• ••
•
H
AN
GARNER
INGATHERINGS FROM OUR
HISTORY AND LITERATURE
BY EDWARD ARBER, F.S.A.
' Yea, history hath triumphed over time : which
besides it, nothing but eternity hath triumphed
over.' SIR W. RALEIGH, Hist, of the World.
'Airs and madrigals that whisper softness in
chambers.' J. MILTON, Areopagitica.
VOLUME VIII
ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO.
2 WHITEHALL GARDENS, WESTMINSTER
MDCCCXCVI
PR
Contents of tye dHg^ty Volume*
PACK
JOHN LYDGATE. The Siege of Harfleur and the Battle of Agin-
court. (1415.) .... [Printed c. 1530.] 13
JOHN Fox. How the Lord CROMWELL helped Archbishop
CRANMER'S Secretary. (July 1539.) . . . -25
JOHN PROCTOR. The History of Sir THOMAS WYATS Rebellion.
(Jan.-Feb. 1544.) . . [Printed Jan. 1555.] 37
The True Report of the burning of the Steeple and Church of
Paul's in London. (4 June 1561.) .... 109
R. W[ITC]. Against the -wilful inconstancy of his dear foe E. T.
(?J566.) . . 32
Is. W. To her unconstant Lover. (? 1566.) ... '227
W. G. A Love Letter to an unconstant Maiden. (? 1566.) . 239
[GEORGE GASCOIGNE.] The Spoil of Antwerp. , It is better
known as The Spanish Fury at Antwerp. (Nov. 1576.) ^ . 141
GEORGE ELLIOT. A very true Report of the apprehension of that
arch-Priest EDMUND CAMPION and three other Jesuit Priests.
(July 1581.) . . .203
[MARY.]^ The Scottish Queen's Burial at Peterborough, (i August
1587.) ..... [Printed 1589.] 341
THEOCRITUS. Six Idillia. Translated by E. D. [? Sir EDWARD
DYER]. (1588.) .... . . 117
Rev. RICHARD HAKLUYT and Captain NICHOLAS DOWNTON.
The Destruction, Capture, &>c., of Portuguese Carracks
[Santa Cruz, Madre de Dios, Las Cinque Llagas,] by English
seamen. (1592-1594.) . . . . • • 245
[GILES FLETCHER, LL.D.] LICIA, or Poems of Love — The Rising
to the Crown of RICHARD III. , (Sept. 1593.) >. . • 4'3
6 CONTENTS OF THE EIGHTH VOLUME.
PAGE
RICHARD HASLETON. Strange and wonderful things that hap
pened to him in his Ten Years' Travels in many foreign
countries. (1582-1592.) . . . , [Printed 1595.] 367
WILLIAM SMITH. CHLORis,\or the Complaint of the passionate
despised Shepherd. (1596.) . . . . -171
R[OBERT] T[OFTE], LAURA [i.e., Mistress E. CARIL]. The
Toys of a Traveller, or The feast of Fancy. (1597.) , - 267
The Merchanfs Daughter of Bristow\ Bristol]. (? 1600), . . 399
[? THOMAS DELONEY.] The Spanish Lady's Love. (? 1600.) . 200
Sir ROBERT CAREY,* afterwards Earl of MONMOUTH^I Account of
the Death of Queen ELIZABETH j, and of his ride to King JAMES
at Edinburgh. (25tb-27th March 1603.) [Printed 1759.] 476
T. M. The true Narration of the Entertainment of his Royal
Majesty [/AMES I.~\from the time of his departure from Edin
burgh till his receiving at London. (April- May 1603.) . 485
MICHAEL DRAYTON. Odes. ,(1606, and 1619.), . . 527
Lovers Garland, or Posies for Rings, &>c. (1624.) . . -97
THOMAS, third Lord FAIRFAX, [' Black TOM '].j Short Memorials
of some things to be cleared during my Command in the Army.
L (1645-1650.) . 564
— A Short Memorial of the Northern Actions, during the
War there. ,(i642-i645.Xl ..... 577
CUPID'S Posies for Bracelets, Handkerchers, and Rings. (1674.) \. 351
GEORGE VILLIERS, second Duke of BUCKINGHAM. An Epitaph
on THOMAS, third Lord FAIRFAX. L(? 1677.) i. . .611
W. P. Posies for Rings, or Mottoes fit for Presents. (1677.) . 410
[Bishop EDWARD COPLESTONE.] Advice to a young Reviewer ;
with a Specimen of the Art\i.e., a Mock Criticism of MILTON'S
V Allegro.} (1807.) . . . .615
W. HUNNEMAN. Old King COLE, his life and death. (? 1830-
633
AN
ENGLISH GARNER
INGATHERINGS
FROM OUR
HISTORY AND LITERATURE
VOL. VIII.
JOHN LYDGATE.
The Siege of Harfleur and the Battle
of Agincourt, 1415.
Hereafter followeth the Battle of Agincourt and the great Siege of
Rouen, by King HENRY of Monmouth, the Fifth of the name ; tl
won Gascony, and Guienne, and Normandy.
[See Sir HARRIS NICOLAS'S History of the Battle of Agincourt, p. 301,
2nd Ed. 1832, 8vo.
14 THE DAUPHIN'S OFFER OF TENNIS BALLS.
OD, that all this world did make
And died for us upon a tree,
Save England, for MARY thy Mother's sake !
As Thou art steadfast GOD in Trinity.
And save King HENRY'S soul, I beseech thee !
That was full gracious and good withal ;
A courteous Knight and King royal.
Of HENRY the Fifth, noble man of war,
Thy deeds may never forgotten be !
Of Knighthood thou wert the very Loadstar !
In thy time England flowered in prosperity,
Thou mortal Mirror of all Chivalry !
Though thou be not set among the Worthies Nine ;
Yet wast thou a Conqueror in thy time !
Our King sent into France full rath,
His Herald that was good and sure.
He desired his heritage for to have :
That is Gascony and Guienne and Normandy.
He bade the Dolphin \Dauphin\ deliver. It should be his :
All that belonged to the first EDWARD
" And if he say me, Nay ! ; iwis
I will get it with dint of sword ! "
But then answered the Dolphin bold,
By our ambassadors sending again,
" Methinks that your King is not so old,
Wars great for to maintain.
Greet well," he said, " your comely King
That is both gentle and small ;
A ton full of tennis balls I will him send,
For to play him therewithal."
Then bethought our Lords all,
In France they would no longer abide :
They took their leave both great and small,
And home to England gan they ride.
To our King they told their tale to the end ;
What that the Dolphin did to them say.
" I will him thank," then said the King,
" By the grace of GOD, if I may ! "
:] KlNG HENRY WILL GOTO FRANCE. 15
Yet, by his own mind, this Dolphin bold,
To our King he sent again hastily ;
And prayed him truce for to hold,
For JESUS' love that died on a tree.
" Nay," then said our comely King,
" For into France will I wind !
The Dolphin, anger I trust I shall :
And such a tennis ball I shall him send,
That shall bear down the high roof of his hall.
The King at Westminster lay that time,
And all his Lords every each one ;
And they did set them down to dine :
" Lordings," he saith, " by St. John !
To France I think to take my way :
Of good counsel I you pray,
What is your will that I shall do ?
Shew me shortly without delay ! "
The Duke of CLARENCE answered soon,
And said, " My Liege, I counsel you so ! "
And other Lords said, " We think it for the best
With you to be ready for to go ;
Whiles that our lives may endure and last."
" Gram mercy, Sirs ! " the King gan say,
" Our right, I trust, then shall be won ;
And I will 'quite you if I may :
Therefore I warn you, both old and young,
To make you ready without delay
To Southampton to take your way
At St. Peter's tide at Lammas ; [»st August 1415.]
For by the grace of GOD, and if I may,
Over the salt sea I think to pass ! "
Great ordnance of guns the King let make,
And shipped them at London all at once ;
Bows and arrows in chests were take,
Spears and bills with iren [iron] gunstones ;
And arming daggers made for the nonce :
1 6 THE ENGLISH ARRIVE IN NORMANDY. [pri
With swords and bucklers that were full sure.
And harness [armour] bright that strokes would endure.
The King to Southampton then did ride
With his Lords ; for no longer would he dwell.
Fifteen hundred fair ships there did him abide,
With good sails and top-castle.
Lords of France our King they sold
For a myllyant [million'] of gold as I heard say.
By England little price they told [reckoned],
Therefore their song was " Well a way ! "
Between [Southjhampton and the Isle of Wight,
These goodly ships lay there at road,
With mastyards across, full seemly of sight,
Over the haven spread abroad :
On every pavis [target] a cross red ;
The waists decked with serpentines [cannon] strong.
St. George's streamers spread overhead,
With the Arms of England hanging all along.
Our King fully hastily to his ship yede,
And all other Lords of every degree :
Every ship weighed his anchor in deed,
With the tide to haste them to the sea.
They hoisted their sails, sailed aloft :
A goodly sight it was to see.
The wind was good, and blew but soft :
And forth they went in the name of the Trinity, [jth August 1415.1
Their course they took toward Normandy,
And passed over in a day and a night.
So in the second morning early,
Of that country they had a sight :
And ever [as] they drew near the coast,
Of the day glad were they all ;
And when they were at the shore almost,
Every ship his anchor let fall,
With their tackles they launched many a long boat
And over ha[t]ch threw them into the stream ;
Pri/t'ed cdfs3°:l ^HE GUNS PLAY TENNIS WITH HARFLEUR. I 7
A thousand shortly they saw afloat,
With men of arms that lyth did leme \? pleasantly did shine\.
Our king landed at Cottaunses \Coutances\ Cr<^
without delay,
On our Lady's Even [of] the Assumption ; [i4th August 1415.]
And to Harflete [ffarfleur] they took the way
And mustered fair before the town.
Our King his banner there did 'splay,
With standards bright and many [a] pennon :
And there he pitched his tent adown ;
Full well broidered with armory gay.
First our comely King's tent with the crown,
And all other Lords in good array.
" My brother CLARENCE," the King did say,
" The towers of the town will I keep
With her daughters and her maidens gay,
To wake the Frenchmen of their sleep."
" ' London '," he said, " shall with him meet ;
And my guns that lieth fair upon the green ;
For they shall play with Harflete
A game of tennis as I ween.
Go we to game, for God's grace !
My children be ready every each one."
For every great gun that there was,
In his mouth he had a stone.
The Captain of Harflete soon anon
Unto our King he sent hastily
To know what his will was to be done,
For to come thither with such a meiny ?
" Deliver me the town ! " the King said.
" Nay ! " said the Captain, " by God and St DENIS ! '
"Then shall I win it," said our King,
" By the grace of GOD and his goodness,
Some hard tennis balls I have hither brought
Of marble and iren made full round.
I swear, by JESU that me dear bought,
They shall beat the walls to the ground."
ENG. GAR. VIII. 2
1 8 KING HENRY GRANTS A TRUCE. [prinjted c.
Then said the great gun,
" Hold fellows, we go to game ! "
Thanked be MARY and JESU her son,
They did the Frenchmen much shame.
" Fifteen afore," said " London " then ;
Her balls full fair she gan outthrow.
" Thirty " said the second gun, " I will win and I may."
There as the wall was most sure,
They bare it down without nay.
The " King's Daughter " said " Hearken this play !
Hearken Maidens now this tide !
Five and forty we have, it is no nay."
They beat down the walls on every side.
The Normands said, " Let us not abide !
But go we in haste, by one assent !
Wheresoever the gunstones do glide,
Our houses in Harfleet are all to rent :
The Englishmen our bulwarks have brent."
And women cried, " Alas that ever they were born ! "
The Frenchmen said, " Now be we shent !
By us now the town is forlorn \titterly lost] :
It is best now therefore
That we beseech this English King of grace,
For to assail us no more ;
Lest he destroy us in this place.
Then will we bid the Dolphin make him ready,
Or else this town delivered must be."
Messengers went forth by and bye, doth September 1415.]
And to our King came they :
The Lord CORGRAUNT certainly, feS^SSWj
For he was Captain of the place,
And GELAM BOWSER with him did hie,
With other Lords more and less.
And when they to our King come where,
Full lowly set them on their knee :
" Hail, comely King ! " gan they say
" CHRIST save thee from adversity !
Of truce we will beseech thee
Until that it be Sunday noon : [22nd September i4iS.]
.Primed cd?53o.] THE FRENCH SURRENDER HARFLEUR. 19
And if we may not recovered be,
We will deliver the town."
Then said our King full soon,
" I grant you grace in this tide \time\ ;
One of you shall forth anon,
And the remnant shall with me abide ! "
Their Captain took his next way,
And to Rouen fast gan he ride.
The Dolphin he had thought there to find
But he was gone ; he durst not abide.
For help the Captain besought that tide
" Harflete is lost for ever and aye ;
The walls be beaten down on every side,
That we no longer keep it may."
Of counsel all he did them pray.
"*' What is your will that I may do ?
We must ordain the King battle by Sunday,
Or else deliver him the town ! "
The Lords of Rouen together did rown \whisper\ •
And bade the town should openly yield.
The King of England fareth as a lion :
We will not meet with him in the field !
The Captain would then no longer abide,
And towards Harflete came he right ;
For so fast did he ride
That he was there the same night.
And when he to our King did come, [22nd September 1415.1
Lowly he set him on his knee :
" Hail, comely Prince ! " then did he say,
" The grace of GOD is with thee !
Here have I brought the keys all
Of Harflete that is so royal a city.
All is yours, both chamber and hall ;
And at your will for to be."
" Thanked be JESU ! " said our King,
" And MARY his mother truly !
2O 2 i,ooo FRENCH SENT OUT OF HARFLEUR.
My uncle DORSET, without letting,
Captain of Harflete shall he be.
And all that is within the city
Awhile yet they shall abide,
To amend the walls in every degree
That are beaten down on every side :
And after that, they shall out ride
To other towns over all.
Wife nor child shall not there abide :
But have them forth, both great and small ! "
One and twenty thousand, men might see,
When they went out, full sore did weep.
The great guns and ordnance truly
Were brought into Harflete.
Great sickness among our host was, in good fay \_faith\
Which killed many of our Englishmen :
There died beyond seven score upon a day ;
Alive there was left but thousands ten.
Our King himself into the Castle yede,
And rest him there as long as his will was :
At the last he said, " Lords, so God me speed !
Towards Calais I think to pass."
After that Harflete was gotten, that royal city,
Through the grace of GOD omnipotent ;
Our comely King made him ready soon,
And towards Calais forth he went.
" My brother GLOUCESTER veramente
Here will we no longer abide !
And Cousin of YORK, this is our intent :
With us forth ye shall, this tide !
My Cousin HUNTINGDON with us shall ride ;
And the Earl of OXENFORD with you three !
The Duke of SOUTHFOLK [SUFFOLK] by our side
He shall come forth with his meiny !
And the Earl of DEVONSHIRE sikerly !
Printed cffSa] ENGLISHMEN TO BE SOLD SIX FOR A PENNY. 2 I
Sir THOMAS HARPING that never did fail ; «& iK£
The Lord BROKE that came heartily ERPINGH'AM.]
And Sir JOHN of CORNWALL :
Sir GILBERT UMFREY that would us avail ; s" G^RT
And the Lord CLIFFORD, so GOD me speed ! UMFREVILLE.I
Sir WILLIAM BOWSER, that will not fail ; ut should be
For all they will help, if it be need." lo™™:
Our King rode forth, blessed might he be ! [?sth October 1415.1
He spared neither dale nor down ;
By waters great fast rode he,
Till he came to the water of [the] Seine. \it should <fcsomme.]
The Frenchmen threw the bridge adown
That over the water they might not pass.
Our King made him ready then ;
And to the town of Turreyn went more and less.
The Frenchmen, our King about becast
With Battles strong on every side ;
The Duke of ORLEANS said in haste
" The King of England shall abide.
Who gave him leave this way to pass ?
I trust that I shall him beguile
Full long ere he come to Calais."
The Duke of BOURBON answered soon
And swore by God and by St. DENIS
" We will play them every each one,
These Lords of England at the tennis ;
Their gentlemen, I swear by St. JOHN !
And archers we will sell them [in] great plenty :
And so will we rid [of] them soon,
Six for a penny of our money."
Then answered the Duke of BAR,
Words that were of great pride :
" By God ! " he said, " I will not spare
Over all the Englishmen for to ride,
If that they dare us abide :
We will overthrow them in fere \company\
And take them prisoners in this tide :
Then come home again to our dinner ! "
22 TME FAMOUS BATTLE OF AGINCOURT.
HENRY our King that was so good ;
He prepared there full royally :
Stakes he let [caused to\ hew in a wood,
And then set them before his archers verily.
The Frenchmen our ordnance gan espy.
They that we ordained for to ride
Lighted adown, with sorrow truly ;
So on their feet fast gan abide.
Our King went up upon a hill high
And looked down to the valleys low :
He saw where the Frenchmen came hastily
As thick as ever did hail or snow.
Then kneeled our King down, in that stound,
And all his men on every side :
Every man made a cross and kissed the ground,
And on their feet fast gan abide.
Our King said, " Sirs, what time of the day ? "
" My Liege," they said, " it is nigh Prime [9 a.m.] a
"Then go we to our journey,
By the grace of JESU, it is good time :
For saints that lie in their shrine,
To GOD for us be praying.
All the Religious of England, in this time,
Ora pro nobis for us they sing."
St. GEORGE was seen over the host :
Of very truth this sight men did see.
Down was he sent by the HOLY GHOST,
To give our King the victory.
Then blew the trumpets merrily, [2Sth October i4
These two Battles \Armies\ together yede.
Our archers stood up full heartily,
And made the Frenchmen fast to bleed.
Their arrows went fast, without any let,
And many shot they throughout ;
Through habergeon, breastplate, and bassinet.
An eleven thousand were slain in that rout \company\
KING HENRY'S TRIUMPH IN LONDON. 23
Our gracious King, as I well know,
That day he fought with his own hand.
He spared neither high ne low.
There was never King in no land,
That ever did better on a day.
Wherefore England may sing a song :
Laus DEO ! may we say ;
And other prayers ever among.
The Duke of ORLEANS, without nay,
That day was taken prisoner.
The Duke of BOURBON also in fere [company] :
And also the Duke of BAR truly.
Sir BERGYGAUNTE he gan him yield;
And other Lords of France many.
Lo, thus our comely King conquered the field,
By the grace of God omnipotent,
He took his prisoners, both old and young,
And towards Calais forth he went.
He shipped there with good intent: [i6th November 1415.1
To Canterbury full fair he passed,
And offered to St. THOMAS'S shrine.
And through Kent he rode in haste ;
To Eltham he came all in good time. [22nd November 1415.]
And over Blackheath, as he was riding, [23rd November 1415.]
Of the city of London he was ware.
" Hail, royal city ! " said our King,
" CHRIST keep thee ever from sorrow and care !
And then he gave that noble city his blessing
He prayed JESU it might well fare !
To Westminster did he ride,
And the French prisoners with him also :
He ransomed them in that tide,
And again to their country he let them go.
Thus of this matter I make an end,
To th'effect of the Battle have I gone :
For in this book I cannot comprehend
The greatest battle of all, called the Siege of Rouen.
24 THE LAMENTABLE SlEGE OF RoUEN.
[_ J. Lydgate.
Printed c. 1530.
For that Siege lasted three years and more,
And there a rat was [sold] at forty pence
For in the city the people hungered sore.
Women and children, for [de]falt of meat, were lore [lost] ;
And some for pain, bare bones were gnawing,
That at their breasts had two children sucking.
Of the Siege of Rouen it to write were pity,
It is a thing so lamentable :
Yet every High Feast, our King, of his charity,
Gave them meat to their bodies comfortable ;
And at the last the town wan, without fable.
Thus of all as now I make an end :
To the bliss of heaven, GOD our souls send !
Thus endeth the Battle of Agincourt.
Imprinted at London in Foster lane,
in Saint Leonard's parish,
by me JOHN SKOT.
N
JOHN Fox, the Martyrologist.
[The Ecclesiastical History, containing the
Acts and Monuments, &=c. 2nd Ed., II.,
pp. 1355-6, 1570.]
How the Lord CROMWELL helped Archbishop
CRANMER s Secretary.
[July 1539-]
ENTION was made before how King
HENRY, in the 3ist year [1539-1540] of
his reign, caused the Six Articles [31. Hen.
VIII., c. 14. An Act abolishing diversity
in opinions} to pass [in June 1 5 39] ; S<£c^
much against the mind, and MERdisputeth
. r i three days in
contrary to the consent ot the Parliament
Archbishop of CANTERBURY, SSEfite
THOMAS CRANMER : who had disputed three days against
the same in the Parliament House, with great reasons and
authorities. Which Articles, after they were granted and
passed by the Parliament, the King, for the singular favour
which he ever bare to CRANMER and reverence to his learning
(being desirous to know what he had said and objected
in the Parliament against these Articles ; or what could
be alleged by Learning against the same) required a
Note of the Archbishop's doings, what he had said and
opposed in the Parliament touching that matter. And
this word was sent to him from the King by CROMWELL
and other Lords of the Parliament, whom the King then
sent to dine with him at Lambeth : somewhat to comfort
again his grieved mind and troubled spirits : as hath been
above recited at page 1,298.
26 CRANMER'S BOOK AGAINST THE Six ARTICLES. [J'j£:
[The passage referred to runs thus :
After the Parliament was finished and that matter
concluded ; the King (considering the constant zeal of
the Archbishop in defence of his cause ; and partly also
weighing the many authorities and reasons whereby he
had substantially confirmed the same) sent [in July 1539]
the Lord CROMWELL (which within a few days after [or
rather on loth June 1540] was apprehended), the two
Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, and all the Lords of
the Parliament, to dine with him at Lambeth : where
they signified to him, That it was the King's pleasure
that they all should, in His Highness's behalf, cherish
comfort and animate him as one that, for his travail in
that Parliament, had declared himself both greatly learned,
and also a man discreet and wise : and therefore they
willed him not to be discouraged in anything that was
passed in that Parliament contrary to his allegations.
He most humbly thanked, first the King's Highness
of his singular good affection towards him ; and them,
for all their pains : adding moreover that he so hoped
in GOD that hereafter his allegations and authorities
should take place, to the glory of GOD and commodity
of the realm.]
Whereupon, when this dinner was finished [in July 1539],
The name of tne next day after the Archbishop (collecting
this Secretary both his arguments, authorities of Scripture, and
juLpHas ' Doctors {i.e. the Fathers of the Church\ together)
S^ESf caused his Secretary to write a fair Book thereof
in 1570]. ' for the King, after this order :
First, the Scriptures were alleged.
Then, the Doctors.
Thirdly, followed the arguments deduced from those
Authorities.
This book was written in his Secretary's Chamber [at
Lambeth Palace] ; where, in a by-chamber, lay the Arch
bishop's Almoner.
When this Book was fair written, and while the Secretary-
was gone to deliver the same unto the Archbishop his
Master, who was, as it chanced, ridden to Croydon ;
returning back to his chamber, he found his door shut,
and the key carried away to London by the Almoner.
J*£°o.'] A BEARBAITING UPON THE THAMES. 27
At this season also [it] chanced the father of the said
Secretary to come to the city ; by whose occasion it
so fell out, that he [RALPH MORICE] must needs go to
London. The Book he could not lay in his chamber, neither
durst he commit it to any other person to keep ; being
straitly charged, in any condition, by the Archbishop his
master, to be circumspect thereof: so he determined to go
to his father, and to keep the Book about him.
And so, thrusting the Book under his girdle, he went
over [the Thames] unto Westminster Bridge, with a
sculler ; where he entered into a wherry that went to
London : wherein were four of the Guard, who meant to
land at Paul's Wharf; and to pass by the King's Highness
who was then in his barge, with a great number of barges
and boats about him, then baiting of bears in the water,
over against the Bank [Side in Southwark].
The aforesaid Yeomen of the Guard, when they came
against the King's barge, they durst not pass by towards
Paul's Wharf, lest they should be espied : and therefore
entreated the Secretary to go with them to the Bearbaiting ;
and they would find the means, being of the Guard, to
make room and to see all the pastime.
The Secretary perceiving no other remedy, assented
thereto.
When the wherry came nigh the multitude of boats ;
they with poleaxes got the wherry so far that, being
encompassed with many other wherries and boats, there
was no refuge if the bear should break loose and come upon
them : as, in very deed, within one Paternoster while,
the bear brake loose ; and came into the boat where the
Yeomen of the Guard were, and the said Secretary.
The Guard forsook the wherry, and went into Tail Yeomen,
another barge ; one or two of them leaping short, but in Keepers,
and so fell into the water.
The bear and the dogs so shaked the wherry wherein
the Secretary was, that the boat being full of water sank
to the ground ; and being also, as it chanced, an ebbing
tide, he sat there in the end of the wherry up to A Bearbaiting
the middle in water. To whom came the bear ThTmesbefor*
and all the dogs. The bear, seeking as it were the King,
aid and succour of him, came back with his hinder parts
28 CRANMER'S BOOK FLOATING ON THE THAMES. [J'^°o.
upon him ; and so, rushing upon him, the Book was loosed
The Book of from the Secretary's girdle, and so fell into the
DrCKANMER _, rt-' U
a?ainst the A* Thames out of his reach.
inShL°mes. The flying of the people, after that the bear was
loose, from one boat to another, was so cumbrous that divers
persons were thrown into the Thames : the King command
ing certain men, that could swim, to strip themselves naked ;
and to help to save them that were in danger.
This pastime so displeased the King, that he bade,
*' Away, away with the bear ! and let us go all hence ! "
The Secretary, perceiving his Book to fleet away in
the Thames, called to the Bearward to take up the Book.
When the Bearward had the Book in his custody, being
This Bear- an arrant Papist, far from the religion of his
ward was •» »• • //•» i -r i ••-? i
Princess Mistress (for he was the Lady ELIZABETHS
S^antf™ Bearward, now the Queen's Majesty), ere that the
Secretary could come to land, he had delivered the Book to a
Dr CRANMER'S Priest of his own affinity in religion standing on
the'.ftjf111 the bank : who, reading in the Book, and
deUver"d to a perceiving that it was a manifest Refutation of the
Popish Priest. Six A rticles, made much ado ; and told the Bearward
that whosoever claimed the Book, should surely be hanged.
Anon, the Secretary came to the Bearward for his Book.
"What," quoth the Bearward, "dare you challenge this
Book? Whose servant be you?"
" I am servant to one of the [Privy] Council," said the
Secretary, " and my Lord of CANTERBURY is my master."
" Yea, marry," quoth the Bearward, " I thought as much.
You be like, I trust, to be both hanged for this Book."
" Well," said he " it is not so evil as you take it : and,
I warrant you, my Lord will avouch the book to the King's
Majesty. But I pray you let me have my Book, and I
will give you a crown [6s., or in present value about £2]
to drink."
" If you will give me 500 crowns, you shall not have it,"
quoth the Bearward.
With that the Secretary departed from him : and, under
standing the malicious forwardness of the Bearward, he
learned that BLAGE the Grocer in Cheapside might do
much with him. To whom the Secretary brake this matter,
J'J°£] THE BEARWARD WILL NOT GIVE UP THE BOOK. 29
requiring him to send for the Bearward to supper ; and
he would pay for the whole charge thereof: and besides
that, rather than he would forego his Book after this
sort, the Bearward should have 2os. [in present value about
;£6] to drink.
The supper was prepared. The Bearward was sent for,
and came. After supper, the matter was intreated ; and 2os.
offered for the Book.
But do what could be done ; neither friendship, acquaint
ance, nor yet reward of money, could obtain the Book
out of his hands : but that the same should be delivered
unto some of the [Privy] Council, that would not so slightly
look on so weighty a matter as to have it redeemed for
a supper, or a piece of money. The honest man, Master
BLAGE, with many good reasons would have persuaded him
not to be stiff in his own conceit : declaring that in the end
he should nothing at all prevail of his purpose, but be
laughed to scorn ; getting neither penny nor praise for
his travail. He, hearing that, rushed suddenly out of
the doors from his friend Master BLAGE ; without any
manner of thanksgiving for his supper : more like a
Bearward than like an honest man.
When the Secretary saw the matter so extremely to
be used against him ; he then thought it expedient to
fall from any farther practising of entreaty with the Bear-
ward, as with him that seemed rather to be a bear himself
than master of the beast : determining the next morning to
make the Lord CROMWELL privy of the chance that
happened.
So, on the next day, as the Lord CROMWELL went to
the Court, the Secretary declared the whole matter unto
him ; and how he had offered the Bearward 2Os. for the
finding thereof.
" Where is the fellow ? " quoth the Lord CROMWELL.
" I suppose," said the Secretary, " that he is now in
the Court, attending to deliver the book unto some of the
Council."
" Well," said the Lord CROMWELL, " it maketh no matter.
Go with me .thither, and I shall get you your book
again. ! "
30 LORD CROMWELL RATES THE BEARWARD. [3'?°£.
When the Lord CROMWELL came into the Hall of the
The Bearward Court, there stood the Bearward with the Book
waiting to give . . , , . . . , ,. . ,
CRANMER'S in his hand ; waiting to have delivered the same
c^ndi. the unto Sir ANTHONY BROWNE or unto [STEPHEN
GARDINER] the Bishop of WINCHESTER, as it was reported.
To whom the Lord CROMWELL said, "Come hither,
fellow ! What Book hast thou there in thy hand ? " and
The Lord with that snatched the Book out of his hand : and
geTthThe looking in the Book, said, " I know this hand well
Book from enough. This is your hand," said he to the
the Bearward. _ ° '
Secretary.
"But where hadst thou this Book?" quoth the Lord
CROMWELL to the Bearward.
"This Gentleman lost it two days ago in the Thames,"
said the Bearward.
" Dost thou know whose servant he is ? " said the Lord
CROMWELL.
" He saith," quoth the Bearward, " that he is my Lord
of CANTERBURY'S servant."
"Why then didst thou not deliver to him the Book
when he required it ?" said the Lord CROMWELL. " Who made
thee so bold as to detain or withhold any Book or writing from
a Councillor's servant, especially being his Secretary ? It is
more meet for thee to meddle with thy bears, than with
such writing : and were it not for thy Mistress's sake, I
would set thee fast by the feet, to teach such malapert
knaves to meddle with Councillors' matters. Had not
money been well bestowed upon such a good fellow as this
is, that knoweth not a Councillor's man from a cobbler's
man!"
And with those words, the Lord CROMWELL went up
into the King's Chamber of Presence, and the Archbishop's
Secretary with him : where he found, in the Chamber,
the Lord of CANTERBURY.
To whom he said, " My Lord, I have here found good
tSeLordds °* s^-u^ f°r you>" showing to him the paper book that
CROMWELL to he had in his hand, " ready to bring both you, and
the Archbishop , •, • j r it ^111^ i
CRANMEK. this good tellow your man, to the halter : namely
\especially\ if the knave Bearward, now in the Hall, might
have well compassed it."
J' f5°*;J MORICE MUST WRITE THE BoOK FAIR AGAIN. 3!
At these words, the Archbishop smiled, and said, " He
that lost the Book is like[ly] to have the worst bargain :
for, besides that he was well washed in the Thames, he must
write the Book fair again."
And, at these words, the Lord CROMWELL cast the Book
unto the Secretary, saying, " I pray thee, MORICE, go in
hand therewith, by and bye, with all expedition: for it
must serve a turn."
" Surely, my Lord, it somewhat rejoiceth me," quoth the
Lord CROMWELL, " that the varlet might have had of your
man 2OS. for the Book : and now I have discharged the
matter with never a penny ; and shaken him well up for his
overmuch malapertness."
" I know the fellow well enough," quoth the Archbishop,
"" there is not a ranker Papist within this realm than he is ;
most unworthy to be a servant unto so noble a Princess."
And so, after humble thanks given to the Lord
CROMWELL, the said MORICE departed with his Book:
which, when he again had fair written it, was delivered
to the King's Majesty by the said Lord CROMWELL, within
four days after.
R. W[ITC].
Against the wilful inconstancy of
his dear foe E. T.
Which example may justly be a sufficient warning
for all young Men to beware the feigned
fidelity of unconstant Maidens.
LL youthful wights at liberty,
whom Love did never thrall ;
I wish that my decay may be
a warning to you all !
That have a sore, bred in my breast.
although it be not strange ;
Yet will it bring me to the grave,
without some sudden change.
For I, by suit, have served one
two years and somewhat more,
And now I can no longer serve ;
my heart it is so sore.
Which heart I let to Usury,
through greedy fond desire ;
Not doubting to receive home twain,
when I would them require.
But if that every Usurer
had such good hap as I,
There would not be so many men
would use this usury.
THE TRUE HEARTED R. W. 33
My Debtor hath deceived me ;
for she is from me fled :
And I am left among the briars
to bring a fool to bed.
So that I silly [innocent] man remain
each day in doubtful case :
For Death doth daily lie in wait
to 'rest me with his mace.
And cast me into prison strong,
the door is made of grass :
And I might bless my hour of birth,
if it were come to pass.
For, lo, my careful choice doth choose
to keep me still in thrall ;
And doth regard my love no more
than stone that lies in wall.
Whereby I see that women's hearts
are made of marble stone :
I see how careless they can be,
when pensive men do moan.
I sowed both pure and perfect seed
on fair and pleasant ground ;
In hope, though harvest brought some pain,
some profit might be found.
But now the harvest ended is ;
and for my faithful seeds,
And all my pain[s] and labour past,
I have nought else but weeds.
ENG. GAR. VIII. 3
34 THE TRUE HEARTED R. W.
I thrust my hand among the thorns,
in hope the rose to find :
I pricked my hand, and eke my heart ;
yet left the rose behind.
Not I, but many more I know
in love do lack relief:
But I, as cause doth me compel,
do wail my pain and grief.
I doubtless cannot be the first
That Love hath put to pain :
Nor yet I shall not be the last
that Women will disdain.
If I, poor wretch, should think upon
the pains that I have past ;
Or if I could recount the cares
that she hath made me taste :
Into despair it would me drive,
and cleave my heart in twain ;
Or else bereave me of my wits,
to think upon the pain.
I never spent one day in joy,
my careful heart doth know ;
Since first I lent my love to her,
by whom my grief doth grow.
There are no greater pains assigned
for damned ghosts in hell,
Than I do suffer for her sake,
that I do love so well.
T0 THE UNCONSTANT E. T. 35
The price that I have paid for love,
not many men would give :
But I my bargain shall repent
as long as I do live.
I paid for love, and that full dear :
yet I received right nought.
I never was so much deceived
in anything I bought.
If every woman on her friend
such pity used to take ;
Then shortly men will run to love,
as bears unto a stake.
But now let VENUS fire her forge !
Let CUPID'S shaft be sent !
They can no more increase my woe :
for all my love is spent.
But here, good Reader, thou mayst see
how Love hath paid my hire !
To leave me burning in the flame ;
compelled to blow the fire.
But if that thou, good friend, desire
to live in happy state :
Then seek in time to shun mishap !
Repentance comes too late !
Frequent not women's company ;
but see thou from them swerve !
For thy reward shall be but small
whatever thou deserve.
Witc.
36 THE TRUE HEARTED R. W.
Take heed, for thou mayst come in thrall
before that thou beware :
And when thou art entangled once,
thou canst not fly the snare.
Take thou not this to be a jest ;
but think it to be true !
Before thou prove, as I have done :
lest proof do make thee rue.
Yet if thou chance to place thy love ;
take heed What thou dost say !
And see thou place thy talk in print,
or else beware a fray !
And thus I end : not doubting but
these words may well suffice
To warn thy greedy heart of harm,
and ease thy roving eyes.
Ease by Disease
hath made me to halt :
Time hath so turned
my sugar to salt
R. WITC
FINIS.
Imprinted at London, by
RICHARD JONES.
m
The History of Wyat's j
Rebellion :
§
With the order and manner 8
of resisting the same.
I
WHEREUNTO, IN THE END, is ADDED J
An earnest Conference with !
the degenerate and seditious
rebels for the search of f
the Cause of their
daily disorder.
0
0
Made and compiled by
JOHN PROCTOR.
J;
[SECOND EDITION.] e ,
Mense Januaru, anno 1555. 9
[In WYAT'S Rebellion, there was as much a social strife as a political
conflict. Like the Rebellions of the previous reign, it was largely a
rising of the Masses against the Classes. The Kentish Gentlemen and
their dependents were mostly Horsemen, and went for Queen MARY.
The Kentish commons were chiefly Footmen, and many of them went
for WYAT.
This Rebellion was nipped in the bud, because the Kentish commons
were prevented from joining hands with the lower classes of London.
Had they been able to do so, it would have been the days of WAT
TYLER over again.
It is clear that, as stated at page 66, WYAT thoueht that the Footmen
opposed to him would come over to his side. This is probably the reason
why the action at Hyde Park Corner was so indecisive, see pages
87 to 89. Lord PEMBROKE could not trust his Footmen ; so only the
Horsemen fought there against WYAT.
PROCTOR was undoubtedly an affectionately loyal subject of Queen
MARY, and magnifies her herein upon every possible occasion. He
says himself at p. 44, that he has " not fully set forth the whole case,
all as it was." He wrote too soon after the event to do so in print.
At Vol. IV., pp. 88-93, °f this Series, we have given a Protestant
account of this Rising by EDWARD UNDERBILL, the " Hot Gospeller " :
and at pp. 112-142 of the same Volume will be found Fox's account of
the Imprisonment of the Princess ELIZABETH, which was occasioned by
this Rebellion ; though WYAT, with his dying breath, cleared her of all
knowledge of it.
All these narratives should be compared with the account in Professor
FROUDE'S History.}
To the most excellent and most virtuous Lady, our most
gracious Sovereign, MARY, by the grace of GOD,
Queen of England, France, Naples, Hierusalem, and
Ireland; Defender of the Faith ; Princess of Spain,
and Sicily ; Archduchess of Austria; Duchess of
Milan, Burgundy, and Brabant; Countess of Haps-
burg, Flanders, and Tyrol ;
your Majesty's most faithful, loving, and
obedient subject, JOHN PROCTOR, wisheth
all grace, long peace, quiet reign,
from GOD the Fat her >
the Son, and the
HOLY GHOST.
|]T hath been allowed, most gracious Sovereign,
for a necessary policy in all Ages, as stories
do witness, that the flagitious enterprises of
the wicked, which have at any time attempted
with traitorous force to subvert or alter the Public
State of their countries, as also the wise and virtuous
policies of the good practised to preserve the Common
Weal and to repel the enemies of the same, should by
4O DEDICATORY EPISTLE TO QUEEN MARY. Q
writing be committed to eternal memory. Partly that they
of that Age in whose time such things happened might by
the oft reading conceive a certain gladness in considering
with themselves, and beholding as it were in a glass, from
what calamity and extreme ruin, by what policy and
wisdom, their native countries were delivered ; besides the
great misery and peril they themselves have escaped : partly
for a doctrine and a monition serving both for the present
and future time. But chiefly and principally that the
traitors themselves (who, through hatred to their Prince or
country, shall, either of their own malicious disposition be
stirred ; or else by other perverse counsel thereunto induced)
may always have before their eyes the miserable end that
happeneth as just reward to all such caytives \cait iffs\ as,
either of ambition not satisfied with their own state will
seek preposterously to aspire to honour ; or of malice to
their Prince, will enter into that horrible crime of Privy
Conspiracy or Open Rebellion.
The industry of Writers doth sufficiently declare in a
number of stories that conspiracy and treason hath always
turned to the authors a wretched and miserable end : and if
their persons happen at any time to escape temporal
punishment, as rarely they have done ; yet their names,
specially of the notorious and principal offenders, have
been always had in such vile and odible detestation in all
Ages and among all nations as, for the same, they have
been ever after abhorred of all good men.
These general considerations, moving others to indict
\endite\ and pen stories, moved me also to gather together
and to register for memory the marvellous practice of
WYAT his detestable Rebellion ; little inferior to the most
dangerous reported in any history, either for desperate
Tojjanroisssr'] THE LOST HISTORY OF WYAT'S REBELLION. 41
courage in the author, or for the monstrous end purposed by
his Rebellion.
Yet I thought nothing less at the beginning than to
publish the same at this time, or at this Age : minding
only to gather notes thereof, where the truth might
be best known, for the which I made earnest and
diligent investigation ; and to leave them to be published
by others hereafter, to the behoof of our posterity.
But hearing the sundry tales thereof, far dissonant in
the utterance, and many of them as far wide from truth,
fashioned from the speakers to advance, or deprave, as
they fantased [favoured] the parties ; and understanding
besides what notable infamy sprang of this Rebellion to
the whole country of Kent, and to every member of the
same, where sundry and many of them, to mine own
knowledge, shewed themselves most faithful and worthy
subjects, as by the story [itjself shall evidently appear,
which either of haste or of purpose were omitted in a
printed book late[ly] set forth at Canterbury.* I thought
these to be special considerations whereby I ought, of
•duty to my country \County\ to compile and digest such
notes as I had gathered concerning that Rebellion, in some
form or fashion of History ; and to publish the same in
this Age, and at this present, contrary to my first intent :
as well that the very truth of that rebellious enterprise
might be thoroughly known, as that also the Shire where
that vile Rebellion was practised might, by opening the full
truth in some part, be delivered from the infamy which, as
by report I hear, is made so general in other Shires as
though very few of Kent were free from WYAT'S conspiracy.
* This account of WYAT'S Rebellion, printed by JOHN MICHEL at Canter
bury, has apparently perished. — E. A.
42 OBEDIENCE AND UNSPOTTED LOYALTY. [IOJjan™c
roctoiv
555-
Most humbly beseeching your Highness to take this
my travail in so good and gracious part ; as of your Grace's
benign and gentle nature it hath pleased you to accept
my former books dedicated unto your Highness. Whereby
I mind nothing less than to excuse, or accuse, any affec
tionately [partially] ; but to set forth each man's doings
truly according to their demerits : that by the con
templation hereof both the good may be encouraged in
the execution of perfect obedience and unspotted loyalty ;
and the wicked restrained from the hateful practice of such
detestable purposes.
The Blessed Trinity preserve your Highness !
43
To the Loving Reader.
JHE safe and sure recordation of pains and perils
past hath present delectation, saith TuLLY.
For things, were they never so bitter and un
pleasant in the execution, being after in peace
and security renewed by report or chronicle, are both
plausible {praiseworthy] and profitable, whether they
touched ourselves or others.
Being thus in this point persuaded, loving Reader, I
thought it a travail neither unpleasant for thee, nor un
thankful for me, to contrive the late Rebellion practised
by WYAT in form of a Chronicle, as thou seest. Whereby
as I mean not to please the evil, nor displease the good ;
so I much desire to amend the one by setting before his
eye the lamentable Image of hateful Rebellion, for the
increase of obedience ; and to help the other by setting
forth the unspotted loyalty of such as adventurously and
faithfully served in this dangerous time, for the increase of
knowledge and policy the better to repress the like dangers,
if any hereafter happen.
And further, although hereby I covet not to renew a fear
of a danger past, yet would I gladly increase a care and
study in every good man's heart to avoid a like danger that
may happen, and most times happeneth ; when a danger
with much difficulty avoided is not sufficient warning to
beware of the next.
I have forborne to touch any man by name, WYAT only
except ; and a few others which the story would not permit
to be left out. Yet take me not that I mean to excuse any
man's fault thereby. For what, should I shew myself so
ungrate or unnatural unto my natural countrymen ; as
44 THE IMAGE OF HATEFUL REBELLION. [IOJjJSSS
namely to blaze them to the World whom, either their own
good hap or the Queen's surpassing mercy, would to be
covered at this time?
And although I touch some by name, terming them in
certain places " traitors and rebels," just titles of their
deserts : yet, GOD is my witness ! , I do it not of malice
or envy to any of their persons. I never hated any of
them ; no, not WYAT himself! whom, although he was
utterly unknown unto me, yet for the sundry and singular
gifts wherewith he was largely endued, I had him in great
admiration. And now I rather pity his unhappy case than
malice his person : and do much lament that so many good
and commendable qualities were abused in the service of
cursed Heresy ; whose reward was never other than shame
ful confusion, by one way or other, to all that followed her
ways.
Finally, if thou suppose I have not fully set forth the
whole case, all as it was, I shall not againsay it ; neither
thought I it necessary so to do ; but rather so much as
for this time might be both plausible [praiseworthy} and
profitable, and should satisfy such points as in the Dedicatory
Epistle to the Queen's Majesty are expressed.
Hereafter it may be that further be said touching this
matter. In mean time thou hast no just cause, I trust,
to be offended with this my present enterprise, either for
the manner of handling or for the matter herein handled :
the one having sufficient perspicuity and plainness, the other
full truth ; for which I have made such diligent investi
gation, as I have found it and have herein expressed the
same, especially so much as concerneth Kent
Vale I
45
WYATS Rebellion:
with the order and manner of
resisting the same*
HAT a restless evil Heresy is ! ever travail
ing to bring forth mischief! The dangerous .
never ceasing to protrude all Heresy!"
those in whose hearts she is received to
confusion ! By what plausible allure
ments at her entry, she catcheth favour
able entertainment ! With what ways
of craft and subtilty she dilateth her
dominion ! and finally how, of course, she toileth to be
supported by Faction, Sedition, and Rebellion ! to the great
peril of subversion of that State where, as a plague, she
happeneth to find habitation : as well the lamentable history
of the Bohemians and Germans, with all others treating of
like enterprises by heretics, as also WYAT'S late conspiracy
practised with open force, doth plenteously declare. Who,
as it should evidently seem by the trade of his life Heresy the
and the late disclosing of himself, was so fervently ^ewYA?^sUnd
affected to heresy, although he laboured by false Rebellion,
persuasion otherwise to have coloured it ; that, burning
inwardly with a prepensed treason in his breast for the con
tinuance of the same within the realm, he persuaded to
himself such an impossibility therein (the Queen's Highness
46 WYAT'S REBELLION BEGINS AT MAIDSTONE. [IOJJMrSS!
prospering and bearing the sceptre of high governance) as
could by no means be brought about without rebellion : the
only refuge, as I said, that indurate heretics have
Rebellion, the . J ' , - ' . - , . ,
only refuge of always sought, lor maintenance of their heresy;
living under a Catholic Prince.
He therefore, being thus inflamed, could no longer contain,
WYAT per- but immediately upon the beginning of the Queen's
thedQueehnaand most happy reign, forsaking his habitation in the
Feresy could country, went to London of purpose to stir
?ogerthfrn [HENRY GREY,] the Duke of SUFFOLK and his
brethren, with others of power in further countries \Counties\
WYAT'S repair whom he knew to be like affected to heresies and
stir^thersVo0 consequently to burn in sembable desire for con-
his Rebellion, tinuance of the same : leaving nevertheless such
behind him in Kent, to solicit his and their unhappy case ;
whom he knew so much addicted thereunto as, in his absence,
for their diligence in such a ministry needed no overseer.
He remained in London till he thought himself thoroughly
furnished every way, and everywhere within the realm, to
attempt his determined enterprise ; when apt time should
WYAT'S return serve. Which done, he returned into Kent : not
into Kent. of purpose then to proceed ; but, understanding
his strength, practised there by his agents to set things in
order, and so to return to London ; abiding the time
appointed therefore by him and his complices.
But, so it befell, in the mean time, that, at his being in the
country, the [Privy] Council committed a Gentleman of that
Shire to ward, one to WYAT above all others most dear :
whereby the common bruit grew that he, (suspecting his
secrets to be revealed, and upon that occasion to be sent for
by the Council) felt himself, as it were for his own surety,
wvATpre- compelled to anticipate his time. But whether
venteth the ,1, .1 i i * r i '*. '
time. that were the cause or no, doubtful it is.
But certain it was that WYAT, then proceeding in his
detestable purpose, armed himself and as many as he could :
and, giving intelligence of his determination to his com-
The first day plices, as well at London as elsewhere, the
at Mlftaone!' Thursday after, at Maidstone, in the market time,
being the 25th day of January [1554], in the first year of the
Queen's reign, by Proclamation in writing, published his
devilish pretence.
io"janrciC555'.] WvAT RAISES KENT AGAINST STRANGERS. 47
And considering with himself that to make the pretence
of his Rebellion to be the restoring or continuance The cause why
of the new and newly-forged Religion was neither ^Reil^on
agreeable to the nature of Heresy (which always ^g^^/
defendeth itself by the name and countenance of his Rebellion.
other matter more plausible) ; neither so apt to further his
wicked purpose, being not a case so general to allure all
sorts to take part with him : he determined to speak no
word of Religion, but to make the only colour The colour of
[pretence] of his commotion, only to withstand Rebellion.
Strangers \i.e. the Spaniards}, and to advance Liberty.
For as he made his full reckoning that such as accorded
with him in religion would wholly join with him in that
rebellion ; so he trusted that the Catholics for the most part
would gladly embrace that quarrel against the Strangers ;
whose name he took to become odible to all sorts by the
seditious and malicious report which he and his had
maliciously imagined and blown abroad against .,
. J . , . , ? , , WYAT s pre-
that nation, as a preparative to their abominable parative to his
treason. Rebellion-
His Proclamation therefore published at Maidstone, and
so in other places, persuaded that quarrel to be taken in
hand in the defence of the realm from overrunning by
Strangers and for the advancement of Liberty : where, in
very deed, his only and very matter was the continuance of
heresy : as by his own words at sundry times shall hereafter
appear.
And to the end the people should not think that he alone,
with a few other mean Gentlemen, had taken that traitorous
enterprise in hand without comfort or aid of higher ^i^'per.
powers, he untruly and maliciously added further suasions to
i • -r> 1 M • i . ^i i further his
to his Proclamation, by persuasion to the people : Rebellion.
That all the Nobility of the realm and the whole [Privy]
Council (one or two only except) were agreeable to his
pretensed treason, and would with all their power and
strength further the same ; (which he found most untrue, to
his subversion): and That the Lord ABERGAVENNY, [Sir
THOMAS CHEYNEY,] the Lord Warden [of the Cinque
Ports], Sir ROBERT SOUTHWELL, High Sheriff, with all
other Gentlemen would join with him in this enterprise, and
set their foot by his, to repel the Strangers.
48 WYAT WOULD RESTORE PROTESTANTISM, [ij^'^s.
This Proclamation and such annexed persuasions made at
HowWYAT-s Maidstone on the market day, and in other parts
untrne per- of the Shire, had so wrought in the hearts of the
abusedlhe people that divers (which before hated him, and
people. he them) were noWj as it seemed, upon this occa
sion, mutually reconciled ; and said unto him, " Sir, is your
quarrel only to defend us from overrunning by Strangers
and to advance Liberty ; and not against the Queen ? "
a hem" "is °o " No>" <luod WYAT, " we mind nothing less
say one thing than any wise to touch her Grace ; but to serve
Mother" her and honour her, according to our duties."
" Well," quod they, " give us then your hand. We will
stick to you to death in this quarrel ! "
That done, there came to him one other, of good wealth,
saying, " Sir," quod he, " they say I love potage well. I will
sell all my spoons, and all the plate in my house rather than
your purpose shall quail ; and sup my potage with my
mouth [see p. 72]. I trust," quod he, " you will restore the
right religion again."
" Whist ! " quod WYAT, " you may not so much as name
WYAT-S own religion, for that will withdraw from us the hearts
words to prove of many. You must only make your quarrel for
Heresy to be . <-, A .. • , , .
the ground of overrunning by Strangers. And yet to thee, be it
his Rebellion. saj(j jn coungg^ as unto my friend, we mind only
the restitution of GOD's Word. But no words ! "
By these his words it appeared that his principal intent
was not to keep out Strangers, which commonly do not
invade to our hindrance but by rebellion amongst ourselves ;
nor to advance Liberty, which ever decayeth through
treason : but to advance Heresy, the Lady Regent of his
life and doings.
This same Thursday [25th January 1554] as WYAT,.
THOMAS ISLEY, and others were occupied at Maidstone
with Proclamations to stir the people and such like ; so were
others his confederates occupied in like manner by Pro
clamations at Milton, Ashford, and other towns in the east
parts of the Shire. Through whose allurements, the multi
tude were grown so earnestly affected to WYAT'S purpose
that they suffered Master CHRISTOPHER ROPER, a man of
good worship and so esteemed of them, to be taken of
,ojja^0i555r:] WYAT ARRESTS ROPER, TUCKE, & DoRREL49
WYAT'S ministers, and carried out of the market place,
without any manner of rescue : for that he, The aPPrehen
i- i • i_ i f 11 e* i ,-t slon °« Master
having his heart and eye lull fixed upon the CHRISTOPHER
Queen, not only withstood the reading of WYAT'S £bd£bythe
traitorous Proclamation at Milton ; but also in the same place
proclaimed him and all his, traitors. And being roughly
charged therewith by WYAT and others his gallants, Master
when he was brought to Rochester, he answered, Rop^words.
" This tongue spake it, and doth now avow it." to WYAT.
They suffered Master TUCKE also, and Master DORREL
of Calehill, being Gentlemen of good worship and „,
. r -r> i i ri The apprehen-
Justices of Peace, to be taken out of their houses sion of Master
by the rebels ; and conveyed, without any manner Ma^er an
of rescue, in the day time, to Rochester, being DoRREU
twenty miles distant : where they, with Master ROPER, were
kept as prisoners in great danger of life.
In like manner, Sir HENRY ISLEY, ANTHONY KNEVET,
WILLIAM KNEVET, with others, were at Tonbridge, Seven-
oaks, and other towns in the west parts of the Shire, stirring
the people by alarms, drums, and Proclamations.
Now ye shall understand that the evening afore [24th
January 1554] the publishing his pretence at HOW WYAT
Maidstone, WYAT sent a letter, by one THOMAS sSSrSnS
MONDE, a man of much honesty, to Sir ROBERT intent to stir-
SOUTHWELL, being Sheriff of the Shire : unto whom long
before, as I can understand, he had neither spoken nor
written other than in defiance ; they being in contention for
matters of religion as it was said. Nevertheless to serve his
purpose, dissembling his great malice and haughty courage,
he wrote a letter to him of such effect as followeth :
The effect of WYAT'S letter to Sir ROBERT
SOUTHWELL, Sheriff of Kent.
jjFTER hearty commendations. There hath been
between you and me many quarrels and grudges,
and I ever the sufferer ; and yet have you
sought the end which is now friendly offered unto
you, if you be willing to receive it ;
ENG. GAR. VIII. 4
50 WYAT'S PROCLAMATION AT MAIDSTONE. [1
But whatsoever private quarrel you have to me, I doubt
not but your wisdom is too much, seeing so many perils at
hand to us both (this pretensed Marriage \pf King PHILIP to
Queen MARY\ taking effect), to dissent from us in so neces
sary a purpose as wherein we now determine to enter for the
common wealth of the whole realm. And that you may
the better understand our pretence, I send you the copy of
our Proclamation comprehending the sum and effect of our
meaning : whereunto if the common wealth shall find you
•an enemy, say not hereafter but that you were friendly
. warned.
We forbear to write to the Lord ABERGAVENNY ; for
what you may do with him, if you list, we know.
The style of WYAT'S Proclamation.
A Proclamation agreed unto by THOMAS
WYAT, GEORGE HARPER, HENRY ISLEY,
vJsumpffon'of Knights / and by divers of the best
of the Shire ; sent unto the
commons of the same.
[ORASMUCH as it is now spread abroad, and certainly
pronounced by [STEPHEN GARDINER, Bishop
of WINCHESTER] the Lord Chancellor and others
of the [Privy] Council, of the Queen's determinate
pleasure to marry with a Stranger, &c. We there-
Because. fore write unto you, because you be our friends,
and because you be Englishmen, that you will join with us,
as we will with you unto death, in this behalf; protesting
unto you before GOD, that no earthly cause could move us
unto this enterprise but this alone : wherein we seek no
Such Council- harm to the Queen, but better counsel and Coun-
lors, he mean- cillors \ which also we would have foreborne in all
eth, as would . . , . _ ,
.favour heresy, other matters, saving only in this, ror herein
lieth the health and wealth of us all.
For trial hereof and manifest proof of this intended pur-
LO, loud He! pose, lo now, even at hand, Spaniards be now
already arrived at Dover, at one passage, to the number of a
^o-ja^TS] THE SHERIFF'S SPEECH TO THOMAS MONDE; 51
hundred, passing upward to London in companies of ten,
four, and six, with harness \armour\ harquebusses and
morians [helmets} with match light[ed] ; the foremost com
pany whereof be already at Rochester.
We shall require you therefore to repair to such places as
the bearers hereof shall pronounce unto you, there to
assemble and determine what may be best for the advance
ment of Liberty and common wealth in this behalf, and to
l>ring with you such aid as you may.
The end of WYATS Proclamation.
The messenger that brought the letter, with the Pro tarna
tion, from WYAT to the Sheriff, being not privy to the con
tents thereof and having charge, upon his life, to return an
answer with all spaed, importuned the Sheriff so much there
fore (although he saw him greatly busied in giving advertise
ment throughout the Shire of WYAT'S traitorous determina
tion) as he nevertheless (to satisfy the messenger, whom he
knew to be a right honest man ; notwithstanding his diligetce
was abused in so lewd a message), made him answer out of
hand as followeth :
The Sheriff's answer to the Messenger
that brought WYAT'S letter.
fElGHBOUR MONDE, rather to satisfy your im
portunity than to answer WYAT'S letter, whom
in this case I disdain to answer, or to speak with
you apart coming from a traitor, yo may say
unto him, That as indeed I have been desirous of
his friendship for neighbourhood's sake, so have I much more
desired his reformation in divers points of grea disorder :
whereby he certainly knew, as well by my speech to himself
as other means coming to his knowledge, that I have sithens
the beginning of the Queen's reign holden him and some rf
his colleges {colleagues] in this conspiracy vehemently suspect
ed for like matters as now they have attempted.
52 WYAT MARCHES TO ROCHESTER. [»JjjTSSl
" Wherein seeing he hath not deceived me, but by opening
himself hath manifestly verified mine opinion conceived of
him ; I purpose not to purchase his friendship so dear[ly] as
for the game of him to lose myself and my posterity in
perpetual infamy. And if such things which his fond [foolish]
head hath weighed for perils, to the condemnation of the
whole wisdom of the realm (they allowing the same for good),
had been indeed as perilous as he with others, for want of
due consideration, deemeth them : his duty had been to have
opened his opinion therein as a humble and reverent
petitioner to the Queen's Highness, or to some of her Grace's
Council. But to press his Sovereign, in any suit or upon
any occasion, with weapon and armour, by stirring her
subjects to rebellion ; that is, and always hath been, account
ed the part of the most arrogant and presumptuous traitors :
and so do I note him and his mates, as you may tell them ;
and shall, GOD willing, provide for them accordingly.
" Now good man MONDE, it shall be in your choice
whether you will carry this message or no. But, as your
friend, I shall advise you to seek out better company."
The messenger excusing himself by ignorance, departed to •
WYAT with answer : and, soon after, returned to the Sheriff;
under whom he served the Queen very faithfully.
The Sheriff being made privy, as ye have heard, by WYAT
to his traitorous pretence the night before he stirred ; and
wanting no good will, as it should seem, with the help of the
Lord ABERGAVENNY who was as' forward as he, to have
resisted the reading of WYAT'S Proclamation at Maidstone
the day following and to disperse his force, sent for Gentle
men and yeomen in all haste to that end.
But before he could gather Power meet to attempt the
repressing of such a force (sundry of his neighbours of
greatest possessions, and towns most populous, which should
have been his chief aid, being contrary bent), WYAT accom
panied with a force well armed and weaponed marched to
Rochester the same Thursday [25th January 1554]; HARPER
and others meeting him in the way. Where fortifying the
east parts of the town, and breaking up the bridge towards
the west ; he abode the coming of his appointed strength :
suffering all passengers to pass quietly through the town, to-
TQ-jan^Iss'] ISLEY'S PROCLAMATION AT TONBRIDGE. 53
London, or to the sea ; taking nothing from them but only
their weapons.
And being the Friday [26th January] all day at Rochester,
and not hearing from ISLEY, the town of Tonbridge, and
other his conjurates of the west part of the Shire ; he
addressed an earnest letter the Saturday morning [27th
January] to ISLEY, the KNEVETS, and others, with the town of
Tonbridge, requiring them to accelerate their coming unto him.
According whereunto ISLEY, the KNEVETS, with others,
t>eing newly returned from Penshurst (where they rifled Sir
HENRY SIDNEY [of] his armour; he being The rifling of
attendant upon the Queen's Highness as a faithful lirD?EYNhu
subject), perceiving WYAT to long for their com- armour-
ing, resolved to observe their promise and march forwards
that night towards WYAT.
But understanding that the Lord ABERGAVENNY, the
Sheriff, and GEORGE CLARKE had now gathered a force, and
were prest to encounter them : first ere they departed out of
the town, they thought it good by some kind of Proclamation,
to alienate the people's hearts from them ; as they did in the
manner following :
The copy of the Proclamation made at Tonbridget
by Sir HENRY ISLEY, ANTONY KNEVET
and his brother^ with others.
Ou shall understand that HENRY [NEVILLE]
Lord ABERGAVENNY, ROBERT SOUTHWELL
Knight, GEORGE CLARKE Gentleman, have most
traitorously, to the disturbance of the common
wealth, stirred and raised up the Queen's most
loving subjects of this realm to defend the most wicked and
devilish enterprise of certain of the wicked and perverse
Councillors, to the utter confusion of this her Grace's realm,
and the perpetual servitude of all the Queen's most loving
subjects. In consideration whereof, we Sir THOMAS WYAT
Knight, Sir GEORGE HARPER Knight, Sir HENRY ISLEY
Knight, ANTONY KNEVET Esquire, with all the faithful
Gentlemen of Kent and trusty commons of the same, do
54 THE QUEEN'S HERALD AT ROCHESTER. [IOJj
Proctor,
an. 1555.
pr-onounce the said HENRY Lord ABERGAVENNY, ROBERT
SOUTHWELL and GEORGE CLARKE Gentleman, to be traitors
to GOD, the Crown, and the common wealth.
This done, with all speed calling their company together
by noise of drums, and leaving their direct way to Rochester,
for that they would not come under the wing of the Lord
ABERGAVENNY and the Sheriff, they marched that night
[27th January] to Sevenoaks. Taking order with such as
were left behind in the town [of Tonbridge], that they should
be in a readiness to come whensoever they should be sent
for by WYAT ; and that by no ways they should believe any
tales. " For," quod they, " the Council will now send abroad
flying lies and tales to discredit us and discomfort you : for
it is their policy."
ANTONY KNEVET, after he was lept to his horse, took one
by the hand, and said, " Fare you well. And if you hap to
hear that I am taken, never believe it: for undoubtedly I
will either die in the field or achieve my purpose." But
within four and twenty hours he brake his promise, and ran.
away no faster than his legs could carry him.
Well, I shall now leave them marching to Sevenoaks ; and
The Herald's return to WYAT at Rochester. This present
Rrchelte'r. Saturday [27th January] came unto him from the
Queen's Highness a Herald and a trumpeter.
WYAT, at the sound of the trumpet, came to the bridge,
where the Herald was with his coat armour carrying
the Arms of England on his back. But WYAT, with
out using any reverence to him either for his coat or office,
would not suffer him to come into the town to declare his
message ; and [the Herald] pressing to come in, he offered to
strike him : whereupon the Herald stayed and did his message
there, so that only WYAT with a few with him heard it.
Which, as men could gather by the report of them that heard
it, was promise of pardon to as many as would retire to their
houses within four and twenty hours after the Proclamation,
and become good subjects. But WYAT would not suffer his
soldiers in anywise to hear it, nor any other Proclamation
coming from the Queen.
In the mean time also, Sir THOMAS CHEYNEY, Lord
iojan^sssj ^HE QUEEN'S FORCES AT MALLING. 55
Warden, being a most faithful and noble subject, had sent
him such salutations as of honour ought to be used The Lord
to a traitor. And being very desirous to be doing ^eedng'o
with him, and to prove on his body what in WYAT-
words of greeting he had affirmed, felt yet by his discretion
and long experience great causes of stay. For WYAT
desired nothing more than his coming forth ; persuading
[himself] that he wanted no friends about him, nor any
others that would take in hand to repress him with force
gathered in that Shire. And, undoubtedly, doubtful were
the hearts of the people, and marvellously bent to favour
WYAT and his purpose ; as by daily events appeared.
The Lord , ABERGAVENNY and the Sheriff who, the
Saturday [27th January] next after WYAT'S stir, were at
Mailing in the way towards Rochester (where WYAT lay);
having with them a company of well appointed subjects.
In whom notwithstanding for the more part they had good
opinion of trustiness and honesty : yet having the general
case of the people's disposition in their eye ; and not without
cause suspecting in their Band, amongst so many faithful
and good, some such to be, upon trust of whose trustless
and brittle aid it were no good policy to adventure far —
pondering therewith that this illusion of the people, whereby
they were so far drawn from their right course and duty,
grew chiefly by such crafty and false persuasions as WYAT
and his mates had set forth in sundry parts of the Shire,
by way of Proclamation in writing : wherein, amongst other
gross lies they had set forth also matters of untruth to
discredit the Lord ABERGAVENNY and the Sheriff; as
WYAT, in his persuasions, that they would join with him ;
and ISLEY, in his Proclamation that they had traitorously
assembled, the Queen's loving subjects against her Grace
and the realm.
It seemed unto them very good and necessary to spend
some time at Mailing in advising and lessening [lessoning]
the multitude ; and by way of exhortation to impugn those
traitorous Proclamations, and refell such gross and false
lies therein contained ; and finally to dissuade the people,
which, that day being market day, were assembled to a great
number of all sorts, from the traitors and their attempts.
56 THE SHERIFF'S EXHORTATION AT MALLING. [IOJj^S
And accordingly the Sheriff had penned an Exhortation
to that purpose, which was pronounced out of writing in
Mailing; and sent after by him into other parts. The
hearing whereof did undoubtedly much move the people,
as after shall appear.
I shall report the same in substance truly ; howbeit not
fully in the same form and manner as I found it, and as
it was penned and pronounced by the Sheriff: who, in
the utterance and setting forth thereof, spared not to speak
plainly and touch sharply, as then the present time and
case employed vehement occasion.
An Exhortation made by Sir ROBERT SOUTHWELL
Knight, Sheriff of Kent, at Mailing, the Satur
day being the 27 th day of January, and
market day there, to a great assembly
of people; refelling and confuting
WYAT and his complices*
traitorous Proclama
tions. WYAT being
at Rochester,
four miles
distant.
OviNG neighbours and friends. Where of late
there hath been most pestilent and traitorous
Proclamations, as ye have heard, set forth by
THOMAS WYAT, GEORGE HARPER, HENRY
ISLEY, and others, as most arrant traitors to the
Queen and the realm ; some of them the Queen's ancient
enemies aforetime, and double traitors : yet notwithstanding
accounting themselves to be the best of the Shire in their
Proclamations ; and in the same reputing and pronouncing
others as traitors whom ye can witness to have been, from
time to time, true and faithful subjects to the Queen and
this our common weal, as the Lord ABERGAVENNY here
Ja^TsssO SPANIARDS HAVE NOT ARRIVED AT DOVER. 57
present, myself, and other Gentlemen now prest and
ready with you, according to our duty, to serve our noble
Queen. I shall need to spend the less time to declare
unto you how evil they be, or how evil their enterprise
is that they have taken in hand : forasmuch as this their
arrogant presumption and presumptuous pride in advancing
themselves so far from all truth, and in depraving of others
so maliciously for executing their bounden duty, ought
abundantly to persuade what they be, to all of consideration,
without further circumstance.
" But forasmuch as in their Proclamations they fill the
ears of the Queen's liege people with gross and manifest
lies to stir them against her Grace, in the utterance whereof
they use this demonstration, " Lo ! " signifying some notable
thing near at hand, for credit worthy impression in their
memory, as : —
' Lo, a great number of Strangers be now arrived
at Dover in harness [armour] with harquebusses
morians and matchlight.'
" I say unto you, neighbours and friends, upon pain to
be torn in pieces with your hands, that it is untrue ; and
a manifest lie invented by them to provoke and irritate
the Queen's simple people to join with them in their traitorous
enterprise. And therefore I have perfect hope that you,
being afore time abused with their crafty and deceitful
treason, will not now once again (having experience of
their former evil) be trapped, for any persuasion, in so
heinous a snare as this most vile and horrible crime of
treason.
" Do you not see and note that, as in the beginning
of the Queen's most gracious reign, some of them sought
to deprive her Grace of her princely estate and rightful
dignity, minding to advance thereunto the Lady JANE,
•daughter to the Duke of SUFFOLK ; so are they and others
newly confedered {confederated} with the Duke and his
brethren, being in arms at this present for the same purpose,
and daily looking for aid of these traitors and others of
their conspiracy : as by the Queen's most gracious letters,
signed with her own hand, and ready to be read here, may
plainly appear unto you ? And will you now nevertheless
-aid them any ways, or sit still whilst they go about thus
58 THEY BLEAR YOU AS TO STRANGERS. [IOJjan!Ts50sr:
wrongfully and traitorously to depose their, and our, most
gracious Sovereign Lady and Queen ! the comfort of us
all ! the stay of us all ! the only safeguard of us all ! to
whom can no displeasure or danger chance, but the same
must double \doubly] redound to all and every of us !
" No, friends and neighbours, I trust never to live to
see you so far abused. They go about to blear you with
matters of Strangers, as though they should come to overrun
you and us also. He seemeth very blind, and willingly
blinded, that will have his sight dimmed with such a fond
[foolish] mist ! For if they meant to resist Strangers, as
they mind nothing less : they would then prepare to go to
the sea coasts ; and not to the Queen's most royal person,,
with such a company in arms and weapon[s].
" Ye can consider, I trust, this noble Gentleman, the Lord
ABERGAVENNY here present, being of an ancient and great
parentage, born among you ; and such other Gentlemen
as you see here, which be no strangers unto you ; myself
also, although a poor Gentleman (who I trust at no time
hath abused you), hath somewhat to lose as well as they;
and would be as loth to be overrun with Strangers as
they; if any such thing were meant. But for that we
know most certainly that there is meant no manner of evil
to us by those Strangers ; but rather aid profit and comfort
against other strangers, our ancient enemies \t1ie French] ;
with whom they, as most arrant and degenerate traitors,
do indeed unkindly and unnaturally join : we, in her Grace's
defence, will spend both life and what we have beside, to-
the uttermost penny, against them.
"Well, I can no more now say unto you, but (under
standing the Queen's Highness, as a most merciful Princess,
to be once again determined to pardon as many as, by
their traitorous and deceitful Proclamations and other
illusions, were allured to this last treason ; so they repair
to their habitations within four and twenty hours after
her Grace's Proclamation read, and become true subjects
to her Grace) to advise such as hath taken part with those
traitors, or have withdrawn themselves (contrary to their
allegiance) from aiding and serving of their Sovereign,
according to their duties, against her enemies, thankfully
to accept and embrace her most gracious pardon ; and use
lo^0^] I CHARGE YOU TO AVOID WYAT S PLACES? 5£
means of themselves to apprehend those arrant and principal
traitors, and make a present of them to the Queen's
Highness ; or leave them to themselves, as most detestable
traitors : who being once so graciously and mercifully
forgiven could not but carry the clemency of the same in
their hearts to the furtherance of all obedience whiles they
lived, if there had been any spark of grace in them.
" And further I have to say unto you that as these
traitors, by their Proclamations without authority, have
moved you to stir against the Queen your Sovereign ; and
appointed you places where to meet and consult for the
furtherance of their traitorous purpose and to bring with
you such aid as you can : so shall I require you, and in
her. Grace's name charge you that be here present, not
to come there ; but that you, and such as be absent, taking
knowledge hereby, repair to such places as I, the Queen's
Sheriff and Officer, shall appoint you, with such aid as
you can bring for the better service of the Queen and the
Shire : where you shall be assured to receive comfort,
thanks, and honesty to the end of your lives and your
posterity. And the other way but endless shame and
utter undoing to you and yours ; which shall be worst to
yourselves, and yet a great grief to us your neighbours:
whose advice in all other your private causes you have
been content to follow ; and now in this weightiest that
hath, or may, happen to you will refuse us, and follow
them that hath ever abused you to your and their utter
confusion.
At Mailing, the 2/th of January [1554], anno Maria primo.
GOD save Queen MARY and all her well willers ! "
The Sheriff reading this Exhortation, caused one BARRAM,
a Gentleman and servant to the Lord ABERGAVENNY, to
pronounce it, as he read it, so loud and so distinctly as
the people assembled round about him, to a very great
number, in manner of a ring, might easily hear and under
stand every word proceeding from BARRAM : who of his
own head cried out unto them, " You may not so much
as lift up your finger against your King or Queen ! "
And after the people had heard the Sheriff's Exhortation ;
60 THE PEOPLE AT MALLING DEFY WYAT. [^ja^0^;
and cried " GOD save Queen MARY ! " which they did
most heartily, spending therein a convenient time ; the
Sheriff used these words unto them :
"Masters," quod he, "although I alone did speak unto
The sheriff's vou > vet wnat words were spoken to you by me
speech to the were also spoken to you by the Lord ABER-
GAVENNY and all the Gentlemen here present: in
whose persons I then spake ; and now require at your hands
a plain and resolute answer. Will you now therefore join
with such as you see evidently to be arrant traitors ; or
else with the Lord ABERGAVENNY and such Gentlemen
as you see here present, that will live and die with you
in defence of our rightful Queen against these traitors ? "
The people with one voice defied WYAT and his complices
The eo le's as arrant traitors, and said that they now well
answer to the espied they had but abused them. Wherefore in
defence of Queen MARY, they would die upon
them : expressing their minds with such earnest shouts and
cries as shewed to proceed unfeignedly from their hearts ;
which after was confirmed by a better experience the day
following, as ye shall anon hear.
But by the way ye shall understand that WYAT hearing
WYAT'S of this Proclamation, said, " I know that BARRAM
BA^R'AM^ weM 5 but yet I never took him to have so wide a
reward. throat. If I live, I may happen to make him
crow a higher note in another place." What trow you
should then have become of the author ?
In the Sunday following [28th January 1554], the Lord
ABERGAVENNY, the Sheriff, and the rest of the Gentlemen
were determined to have marched in the morning early
towards Rochester, to have aided the Duke of NORFOLK
The Duke of and Sir HENRY JERNINGHAM Captain of the
iif HENRvand Guard, then being at Gravesend, towards WYAT ;
JERNING- with a certain Band \Regimeni\ of White Coats,
HAM s coming L &> J
to Gravesend. to the number of ooo, sent unto them from
London ; whereof BRET and others were their Captains.
ROGER ROGER APPULTON Gentleman was also at
THOMLATS°SNWAN Gravesend with the Duke, attendant to serve:
trusty Gentle- wherein likewise was THOMAS SWAN Gentle
men.
man.
•AS^Ss*] THE NIGHT ALARM AT MALLING. 6t
This Saturday [2/th January] at night, the Lord ABER-
GAVENNY suspecting WYAT and his complices (living within
four miles of them ; and being so much provoked in that
they were, in the day, so rightly set forth in their colours
\illusions\ at Mailing) would, for revenge, work some
annoyance to them or his Band that night, either by a
camasado [night attack'] or by some other means ; did
therefore, to prevent the same, set a strong watch in the
market place at Mailing and other parts of entry The Lord
into the town : and gave the watchword himself ^EtheAwa?cNhY
before he would take any rest. in person.
But between one and two of the clock in the night, when
everybody was taken to rest save the watch, there A larom at
happened a larom \an alarm], sundry crying, Mallins-
" Treason ! Treason ! We are all betrayed ! " in such sort
that such as were in their beds or newly risen thought
verily that, either WYAT with his Band had been in the
town, or very near.
The thing was so sudden and happened in such a time as
men not acquainted with like matters were so amazed
that some of them knew not well what to do : and yet
in the end it proved to [be] nothing.
For it grew by a messenger that came, very late in the
night, desiring to speak with the Lord ABERGAVENNY or
Master Sheriff, to give them certain advertisement, That
Sir HENRY ISLEY, the two KNEVETS, and certain others,
with 500 Wealdish men \i.e.,from the Weald of Kent] were
at Sevenoaks ; and would march in the morning early from
thence towards Rochester, for the aid of WYAT A meaning of
against the Duke of NORFOLK : and in their way, {JMSiS
burn and destroy the house of GEORGE CLARKE GEORGE
* CLARKE s
aforesaid. house.
Whereupon the Lord ABERGAVENNY and the Sheriff,
by the advice of the Gentlemen before named, for that
the said CLARKE had been a painful [painstaking] and
serviceable Gentleman, changed their purposed journey from
Rochester, to encounter with ISLEY and his Band, to cut
them [off] from WYAT and save CLARKE from spoil.
And so, in the morning early, being Sunday [28th Jan
uary 1554], the Lord ABERGAVENNY; the Sheriff; WAR-
62 6oo QUEEN'S MEN GO TO FIGHT ISLEY, &c. [IOJjan!T5S
RAM SENTLEGER, RICHARD COVERT, THOMAS ROYDON,
The marching ANTONY WELDON, HENRY BARNEY, GEORGE
ABERGAVENNY CLARKE, JOHN DODGE, THOMAS WATTON,
t° encounter'* HUGH CATLYN, THOMAS HENLEY, CHRISTOPHER
ISLEY. DORREL, HUGH CARTWRIGHT, JOHN SYBIL,
Esquires; JOHN CLARKE, DARSIE of Wrotham, THOMAS
CHAPMAN, JAMES BARRAM, JASPER IDEN, JOHN LAMBE,
WALTER HERONDEN, WALTER TAYLOR, JOHN RAY-
NOLDES, THOMAS TUTTESHAM, JOHN ALLEN, and THOMAS
HOLDICHE, Gentlemen ; with yeomen to the number of
600 or thereabouts ; marched out of Mailing in order till
Wrotham tne7 came to Wrotham Heath : where they might
Heath. easily hear the sound of the traitor's drums ; and
so, making haste, pursued them till they came to a place
Barrow Green, called Barrow Green \Borough Green'] through
which lay their right and ready way that the traitors
should take, marching from Sevenoaks towards Master
CLARKE.
The Lord ABERGAVENNY, being very glad that he had
prevented [anticipated] them in winning the Green, sent
out spials [spies] to understand their nearness, and to dis-
crive [ascertain] their number : reposing themselves there
till the return of his spials : who at their coming said, That
he needed not to take further pains to pursue them, for
they were at hand, coming towards him as fast as they could
march. Which was glad tidings to the Lord ABERGAVENNY
and his Band. And taking order forthwith to set his men
in array ; he determined to abide their coming, and there
to take or give the overthrow.
Which the traitors understanding, Whether it was for
that they misliked the match, or the place to fight ; whiles
The shrinking the Lord ABERGAVENNY and his Band were busy
of the rebels. jn piacing themselves ] they shrank as secretly as
they could by a bye-way. And were so far gone before
the Lord ABERGAVENNY understood thereof by his spials ;
as for doubt [fear] of overtaking them afore their coming
to Rochester, he was driven to make such haste for the
overtaking of them as divers of his footmen were far behind
at the onset giving.
The first sight that the Lord ABERGAVENNY could have
of them, after they forsook their purposed way, was as they
,oJja^Ts5s'.] THE SKIRMISH AT BLACKSOLL FIELD. 63
ascended Wrotham Hill, directly over [against] Yaldam,
Master PECKHAM's house. Where they, thinking to have
great advantage by the winning of the Hill, dis- The displaying
, , , - •£ . J , . ' . of the rebel's
played their Ensigns bravely : seeming to be in Ensigns.
great ruff. But it was not long after ere their courage
was abated. For the Lord ABERGAVENNY, the Sheriff,
and the rest of the Gentlemen, with such other of the
Queen's true and faithful subjects, as with great pains
taking to climb the Hill and to hold way with The rebel's
the Horsemen, overtook the rebels at a field
called Blacksoll Field in the parish of Wrotham, f S80"
a mile distant from the very top of the Hill ; where the
Lord ABERGAVENNY, the Sheriff, the Gentlemen afore
named, and others the Queen's true and faithful subjects,
handled them so hot and so fiercely that, after a The skirmish.
small shot with long bows by the traitors, and a fierce
brag shewed by some of the Horsemen, they took their
flight away as fast as they could. Yet of them were taken
prisoners above three score.
In this conflict WARRAM SENTLEGER, who brought with
him a good company of soldiers and [was] always a ser
viceable Gentleman, also GEORGE CLARKE, ANTONY
WELDON, and RICHARD CLARKE did very honestly
behave themselves. WILLIAM SENTLEGER, hearing of
a fray towards between the Queen's true subjects and the
traitors, came to the Lord ABERGAVENNY into the field,
with all haste, not an hour before the Skirmish ; who with
the rest of the Gentlemen, with certain of the Lord
ABERGAVENNY's and [the] Sheriff's servants, being all
well horsed, served faithfully : and from thence chased
the Horsemen till they came to a wood called The chase of
Hartley Wood, four miles distant from the place theHorsemen-
where the onset began.
The Queen's true subjects did so much abhor their
treason, and had the traitors in such detestation, as with
great difficulty any escaped with life that were taken
prisoners ; and yet were they all very well armed and
weaponed, and had also great advantage by the place of
fight. Sir HENRY ISLEY lay all that night in the Wood,
and fled after into Hampshire. The two KNEVETS, being
well horsed, were so hastily pursued as they were driven
64 FLIGHT OF ISLEY AND THE TWO KNEVETS. [Ji^10^
554-
to leave their horses, and creep into the Wood ;
and for haste to rip their boots from their legs and
run away in the vampage of their hose. The chase
continued so long as night came on before it was full
finished.
Thus were ISLEY, the KNEVETS, and their Band over
thrown by the faithful service of divers Gentlemen and
yeomen serving under the Lord ABERGAVENNY and the
Sheriff; whose forwardness courage and wisdom in this
traitorous broil no doubt was very much praiseworthy ; as
well for their speedy acceleration of their strength which
(considering how they were every way [enjcompassed with
the traitors) was no small matter in so little space ; and for
their wise and politic handling also in keeping them
together from WYAT, who marvellously and by sundry
ways sought to allure them away. For had not they, in
their own persons, to the encouraging of their company
adventured far ; and by their wisdom, discretion and great
charge, politically handled the matter : some think that
WYAT had been at London before he was looked for by
any good man, with no small train ; whose journey was
greatly hindered, and his company very much discomfited
by this repulse given to ISLEY and his Band. Where,
amongst other things, GOD's secret hand was greatly felt,,
to the great comfort and present aid of true subjects against
the traitors : who having such advantage of the place, as
indeed they had, were like rather to give, than receive^
so foul an overthrow. But this it is, you see, to serve in a
true cause ; and her whom GOD so favoureth that he
will not suffer the malice and rage of her enemies at any
time to prevail against her : to whom he hath given so
many notable victories and so miraculous that her enemies
might seem rather to have been overthrown Spiritu DEI
than vanquished humano robore.
The Lord ABERGAVENNY, the Sheriff, and the Gentle-
Thanksgiving men with them, after they had given humble
I'ictory. ° thanks to GOD for the victory, which they did
very reverently in the Field, and taken order for the prisoners,
were driven to divide themselves for want of harborough
[lodging] and vittaile [victuals] for the soldiers, that had
well deserved both. The Lord ABERGAVENNY and certain
ic/ian^ilsL] HARPER RUNS AWAY FROM WYAT. 65
with him went to Wrotham. The Sheriff and certain with
him to Otford, where they had much to do to get vittaile
for their soldiers.
The Lord ABERGAVENNY and the Sheriff (suspecting
that some of those Gentlemen lately discomfited in this
Skirmish would not long tarry in the realm, but make
shift to pass the seas ; yea, by spial [spies], understanding
that WYAT himself with some of his company thereunto
bent) devised to lay \warti\ the country [round] about, that
they might not escape. And considering that they would
not do it at Dover, nor in that coast \districf\ ; they
knowing [Sir JOHN CHEYNEY] the Lord Warden to have
such watch unto them : but rather, for sundry respects,
at Rye, or more southward. And having great THOMAS
proof of THOMAS DORRELL the younger his iStn^th?
fidelity ; he returned the same DORRELL, being younger,
newly come unto him with 80 men well appointed, into
Sussex: giving him strait charge that, consulting with Sir
JOHN GuiLDFORD, they should, both day and night, set
a sure watch for the passing of any that way to the sea-
coast ; and further to take such order as no munition, fish,
wine, or other vittaile coming out of these parts, should pass
to the relief of the traitors.
ANTONY KNEVET, notwithstanding great and strait watch
laid round about the country by the Sheriff for the appre
hension of him and others that fled, arrived that Sunday
[28th January 1554] at night late at Rochester: where
his news was so joyful that HARPER forthwith HARPER'S
_ • . i r i A -11- 1 r r ^.1- • running away
found the mean[s] to rid himself out of their from WYAT.
company, without any leave taking ; and ran to the Duke
of NORFOLK. To whom he seemed so greatly to lament
his treason, that the Duke, pitying his case, the rather for
the long acquaintance between them in times past, received
him to grace. But, within a day after, he ran from the
Duke and returned to his old mate ; as hereafter shall
appear.
WYAT hearing of ISLEY his overthrow, and under
standing by the proceeding at Mailing the day before, that
those things set forth in his Proclamations whereby he
thought his strength at home to be most surely knit unto
him, were now become rather a weakening than otherwise ;
ENG. GAR. VIII. 5
:66 WYAT, WEEPING, THINKS TO FLY OVER SEA. [10JjanrS»
the people there being ready to fall from him for his so
abusing of them : he fell into so great extreme anguish and
sorrow, as writing a letter of expostulation to some of his
familiars abroad, in reprehension of their infidelity in that
WYAT bewail- they sticked not to him so fast as they promised,
ing his case 11111 i ,
with tears. he bedewed the paper whereupon he wrote with
tears issuing so abundantly from his eyes as it would bear
wvAT'scoatof no ink. And so leaving to write, calling for a
winthealgeis. privy coat [of armour] that he had quilted with
angels [a gold coin of the value of icw.] not long afore ;
which might serve both for his defence, and [also be] a
refuge for his necessity being in another country : he
wvAT'sprac practised with such as were near unto him, where
se°a!to they might have ready passage, and most for
their surety to take the sea, " For England," said he, " is
no place for us to rest in."
His company also shrank from him as fast as they could
devise means to escape : whereunto THOMAS ISLEY and
others had a greater respect than himself; he seeming to
take care for nothing but how he might safely convey
himself [away] ; being well friended, it was thought, with
some of the ship-masters.
Thus was WYAT so mated by the Lord ABERGAVENNY,
WYAT mated, the Sheriff, and their Band as he was at his
wits' end, as ye have heard : and chiefly by keeping him
from that, which by spial about him they afterwards under
stood him specially to desire ; which was offer of battle.
He and his being fully persuaded that there could be no
great force raised against him in the Shire ; whereof the
most part should not be his when it should come to the
shew. Wherein although he might be deceived, as indeed
he was ; yet his quarrel, with the disposition of the
people thereunto well considered, with the end of his
travail which could be but spoil and ravin (ready means
and lures to draw the careless multitude unto him) : it
seemed to the Lord ABERGAVENNY and such as served
with him, better policy for to weary WYAT, and weaken
him by the cutting away of his strength from him ; than to
offer him battle till the Duke of NORFOLK'S coming : whom
the Lord ABERGAVENNY and the Sheriff knew to be at
hand towards WYAT ; unto whom they and all the Gen-
»Jj£°S£] THE DUKE OF NORFOLK AT ROCHESTER. 67
tlemen of their Band, after their Skirmish with ISLEY, made,
the haste possible they might.
But before their coming, the case was wonderfully
changed, to the great discomfort of all the Queen's true
subjects : and that came to pass that \whicfi\ of all men
was least feared. For who was it that suspected such
cruel and malicious disposition to remain in any English
heart towards his country, in any subject's thought towards
his Sovereign, that, receiving her Grace's armour weapons
and money, would have played so traitorous a part as
these Captains did with their Band ? It is so strange a
case as the world never saw. It is so malicious a part as
the Jew would not have done the like, having received his
hire to serve.
So it was that the noble Duke, being an ancient and
worthy Captain (and yet, by long imprisonment, so dis-
wonted from the knowlege of our malicious World and the
iniquity of our Time, as he suspecting nothing less than
that which followed ; but judging every man to accord
with him in desire to serve truly, marched forth the
Monday [29th January 1554], about ten of the The Duke's
•clock in the morning, from Gravesend to Stroud strou'a'to fr°m
towards Rochester ; and about four of the clock Rochester.
in the afternoon of the same day, he arrived at Stroud, near
unto Rochester : having with him the Captain of The names of
the Guard ; MAURICE GRIFFITH, now Bishop of servtognund£n
.Rochester; Sir EDWARD BRAYE, Sir JOHN FOGGE, the Duke.
Knights ; JOHN COVERTE, ROGER APPULTON, Esquires ;
and THOMAS SWAN, Gentleman : with certain of the Guard,
and others, to the number of 200 or thereabout.
Besides BRET and other five Captains : who, with their
Band, being 600, all in white coats, tarried behind BRET Chief
at a hill called Spittle \Hospitat\ Hill, near unto captainofthe
Stroud ; whiles the Duke went to Stroud to see
the planting of the ordnance. Which being ready charged
and bent upon the town of Rochester ; and perceiving
WYAT and the other traitors, by hanging out their flags
upon the bridge wall, to be in great bravery ; which
considering the miserable state they were in the night
before, could not be, had they not received some new comfort
68 THE REVOLT OF THE 600 WHITE COATS. [a/ja^^r
by some traitorous mean[s] : the Duke commanded one of
the pieces to be fired for shot into Rochester.
And, as the gunner was firing the piece, Sir EDWARD
BRAY'S eldest son came in all haste to the Duke saying,
"Sir, did I not tell your Grace, this morning, that yonder
false wretches would deceive you ? "
" How know you that ? " quod the Duke.
"Why, Sir," quod BRAYE, "you may see them, as false
traitors [ready] bent against you,"
And immediately BRET and other Captains of the White-
Coats with their Band, being upon the Hill and at the
back of the Duke, made great and loud shouts sundry
The revolt of times, crying " We are all Englishmen ! We are
the Captains an Englishmen!": fashioning themselves in array,
of the White & , . &
Coats and ready bent with their weapons to set upon the
Band- Duke, if he had made any resistance.
Whereupon the Duke and the Captain of the Guard
commanded the pieces that were bent upon the town, to
be turned upon BRET and his Band. But, upon further
consideration, the shot was spared : and the Duke's Grace
with the Captain of the Guard Sir HENRY JERNINGHAM,
considering (not without bleeding hearts) their chief strength
thus turned upon them, so that they were now environed
both behind and before with traitorous enemies, shifted
themselves away ; as did also their company.
After whose departure, WYAT, accompanied with two
or three and not many more, came out of Rochester half
a mile from the town at the least, to meet the six Captains
of the White Coats. Amongst whom was HARPER, not-
HARPER withstanding his crouching and kneeling before
returned to the Duke ; and fair promises that he would under
take that WYAT should have yielded. Who,
footing afore the other Captains, with his sword drawn,
said to WYAT, " I promised you a good turn, and say
not now but I have paid it."
Who had seen the embracing, clipping, and congratulation
used at this meeting from traitor to traitor, might justly
wonder thereat. Shortly after they had well clawed one
another, they went together like themselves into Rochester.
When this, of all other most infortunate chance[s], came to
RETURN OF THE SHERIFF TO MALLING. 69
the knowledge of the Lord ABERGAVENNY, the Sheriff,
and their friends ; they were not a little troubled with the
strangeness of the case : much doubting that the people,
which before seemed brought to good frame, would be
impaired by this alteration ; and such as were afore evil
•disposed would not be greatly amended thereby.
The Sheriff, being the same night at Maidstone, that had
come the same day from Otford, fourteen miles TheSheriffs
distant, to meet THOMAS GUILDFORD, STEVEN being at
DORRELL, EDWARD HORDEN, JOHN ROBARTES, *
and JOHN FlNCH, Esquires, to march towards the Duke.
And in the morning, so far from any mistrust of that which
followed the same day [Monday, 29th January 1554], as
having no sure place to convey the prisoners, taken the
day before in the Skirmish with ISLEY, he left the chiefest
and trustiest of his servants and friends, both Gentlemen
and yeomen, of all his Band at Mailing, for the
safeguard of the prisoners ; where also lay the Lord
ABERGAVENNY and his Band : doubting [fearing] that
ISLEY and the rest that escaped would have made some means
that night to have recovered the prisoners ; sundry of whom,
being men of good wealth and well friended, and [at that
moment] living within four miles of WYAT.
Upon these news, whether it were for the absence [from
Maidstone] of the Lord ABERGAVENNY and his TheSheriffs
^strength, or mistrusting false measure in the town secret return
r r V? • 1 i. n J '^1 1 r ^i '<> Mailing.
[of Maidstone], or moved with example of the
revolt of the White Coats: he thought, it should seem,
Maidstone no meet place for him to make any abode ;
nor yet good policy, all parts considered, to disclose the
time of his removing. But judging plainly himself the
only mark of these parts whereat the traitors shot ; or falling
.any ways into their hands, so newly after the case of the
Duke, one part of the tragedy to be then ended : he returned
to his strength ; giving knowledge to the Gentlemen re
maining in Maidstone to repair to his house for consultation,
What was to be done for theredubbing ofthat unhappy chance?
In which consultation there did rise so many different
•opinions ; some saying, They would to the Queen ; and
some, to the Earl of PEMBROKE being her Grace's
.Lieutenant : that the Sheriff, without further debating,
7o WYAT'S LETTER TO THE DUKE OF SUFFOLK. [10Jj
Procter.,
an. 1555.
intreating the Lord ABERGAVENNY and certain Gentlemen
to remain and entertain such of their Bands as they could
hold till his return, which he promised should be without
delay, [and then] went to the [Privy] Council for knowledge
of their pleasure ; where he tarried uneth [scarcely] two hours,
but returned in post the same night [to Mailing]. And
at his coming, the Lord ABERGAVENNY and he assembled
as many of their force as they could call together.
The traitors and their friends were grown as men revived
from death to life, flattering themselves that a thing so-
far above men's expectation could not have happened ta
them so fortunately but by GOD'S miraculous provision, as
favouring greatly their case : and so it blew abroad, as well
by wind as by writing ; the more part of the people being
ready to believe it, as the case, in the heads of the multitude,,
was wonderfully changed both for strength and opinion.
WYAT advertised by his letter the Duke of SUFFOLK
WVAT of his victory " by GOD'S provision " as he termed
to threDeukeenof it : whose letter was intercepted in Essex, as
SUFFOLK. the messenger passed the ferry, by a servant
of Sir ROBERT SOUTHWELL'S ; and brought to the Council.
He wrote also to the Duke of NORFOLK, but in another
style ; his letters being open and importing such matter as
follloweth :
" Be it known to all men, and especially to the Duke of
WYAT'S letter NORFOLK, that I have taken nothing in hand
to the Duke of ..... r
NORFOLK. but what I will maintain with the expense of my
life ; which, before it depart out of my body, shall be
sold full dear, &c."
Such of those parts as hung in the wind, as Neuters,
(whereof were no small number that had lurked in caves
An invective a^ the tempest, watching but where should come
against the the victory, that for example of the evil were
nothing inferior to the arrantest traitors but
rather for a number of respects much worse), began to appear
very cheerful, giving themselves great thanks for handling
the matter so finely, that conveying themselves out of the
way by their policy could avoid charge and peril so wittily.
INVECTIVE AGAINST THE NEUTERS. 71
And as they met with such as had served faithfully, with
whom they durst be frank, they spared not to open their
mouths largely, pouring out such language as could be but
lamentable, or rather odible, to every true ear, to understand
any subject so far perverted from his allegiance and duty
that, for gain or security of their own persons, would rejoice
in sitting still as indifferent where the Crown is a party ;
or to persuade security to themselves, be they never in so
strong a hold, where their Sovereign is in peril. Which, all
things rightly weighed, seemed a strange persuasion to
account either gain or saving in sparing some part of the
accidents by sitting still to adventure the loss of the
principal whereupon life and the whole dependeth ; or by
affecting a little corruption inordinately, to lose both honest
fame and good opinion of his country \County\\ which every
honest man ought to seek to preserve as tenderly as the well
doing of himself and his whole posterity.
Thus may we evidently see the divers effects of divers
inclinations according to truth and untruth of perfect
obedience prevailing in men's hearts. These Neuters, or
counterfeits (that would be neither open foes nor adven
turous friends ; but as wily vultures, hovering in the wind to
catch and gripe some part of the prey, although they would
no part of the fray) persuaded themselves to save that which
in their opinion the true hearty subject should lose by giving
such adventure; that was security of body and goods.
Which grant they saved ; yet, in the just judgment of the
honest, they deserved thereby the same blot of infamy that
is due to the open enemies.
On the other side, the true and faithful, whose hearts and
hands such dim colour [illusion] of unthankful policy could
not withhold from the utterance of needful service in such
general case of danger, thought it rather a gain to adventure
body and goods ; whereby either to preserve the head and
the whole, which was cruelly pursued ; or at least by defence
of the same to purchase unto them and their names the
honest opinion of unspotted members, and the immortality
of good fame wherewith truth always rewardeth unfeigned
service. For such an incomparable virtue is faithful loyalty,
so much abhorring all corruptible allurements, that whose
hearts she hath in governance ; with such, neither savour of
72 A COUNCIL OF THE REBELS AT ROCHESTER. [«0Jj5TS»
gain nor hope of security, neither persuasion of friendship ne
other enticement, can so much prevail as, for any respect, they
will digress from the right course of true service. Where
the contrary, wanting that perfection (to taste of Fortune's
corruptible members, whereafter they gape ; to obtain quiet
to the restive carcase, and lucre to themselves, the thing they
only seek), are easily drawn to run a clean contrary race.
The naughty [worthless] brood therefore of Counterfeits, of
all others not tolerable in a common weal, are specially to be
looked to in their beginning ; lest their evil example by long
sufferance grow to such a precedent at the last, that the
common saying " Good to sleep in a whole skin," being
espied to escape without danger of reprehension, be taken
for a policy ; and thereby outweigh the just peize [weight] of
bounden duty.
After this most unhappy chance, the traitors with their
consultatjon .new adjuncts fell to a great and solemn council
of the rebels that same night at Rochester for their .proceeding
of'the' white* ' in their pretensed \intended\ treason. In discourse
Coats- whereof proceeded such unfitting talk, as well
towards the Queen's Highness as her honourable Council,
tending to the alteration of the whole State, as abhorred the
ears of some of the self traitors ; that, understanding by
that talk the end of their purpose, whereof before they were
ignorant, wished themselves under the earth for being so
unhappy as to be so much as acquainted with so damnable
an enterprise. Such an opinion had they, as they deemed
very few Councillors, or Officers of authority or of Nobility,
within the realm worthy the places whereunto they were
called : and persuading great choice to be amongst them
selves for the supplying of that want, such overweening had
they of themselves and made so sure a reckoning of the
victory, as they disposed the honourable Offices of the Realm
among themselves.
WYAT thought himself now so sure of the victory as
seeing him that offered " to sell his spoons and all the plate
that he had rather than his purpose should quail, and sup his
pottage with his mouth " [p. 48], warranted him, That he
should eat his pottage with silver, as he did.
REBELS RELY ON THE LONDONERS. 73
England, when good counsel should stand it in most
available steed, needed no better counsellors than such as
they were, if they had half the wit they thought themselves
to have, coupled with grace and honesty. But what they
Tiad indeed, their acts declare plainly to their own confusion ;
as it hath always, and ever hereafter shall, to as many as be
•of like disposition.
One of them, that had some wit indeed, although he
wanted grace, perceiving by their talk in what fond [foolisli\
frenzy they were entered ; to interrupt them therein, he said,
That such matters were good to be treated of at further
opportunity : but for the present it were meet to devise upon
their next journey [expedition] ; and whether it should be
good policy in them, minding to march towards London, to
leave the Lord ABERGAVENNY and the Sheriff at liberty
•(that annoyed their friends, and by all likelihood would not
so cease as they may or dare) at their back, being left at
large.
One of them, taking upon him first to answer, thought
nothing more necessary than their sequestration : and if his
advice might have been heard in the beginning .
[of the Rebellion], the Sheriff should have been apprehendW
in hold, as I have heard, before anything should Shenff-
have been attempted.
But the Captains to the White Coats (meet counsellors for
such an enterprise ! ), having the spoil of London in their
•eyes, would not dispute that was past : but for the present
they persuaded clean contrary to the former opinion ; saying
That their going about the apprehension of the Sheriff
should be but a loss of time. " For London," said they,
" longed sore[ly] for their coming ; which they The mis-
could by no means protract without breeding th^rebSf °f
great peril and weakness to themselves." And upon London.
having London at their commandment, whereof they were
in no manner of doubt, if it were not lost by their sloth ;
their revenge to the Lord ABERGAVENNY, the Sheriff, with
others [of] their enemies, would easily follow.
WYAT, savouring full well their disposition, and under
standing their meaning by their arguments, and knowing
also that without his assenting thereto he could not long
have their company, yielded to their counsel.
74 WYAT REACHES GRAVESEND & DARTFORD. [
And so, being out of measure exalted into haughty-
courage and pride by the revolt of the White Coats, he
marched the day after, being Tuesday [3<Dth January 1554],
in great pomp and glory, carrying with him six pieces of
ordnance which they had gotten of the Queen's, besides their
own, to Cowling Castle, a hold of the Lord COBHAM'S, four
miles distant from Rochester ; and not much out of their
way towards London : where the Lord COBHAM was.
WYAT at his coming to Cowling Castle, bent his ordnance
, against the gate : and with great and sundry shots
The assault of & , - , P ',, , fe . J . . .
Cowling and fire brake and burned up a way through the
gate. The Lord COBHAM defended his Castle as.
stoutly as any man might do, having so few against so great
a number; and so little munition; [he] himself discharging
his gun at such as approached the gate right hardily. And
in that assault two of his own men were slain.
After this assault, and talk with the Lord COBHAM, WYAT
marched to Gravesend ; where he reposed that night.
From Gravesend, he and his Band marched, the Wednes-
WYAT-smarch- day next after fsist January 1554], to Dartford,
ing to Dart- * , l, p., , J . ..* *<***
ford. where he reposed that night.
Whither came Sir EDWARD HASTINGS, Master of the
The coming of Queen's Horse, and Sir THOMAS CORNWALLIS
lheHorsera°nd Knights, both of her Grace's honourable Privy
COR^WALLB Council, sent from the Queen to WYAT to under-
toWYA-r. stand the cause of his commotion ; and also, as it
was said, finding any repentant submission in him, to promise
pardon, or at the least great hope thereof.
WYAT, understanding [of] their coming and taking with
him certain of his Band, went to the west end of the town,
where he had planted his ordnance ; and at the [a]lighting
of Master HASTINGS and Sir THOMAS CORNWALLIS from
their horses, WYAT, having a partisan \Jialberd\ in his hand,
advanced himself somewhat afore such Gentlemen as were
Pride with him ; and, using but little reverence due from
a subject to [Privy] Councillors, traced near them.
To whom, the Master of the Horse spake in substance as
followeth :
" The Queen's Majesty requireth to understand the very
cause wherefore you have thus gathered together in arms her
DEMAND OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL. 75
liege people, which is the part of a traitor ; and yet, in your
Proclamations and persuasions, you call yourself a true sub
ject : which cannot stand together."
" I am no traitor," quod WYAT, " and the cause whereof I
have gathered the people is to defend the realm from our
overrunnning by Strangers ; which follows, this Marriage
taking place."
" Why," quod the Queen's Agents, " there be no Strangers
yet come whom either for power or number ye need to sus
pect. But if this be your only quarrel, because, ye mislike
the Marriage : will ye come to communication touching that
case ? and the Queen, of her gracious goodness, is content ye
shall be heard."
To whom WYAT shaped such answer as clearly might
declare his malicious intent and traitorous heart wvAT'sarro-
to the Queen's own person and royal estate. " I sant answer,
yield thereto," quod WYAT, " but for my surety I will rather
be trusted than trust. And therefore I demand the custody
of the Tower, and [of] her Grace in the Tower ; the dis
placing of certain Councillors, and placing others in their
rooms as to me shall seem best."
Upon this lewd answer, long and stout conference was
between them : insomuch that the Master of the Horse said
unto him, with a stout courage, " WYAT, before thou shalt
have that thy traitorous demand granted, thou shalt die and
20,000 with thee ! "
Shortly after, the Master of the Horse with Master CORN-
WALLIS, finding him an arrant traitor and desperately set to
all mischief, returned to the Queen's Majesty.
The common people being with him, and calling to their
remembrance how WYAT, in all appearance, made his
whole matter of stir for Strangers, and no ways against the
Queen ; and perceiving how unreverently he used himself as
well to the Queen's Herald at Rochester as to the Privy
Councillors] at Dartford ; and considering within them
selves also that he would suffer none of the Queen's Pro
clamations to be read among them : their hearts began to
rise against him. And among themselves sundry of them
much murmured, wishing with the loss of all they had they
had never been acquainted with WYAT nor his doings ; and
indeed sought as many ways as they could to be rid of him
76 THE NOBLES' SUIT & THE QUEEN'S REPLY. [IOJj£°S
Which perceived by WYAT and his mates, they devised a
A crafty bruit [rumour] to be sounded in his Band, that the
policy. Lord ABERGAVENNY and the Sheriff did cause to
be hanged as many as they could take, coming from WYAT'S
Band : wherewith the people, standing in a great maze what
to do, were wonderfully perplexed.
The Queen understanding by the Master of the Horse and
.Sir THOMAS CORNWALLIS the arrogancy of WYAT, and not
withstanding that she perceived her merciful inclination
rather to provoke him than otherwise : yet seemed she
nothing willing, even then, by violence and force, as she
easily might, to suppress him : but yet a longer time to
suffer and abide, if by delay and mercy her enemy might be
won to reconciliation.
The Nobility (which were at that time with her Grace,
N^bies'tothe6 Perceivmg such surmounting mercy rather to
Queen. increase than any ways to abate courage and
malice in the insolent and proud heart of the traitors ;
and further understanding that the traitors deemed the
contation or forbearing to proceed rather of debility or fear
than of mercy and clemency) counselled with her Grace that,
with her gracious leave and licence, they might set upon him
and his Band before he should pass Blackheath : declaring
that to suffer such an arrogant traitor, being but a mean
member, to approach thus contemptuously so near her royal
person, as it v/ere in defiance of her Grace and her true
subjects, should greatly redound to their dishonours in the
opinion of all faithful men throughout the world.
The Queen gave them all most hearty and loving thanks
Thw?uee"he savmg That she nothing doubted of their true hearts
Nobles. ° towards her : yet was she loth to make any proof
or trial thereof in such quarrel as should be with loss of blood.
" For to repress them with violence, and subdue them by the
sword could not have so happy success but many of my
poor subjects" quod she, "should dearly bye \abide\ it with the
loss of their lives." Wherefore she determined to suffer as
long as she might ; and to forbear that practice till there
were no other hope ne remedy. For albeit in the capital
traitors there could be but great default : yet in the multitude
she was persuaded to be no malice, but only misled by thei
iojjan!°icsss3 TliE QUEEN'S SPEECH AT THE GUILD HALL. 77
Captains ; and rather seduced by ignorance than upon any
evil purpose meant to her Grace. Wherefore she desired
them to be contented : for she was fully determined to con
tinue her merciful sufferance and other her gentle means so
long as she might ; and [to] vanquish her enemies without
the sword, if any sparkle of obedience or natural zeal remain
in their hearts. Notwithstanding, she required them to-
prepare and retain their force in a readiness, if their \the-
rebels'] stony hearts should drive her to use extremity.
But her Highness doubting [fearing] that London, being
her Chamber and a city holden of dear price in her princely
heart, might, by WYAT and such ruffens {ruffians} as were
with him, be in danger of spoil, to the utter ruin of the
same : her Highness therefore, as a most tender and loving
Governess, went the same day [3ist January 1554] in her
royal person to the Guild Hall to foresee those perils.
Where, among other matter proceeding from her incom
parable wisdom, her Grace declared how she had The Queen's
sent that day two of her Privy Council to the g^i",1/16
traitor WYAT : desirous rather to quiet their tumult in London.
by mercy than by the justice of the sword to vanquish :
whose most godly heart fraight[ed] with all mercy and
clemency, abhorred from all effusion of blood.
Her Highness also there shewed the insolent and proud
answer returned from WYAT : whereat the faithful citizens
were much offended ; and in plain terms defied him as a
most rank traitor, with all his conjurates.
And touching the Marriage, her Highness affirmed that
nothing was done herein by herself alone, but with consent
and advisement of the whole Council, upon deliberate con
sultation, that this conjunction and Second Marriage should
greatly advance this realm (whereunto she was first married)
to much honour, quiet, and gain.
" For," quod her Grace, " I am already married to this
Common Weal and the faithful members of the same ; the
spousal ring whereof I have on my finger : which never
hitherto was, nor hereafter shall be, left off. Protesting unto
you nothing to be more acceptable to my heart, nor more
answerable to my will, than your advancement in wealth and
welfare, with the furtherance of GOD's glory." And to
declare her tender and princely heart towards them, she
78 WYAT AND 4,000 MEN REACH DEPTFORD. [»JjJSTSJ-
promised constantly not to depart from them, although by
her Council she had been much moved to the contrary : but
would remain near and prest to adventure the spense
\shedding\ of her royal blood in defence of them.
Such matter passed from her besides as did so wonder
fully enamour the hearts of the hearers as it was a world to
hear with what shouts they exalted the honour and
magnanimity of Queen MARY.
This done her Grace returned towards Whitehall, and
passing through the streets, being full of people pressing to
behold her Grace wherein they had singular delight and
pleasure, one amongst all, most impudent of all others,
Amaiepen stepped forward saying, "Your Grace may do
Artificer. wen to make your Foreward [ Vanguard} in battle,
of your Bishops and Priests : for they be trusty, and will not
deceive you ! "
For which words, he was commanded to Newgate : who
deserved to be hanged at the next bough, for example to all
others, so impudently and arrogantly to assault his Sovereign
and Queen with such seditious and traitorous language. The
voice went that he was a Hosier. Out of all doubt, he was
a traitor and a heretic ; whose heart was wholly in WYAT'S
bosom, although his body were absent. For it was not
possible any faithful subject, or true Christian, to utter such
shameless speech to his liege Lady and Princess as he did
then. But such is the fruit of heresy, Contempt of GOD
and man ; as by daily experience is seen.
The Thursday next after [ist February 1554], WYAT hav-
WYAT'S ing fourteen Ensigns in his Band and not past four
oxford to thousand men, although they were accounted of a
strand. far greater number, marched to Deptford strand,
eight miles from Dartford and within four miles of London.
Where, upon such advertisement as he received by espial of
the Queen's being in the Guild Hall and the order of the
people to her, he remained that night and the next whole
day : divers of his own company doubting [suspecting] by his
longer tarrying there than he did in other places, with other
presumptions, that he would have passed the water \i.e. the
Thames} into Essex.
His prisoners, as Master CHRISTOPHER ROPER, GEORGE
,0Jjan!:0iCs5srG WvAT ARRIVES AT LONDON BRIDGE. 79
DORREL of Calehill [and] JOHN TUCKE Esquires, who were
kept very straitly, being sickly and having within The departure
the town no convenient harborough or attendance, of Master
,. j i \TCT,T • r CHRISTOPHER
were licensed by WYAT, upon promise of ROPER and
their worship to be true prisoners, to provide for DORREL from
themselves out from the town, where they best WYAT-
might. But they, thinking no part of their worship stained
in breaking promise with a traitor, sought ways to escape ;
and came no more at him.
On the Saturday following [3rd February 1554], very
early, WYAT marched to Southwark : where ,
approaching the Gate at London Bridge foot, [he] marching to
called for the opening of the same; which he. Southwark-
found not so ready as he looked for.
After he had been a little while in Southwark, divers of
the soldiers went to Winchester Place \the town residence of
.the Bishop of WINCHESTER]. Where one of them, being a
Gentleman, began to shew his game before all the cards were
full[y] dealed ; I mean, to rifle and spoil : which indeed was the
determinate end of their purpose ; but the time was not yet
<:ome, nor they come to the place, where they should begin it.
Whereunto WYAT, having further respect than the young
Gentleman had, shewed himself, with stern and fiery visage,
so much to be offended with his doings that he made divers
believe that he would have hanged him upon the wharf.
Which whereof it grew, either of hatred to the evil, or of
policy to purchase credit for a further mischief, as well the
nature and course of rebellion, as also WYAT'S own words,
may easily let us understand.
Who, the Monday [22nd January 1554] next afore this
stir, devising with two of his friends for the execution of his
pretensed [intended] purpose ; one of them at length said
unto him, " I have no doubt but you shall be able to assemble
a great force : but how you shall be able to continue the
same with you, having not sufficient treasure and money,
the only bait wherewith the multitude is holden, I stand
much in doubt."
" What then ? " quod WYAT.
" Marry," said the other, " methinketh a good way for your
provision thereof, after your force is once gathered, that ye
So WYAT RECKONS ON THE SPOIL OF LONDON. [IOJj
Proctor,
art. 1555..
apprehend [Sir JOHN CHEYNEY] the Lord Warden, the
Lord ABERGAVENNY, Sir ROBERT SOUTHWELL, Sir THOMAS
MOYLE, with others ; of whose hearts and affections towards
you and your case you stand in doubt : whereby ye shall not
only have them in safety which are most like[ly] within the
Shire to withstand your enterprise ; but also provide you
both treasure and money, which they want not, for the relief
of your Band."
" Ah," quod WYAT, " is this the best counsel ye can give ?
If we pretend to keep out Strangers, and begin our quarrel
with the spoil of our own country [County] men ; what will
the whole realm, trow ye, then deem of us ? Nay, your advice
is naught ; and your way, the next way to accelerate our
confusion. For if we will go forwards in our matter and
make the best of it to our purpose, Spoil and Tyranny may
not be our guides. We must, by all means, devise, and all
little enough, to continue good opinion in the heads of the
multitude of some plausible [praiseworthy] end to succeed by
our stir : otherwise we undo ourselves. For perceiving at
our entry that our minds run of spoil : who will not rather
resist us, and abide the adventure of that whereof we bear
them in hand ; than to be in certain to be spoiled by us ?
And I see no cause why you should doubt of money ; seeing
ye know that such Gentlemen as are confedered with us,
keeping appointment ; their soldiers shall come ready
furnished to bear their own charges for nine days : and our
hap shall be very hard if we be not at London shortly after
we stir ; and that with so great a company as shall be out of
danger to be stopped by any of the Shire upon such a sudden,
or letted [hindered] of entry into London finding half the
friends there as we think to have. And being once in
WVAT'S London, and having the Tower in our hands ; I
reckoning of trust you think we shall not lack money long after,
the spoil of the .f J , , , , '. . . ° ,'
Tower and if any be to be had there, or in the Aldermen s.,
London- coffers."
To that said another, that had spoken as yet never a word,
" I know Commoners in London that have more ready money
than some of the Aldermen."
" Soft," quod WYAT, " I pray you in any wise forbear all
such talk till we come to the place where we would be. In
mean time let us work secretly ; and by all tokens and signs
LoRD W. HOWARD DEFENDS LONDON. 8 1
shew ourselves to favour and maintain our pretence of
Strangers only."
Such and the like communication was betweeen WYAT
and two others the Monday [22nd January] before his
rising. Whereby it is evident that their final intent was
to advance themselves by spoil of other men's goods :
although they pretended otherwise.
And to colour [make pretence of\ the same, WYAT so fell
out with this Gentleman for rifling the Lord Chancellor's
House \i.e., the House in Southwark of STEPHEN GARDINER,
Bishop of WINCHESTER,'] that he made a number believe he
would have hanged him out of hand : had not BRET and
others entreated for him.
When they had Hen in Southwark a day or two, and
found themselves deceived in London : which (by TheLord
the great diligence and politic handling of that WILLIAM
worthy and faithful Knight, the Lord WILLIAM A&afajdof
HOWARD, Admiral of England, that had the Ensland-
special charge thereof ; with the aid of Sir THOMAS WIGHT,
Knight, Mayor of London, his brethren [the Aldermen] and
citizens) was so well preserved as the traitors thereby
were disappointed of that they looked most certainly for —
WYAT, as a man desperate and setting all at sixe[s] and
seven, adventuring the breaking down of a wall out of a
house joining to the Gate at the Bridge foot, WYATS com-
whereby he might enter into the leads over the pater's Lodge
Gate, came down into the Lodge about eleven f*0t£eBrid§e
of the clock in the night : where he found the
Porter in a slumber ; [and] his wife with others Care away,
waking, watching a coal.
But seeing WYAT, they began suddenly to start jas
greatly amazed.
" Whist ! " quod WYAT, " as you love your lives, sit you
still ! You shall have no hurt ! "
Glad were they of that warranty, pardye ! What should
they do, people better accustomed with the tankard of beer
to pass forth the night, than acquainted with target and
3pear to endure the fight.
WYAT and a few with him went forth as far as the
Drawbridge [in the middle of London Bridge] : on the
ENG. GAR. VIII. 6
82 WYAT'S NIGHT VISIT TO LONDON BRIDGE. [Ji*roc?r.-
|_io Jan. 1-333.
further side whereof he saw the Lord Admiral, the Lord
Mayor, Sir ANDREW JUDD, and one or two others in con
sultation for ordering of the Bridge : whereunto he gave
diligent ear a good time, and [was] not seen. At length
[he] conceived by their talk more than he could digest ;
and, perceiving the great ordnance there bent, returned,
saying to his mates, " This place is too hot for us."
And when he was come to his colleges \colleagues\ and
declared upon his exploit what he had heard and seen ;
they then all together fell to a new council what was to be done.
Some would then return to Greenwich, and so pass the
The rebels at water into Essex (whereby their company as they
their wits1 thought should increase), and enter into London
by Aid Gate.
And some would to Kingston-upon-Thames, and so
further west[ward].
And some, of the which WYAT himself was chief, would
return into Kent to meet with the Lord ABERGAVENNY,
the Sheriff, Sir THOMAS MOYLE, Sir THOMAS KEMP, Sir
THOMAS FINCH, that were at Rochester, coming on WYAT'S
back with a great company well appointed : falsely per
suading himself that he should find among them more
friends than enemies. But whether his desire to return into
Kent grew upon hope he had to find aid there ; or whether
it was to shift himself away ; it was much doubted of his
own company. And some of them that knew him well,
except they were much deceived, reported not long before
their execution, that his desire to retire into Kent was only
to shift himself over the sea.
The Lord Warden [Sir JOHN CHEYNEY] being now
The Lord come to Rochester, as ye heard, and very honour-
warden-sbeing ably furnished with horse and men well appointed,
towards** ' to no small number, entering into consultation
WYAT- with such Gentlemen as were there, for the
better proceeding in their service, shewed a great desire
to accelerate the onset upon the traitors : lest malice
should impute both his former and present stay rather to
want of forwardness than to good policy. Wherefore he
desired to pursue after them with all expedition.
wjan^S] THE QUEEN'S FORCES AT ROCHESTER. 83
Whereunto the Gentlemen, being then in arms with him,
said, " As for your Lordship's contation [delay] hitherto,
it shall be weighed not as fools by fancy and malice deem ;
but as wise men shall measure it by their discretion of
wisdom. We see not but unadvised hardiness {rashness}
and preproperous [? preposterous] haste in most matters
have these two companions : Error in the beginning, and
Repentance in the end. And for this our case, whoso
understandeth the same cannot but confess your Lordship's
deliberate forbearing to have proceeded of great wisdom,
as wherein haste could little prevail. And whereas your
Lordship is so desirous to pursue after WYAT and his
Band, you see how they have lien in Southwark and within
four miles of London these four days [Thursday ist, to
Sunday 4th February 1 5 54] ; and yet not meddled with by
the Queen's army, being so near : which is neither for want
of men, nor of forwardness in that noble Gen- xheEariof
tleman, the Earl of PEMBROKE, the Queen's fh™°eK£
Lieutenant ; but upon great policy and further Lieutenant,
respect no doubt than we seem to conceive.
" Wherefore your Lordship may do better to pause,
and first to advertise the Queen's Majesty and the Lord
Lieutenant [the Earl of PEMBROKE] both what your Lord
ship, upon grave and deep consideration, hath conceived in
this doubtful time, and also in what readiness your Lordship
is, and other Gentlemen with you : whose pleasures known,
we may then happily proceed in service ; both with good
contentation to them above [us], and best surety for our
selves. Otherwise if fortune should not favour our journey
[expedition], there may be thought in us more impotent
will to haste than provident policy to speed. And danger
hereby can none follow, our enemies lying between her
Grace's army and us : considering withal that London
is so well furnished, and so willing to resist their entry."
Whereupon the Lord Warden went in post to the Queen ;
leaving the Lord ABERGAVENNY and the rest of the
Gentlemen with his and their Bands until his return : which
was very shortly after. [See Vol. IV. p. 92.]
Who, according to his first purpose, with the rest of
the Gentlemen, marched forth towards WYAT. Which who
had seen so well appointed, and with what willing hearts
84 THE ADVICE OF THE REBELS TO WYAT. [io^fJ?S£
they went ; and had known withal the faithful dealing of
sundry Gentlemen besides in other parts of the Shire, ought
to say, That notwithstanding there were many evil ; yet were
there many worthy, Gentlemen and honest faithful yeomen
in Kent, free from WYAT'S conspiracy : and that the same
[would] receive some injury at his hand that, taking upon
him to set forth any Chronicle, should name only four
Gentlemen of this Shire to be workers against WYAT.
For though every man pursued him not in the beginning,
many of them dwelling far from him : yet were they as
well occupied where they were, and as much towards
WYAT'S confusion, by staying and withholding [a] great
force, through their earnest persuasions and labour, that
else would have been with WYAT.
Now to return to WYAT : whom in this meantime BRET
and the other Captains espying to have a desire to be gone,
dissembling the knowledge thereof, [they] wrought all the
secret means they could devise to stay his going ; as
having the weight of their lives depending upon this enter
prise as well as he.
One of them, by agreement in their consultation, said
to him : " You see," quod he, " with what difficulty you
keep your soldiers here : notwithstanding they be in a
town where they are in a manner as pent in, and thereby
the more uneasy to get away ; being so narrowly looked to.
And now if you shall leave the town and retire into Kent,
as some of your company suspect you will, whereby they
and all others shall judge you to be in despair of the aid
of London ; the hope whereof hath been hitherto the
greatest occasion of stay of such as be already here, and
the comfort for the coming of others to the increase of
your power : you may assure yourself that such as be
here will not tarry long after with you, finding time to
escape as they shall easily enough, being at large ; nor
such as be absent will have haste to repair unto you, when
they shall perceive you to be in despair of London. And
so you shall weaken yourself, to the comfort of your enemies
and discomfort of your friends."
BRET, under colour [pretence} of singular affection to-
WYAT, devising an apt occasion to avoid suspicion (which
WHITE COATS WILL BE OUR RUIN !" 85
wanted not among them), required to speak with him
apart ; and having him alone, said :
" It shall not be amiss that, for your own surety, you have
in remembrance the effect of the several Proclama- BRET'S words
tions made at Dartford : the one by Master WlL- to WYAT-
LIAM ROPER, wherein you were betraitored ; the other by
Master APPULTON, which, as I hear, was also made at London
and in other parts of the realm, wherein is promised the
inheritance of One Hundred Pounds [in] land to such as
-can apprehend and present you to the Queen.
" Now what fantasies may grow into the heads of your
own fellows, for the safeguard of themselves ; of whom you
have had already some experience, it is to be doubted : or
what may grow in the heads of your soldiers when, failing
of the aid of London, they shall be in despair of your
enterprise, it is also to be doubted. On the other part,
when such of Kent, on whom it seemeth you repose some
trust, shall hear of your retire : their disposition perhaps
will be much changed. And therefore it standeth you in
hand to look to the matter substantially."
WYAT (having the same confidence in BRET, that BRET
would WYAT to have had in others ; remem- Trustless
bering his most deceitful treason to the Queen, traitors!
contrary to the trust reposed in him for the conduct of the
White Coats ; and feeling his grief doubled, and his desire
to convey himself away so much the more increased, by
BRET'S secret talk with him) ; as a stricken deer, wandereth
aside, all alone complaining with himself [of] his most
unhappy fate.
And soon after calling THOMAS ISLEY unto him, said,
""Ah, cousin ISLEY, in what extreme misery are we?
The revolt of these Captains with the White Coats seemed
a benefit in the beginning ; and 'as a thing sent by GOD
for our good, and to comfort us forward in our enterprise :
which I now feel to our confusion. Ah, cousin, this it is
to enter such a quarrel, which notwithstanding we now see
must have a ruthful end ; yet of necessity we must prosecute
the same."
WYAT as desperate (finding others to accord with BRET'S
opinion, upon his conference with them : by whom for
direction of his traitorous journey [expedition] he was chiefly
86 WYAT'S FORCE CROSSES KINGSTON BRIDGE. [Ji*10^-
555-
advised ; although for this shifting away there were others
whom he better trusted) marched, the Tuesday being Shrove
WYAT-S Tuesday [6th February 1554], out of South wark to
Kfn°ston *° Kingston upon Thames, ten miles distant ; where
they arrived about four of the clock in the after
noon.
And finding thirty feet or thereabouts of the bridge taken
away, saving the posts that were left standing ; WYAT prac
ticed \bargainec£\ with two mariners to swim over to convey
a barge unto him. Which the mariners, tempted with great
promises of preferment, did. Wherein WYAT and certain
WYAT'S w^k ^m were conveyed over: who, in the time
passage at that the number of the soldiers baited [lunched] in
the town, caused the bridge to be trimmed with
ladders planks and beams, the same tied together with ropes,
and boards as, by ten of the clock in the night, [it] was in-
such plight that both his ordnance and Band of men might
pass over without peril.
And so, about eleven of the clock in the same night, WYAT
with his Band, without either resistance or peril, marched
over the bridge towards London ; having such a loving heart
in his body to the Queen as before day he meant to have
been at the Court Gate [of Whitehall]. Which he could
never have attempted, having any sparkle of that good zeal,
in his breast to the Queen's surety as, to further his treason,
he outwardly pretended to the World ; considering the
danger that might have grown, by the fear thereof, to her
Grace.
But, as GOD would, partly by weariness of his soldiers,
and partly by the breach [break down'} of the wheels that
carried his ordnance ; it was nine of the clock of the day
following, being Ash Wednesday [/th February 1554], before
he came so far as Hyde Park : where his courage, being
tofore as ye have heard not very lusty, began now utterly to
die ; beholding as it were before his face the present bane
and confusion whereunto his malicious intent was shaped.
Yet desperation being his lewd guide, he marcheth for
ward ; and cometh within the power of Sir WILLIAM
HERBERT, Earl of PEMBROKE ; being, that day, the Queen's
Lieutenant General in the field. Who yet (with divers other
Noblemen and faithful subjects, being then in arms with him
i/j£°S] THE ACTION AT HYDE PARK CORNER. &7
prest and ready to receive so impudent a race of traitorous
rebels to their deserved breakfast) understanding, partly by
sure spial, partly by their own view, that the rebels exceeded
not the number of four thousand, and most of them naked
[unarmed'], void of all policy and skill ; considering withal
that they could not set upon WYAT and his whole Band but
great effusion of blood should follow, the Queen's army
being so greedy to be revenged and the other so impotent to
resist, determined rather by policy to achieve the victory
than by bloodshed to confound the rebels. Wherein they
.should please GOD, answer the Queen's merciful expecta
tion, and purchase unto themselves most renown and honour
of that day's service.
Upon these resolutions, they permitted WYAT with the
fore part of his Band to pass quietly along ; and through
between the Queen's Majesty's Horsemen : the Lord
CLINTON being Marshal of the Field and Captain of the
barbed horses and Demi-lances on the south side ; JACK of
MUSGRAVE being Captain of the Light Horsemen on the
north side. The great ordnance being charged to shoot full
upon the breast of the rebels coming eastward : the Earl of
PEMBROKE with the Main Battle of footmen as well for
handguns, morishpikes, bows, and bills, standing in goodly
array on the north-east side, behind the said great ordnance,
ready to set upon the rebels in the face coming towards
Holborn.
WYAT, coming in the forefront of his Band, perceiving that
he was thus beset with horsemen on both sides, the great
ordnance and the footmen before his face north-eastward ; so
that he could no ways escape, but necessarily must fall into
their hands, although for policy he was suffered and a great
part of his men to pass so far quietly and without resistance
through the Horsemen — he suddenly forsook his way
intended through Holborn ; and, with might and main, as
fast as they could, he and his mates ran down underneath the
Park Wall of brick adjoining to the Queen's Manor House,
called St. James's.
The Lord CLINTON, observing his time ; first with his
Demi-lances brake their array, and divided WYAT'S Band in
two parts. Then came the Light Horsemen, who so hardly
88 WYAT SURRENDERS AT TEMPLE BAR. [.ASTSE
pursued the tail of his Band, that they slew many, hurt more,
and took most of them.
Whilst the said Horsemen were thus in fight with the tail
of his Band ; WYAT himself and 500 men or thereabouts
peked \_pushed\ on still all along under St. James's Park Wall
until he came to Charing Cross : where divers of the Queen's
Household servants and others fought with them, and in the
end killed 16 of the rebels.
Nevertheless WYAT, having escaped with a part of his
company, marching along in battle [arjray, entered into
Fleet street, and came over Fleet Bridge towards Lud Gate.
And although no man resisted his passage through the
streets thus far: yet, when at length he perceived that he
had no help of friends at London and the suburbs as he
looked for, [he] left his men standing still in battle array ;
and rode back as far as the Temple Bar Gate, with a
naked \drawri\ sword in his hands the hilts upward, as some
report.
At which Gate, he would have gone through towards
Charing Cross, to the residue of his men : but he was then
stopped by force, of the Queen's true subjects ; who would
not suffer him to pass without Temple Bar.
At length came one Sir MAURICE BERKELEY Knight unto
him, and required him to consider that he could not prevail
in this wicked purpose ; and that his men were all taken and
slain in the Field : and therefore willed him to cease off
from any further occasion of bloodshed ; exhorting him to
yield himself prisoner, and to stand to the Queen's mercy.
Which to do, WYAT refused ; and said That he would
rather be slain than yield to any man.
And yet, nevertheless, as it chanced, there came a Herald
of Arms immediately, riding in the Queen's Coat Armour to
this place : to his Coat shortly after WYAT submitted him
self prisoner ; and so went to the Court at Westminster, and
there was brought before the Privy Council ; and shortly
after, within one hour, sent from thence to the Tower of
London [a] prisoner.
Amongst other things this is to be remembered, that
whiles the said WYAT and certain of his men, as aforesaid,
] THE FRIGHT AT WHITEHALL PALACE. 89
were coming thus towards Fleet street ; a certain Captain of
the said rebels, with divers of his soldiers, returned from
Charing Cross down to the Court Gate at Whitehall, and
gave a larum [an alarm] before the Gate : and shot divers
arrows into the said Court, the Gate being open. Insomuch
that one Master NICHOLAS ROCKEWOOD, being a Gentleman
of Lincoln's Inn and in armour at the said Court Gate, was
shot through his nose with an arrow by the rebels. [See
EDWARD UNDERHILLS account qj this fright at Vol. IV.,
p. 92.]
For the coming of the said rebels was not looked for that
way : but [it was] thought that the Queen's army should
have joined battle with them in the Field ; according to
promise made by the said WYAT on his behalf: who pro
mised that he would come to the Queen's Foot Battle
[Infantry], and fight with them pike against pike and man
to man. Which, when it came to the very point, he
refused ; and shrank [by] a bye way by Saint James's Park
Wall for his refuge, as you have heard before : where many
of them were slain by Horsemen, so that they came not nigh
the Queen's power of the Foot Battle. Which increased
some desperate boldness in the despairing rebels : not
without great discomfiture to all the Court and the city
of London ; perceiving that he was himself, and so many
rebels with him, come through the Queen's army thus
far.
Whereupon grew great admiration [wonderment] amongst
them that knew not their doings in the Field : how for policy,
and to avoid much manslaughter, WYAT was suffered pur
posely to pass along. Insomuch divers timorous and cold
hearted soldiers came to the Queen, crying, " All is lost !
Away ! Away ! A barge ! A barge ! "
Yet her Grace never changed her cheer, nor removed
-one foot out of the House: but asked for the Lord of
PEMBROKE, in whom her Grace had worthily reposed great
confidence.
Answer being made, That he was in the Field.
"Well then," quod her Grace, "fall to prayer! and I
warrant you, we shall hear better news anon. For my Lord
will not deceive me, I know well. If he would, GOD will
not : in whom my chief trust is, who will not deceive me."
90 How LONDON WAS SHUT IN, AND KEPT, [^ja^T^;
And indeed, shortly after, news came all of victory, [andj
how that WYAT was taken.
This day [7th February 1554], the Judges in the Common
Place [Common Pleas'} at Westminster sat in armour. The
Mayor, Aldermen, and the householders of the city, by four
of the clock in the morning, were in armour : the Lord
WILLIAM HOWARD, High Admiral, being amongst them.
Who, as I have tofore said, was by the Queen's Majesty
appointed Captain General and Lieutentant for the time,
to confer in counsel and join in execution with the Lord
Mayor and his Brethren [the Aldermen] for the sure
and speedy guarding and warding of the city : to the
preservation whereof the Queen's Grace had special regard.
The Gates were diligently watched ; every Gate with 100
men : Moor Gate being closed up and rampired.
Thus was this wily heretic and open traitor WYAT, and
his complices, brought to their confusion ; and to the end
which never missed all such malicious[ly] disposed wretches.
Partly by the wisdom and policy of him that was armed in
the Field, the worthy Earl of PEMBROKE ; but chiefly by the
mighty hand of GOD, at the contemplation of her high
merits and virtues ; who remaining in the closet of stedfast
hope and confidence, being appointed with the armour of
faith, fought with ardent and continual prayer, in perfect
devotion, under the banner and ensign of GOD : who indeed
alone gave this victory, and alone without policy or might of
man overthrew her enemies ; yet so that he therewith
declared his special favour and pleasure towards his servant,
that noble Knight, the Earl of PEMBROKE, in appointing him
chief champion this day to defend his chosen and elect
Virgin ; whose faith hath not been wavering in his Catholic,
religion nor his truth and service doubtful at any time
towards his Prince.
WYAT, as is said, was committed to the Tower. So were
divers other Gentlemen : as, soon after, was HENRY GREY
Duke of SUFFOLK and his two brethren.
The Duke, being so hardly pursued by the Lord
lo^a^S] THE EXECUTION OF WYAT'S ACCOMPLICES. QI
HASTINGS, Earl of HUNTINGDON, was by him appre
hended in Leicestershire. Whereby he declared „
..... 11-1 lit The Duke of
himself, as well in honour and unspotted loyalty SUFFOLK'S
as in parentage and patrimony, to succeed his great bypthe Ear°of
grandfather the Lord HASTINGS ; whose fidelity HASTINGS-
and stedfast truth towards King EDWARD IV. and his
children, the Chronicles report to his immortal honour.
Of the common people there was such a number taken in
the chase by the Earl of PEMBROKE that besides the usual
gaols, sundry churches in London were made places for their
safeguard, till order was taken for their enlargement.
The Duke [of SUFFOLK] was arraigned by his Peers, and
by verdict found guilty of Treason, before the Duke of
NORFOLK, being Lord Constable, and that day his Judge.
Both he, and his brother THOMAS, at several days, made
their end at Tower Hill, by loss of their heads.
Sundry others of WYAT'S complices, being arraigned, and
condemned upon their confession of treason, suffered in
divers parts of the Shire, as :
HENRY ISLEY Knight, THOMAS ISLEY his brother, and
WALTER MANTEL, at Maidstone ; where WYAT first
displayed his standard.
ANTHONY KNEVET, WILLIAM his brother, with another
of the MANTELS, at Sevenoaks.
BRET, at Rochester, hanging in chains.
And of the common sort very few were executed, save
only of the White Coats ; that, to say truth, deserved it
trebly.
WYAT himself, last of all, was arraigned at Westminster ;
the Earl of SUSSEX, Sir EDWARD HASTINGS, and Sir
THOMAS CORNWALLIS being his Judges : where and before
whom, he most earnestly craved life ; not by plea of his
matter or justifying of himself, but by earnest suit, in
humble submission, for the Queen's mercy.
It seemeth not amiss here to make report of such special
words as by him were uttered at his arraignment: WYAT'S words
• i T 1 1- i • r c at his arraign-
wnich I myself heard, standing not ten teet trom ment.
92 WYAT'S WORDS AT HIS ARRAIGNMENT. \_
him at that time. By the which words may appear
both what he himself thought of his doings, how much
he misliked the same, and also how penitent and sorrowful
he was therefor.
Certain words proceeding from WYAT,
at his arraignment.
|Y Lords, I must confess myself guilty ; as, in
the end, truth must enforce me to say: and
that I am justly plagued for my sins, which
most grievously I have committed against GOD ;
who hath suffered me to fall into this beastly
brutishness and horrible offence of treason. And lo, in
me the like end ; as all such that have attempted like
enterprizes, from the beginning have had. For peruse
the Chronicles throughout, and you shall find that rebellion
never from the beginning prospered. For the love of GOD,
all you Gentlemen that be here present remember ! and
be here taught by the examples past, and also by this
my present infelicity and heinous offence !
"O most miserable, mischievous, brutish, and beastly
furious imagination of mine! For I thought that by the
marriage of the Prince of Spain, this realm should have been
in danger : and that I, that have lived a free born man,
should, with my country, have been brought to bondage and
servitude by aliens and Strangers. Which brutish beastli
ness then seemed reason ; and wrought so far and to such
effect as it led me to the practice and use of this committed
treason : that now understanding the great commodity
honour and surety which this realm shall receive by this
marriage ; if it shall please the Queen to be merciful to me
there is no man living that shall be more trusty and faithful
to serve her Grace ; no, nor more ready to die at her
Highness's foot, whatsoever the quarrel be."
Thus far touching WYAT'S words at his arraignment,
I thought not superfluous here to report, to the end that all
others blindly fallen into the same error, would by the
WYAT is BEHEADED ON TOWER HILL. 93
example of WYAT rise also to repentance ; as well confessing
to the World with open voice their detestable mischief, as.
also from the very heart with tears detesting the same ; as, in
utterance of the former words, he plentifully did.
He lost his head at Tower Hill ; and his body, divided,
was set up in divers parts about London.
Other poor men, being taken in WYAT'S Band, and kept a
time in divers churches and prisons without the Of such as did
city [of London], kneeling all, with halters about penance by
their necks, before the Queen's Highness at haftersgbefore
Whitehall ; her Grace mercifully pardoned, to the "* Queen'
number of 600 : who immediatey thereupon, with great
shouts, casting their halters up into the air, cried " GOD
save your Grace ! GOD save your Grace ! "
Howbeit sundry of them that did wear halters afore the
Queen's Highness were afterwards, by means, called before
the Justices in the country to be arraigned : but her Grace,
being moved thereof by the Sheriff, would them to be no
further vexed.
Thus have ye heard of WYAT'S end, and [of] some of his
complices : by whose lamentable tragedy, and others of like
sort that happened in our Age, not only we, but such as
shall succeed us, may be abundantly taught to foresee what
it is to enter into rebellion. For neither could WYAT with
his stoutness, nor yet with the pretence of his quarrel
coloured with a meaning to defend his country from over
running by Strangers, nor yet through the aid of sundry
conspirators of great power, ne by any other policy, prevail.
Six of the Gentlemen that were offenders were pardoned,
going to their execution, by the Queen's clemency, at
Rochester : as were also all the others of the whole Kentish
Gentlemen remitted ; a few of the rankest excepted, that,
only for example, suffered.
The Queen's Highness, not long after, sent out her
Commission to Sir THOMAS MOYLE, Sir JOHN GuiLDFORD,.
94 THE QUEEN'S COMMISSION FOR KENT. [,6Jj£*jJ3:
Sir THOMAS KEMP; WARRAM SENTLEGER, THOMAS
ROYDON, CHRISTOPHER ROPER, GEORGE DORRELL of
Calehill, GEORGE FANE, JOHN TUCKE, JOHN ROBARTS,
THOMAS LOVELACE, JOHN LEONARD, Esquires ; with others :
not only to bail and set at large such as were in prison in the
country [County of Kent] for that offence, being of no small
number ; but also to compound [fine] with the offenders,
according to the quality of their offences. Which manner of
order, being not heard of in the like case, or at the least very
rarely, declared a singular clemency and benignity in the
Queen: that, being followed so cruelly, would yet be so
moved with pity as to vouchsafe to answer them with so
much lenity, in the executing of so few, in comparison
to so great a number and so large a cause ; being all in her
Grace's mercy to dispose at her pleasure. And besides [to]
suffer the rest to escape with so small abashment of their
countenance [small amount of fine] after so heinous [an]
offence.
He that shall peruse this Story diligently, and consider
all parts thereof exactly, with remembrance of things past
since the beginning of the Queen's most happy reign, must
of force recognize, of what condition soever he be, the
magnificence mercy and fortitude of this most noble Princess,
as from time to time with such patience to endure so great
malice of her own subjects, with such lenity to forbear the
revenge of so intolerable outrage, with such mercy in the
end to pardon and remit so heinous and great offenders.
Happy was it with those heinous offenders that her Grace's
most worthy and honourable Council were so agreeable to
her virtuous inclination ! as inclined rather to pursue
merciful pardon for continuance of life than to prosecute
revenge by execution of death.
It is to be wished by all good men with one assent that,
provoked with so great clemency, these degenerates reform
themselves ! and forbear thus to attempt so gracious a
Princess ! unto whom, by GOD'S authority, the sword is not
vainly committed ; lest thereby they procure to themselves
damnation in seeking by such outrage their own death and
confusion. From the desire whereof we see, by a number of
^Tan^sssG FACTOR'S LAUDATION OF QUEEN MARY. 95
evident arguments, the Queen's Highness and her honour-
-able Council to be so far as, by all means they can imagine,
they seek to eschew that they by most wilful
and malicious means follow to
their subversion.
[The following are omitted for want of space.]
An earnest Conference with the Degenerates
and Seditious, for the search of the cause
of their great disorder.
A Table [or Index].
Imprinted at London by ROBERT CALEY within the
Precinct of the late dissolved House of the
Grey Friars, now converted to a Hospi
tal called Christ's Hospital
[The present Blue Coat
School],
The loth day of January 1555.
Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solnm.
Love's Garland:
OR
Posies for Rings, Handkerchers, and
Gloves; and such pretty Tokens that
Lovers send their Loves.
Read, Skan, then Judge.
LONDON
Printed by N. O. for JOHN SPENCER, and
are to be sold at his shop on London
Bridge. 1624.
ENG. GAR. VIII.
99
Loves Garland.
f. The Posy of a Handkercher from a young Man
to his Love.
OVE is a chain whose links of gold,
Two hearts within one bosom hold.
2. Another signifying the mutual love
that should be between Man
and Wife.
In love this good doth still remain,
Though both do give, yet both doth gain.
3. Another from a doubtful Lover.
By CUPID'S bow, by weal or woe !
4. A Posy sent with a Pair of Gloves, showing what a young
Man should most respect in his choice.
I love thy Beauty, Virtue most !
For Virtue's found when Beauty's lost.
5- A Posy of a Ring, from a crossed Lover.
No hap so hard as love debarred !
6. Another.
A happy breast where love doth rest !
All perfect love is from above.
The sight of this deserves a kiss.
ioo L o v £' s GARLAND.
8. A young man to his Love, wrought in a Scarf.
A constant heart within a woman's breast,
Is Ophir gold within an ivory chest.
9. Her kind A nswer.
Of such a treasure then are thou possesst,
For thou hast such a heart in such a breast.
10. The Posy of a Ring.
To me till death, as dear as breath.
11. Another.
In thee a flame, in me the same.
1 2. Where once I choose, 1 ne'er refuse.
13. Another.
No cross so strange, my love to change.
14. The Posy of a Handkercher from a young Man
to his Love.
Pray take me kindly, Mistress ! kiss me too !
My master swears he'll do as much for you !
15. A passionate Lover's Posy.
Till that from thee I hope to gain :
All sweet is sour ; all pleasure, pain !
1 6. Another of the same cut.
Thy love, my light ; disdain, my night.
17. A nollier.
Tell my Mistress that a Lover
True as Love itself, doth love her.
1 8. Another where the Lover doth protest and request.
Hand, heart, and all I have, is thine !
Hand, heart, and all thou hast, be mine !
T624.] POSIES FOR RINGS, HANDKERCHERS, &c. 101
19. Another.
As you find me, mind me !
20. The Posy of a young Man to his Love shewing the
simplicity and truth of Love.
Two hands, two feet, two ears, two eyes :
One tongue, one heart, where true love lies.
21. Another from a Lover, far from his Love.
Though from mine eye ; yet from my heart,
No distance e'er can make thee part !
22. Another of the same mark.
Though absence may annoy :
To me, 'tis a double joy.
23. A Posy in a Ring.
Be true to me, as I to thee.
24. Another.
God above increase our love !
25. Another.
All thine is mine.
26. Another.
Ne'er joy in heart that seeks to part.
27. Another sent ^vith a pair of Bracelets.
Fair as VENUS ; as DIANA
Chaste and pure is my SUSANNA.
28. The Posy of a yonng Man to his Love, shelving
what a Woman should be.
If Woman should to Man be woe,
She should not be what GOD did make her :
That was to be a helper ; so
GOD then did give, Man now doth take her.
IO2 LOVE'S GARLAND.
29. The Posy of a Maid cast off, expressing how
light\ly\ she takes it.
Tell him that had my heart in chase,
And now at other games doth fly :
Green Sickness ne'er shall spoil my face ;
Nor puling " Heigh Ho's ! " wet mine eye !
30. The Posy of a Ring.
I do rejoice in thee my choice.
31. A Posy of a scornful Lover.
Since thy hot love so quickly's done :
Do thou but go, I'll strive to run !
32. A Posy shewing Man and Wife to be one.
Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone ;
From one made two are two made one.
3 3. Posies for Rings.
As true to thee, as death to me.
34. A notJier.
If thou deny, I wish to die.
35- Another.
In trust, be just.
36. Another.
I live if " I [Ay} " : If " No," I die.
37. Another.
No bitter smart can change my heart !
38. Another.
Rather die than faith deny !
39. Another.
Not lust, but love ; as time shall prove.
i6?24-] POSIES FOR RINGS, HANDKERCHERS, &c. 103
40. Another.
To love as I do thee,
Is to love none but me.
41. A Posy sent by a young Man to his Love in a
Handkercher, in which was wrought the
fashion of a Heart with wings.
Of all bad things, a heart with wings is still the worst ;
And he that meets with one so fleet, of all's accurst.
42. The Maiden's reply in a Handkercher, in which was
the shape of a Heart with an arrow through it.
A flying Heart, a piercing dart doth well deserve :
So be it with me, if I from thee shall ever swerve !
43. Thou mine, I thine.
44. Another.
Be true to me as I to thee.
45. A young Maid to her Love in a Scarf.
She that of all doth love thee dearest,
Doth send thee this ; which as thou wearest
And oft dost look on, think on me !
As I by thine do think on thee.
46. From a young Man to his Love wrought in a Silk Girdle.
Till death divide, whate'er betide !
47. Another.
The World's a Lottery ! My prize
A love that's fair, as chaste, as wise.
48. A young Man to his Love, describing the power and
ever flourishing virtue of Love.
Love till Doomsday in his prime ;
Like APOLLO robed in gold :
Though it have been as long as Time ;
Yet still is young, though Time be old.
104 L o v E' s GARLAND. [ICJ
624.
49. Another.
My promise past shall ever last.
50. From a young man to his Love shewing that Virtue
and Beauty should be together.
Thy beauty much, thy virtue such, my heart hath fired :
The first alone is worse than none ; but both, admired.
51. The Posy of a pitiful Lover writ in a Riband Carnation
three pennies broad, and wound about a fair branch
of Rosemary ; upon which he wittily plays thus :
Rosemary, ROSE, I send to thee ;
In hope that thou wilt marry me.
Nothing can be sweet, ROSE !
More sweeter unto HARRY,
Than marry ROSE :
Sweeter than this Rosemary.
52. The Sweet Reply, in a conceit of the same cut, sent
by ROSE, with a vial of Rosewater of her making.
Thy sweet commands again, my sweetest HARRY !
My sweet Rosewater for thy sweet Rosemary :
By which, sweet HAL, sweet ROSE doth let thee see,
Thy love's as sweet to her as hers to thee.
53. A wanton Lover's wish sent in a Handkercher with a
Cupid wrought in the middle.
To me by far more fair is my fair ANNE
Than sweet-cheeked LEDA, with her silver swan :
That I ne'er saw, but have the picture seen ;
And wished myself between thine arms, sweet NAN
54. For a Ring.
Desire like fire doth still aspire.
55. A Posy sent with a pair of Bracelets.
Mine eye did see, my heart did choose ;
True love doth bind till death doth loose.
id,.] POSIES FOR RINGS, HANDKERCHERS, &c. 105
56. Another sent with a silk Girdle.
Accept of this, my heart withal ;
My love is great, though this be small.
57. Another sent with a rich pair of Gloves.
This for a certain truth true love approves.
" The heart's not where it lives, but where it loves."
58. For Rings.
Heart's content can ne'er repent.
59. Another.
My heart and I until I die.
<5o. Not two but one till life be gone.
<5i. A Lover's conceit upon a Bracelet and Parilet
[neck-kerchief, or ruff] ; sent witJi a
pair of amber Bracelets.
Bracelets I'll give, embrace let's ever !
Let Partlets go, for part let's never.
€2. Love ever, or love never.
63. A Posy sent by a yonng Man to his Love, with a
Looking Glass.
Be true as fair, then past compare !
•64. For a Ring.
A woman kind, all joy of mind.
65. As I to thee, so wish to me !
<56. A drooping Lover's conceit, playing upon the word.
Hard and Heart in sound are near ;
And both within thy breast I fear.
€7. Her coy and nipping Reply, in his oivn invention.
The sound's as near in Brace and Brass,
In Hose and Horse, in Ace and Ass.
io6 LOVE'S GARLAND. [I6?2
624.
68. The Posy of a young Man, sent with a Scarf.
For one and love, some say are blind :
I say they see, if thou prove kind.
69. The Posy of a Handkercher.
Love and Wine in this degree,
The elder better still they be :
So our long suit then shall be true,
" Change not thy old Love for a new ! "
70. A Posy sent by a young Maiden to her Love.plaitea
in a Bracelet of her own hair.
When this about thine arm doth rest,
Remember her that loves thee best !
71. Another from a young Man to his Love
protesting constancy.
To thee as constant as the sun to day :
Till from this light, I must be forced away.
72. A Posy sent with a silk Girdle.
VENUS naked in her chamber,
Wounds more deep than MARS in armour.
73. The Maid's Answer.
If such a wound you fear ;
Take heed you come not there !
74. A drooping Lover s Posy, sent with a pair of Gloves.
'Tween hope and sad despair I sail ;
Thy help I crave !
My grief the sea, thy breath the sail
May sink or save.
75. Another of the same kind.
Hope and despair attend me still :
Hope strives to save ; despair, to kill !
i6?24J POSIES FOR RINGS, HANDKERCHERS, &c. 107
76. Lust loves to range :
Love knows no change.
77. Thine mine, mine thine.
78. Both must be one, or one be none.
79. Love ever, or love never !
80. A neglected Lover, to his Mistress.
'Tis true as old, " Hot Love, soon cold !"
8 1. A nother expressing the power of L ove,
Who is't withstands,
When Love commands ?
Short Posies for Rings in prose.
82. The loadstone of Love is love.
83. Be true to the end !
84. I live in hope.
85. I like my choice.
86. No change in Virtue's choice !
87. Keep me in mind !
88. Desire hath no rest.
89. I present, thee absent.
90. Not the gift but the giver,
91. Be firm in faith !
92. This and myself.
93. I choose thee, not to change.
io8 L o v £' s GARLAND. [l6?24.
94. Advised choice admits no change.
95. Accept my goodwill !
96. I love no lack.
97. The heart lives where it loves.
98. Not me, nor mine ; but ours.
99. Thy [?], my wish.
100. Love is the bond of Peace,
101. No life to Love !
1 02. Remember this, and give a kiss !
103. Thy love I crave, mine thou shalt have.
Good Counsel.
If poor thou art, yet patient bide !
For after ebb may come a tide :
Yet at full sea, keep water store !
That afterward thou want no more.
On the World.
The World's a City furnished with spacious streets :
And Death's the Market Place ; whereat all creatures meet.
When GOD made all, he made all good ;
So Woman was, if she had stood :
Though Woman was the cause of fall ;
Yet JESUS' blood made amends for all.
On a Good Woman.
A wise man poor is like a Sacred Book that's never read.
To himself he lives, though to the World seems dead :
Yet this Age counts more of a golden fool
Than of a thread-bare Saint, nursed up in Wisdom's School.
FINIS.
The True Report
of the burning of the Steeple
and Church of Paul's
in London.
Jeremiah xviii. [7, 8.]
{ will speak suddenly against a Nation, or against a Kingdom,.
to pluck it up, and to root it out, and destroy it. But if that
Nation against whom I have pronounced, turn from their
wickedness ; I will repent of the plague that I
thought to bring upon them.
Imprinted at London, at the
West end of Paul's Church, at
the sign of the Hedgehog,
by William Seres.
Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum.
Anno 1561, the loth of June.
Ill
The True Report of the burning of
the Steeple and Church of
Paul' s in London.
N Wednesday, being the 4th day of June
in the year of our Lord 1561 (and in the
3rd year of the reign of our Sovereign
Lady ELIZABETH, by the Grace of God,
Queen of England France and Ireland,
Defender of the Faith, &c.), between one
and two of the clock at afternoon, was
seen a marvellous great fiery lightning ;
and immediately ensued a most terrible hideous crack of
thunder, such as seldom hath been heard ; and that, by
estimation of sense, directly over the city of London. At
which instant, the corner of a turret of the Steeple of St
Martin's Church within Lud Gate was torn ; and divers
great stones casten down ; and a hole broken through the
roof and timber of the said Church by the fall of the same
stones.
For divers persons (in time of the said tempest, being on
the river of Thames ; and others being in the fields near
adjoining to the city) affirmed that they saw a long and
spear-pointed flame of fire, as it were, run through the top of
the broche \pr spire] or shaft of Paul's Steeple ; from the
East, westward. And some of the parish of St Martin's,
then being in the street, did feel a marvellous strong air or
whirlwind, with a smell like brimstone, coming from Paul's
Church ; and withal heard a rush of the stones which fell
from their Steeple into the Church.
ii2 PAUL'S STEEPLE STRUCK BY LIGHTNING. [IoJunTeis6r
Between four and five of the clock, a smoke was espied by
divers to break out under the bowl of the said shaft of Paul's ;
and namely {particularly} by PETER JOHNSON, Principal
Registrar to the Bishop of LONDON ; who immediately
brought word to the Bishop's House.
But, suddenly after, as it were in a moment, the flame
brake forth in a circle, like a garland, round about the broche,
about two yards, to the estimation of sight, under the bowl
of the said shaft ; and increased in such wise that, within a
quarter of an hour, or little more, the Cross and the Eagle
on the top fell down upon the South cross He \Aisle\.
The Lord Mayor being sent for, and his Bretheren [the
Aldermen], came with all speed possible ; and had a short
consultation, as in such a case might be, with the Bishop of
LONDON and others, for the best way of remedy. And
thither came also [Sir NICHOLAS BACON] the Lord Keeper
of the Great Seal, and [WILLIAM PAULET, Marquis of
WINCHESTER] the Lord Treasurer : who, by their wisdom
and authority, directed as good order as in so great confusion
could possibly be.
Some there were, pretending experience in wars, that
counselled the remnant of the Steeple to be shot down with
cannons ; which counsel was not liked, as most perilous both
for the dispersing [of] the fire, and [the] destruction of houses
and people.
Others (perceiving the Steeple to be past all recovery ;
considering the hugeness of the fire, and the dropping of the
lead) thought best to get ladders, and scale the Church ; and
with axes to hew down a space of the roof of the Church to
stay the fire, at the least to save some part of the said
Church : which was concluded [decided itpon~\. But before
the ladders and buckets could be brought, and things put in
any order (and especially because the Church was of such
height that they could not scale it, and no sufficient number
of axes could be had : the labourers also being troubled with
the multitude of idle gazers) ; the most part of the highest
roof of the Church was on fire.
First, the fall of the Cross and Eagle fired the South cross
He \_Aisle\\ which He was first consumed. The beams and
iojun?ei56i.] THE BlSHOP OF LONDON'S PALACE SAVED. I 13
brands of the Steeple fell down on every side, and fired the
other three parts : that is to say, the Chancel or Quire, the
North He, and the body of the Church. So that, in one
hour's space, the broche [or spire\ of the Steeple was burnt
down to the battlements ; and the most part of the highest
roof of the Church likewise consumed.
The state of the Steeple and Church seeming both
desperate ; my Lord Mayor was advised, by one Master
WINTER of the Admiralty [i.e. Admiral Sir WILLIAM
WINTER], to convert the most part of his care and provision
to preserve the Bishop's Palace adjoining to the north-west
end of the Church ; lest from that House, being large, the
fire might spread to the streets adjoining. Whereupon the
ladders, buckets, and labourers were commanded thither ;
and, by great labour and diligence, a piece of the roof of the
North He was cut down, and the fire so stayed : and, by
much water, that part quenched ; and the said Bishop's
House preserved.
It pleased GOD also, at the same time, both to turn, and
calm, the wind : which afore was vehement ; and continued
still high and great in other parts without the city.
There were above 500 persons that laboured in carrying
and filling water, &c. Divers substantial citizens took pains
as if they had been labourers ; so did also divers and sundry
Gentlemen, whose names were not known to the Writer
hereof: but amongst others, the said Master WINTER, and
one Master STRANGUISH, did both take notable pains in
their own persons ; and also much directed and encouraged
others, and that not without great danger to themselves.
In the evening, came the Lord CLINTON, [the] Lord
Admiral, from the Court at Greenwich ; whom the Queen's
Majesty (as soon as the rage of the fire was espied by Her
Majesty and others in the Court, of the pitiful inclination
and love that her gracious Highness did bear both to the
said Church and the city) sent to assist my Lord Mayor, for
the suppressing of the fire : who, with his wisdom authority
and diligent travail, did very much good therein.
ENG. GAR. VIII. 8
1 14 THE FIRE LASTED FROM 4 TILL IO P.M. [I0 Jun?e IS<5l>
About ten of the clock, the fierceness of the fire was past,
the timber being fallen and lying burning upon the vaults of
stone ; the vaults yet (GOD be thanked ! ) standing un-
perished. So as only the timber of the whole Church was
consumed, and the lead molten : saving the most part of the
two low lies of the Quire, and a piece of the North He, and
another small piece of the South He in the body of the
Church.
Notwithstanding all which, it pleased the merciful GOD,
in his wrath, to remember his mercy ; and to enclose the
harm of this most fierce and terrible fire within the walls of
this one Church : not extending any part of his wrath in this
fire upon the rest of the city, which to all reason and sense
of man was subject to utter destruction. For in the whole
city, without the Church, no stick was kindled surely. Not
withstanding that, in divers parts and streets, and within the
houses both adjoining and of a good distance, as in Fleet
Street and Newgate Market, by the violence of the fire,
burning coals of great bigness fell down almost as thick as
hailstones ; and flaws of lead were blown abroad into the
gardens without the city, like flaws of snow in breadth :
without hurt (GOD be thanked ! ) to any house or person.
Many fond talks go abroad of the original cause of this.
Some say, It was negligence of plumbers : whereas, by due
examination, it is proved that no plumbers or other work
men laboured in the Church for six months before. Others
suspect that it was done by some wicked practice of wild
fire or gunpowder : but no just suspicions thereof, by any
examination, can be found hitherto. Some suspect Con
jurors and Sorcerers, whereof there is also no great likeli
hood : and if it had been wrought that way ; yet could not
the Devil have done it without GOD's permission, and to
some purpose of his unsearchable judgments, as appeareth
in the story of JOB.
The true cause, as it seemeth, was the tempest, by GOD's
sufferance. For it cannot be otherwise gathered, but that,
at the said great and terrible thunderclap, when St Martin's
Steeple was torn, the lightning (which by natural order
smiteth the highest) did first smite the top of Paul's Steeple;
10 Jun?e IS6i.] PILKINGTON'S SERMON AT PAUL'S CROSS. 115
and entering in at the small holes, which have always
remained open for building scaffolds to the works, and rind
ing the timber very old and dry, did kindle the same : and
so the fire increasing, grew to a flame, and wrought the
effect which followed ; most terrible then to behold, and now
most lamentable to look upon.
On Sunday following, being the 8th day of June [1561],
the reverend [Father] in GOD [JAMES PILKINGTON] Bishop
of DURHAM, at St Paul's Cross, made a learned and fruitful
Sermon ; exhorting the auditory to a general repentance,
and namely [especially] to humble obedience to the laws and
Superior Powers, which virtue is much decayed in these our
days : seeming to have intelligence from the Queen's High
ness, that Her Majesty intendeth more severity of laws shall
be executed against persons disobedient, as well in causes of
Religion as Civil ; to the great rejoicing of his auditors.
He exhorted also his audience to take this as a general
warning to the whole realm, and namely [especially} to the
city of London, of some greater plague to follow if amend
ment of life in all [e]states did not ensue. He much
reproved those persons which would assign the cause of this
wrath of GOD to any particular [ejstate of men ; or that
were diligent to look into other men's lives, and could see
no faults in themselves : but wished that every man would
descend into himself and say with DAVID, Ego sum qui
peccavi. " I am he that hath sinned." And so forth to that
effect, very godly.
He also not only reproved the profanation of the said
Church of Paul's, of long time heretofore abused [in Paul's
Walk] by walking, jangling, brawling, fighting, bargaining,
&c., namely [particularly} in Sermon and Service time : but
also answered by the way to the objections of such evil-
tongued persons which do impute this token of GOD's
deserved ire to alteration, or rather, Reformation of Reli
gion ; declaring out of ancient records and histories the like,
yea, and greater matters, [that] had befallen in the time of
superstition and ignorance.
For, in the 1st year of King STEPHEN [1135-6 A.D.]
not only the said Church of Paul's was burnt : but also a
great part of the city : that is to say, from London Bridge
n6 PREVIOUS FIRES IN LONDON. [10 JunTe I56x.
to St Clement's [Church] without Temple Bar, was by fire
consumed.
And in the days of King HENRY VI., the Steeple of Paul's
was also fired by lightning : although it was then stayed by
diligence of the citizens ; the fire being then, by likelihood,
not so fierce.
Many other such like common calamities he rehearsed,
which happened in other countries, both nigh to this realm
and far off, where the Church of Rome hath most authority.
And therefore [he] concluded the surest way to be, that
every man should judge examine and amend himself; and
embrace believe and truly follow the Word of GOD ; and
earnestly to pray to GOD to turn away from us his deserved
wrath and indignation ; whereof this his terrible work is a
most certain warning, if we repent not unfeignedly.
The which GOD grant may come to pass in all estates
and degrees, to the glory of His name, and to our endless
comfort in CHRIST our Saviour. Amen.
GOD save the Queen.
- -
•h ,fc _ J*.
1
1
SIX IDILLIA,
THAT IS,
SIX SMALL, OR PETTY, POEMS,
OR ECLOGUES,
chosen out of the right famous Sicilian Poet
THEOCRITUS,
And translated into English verse.
Dum defluat amnis.
VT^*^"
PRINTED
At Oxford by IOSEPH BARNES.
1588.
E. D.
Libenter hie, et omnis exantlabitur
Labor, in tuae spem gratiae.
[HORACE, Epodes i. 23-24.]
SIX IDILLIA
chosen out of the famous Sicilian Poet
THEOCRITUS,
and translated into English verse.
THE EIGHTH IDILLION.
Argument.
MENALCAS a Shepherd and DAPHNIS a Neatherd, two Sicilian Lads,
contending who should sing best, pawn their Whistles ; and choose
a Goatherd to be their Judge : who giveth sentence on DAPHNIS
his side. The thing is imagined to be done in the Isle of Sicily, by
the sea-shore. Of whose singing, this Idillion is called Bucoliastae,
that is, " Singers of a Neatherd's Song."
BUCOLIA ST^E.
DAPHNIS, MENALCAS, Goatherd.
TH lovely Neatherd DAPHNIS on the hills,
they say,
Shepherd MENALCAS met upon a summer's
day:
Both youthful striplings, both had yellow
heads of hair ;
In whistling both, and both in singing
skilful were.
120 THE EIGHTH IDYL OF THEOCRITUS. [^;
MENALCAS first, beholding DAPHNIS, thus bespake :
MENALCAS.
" Wilt thou in singing, Neatherd DAPHNIS, undertake
To strive with me ? For I affirm that, at my will,
I can thee pass ! " Thus DAPHNIS answered on the hilL
DAPHNIS.
" Whistler MENALCAS, thou shalt never me excel
In singing, though to death with singing thou should'st swell ! "
MENALCAS.
" Then wilt thou see, and something for the victor wage ? "
DAPHNIS.
41 1 will both see, and something for the victor gage ! "
MENALCAS.
" What therefore shall we pawn, that for us may be fit ? "
DAPHNIS.
" I'll pawn a calf ; a wennell lamb lay thou to it ! "
MENALCAS.
" I'll pawn no lamb : for both my Sire and Mother fell
Are very hard ; and all my sheep at e'en they tell."
DAPHNIS.
" What then ? What shall he gain that wins the victory ? "
^•J BUCOLIAST&. 121
MENALCAS.
" A gallant Whistle which 1 made with notes thrice three,
Joined with white wax, both e'en below and e'en above ;
This will I lay ! My father's things I will not move ! "
DAPHNIS.
" And I a Whistle have with notes thrice three a row,
Joined with white wax, both e'en below and e'en above.
I lately framed it : for this finger yet doth ache
With pricking, which a splinter of the reed did make.
JBut who shall be our Judge, and give us audience?"
MENALCAS.
" What if we call this Goatherd here, not far from hence,
Whose dog doth bark hard by the kids ? " The lusty boys
Did call him, and the Goatherd came to hear their toys.
The lusty boys did sing, the Goatherd judgment gave.
MENALCAS first, by lot, unto his Whistle brave,
Did sing a Neatherd's Song ; and Neatherd DAPHNIS then
Did sing, by course : but first MENALCAS thus began :
MENALCAS.
" Ye Groves and Brooks divine, if on his reed
MENALCAS ever sang a pleasant Lay ;
Fat me these lambs ! If DAPHNIS here will feed
His calves, let him have pasture too I pray ! "
DAPHNIS.
" Ye pleasant Springs and Plants, would DAPHNIS had
As sweet a voice as have the nightingales !
Feed me this herd ! and if the Shepherd's lad
MENALCAS comes, let him have all the dales ! "
122 THE EIGHTH IDYL OF THEOCRITUS. [^
MENALCAS.
" 'Tis ever Spring ; there meads are ever gay ;
There strout the bags ; there sheep are fatly fed ,
When DAPHNE comes ! Go she away ;
Then both the Shepherd there, and grass are dead."
DAPHNIS.
" There both the ewes, and goats, bring forth their twins ;.
There bees do fill their hives ; there oaks are high ;
Where MlLO treads ! When he away begins
To go, both Neatherd and the neat wax dry."
MENALCAS.
" O husband of the goats ! O wood so high !
0 kids ! come to this brook, for he is there !
Thou with the broken horns tell MlLO shy,
That PROTEUS kept sea-calves, though god he were.1*
DAPHNIS.
" Nor PELOPS' kingdom may I crave, nor gold ;
Nor to outrun the winds upon a lea :
But in this cave I'll sing, with thee in hold,
Both looking on my sheep, and on the sea."
MENALCAS.
" A tempest marreth trees ; and drought, a spring :
Snares unto fowls, to beasts nets, are a smart ;
Love spoils a man. O JOVE, alone his sting
1 have not felt ; for thou a lover art ! "
Thus sang these boys, by course, with voices strong •
MENALCAS then began a latter song :
*jg;] BUCOLIASTJL. 123
MENALCAS.
"Wolf, spare my kids ! and spare my fruitful sheep !
And hurt me not ! though but a lad, these flocks I guide.
Lampur my dog, art thou indeed so sound asleep ?
Thou should'st not sleep while thou art by thy master's side \
My sheep, fear not to eat the tender grass at will !
Nor when it springeth up again, see that you fail !
Go to, and feed apace, and all your bellies fill !
That part your lambs may have ; and part, my milking pail."
Then DAPHNIS in his turn sweetly began to sing :
DAPHNIS.
" And me, not long ago, fair DAPHNE whistly eyed
As I drove by ; and said, I was a paragon :
Nor then indeed to her I churlishly replied ;
But, looking on the ground, my way still held I on.
Sweet is a cow-calf s voice, and sweet her breath doth smell ;
A bull calf, and a cow, do low full pleasantly.
'Tis sweet in summer by a spring abroad to dwell !
Acorns become the oak ; apples, the apple-tree ;
And calves, the kine ; and kine, the Neatherd much set out."
Thus sung these youths. The Goatherd thus did end the
doubt :
Goatherd.
" O DAPHNIS, what a dulcet mouth and voice thou hast !
'Tis sweeter thee to hear than honey-combs to taste !
Take thee these Pipes, for thou in singing dost excel !
If me, a Goatherd, thou wilt teach to sing so well ;
This broken-horned goat, on thee bestow I will !
Which to the very brim, the pail doth ever fill."
124 THE EIGHTH IDYL OF THEOCRITUS. [^58°;
So then was DAPHNIS glad, and lept and clapt his hands ;
And danced as doth a fawn, when by the dam he stands.
MENALCAS grieved, the thing his mind did much dismay :
And sad as Bride he was, upon the marriage day.
Since then among the Shepherds, DAPHNIS chief was had !
And took a Nymph to wife when he was but a lad.
DAPHNIS his Emblem.
Me tamen urit Amor.
MENALCAS his Emblem.
At hcec DAPHNE forsan probet.
Goatherd's Emblem.
Est minor nemo nisi comparatus.
125
THE ELEVENTH IDILLION.
Argument.
THEOCRITUS wrote this Idillion to NICIAS a learned Physician :
wherein he sheweth — by the example of POLYPHEMUS a giant in
Sicily, of the race of the CYCLOPS, who loved the Water Nymph
GALATEA — that there is no medicine so sovereign against Love as
is Poetry. Of whose Love Song, as this Idillion, is termed
CYCLOPS ; so he was called CYCLOPS, because he had but one eye,
that stood like a circle in the midst of his forehead.
CYCLOPS.
NlCIAS, there is no other remedy for Love,
With ointing, or with sprinkling on, that ever I
could prove,
Beside the Muses nine ! This pleasant medicine
of the mind
Grows among men ; and seems but lite, yet very hard to find :
As well I wote you know ; who are in physic such a Leech,
And of the Muses so beloved. The cause of this my speech
A CYCLOPS is, who lived here with us right wealthily ;
That ancient POLYPHEM, when first he loved GALATE
(When, with a bristled beard, his chin and cheeks first clothed
were) :
He loved her not with roses, apples, or with curled hair ;
But with the Furies' rage. All other things he little plied.
Full often to their fold, from pastures green, without a guide,
His sheep returned home : when all the while he singing lay
In honour of his Love, and on the shore consumed away
From morning until night ; sick of the wound, fast by the heart,
Which mighty VENUS gave, and in his liver stuck the dart.
126 THE ELEVENTH IDYL OF THEOCRITUS.
L
For which, this remedy he found, that sitting oftentimes
Upon a rock and looking on the sea, he sang these rhymes :
" O GALATEA fair, why dost thou shun thy lover true ?
More tender than a lamb, more white than cheese when it is
new,
More wanton than a calf, more sharp than grapes unripe, I find.
You use to come when pleasant sleep, my senses all do bind :
But you are gone again when pleasant sleep doth leave mine
eye;
And as a sheep you run, that on the plain a wolf doth spy.
" I then began to love thee, GALATE, when first of all
You, with my mother, came to gather leaves of crowtoe
[hyacinth} small
Upon our hill ; when I, as Usher, squired you all the way.
Nor when I saw thee first, nor afterwards, nor at this day,
Since then could I refrain : but you, by Jove ! nought set
thereby !
" But well I know, fair Nymph, the very cause why thus
you fly.
Because upon my front, one only brow, with bristles strong
From one ear to the other ear is stretched all along :
'Neath which, one eye ; and on my lips, a hugy nose, there
stands.
Yet I, this such a one, a thousand sheep feed on these lands ;
And pleasant milk I drink, which from the strouting bags is
presst.
Nor want I cheese in summer, nor in autumn of the best,
Nor yet in winter time. My cheese racks ever laden are ;
And better can I pipe than any CYCLOPS may compare.
O apple sweet ! of thee, and of myself I use to sing,
And that at midnight oft. For thee ! eleven fawns up I
bring,
*58°:] CYCLOPS. 127
All great with young : and four bears' whelps, I nourish up
for thee !
But come thou hither first, and thou shalt have them all of me.
And let the bluish coloured sea beat on the shore so nigh,
The night with me in cave, thou shalt consume more pleasantly!
There are the shady bays, and there tall cypress trees do
sprout :
And there is ivy black, and fertile vines are all about
Cool water there I have, distilled of the whitest snow,
A drink divine, which out of woody Etna mount doth flow.
In these respects, who in the sea and waves would rather be ?
" But if I seem as yet too rough and savage unto thee,
Great store of oaken wood I have, and never-quenched fire ;
And I can well endure my soul to burn with thy desire,
With this my only eye, than which I nothing think more
trim :
Now woe is me, my mother bore me not with fins to swim !
That I might dive to thee ; that I thy dainty hand might kiss,
If lips thou wouldst not let. Then would I lilies bring iwis,
And tender poppy-toe that bears a top like rattles red ,
And these in summer time : but others are in winter bred,
So that I cannot bring them all at once. Now certainly
I'll learn to swim of some or other stranger passing by,
That I may know what pleasure 'tis in waters deep to dwell.
"Come forth, fair GALATE ! and once got out, forget thee well
(As I do, sitting on this rock) home to return again !
But feed my sheep with me, and for to milk them take the
pain !
And cheese to press, and in the milk the rennet sharp to
strain !
My mother only wrongeth me ; and her I blame, for she
Spake never yet to thee one good, or lovely, word of me :
And that, although she daily sees how I away do pine.
But I will say, 'My head and feet do ache,' that she may
whine,
128 THE ELEVENTH IDYL OF THEOCRITUS. [^:
And sorrow at the heart: because my heart with grief is
swoll'n.
" O CYCLOPS, CYCLOPS ! whither is thy wit and reason flown?
If thou would'st baskets make ; and cut down brouzing from
the tree,
And bring it to thy lambs, a great deal wiser thou should'st be !
Go, coy some present Nymph ! Why dost thou follow flying
wind ?
Perhaps another GALATE, and fairer, thou shalt find !
For many Maidens in the evening tide with me will play,
And all do sweetly laugh, when I stand heark'ning what
they say :
And I somebody seem, and in the earth do bear a sway."
Thus POLYPHEMUS singing, fed his raging love of old ;
Wherein he sweeter did, than had he sent her sums of gold.
POLYPHEM'S Emblem.
Ubi Dictamum inveniam ?
129
THE SIXTEENTH IDILLION.
Argument.
The style of this Poem is more lofty than any of the rest, and
THEOCRITUS wrote it to HIERO, King of Syracuse in Sicily.
Wherein he reproveth the nigardise of Princes and Great Men
towards the Learned, and namely [especially^ Poets : in whose
power it is to make men famous to all posterity. Towards the
end, he praiseth HIERO ; and prayeth that Sicily may be
delivered by his prowess from the invasions of the Carthaginians.
This Idillion is named HlERO in respect of the person to whom it
was written ; or Charites, that is, " Graces," in respect of the matter
whereof it treateth.
CHARITES, or HIERO.
| GETS have still this care, and still the Muses have
this care ;
To magnify the gods with Songs, and men that
worthy are.
The Muses they are goddesses, and gods with praise they
crown ;
But we are mortal men, and mortal men let us renown !
But who, of all the men under the cope of heaven that dwell,
By opening of his doors, our Graces entertains so well
That unrewarded quite he doth not send them back again ?
They in a chafe, all barefoot, home to me return with pain :
And me they greatly blame, &c. That they went for nought
they grudge ;
And all too weary, in the bottom of an empty hutch,
Laying their heads upon their knees full cold, they still remain :
Where they do poorly dwell, because they home returned in
vain.
ENG. GAR. VIII 9
130 THE SIXTEENTH IDYL OF THEOCRITUS. [^;
Of all that living are, who loves a man that speaketh well ?
I know not one. For now a days for deeds that do excel
Men care not to be praised : but all are overcome with gain. "*
For every man looks round, with hand in bosom, whence
amain
Coin he may get : whose rust rubbed off, he will not give
again.
But straightway thus he says, " The leg is further than the
knee,
Let me have gold enough ; the gods to Poets pay their fee!"
Who would another hear, " Enough for all, one HOMER is ;
Of poets he is Prince : yet gets he nought of me iwis ! "
Madmen, what gain is this, to hoard up bags of gold
within?
This is not money's use, nor hath to wise men ever been !
But part is due unto ourselves, part to the Poet's pen ;
And many kinsfolk must be pleasured, and many men :
And often to the gods thou must do solemn sacrifice.
Nor must thou keep a sparing house : but when, in friendly
wise,
Thou hast received strangers at thy board ; when they will
thence,
Let them depart ! But chiefly Poets must thou reverence !
That after thou art hidden in thy grave, thou mayest hear
well!
Nor basely mayest thou mourn when thou in Acheron dost
dwell !
Like to some ditcher vile, whose hands with work are hard
and dry ;
Who from his parents poor, bewails his life in beggary.
In King ANTIOCHUS his Court, and King ALEVAS' too
To distribute the monthly bread a many had to do.
The Scopedans had many droves of calves, which in their
stalls
^;] C H A R i T E s or H i E R o. 131
'Mong oxen lowed; and shepherds kept, in the Cranonian
dales,
Infinite flocks to bear the hospital {hospitable} CREONDAN'S"
charge.
No pleasure should these men enjoy of their expenses large,
When once their souls they had embarked in the Infernal
Barge;
But leaving all this wealth behind, in wretched misery
Among the dead, without renown, for ever they should lie :
Had not SlMONiDES the Chian Poet, with his pen
And with his lute of many strings so famous made these men
To all posterity. The very horses were renowned ;
Which, from their races swift returned, with olive garlands
crowned.
Whoever should have known the Lycian Princes and their
race,
Or them of Troy, of ClGNUS \CYCNUS\ with his woman's
coloured face :
Had not the Poets sung the famous Wars of them of old ?
Nor yet ULYSSES (who, for ten years space on seas was rolled,
By sundry sorts of men ; and who at last went down to Hell
As yet alive ; and from the CYCLOPS' den escaped well)
Had got such lasting fame : and drowned should lie in
silence deep
Swineherd EuiVLEUS, and PHIL^TUS who had to keep
A herd of neat ; LAERTES eke himself had been unknown —
If far and wide their names, great HOMER'S verses had not
blown.
Immortal fame to mortal men, the Muses nine do give :
But dead men's wealth is spent and quite consumed of them
that live.
But all one pain[s] it is, to number waves upon the banks,
Whereof great store, the wind from sea doth blow to land in
ranks ;
Or for to wash a brick with water clear till it be white :
132 THE SIXTEENTH IDYL OF THEOCRITUS. [^:
As for to move a man whom avarice doth once delight.
Therefore " Adieu ! " to such a one for me ! and let him have
Huge silver heaps at will, and more and more still let him crave!
But I, Goodwill of Men, and Honour, will prefer before
A many mules of price, or many horses kept in store.
Therefore I ask, To whom shall I be welcome with my train
Of Muses nine? whose ways are hard, if JOVE guides not the
rein.
The heavens yet have not left to roll both months and years
on reels ;
And many horses yet shall turn about the Chariot's wheels :
The man shall rise that shall have need of me to set him out ;
Doing such deeds of arms as AjAX, or ACHILLES stout,
Did in the field of Simois, where ILUS' bones do rest.
And now the Carthaginians, inhabiting the West,
Who in the utmost end of Liby' dwell, in arms are prest :
And now the Syracuseans their spears do carry in rhe rest ;
Whose left arms laden are with targets made of willow tree.
'Mongst whom King HlERO,the ancient Worthies' match, I see
In armour shine ; whose plume doth overshade his helmet
bright.
O JUPITER, and thou MINERVA fierce in fight,
And thou PROSERPINA (who, with thy mother, has renown
By Lysimelia streams, in Ephyra that wealthy town),
Out of our island drive our enemies, our bitter fate,
Along the Sardine sea ! that death cf friends they may relate
Unto their children and their wives! and that the towns
opprest
By enemies, of th'old inhabitants may be possesst !
That they may till the fields ! and sheep upon the downs
may bleat
By thousands infinite, and fat ! and that the herds of neat
As to their stalls they go, may press the ling'ring traveller !
Let grounds be broken up for seed, what time the grasshopper
^sssj C H A R I T E S Or H I E R O. 133
Watching the shepherds by their flocks, in boughs close
singing lies !
And let the spiders spread their slender webs in armories ;
So that of War, the very name may not be heard again !
But let the Poets strive, King HlERO's glory for to strain
Beyond the Scythean sea ; and far beyond those places where
SEMIRAMIS did build those stately walls, and rule did bear.
'Mongst whom, I will be one : for many other men beside,
JOVE'S daughters love ; whose study still shall be, both far
and wide,
Sicilian Arethusa, with the people, to advance ;
And warlike HlERO. Ye Graces! (who keep resiance [residence]
In the Thessalian Mount Orchomenus ; to Thebes of old
So hateful, though of you beloved) to stay I will be bold,
Where I am bid to come : and I with them will still remain,
That shall invite me to their house, with all my Muses' train.
Nor you, will I forsake ! For what to men can lovely be
Without your company ? The Graces always be with me !
Emblem.
Sz nihil attuleris, ibis HOMERE Joras.
134
THE EIGHTEENTH IDILLION.
Argument.
Twelve noble Spartan Virgins are brought in singing, in the evening, at
the chamber door of MENELAUS and HELENA on their Wedding
Day. And first they prettily jest with the Bridegroom, then they
praise HELENA, last they wish them both joy of their marriage.
Therefore this Idillion is entitled HELEN'S Epithalamion that is
" HELEN 's Wedding Song."
HELEN'S Epithalamion.
|N Sparta, long ago, where MENELAUS wore the
crown,
Twelve noble Virgins, daughters to the greatest in
the town,
All dight upon their hair in crowtoe \}tyacinth~\ garlands
fresh and green,
Danced at the chamber door of HELENA the Queen :
What time this MENELAUS, the younger son of ATREUS,
Did marry with this lovely daughter of Prince TYNDARUS ;
And therewithal, at eve, a Wedding Song they jointly sang,
With such a shuffling of their feet that all the palace rang.
" Fair Bridegroom, do you sleep ? Hath slumber all your'
limbs possesst ?
What, are you drowsy ? or hath wine your body so oppress!
That you are gone to bed ? For if you needs would take
your rest,
You should have ta'en a season meet. Mean time, till it be day,
Suffer the Bride with us, and with her mother dear, to play !
For, MENELAUS, She, at evening and at morning tide.
yj;] v H E L E N ' s Epithalamion. 135
From day to day, and year to year, shall be thy loving Bride.
" O happy Bridegroom, sure some honest man did sneeze
to thee,
When thou to Sparta came, to meet with such a one as She \
Among the demi-gods thou only art accounted meet
To be the Son-in-law to JOVE ! for underneath one sheet
His daughter lies with thee ! Of all that tread on ground with
feet
There is not such a one in Greece ! Now sure some goodly
thing
She will thee bear ; if it be like the mother that she bring.
For we, her peers in age, whose course of life is e'en the same;
Who, at Eurotas' streams, like men, are oiled to the game :
And four times sixty Maids, of all the women youth
we are ;
Of these none wants a fault, if her with HELEN we compare.
Like as the rising morn shews a grateful lightening,
When sacred night is past ; and Winter now lets loose the
Spring :
So glittering HELEN shined among her Maids, lusty and tall.
As is the furrow in a field that far outstretcheth all ;
Or in a garden is a cypress tree ; or in a trace,
A steed of Thessaly ; so She to Sparta was a grace.
No damsel with such works as She, her baskets used to fill ;
Nor in a divers coloured web, a woof of greater skill
Doth cut off from the loom ; nor any hath such Songs and
Lays
Unto her dainty harp, in DlAN's and MINERVA'S praise,
As HELEN hath : in whose bright eyes all Loves and Graces
be.
" O fair, O lovely Maid ! a Matron is now made of thee !
But we will, every Spring, unto the leaves in meadow go
To gather garlands sweet ; and there, not with a little woe,
136 THE EIGHTEENTH IDYL OF THEOCRITUS. [^;
Will often think of thee, O HELEN ! as the suckling lambs
Desire the strouting bags and presence of their tender dams.
We all betimes for thee, a wreath of melitoe will knit ;
And on a shady plane for thee will safely fasten it
And all betimes for thee, under a shady plane below,
Out of a silver box the sweetest ointment will bestow.
And letters shall be written in the bark that men may see,
And read, DO HUMBLE REVERENCE, FOR I AM
HELEN'S TREE !
" Sweet Bride, good night ! and thou, O happy Bridegroom,
now good night !
LATONA send your happy issue ! who is most of might
In helping youth ; and blissful VENUS send you equal love
Betwixt you both ! and JOVE give lasting riches from above,
Which from your noble selves, unto your noble imps may
fall!
Sleep on, and breathe into your breasts desires mutual !
But in the morning, wake ! Forget it not in any wise !
And we will then return ; as soon as any one shall rise
And in the chamber stir, and first of all lift up the head !
HYMEN ! O HYMEN ! now be gladsome at this marriage
bei!"
Emblem.
Usque adeo latet utitita*.
THE TWENTY-FIRST ID ILL ION.
Argument.
-A Neatherd is brought chafing that EUNICA, a Maid of the city, dis
dained to kiss him. Whereby it is thought that THEOCRITUS
seemeth to check them that think this kind of writing in Poetry
to be too base and rustical. And therefore this Poem is termed
Neatherd.
NBA THERD.
JUNICA scorned me, when her I would have sweetly
kist
And railing at me said, " Go with a mischief,
where thou list !
Thinkest thou, a wretched Neatherd, me to kiss ! I have no will
After the country guise to smouch ! Of city lips I skill !
My lovely mouth, so much as in thy dream, thou shalt not
touch !
-How dost thou look ! How dost thou talk ! How play'st
thou the slouch !
How daintily thou speak'st ! What Courting words thou
bringest out !
How soft a beard thou hast ! How fair thy locks hang round
about !
Thy lips are like a sick man's lips ! thy hands, so black they be !
And rankly thou dost smell ! Away, lest thou defilest me ! "
Having thus said, she spattered on her bosom twiceor thrice ;
And, still beholding me from top to toe in scornful wise,
She muttered with her lips ; and with her eyes she looked aside,
And of her beauty wondrous coy she was ; her mouth she
wryed,
And proudly mocked me to my face. My blood boiled in
each vein,
And red I wox for grief as doth the rose with dewy rain.
Thus leaving me, away she flang ! Since when, it vexeth me
That I should be so scorned of such a filthy drab as She.
138 THE TWENTY-FIRST IDYL OF THEOCRITUS. [E15^~
" Ye shepherds, tell me true, am not I as fair as any swan ?
Hath of a sudden any god made me another man ?
For well I wot, before a comely grace in me did shine,
Like ivy round about a tree, and decked this beard of mine.
My crisped locks, like parsley, on my temples wont to spread j
And on my eyebrows black a milk white forehead glistered :
More seemly were mine eyes than are MINERVA'S eyes, I know.
My mouth for sweetness passed cheese ; and from my mouth
did flow
A voice more sweet than honeycombs. Sweet is my Roundelay
When on the whistle, flute, or pipe, or cornet 1 do play.
And all the women on our hills do say that I am fair,
And all do love me well : but these that breathe the city air
Did never love me yet. And why ? The cause is this I know.
That I a Neatherd am. They hear not how in vales below,
Fair BACCHUS kept a herd of beasts. Nor can these nice
ones tell
How VENUS, raving for a Neatherd's love, with him did dwell
Upon the hills of Phrygia ; and how she loved again
ADONIS in the woods, and mourned in woods when he was
slain.
Who was ENDYMION ? Was he not a Neatherd ? Yet the
Moon
Did love this Neatherd so, that, from the heavens descending.
soon,
She came to Latmos grove where with the dainty lad she lay.
And RHEA, thou a Neatherd dost bewail ! and thou, all day,
O mighty JUPITER ! but for a shepherd's boy didst stray !
EUNICA only, deigned not a Neatherd for to love :
Better, forsooth, than CYBEL, VENUS, or the Moon above !
And VENUS, thou hereafter must not love thy fair ADONE
in city, nor on hill ! but all the night must sleep alone ! "
Emblem.
Habitarunt Dii quoque sylvas.
139
THE THIRTY-FIRST I D I L L I O N.
Argument.
The conceit of this Idillion is very delicate. Wherein it is imagined
how VENUS did send for the Boar who in hunting slew ADONIS, a
dainty youth whom she loved : and how the Boar answering for
himself that he slew him against his will, as being enamoured on
him, and thinking only to kiss his naked thigh ; she forgave him.
The Poet's drift is to shew the power of Love, not only in men, but
also in brute beasts : although in the last two verses, by the burning
of the Boar's amorous teeth, he intimateth that extravagant and
unorderly passions are to be restrained by reason.
ADONIS.
HEN VENUS first did see
ADONIS dead to be ;
With woeful tattered hair
And cheeks so wan and sear,
The winged Loves she bade,
The Boar should straight be had.
Forthwith like birds they fly,
And through the wood they hie ;
The woeful beast they find,
And him with cords they bind.
One with a rope before
Doth lead the captive Boar :
Another on his back
Doth make his bow to crack.
The beast went wretchedly,
For VENUS horribly
He feared ; who thus him curst :
" Of all the beasts the worst,
Didst thou this thigh so wound ?
Didst thou my Love confound ? "
140 THE TWENTY-FIRST IDYL OF THEOCRITUS.
The beast thus spake in fear
* VENUS, to thee I swear !
By thee, and husband thine,
And by these bands of mine,
And by these hunters all,
Thy husband fair and tall,
I minded not to kill !
But, as an image still,
I him beheld for love :
Which made me forward shove
His thigh, that naked was ;
Thinking to kiss, alas,
And that hath hurt me thus.
" Wherefore these teeth, VENUS !
Or punish, or cut out :
Why bear I in my snout
These needless teeth about !
If these may not suffice ;
Cut off my chaps likewise ! "
To ruth he VENUS moves,
And she commands the Loves,
His bands for to untie.
After he came not nigh
The wood ; but at her will
He followed VENUS still.
And coming to the fire,
He burnt up his desire.
Emblem.
R arts forma vzris, secula prospice,
Impunita fuit.
FINIS.
The Spoil
of
Antwerp.
me
Faithfully reported by a
true Englishman, who was
present at the same.
November 1576
allowed.
Printed at London by RICHARD JONES.
142
[The first thing here is to settle the authorship of this anonymous
tract ; which was also anonymously entered at Stationers' Hall,
probably from political reasons. From internal evidence at pp. 149,
155, 161, it is clear that the Writer was not one of the Fellowship of
the English Merchant Adventurers in Antwerp ; but was an English
man who had arrived in that city on the 22nd October 1576. Who
this Writer was would seem to be clearly settled by the following
extracts from documents in the State Paper Office, London.
S. P. Foreign. Eliz. Vols. 139-140.
915. GEORGE GASCOIGNE to Lord BURGHLEY.
From Paris, 15 September 1576.
The troubles and news of Flanders have set all the soldiers
of this realm in a triumph. . . .
But now I mean to become an eyed-witness of the stir in
Flanders ; and from thence your honour shall shortly (GOD
willing) hear of me.
951. GEORGE GASCOIGNE to Lord BURGHLEY.
From Paris, 7 October 1576.
•»
Whereof I trust shortly to understand more, for to-morrow
(GOD willing) I go towards the Low Countries ; and mean
to spend a month, [or] two, or three, as your Honours shall
like, in those parts.
For I mean to spend this winter (or as long as shall be
thought meet) in service of my country. I beseech your
Honour to confer with Master Secretary [Sir FRANCIS
WALSINGHAM] who can more at large make you privy to
my intent.
955. Sir AMIAS PAULET, Ambassador for England
in France, to Sir FRANCIS WALSINGHAM.
From Paris, 12 October 1576.
Master GASCOIGNE is departed towards Flanders ; having
prayed me to recommend him unto you by my letters,
and also to convey these letters enclosed unto you.
SPANIARDS ONLY HOLD FOUR TOWNS. 143
If this GEORGE GASCOIGNE, who, as his handwriting shows, is
doubtless the Soldier-Poet, left Paris on the 8th October, he could
very well have come to Antwerp, as the Writer of this narrative states,
at page 149, he did, by the 22nd of that month.
GASCOIGNE the Poet was a very tall man, so that he was called
" long GEORGE." This he seems to refer to at page 155, where he says,
" I got up like a tall fellow."
For further confirmation of GASCOIGNE being the Author, see pp. 164-6.
2. The best Plan of Antwerp, about the time of the Spanish Fury,
that we have met with, is that of GEORGE BRAUN'S Civitates Orbis
Terrarum, Vol. I., Plan 17.
3. All the dates in the following narrative are Old Style.
4. It is to be specially noted that Antwerp was a Roman Catholic
city that had never, in the least way possible, rebelled against PHILIP
II. ; and that its awful destruction was made, without the least provoca
tion, by the soldiers of its Sovereign, that should have protected it. Its
only crime was its great wealth. 5,000 merchants met in its Bourse, or
Exchange, every week. It was then the Venice of the North, with about
125,000 inhabitants.
The following extract will explain the general position of affairs in
Flanders about this time.
S. P. Foreign. Eliz. Vol. 140.
i, 02 1. Dr \_THOMAS] WILSON [Ambassador for
England in Flanders\ to the Privy Council.
19 November 1576.
And except despair drive the Prince [of ORANGE], I do
not think that ever he will yielof that to [the Duke of
ANJOU, the] Monsieur [of France] which he hath in his
power ; being now in better case since these late troubles
than ever he was before : having Zierikzee and Haarlem
again ; and Tergoes also, which he never had before.
There are in the Spaniards' possession, Antwerp ; Lierre,
8 English miles from thence; [Den]dermonde, 18 miles
distant ; and Maestricht, 50 miles distant ; and more they
have not in their power. . . .
The States, so far as I can understand, have none other
intention, but that the Spaniards may be sent out of the
country ; and then they offer to live in all obedience to
their King and Sovereign. The Spaniards will not depart
except the King expressly command them. In the mean
.-•ouson, they do mind nothing but spoil and ravin.]
(Continued at page 164.)
144
[The following Preface occurs in the Bodleian copy of this Tract]
To the Reader.
SHALL earnestly require thee, gentle Reader,
to correct the errors passed and escaped
in printing of this pamphlet according ta
this Table.*
And furthermore to understand that this victory
was obtained with loss of but five hundred Spaniards,
or six [hundred] at the most ; of whom I heard no
man of name recounted [as killed] saving only Don
EMANUEL.
Thus much, for haste, I had forgotten in this treaty
\treatise\ ; and therefore thought meet to place it here
in the beginning. And therewithal to advertise thee,
that these outrages and disordered cruelties done to
our Nation proceeded but from the common soldiers :
neither was there any of the Twelve which entered the
English House [see pp. 161, 164], a man of any charge
or reputation. So that I hope, these extremities not
withstanding, the King their master will take such
good order for redress thereof as our countrymen, in
the end, shall rest satisfied with reason ; and the amity
between our most gracious Sovereign and him shall
remain also firm and unviolate : the which I pray
GOD speedily to grant for the benefit of this realm.
Amen.
* The necessary corrections have been herein made. — E. A.
145
The Spoil of Antwerp.
INCE my hap was to be present at so
piteous a spectacle as the Sacking and
Spoil of Antwerp, a lamentable example
which hath already filled all Europe with
dreadful news of great calamity, I have
thought good, for the benefit of my
country, to publish a true report thereof.
The which may as well serve for profitable
example unto all estates of such condition[s] as suffered in the
same : as also answer all honest expectations with a mean
truth set down between the extreme surmises of sundry
doubtful minds ; and increased by the manifold light tales
which have been engendered by fearful or affectionate
{prejudiced} rehearsals.
And therewithal if the wickedness used in the said town
do seem unto the well disposed Reader, a sufficient cause of
GOD's so just a scourge and plague ; and yet the fury of the
vanquishers do also seem more barbarous and cruel than may
become a good Christian conqueror : let these rny few words
become a forewarning on both hands ; and let them stand as
a lantern of light between two perilous rocks ; that both
amending the one, and detesting the other, we may gather
fire out of the flint and honey out of the thistle.
To that end, all stories and Chronicles are written ; and
to that end I presume to publish this Pamphlet ; protesting
that neither malice to the one side, nor partial affection to
the other, shall make my pen to swerve any iote {jot or iota]
from truth of that which I will set down, and saw executed.
For if I were disposed to write maliciously against the
vanquishers : their former barbarous cruelty, insolences, rapes,
spoils, incests, and sacrileges committed in sundry other
places, might yield me sufficient matter without the lawful
remembrance of this their late Stratagem. Or if I would
ENG. GAR. VIII.
IO
146 MUTINY OF THE SPANIARDS AT ANTWERP. [ % ife^e!
undertake to move a general compassion by blazing abroad
the miseries and calamities of the vanquished : their long
sustained injuries and yokes of untollerable bondage, their
continual broils in war, their doubtful dreads in peace, their
accusations without cause, and condemnations without proof,
might enable a dumb stone to talk of their troubles, and
fetch brinish tears out of the most craggy rock to lament and
bewail the burning houses of so near neighbours.
But as I said before, mine only intent is to set down a
plain truth, for the satisfying of such as have hitherto been
carried about with doubtful reports ; and for a profitable
example unto all such as, being subject to like imperfections,
might fall thereby into the like calamities.
And to make the matter more perspicuous ; I must derive
the beginning of this Discourse a little beyond the beginning
of the Massacre : that the cause being partially opened, the
effect may be the more plainly seen.
It is then to be understood that the Sacking and Spoil of
Antwerp hath been, by all likelihood, long pretended
[designed] by the Spaniards : and that they have done
nothing else but lie in wait continually, to find any least
quarrel to put the same in execution. For proof whereof,
their notable Rebellion and Mutiny began in the same [city,
on 26th April 1574]; when their watch- word was Fuora
•villiacco! [This is apparently old Spanish for Out with the
townsfolk!'] might sufficiently bewray their malicious and
cruel intent. And though it were then smoothly coloured
over [explained away] and subtilly appeased by the crafty
devisers of the same : yet the coals of the choler, being but
raked up in the embers of false semblance, have now found
out the wicked winds of wiliness and wrath ; which meeting
together have kindled such a flame as gave open way to their
detestable devices.
For the Estates of the Low Countries, being over- wearied
with the intolerable burden of their tyrannies ; and having
taken arms to withstand their malice and rebellious mutinies :
the town of Antwerp, being left open and subject unto the
Citadel, did yet remain quiet ; and entered not into any
martial action.
S Novc.°ig576:] THE SPANIARDS TRY TO STARVE ANTWERP. 1 47
Whereat the Spaniards (being much moved ; and having
not yet opportunity to work their will so colourably [with a
sufficient pretence\ as they wished) bestowed certain cannon
shot out of the said Castle, and slew certain innocent souls ;
with some other small harm and damage done to the edifices :
thinking thereby to harden the hearts of the poor Flemings,
and to make them take arms for their just defence ; whiles
they thereby might take occasion to execute their unjust
pretence. And this was done on the 19th, or 2oth, of October
£1576] last.
Now to answer all objections ; I doubt not but it will be
alleged that the Castle bestowed the said cannon shot at the
town ; because they of the town did not shoot at the Prince
of ORANGE'S ships, which lay within sight thereof: but alas
it is easy to find a staff when a man would beat a dog.
For the truth is, that those ships did no greater hurt either
to the town or Castle than friendly to waft up \convoy\ all
manner of grain and victuals for the sustenance of the said
town : which even then began to want such provisions by
reason that the said Spaniards had built a Fort on [the]
Flanders side upon the same river [the Scheldt] ; and thereby
stopped all such as brought victual to the said town ; burning
and destroying the country near adjoining, and using all
terror to the poor people, to the intent that Antwerp might
lack provision^].
And about the same time also, the Spaniards cut off a
bridge, which was the open passage between Antwerp and
Machlen \Malines\ at a village called Walem [ Waelhem\ A
manifest proof of their plain intent to distress the said town,
and to shut up the same from the rest of Brabant : since they
were walled in with the river on the one side ; and on that
other the Spanish horsemen occupied all the country, and so
terrified the poor people as they durst not bring their
commodities to the same.
All this notwithstanding, the chief rulers of the said town
of Antwerp appeased the people ; and put up [with] these
injuries until they might be better able to redress them.
Soon after, the Spaniards, assisted by the treason of certain
148 ESTATES SEND 4,000 MEN TO ANTWERP. [
High Duches [Germans], entered the town of Maestricht
upon a sudden ; and put the same to sack : killing and
destroying great numbers of innocent people therein. A
thing to be noted. For that Maestricht had never revolted ;
but stood quiet under their garrisons, as faithful subjects to
their King [PHILIP II]: and the one half thereof pertained
also unto the Bishop of LlEGE, who had yet meddled nothing
at all in these actions.
The chief rulers and people of Antwerp (perceiving thereby
the cruel intent of the Spaniards ; and doubting {fearing}
their Duche \Germaii\ garrison, which was of the Count
OBERSTEIN'S Regiment, as they were also which betrayed
Maestricht) began to abandon the town, leaving their houses
and goods behind them ; and sought to withdraw themselves
into some place of safer abode.
Whereat the Estates, being moved with compassion, and
doubting that the town would shortly be left desolate, levied
a Power of 3,000 Footmen and 800 or 1,000 Horsemen
[mostly Walloons and Germans'} ; and sent the same, under
the conduct of the Marquis D'HAVRE, the young Count
[PHILIP] D'EGMONT, Monsieur DE CAPRES, Monsieur DE
BERSELLE [or BERSELEN], Monsieur DE GOGINES, and other
Nobles and Gentlemen, to succour and defend the town of Ant
werp against the cruel pretence [designs] of the said Spaniards.
And they came before the Gates thereof, on Friday the
2nd of this instant [November 1576], at a Port on the east
or south-east side thereof, called Kipdorp Port. Whereat
the Spaniards, being enraged, discharged sundry shot of
great artillery from the Castle ; but to small purpose.
At last, Monsieur [FREDERIC PERRENOT, Sieur] DE
CHAMPAGNEY, who was Governor of the town, and the Count
OBERSTEIN, which was Colonel of the garrison, demanded
of the States' [troops], Wherefore they approached the town
in such order ?
Who answered, That they came to enter the same as
friends, and to entrench and defend it from the Spaniards :
protesting further, That they would offer no manner of
violent damage or injury to the persons or goods of any such
as inhabited the same.
Hereupon the said Monsieur [the Sieur] DE CHAMPAGNEY
'S NOV.^:] THE WRITER AT ANTWERP ON 22 OCT. 149
and Count OBERSTEIN went out unto them, and conferred
more privately together by the space of one hour : and
returned into the town, leaving the Estates' Power at a
village called Borgherhout.
On the morrow, being the 3rd of this instant [November
1576], they were permitted to enter, and came into the town :
2\ Ensigns of Footmen and 6 Cornets of Horsemen.
Immediately after their .entry, the inhabitants brought
them sacks of wool and other such provision ; wherewith
they approached the Yard or plain ground which lieth before
the Castle : and, placing the same at the ends of five streets
which lie open unto the said Castle Yard [Esplanade"],
entrenched under them with such expedition that in less
than five hours those streets' ends were all reasonably well
fortified from the Castle, for any sudden [attack].
At this time and twelve days before [i.e. frotn
October 1576], I was in the said town of Antwerp, upon
certain private affairs of mine own ; so that I was enforced
to become an eyed- witness [see page 142] of their Entry [i.e.
of the States' troops] and all that they did : as also afterwards
— for all the Gates were kept fast shut, and I could not
depart — to behold the pitiful Stratagem which followed.
The Castle thundered with shot at the town : but it was a
^very misty day ; so that they could neither find their marks
very well, not yet see how the streets' ends were entrenched.
It was a strange thing to see the willingness of the in
habitants, and how soon many hands had despatched a
very great piece of work. For, before midnight, they had
made the trenches as high as the length of a pike ; and
had begun one trench for a Counterskarf [Counterscarp]
between all those streets and the Castle Yard : the which
they perfected unto the half way from St George's Church
yard unto the water's side by St Michael's ; and there
left from work, meaning to have perfected it the next
day.
That Counterscarf had been to much purpose, if it had
been finished : as shall appear by a Model [Plait] of the
whole place which I have annexed to this treaty [treatise"] ; by
150 SPANIARDS CONCENTRATE ON ANTWERP. [J No^is"?."
view whereof the skillful Reader may plainly perceive the
execution of every particularity.*
These things thus begun and set in forwardness ; it is
to be noted that the Spaniards (having intelligence of the
States' Power, when it set forward from Brussels ; and per
ceiving that it bent towards Antwerp) had sent to Maes-
tricht, Lierre, and Alost to draw all the Power that could be
made, unto the Castle of Antwerp. So that on Sunday, the
4th of this instant [November 15/6], in the morning, they all
met at the said Castle. And their Powers, as far as I could
gather, were these :
There came from Maestricht, very near to 1,000 Horsemen^
led by ALONZO DE VARGAS who is the General of the
Horsemen ; and 500 Footmen or more, governed by the
Camp Master, FRANCESCO DE VALDEZ.
There came from Lierre, 500 Footmen or more, governed
by the Camp Master, JULIANO DE ROMERO.
There came from Alost, 2,000 Footmen, which were the
same that rebelled for their pay and other unreasonable
demands, immediately after the Winning of Zierikzee \J. DE
ROD AS, at page 168, states that these 2,000 soldiers were
" desperate men."] These had none other conductor than
their Electo [or Eletto, i.e., their elected Chief ; at this time a
man named NAVARETTE\ after the manner of such as mutiny
and rebel : but were of sundry Companies, as Don
EM AN u EL'S, and others. Nevertheless I have been so bold
in the Model \Plati\ as to set down the said Don EMANUEL
for their leader : both because I think that, their mutiny
notwithstanding, he led them at the exploit ; and also
because he was slain amongst them at their entry.
Thus the number of [the] Spaniards was 4,000 or there
abouts ; besides some help that they had of the garrison
within the Castle. And besides, 1,000 High Almains
[Germans'] or more ; which came from Maestricht, Lierre, and
those parts. And they were of three sundry Regiments :
* This Plan of Antwerp at the time of the Spanish Fury, drawn up
from the instructions of GEORGE GASCOIGNE, is wanting in every copy
of this Narrative that we have met with. We have strenuously searched
for it in every direction ; but without success. Its disappearance is a
great loss. — E.A.
£ Nov0.0!^:] SPANIARDS COME TO ANTWERP CASTLE. 1 5 1
CHARLES FUGGER'S, POLWILLER'S, and FRONDSBERGER'S :
but they were led all by CHARLES FUGGER. So that the
whole force of the Spaniards and their complices was
5,000 and upwards.
The which assembled and met at the Castle, on the saict
4th day [of November 1576], about ten of the clock before
dinner : and, as I have heard credibly reported, would
neither stay to refresh themselves, having marched all night
and the day before ; nor yet to confer of anything but only
of the order how they should issue and assail : protesting
and vowing neither to eat nor drink until they might eat and
drink at liberty and pleasure in Antwerp : the which vow
they performed, contrary to all men's reason and expectation.
Their order of entry into the Castle Yard [Esplanade], and
their approach to the trenches I did not see : for I could not
get out of the town ; neither did I think it reasonable to be
Hospes in aliena republica curiosus.
Yet, as I heard it rehearsed by sundry of themselves, I
will also here rehearse it for a truth :
The Horsemen and Footmen which came from Maes-
tricht and Lierre, came through a village on the east side of
the town called Borgerhout about ten of the clock before
noon, as beforesaid. The Governor and Estates, being
thereof advertised, sent out presently part of their Horsemen
and Footmen to discover and take knowledge of them. But
before they could issue out of the Gates, the Spaniards were
passed on the south-east side of the town ditch, and entered
at a Gate which standeth on the Counterscarf of the Castle
Yard \Esplanade\ called the Windmill Port. There
entered the Horsemen and all the Footmen ; saving the
High Almains [Germans] who marched round about the
Castle, by a village called Kiel ; and, trailing their pikes
on the ground after them, came in at a small Postern on
the Brayes by the river, and on the west side of the Castle.
Those which came from Alost, came through the said
village called Kiel, and so, through the Castle, [and] issued
out of the same at the Fore Gate, which standeth towards
the town.
Being thus passed, and entered into the Castle Yard,
about eleven of the clock ; they of Alost and of the Castle
152 THE SPANIARDS ATTACK THE TRENCHES. [ % N^°^«!
cast themselves into four Squadrons ; they of Maestricht and
Lierre into two Squadrons, and their Horsemen into a Troop
behind them ; and the High Almains [Germans] into a
Squadron or Battalion by the river's side.
Being thus ordered, and appointment given where every
Squadron should charge and endure ; they cast off certain
Loose Shot [Skirmishers} from every Squadron, and attacked
the Scarmouch [ ? Ptqtief]. The which continued not one
hour ; before they drew their Squadrons so near unto the
Counterscarf and Trenches, that they brake and charged
pell mell.
The Castle had, all this while, played at the town and
trenches with thundering shot : but now, upon a signal given,
ceased to shoot any more, for fear to hurt their own men ;
wherein I noted their good order, which wanted no direction,
in their greatest fury.
The Walloons and Almains [Germans'] which served in the
Trenches, defended all this while very stoutly. And the
Spaniards with their Almains continued the charge with
such valour, that in fine they won the Counterscarf, and
presently scaled the Trenches with great fury. The
Walloons and Almains, having long resisted without any
fresh relief or supply, many of them in this meanwhile
being slain and hurt, were not able any longer to repulse the
Spaniards : so that they entered the Trenches about twelve
of the clock, and presently pursued their victory down every
street.
In their chase, as fast as they gained any cross street, they
flanked the same with their Musquet[eer]s until they saw no
longer resistance of any Power ; and they proceeded in
chase, executing all such as they overtook. In this good
order they charged and entered ; in this good order they
proceeded ; and in as good order, their lackays and pages
followed with firebrands and wild fire, setting the houses on
fire in every place where their masters had entered.
The Walloons and Almains which were to defend the
town [being chiefly those commanded by the Marquis cT HAVR£~\
being grown into some security by reason that their Trenches
were so high as seemed invincible ; and, lacking sufficient
generals or directors, were found as far out of order as the
BASE TREACHERY OF EINDEN'S MEN. 153
Spaniards were to be honoured for the good order and direc
tion which they kept.
For those which came to supply and relieve the Trenches
came straggling and loose. Some came from the furthest
side of the town. Some, that were nearer, came very
fearfully ! and many, out of their lodgings, from drinking
•and carousing ; who would scarcely believe that any
conflict was begun, when the Spaniards now met them in
the streets to put them out of doubt that they dallied
not.
To conclude, their carelessness and lack of foresight was
such that they never had a Corps du Gard [Block House] to
supply and relieve their Trenches ; but only one in the
Market Place of the town, which was a good quarter of a
mile from their fortifications : and that also was of Almains
[Germans commanded by that double-dyed traitor CORNELIS
VAN EINDEN, or VAN ENDE] ; who, when they spied the
Spaniards, did gently kneel down, letting their pikes fall,
and crying, O Hebe Spaniarden ! O Hebe Spaniarden ! [" O
dear Spaniards ! " That is, VAN EINDEN traitorously joined
with the invading Spaniards^
Now I have set down the order of their entry, approach,
charge, and assault, together with their proceeding in victory ;
and that by credible report, both of the Spaniards them
selves and of others who served in their company : let me
also say a little of that which I saw executed.
I was lodged in the English House, ttt stipra : and had
not gone abroad that morning by reason of weighty business
which I had in hand the same day. At dinner time [which
was then about 1 1 a.m.], the Merchantmen of my country,
which came out of the town and dined in my chamber,
told me, That a hot scarmouch \skirmish\ was begun in
the Castle Yard, and that the fury thereof still increased,
About the midst of dinner, news came, That the shot was
so thick, as neither ground, houses, nor people could be
discerned for the smoke thereof: and before dinner were
fully ended, That the Spaniards were like[ly] to win the
Trenches.
Whereat I stept from the table, and went hastily up into
154 THE WRITER BEYOND THE EXCHANGE. [JS^fe
a high tower of the said English House : from whence I
might discover fire in four or five places of the town
towards the Castle Yard ; and thereby I was well assured
that the Spaniards indeed were entered within the Trenches.
So that I came down, and took my cloak and sword, to
see the certainty thereof : and as I passed towards the Bourse
[Exchange] I met many ; but I overtook none. And those
which I met were no townsmen, but soldiers ; nether walked
they as men which use traffic, but ran as men which are in
fear.
Whereat, being somewhat grieved, and seeing the towns
men stand every man before his door with such weapons
as they had ; I demanded of one of them, What it meant ?
Who answered me in these words, Helas, Monsieur, il
riy a point d'ordre ; et voild la mine de cette mile ! [Alas,
Sir, there is no order ; and behold the ruin of this
town ! ]
Ayez courage, mon ami ! [Have courage, my friend !],
quoth I ; and so went onwards yet towards the Bourse :
meeting all the way more and more [of those] which mended
their pace.
At last, a Walloon Trumpeter on horseback, who seemed
to be but a boy of years, drew his sword, and laid about
him, crying Ou est ce que vous enfuyez, canaille ? Faisons
t£te, pour fhoneur de la patrie ! [Where are you flying to,,
rascals ? Make head, for the honour of our country ! }
Wherewith fifty or threescore of them turned head, and
went backwards towards the Bourse.
The which encouraged me, par compagnie, to proceed.
But alas, this comfort endured but a while. For by that
time I came on the farther side of the Bourse, I might
see a great troop coming in greater haste, with their heads
as close together as a school of young fry or a flock of
sheep ; who met me, on the farther side of the Bourse,
towards the Market Place : and, having their leaders fore
most (for I knew them by their javelins, boar spears, and
staves), [they] bare me over backwards ; and ran over my
belly and my face, [a] long time before I could recover on
foot.
At last, when I was up, I looked on every side, and
seeing them run so fast, began thus to bethink me, " What,
?s
THE GATE OF THE ENGLISH HOUSE SHUT. 155
in God's name, do I hear? which have no interest in
this action ; since they who came to defend this town
are content to leave it at large, and shift for themselves."
And whilst I stood thus musing, another flock of
flyers came so fast that they bare me on my nose, and
ran as many over my back, as erst had marched over my
stomach. In fine, I got up like a tall fellow ; and went
with them for company : but their haste was such as I
could never overtake them until I came at a broad cross
street, which lieth between the English House and the
said Bourse.
There I overtook some of them grovelling on the
ground, and groaning for the last gasp ; and some others
which turned backwards to avoid the tickling of the
Spanish Musquets \Muskeieers\ : who had gotten the ends
of the said broad cross street, and flanked it both ways.
And there I stayed a while till, hearing the shot increase
and fearing to be surprised with such as might follow
in tail of us ; I gave adventure to pass through the said
cross street : and, without vaunt be it spoken, passed
through five hundred shots before I could recover the
English House.
At my coming thither, I found many of the Merchants
standing before the gate : whom I would not dis
comfort nor dismay but said, That the Spaniards had
once entered the town, and that I hoped they were gone
back again.
Nevertheless I went to the Governor : and privily per
suaded him to draw in the company ; and to shut up the
gates.
The which he consented unto : and desired me, because
I was somewhat better acquainted with such matters than
the Merchants, to take charge of the key.
I took it willingly, but before I could well shut and bar
the gate, the Spaniards were now come forwards into the
same street ; and passing by the door, called to come
in ; bestowing five or six musquet shot at the gate,
where I answered them ; whereof one came very near my
nose, and piercing through the gate, strake one of the
Merchants on the head, without any great or dangerous
156 ANTWERP ENTERED AND WON IN 3 HOURS. [J§S^S%
hurt. But the heat of the pursuit was yet such, that
they could not attend the spoil ; but passed on in
chase to the New Town, where they slew infinite
numbers of people : and, by three of the clock, or before,
returned victors ; having slain, or put to flight, all their
enemies.
And now, to keep promise and to speak without par
tiality, I must needs confess that it was the greatest
victory, and the roundliest executed, that hath been seen,
read, or heard of, in our Age : and that it was a thing
miraculous to consider how Trenches of such a height
should be entered, passed over, and won, both by Footmen
and Horsemen.
For immediately after that the Footmen were gotten
in, the Horsemen found means to follow : and being, many
of them, Harquebussiers on horseback, did pass by their
own Footmen in the streets ; and much hastened both the
flight of the Walloons, and made the way opener unto
speedy executioners.
But whosoever will therein most extoll the Spaniards
for their valour and order, must therewith confess that
it was the very ordinance of GOD for a just plague
and scourge unto the town. For otherwise it passeth
all men's capacity to conceive how it should be possible.
And yet the disorder and lack of foresight in the
Walloons did great[ly] help to augment the Spanish glory
and boast.
To conclude. The Count D'OBERSTEIN was drowned
in the New Town. The Marquis D'HAVRE and [Sieur
DE] CHAMPAGNEY escaped out of the said New Town, and
recovered the Prince of ORANGE'S ships.
Only the young Count [PHILIP] of EGMONT was taken,
fighting by St Michael's. Monsieur DE CAPRES and
Monsieur DE GOGINES were also taken. But I heard
of none that fought stoutly, saving only the said Count
of EGMONT ; whom the Colonel VERDUGO, a Spaniard
of an honourable compassion and good mind, did
save : with great danger to himself in defending the
Count
£ Naosv.oiig76'.] HORRIBLE SPANISH FURY IN ANTWERP. 157
In this conflict there were slain 600 Spaniards, or
thereabouts. And on the Thursday next following [8th
November 1576], a view of the dead bodies in the town
being taken, it was esteemed at 17,000 men, women, and
children. \This ^vould be apart from those drowned in
the Scheldt] A pitiful massacre, though GOD gave victory
to the Spaniards.
And surely, as their valiance was to be much com
mended ; so yet I can much discommend their barbarous
cruelty in many respects. For methinks that as when
GOD giveth abundance of wealth, the owner ought yet
to have regard on whom he bestow it : even so, when
GOD giveth a great and miraculous victory, the con
querors ought to have great regard unto their execution.
And though some, which favour the Spanish faction, will
alledge sundry reasons to the contrary : yet, when the blood
is cold and the fury over, methinks that a true Christian
heart should stand content with victory ; and refrain to
provoke GOD's wrath by [the] shedding of innocent
blood.
These things I rehearse the rather, because they
neither spared Age nor Sex, Time nor Place, Person nor
Country, Prof ess son nor Religion, Young nor Old, Rich
nor Poor, Strong nor Feeble: but, without any mercy, did
tyrannously triumph, when there was neither man nor
means to resist them.
For Age and Sex, Young and Old ; they slew great
numbers of young children ; but many more women more
than four score years of age.
For Time and Place ; their fury was as great ten days
after the victory, as at the time of their entry ; and
as great respect they had to the Church and Church
yard, for all their hypocritical boasting of the Catholic
Religion, as the butcher had to his shambles or slaughter
house.
For Person and Country, they spared neither friend nor
foe, Portugese nor Turk.
For Profession and Religion, the Jesuits must give
their ready coin ; and all other Religious Houses, both
coin and plate : with all short ends that were good and
portable.
158 HOTEL DE VILLE AT ANTWERP BURNT. [ £ Nov0.0^'.
The Rich was spoiled because he had ; and the Poor
were hanged because they had nothing. Neither Strength
could prevail to make resistance, nor Weakness move pity
for to refrain their horrible cruelty.
And this was not only done when the chase was hot ;
but, as I erst said, when the blood was cold ; and they
[were] now victors without resistance.
I refrain to rehearse the heaps of dead carcases which
lay at every Trench where they entered ; the thick
ness whereof did in many places exceed the height of a
man.
I forbear also to recount the huge numbers drowned
in the New Town : where a man might behold as many
sundry shapes and forms of man's motion at [the] time
of death as ever MICHAEL ANGELO did portray in
his Tables of Doomsday [Picture of the Last Judgment].
I list not to reckon the infinite number of poor Almains
[Germans], who lay burned in their armour. Some [with]
the entrails scorched out, and all the rest of the body
free. Some [with] their head and shoulders burnt off;
so that you might look down into the bulk and breast,
and there take an anatomy of the secrets of Nature.
Some [were] standing upon their waist ; being burnt off
by the thighs. And some no more but the very top of
the brain taken off with fire ; whiles the rest of the body
did abide unspeakable torments.
I set not down the ugly and filthy polluting of every
street with the gore and carcases of horses ; neither do
I complain that the one lacked burial, and the other flaying,
until the air, corrupted with their carion, infected all that
yet remained alive in the town.
And why should I describe the particularity of every
such annoyance as commonly happens both in camps and
castles where martial feats are managed ?
But I may not pass over with silence the wilful burning
and destroying of the stately Town House, and all the
muniments and records of the city : neither can I refrain
to tell their shameful rapes and outrageous forces presented
unto sundry honest dames and virgins.
It is also a ruthful remembrance, that a poor English
?s NovC.0ii576'.] 5'000 PERSONS KILLED IN COLD BLOOD. 159
Merchant, who was but a servant, having once redeemed
his master's goods for 300 crowns, was yet hanged until
he were half dead, because he had not 200 more to give
them. And the halter being cut down, and he come to
himself again ; [he] besought them on knees, with bitter
tears, to give him leave to seek and try his credit and
friends in the town, for the rest of their unreasonable
-demand. At his return, because he sped not, as indeed no
money was then to be had, they hung him again outright :
and afterwards, of exceeding courtesy, procured the Friars
Minor to bury him.
To conclude. Of the 17,000 carcases which were viewed
on the Thursday : I think, in conscience, 5,000, or few
less, were massacred after their victory ; because they
had not ready money wherewith to ransom their goods
at such prices as they pleased to set on them. At least,
all the World will bear me witness, that ten days after,
whosoever was but pointed at, and named to be a Walloon,
was immediately massacred without further audience or
trial.
For mine own part, it is well known that I did often
escape very narrowly ; because I was taken for a Walloon.
And on Sunday, the nth of this instant [November 1576],
which was the day before I gat out of the town, I saw three
poor souls murdered in my presence, because they were
pointed [at] to be Walloons : and it was well proved,
immediately [after], that one of them was a poor artificer,
who had dwelt in the town eight years before, and [had]
never managed arms, but truly followed his occupation.
Furthermore, the seed of these and other barbarous facts
brought forth this crop and fruit, That, within three days,
Antwerp, which was one of the richest towns in Europe,
had now no money nor treasure to be found therein, but only
in the hands of murderers and strumpets. For every Don
DlEGO must walk, jetting up and down the streets, with
his harlot by him, in her chain and bracelets of gold.
And the notable Bourse, which was wont to be a safe
assembly for merchants and men of all honest trades, had
now none other merchandise therein but as many dicing
tables as might be placed round about it, all the day long.
1 60 THE ENGLISH HOUSE SPOILED BY SOLDIERS. [fjN^^Sr
Men will boast of the Spaniards, that they are the best
and most orderly soldiers in the World : but, sure[ly], if
this be their order, I had rather be accounted a Besoigner
[French for an indigent beggar\ than a brave soldier in
such a Band : neither must we think, although it hath
pleased GOD (for some secret cause only known to his
divine Majesty) to yield Antwerp and Maestricht thus into
their hands ; that he will spare to punish this their
outrageous cruelty, when his good will and pleasure shall
be to do the same. For surely their boasting and bragging
of iniquity is over great to escape long unscourged.
1 have talked with sundry of them ; and demanded, Why
they would command that the Town House should be
burned ?
And their answer was, Because it was the place of
assembly where all evil counsels were contrived.
As though it were just that the stocks and stones should
suffer for the offence of men. But such is their obstinate
mind and arrogancy that, if they might have their will, they
would altogether raze and destroy the towns, until no one
stone were left upon another. Neither doth their stubborn
blindness suffer them to perceive that in so doing they
should much endamage the King their Master ; whom they
boast so faithfully to honour, serve, and obey.
As for the injuries done by them unto our own Nation
particularly ; I will thus set down as much as I know.
We were quiet in the House appointed for the Mansion
of English Merchants, under safe Conduct, Protection, and
Placard \Placcaet = Proc lamation\ of their King: having
neither meddled any way in these actions ; nor by any
means assisted the Estates of the country with money,
munition, or any kind of aid. Yea, the Governor [THOMAS
HETON] and Merchants, foreseeing the danger of the time,
had often demanded passport[s] of the King's Governors
and Officers to depart.
And all these, with sundry other allegations, we
propounded and protested unto them before they entered
the English House ; desiring to be there protected, according
to our Privileges and Grants from the King their Master ;
?s NoSvCOli576:] A RANSOM OF I2,OOO CROWNS ASKED. l6l
and that they would suffer us there to remain, free from
all outrage spoil or ransom, until we might make our estate
known unto [SANCHO D' AVILA] the Castellan [of Antwerp
Castle] and other Head Officers which served there for the
said King.
All which notwithstanding ; they threatened to fire the
House unless we would open the doors : and, being once
suffered to enter, demanded presently the ransom of 12,000
crowns of the Governor. Which sum, being not indeed in
the House, neither yet one-third part of the same ; they
spared not with naked swords and daggers to menace the
Governor, and violently to present him death ; because
he had not wherewith to content their greedy minds.
I will not boast of any help afforded by me in that
distress : but I thank the Lord GOD ! who made me an
instrument to appease their devilish furies. And I think
that the Governor and all the Company will confess that I
used mine uttermost skill and aid for the safeguard of their
lives, as well as [of] mine own.
But in the end, all eloquence notwithstanding ; the
Governor [THOMAS HETON], being a comely aged man
and a person whose hoary hairs might move pity and
procure reverence in any good mind ; especially the upright
ness of his dealing considered : they enforced him, with
great danger, to bring forth all the money, plate, and jewels
which were in the House ; and to prepare the remnant of
12,000 crowns at such days and times as they pleased to
appoint.
And of the rest of our Nation, which had their goods
remaining in their several packhouses and lodgings elsewhere
in the town ; they took such pity that four they slew,
and divers others they most cruelly and dangerously hurt :
spoiling and ransoming them to the uttermost value that
might be made, or esteemed, of all their goods. Yea, a
certain one, they enforced to ransom his goods twice ; yea,
thrice : and, all that notwithstanding, took the said goods
violently from them at the last.
And all these injuries being opened unto their chief
Governors in time convenient ; and whiles yet the whole
sum, set for [the] several ransoms of our countrymen and
the English House in general, were not half paid ; so that
ENG. GAR, VIII 1 1
Saseoigne.
$ov. 1576.
justice and good order might partly have qualified the
former rigours preferred by the soldiers : the said Governors
were as slow and deaf, as the others were quick and light,
of hearing to find the bottom of every bag in the town.
So that it seemeth they were fully agreed in all things :
or, if any contention were, the same was but [a] strife who,
or which, of them might do greatest wrongs. Keeping the
said Governor and Merchants there still, without grant of
passport or safe conduct, when there are scarcely any
victuals to be had for any money in the town ; nor yet
the said Merchants have any money to buy it, where it is.
And as for credit ; neither credit nor pawn can now find coin
in Antwerp.
In these distresses, I left them the I2th of this instant
November 1576; when I parted from them : not as one who
was hasty to leave and abandon them in such misery ; but
to solicit their rueful causes here, and to deliver the same
unto Her Majesty and [the Privy] Council in such sort as I
beheld it there.
And this is, in effect, the whole truth of the Sacking and
Spoil of so famous a town. Wherein is to be noted — that
the Spaniards and their faction being but 5,000 ; the
Trenches made against them of such height as seemed
invincible ; the Power within the town, 15,000 or 16,000
able fighting men well armed, I mean the townsmen ready
armed being counted : it was charged, entered, and won in
three hours ; and before six hours passed over, every house
therein sacked, or ransomed at the uttermost value.
Thewhichvictory(being miraculous and past man's capacity
to comprehend how it should be possible) I must needs
attribute unto GOD's just wrath poured upon the inhabitants
for their iniquity, more than to the manhood and force of the
Spaniards. And yet I mean not to rob them of their
deserved glory ; but to confess that both their order and
valour in charging and entering was famous : and had they
kept half so good order, or shewed the tenth part of such
manly courage, in using their victory and parting of their
spoil ; I must then needs have said that CAESAR had never
any such soldiers. And this must I needs say for them that,
as their continual training in service doth make them expert
SNOBS'] THE WALLOONS AND GERMANS FLED. 163
in all warlike stratagem[s] ; so their daily trade in spoiling
hath made them the cunningest ransackers of houses, and
the best able to bring a spoil unto a quick market, of any
soldiers or master thieves that ever I heard of.
But I leave the scanning of their deeds unto GOD,
who will bridle their insolency when he thinketh good and
convenient. And let us also learn, out of this rueful tragedy,
to detest and avoid those sins and proud enormities which
caused the wrath of GOD to be so furiously kindled and
bent against the town of Antwerp.
Let us also, if ever we should be driven to like occasion,
which GOD forbid ! learn to look better about us for good
order and direction ; the lack whereof was their overthrow.
For surely the inhabitants lacked but good guides and
leaders : for (having none other order appointed, but to
stand every man armed in readiness before his door) they
died there, many of them, righting manfully ; when the
Wallooners and High Duches [Germans] fled beastly.
Let us also learn to detest the horrible cruelties of the
Spaniards, in all executions of warlike stratagems; lest the
dishonour of such beastly deeds might bedim the honour
wherewith English soldiers have always been endowed in
their victories.
And finally let us pray to GOD for grace to amend our
lives, and for power and foresight to withstand the malice of
our enemies : that remaining and continuing in the peaceable
protection of our most gracious Sovereign, we may give
Him the glory ; and all due and loyal obedience unto Her
Majesty, whom GOD now and ever prospect and preserve.
Amen.
Written the 25th day of November 15/6,
by a true Englishman, who was
present at this piteous Massacre,
ut supra.
1 64 H ETON'S LETTER TO WALSINGHAM. [I0 i^iSS:
(Continued from page 143.)
[5. The following illustrative documents, now in the State Paper
Office, London, carry on the story of the Spanish Fury to a some
what later date.
The spelling of the word GASCON is so important, that we took
the opinion of several experts at the State Paper Office upon it. They
were all unanimous that the word is written GASCON, and not GASTON
as printed in Volume 140 of the Calendar of those Foreign State
Papers. That being so and the Christian name being given as GEORGE :
it is clear that THOMAS HETON, in the flurry in which he wrote the
Memorial from the Company, wrote GEORGE GASCON phonetically
for GEORGE GASCOIGNE.
6. The next two documents are the letters which the Soldier-Poet
brought to England, when he got out of Antwerp on I2th November
1576, as stated at page 162.
S. P. Foreign. Eliz. Vol. 140.
1,009. THOMAS HETON to Sir FRANCIS WALSINGHAM.
From Antwerp, 10 November 1576.
Right Honourable, the 3rd of this month the States'
men, Horsemen and Footmen, entered this town with
consent : and on the morrow, which was Sunday the 4th of
this present, the Spaniards with certain Almains, out of the
Castle, entered the town and drave away the States' Power
and they fled as they could : the town [being] put to sack,
with a pitiful slaughter and a miserable spoil.
Our House [was] entered by Twelve Spaniards, soldiers,
who put me and the rest of the Company in great fear.
We were put to ransom first at 12,000 crowns ; and since it
it is grown one way and [an]other to 3,000 more : and what
the Company have lost, that had their chambers and pack-
houses in the town in burghers' houses, at this present,
I know not ; but they are spoiled of all.
In the name of the Company there is a letter written
to the honourable [Privy] Council of our state [See next
document] most humbly beseeching that their Honours
would be a mean[s] for us to Her Majesty, as to their
Honours in this case they shall think good.
If we might have had passport[s] when I revuired it>
first of the States, then of Monsieur [DE] CHAMPAGNEY
.oNov11!^] THE ENGLISH MERCHANTS' MEMORIAL. 165
Governor of this town, and after of the Lords of this town,
as both by the Intercourse [of 1 507] and Privileges we ought
in right to have had ; then had we avoided this great peril
of life and miserable spoil which we have sustained.
And now I most humbly beseech you to move my good
Lords that some [persons and money] may be sent over for
our comfort, that we may be permitted to pass out of this
town in person, and [also] such goods as we have
remaining. For in this town we shall lack both victuals and
fuel ; and also be daily in fear of the like spoil that we have
sustained.
And thus, what for the great peril that I have sustained,
and the burden and charge of my Office ; I must crave
pardon though my writing be not as it should be.
I do perceive they [the Spaniards} stand here in doubt
how Her Majesty will take this doing to us.
The Lord send me and my wife into England, if it be his
good will.
At Antwerp, the loth of November 1576.
THOMAS HETON.
1,010 The Merchant Adventurers to the Privy Council.
From Antwerp, [10] November 1576.
Right Honourable our good and gracious Lords, &c.
In all humbleness these are showing to your Honours
that in respect of the troubles all over this country, and
especially the danger in this town of Antwerp ; such of
our Society as are here remaining did purpose, and some
attempted, to have, in due time, removed from this place
both their persons and goods ; some by water and some
by land, as well towards England as for Duchland [Germany.]
And being letted [hindered] of their purpose and attempts
both the ways, and not suffered to pass their goods out
of this town ; whereupon [they] sought to have had free
passage and passport here, according to the Intercourse
and Safe Conduct.
But after many delays, from time to time ; the 3rd day
of this month, our requests were plainly denied, either
to be granted, or by writing answered.
i66 THE HUMANITY OF GEORGE GASCOIGNE. [IONovHis°6:
So as, the 4th day, we are fallen into great peril of our
lives ; divers of our Company being hurt, and some slain.
And by sacking of this town ever since, we are not only
spoiled of our money and goods that were in private houses
thereof; but also we are further forced, for ransom and
safeguard of our persons and goods within the principal
House of our residence here, to answer and content the
Spanish soldiers and others who, in the Fury, entered our
said House, accounting charges, above the sum of .£5,000
Flemish.
Towards furniture [furnishing] whereof, we have been
constrained to give them all the money and plate that was
in our said House ; and also to use our credit for so much
as we could get besides. And yet all accounted and
delivered to them doth not discharge the one half of the
sum ; and for the rest we have given them Bills payable
at a month, and some part at two months : so as now we
have not money to provide for our needful sustentation.
Wherefore we most humbly beseech your good Lordships
aud Honours, of your accustomed clemencies, to have
compassion upon us ; and to be means to our most gracious
Sovereign Lady, the Queen's Majesty, that speedy order
may be given for our relief, and release out of this place :
where presently [at present} we are void of money and
credit ; and shortly are like[ly] to be void of sustenance,
and not able to get it for money.
The discourse of these tragedies we omit, and refer the
same to be reported to your Lordships by this bringer,
Master GEORGE GASCON ; whose humanity, in this time of
trouble, we, for our parts, have experimented.
And so leaving the further and due consideration of our
case unto your Right Honourable wisdoms and clemencies ;
we beseech Almighty GOD to preserve your good Lordships
and Honours in long health and felicity.
Written at Antwerp, this [zoth] day of November 1576,
By your Lordships' and Honours'
Most bound and obedient,
The Governor and Fellowship of the
English Merchant Adventurers in Antwerp,
THOMAS HETON.
^9 NOVAS'] OUR AMBASSADOR TALKS WITH RODAS. 167
7. In 1602, an anonymously written Play, based on this Narrative,
was published in London, under the title, A larum for London, or
the Siege of Antwerp, in 410.
8. Five days after GASCOIGNE got out of Antwerp ; the English
Ambassador was there. No doubt he helped our Merchant Adventurers
in their dire extremity.
JERONIMO DE RODAS, or RODA, was the supreme villain in
command of the troops that had sacked the town ; as SANCHO
D'AviLA was in charge of Antwerp Castle. Doctor WILSON thus
reports a conversation that he had with ROD AS on the I7th November
1576, thirteen days after the massacre began. This gives us the
Spanish view of the matter ; and also such miserable excuse as they
could possibly offer for their villany, which however is no excuse at all.
We must remember that it would be the Ambassador's policy to
keep fair with RODAS, who was master of the situation for the moment.
S, P. Foreign. Eliz. Vol. 140.
t, 02 1. Dr THOMAS WILSON to the Privy Council.
19 November 1576.
And now, if it please your Honours, I am to declare
my coming to RODAS, who did send unto me a Safe
Conduct for me and mine, upon a letter that I did write
to him from Ghent the loth of this month: and the i/th
of the same, I did speak with him ; immediately after my
coming to Antwerp.
And, delivering my Letters of Credit, [I] made him
acquainted with all that I did at Brussels ; and that my
coming [to Flanders] was for the King's benefit and honour :
assuring him that if either the Estates would alienate this
country [of Flanders] to any foreign Prince, or would convert it
to themselves in prejudice of the King [PHILIP II.] ; Her
Majesty would employ all her force to withstand such attempts.
These speeches he liked very well : and was persuaded,
even by plain demonstration before my departure, that
my coming was to none other end ; as it was not indeed.
Hereupon he declared unto me at large, the whole doings
at Brussels, the Mutinies made by the Spaniards at Alost
and elsewhere after their victory had at Zierikzee ; and
blamed greatly the young heads at Brussels, and the fury
of the people to use the King's Council, and to break up
the door of his Palace, in such sort as they did : [RODAS
was very nearly made prisoner in the Palace at Brussels
1 68 DR WILSON REMONSTRATES WITH RODAS. [^NoJ'i^e'.
on' 5th September /57<5, by the Seigneur DE HEZE-] clearing
the Council from all intention of evil to the town, or people,
of Brussels; making a very great discourse unto me of
this matter.
" Well," quoth I, " you are well revenged of the people
by your late victory here in Antwerp ; which hath been
very bloody."
"Can you blame us?" quoth he. "Is it not natural to
withstand force with force ; and to kill rather than to be
killed? and not to lose the King's piece committed to our
charge?"
All this I granted : and praised the Spaniards for their
valiant courage ; that, being so few, could, with policy
and manhood, overcome so many.
" But now," quoth I, " I pray you give me leave to speak a
little. After you were lords of the town — which you got
wholly and quietly within two hours after your issuing
forth — what did you mean, to continue still killing, without
mercy, people of all sorts that did bear no armour at all ;
and to murder them in their houses ? to fire the chiefest and
fairest part of the city, after you were in full and quiet
possession of all ? And not contented to spoil the whole
town, but to ransom those that were spoiled ? And to spare
no Nation : although they did bear no arms at all ; nor
yet were dealers in any practice at all against the King's
Ministers, or the Spaniards?"
His answer was, That the fury of the soldiers could
not be stayed : and that it grieved him much when the city
was on fire ; and [that there] was no sparing to kill, when all
were conquered. The soldiers of Alost were adventurers,
had no Captains, desperate persons : and would not be ruled
by any Proclamation or commandment that could be given
or made.
" Well," quoth I, " if the Fury could not be stayed ; yet
the Ransoming might be forbidden ; which is an act against
the Law of all Nations." And therefore I required him,
in the name of the Queen's Majesty, to command restitution
to be m?de to the English Nation. . . .
To conclude, he told me, That he would be glad to do
what he might for restitution ; but he thought it would be
hard. For that which is to be paid with Bills, which for the
^'ja«^s77-] ANTWERP CITIZENS NOT ALLOWED TO ARM. 1 69
Company amounteth to 5,000 crowns, at the month's end :
the same [Bills], he saith, shall be discharged ; and the
bonds cancelled. Further he hath promised to grant a Safe
Conduct for all English Merchants to go (with their goods
remaining, ships, and merchandizes), without danger, wither
soever they will : not aiding, or abetting, the King's enemies.
9. We next give the opinion of the Sieur DE CHAMPAGNEY as to how
the massacre came about.
In the following January, he was in England : and then presented a
long Memorial in French, to our Privy Council ; in which occurs the
following reference to the Spanish Fury.
S. P. Foreign. Eliz. Vol. 142.
1,029. The Sieur DE CHAPAGNEY'S Declaration.
At London, in January 1577.
That he undertook the Government of Antwerp most
unwillingly, at the express desire and command of the King
•of Spain. That, during his Government, he did all in his
power to restrain the excesses of the Spaniards in the
Citadel ; so far as to incur their odium and hatred. That he
was unable to prevent the sack of the town, owing to the
treachery of the Almain Colonels [ VAN EINDEN &c^\ of the
only troops under his command; who would not suffer the
burghers to arm in their defence.
10. EDWARD GRIMESTON, in his General History of the Netherlands
to 1608 (which is mainly based on J. F. LE PETIT'S Chronique, printed at
Dordrecht in 1601) gives the following account of the destruction of
Antwerp Castle, which had been built by the Duke of ALVA.
The inhabitants of Antwerp being still in fear, by reason
of their Castle, so long as the war was thus wavering,
fearing they should be, at some time, again surprised (term
ing it a den of thieves, an invention of men full of cruelty, a
nest of tyranny, a receptacle of all filthy villany abomination
and wickedness) obtained leave of the States to dismantle it
towards the town.
The which the burghers began the 28th of August [1577],
1 70 ANTWERP CASTLE LAID OPEN TOWN-WARD. [Le ^1;
with such spleen as there was neither great nor small (wives
children, gentlewomen, and burghers ; and all in general) but
would pull down a piece of it ; men, women, and servants
going thither, with their Ensigns displayed, having many
victuallers on the plain before the Castle \the Esplanade} ; so
as it seemed a camp. And although the masons' work was
great, strong, and thick ; yet were they not long in beating
it down on that side.
Soon after, in imitation of that of Antwerp, followed the-
dismantling of the Castles of Ghent, Utrecht, Valenciennes,
Bethune, Lille, Aire, and others ; and the Citadel of Arras
was laid open towards the town. p. 647.]
C H L O R I S,
or
The Complaint of the
passionate despised
Shepherd.
By WILLIAM SMITH.
\
(f*y
Imprinted at London,
V r *• A* .
by EDMUND BOLLIFANT.
1596.
v£r
«•
*&>
173
To the most excellent and learned
Shepherd COLIN CLOUT
[i.e. EDMUND SPENSER].
OLIN, my dear and most entire beloved,
My Muse audacious stoops her pitch to thee !
Desiring that thy patience be not moved
By these rude lines, written here you see.
Fain would my Muse, whom cruel Love hath wronged,,
Shroud her love-labours under thy protection !
And I myself, with ardent zeal, have longed
That thou mightst know, to thee my true affection.
Therefore, good COLIN, graciously accept
A few sad Sonnets which my Muse hath framed :
Though they but newly from the shell are crept,
Suffer them not by envy to be blamed !
But, underneath the shadow of thy wings,
Give warmth to these young-hatched orphan things !
Give warmth to these young-hatched orphan things !
Which, chill with cold, to thee for succour creep.
They of my study are the budding springs :
Longer I cannot them in silence keep.
They will be gadding ! sore against my mind.
But, courteous Shepherd, if they run astray,
Conduct them, that they may the pathway find :
And teach them how the Mean observe they may !
Thou shalt them ken by their discording notes !
Their weeds are plain, such as poor shepherds wear ;
Unshapen, torn, and ragged are their coats :
Yet forth they wandering are, devoid of fear.
They which have tasted of the Muses' spring,
I hope, will smile upon the tunes they sing.
W. SMITH,
FINIS.
174
To all Shepherds in general*
]Ou whom the World admires for rarest style,
You which have sung the Sonnets of True
Love,
Upon my maiden verse with favour smile !
Whose weak-penned Muse, to fly too soon doth prove :
Before her feathers have their full perfection,
She soars aloft, pricked on by blind affection.
You whose deep wits, ingine, and industry,
The everlasting palm of praise have won !
You paragons of learned Poesy
Favour these mists ! which fall before you sun :
Intentions leading to a more effect,
If you them grace but with your mild aspect.
And Thou, the Genius of my ill tuned note !
Whose beauty urged hath my rustic vein,
Through mighty oceans of despair to float ;
That I in rhyme thy cruelty complain :
Vouchsafe to read these lines both harsh and bad !
Nuntiates of Woe, with sorrow being clad.
W. SMITH.
C H L O R I S.
SONNET I.
OURTEOUS CALLIOPE, vouchsafe to lend
Thy helping hand to my untuned Song !
And grace these Lines, which I to write
pretend,
Compelled by love which doth poor CORIN
wrong.
And those, thy sacred Sisters, I beseech,
Which on Parnassus' Mount do ever dwell,
To shield my country Muse and rural speech
By their divine authority and spell.
Lastly to thee, O PAN, the shepherds' King ;
And you swift footed Dryades, I call !
Attend to hear a swain in verse to sing
Sonnets of her that keeps his heart in thrall !
O CHLORIS, weigh the task I undertake !
Thy beauty, subject of my Song I make.
SONNET II.
v beauty, subject of my Song I make ;
O fairest Fair ! on whom depends my life :
Refuse not then the task I undertake
To please thy rage, and to appease my strife !
But with one smile remunerate my toil ;
None other guerdon I, of thee desire.
Give not my lowly Muse new-hatched the foil,
But warmth ; that she may at the length aspire
Unto the temples of thy star-bright Eyes ;
Upon whose round orbs perfect Beauty sits :
From whence such glorious crystal Beams arise
As best my CHLORIS' seemly Face befits.
Which Eyes, which Beauty, which bright crystal Beam,
Which Face of thine, hath made my love extreme.
176 CHLORIS. [W-ST]£
SONNET III.
EED, silly sheep ! although your keeper pineth ;
Yet, like to TANTALUS, doth see his food.
Skip you and leap ! now bright APOLLO shineth.
Whilst I bewail my sorrows in yon wood :
Where woeful PHILOMELA doth record
(And sings with notes of sad and dire lament),
The tragedy wrought by her sister's Lord.
I'll bear a part in her black discontent !
That pipe, which erst was wont to make you glee,
Upon these downs whereon you careless graze,
Shall to her mournful music tuned be !
Let not my plaints, poor lambkins, you amaze !
There, underneath that dark and dusky bower,
Whole showers of Tears to CHLORIS I will pour!
SONNET IV.
HOLE showers of Tears to CHLORIS I will pour
As true oblations of my sincere love.
If that will not suffice, most fairest Flower !
Then shall my Sighs, thee to pity move.
If neither Tears nor Sighs can ought prevail ;
My streaming Blood thine anger shall appease !
This hand of mine by vigour shall assail
To tear my heart asunder, thee to please !
Celestial powers, on you I invocate!
You know the chaste affections of my mind !
I never did my faith yet violate !
Why should my CHLORIS then be so unkind ?
That neither Tears, nor Sighs, nor streaming Blood
Can unto mercy move her cruel mood.
CHLORIS. 177
SONNET V.
Ou Fauns and Silvans, when my CHLORIS brings
Her flocks to water in your pleasant plains,
Solicit her to pity CORIN's stings !
The smart whereof, for her, he still sustains.
For she is ruthless of my woeful song.
My oaten reed she not delights to hear.
O CHLORIS ! CHLORIS ! CORIN thou dost wrong ;
Who loves thee better than his own heart dear.
The flames of Etna are not half so hot
As is the fire which thy disdain hath bred.
Ah, cruel Fates ! why do you then besot
Poor CORIN'S soul with love ? when love is fled !
Either cause cruel CHLORIS to relent,
Or let me die upon the wound she sent 1
SONNET VI.
Ou lofty Pines, co-partners of my woe,
When CHLORIS sitteth underneath your shade ;
To her those sighs and tears, I pray you show,
Whilst you attending, I for her have made.
Whilst you attending dropped have sweet balm,
In token that you pity my distress :
ZEPHIRUS hath your stately boughs made calm ;
Whilst I, to you my sorrows did express.
The neighbour mountains bended have their tops,
When they have heard my rueful melody ;
And Elves, in rings about me leap and hop,
To frame my passions to their jollity.
Resounding echoes, from their obscure caves
Reiterate what most my fancy craves.
ENG.GAR.Vlll. 12
178 CHLORIS. [W'STS
SONNET VII.
HAT need I mourn ? seeing PAN, our sacred King,
Was, of that Nymph, fair SYRINX coy, disdained.
The World's great Light, which comforteth each
thing,
All comfortless for DAPHNE'S sake remained.
If gods can find no help to heal the sore
Made by LOVE'S shafts, which pointed are with fire ;
Unhappy CORIN, then thy chance deplore !
Since they despair by wanting their desire.
I am not PAN, though I a shepherd be ;
Yet is my Love as fair as SYRINX was.
My Song cannot with PHCEBUS's tunes agree ;
Yet CHLORIS doth his DAPHNE far surpass.
How much more fair, by so much more unkind
Than SYRINX coy, or DAPHNE, I her find.
SONNET VIII.
O sooner had fair PHCEBUS trimmed his car,
Being newly arisen from AURORA'S bed ;
But I, in whom Despair and Hope did war,
My unpenned flock unto the mountains led.
Tripping upon the snow-soft downs I spied
Three Nymphs, more fairer than those Beauties Three
Which did appear to PARIS on Mount Ide.
Coming more near, my goddess I there see.
For She, the field Nymphs oftentimes doth haunt,
To hunt with them the fierce and savage boar :
And having sported, Virelays they chant ;
Whilst I, unhappy, helpless cares deplore.
There did I call to her, ah, too unkind !
But tiger-like, of me she had no mind.
CHLORIS. 179
SONNET IXf
NTO the fountain, where fair DIANA chaste
The proud ACTEON turned to a hart,
I drave my flock that water sweet to taste ;
'Cause from the welkin, PHCEBUS 'gan depart
There did I see the Nymph whom I admire,
Remembering her locks ; of which the yellow hue
Made blush the beauties of her curled wire,
Which JOVE himself with wonder well might view.
Then red with ire, her tresses she berent ;
And weeping hid the beauty of her face :
Whilst I, amazed at her discontent,
With tears and sighs do humbly sue for grace.
But she, regarding neither tears nor moan,
Flies from the fountain, leaving me alone.
SONNET X.
Mia GoRGON ? that she doth me fly I
Or was I hatched in the river Nile ?
Or doth my CHLORIS stand in doubt that I,
With Siren songs, do seek her to beguile ?
If any one of these she can object
'Gainst me, which chaste affected love protest ;
Then might my fortunes by her frowns be checked ;
And blameless She from scandal free might rest.
But seeing I am no hideous monster born ;
But have that shape which other men do bear :
Which form great Ju PITER did never scorn
Amongst his subjects here on earth to wear.
Why should she then that soul with sorrow fill
Which vowed hath to love and serve her still ?
i8o CHLORIS. [W>SS
SONNET XI.
ELL me, my dear, what moves thy ruthless mind
To be so cruel, seeing thou art so fair ?
Did Nature frame thy beauty so unkind ;
Or dost thou scorn to pity my despair ?
O no, it was not Nature's ornament,
But winged LOVE'S impartial cruel wound,
Which in my heart is ever permanent,
Until my CHLORIS makes me whole and sound.
O glorious Love-God, think on my heart's grief t
Let not thy vassal pine through deep disdain !
By wounding CHLORIS, I shall find relief;
If thou impart to her some of my pain.
She doth thy temples and thy shrines abject !
They with AMINTA's flowers by me are decked.
SONNET XII.
EASE eyes to weep, sith none bemoans your
weeping !
Leave off, good Muse, to sound the cruel name
Of my love's Queen ! which hath my heart in
keeping ;
Yet of my love doth make a jesting game.
Long hath my sufferance laboured to enforce
One pearl of pity from her pretty eyes ;
Whilst I, with restless oceans of remorse,
Bedew the banks where my fair CHLORIS lies,
Where my fair CHLORIS bathes her tender skin ;
And doth triumph to see such rivers fall
From those moist springs, which never dry have been
Since she their honour hath detained in thrall.
And still she scorns one favouring smile to show
Unto those waves proceeding from my woe.
CHLORIS. 181
A Dream.
SONNET XIII.
HAT time fair TITAN in the zenith sat
And equally the fixed poles did heat ;
When to my flock my daily woes I chat,
And underneath a broad beech took my seat :
The dreaming god, which MORPHEUS Poets call,
Augmenting fuel to my Etna's fire,
With sleep possessing my weak senses all,
In apparitions makes my hopes aspire.
Methought I saw the Nymph I would embrace,
With arms abroad, coming to me for help :
A lust-led Satyr having her in chase ;
Which after her, about the fields, did yelp.
I seeing my Love in perplexed plight,
A sturdy bat from off an oak I reft ;
And with the ravisher continued fight
Till breathless I upon the earth him left.
Then when my coy Nymph saw her breathless foe,
With kisses kind she gratifies my pain ;
Protesting never rigour more to show.
Happy was I this good hap to obtain.
But drowsy slumbers, flying to their cell,
My sudden joy converted was to bale.
My wonted sorrows still with me do dwell.
I looked round about on hill and dale :
But I could neither my fair CHLORIS view ;
Not yet the Satyr, which erst while I slew.
1 82 CHLORIS. [w-s
S O N N E T X I V.
OURNFUL AMYNTAS, thou didst pine with care,
Because the Fates, by their untimely doom,
Of life bereft thy loving PHILLIS fair ;
When thy love's Spring did first begin to bloom-
My care doth countervail that care of thine ;
And yet my CHLORIS draws her angry breath :
My hopes, still hoping, hopeless now repine ;
For living, She doth add to me but death.
Thy PHILLIS dying, loved thee full dear.
My CHLORIS living, hates poor CORIN'S love.
Thus doth my woe as great as thine appear ;
Though sundry accents both our sorrows move.
Thy swan-like Song did shew thy dying anguish t
These weeping Truce-men shew I living languish.
SONNET XV.
HESE weeping Truce-men shew I living languish ;
My woeful wailings tell my discontent :
Yet CHLORIS nought esteemeth of mine anguish ;
My thrilling throbs, her heart cannot relent.
My kids to hear the rhymes and roundelays,
Which I, on wasteful hills, was wont to sing,
Did more delight than lark in summer days :
Whole echo made the neighbour groves to ring.
But now my flock, all drooping, bleats and cries ;
Because my Pipe, the author of their sport,
All rent, and torn, and unrespected, lies :
Their lamentations do my cares consort.
They cease to feed, and listen to the plaint ;
Which I pour forth unto a cruel Saint.
CRLORIS. 183
SONNET XVI.
HlCH I pour forth unto a cruel Saint,
Who merciless my prayers doth attend :
Who tiger-like doth pity my complaint ;
And never unto my woes will lend.
But still false hope despairing life deludes ;
And tells my fancy I shall grace obtain.
But CHLORIS fair, my orisons concludes
With fearful frowns, presagers of my pain.
Thus do I spend the weary wandering day,
Oppressed with a chaos of heart's grief :
Thus I consume the obscure night away,
Neglecting sleep which brings all cares relief.
Thus I pass my lingering life in woe :
But when my bliss will come, I do not know !
SONNET XVII.
HE perils which LEANDER took in hand,
Fair HERO'S love and favour to obtain ;
When, void of fear, securely leaving land,
Through Hellespont he swam to Cestos main :
His dangers should not counterpoise my toil.
If my dear Love would once but pity show,
To quench these flames which in my breast do broil,
Or dry these springs which from mine eyes do flow ;
Not only Hellespont, but ocean seas,
For her sweet sake, to ford I would attempt !
So that my travails would her ire appease ;
My soul, from thrall and languish to exempt.
O what is't not, poor I, would undertake ;
If labour could my peace with CHLORIS make ?
CHLORIS. £"•*%
SONNET XVIII.
Y Love, I cannot thy rare beauties place
Under those forms which many Writers use.
Some like to stones, compare their Mistress' face.
Some in the name of flowers do love abuse.
Some make their love a goldsmith's shop to be,
Where orient pearls and precious stones abound.
In my conceit these far do disagree
The prefect praise of beauty forth to sound.
O CHLORIS, thou dost imitate thyself!
Self s imitating passeth precious stones
Or all the Eastern Indian golden pelf,
Thy red and white, with purest fair atones,
Matchless for beauty Nature hath thee framed :
Only " unkind " and " cruel " thou art named.
SONNET XIX.
HE Hound, by eating grass, doth find relief :
For, being sick, it is his choicest meat.
The wounded Hart doth ease his pain and grief;
If he, the herb Dictamion may eat.
The loathsome Snake renews his sight again,
When he casts off his withered coat and hue.
The sky-bred Eagle fresh age doth obtain
When he, his beak decayed doth renew.
I worse than these, whose sore no salve can cure ;
Whose grief, no herb, nor plant, nor tree can ease :
Remediless, I still must pain endure
Till I, my CHLORIS's furious mood can please.
She, like the scorpion, gave to me a wound ;
And, like the scorpion, she must make me sound.
C H L O R I S. 185
SONNET XX.
E wasteful woods, bear witness of my woe !
Wherein my plaints did oftentimes abound.
Ye, careless birds, my sorrows well do know !
They, in your songs, were wont to make a sound.
Thou, pleasant spring, canst record likewise bear.
Of my designs and sad disparagement !
When thy transparent billows mingled were
With those downfalls which from mine eyes were sent.
The echo of my still-lamenting cries,
From hollow vaults, in treble voice resoundeth ;
And then into the empty air it flies,
And back again from whence it came reboundeth.
That Nymph, unto my clamours doth reply,
" Being likewise scorned in love, as well as I."
SONNET XXL
ElNG likewise scorned in love as well as I "
By that self-loving Boy ; which did disdain
To hear her, after him for love to cry :
For which in dens obscure she doth remain.
Yet doth she answer to each speech and word
And renders back the last of what we speak.
But 'specially, if she might have her choice,
She of " Unkindness " would her talk forth break.
She loves to hear of Love's most sacred name ;
Although, poor Nymph, in love she was despised :
And ever since she hides her head for shame,
That her true meaning was so lightly prized.
She, pitying me, part of my woes doth hear ;
As you, good Shepherds, list'ning now shall hear.
i86
CH
L O R 1 S.
TW. Smith
L 1596
SONNET XXII.
0 FAIREST Fair, to thee I make my plaint,
To thee from whom my cause of grief
doth spring :
Attentive be unto the groans, sweet Saint !
Which unto thee in doleful tunes I sing.
My mournful Muse doth always speak
of thee.
My love is pure, O do not it disdain !
With bitter sorrow still oppress not me ;
But mildly look upon me which complain.
Kill not my true-affecting thoughts; but
give
Such precious balm of comfort to my
heart,
That casting off despair, in hope to live,
1 may find help at length to ease my
smart.
So shall you add such courage to my love,
That fortune false, my faith shall not
remove.
my plaint,
doth spring,
sweet Saint !
I sing.
of thee.
disdain !
not me ;
which complain.
but give
my heart,
hope to live,
to ease my smart
my love,
shall not remove.
SONNET XXIII.
HE Phoenix fair which rich Arabia breeds,
When wasting time expires her tragedy ;
No more on PHCEBUS' radiant rayes she feeds :
But heapeth up great store of spicery ;
And on a lofty tow'ring cedar tree,
With heavenly substance, she herself consumes.
From whence she young again appears to be,
Out of the cinders of her peerless plumes.
So I, which long have fried in love's flame,
The fire, not made of spice, but sighs and tears,
Revive again, in hope Disdain to shame,
And put to flight the author of my fears.
Her eyes revive decaying life in me ;
Though they augmentors of my thraldom be.
w-s?5:£] CHLORIS. 187
SONNET XXIV.
HOUGH they augmentors of my ..araldom be :
For her I live, and her I love and none else.
O then, fair eyes, look mildly upon me !
Who poor, despised, forlorn, must live alone else :
And, like AMYNTAS, haunt the desert cells
(And moneyless there breathe out thy cruelty)
Where none but Care and Melancholy dwell.
I, for revenge, to NEMESIS will cry !
If that will not prevail ; my wandering ghost,
Which breathless here this love-scorched trunk shall leave,.
Shall unto thee, with tragic tidings post !
How thy disdain did life from soul bereave.
Then, all too late, my death thou wilt repent !
When murder's guilt, thy conscience shall torment.
SONNET XXV.
Ho doth not know that LOVE is triumphant,
Sitting upon the throne of majesty ?
The gods themselves, his cruel darts do daunt :
And he, blind boy, smiles at their misery !
LOVE made great JOVE ofttimes transform his shape.
LOVE made the fierce ALCIDES stoop at last.
ACHILLES, stout and bold, could not escape
The direful doom which LOVE upon him cast.
LOVE made LEANDER pass the dreadful flood,
Which Cestos from Abydos doth divide.
LOVE made a chaos where proud Ilion stood.
Through LOVE the Carthaginian DIDO died.
Thus may we see how LOVE doth rule and reign ;
Bringing those under, which his power disdain.
188 CHLOR2S. [W'S™£
SONNET XXVI.
HOUGH you be fair and beautiful withal ;
And I am black, for which you me despise :
Know that your beauty subject is to fall !
Though you esteem it at so high a price.
And time may come when that whereof you boast,
Which is your youth's chief wealth and ornament,
Shall withered be by winter's raging frost ;
When beauty's pride and flowering years are spent.
Then wilt thou mourn ! when none shall thee respect.
Then wilt thou think how thou hast scorned my tears !
Then, pitiless, each one will thee neglect ;
When hoary grey shall dye thy yellow hairs.
Then wilt thou think upon poor CORIN'S case !
Who loved thee dear, yet lived in thy disgrace.
SONNET XXVII.
LOVE, leave off with sorrows to torment me !
Let my heart's grief and pining pain content thee !
The breach is made ; I give thee leave to enter !
Thee to resist, great god, I dare not venture !
Restless desire doth aggravate my anguish ;
Careful conceits do fill my soul with languish :
Be not too cruel, in thy conquest gained !
Thy deadly shafts have victory obtained !
Batter no more my Fort with fierce affection ;
But shield me, captive, under thy protection !
\Two lines wanting^
I yield to thee, O LOVE, thou art the stronger !
Raise then thy siege, and trouble me no longer 1
CHLORIS. 189
SONNET XXVIII.
HAT cruel star, or fate, had dominion
When I was born ? that thus my love is crossecL
Or from what planet had I derivation ?
That thus my life in seas of woe is crossed.
Doth any live that ever hath such hap,
That all their actions are of none effect ?
Whom Fortune never dandled in her lap ;
But, as an abject, still doth me reject
Ah, fickle Dame ! and yet thou constant art
My daily grief and anguish to increase !
And to augment the troubles of my heart ;
Thou, of these bonds will never me release !
So that thy darlings, me to be may know,
The true Idea of all Worldly Woe.
SONNET XXIX.
OME in their hearts, their Mistress's colours bear ;
Some hath her gloves ; some other hath her
garters ;
Some in a bracelet wear her golden hair ;
And some with kisses seal their loving charters :
But I, which never favoui reaped yet,
Nor had one pleasant look from her fair brow ;
Content myself in silent shade to sit,
In hope at length my cares to overplow.
Meanwhile mine eyes shall feed on her fair face t
My sighs shall tell to her my sad designs !
My painful pen shall ever sue for grace !
To help my heart, which languishing now pines.
And I will triumph still amidst my woe,
Till mercy shall my sorrows overflow.
190
C H L 0 R I S.
rV. Smith.
1596.
SONNET XXX.
HE raging sea, within his limits lies ;
And with an ebb, his flowing doth discharge :
The rivers, when beyond their bounds they rise,
Themselves do empty in the ocean large :
But my love's sea, which never limit keepeth ;
Which never ebbs, but always ever floweth,
In liquid salt unto my CHLORIS weepeth ;
Yet frustrate are the tears which he bestoweth.
This sea, which first was but a little spring,
Is now so great, and far beyond all reason,
That it a deluge to my thoughts doth bring ;
Which overwhelmed hath my joying season.
So hard and dry is my Saint's cruel mind ;
These waves no way in her to sink can find.
SONNET XXXI. .
HESE waves no way in her to sink can find ;
To penetrate the pith of contemplation.
These tears cannot dissolve her hardened mind,
Nor move her heart on me to take compassion.
O then, poor CORIN, scorned and quite despised,
Loathe now to live ! since life procures my woe.
Enough thou hast thy heart anatomised,
For her sweet sake which will no pretty show.
But as cold winter's storms and nipping frosts
Can never change sweet AMARANTHUS' hue ;
So, though my love and life by her are crossed,
My heart shall still be constant firm and true !
Although ERINNYES hinder HYMEN'S rites,
My fixed faith against oblivion fights.
CHLORIS. 191
SONNET XXXII.
j|Y fixed faith against oblivion fights ;
And I cannot forget her, pretty Elf!
Although she cruel be unto my plights ;
Yet let me rather clean forget myself,
Than her sweet name out of my mind should go :
Which is th' elixir of my pining soul ;
From whence the essence of my life doth flow.
Whose beauty rare, my senses all control ;
Themselves most happy evermore accounting
That such a Nymph is Queen of their affection :
With ravished rage, they to the skies are mounting ;
Esteeming not their thraldom nor subjection.
But still do joy amidst their misery ;
With patience bearing LOVE'S captivity.
SONNET XXXIII.
|ITH patience bearing LOVE'S captivity,
Themselves unguilty of his wrath alleging :
These homely Lines, abjects of Poesy,
For liberty and for their ransom pledging :
And being free, they solemnly do vow
Under his banner ever arms to bear
Against those rebels, which do disallow
That Love, of Bliss should be the sovereign Heir.
And CHLORIS, if these weeping Truce-men may
One spark of pity from thine eyes obtain,
In recompense of their sad heavy Lay ;
Poor CORIN shall thy faithful friend remain.
And what I say, I ever will approve,
" No joy may be compared to thy love ! "
192 CHLORIS. [w-s™£
SONNET XXXIV.
| HE bird of Thrace, which doth bewail her rape
And murdered ITIS eaten by his Sire,
When she her woes in doleful tunes doth shape ;
She sets her breast against a thorny briar.
Because care-charmer Sleep should not disturb
The tragic tale which to the night she tells ;
She doth her rest and quietness thus curb,
Amongst the groves where secret silence dwells.
Even so I wake ; and waking, wail all night.
CHLORIS' unkindness, slumbers doth expel.
I need not thorns, sweet sleep to put to flight
Her cruelty, my golden rest doth quell :
That day and night to me are only one ;
Consumed in woe, in tears, in sighs, and moan.
SONNET XXXV.
| IKE to the shipman, in his brittle boat,
Tossed aloft by the unconstant wind ;
By dangerous rocks and whirling gulfs doth float,.
Hoping, at length, the wished Port to find :
So doth my love in stormy billows sail,
And passing the gaping SCYLLA's waves,
In hope at length with CHLORIS to prevail ;
And win that prize which most my fancy craves.
Which unto me of value will be more
Than was that rich and wealthy Golden Fleece ;
Which JASON stout, from Colchos island bore,
With wind in sails, unto the shore of Greece,
More rich, more rare, more worth her love I prize ;
Than all the wealth which under heaven lies.
•SIS:] CHLORIS. 193
SONNET X X X VI.
WHAT a wound, and what a deadly stroke,
Doth CUPID give to us, perplexed lovers !
Which cleaves, more fast than ivy doth to oak,
Unto our hearts where he his might discovers.
Though warlike MARS were armed at all points
With that tried coat which fiery VULCAN made ;
LOVE'S shafts did penetrate his steeled joints,
And in his breast in streaming gore did wade.
So pitiless is this fell conqueror,
That in his Mother's paps his arrows stuck \
Such is his rage ! that he doth not defer
To wound those orbs, from whence he life did suck.
Then sith no mercy he shews to his mother ;
We meekly must his force and rigour smother.
SONNETXXXVII.
| ACH beast in field doth wish the morning light.
The birds to HESPER pleasant Lays do sing.
The wanton kids, well fed, rejoice in night ;
Being likewise glad when day begins to spring.
But night, nor day, are welcome unto me :
Both can bear witness of my lamentation.
All day, sad sighing CORIN you shall see ;
All night he spends in tears and exclamation.
Thus still I live, although I take no rest ;
But living look as one that is a dying :
Thus my sad soul, with care and grief opprest,
Seems as a ghost to Styx and Lethe flying.
Thus hath fond love bereft my youthful years
Of all good hap, before old age appears.
ENG. GAR. VIII. 13
194 CHLORIS. [W-STJ£
SONNET XXXVIII.
[HAT day wherein mine eyes cannot her see,
Which is the essence of their crystal sight ;
Both blind, obscure, and dim that day they be,
And are debarred of fair heaven's light.
That day wherein mine ears do want to hear her ;
Hearing, that day, is from me quite bereft.
That day wherein to touch I come not near her ;
That day no sense of touching I have left.
That day wherein I lack the fragrant smell,
Which from her pleasant amber breath proceedeth ;
Smelling, that day, disdains with me to dwell.
Only weak hope, my pining carcase feedeth.
But burst, poor heart ! Thou hast no better hope,
Since all thy senses have no further scope.
SONNET XXXIX.
|HE stately lion and the furious bear,
The skill of man doth alter from their kind ;
For where before they wild and savage were,
By Art, both tame and meek you shall them find.
The elephant, although a mighty beast,
A man may rule according to his skill.
The lusty horse obeyeth our behest,
For with the curb, you may him guide at will.
Although the flint most hard contains the fire,
By force we do his virtue soon obtain :
For with a steel you shall have your desire.
Thus man may all things by industry gain.
Only a woman, if she list not love ;
No art, nor force, can unto pity move !
. Smith."! f* „ r ~ „ , c ir>-
1596. J <- H L O R I S. J9 3
SONNET XL.
JO art nor force can unto pity move
Her stony heart, that makes my heart to pant :
No pleading passions of my extreme love
Can mollify her mind of adamant
Ah, cruel sex, and foe to all mankind !
Either you love, or else you hate, too much !
A glist'ring show of gold in you we find ;
And yet you prove but copper in the touch.
But why ? O why, do I so far digress ?
Nature you made of pure and fairest mould,
The pomp and glory of Man to depress ;
And as your slaves in thraldom them to hold :
Which by experience now too well I prove,
There is no pain unto the pains of love.
SONNET XL I.
|AlR Shepherdess, when as these rustic lines
Come to thy sight, weigh but with what affection
Thy servile doth depaint his sad designs ;
Which to redress, of thee he makes election.
If so you scorn, you kill ; if you seem coy,
You wound poor CORIN to the very heart ;
If that you smile, you shall increase his joy ;
If these you like, you banish do all smart :
And this I do protest, most fairest Fair,
My Muse shall never cease that hill to climb,
To which the learned Muses do repair !
And all to deify thy name in rhyme.
And never none shall write with truer mind
As by all proof and trial you shall find.
196 CHLORIS, [w-s™,
SONNET XLIJ.
| IE, die my Hopes ! for you do but augment
The burning accents of my deep despair ;
Disdain and scorn, your downfall do consent :
Tell to the World, She is unkind, yet fair.
O Eyes, close up those ever-running fountains !
For pitiless are all the tears you shed ;
Wherewith you watered have both dales and mountains.
I see, I see remorse from her is fled.
Pack hence, ye Sighs, into the empty air !
Into the air that none your sound may hear.
Sith cruel CHLORIS hath of you no care
(Although she once esteemed you full dear) ;
Let sable night all your disgraces cover !
Yet truer sighs were never sighed by lover.
SONNET XLIII.
|HOU glorious Sun (from whence my lesser light
The substance of his crystal shine doth borrow)
Let these my moans find favour in thy sight,
And with remorse extinguish now my sorrow \
Renew those lamps which thy disdain hath quenched,
As PHCEBUS doth his sister PHCEBE'S shine :
Consider how thy CORIN, being drenched
In seas of woe, to thee his plaints incline !
And at thy feet, with tears, doth sue for grace ;
Which art the goddess of his chaste desire.
Let not thy frowns, these labours poor deface '.
Although aloft they at the first aspire.
And time shall come, as yet unknown to men,
When I more large thy praises forth shall pen.
th.
596
CHLORIS. 197
SONNET XLIV.
HEN I more large thy praises forth shall show,
That all the World thy beauty shall admire ;
Desiring that most sacred Nymph to know,
Which hath the Shepherd's fancy set on fire.
Till then, my dear, let these thine eyes content
Till then, fair Love, think if I merit favour !
Till then, O let thy merciful assent
Relish my hopes with some comforting savour !
So shall you add such courage to my Muse,
That she shall climb the steep Parnassus' Hill :
That learned Poets shall my deeds peruse,
When I from thence obtained have more skill.
And what I sing shall always be of thee,
As long as life, or breath, remains in me.
SONNET XLV.
HEN she was born, whom I entirely love,
Th' immortal gods, her birth-rites forth to grace,
Descending from their glorious seat above ;
They did on her, these several virtues place :
First SATURN gave to her Sobriety ;
JOVE then endued her with Comeliness ;
And SOL with Wisdom did her beautify ;
MERCURY with Wit and Knowledge did her bless ;
VENUS with Beauty did all parts bedeck ;
LUNA therewith did Modesty combine ;
DIANA chaste, all loose desires did check ;
And like a lamp in clearness she doth shine.
But MARS, according to his stubborn kind,
No virtue .save ; but a disdainful mind.
198 C rt L O R 1 S. [W-S?5
SONNET XLVI.
HEN CHLORIS first, with her heart-robbing eye,.
Enchanted had my silly senses all ;
I little did respect LOVE'S cruelty :
I never thought his snares should me enthrall.
But since her tresses have entangled me,
My pining' flock did never hear me sing
Those jolly notes, which erst did make them glee ;
Nor do my kids about me leap and spring
As they were wont : but when they hear my cry
They likewise cry, and fill the air with bleating.
Then do my sheep upon the cold earth lie,
And feed no more. My griefs they are repeating.
0 CHLORIS, if thou then sawest them and me,
1 am sure thou would'st both pity them and me 1
SONNET XLVI I.
UT of thy heart too cruel I thee tell,
Which hath tormented my young budding age ;
And doth, (unless your mildness, passions quell)
My utter ruin near at hand presage.
Instead of blood, which wont was to display
His ruddy red upon my hairless face ;
By over-grieving, that is fled away :
Pale dying colour there hath taken place.
Those curled locks, which thou wast wont to twisty
Unkempt, unshorn, and out of order been ;
Since my disgrace, I had of them no list,
Since when, these eyes no joyful day have seen :
Nor never shall, till you renew again
The mutual love which did possess us twain.
\VT. Smith.-]
I596.J
C H L O R 1 S.
199
SONNET XLVIII.
Ou that embrace enchanting Poesy,
Be gracious to perplexed CORIN'S lines !
You that do feel Love's proud authority,
Help me to sing my sighs and sad designs !
CHLORIS, requite not faithful love with scorn !
But, as thou oughtest, have commiseration.
I have enough anatomized and torn
My heart, thereof to make a pure oblation.
Likewise consider how thy CORIN prizeth
Thy parts above each absolute perfection !
How he, of every precious thing deviseth,
To make thee Sovereign ! Grant me then affection !
Else thus I prize thee, CHLORIS is alone
More hard than gold, or pearl, or precious stone.
SONNET XLIX.
OLIN, I know that, in thy lofty wit,
Thou wilt but laugh at these my youthful lines ;
Content I am, they should in silence sit,
Obscured from light to sing their sad designs.
But that it pleased thy grave Shepherdhood,
The Patron of my maiden verse to be ;
When I in doubt of raging envy stood :
And now I weigh not who shall CHLORIS see !
For fruit before it comes to full perfection
But blossoms is, as every man doth know :
So these, being blooms, and under thy protection,
In time I hope to ripeness more will grow.
And so I leave thee to thy worthy Muse ;
Desiring thee, all faults here to excuse.
FINIS.
20O
[? THOMAS DELONEY.]
[See Vol. VII., p. 36.]
The Spanish Ladys Love*
This Ballad was entered at Stationers' Hall in June 1603, and again
on I4th Dec. 1624. [ARBER. Transcript, &*c. III. 237 ; IV. 132.] It
was probably occasioned by some incident at the Winning of Cadiz, in
1596, described at Vol. VII., pp. 80-93 °f this Series.
THE FIRST PART.
ILL you hear a Spanish Lady, how she
wooed an Englishman ?
Garments gay, as rich as may be, bedecked
with jewels, had she on :
Of a comely countenance and grace
was she ;
Both by birth and parentage of
high degree.
As his prisoner there, he kept her; in his hands her life did lie.
CUPID'S bands did tie them faster by the liking of an eye.
In his courteous company was all her joy :
To favour him in anything she was not coy.
But, at last, there came commandment for to set all Ladies free,
With their jewels still adorned : none to do them injury.
" O then," said this Lady gay, " Full woe is me !
O let me still sustain this kind captivity !
" Gallant Captain, take some pity on a woman in distress ;
Leave me not within this city, for to die in heaviness !
Thou has set, this present day, my body free ;
But my heart in prison still remains with thee ! "
1T-?celTo£] THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. 201
"How shouldst thou, fair Lady, love me; whom thou know'st
thy country's foe ?
Thy fair words make me suspect thee. Serpents lie where
flowers grow ! "
, " All the harm I think on thee, most courteous Knight,
God grant upon my head the same may fully light !
*" Blest be the time and season that thou came on Spanish
ground !
If you may our foes be termed, gentle foes we have you
found :
With our city, you have won our hearts each one ;
Then to your country, bear away that is your own ! "
THE SECOND PART.
EST you still, most gallant Lady, rest you still and
weep no more !
Of fair flowers you have plenty. Spain doth yield
you wondrous store.
Spaniards fraught with jealousy we oft do find ;
But Englishmen throughout the world are counted kind?
" Leave me not unto a Spaniard ! Thou alone enjoy'st my
heart !
I am lovely, young, and tender. Love is likewise my desert
Still to save thee, day and night my mind is pressed :
The Wife of every Englishman is counted bles-sed."
•" It would be a shame, fair Lady, for to bear a Woman hence ;
English soldiers never carry any such without offence."
" I will quickly change myself, if it be so ;
And like a Page will follow thee, where'er thou go."
" / have neither gold nor silver to maintain thee in this case ;
And to travel is great charges, as you know, in every place?
" My chains and jewels every one shall be thy own !
And eke a hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown."
202 THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. [? T- ?ce'S
" On the seas are many dangers. Many storms do there arise,
Which will be, to Ladies dreadful ; and force tears from watery-
eyes"
" Well in worth, I shall endure extremity :
For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee ! "
" Courteous Lady, leave this folly ! Here comes all that breed?
the strife.
/, in England, have already a sweet woman to my Wife.
1 will not falsify my vow for gold, nor gain ;
Nor yet for all the fairest Dames that live in Spain ! ""
" O how happy is that woman that enjoys so true a friend !
Many happy days GOD send her ! and of my suit I'll make
an end.
On my knees, I pardon crave for my offence ;
Which Love and true Affection did first commence.
" Commend me to that gallant Lady ! Bear to her this Chain
of Gold,
With these Bracelets for a token ! grieving I was so bold.
All my jewels, in like sort, take thou with thee !
For they are fitting for thy Wife : but not for me.
41 1 will spend my days in prayer ! Love and all her laws defy I
In a Nunnery I will shroud me, far from any company !
But ere my prayer have an end ; be sure of this,
To pray for thee and for thy Love, I will not miss.
" Thus Farewell, most gallant Captain ! Farewell to my
heart's content !
Count not Spanish Ladies wanton ; though to thee my mind
was bent.
Joy and true prosperity remain with thee ! "
" The like fall unto thy share, most fair Lady /"
A very true Report of the apprehension
and taking of that arch-Papist EDMUNEX
CAMPION, the Pope his right hand; with
Three other lewd Jesuit Priests, and
divers other Lay people, most
seditious persons of like sort.
Containing also a controlment of a most untrue former
book set out by one A. M., alias ANTHONY MUNDAY,
concerning the same : as is to be proved and justified
by GEORGE ELLIOT, one of the Ordinary
Yeomen of Her Majesty's Chamber,
Author of this Book, and chiefest cause of the
finding of the said lewd and seditious people, great
enemies to GOD, their loving Prince,
and country.
Veritas non qucerit angulos.
Imprinted at London at the Three Cranes in the
Vintry by THOMAS DAWSON.
i 5 8.1.
2o6 THE KILLING OF ELIZABETH, NO MURDER ! f0-™^
Whereto PAYNE made answer, That the killing [of] Her
A most traitor- Majesty was no offence to GOD, nor the utter-
<>us and viiian- most cruelty they could use to her, nor [to] any
o" every true that took her part : but that they might as law-
readewithdue fully do it as to a brute beast. And himself
reverence of WOuld be one of the foremost in the executing: [of]
the person. . OLJ
[A.M.] this villanous and most traitorous action.
In Lansd. MS. 32, No. 60, in the British Museum, there is a paper to
the same effect, signed by G. E. [GEORGE ELLIOT]. It is headed
Certain Notes and Remembrances concerning a Reconciliation, dr°c. ;
and bears marginal notes by Lord BURGHLEY.
It will probably be new to most readers that ELLIOT'S arrest of
CAMPION was a pure matter of accident. ELLIOT went to Lyford
Manor House more particularly in search of PAYNE the Priest, and
found CAMPION there by chance. The Jesuit had been secretly, but
securely, wandering through the land from one Roman Catholic house
hold to another, for more than a year ; despite the utmost efforts of the
English Government to put their hands on him : and at last he becomes
their prisoner almost by a pure accident.
CAMPION was lodged in the Tower on the 22nd July 1581. Two days
later, ANTHONY MUNDAY'S Brief Discourse of the taking of EDMUND
CAMPION &°c., was entered at Stationers' Hall [ARBER, Transcript <&>{:.,
II. 397]. It was therefore very hurriedly written, and mainly from
information supplied by Master HUMPHREY FOSTER, High Sheriff of
Berkshire : who, being himself a Roman Catholic, had been very slack
at the capture of CAMPION [p. 214] ; but who, for his own protection,
puts a better face on things in MUNDAY'S hurriedly written Discourse,
&°c. See pages 207, 215, 217.
It is as a reply to this tract of MUNDAY'S, that ELLIOT wrote the
following Text in 1581. In February 1582, they were however good
friends again ; as will be seen at page 223.]
2O7
To the Christian Reader^
GEORGE ELLIOT wisheth
all due reverence.
JOME experience, Christian Reader, that I have
gathered by keeping company with such seditious
people as CAMPION and his associates are,
partly moveth me to write this book ; and
partly I am urged thereunto (although my
wisdom and skill be very slender to set down and pen
matter of less moment than this) for that I (being one of the
Two in Commission at that time from Her Highness's most
honourable Privy Council for the apprehending of the said
seditious CAMPION and such like ; and the chiefest cause
of the finding out of the said lewd people, as hereafter more
at large appeareth) do think it a great abuse that the most
part of Her Majesty's loving subjects shall be seduced to
believe an untruth ; and myself and he which was in
Commission with me (whose name is DAVID JENKINS, one
of the Messengers of Her Majesty's Chamber) very vilely
slandered with a book set out by one ANTHONY MUNDAY
concerning the apprehension of the said lewd people — which,
for the truth thereof, is almost as far different from truth ' as
darkness from light ; and as contrary to truth as an egg is
contrary in likeness to an oyster.
And therefore considering I am able to report a truth for
the manner of the finding and taking of the said seditious
persons ; although fine skill be far from me to paint it out :
hoping the wise will bear with my want therein, and esteem
a true tale, be it never so bluntly told, rather than a lie, be it
never so finely handled — I have emboldened myself to take
this treatise in hand ; wherein, God willing, I will describe
nothing but truth ; as by the sequel shall appear. Which
is this :
208 To THE CHRISTIAN READER. [[? N?;.f "^
That about four years past [?iS78], the Devil (being a
crafty fox and chief Patron doubtless of the Pope's Prelacy ;
having divers and many Officers and inferior substitutes to
the Pope, his chief Vicar ; and intending by them to increase
the kingdom of this Antichrist) dispersed his said Officers
in divers places of this realm : where, like vagrant persons
(refusing to live within the lawful government of their
country) they lead a loose life ; wandering and running
hither and thither, from shire to shire and country [County]
to country, with such store of Romish relics, Popish pelf,
trifles, and trash as were able to make any Christian heart,
that hath seen the trial of such practices as I have done,
even for sorrow to bleed. Only thereby to draw the
Queen's Majesty's subjects their hearts and faiths both from
GOD and Her Highness ; as namely, by delivering unto them
Bulls from Rome, Pardons, Indulgences ; Medals, Agnus DEI,
hallowed grains and beads, crucifixes, painted pictures, and
such other paltry : every part whereof they will not let \stop\
to say to be matters very necessary for salvation.
By reason whereof, most loving Reader, I myself, about
that time [1578], by the space of one quarter of a year
together, was deeply bewitched and drawn into their
darkness, as the blindest bayard of them all. But at the
last, even then (by GOD's great goodness, mighty providence,
and especial grace) all their enchantments, witchcrafts,
sorceries, devilish devices and practices were so broken and
untied in me ; and the brightness of GOD's divine majesty
shining so surely in my heart and conscience : that I perceived
all their doings to be, as they are indeed, only shows without
substance, manifest errors and deceitful juggling casts, and
none others.
Notwithstanding I determined with myself, for certain
causes which I omit, to sound the depth of their devilish
drifts, if I might ; and the rather therefore used and
frequented their company : whereby appeared unto me not
a few of their ungracious and villanous false hearts, faiths,
and disloyal minds, slanderous words, and most vile treasons
towards my most excellent and noble mistress, the Queen's
Majesty, and towards divers of her most honourable Privy
Council ; in such sort as many times did make mine eyes
to gush out with tears for very sorrow and fear to think of it.
t? N
To THE CHRISTIAN READER. 209
Wherefore, lately {about lAjh May 1581], I made my humble
submission unto the Right Honourable Her Highness's Privy
Council, for my unlawful living as aforesaid. At whose
hands I found such honourable dealing, and by their means
such mercy from Her Majesty, that I wish with all my
heart all the Papists, which are subjects born to Her Highness,
to run the same course that I have done : and then should
they easily see what difference there is between the good
and merciful dealing of our most gracious loving and natural
Prince ; and the great treacheries of that great enemy to
our country, the Pope. For Her Highness freely forgiveth
offenders ; but the Pope pardoneth for money. Her Grace's
hands are continually full of mercy, ready to deliver enough
freely to any that will desire and deserve it : and the Pope
his great clutches and fists are ready to deliver nothing but
devilish devices and paltry stuff of his own making, to set
country and country together by the ears ; and yet for
these, hath he money.
Truly it is a most lamentable case that ever any Christian
should be seduced and drawn from the true worshipping of
GOD, and their duty to their Prince and country ; as many
are by the Pope and his Satanical crew. I beseech GOD
turn their hearts, and grant us all amendment ; which can
neither be too timely, if it were presently ; nor never too
late, whensoever it shall happen : unless wilfully they proceed
in their dealings, which GOD forbid. For kumanum est
err are, perseverare belluinum,
Shortly after my submission and reconciliation, as aforesaid,
it pleased my Lords of Her Highness's most honourable
Privy Council to grant the Commission that I before spake
of, to myself and to the said DAVID JENKINS, for the
apprehension of certain lewd Jesuit Priests and other
seditious persons of like sort, wheresoever we should happen
to find them within England. Whereupon we determined
a certain voyage [journey] : in which EDMUND CAMPION the
aforesaid Jesuit and others were by us taken and brought to
the Tower of London, in manner as hereafter followeth.
ENG. GAR. VIII 14
210
The true manner of taking of "EDMUND
CAMPION and his associates.
T happened that after the receipt of our
Commission aforesaid, we consulted
between ourselves, What way were best
to take first ? For we were utterly
ignorant where, or in what place, certainly
to find out the said CAMPION, or his com
peers. And our consultation was shoitly
determined : for the greatest part of our
travail and dealings in this service did lie chiefly upon mine
own determination, by reason of mine acquaintance and
knowledge of divers of [the] like sect.
It then presently came to my remembrance of certain
acquaintance which I once had with one THOMAS COOPER
a Cook, who, in November [1578] was two years, served
Master THOMAS ROPER of [Orpington in] Kent ; where, at
that time, I in like manner served : and both of us, about the
same month [November 1578], departed the said Master
ROPER his service ; I into Essex, and the said COOPER to
Lyford in Berkshire, to one Master YATE. From whence,
within one half year after [before May 1579], I was adver
tised in Essex, that the said Cook was placed in service ;
and that the said Master YATE was a very earnest Papist,
and one that gave great entertainment to any of that sect.
Which tale, being told me in Essex two years before
[1579] we entered [on] this journey, by GOD's great good
ness, came to my memory but even the day before [i3th
July 1581] we set forth. Hereof I informed the said DAVID
JENKINS, being my fellow in Commission, and told him it
would be our best way to go thither first : for that it was
not meant that we should go to any place but where indeed
I either had acquaintance; or by some means possible in our
journey, could get acquaintance. And told him we would
dispose of our journey in such sort as we might come to the
nNov.fS] ELLIOT & JENKINS ARRIVE AT LYFORD. 21 1
said Master YATE'S upon the Sunday about eight of the
clock in the morning : " where," said I, " if we find the said
Cook, and that there be any Mass to be said there that day,
or any massing Priest in the house ; the Cook, for old
acquaintance and for that he supposeth me to be a Papist,
will bring me to the sight thereof."
And upon this determination, we set from London [on
Friday] the I4th day of July last ; and came to the said
Master YATE'S house, the i6th of the same month, being
Sunday, about the hour aforesaid.
Where, without the gates of the same house, we espied
one of the servants of the house, who most likely seemed, by
reason of his lying aloof, to be as it were a Scout Watcher,
that they within might accomplish their secret matters more
safely,
I called the said servant, and enquired of him for the
said THOMAS COOPER the Cook.
Who answered, That he could not well tell, whether he
were within or not.
I prayed him that he would friend me so much as to see ;
and told him my name.
The said servant did so, it seemed ; for the Cook came
forth presently unto us where we sat still upon horseback.
And after a few such speeches, as betwixt friend and friend
when they have been long asunder, were passed ; still sitting
upon our horses, I told him That I had longed to see him ;
and that I was then travelling into Derbyshire to see my
friends, and came so far out of my way to see him. And
said 1, " Now I have seen you, my mind is well satisfied ;
and so fare you well ! "
" No," saith he, " that shall you not do before dinner."
I made the matter very earnest to be gone ; and he, more
earnest and importune to stay me. But in truth I was as
willing to stay as he to have me.
And so, perforce, there was no remedy but stay we must.
And having lighted from horseback ; and being by him
brought into the house, and so into the buttery, and there
caused to drink : presently after, the said Cook came and
whispered with me, and asked, Whether my friend (meaning
the said JENKINS) were within the Church or not? Therein
meaning, Whether he were a Papist or no ?
212 ELLIOT HEARS CAMPION'S LAST SERMON. [[tN&JiSlr
To which I answered, " He was not ; but yet," said I, " he
is a very honest man, and one that wisheth well that way."
Then said the Cook to me, " Will you go up ? " By which
speech, I knew he would bring me to a Mass.
And I answered him and said, " Yea, for God's sake, that
let me do : for seeing I must needs tarry, let me take some
thing with me that is good."
Some men And so we left JENKINS in the buttery; and I
dissembling0' was brought by the Cook through the hall, the
the matter as i dining parlour, and two or three other odd rooms,
did : but to do , r • r • i i i i
ray Prince and and then into a fair large chamber : where there
vkeTFiioid'it was> at the same instant, one Priest, called SAT-
lawfuitouse WELL, saying Mass; two other Priests kneeling
any reasonable ' » °
policy. For the by, whereof one was CAMPION, and the other
aiwayfwon by called PETERS alias COLLINGTON \pr rather
COLLETON] ; three Nuns, and 37 other people.
When SATWELL had finished his Mass ; then CAMPION
he invested himself to say Mass, and so he did : and at the
end thereof, made holy bread and delivered it to the people
there, to every one some, together with holy water ; whereof
he gave me part also.
And then was there a chair set in the chamber something
beneath the Altar, wherein the said CAMPION did sit down ;
and there made a Sermon very nigh an hour long :
comm°snsionnin the effect of his text being, as I remember, " That
my hand to Christ wept over Jerusalem, &c." And so applied
have dealt with « . i • rT'ijr iJL.
them myself the same to this our country of England for that
chamber.116 if tne Pope his authority and doctrine did not so-
[ohuad-'ud Peray fl0111^^ here as the same CAMPION desired.
what had At the end of which Sermon, I gat down unto
happen, o ^ ^ JENKms SQ SQon as J CQuld For during
the time that the Masses and the Sermon were
made, JENKINS remained still beneath in the buttery or
hall ; not knowing of any such matter until I gave him some
intelligence [of] what I had seen.
And so we departed, with as convenient expedition as we
might, and came to one Master FETTIPLACE, a Justice of
the Peace in the said country \County\ : whom we made
privy of our doings therein ; and required him that, accord
ing to the tenour of our Commission, he would take sufficient
Power, and with us thither.
itM&.SsSt] SEARCH FOR CAMPION, &c., AT LYFORD. 213
Whereupon the said Justice of Peace, within one quarter
of an hour, put himself in a readiness, with forty or fifty men
very well weaponed : who went, in great haste, together with
the said Master FETTIPLACE and us, to the said Master
YATE his house.
Where, at our coming upon the sudden, being about one
of the clock in the afternoon of the same day, before we
knocked at the gates which were then (as before they were
continually accustomed to be) fast shut (the house being
moated round about ; within which moat was great store of
fruit trees and other trees, with thick hedge rows : so that
the danger for fear of losing of the said CAMPION and his
associates was the more doubted) ; we beset the house with
our men round about the moat in the best sort we could
devise : and then knocked at the gates, and were presently
heard and espied ; but kept out by the space of half an hour.
In which time, as it seemeth, they had hidden CAMPION
and the other two Priests in a very secret place within the
said house ; and had made reasonable purveyance for him
as hereafter is mentioned : and then they let us into the
house.
Where came presently to our sight, Mrs YATE, the good
wife of the house ; five Gentlemen, one Gentlewoman, and
three Nuns : the Nuns being then disguised in one Nun got
Gentlewomen's apparel, not like unto that they ™ya*£f°un'
heard Mass in. All which I well remembered to have apparel,
seen, the same morning, at the Masses and Sermon aforesaid :
yet every one of them a great while denied it. And especially
the said Mistress YATE ; who could not be content Mistress YATE
only to make a plain denial of the said Masses and ^UMI™*
the Priests : but, with great and horrible oaths, for- "-""^ ^°rh ^
sware the same, betaking herself to the Devil if search.
any such there were ; in such sort as, if I had not seen them
-with mine own eyes, I should have believed her. Master YATE
But knowing certainly that these were but bare h^fs'stln', to
excuses, and that we should find the said P"SO" '" ,
.-, • « - • r t Reading, for
CAMPION and his compeers if we made narrow Papistry.
search ; I eftsoons put Master FETTIPLACE in remembrance
of our Commission : and so he, myself, and the said JENKINS
Her Majesty's Messenger, went to searching the house ;
where we found many secret corners.
214 JENKINS FINDS CAMPION'S HIDING PLACE. [[tN?v.?Sj
Continuing the search, although with no small toil, in the
orchards, hedges, and ditches, within the moat and divers
other places; atthe last [we] found out Master EDWARD YATE,
brother to the good man of the house, and two countrymen
called WEBLIN and MANSFIELD, fast locked together in a
pigeon house : but we could not find, at that time, CAMPION
and the other two Priests whom we specially sought for.
It drew then something towards evening, and doubting
lest we were not strong enough ; we sent our Commission to
one Master FOSTER, High Sheriff of Berkshire ; and to one
Master WISEMAN, a Justice of Peace within the same
County ; for some further aid at their hands.
The said Master WISEMAN came with very good speed
unto us the same evening, with ten or twelve of his own
men, very able men and well appointed : but the said
Master FOSTER could not be found, as the messenger that
went for him returned us answer.
And so the said house was beset the same night with at
the least three score men well weaponed ; who watched the
same very diligently.
And the next day, being Monday [i/th July 1581], in the
morning very early, came one Master CHRISTOPHER
LYDCOT, a Justice of Peace of the same shire, with a great
sort [company] of his own men, all very well appointed : who,
together with his men, shewed such earnest loyal and for
ward service in those affairs as was no small comfort and
encouragement to all those which were present, and did bear
true hearts and good wills to Her Majesty.
The same morning, began a fresh search for the said
Priests ; which continued with very great labour until about
ten of the clock in the forenoon of the same day : but the
said Priests could not be found, and every man [was] almost
persuaded that they were not there.
Yet still searching, although in effect clean void of any
hope for finding of them, the said DAVID JENKINS, by
GOD's great goodness, espied a certain secret place,* which
* In MUNDAY'S Brief Discourse, &°c. [24 July 1581] there is a
description of this " secret place " ; which may be correct as to its situa
tion in the Manor House at Lyford :
A chamber, near the top of the house ; which was but very simple :
having in it a large °reat shelf with divers tools and instruments both
[?NOT.S:] THE THREE PRIESTS YIELD THEMSELVES. 215
he quickly found to be hollow ; and with a pin of iron which
he had in his hand much like unto a harrow tine, he forth
with did break a hole into the said place : where
then presently he perceived the said Priests lying COT w» then
all close together upon a bed, of purpose there hardby-
laid for them ; where they had bread, meat, and drink suffi
cient to have relieved them three or four days together.
The said JENKINS then called very loudly, and said,
"I have found the traitors!"; and presently company
enough was with him : who there saw the said Priests
[that], when there was no remedy for them but nolens i>olcnst
courteously yielded themselves.
Shortly after came one Master READE, another Justice
of the Peace of the said shire, to be assistant in these affairs.
Of all which matters, news was immediately carried in
great haste to the Lords of the Privy Council : First myself
who gave further Commission that the said Priests th^court1"
and certain others their associates should be ™* 's^er me»
brought to the Court under the conduction of Messenger.
myself and the said JENKINS ; with commandment to
the Sheriff to deliver us sufficient aid forth of his shire,
for the safe bringing up of the said people.
After that the rumour and noise for the finding out
of the said CAMPION, SATWELL, and PETERS alias
COLLINGTON, was in the said house something assuaged ;
and that the sight of them was to the people there no
great novelty : then was the said High Sheriff sent for
once again ; who all that while had not been seen ANTHONY
in this service. But then came, and received into ThTsheYriffth'
his charge the said Priests and certain others and his men
from that day until Thursday following. sgtructioasfor
The fourth Priest which was by us brought up ^"1"! ™-
to the Tower, whose name is WILLIAM FlLBlE, true book.
upon it, and hanging by it ; which they judged to belong to some cross
bow maker. The simpleness of the place caused them to use small
suspicion in it : and [they] were departing out again ; but one in the
company, by good hap, espied a chink in the wall of boards whereto
this shelf was fastened, and through the same he perceived some light.
Drawing his dagger, he smit a great hole in it ; and saw there was a
room behind it : whereat the rest stayed, searching for some entrance
into it ; which by pulling down a shelf they found, being a little hole fo>-
one to creep in at.
214 JENKINS FINDS CAMPION'S HIDING PLACE. [^N^.fS;
Continuing the search, although with no small toil, in the
orchards, hedges, and ditches, within the moat and divers
other places; atthe last [we] found out Master EDWARD YATE,
brother to the good man of the house, and two countrymen
called WEBLIN and MANSFIELD, fast locked together in a
pigeon house : but we could not find, at that time, CAMPION
and the other two Priests whom we specially sought for.
It drew then something towards evening, and doubting
lest we were not strong enough ; we sent our Commission to
one Master FOSTER, High Sheriff of Berkshire ; and to one
Master WISEMAN, a Justice of Peace within the same
County ; for some further aid at their hands.
The said Master WISEMAN came with very good speed
unto us the same evening, with ten or twelve of his own
men, very able men and well appointed : but the said
Master FOSTER could not be found, as the messenger that
went for him returned us answer.
And so the said house was beset the same night with at
the least three score men well weaponed ; who watched the
same very diligently.
And the next day, being Monday [i7th July 1581], in the
morning very early, came one Master CHRISTOPHER
LYDCOT, a Justice of Peace of the same shire, with a great
sort [company} of his own men, all very well appointed : who,
together with his men, shewed such earnest loyal and for
ward service in those affairs as was no small comfort and
encouragement to all those which were present, and did bear
true hearts and good wills to Her Majesty.
The same morning, began a fresh search for the said
Priests ; which continued with very great labour until about
ten of the clock in the forenoon of the same day : but the
said Priests could not be found, and every man [was] almost
persuaded that they were not there.
Yet still searching, although in effect clean void of any
hope for finding of them, the said DAVID JENKINS, by
GOD's great goodness, espied a certain secret place,* which
* In MUNDAY'S Brief Discourse, &c. [24 July 1581] there is a
description of this " secret place " ; which may be correct as to its situa
tion in the Manor House at Lyford :
A chamber, near the top of the house ; which was but very simple :
having in it a lara:e °reat shelf with divers tools and instruments both
nN^vTls's!'.] THE THREE PRIESTS YIELD THEMSELVES. 215
he quickly found to be hollow ; and with a pin of iron which
he had in his hand much like unto a harrow tine, he forth
with did break a hole into the said place : where
then presently he perceived the said Priests lying Cor was then
all close together upon a bed, of purpose there hardby-
laid for them ; where they had bread, meat, and drink suffi
cient to have relieved them three or four days together.
The said JENKINS then called very loudly, and said,
"I have found the traitors!"; and presently company
enough was with him : who there saw the said Priests
[that], when there was no remedy for them but nolens volens*
courteously yielded themselves.
Shortly after came one Master READE, another Justice
of the Peace of the said shire, to be assistant in these affairs.
Of all which matters, news was immediately carried in
great haste to the Lords of the Privy Council : First myself
who gave further Commission that the said Priests [^Court*0
and certain others their associates should be ^ -s^er me»
brought to the Court under the conduction of Messenger.
myself and the said JENKINS ; with commandment to
the Sheriff to deliver us sufficient aid forth of his shire,
for the safe bringing up of the said people.
After that the rumour and noise for the rinding out
of the said CAMPION, SATWELL, and PETERS alias
COLLINGTON, was in the said house something assuaged ;
and that the sight of them was to the people there no
great novelty : then was the said High Sheriff sent for
once again ; who all that while had not been seen ANTHONY
in this service. But then came, and received into xheNsheYHffith'
his charge the said Priests and certain others and his men
from that day until Thursday following. Jm£tkm»te
The fourth Priest which was by us brought up oflhe'sald un
to the Tower, whose name is WILLIAM FlLBiE, t™ebook.
upon it, and hanging by it ; which they judged to belong to some cross
bow maker. The simpleness of the place caused them to use small
suspicion in it : and [they] were departing out again ; but one in the
company, by good hap, espied a chink in the wall of boards whereto
this shelf was fastened, and through the same he perceived some light.
Drawing his dagger, he smit a great hole in it ; and saw there was a
room behind it : whereat the rest stayed, searching for some entrance
into it ; which by pulling down a shelf they found, being a little hole fcv
one to creep in at.
216 CAMPION, &c., BROUGHT TO THE TOWER. [I?N^.fIusiS:
was not taken with the said CAMPION and the rest in
the said house : but was apprehended and taken in our
watch [on the ijtk], by chance, in coming to the said house
to speak with the said PETERS [or COLLETON], as he
said ; and thereupon [was] delivered likewise in charge to
the Sheriff, with the rest.
Upon Thursday, the 2Oth day of July last [1581], we
set forwards from the said Master YATE his house towards
the Court, with our said charge ; being assisted by the
said Master LYDCOT and Master WISEMAN, and a great
sort [company] of their men ; who never left us until we
came to the Tower of London. There were besides, that
guarded us thither, 50 or 60 Horsemen ; very able men and
well appointed : which we received by the said Sheriff
his appointment.
We went that day to Henley upon Thames, where we
lodged that night.
o o
And about midnight we were put into great fear by
reason of a very great cry and noise that the said FlLBlE
made in his sleep ; which wakened the most that were
that night in the house, and that in such sort that every
man almost thought that some of the prisoners had been
broken from us and escaped ; although there was in and
about the same house a very strong watch appointed and
charged for the same. The aforesaid Master LYDCOT was
the first that came unto them : and when the matter was
examined, it was found no more but that the said FlLBlE
was in a dream ; and, as he said, he verily thought one
to be a ripping down his body and taking out his bowels.
The next day, being Friday [2 1st July 1581], we set
forward from Henley. And by the way received command
ment by a Pursuivant from the Lords of the Privy Council,
that we should stay that night at Colebrook ; and the
next day after, being Saturday, to bring them through
the city of London unto the Tower, and there to deliver
them into the charge of Sir OWEN HOPTON Knight, Her
Majesty's Lieutenant of the same; which accordingly we
did.
And this is, in effect, the true discourse [of] that was
used in the apprehension of the said CAMPION and his
associates.
t?Nw.?SJi] SOME MAY MARVEL AT MY LONG SILENCE. 2I/
Some men may marvel that I would be silent so long
for the setting out of the manner of their takings ; con
sidering I find myself aggrieved with the same untrue report
set out before by the said A. M[UNDAY]. In good faith
I meant nothing less than to take any such matter in
hand, if so great an untruth had not been published against
us that were doers in those affairs ; and besides hitherto
divers other weightier business has partly hindered me
therein.
But now at the last, although very late, I have rudely
set down the verity in this matter : thinking it better to
tell a true tale by leisure, than a lie in haste ; as the
said A. M., by his former book, hath done to his own
discredit, the deluding of Her Majesty's liege people, and
the slander of some which have intermeddled in the said
cause.
218
The names of those that were taken and brought up to>
the Tower of London, as aforesaid.
i. EDWARD CAMPION,
Jesuit and Priest.
2. THOMAS SATWELL [alias FOORDJA
3. JOHN PETERS alias COLLINGTON I
n > Priests.
\or more properly COLLETON],
4. WILLIAM FILBIE, /
5. EDWARD YATE,
6. EDWARD KEYNES, .
7. HUMPHREY KEYNES,
8. JOHN COTTON,
9. WILLIAM ILSLEY [or HILDESLEY],
10. JOHN JACOB [or JAMES], .
\ Gentlemen.
11. JOHN MANSFIELD, . . . | Husbandmen and
12. WILLIAM WEBLIN [or WESLEY],- j Neighbours thereby.
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220 T. ROPER COMMITTED THROUGH ELLIOT. Qu&.$55l;
and what her meaning was, let the world judge. But let
the Devil, the Pope, and them do what they can ; my faith
standeth so sure on CHRIST JESUS my Saviour, that through
him I defy them all.
There hath been great murmuring and grudging against
me about the committing of the aforesaid Master THOMAS
ROPER ; and many faults have been found for the same.
What I did therein I mean not here to recite : but my
dealings in those causes are known to such as before
whom I think the fault finders dare not shew their faces.
But whatsoever I did against him, I would have done
against mine own father ; the case standing as it did.
Yet such find-faults, to make the matter seem more
odious to the World against me, do not stick to report
and say, That the said Master ROPER hath brought me
up from my childhood to this day at his only charges.
Which is so false as GOD is true. For although I was
his servant ; I continued with him, in all, not past one
year.
But to conclude. A great number of such like untruths
have been published against me, and no few bold brags ;
as report goeth. I could name some if I would : but I
let them pass ; unless I be commanded to the contrary
by such as have authority to deal with me therein. GOD
grant them amendment, I mean not towards myself; or
else make their doings known in such sort as they may
have their deservings ; or at least be put to the mercy of
Her Majesty : to whose Highness, JESUS send long life, a
prosperous reign, with all joy and felicity !
GEORGE ELLIOT.
Tmprinted at London at the Three Cranes in the Vintry,
by THOMAS DAWSON.
1581.
221
On 12 March 1582, there was entered for publication at Stationers'
Hall [ARBER, Transcript &c., II. 408.] A brief Answer made unto
two seditious Pamphlets. By A. M. [ANTHONY MUNDAY.] The
Preface to the Reader is however dated " From Barbican, the 22 of
March 1582."
We give here the beginning of this Answer ; the side notes being, of
course, the comments of ANTHONY MUNDAY.
OT long after I had published [on 22
January 1582] my book called The Dis
covery of CAMPION ; there came unto my
hands a seditious pamphlet in the French
tongue, intituled The History of the
Death which the Reverend Father, Master
EDMUND CAMPION Priest, of the Society of
the name of JESUS, and others have suffered'
in England for the Catholic, or Romish, religion N°l for th.eir
*-* ** *•* religion * but
or faith, the 1st December 1581 ; adding underneath for High
Translated out of English into French. [AJM.""'
When I had thoroughly perused this book, noting the
traitorous effects and slanderous speeches therein contained,
receiving the judgment likewise of divers learned and godly
men : as well to correct the manifest untruths wherewith
this pamphlet is notably stuffed, as also that the godly and
virtuous may discern their apparent impudency and wicked
nature ; I resolved myself to shape a brief Answer to such
a shameless libel ; myself being therein untruly and
maliciously abused.
First, our nameless historiographer, because he would aim
his course after some odd manner of conveyance, The manner of
taketh occasion to begin his book with the taking JuSS*"
of CAMPION, his bringing to the Tower, what book- tA-M-l
happened in his time of stay there, and lastly his martyrdom
(as he termeth it) with two other holy and devout Priests ;
and, in this manner continuing his unadvised labour, he
beginneth as hereafter followeth :
•222 ELLIOT FALSELY ACCUSED OF A MURDER. [Mareh'S*
GEORGE ELLIOT (sometime servant to Master THOMAS
ROPER ; and since belonging to a Gentlewoman, the widow of
Sir WILLIAM PETRE: in whose service he made show to be a
sound and good Catholic) not long since committed a murder,
as men say : for which offence, fearing the danger
To build upon » • » *r » n a. 7 7 • »
hearsay that was like\ly\ to ensue, he went and submitted
siMider fou'nd- himself to one of the chief Lords in the Court ; and,
anon. [A.M.] ffog better to win his favour, on his own behalf
promised to deliver into his hands the Father EDMUND CAMPION.
This promise, saith he, was received ; and unto the said
GEORGE and an Officer, was delivered Commission to take and
apprehend the said EDMUND CAMPION.
Then went they on their way, and coming into Berkshire to
\the\ house of one Master YATE ; GEORGE ELLIOT met with
the Cook of the house with whom he was very well acquainted,
because they had before both served one Master.
His Master The Cook, thinking no ill, began to tell him many
gaoVateRenadh-e thing 's ; and that Father CAMPION was in the house
then hjowdge with his Master.
CAMPION Upon which report, GEORGE sent his fellow to the
could be within _ /. . „ . . • J A , 7
"with his Justice, who zvas a very great Calvimst. And he in
iier'[A.M.] mean ivhile was brought into the house by the said
Cook : where, like another JUDAS, traitor and disloyal, he first
attended the sacrifice of the Mass which was celebrated that
day by the Father EDMUND, as also a Sermon which he made.
In wliich time behold a good man came running, willing them
to take heed of a present treason.
Scantly was all carried away that had served for the Mass
and the Sermon ; but the Justice was there arrived with \a\
very great force, besetting the house round about, that none
should escape away.
After very diligent search through all the chambers and
other more secret places ; they were, determined to return, as not
finding anything, until they were advertised (either by GEORGE,
who had understood it of the Cook ; or by some other) of a
certain corner, more dark and subtle ; where tJiey found the
Father EDMUND and two other Priests hidden : who, the same
.day, with Gentlemen and other persons, zvere sent up to
London ; a spectacle of great joy unto their adversaries.
This much of our French historian's words, I thought
G. Elliot.
Teb.
'';] ELLIOT'S SERVICE WITH LADY PBTRE. 223
:good in this place to set down : because the disproof
thereto annexed may discover what truth all
By that which , _ , . f * . , ,
foiioweth, they of this sect frequent m any of their actions.
written by
GEORGE
•!eifL-IOconhsider This aforenamed GEORGE ELLIOT came home
the truth of this unto my lodging [? in Barbican, see page 221 ; and
report. [A.M.] - T- u o 1 t. T u J l. • ^u 1 j
in b ebruary 1502] ; where I shewed him the slanders
that were used of him in the French book.
Whereupon, taking good advice, and noting the circum
stances that so highly touched him ; upon his conscience,
he delivereth this unreprovable Answer.
GEORGE ELLIOT his Answer, to clear himself of the
former untrue Objections.
|BOUT three years since [? 1578] it was my for
tune to serve Master THOMAS ROPER of
[Orpington in] Kent. With whom I had not
stayed past eleven weeks, but PAYNE the Priest
(of whom mention is made [see page 205] in the
Discovery of CAMPION set forth by the Author of this book
\i.e. ANTHONY MUNDAY] ) inticed me [in November 1578]
from thence to serve my Lady PETRE, to whom the said
PAYNE served craftily as Steward of her house.
With her I continued almost two years [ ? Nov. 1578-
ISIov. 1580]. In which time, being myself bent
somewhat to that religion, frequenting the com- quent/th their
pany of a number of Papists, I perceived their SISThet3"
dealings to be. as they are indeed, full of wicked dealings dis-
° 11- • • 11 loyal and
treasons and unnatural dispositions, too bad to traitorous.
be named. The conceit whereof (examining
first my duty to GOD, next my love to my Princess
[Sovereign], and last the care of my country,) by the
grace and permission of GOD, offered me so great dis
liking of their dealings that, so warily and conveniently
as I might, I weaned my affection from their abominable
infection : nevertheless using their companies still, for that
it gave me the better occasion to see into the depth of their
horrible inventions.
224 THE COUNCIL WANT PAYNE THE PRIEST. [F^",^
From my Lady PET RE, in November was twelvemonth
[1580], by entreaty I came to Master ROPER'S again.
With whom I continued till Whitsuntide last [i4th May
1581], when my conscience hardly digesting such a weighty
burden as with their devices and practices it was very
sore ladened ; I was constrained to give over that slavish
kind of life, and humbly committed my reconciliation to
the Right Honourable and my good Lord, the Earl of
LEICESTER : to whom I made known the grievous estate
of my life which, for the space of four years, I had endured
amongst them.
Now whereas it hath pleased my adversary to set down
that I
committed a murder, and to avoid the danger of law
offered to the aforesaid my good Lord to deliver
unto him EDMUND CAMPION, thereby to obtain my
pardon.
How untrue this is, his Honour very well knoweth ; and so do
it is very un- a number more besides. For, in truth, I neither,
whichever6' as then, knew CAMPION, had never seen him in
hTaifhu ufcN a^ my ^e> nor knew where or in what place
nor knew he was, it is very unlike[ly] then I should make
rouldTmak**8' him any such promise. But that he may learn
Kh°im!set° another time to order his matters with more
forth. [A.M.] truth and discretion ; I will set down both how
I went, with what Commission, and to what intent : and
then let him have judgment according to the credit of his
Work:
When I had revealed the traitorous speeches of PAYNE
the Priest (how, and after what manner, you may read in
the book [by ANTHONY MUNDAY] before expressed [see
page 205] ) I was demanded, If I knew where he was at that
time ?
I could not make any certain answer.
Whereupon I was demanded again, If I would do my
endeavour to search him out ?
Whereto, according to my bounden duty, I agreed right
willingly.
Fe'b^S'.] ELLIOT HOPES TO MEET PAYNE AT LYFORD. 225
Then was I appointed, in company with DAVID JENKINS,
one of the Messengers of Her Majesty's Chamber ; 1 sawthe
and to us was delivered a Warrant to take and warrant my-
1 77 T-« • self; and
apprehend, not any one man, but all Priests, neither was
Jesuits, and such like seditious persons, as in pAYNE°o'rany
our journey we should meet withal. Neither was °hereh>™but«//
CAMPION, PAYNE, or any one man named in the Priests,
Warrant : for that as the one was judged hard to nuksidi&nu
be found ; so it was uncertain where to find him pers
[that] I knew well enough.
Wherefore remembering, when I served Master ROPER,
that there was one THOMAS COOPER a Cook, who
served him likewise, and also knew the aforesaid PAYNE ;
to him I thought good to go, because I had understanding
that he dwelt at Lyford in Berkshire with one Master
YATE who was a very earnest Papist and gave great enter
tainment to all of that sect : thinking as it might so fall
out that we either might find the said PAYNE there, or else
understand where he was. And considering the generality
[comprehensiveness] of our Warrant, some other Priests
might chance to be there ; in respect that he was such
a host for all of that disposition.
When we came to Lyford, and had talked with this
aforesaid THOMAS COOPER ; we were framing ourselves to
depart thence, not having been within the house at all.
But he desiring us to stay dinner, we alighted and went
in with him ; he not telling me that
CAMPION was there with his Master
for he [Master YA TE\ was then in the gaol at Reading ; or
any other Priest : though it hath pleased our nameless
Author to write so.
When we were within the house, this COOPER brought
us into the buttery : where he, whispering me in A ho]y kind of
the ear, demanded, If my fellow were within the ^"^the
Church or no ? as much to say as, Whether he Devil a vicar,
was a Papist or no ?
I answered, " He was not ; yet nevertheless," quoth I,
" he is a very honest man, and one that wisheth well that
way."
Then said the Cook, " Will you go up ? "
Hereby I understood that he would bring me to a Mass
ENG. GAR. VIII. I 5
226 ELLIOT'S FIRST SIGHT OF CAMPION. [^".JJE;
Whereto I consenting, leaving DAVID JENKINS in the
buttery, he brought me up : where, after one SATWELL alias
FoORD had said Mass, CAMPION prepared himself to say
Mass. And there was the first time that ever 1 saw
CAMPION in all my life : not having heard by any that
he was there in the house, before I was brought up into the
chamber.
As concerning how he was taken, how he was brought
up to London, and how all things passed in that service ;
I have already set down in my book imprinted : which
conferring with his false report, you shall find it as much to
differ as truth doth from falsehood.
This have I thought good here to set down, in the
reproof of him who hath published such a manifest untruth :
and as concerning what I have reported to be spoken
by PAYNE, I am ready at all times to justify it with
my death, that they are his words according as he spake
them.
By me GEORGE ELLIOT.
The Copy of a Letter lately written
in metre by a young Gentlewoman
to her inconstant Lover.
WITH
An Admonition to all young Gentlewomen
and to all other Maids in general,
to beware of Men's flattery.
BY
Is. W.
NEWLY JOINED TO
A Love Letter sent by a Bachelor,
a most faithful Lover, to an unconstant
and faithless Maiden.
Imprinted at London
by Richard Jones ; dwelling in the
upper end of Fleet lane,
at the sign of the
Spread Eagle.
228
The Printer to the Reader.
HAT lack you, Master mine ?
some trifle that is true ?
Why then, this same will serve your turn ;
the which is also new.
Or if you mind to read
some Fables that be feigned :
Buy this same book ! and ye shall find
such in the same contained.
Perchance, my words be thought
uncredible to you ;
Because I say this Treatise is
both false and also true.
The matter of itself
is true, as many know :
And in the same, some feigned tales
the Author doth bestow.
Therefore buy this same book
of him that here doth dwell ;
And you, I know, will say you have
bestowed your money well.
Farewell.
229
Is. W.
To her unconstant Lover .
S close as you your wedding kept,
yet now the truth I hear :
Which you, ere now, might me have told.
What need you " Nay ! " to swear ?
You know I always wished you well ;
so will I during life !
But sith you shall a Husband be ;
GOD send you a good Wife !
And this, whereso you shall become,
full boldly may you boast :
That once you had as true a Love
as dwelt in any coast.
Whose constantness had never quailed,
if you had not begun :
And yet it is not so far past,
but might again be won.
If you so would, yea and not change
so long as life should last :
But if that needs you marry must ;
then Farewell ! Hope is past !
And if you cannot be content
to lead a single life,
Although the same right quiet be :
then take me to your Wife !
230 Is. W. TO HER UNCONSTANT LOVER.
So shall the promises be kept
that you so firmly made :
Now choose, Whether ye will be true,
or be of SINON'S trade ?
Whose trade if that you long shall use,
it shall your kindred stain ! .
Example take by many a one,
whose falsehood now is plain.
As by ENEAS, first of all,
who did poor DlDO leave ;
Causing the Queen by his untruth,
with sword her heart to cleave.
Also I find that THESEUS did
his faithful Love forsake ;
Stealing away within the night,
before she did awake.
JASON, that came of noble race,
two Ladies did beguile :
I muse how he durst show his face
to them that knew his wile.
For when he, by MEDEA'S art,
had got the Fleece of Gold ;
And also had of her, that time,
all kinds of things he would :
He took his ship, and fled away ;
regarding not the vows
That he did make so faithfully
unto his loving Spouse.
ISiS66'.] IS. W. TO HER UNCONSTANT LOVER. 23!
How durst he trust the surging seas,
knowing himself forsworn ?
Why did he 'scape safe to land
before the ship was torn ?
I think King /EOLUS stayed the winds,
and NEPTUNE ruled the sea ;
Then might he boldly pass the waves :
no perils could him slay.
But if his falsehood had to them
been manifest before ;
They would have rent the ship as soon
as he had gone from shore.
Now may you hear how falseness is
made manifest in time ;
Although they that commit the same
think it a venial crime.
For they, for their unfaithfulness,
did get perpetual fame.
Fame ! Wherefore did I term it so ?
I should have called it shame.
Let THESEUS be ! let JASON pass !
let PARIS also 'scape,
That brought destruction unto Troy,
all through the Grecian rape.
And unto me a TROILUS be !
If not, you may compare
With any of these persons that
above expressed are.
232 Is. VV. TO HER UNCONSTANT LOVER.
But if I cannot please your mind,
for wants that rest in me :
Wed whom you list ! I am content
your refuse for to be.
It shall suffice me, simple soul,
of thee to be forsaken :
And it may chance, although not yet,
you wish, you had me taken.
But rather than you should have cause
to wish this, through your Wife :
I wish to her, ere you her have,
no more but loss of life.
For she that shall so happy be,
of thee to be elect ;
I wish her virtues to be such,
she need not be suspect !
I rather wish her HELEN'S face,
than one of HELEN'S trade !
With chasteness of PENELOPE,
the which did never fade.
A LUCRECE for her constancy,
and THISBE for her truth !
If such thou have, then PETO be :
not PARIS, that were ruth !
Perchance, ye will think this thing rare
in one woman to find.
Save HELEN'S beauty, all the rest
the gods have me assigned.
IS. W. TO HER UNCONSTANT LOVER.
These words I do not speak, thinking
from thy new Love to turn thee !
Thou knowest by proof what I deserve !
I need not to inform thee.
But let that pass ! Would God 1 had
CASSANDRA'S gift me lent !
Then either thy ill chance, or mine,
my foresight might prevent.
But all in vain for this I seek.
Wishes may not attain it !
Therefore may hap to me what shall ;
and I cannot refrain it.
Wherefore I pray, GOD be my guide,
and also thee defend !
No worser than I wish myself,
until thy life shall end !
Which life, I pray GOD, may again
King NESTOR'S life renew !
And after that, your soul may rest
amongst the heavenly crew !
Thereto I wish King XERXES'S wealth,
or else King CROZSUS'S gold !
With as much rest and quietness
as man may have on mold !
And when you shall this letter have
let it be kept in store !
For she that sent the same, hath sworn
as yet to send no more.
234 To ALL YOUNG GENTLEWOMEN, [Is^;
And now, "Farewell!" For why? At large
my mind is here exprest :
The which you may perceive, if that
you do peruse the rest.
FINIS.
IS. W.
The Admonition by the Author to all young
Gentlewomen, and to all other Maids ^
being in love.
E Virgins, that from CUPID'S tents
do bear away the foil !
Whose hearts as yet with raging love
most painfully do boil :
To you, I speak ! For you be they
that good advice do lack ;
O if I could good counsel give,
my tongue should not be slack !
But such as I can give, I will
here in a few words express :
Which if you do observe, it will
some of your care redress.
Beware of fair and painted talk !
Beware of flattering tongues !
The Mermaids do pretend no good,
for all their pleasant Songs !
Some use the tears of crocodiles,
contrary to their heart :
And if they cannot always weep,
they wet their cheeks by Art.
Is. W.-]
I566.J
AND TO ALL OTHER MAIDS. 235
OVID, within his Art of Love,
doth teach them this same knack :
To wet their hand, and touch their eyes ;
as oft as tears they lack.
Why have ye such deceit in store ?
have you such crafty wile ?
Less craft than this, God knows, would
soon
us simple souls beguile !
But will ye not leave off; but still
delude us in this wise?
Sith it is so, we trust we shall
take heed to feigned lies.
Trust not a man at the first sight !
but try him well before :
I wish all Maids, within their breasts,
to keep this thing in store.
For trial shall declare this truth,
and show what he doth think :
Whether he be a Lover true,
or do intend to shrink.
If SCYLLA had not trust too much
before that she did try ;
She could not have been clean forsake,
When she for help did cry.
Or if she had had good advice,
NlSUS had lived long !
How durst she trust a stranger, and
do her dear father wrong: !
236 To ALL YOUNG GENTLEWOMEN,
King NlSUS had a hair by fate ;
which hair while he did keep,
He never should be overcome,
neither on land nor deep.
The stranger, that the daughter loved,
did war against the King ;
And always sought how that he might
them in subjection bring.
This SCYLLA stole away the hair,
for to obtain her will :
And gave it to the stranger, that
did straight her father kill.
Then she, who thought herself most sure
to have her whole desire,
Was clean reject, and left behind ;
When he did home retire.
Or if such falsehood had been once
unto QENONE known ;
About the fields of Ida wood,
PARIS had walked alone !
Or if DEMOPHOON'S deceit,
to PHILLIS had been told ;
She had not been transformed so,
as Poets tell of old.
HERO did try LEANDER'S truth
before that she did trust ;
Therefore she found him unto her
both constant true and just.
AND TO ALL OTHER MAIDS. 237
For he always did swim the sea,
when stars in sky did glide ;
Till he was drowned by the way,
near hand unto the side.
She scratched] her face, she tare her hair,
it grieveth me to tell,
When she did know the end of him
that she did love so well.
But like LEANDER there be few ;
therefore, in time, take heed !
And always try before ye trust !
so shall you better speed.
The little fish that careless is
within the water clear,
How glad is he, when he doth see
a bait for to appear !
He thinks his hap right good to be,
that he the same could spy ;
And so the simple fool doth trust
too much before he try.
O little fish, what hap hadst thou,
to have such spiteful fate !
To come into one's cruel hands,
out of so happy state.
Thou didst suspect no harm, when thou
upon the bait didst look :
O that thou hadst had LYNCEUS'S eyes,
for to have seen the hook !
238 To ALL YOUNG GENTLEWOMEN.
Then hadst thou, with thy pretty mates,
been playing in the streams ;
Where as Sir PHOEBUS daily doth
shew forth his golden beams
But sith thy fortune is so ill
to end thy life on shore ;
Of this, thy most unhappy end,
I mind to speak no more.
But of thy fellow's chance that late
such pretty shift did make
That he, from fisher's hook did sprint
before he could him take.
And now he pries on every bait,
suspecting still that prick
For to lie hid in everything,
wherewith the fishers strike.
And since the fish, that reason lacks,
once warned, doth beware :
Why should not we take heed to that
that turneth us to care.
And I, who was deceived late
by one's unfaithful tears,
Trust now for to beware, if that
I live this hundred years.
IS. W.
FINIS.
A Love Letter,
or an earnest persuasion of a Lover,
sent, of late, to a young Maiden ;
to whom he was betrothed:
Who, afterward, being overcome with
flattery, she seemed utterly to swerve
from her former promise, without
occasion; and so to
forsake him.
By W. G.
240
W, G.
A Love Letter sent from a faithful Lover y
to an unconstant Maiden*
S duty wills, so Nature moves
thy friend these lines to write
Wherein thy fraud, O faithless Thou !
I mind to bring to light.
Can plighted faith, so firmly plight,
without desert be moved ?
Or should the man that faithful is,
so slenderly be loved ?
Should hate his guerdon thus remain
in place of thy goodwill ?
Should rigour reign within thy breast,
to vanquish reason's skill ?
Should faith, to falsehood so be changed ?
alas, the greater ruth,
When double dealing is preferred
before the perfect truth !
If case such hap as recompense
unto your friend you yield,
What bulwark canst thou claim
'gainst GOD thyself to shield ?
Can they that sit in hau[gh]ty heavens,
such covert guilt abide ?
Or are they partial now, deemst thou ?
is Justice thrown aside ?
Ri566:] A LOVE LETTER SENT TO A MAIDEN. 241
Nay, just are they, and justice still,
as just, they justly use :
And unto them, as guiltless then,
canst thou thyself excuse ?
No, no ; not so, for they behold
thy double deeds, be sure !
No forged style, nor flatt'ring phrase,
their favour may allure.
No gifts, no gold, can them corrupt ;
such justice there doth reign :
And they that disobey their 'nests,
are subject unto pain.
These are no novel news I tell,
the proof is plainly known :
To such as do offend their wills,
their power forth is shown.
They see thy conscience guilty is ;
thy faithless fraud they see :
And think'st thou then, this guilt of thine
can unrewarded be ?
O FAITH, think not so far to wish
from reason's limits pure !
But judge thyself, what justice they
to sinful ones inure.
And thyself such doom shall give,
as guilty shalt thou find :
Therefore relent, and once again
thy grudging conscience mind !
ENG. GAR. VIII. 1 6
242 A LOVE LETTER SENT TO A MAIDEN. [R;5™;
Which unto gods that sacred are,
as guilty thee bewray.
In place of fraud, let faith and truth
with thee now bear the sway !
Revoke and call to memory
the fruits of friendship shown !
Perpend in mind my torments strong,
my plaints and pensive moan !
Which, six long years, as passionate
to carping yoke of care,
I 'bode for thee, as thou thyself,
I know, canst well declare.
Remember thou the plaints and tears
which I poured forth for thee !
And ponder well the sacred vow
that thou hast made to me !
Which vow gave comfort to thy friend,
that subject served to grief:
Thou gavest thyself a pledge to me !
Thy faith was my relief!
But now what hellish hag, alas,
hath turned thy love to hate ?
Or else what whelp of HYDRA'S kind
in thee hath wrought debate ?
Alas, wilt thou despoil me quite
of my possessed joy ?
Or wilt thou plunge me headlong thus
to gulfs of great annoy ?
u. \\v
A LOVE LETTER SENT TO A MAIDEN. 243
Who would a \have\ thought alas,
such fraud to rest in thee ?
Who would have deemed, without desert
thy heart should change from me ?
Whose heart hath couched his tent
within my covert breast
And thine, I hoped, of me thy friend
likewise had been possesst.
But wavering minds, I plainly see,
so compassed with guile,
Pretend by sleights, the perfect joys
of friends for to exile.
O should a prattling parasite
so egg thee with disdain ;
That thou, the presence of thy friend,
through flattery, shouldst refrain ?
Not vouching once to speak with him,
whose heart thou hadst in hold :
Sith Liking fame hath granted grace ;
should Love so soon be cold !
Consider these my letters well,
and answer them again !
For I, thy friend in covert zeal,
this time hath closed my pen.
Farewell ! Adieu ! Ten thousand times
to GOD I thee commend !
Beseeching him his heavenly grace
unto thee still to send !
244 A LOVE LETTER SENT TO A MAIDEN. [
Thy friend in wealth, thy friend in woe :
Thy friend while life shall flit me fro.
And whilst that you enjoy your breath,
Leave not your friend unto the death !
For greater praise cannot be won
Than to observe True Love begun.
W. G.
R. W.
1566.
FINIS.
Imprinted at London by Richard Jones.
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246 RALEGH'S EXPEDITION FOR PANAMA. [?I
i
592-
Her Majesty's, the Garland and the Foresight, were the
chiefest. The rest [were] either his own, or his good friends',
or [belonged to] Adventurers of London. For the Gentle
men his consorts and Officers, to give them their right, they
were so well qualited in courage, experience, and discretion
as the greatest Prince might repute himself happy to be
served with their like.
The honour of Lieutenant General was imposed upon Sir
JOHN BURROUGH, a Gentleman, for his manifold good and
heroical parts, thought every way worthy of that command
ment. With whom, after Sir WALTER RALEGH returned,,
was joined in Commission, Sir MARTIN FROBISHER : who,,
for his special skill and knowledge in marine causes, had
formerly carried employments of like, or greater, place. The
rest of the Captains, soldiers, and sailors were men of not
able resolution ; and, for the most part, such as heretofore
had given to the World sufficient proof of their valour in
divers Services of the like nature.
With these ships, thus manned, Sir WALTER RALEGH de
parted towards the West country, there to store himself with
such further necessaries as the state of his Voyage [Expedition]
did needfully require. Where the westerly winds, blowing
for a long time contrary to his course, bound and constrained
him to keep harbour so many weeks that the fittest sea
son for his purpose was gone ; the minds of his people, much
altered ; his victuals, consumed : and withal Her Majesty,
understanding how crossly all this sorted, began to call the
procedings of this preparation into question.
Insomuch that, whereas the 6th of May [1592] was first
come before Sir WALTER could put to sea ; the very next
day, Sir MARTIN FROBISHER, in a Pinnance of my [Lord
HOWARD of Effingham, the] Lord Admiral's, called the
Disdain, met him : and brought to him, from Her Majesty,
Letters of Revocation, with commandment to relinquish for
his own part, the intended attempt ; and to leave the charge
and conduct of all things in the hands of Sir JOHN BUR-
ROUGH and Sir MARTIN FROBISHER.
But Sir WALTER (finding his honour so far engaged in
the undertaking of this Voyage [Expedition] as, without pro
ceeding, he saw no remedy either to salve his reputation;
or to content those his friends, which had put in adventures
tis?92] THE ENGLISH FLEET is DIVIDED IN TWO. 247
of great sums with him : and making construction of the
Queen's Letters, in such sort, as if her commandment had
been propounded in indifferent terms, either to advance
forward, or to retire, at his own discretion) would in no
case yield to leave his Fleet now under sail.
Wherefore continuing his course into the sea, he met,
within a day or two, with certain Sails lately come from
Spain. Among which was a ship appertaining to Monsieur
GouRDON, Governor of Calais : and [he] found aboard her,
one Master NEVEL DAVIES, an Englishman, who (having
endured a long and miserable captivity for the space of
twelve years [1580-1592] ; partly in the Inquisition in Spain)
was now, by good fortune, escaped ; and upon [his] return to
his [own] country.
This man, among other things, reported for certain, That
there was little hope of any good this year to be done in the
West India : considering that the King of Spain had sent
express order to all the ports, both of the Islands and of
Terra firma, that no ship should stir that year, nor any
treasure be laid aboard for Spain.
But neither this unpleasant relation, nor aught else, could
stay his proceedings, until a tempest of strange and uncouth
violence, arising upon Thursday the nth of May, when he
was athwart Cape Finisterre, had so scattered the greater
part of the Fleet, and sunk his boats and Pinnaces : that as
the rest were driven and severed, some this way, and some
that ; Sir WALTER himself, being in the Garland of Her
Majesty's [Ships], was in danger to be swallowed up of the sea.
Whereupon Sir "WALTER RALEGH finding that the season
of the year was too far gone to proceed with the enterprise
which he had upon Panama, having been held on the English
coast from February till May [1592], and thereby spent
three months' victuals ; and considering withal that to lie
upon the Spanish coast, or at the Islands [of the Azores], to
attend the return of the East [Indian], or West Indian Fleets,
was rather a work of patience than aught else : he gave
directions to Sir JOHN BURROUGH and Sir MARTIN FRO-
BISHER to divide the Fleet in two parts. Sir MARTIN with
the Garland, Captain GEORGE GlFFARD, Captain HENRY
THIN, Captain GRENVILLE, and others, to lie off the South
Cape \Cape St Vincent] ; thereby to amaze the Spanish
248 CAPTURE OF THE SANTA CLARA OF BISCAY. [?I.?g2i
Fleet, and to hold them on their own coast, while Sir JOHN
BURROUGH [in the Roebuck], Captain [Sir] ROBERT CROSSE
[in the Foresight] Captain THOMSON [in the Dainty], and
others, should attend the Islands for the Carracks [from Goa]
or any other Spanish ships coming from Mexico or other
parts of the West Indies.
Which direction took effect [was effectual] accordingly.
For the King of Spain's Admiral, receiving intelligence that
the English Fleet was come on the coast, attended to defend
the south parts of Spain, and to keep himself as near Sir
MARTIN FROBISHER as he could, to impeach [hinder] him
in all things which he might undertake : and thereby
neglected the safe conduct of the Carracks ; with whom it
fared as hereafter shall appear.
Before the Fleet severed themselves, they met with a great
The Santa Biscayen on the Spanish coast, called [the] San fa
S^n'ship of Clara, a ship of 600 tons. The noise of the artil-
€00 tons, taken. jery on both sides being heard ; immediately they
drew to their Fleet. Where, after a reasonably hot fight, the
ship was entered and mastered : which they found fraighted
with all sorts of small ironwork, as horse-shoes, nails, plough
shares, iron bars, spikes, bolts, locks, gimbols, and such like,
valued by us at £6,000 or £7,000 [ = £24,000 to £30,000
now], but worth to them treble the value. This Biscayen
was sailing towards San Lucar [de Barrameda, the Port of
Seville], there to take in some further provision for the West
India.
This ship being first rummaged, and after sent for Eng
land : our Fleet coasted along towards the South Cape of St.
Vincent
And, by the way, about the Rock [Cape da Roca] near
Lisbon, Sir JOHN BURROUGH in the Roebuck spying a Sail
afar off, gave her present chase : which, being a Fly-boat
and of good sail [a good sailer], drew him far southwards
before he could fetch her ; but at last she came under his lee,
and struck sail.
The Master of which Fly-boat coming aboard him, con
fessed, that the King [PHILIP II.] indeed had prepared a
great Fleet in San Lucar [de Barrameda] and Cadiz ; and, as
the report in Spain was current, for the West Indies.
?IJ&2] BURROUGH EVADES THE SPANISH FLEET. 249
But indeed the Spanish King had provided this Fleet
upon this counsel :
He received intelligence that Sir WALTER RALEGH was
to put out strong for the West India. To impeach him, and
to ranconter [encounter] his force ; he appointed this Fleet :
although, looking for the arrival of his East Indian Carracks,
he first ordained those ships to waft [convoy] them from the
Azores. But persuading himself that if the Fleet of Sir
WALTER RALEGH did go for the West India, then the
Islands should have none to infest them but small Men of
War ; which the Carracks of themselves would be well able
to match : his order was to Don ALONSO DE BACAN,
brother to the Marquis of SANTA CRUZ, and General of his
Armada, to pursue Sir WALTER'S Fleet, and to confront
liim ; what course soever he held.
And that this was true, our men in short time by proof
understood. For Sir JOHN BURROUGH (not long after the
taking of his last prize, the Fly-boat), as he sailed back again
towards the rest of his company, discovered the Spanish
Fleet to seaward of him : which, having likewise spied him
betwixt them and the shore, made full account to bring him
safe into [a] Spanish harbour ; and therefore spread them
selves in such sort before him, that indeed his danger was
very great. For both the liberty of the sea was brought into
a narrow straight [distance] ; and the shore, being enemy
[hostile] could give him no comfort of relief. So sir JOHN BUR-
that, trusting to GOD's help only and his good dangeVoffh?1
sail [sailing], he thrust out from among them, in Spanish Fleet.
spite of all their force ; and, to the notable illusion of all
their cunning, which they shewed to the uttermost in laying
the way for his apprehension.
But now Sir JOHN BURROUGH, having happily escaped
their clutches ; finding the coast guarded by this Fleet ; and
knowing it was but folly to expect a meeting there with Sir
MARTIN FROBISHER (who understanding of this Armada, as
well as himself, would be sure not to come that way), began
to shape his course to the Azores, according to Sir WALTER
RALEGH'S direction : and came in sight of St. The Isle of St>
Michael ; running so near by Villa Franca, that he Michaei.
might easily discern the ships lying there at anchor.
250 BURROUGH SIGHTS THE SANTA CRUZ. [? Jg2.
Divers small Caravels both here and between St George's
Divers small [Island] and the Pike \Pico\ in his course towards
ships taken. Flores, he intercepted : of which no great intelli
gence for his affairs could be understood.
Arriving before Flores, upon Thursday the 2ist of June,
towards evening, [in the Roebuck], accompanied only by
Captain CAUFIELD and the Master of his ship ; the rest not
being yet arrived : he made towards the shore with his boat :
Santa Cruz, a finding all the people of Santa Cruz, a village of
village in the ., . .fc>, , . r ., . i- ° ,
isle of Fiores. that island, in arms ; fearing their landing, and
ready marshalled to defend their town from spoil.
Sir JOHN, contrariwise, made signs of amity unto them by
advancing a white flag, a common token of peace: which
was answered again of them with the like. Whereupon
ensued intercourses of good friendship ; and pledges were
taken on both sides, the Captain of the town for them and
Captain CAULFIELD for ours. So that whatsoever our men
wanted, which that place could supply, either in fresh water,
victuals, or the like, was very willingly granted [i.e. for pay
ment*) by the inhabitants ; and good leave had they to refresh
themselves on shore, as much and as oft as they would,
without restraint.
At this Santa Cruz, Sir JOHN BURROUGH was informed
that indeed there was among them no expectation of any
News of the Fleet to come from the West : but from the East,
clrracks!an that no longer since than three days before his
arrival \i.e. i8th June 1592] a Carrack was passed by for
Lisbon, and that there were four Carracks more behind, of
one consort {company or Fleet].
Sir JOHN, being very glad of this news, stayed no longer
on shore, but presently embarked himself: having only in
company a small Bark, of 60 tons [? the Phoenix, see page
255], belonging to one Master HOPKINS of Bristol.
In the meanwhile that these things thus passed at Flores ;
part of the rest of the English Fleet, which Sir JOHN BUR-
ROUGH had left upon the coast of Spain, drew also towards
the Azores. And whereas he quickly, at sea, had discovered
one of the Carracks [the Santa Cruz] : the same evening, he
might descry two or three of [GEORGE CLIFFORD] the Earl
of CUMBERLAND'S ships [two of them were the Tiger and the
Sampson], whereof one Master NORTON was Captain [or a?
?J92] THE SANTA CRUZ, HALF-BURNT, is TAKEN. 251
we should now say, Commodore] ; which having, in like sort,,
kenned the Carrack, pursued her by that course which they
saw her to run towards the Islands.
But on no side was there any way made, by reason of a
great calm which yielded no breath to spread a sail. Inso
much that (fitly to discover her what she was ; of what
burden, force, and countenance) Sir JOHN BuRROUGH took
his boat, and rowed the space of three miles, to make her
[out] exactly ; and, being returned, he consulted with the
better sort of the Company then present, upon the boarding
[of] her in the morning.
But a very mighty storm arising in the night, the ex
tremity thereof forced them all to weigh anchors ; yet
their care was such in wrestling with the weather, not to lose
the Carrack : [so] that, in the morning (the tempest being
qualified, and our men bearing again with the shore), they
might perceive the Carrack very near the land ; and the
Portugals confusedly carrying on shore such things as they
could, [in] any manner of way, convey out of her. And
seeing the haste our men made to come upon them ; [they]
forsook her.
But first, that nothing might be left commodious to our
men ; [they] set fire to that which they could not A Carrack,
carry with them : intending by that means, wholly ^ntaCrm
to consume her ; that neither glory of victory, nor set °n fire-
benefit of ship, might remain to ours.
And lest the approach and industry of the English should
bring means to extinguish the flame, thereby to preserve the
residue of that which the fire had not destroyed : being 400
of them in number and well armed, they intrenched them
selves on land so near the Carrack, that she, being by their
forces protected and our men kept aloof off; the fire might
continue to the consumption of the whole.
This being noted by Sir JOHN BuRROUGH ; he soon pro
vided a present remedy for this mischief. For A hundred of
landing 100 of his men (whereof many did swim, fa^dTd"
and wade more than breast high, to shore) and easily scatter
ing those that presented themselves to guard the coast : he
no sooner drew towards their new trenches, but they fled
immediately ; leaving as much as the fire had spared [of the
Santa Cntz\ to be the reward of our men's pains.
252 NEWS OF THREE MORE CARRACKS. [, Jga/
Here were taken, among others, one VINCENT FONSECA,
a Portugal, Purser of the Carrack ; with two others, one an
Almain [German], and the second a Low Dutchman [Hol
lander] Cannoniers : who, refusing to make any voluntary
report of those things which were demanded of them, had
the torture threatened ; the fear whereof, at the last, wrested
from them this intelligence :
That, within fifteen days, three other greater Carracks than
that [the Santa Cruz] lately fired, would arrive at the same
Island [of Flores]. And that being five Carracks in the
Fleet at their departure from Goa, to wit, the Buen Jesits,
Admiral [Flag Ship] ; the Madre de Dios; the San Bernardo;
the San Christophoro ; and the Santa Cruz, whose fortune
you have already heard : they had received special command
ment from the King [PHILIP II.] not to touch, in any case,
at the Island of St. Helena, where the Portugal Carracks,
in their return from the East India, were always, till now,
wont to arrive, to refresh themselves with water and victuals.
And the King's reason was, because of the English Men of
War : who, as he was informed, lay there in wait to intercept
them. If therefore their necessity of water should drive
them to seek [a] supply anywhere, he appointed them
Angola, anew Angola, in the mainland] of Africa; with order
watering place there to stay Q^ fa> takmg m Qf water, to
Carracks. avoid the inconvenience of infections, whereunto
that hot latitude is dangerously subject. The last rendez
vous for them all was the Island of Flores : where the
King assured them not to miss of his Armada, thither
sent of purpose for their wafting [convoy] to Lisbon.
Upon this information, Sir JOHN drew to Council [of War],
meeting there Captain NORTON, Captain DOWNTON, Captain
ABRAHAM COCKE, Captains of three ships of [GEORGE CLIF
FORD,] the Earl of CUMBERLAND ; Master THOMSON of
Harwich, Captain of the Dainty of Sir JOHN HAWKINS'S, one
of Sir WALTER RALEGH'S Fleet ; and Master CHRISTOPHER
NEWPORT, Captain of the Golden Dragon, newly returned
from the West Indies ; and others.
These being assembled, he communicated with them what
he had understood of the foresaid Examinates ; and what
great presumptions of truth their relation did carry : wishing
that forasmuch as GOD and good fortune had brought them
? JJ THE ENGLISH SIGHT THE MADRE DE Dios. 253
together in so good a season, they would shew the uttermost
of their endeavours to bring these Easterlings [here meaning,
the Carracks from the East : an unusual application of a word
ordinarily applied to Baltic ships] under the lee of English
obedience.
Hereupon a present accord, on all sides, followed ; not to
part company, or leave off those seas, till time should present
cause to put their consultations in execution.
The next day [? 29th June 1592], Her Majesty's good Ship
the Foresight, commanded by Sir ROBERT CROSSE, came in
to the rest : and he, likewise informed of the matter, was
soon drawn into this Service.
Thus Sir JOHN, with all these ships, departing thence [to
some] six or seven leagues to the West of Flores ; they
spread themselves abroad from the North to the South ;
each ship two leagues, at the least, distant from another.
By which order of extension, they were able to discover
the space of two whole degrees [=140 miles'] at sea.
In this sort, they lay from the 29th of June to the 3rd of
August [1592].
[At] what time, Captain THOMSON, in the Dainty, had
first sight of the huge Carrack, called the Madre de Dios
[the Mother of God\ ; one of the greatest receipt [burden]
belonging to the Crown of Portugal.
The Dainty, being of excellent sail, got the start of the
rest of our Fleet : and began the conflict, somewhat to her
cost, with the slaughter and hurt of divers of her men.*
Within a while after, Sir JOHN BURROUGH, in the Roebuck
of Sir WALTER RALEGH'S [Fleet], was at hand to second
* By noon, or one of the clock, of that day, being the 3rd of August
[1592], the Dainty came near her so that the Gunner, whose name was
THOMAS BEDOME (being a proper tall man : and had very good aim at
anything, and good luck withal), desired the Captain [THOMSON] he
might give them a shoot : to let them understand that they were
Englishmen ; and, under Her Highness, Commanders of the Seas.
The Captain (having great care ; and not willing to have any
shoot shot in vain) commanded him to forbear till they should come
nearer her ; which was not long : when the Captain commanded him
to do his best ; and carousing a can of wine to his Company, encouraged
them to begin the fight.
And coming up, [he] hailed them, after the manner of the sea; and
commanded them to strike for the Queen of England : which they no
254 THE CARRACK FIGHTS six ENGLISH SHIPS. [?IJ92.
Tier : who saluted her with shot of great ordnance, and con
tinued the fight, within musket shot, (assisted by Captain
THOMSON [in the Dainty] and Captain NEWPORT [in the
Golden Dragon]) till Sir ROBERT CROSSE, Vice Admiral
•of the Fleet [there present], came up ; [having] been to
leeward.
At whose arrival, Sir JOHN BURROUGH demanded of him,
What was best to be done ?
Who answered, That if the Carrack were not boarded ;
she would recover the shore, and fire herself, as the other
had done.
Whereupon Sir JOHN BURROUGH concluded to entangle
Tier : and Sir ROBERT CROSS promised also to fasten himself
[in the Foresight] to her together at the instant. Which was
performed.
But, after a while, Sir JOHN BuRROUGH['s ship, the
Roebuck^ receiving a shot, with a cannon perier, under
water, and [being] ready to sink ; [he] desired Sir ROBERT
CROSSE to fall off that he might also clear himself, and
save his ship from sinking : which with difficulty he did.
For both the Roebuck and the Foresight were so entangled
as, with much ado, could they clear themselves.
The same evening, Sir ROBERT CROSSE (finding the
Carrack then sure, and drawing near the Island) persuaded
his company to board her again ; or else there was no
hope to recover her : who, after many excuses and fears,
were by him encouraged. And so [his ship] fell athwart
her foreships all alone ; and so hindered her sailing, that
the rest had time to come up to his succour, and to recover
the Carrack ere she recovered the land.
sooner refused, but the Gunner, being ready, gave fire to two whole
culverins in her chase ; and racked and tore her pitifully.
Bearing up with them, [we] gave them the whole [broad] side ; and
boarded them presently : who resisted most courageously, and put us
off again.
Thus continued the Dainty in fight a pretty while before any others
could come to help her.
In which time, she laid her aboard three several times, tore her
Ancient \Flag~\ from her Poop, and slew her Captain [?]. And more
harm had done them : but that, by chance, a shot bare their Foremast
by the board ; which they were compelled to splice again, to their great
trouble.
The Seaman's Triumph. [3Oth September] 1592.
ijgj THE CARRACK is, AT LENGTH, TAKEN. 255
And so, towards the evening, after he had fought with
her alone three hours singly, my Lord of CUMBERLAND'S
two ships [the Tiger and the Sampson] came up : The Mad™ de
and, with very little loss, [they] entered with £>«« taken.
Sir ROBERT CROSSE ; who had, in that time, broken
their courage, and made the assault easy for the rest.*
The General [Sir JOHN BuRROUGH] having disarmed the
Portugals ; and stowed them, for better security, on all
sides \i.e. in the various English ships] ; first had presented to
his eyes, the true proportion of the vast body of this
Carrack ; which did then, and may still, justly provoke the
admiration [wonderment] of all men not formerly acquainted
with such a sight.
But albeit this first appearance of the hugeness thereof
* The next was Her Majesty's good Ship, the Foresight ; whose
Commander for that Service was Captain [Sir ROBERT] CROSSE (a man
well approved in marine causes, and far hath adventured) : who with
his ship laid her aboard, and very valiantly assailed them ; and was
most stoutly by the Spaniards also repulsed.
Insomuch that the brave Captain, of whose men, many were weak ;
and yet being loath Her Majesty's Ship should be shaken off without
victory, fired the Carrack : rather wishing her to be burnt, than the
enemies to enjoy her. But the proud and lofty-minded Spaniards,
standing on their resolute points, returned the fire again, or some other :
which three times was kindled [on board the Foresight'] ; to the great
cumber of Captain CROSSE and his Company, that would not so leave
them.
This dangerous conflict between these ships endured [a] long
time. Which the Phoenix of Portsmouth perceiving . . . being of 60
tons or thereabouts . . . left her for a time ; standing with their
Admiral and Vice-Admiral, which were the Tiger and the Sampson :
and coming up with them, declared unto them the hardy fight of the
Foresight ; who presently bare up with them all the night. The
Sampson, being the first, coming up with the Carrack, gave her the
whole broadside : and shutting up into the Foresight's quarter, entered
his men into her.
Captain NORTON, that brave and worthy Gentleman, laid her also
aboard, having the Tiger with him.
And so [all three crews] entered together, being 100 men at the
least, all resolutely minded. At whose entrance they yielded so great a
cry as the dismayed Portugals and Spaniards could not bethink them
selves what course to take to help themselves : in such a maze were
they stricken, although they were [originally] Soo strong, all well-
appointed and able men ; and of ours but 100. But standing thus, as
men amazed, at length [they] yielded themselves vanquished.
The Seaman's Triumph, [soth September] 1592.
256 HARD FORTUNE OF CAPTAIN DE MENDOZA. [?I:g^
yielded sights enough to entertain our men's eyes ; yet the
pitiful object of so many bodies slain and dismembered could
not but draw each man's eye to see, and heart to lament, and
hands to help, those miserable people ; whose limbs were so-
torn with the violence of shot, and pain made grievous with
the multitude of wounds. No man could almost step but upon
a dead carcase, or a bloody floor. But especially about the
helm ; where very many of them fell suddenly from stirring
[steering] to dying. For the greatness of the stirrage
[steering] requiring the labour of twelve or fourteen men at
once ; and some of our ships, beating her in at the stern
with their ordnance, oftentimes with one shot slew four
or five labouring on either side of the helm : whose rooms
being still furnished with fresh supplies, and our artillery
still playing upon them with continual vollies ; it could
not be but that much blood should be shed in that
place.
Whereupon our General, moved with singular corn-
Exceeding miseration of their misery, sent them his own
shU0™ edhto the chirurgions, denying them no possible help or
Enemy. relief he, or any of his Company, could afford
them.
Among the rest of those, whose state this chance had
made very deplorable, was Don FERNANDO DE MENDOZA,
Grand Captain and Commander of this Carrack : who
indeed was descended of the House of MENDOZA in Spain ;
but, being married into Portugal, lived there as one of
that nation. A Gentleman well stricken in years, well
spoken, of comely personage, of good stature : but of hard
fortune.
In his several Services against the Moors, he was twice
taken prisoner ; and both times ransomed by the King [of
Spain].
In a former voyage of return from [or rather, going
to] the East India, he was driven [in August 1585] upon the
baxos or " sands of India " \iiow called Bassas da India, and
situated midway between Africa and Madagascar}, near the
coast of Cephala [Sqfa!a] ; being then also Captain of a
Carrack [the San Jago~\, which was there lost : and him
self, though escaping the sea danger, yet fell into the hands
?i;g2] THE PRISONERS ARE SENT TO LlSBON. 257
of infidels on land, who kept him under long and grievous
servitude. \An account of this shipwreck will be found in
Vol. III., pp. 25, 311-316.] Once more the King [PHILIP
II.], carrying a loving respect to the man and desirous to
better his condition, was content to let him try his fortune
in this Easterly Navigation ; and committed unto him the
conduct of this Carrack [the Madre de Dios\ wherein he
went [in 1591] from Lisbon, General of the whole Fleet:
and in that degree had returned, if the Viceroy of Goa, em
barked for Portugal on the Buen Jesus, had not, by reason of
his late Office, being preferred.
Sir JOHN, intending not to add too much affliction
to the afflicted, moved with pity and compassion of human
misery, in the end, resolved freely to dismiss this Cap
tain and the most part of his followers to their own
country ; and for the same purpose, bestowed them in
certain vessels, furnished with all kinds of necessary pro
vision.*
This business thus dispatched, good leisure had he to
take such [a] view of the goods as conveniency might
afford. And having very prudently, to cut off the un
profitable spoil and pillage whereunto he saw the minds
of many inclined, seized upon the whole to Her Majesty's
use ; after a short and slender rummaging and searching
of such things as first came to hand : he perceived that
the wealth would arise nothing disanswerable to ex
pectation ; but that the variety and grandeur of all
rich commodities would be more than sufficient to
* They gan to consult, What were best to do with the prisoners,
which were many ? And finding their great scarcity of victuals ; and
not knowing what weather they might have ; nor how it might please
GOD with good wind to prosper them : it was concluded to ship as
many of them as they might ; and to send them for Lisbon. This they
fully determined ; and provision was made of a Bark of Dover, which
they met : the Fleet taking in her men, and such provision as they had
in her ; and embarked the Spaniards and Portingals, with their Negroes,
whereof were many. And gave them, with them, store of victuals ; and
so gave them leave to depart ; detaining none but the principalest of
them.
The Seaman's Triumph. [3Oth September] 1592.
ENG. GAR. VIII. I
258 REVELATION OF EASTERN SECRETS TO us. [?JQ2.
content both the Adventurers' desire and the soldiers'
travail.*
And here 1 cannot but enter into the consideration and
acknowledgment of GOD's great favour towards our nation ;
who, by putting this purchase [booty] into our hands, hath
manifestly discovered those secret trades and Indian riches
which hitherto lay strangely hidden and cunningly concealed
from us : whereof there was, among some few of us, some
small and unperfect glimpse only ; which now is turned into
the broad light of full and perfect knowledge. Whereby it
should seem that the will of GOD for our good is, if our
weakness could apprehend it, to have us communicate with
them in those East Indian treasures : and, by the erection of
a lawful Traffic, to better our means to advance true religion
and his holy service. [Just at the time RICHARD HAKLUYT
printed this, 1600 A.D. ; he and others were chartered by Queen
ELIZABETH, as the English East India Company.']
The Carrack, being in burden, by the estimation of the wise
and experienced, [of] no less than 1,600 tons ; had fully 900
of those, stowed with the gross bulk of merchandise : the
rest of the tonnage being allowed, partly to the ordnance,
which were 32 pieces of brass of all sorts ; partly to the
passengers and the victuals ; which could not be any small
* The conflict ended, it were a world of wonder to recount unto you
the true reports, how our men bestirred themselves in searching and
prying into every corner of her as far as they might : as they might well
do, having with so great danger overcome her. The sight of the
riches, within the same contained, did so amaze the Companies (that
were within board of her : and that still came from every ship ; being
desirous to see what GOD had sent them, after so long and hot a fight)
that many of them could not tell what to take ; such was the store and
goodness thereof.
Yea, he that had known what [the] things had been worth, in a little
room might have contrived great wealth. For it is credibly reported
that some younkers happened to find many Jars of Civet, which is o
great worth ; and [it having been] of some long time closely kept was
cause, when they opened the same, it yielded no savour : and they,
ignorant and not knowing what it should be, thinking it but trash, as it
came to their hands, heaved it overboard. Many other things were so
spoiled [destroyed] for want of knowledge ; when every man had
sufficient, and that not one had cause to complain.
The Seaman's Triumph [soth September] 1 592.
-?iS?92-] THE CARGO OF THE M A D R E DE D I O S. 259
quantity, considering the number of the persons, betwixt
600 and 700, and the length of the navigation.
To give you a taste, as it were, of the commodities, it shall
suffice to deliver you a general particularity of AbriefCata-
them, according to the Catalogue taken at Leaden iJSd£^rich
Hall, the I5th of September 1592. Where, upon commodities
i . . . r i i i • e ^'adre
good view, it was found that the principal wares, deoios.
after the jewels (which were no doubt of great value, though
they never came to light), consisted of Spices, Drugs, Silks,
Calicoes, Quilts, Carpets, and Colours, &c.
The Spices were Pepper, Cloves, Maces, Nutmegs,
Cinnamon, Green Ginger.
The Drugs were Benjamin [the gum Benzoin~\, Frank
incense, Galingale [or Galarigal\ Mirabolams, Aloes,
Zocotrina, Camphor.
The Silks [were] Damasks, Taffatas, Sarcenets, Alto-
bassos that is counterfeit Cloth of Gold, unwrought China
Silk, Sleaved Silk, White twisted Silk, Curled Cypress
[—Cypress lawn, a cobzveb lawn or crape].
The Calicoes were Book Calicoes, Calico Lawns, Broad
white Calicoes, Fine starched Calicoes, Coarse white
Calicoes, Brown broad Calicoes, Brown coarse Calicoes.
There were also Canopies, and coarse Diaper Towels ;
Quilts of coarse Sarcenet, and of Calico ; Carpets like
those of Turkey.
Whereunto are to be added the Pearls, Musk, Civet,
and Ambergris.
The rest of the wares were many in number ; but less in
"value : as Elephants' teeth ; Porcelain vessels of China ;
Cocoanuts ; Hides ; Ebony wood, as black as jet ; Bed
steads of the same ; Cloth of the rinds of trees, very strange
for the matter, and artificial in workmanship.
All which piles of commodities being, by men of approved
judgment, rated but in reasonable sort, amounted to no less
than £150,000 sterling [ = £600,000 to £700,000 now] : which
being divided among the Adventurers whereof Her Majesty
was the chief, was sufficient to yield contentment to all
parties.
The [above] cargazon \cargo] being taken out [at Dart
mouth], and the goods freighted in ten of our ships, [ai.d]
26O THE DIMENSIONS OF THE MADRE DE DlOS. [?]J92i
sent for London ; to the end that the bigness, height, length,
breadth, and other dimensions, of so huge a vessel might, by
the exact rules of geometrical observations, be truly taken,
both for present knowledge and derivation \transmission\
also of the same unto posterity : one Master ROBERT
ADAMS, a man in his faculty of excellent skill, omitted
nothing in the description which either his art could demon
strate ; or any man's judgment think worthy the memory.
After an exquisite survey of the whole frame, he found :
Theca adt ^he length, from the beak-head to the stern,
anddimen- whereupon was erected a lantern, to contain 165
sions of the c
Madre de ICCt.
The breadth, in the second Close deck, whereof
she had three ; this being the place where was most
extension of breadth, was 46 feet 10 inches.
She drew in water 31 feet at her departure from
Cochin in India : but not above 26 [feet] at her arrival
in Dartmouth ; being lightened in her voyage, by divers
means, some 5 feet.
She carried in height, seven several stories [or decks] :
one main Orlop, three Close decks, one Fore-castle, and
a Spar deck of two floors apiece.
The length of the keel was 100 feet : of the Mainmast
121 feet ; and the circuit about, at the partners, 10 feet,
7 inches.
The main-yard was 106 feet long.
By which perfect commensuration of the parts appeareth
the hugeness of the whole : far beyond the mould of the
biggest shipping used among us, either for war or receit
[burden].
Don ALONSO DE BAgAN (having a great Fleet: and
suffering these two Carracks, the Santa Cruz to be burnt ;
and the Madre de Dios to be taken) was disgraced by his
Prince for his negligence.
26l
Captain NICHOLAS DOWNTON.
The firing and sinking of the stout and warlike Carrack,
tailed Las Cinque Llagas or The Five Wounds [of the Cross
at Calvary, ^ls^^ally called the Stigmata] by three tall ships set
forth at the charges of the Right Honourable [GEORGE CLIFFORD]
the Earl of CUMBERLAND and his friends.
]N the latter end of the year 1593, the Right
Honourable [GEORGE CLIFFORD,] Earl of CUM
BERLAND, at his own charges and his Besides these
friends', prepared three tall ships, all at there ^asl;
[an] equal rate and either [each] of them ^f^^
had [the] like quantity of victuals and [the] like ti».wh?notit
number of men : there being embarked in all three ships,
420 men of all sorts.
The Royal Exchange went as Admiral [Flag Skip] ;
wherein Master GEORGE CAVE was Captain. The May
Flower, Vice Admiral, [was] under the conduct of [Captain]
WILLIAM ANTHONIE. And the Sampson, the charge whereof,
it please his Honour to commit unto me, NICHOLAS
DOWNTON.
The directions were sent to us to Plymouth ; and we were
to open them at sea.
The 6th of April 1594, we set sail in the Sound of Ply
mouth, directing our course toward the Coast of Spain.
The 24th of the said month, at the Admiral's direction ;
we divided ourselves East and West from each other, being
then in the height of 43° [North] : with commandment at
night to come together again.
The 27th, in the morning, we descried the May Flower
and the little Pinnace [the Violet] with a prize that they had
taken ; being of Vianna [do Castello] in Portugal, and bound
for Angola in Africa. This Bark was of 2cS tons ; having
some 17 persons in the same. There were in her, some 12
262 THE CARRACK FIGHTS 3 ENGLISH SHIPS. [CaPl-N- Do^°^
butts of Galicia wine ; whereof we took into every ship a like
Commodities Par^ : with some Rusk in chests and barrels, with
fit for Angola, ij butts of blue coarse cloth, and certain coarse
linen cloth for Negroes' shirts ; which goods were divided
among our Fleet.
The 4th of May, we had sight of our Pinnace and the
Admiral's shallop : which had taken three Portugal Caravels ;
whereof they had sent two away, and kept the third.
The 2nd of June, we had sight of St. Michael [,one of the
Azores].
The 3rd day, in the morning, we sent our small Pinnace,
which was of some 24 tons, with the small Caravel which we
had taken at the Burlings, to range the road[s] [harbours] of
all the Islands ; to see if they could get anything in the
same: appointing them to meet us W.S.W. 12 leagues from
Fayal. Their going from us was to no purpose. They
missed coming to us, when we appointed: also we missed,
them, when we had great cause to have used them.
The 1 3th of June, we met with a mighty Carrack of the
East Indies, called Las Cinque Llagas, or The Five Wounds.
The May Flower was in fight with her before night. I, in
the Sampson, fetched her up in the evening ; and (as I com
manded to give her the broad side, as we term it) while I
stood very needfully prying to discover her strength ; and
where I might give counsel to board her in the night, when
the Admiral came \skould come\ up to us ; and, as I remember,
at the very first shot she discharged at us, I was shot in a
little above the belly ; whereby I was made unserviceable for
a good while after, without [the Portuguese] touching \]turting\
any other for that night.
Yet, by means of an honest true-hearted man which I had
with me, one Captain GRANT, nothing was neglected.
Until midnight, when the Admiral came up ; the May
Flower and the Sampson never left, by turns, to ply her with
their great ordnance : but then Captain CAVE wished us to
stay till morning ; at what time each one of us should give
her three bouts with our great ordnance, and so should clap
her aboard.
But indeed it was long lingered in the morning, until ten.
of the clock, before we attempted to board her. The Admiral
Capt. N. Downton.-j ^HE ENGLISH BOARDERS BEATEN OFF. 263
laid her aboard in the mid ship : the May Flower coming up
in the quarter, as it should seem, to lie at the stern of the
Admiral on the larboard side.
[WILLIAM ANTHONIE,] the Captain of the said May
Flower was slain at the first coming up : whereby the ship
fell to the stern of the out-licar of the Carrack ; which, being
a piece of timber, so wounded her Foresail, that they said
they could come no more to [the] fight. I am sure they did
not ; but kept aloof from us.
The Sampson were aboard on the bow [of the Carrack] ;
but having not room enough, our quarter lay on the \Royaf\
Exchanges, and our bow on the Carrack's bow.
The Exchange also, at the first coming, had her Captain,
Master [GEORGE] CAVE, shot in both the legs ; the one
whereof he never recovered : so he, for that present, was not
able to do his office ; and, in his absence, he had not any
that would undertake to lead out his Company to enter upon
the Enemy.
My friend, Captain GRANT, did lead my men on the Car-
rack's side ; which, being not manfully backed by the Ex
change1?, men, his forces being small, made the Enemy bolder
than he would have been : whereby I had six men presently
slain, and many more hurt ; which made them that remained
unhurt to return aboard, and [they] would never more give
the assault. I say not but some of the Exchanges men did
very well : and many more, no doubt, would have done the
like, if there had been any principal man to have put them
forward, and to have brought all the Company to the fight ;
and not to have run into corners themselves. But I must
needs say that their ship \the Carrack\ was as well provided
for defence as any that I have seen.
And the Portugals, peradventure encouraged by our slack
working, played, the men ; and had Barricadoes made where
they might stand without any danger of our shot. They
plied us also very much with fire, so that most of our men
were burnt in some place or other : and while our men were
putting out the fire, they would ever be plying them with
small shot or darts. This unusual casting of fire did much
dismay many of our men, and made them draw back as
they did.
264 LAS CINQUE LLAGAS is SET ON FIRE. [Capt- N- Do^°";
When we had not men to enter; we plied our great
ordnance much at them, as high up as they might be
mounted : for otherwise we did them little harm. And by
shooting a piece out of our forecastle, being close by her, we
fired a mat on her beak-head : which [fire] more and more
kindled, and ran from thence to the mat on the bowsprit ;
and from the mat, up to the wood of the bowsprit ; and
thence to the topsail-yard ; which fire made the Portugals
abaft in the ship to stagger, and to make show of parle. But
they that had the charge before, encouraged them ; making
show that it might easily be put out, and that it was nothing.
Whereupon again they stood stiffly to their defence.
Anon the fire grew so strong that I saw it [to be] beyond
all help ; although she had been already yielded to us.
Then we desired to be off from her, but had little hope to
[have] obtained our desire. Nevertheless we plied water
very much to keep our ship well. Indeed I made little other
reckoning for the ship, myself, and divers hurt men ; [but]
then to have ended there with the Carrack : but most of our
people might have saved themselves in boats. And when
my care was most, by GOD's Providence only, by the burn
ing asunder of our spritsail-yard with [its] ropes and sail,
and the ropes about the spritsail-yard of the Carrack,
whereby we were fast entangled, we fell apart ; with [the]
burning of some of our sails which we had then on board.
The Excltange also, being further from the fire, afterward
was more easily cleared ; and fell off from abaft.
As soon as GOD had put us out of danger, the fire got
into the Fore-castle [of the Carrack] ; where, I think, was
store of Benjamin \tlie gum Benzoin] and such other like
combustible matter : for it flamed and ran all over the Car-
rack in an instant, in a manner. The Portugals leapt over
board in great numbers.
Then sent I, Captain GRANT with the boat ; with leave to
use his own discretion in saving of them. So he brought
me aboard two Gentlemen :
The one, an old man, called NUNO VELIO PEREIRA which,
as appeareth by the Fourth Chapter in the First Book of the
worthy History of [JAN] HUYGHEN VAN LlNSCHOTEN, was
Governor of Mozambique and Cefala [Sq/a/a'] in the year
Capt.N. Downtonj yj Hy THE PORTUGUESE DID NOT YIELD. 265
1582 [See English Garner III, 27, 28.] : and since that time,
had been likewise a Governor in a place of importance in
the East Indies, And the ship \a Car rack}, wherein he was
coming home, was cast away a little to the east of the Cape
of Buona Speranza [Cape of Good Hope] : and from thence,
he travelled overland to Mozambique ; and came, as a pas
senger, in this Carrack.
The other was called BRAS CARRERO, and [he] was Captain
of a Carrack which was cast away near Mozambique ; and
[he] came likewise in this ship for a passenger.
Also three men of the inferior sort we saved in our boat.
Only these two we clothed, and brought into England. The
rest, which were taken up by the other ships' boats, we set
all on shore in the Isle of Flores : except some two or three
Negroes ; whereof one was born in the Mozambique, and
another in the East Indies.
This fight was open off the Sound between Fayal and
Pico ; six leagues to the southward.
The people which we saved told us, That the cause why
they would not yield was because this Carrack was for the
King ; and that she had all the goods belonging to the King
in the country \Indid\ for that year in her ; and that the
Captain of her was in favour with the King ; and at his [next]
return into the Indies, should have been Viceroy there.
And withal this ship was nothing at all pestered ; neither
within board, nor without : and was more like a Ship of War
than otherwise. Moreover, she had the ordnance of a
Carrack that was cast away at Mozambique, and the [Ship's]
Company of her : together with the [Ship's] Company of
another Carrack that was cast away a little to the eastward
of the Cape of Buona Speranza. Yet through sickness,
which they caught at Angola, where they watered ; they
said, They had not now above 1 50 white men : but negroes,
a great many.
They likewise affirmed that they had three Noblemen aad
three Ladies in her : but we found them to differ in most of
their talk.
All this day [Hth June 1594] and all the night she
burned : but, next morning, her powder, which was lowest.
266 LAS CINQUE LLAGAS BLOWN TO PIECES. [&*tgM*DoTSr
being 60 barrels, blew her abroad ; so that most of the ship
did swim in parts above the water.
Some of them say, That she was bigger than the Madre
de Dios ; and some, That she was less. But she was much
undermasted, and undersailed [carrying too little sail\ : yet
she went well for a ship that was so foul.
The shot which wz [in the Samsoii\ made at her in great
ordnance, before .we lay her aboard, might be at seven bouts
\broadsides\ which we had, and 6 or 7 shot at a bout, one
with another, some 49 shots. The time we lay aboard [the
Carrack] might be two hours. The shot which we dis
charged [while] aboard the Carrack, might be [that of] some
24 sakers.
And thus much may suffice concerning our dangerous
conflict with that unfortunate Carrack.
The last of June [1594], after long traversing of the seas,
we had sight of another mighty Carrack ; which divers of
our Company, at the first, took to be the great San Philip,
the Admiral {or Flag Ship\ of Spain ; but the next day,
being the ist of July [1594], fetching her up, we perceived
her indeed to be a Carrack : which, after some few shot
bestowed upon her, we summoned to yield ; but they, stand
ing stoutly to their defence, utterly refused the same.
Wherefore, seeing no good could be done without board
ing her, I consulted what course we should take in the
boarding. But by reason that we, which were the chief
Captains, were partly slain, and partly wounded, in the
former conflict ; and because of the murmuring of some
disordered and cowardly companions : our valiant and
resolute determinations were crossed. And, to conclude
a long discourse in few words, the Carrack escaped our
hands.
After this, attending about Corvo and Flores for some
West Indian purchase [booty], and being disappointed of
our expectation ; and victuals growing short, we returned
to England : where I arrived at Portsmouth, the 28th of
August [1594].
Illlllllgllllllglllllll
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The Toys of a Traveller :
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The Feast of Fancy.
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269
To the no less virtuous than fair, the
Honourable Lady LUCY, sister to
the thrice renowned and noble
Lord, HENRY \_PERCY~\ Earl
of NORTHUMBERLAND.
|OOD Madam, I make bold to present unto you a
few Toys of mine own travail : [the] most part
conceived in Italy, and some of them brought
forth in England. By which my imperfections,
you may see, as in a lively mirror, your own
perfections ; and by the follies of my rechlesse [heedless]
youth, behold plainly the virtues of your flowering age :
hoping your Ladyship will keep them as privately, as I
send them unto you most willingly.
Neither doubt I at all but that your excellent spirit will
judge graciously of this my bare, yet bounden, conceit ; and
to accept the same, as a mean[s], at idle times, to drive
away that self-pleasing, yet ill-easing, humour of never-glad
melancholy, which spiteful Fortune, seeking (though in vain)
most injuriously to insult over you, laboureth by all means
possible to inflict upon you : the virtuous behaviour of your
self being such as, even in the midst of all your crosses, you
cross her designs with an invincible heart, and with your
honourable carriage carry her, with all her devices, as a slave
to follow you, in all your generous and thrice-noble actions ;
maugre the intricate labyrinth of so many and infinite
troubles allotted, most unworthily, unto you, by the irre
vocable doom of your too partial and flinty Destiny. All
270 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. [R T,°5r^
which notwithstanding, you bear and over -bear, with a
most resolute staiedness ; and a resolved courage of a right
PERCY, and of a mind A per se.
But additions breed suspicions ; and fair words, for the
most part are counted the blazons of flattery : therefore I
will leave to the temperate judgment of the wise, and to
the uncorrupt censure of the worthier sort, your heroical
and undaunted mind ; and the integrity and never-stained
proceedings of your spotless self.
Only this, with submission, will I say, that if the richness
of the ground is known by the corn ; the daintiness of the
water, by the sweetness of the fish ; and the goodness of the
tree, by the rareness of the fruit : then may every man give
a guess of the internal habit and excellent qualities of your
inward mind, by the outward behaviour and apparent sem
blance of your exceeding chaste, and more than admirable,
demeanour in every respect.
And thus, hoping your Honour will as debonairly accept
of these Trifles, as I dutifully bequeath them unto you ;
and with the sun-shining favour of your gracious aspect
deign to read these few lines : craving both privilege, and
pardon, for all such faults and defects as shall happen to
be discovered in the same,
I humbly devote myself unto
Your Ladyship's thrice-virtuous and immaculate
disposition and command whatsoever,
Who am bound, as a vasssal,
To do homage unto the same for ever,
R. T.
271
To the Gentle, and Gentlemen, Readers
whatsoever.
(ENTLEMEN. As the Fencer first maketh a
flourish with his weapon before he cometh
to strokes, in playing [for] his prize : so I
thought good, pro forma only, to use these
few lines unto you, before you come to the pith of
the matter.
What the Gentleman was, that wrote these verses,
I know not ; and what She is, for whom they are
devised, I cannot guess : but thus much I can say,
That as they came into the hands of a friend of mine
'•[? the R. B. of page 340] by mere fortune; so hap
pened I upon them by as great a chance.
Only in this I must confess we are both to blame,
that whereas he having promised to keep private the
original ; and I, the copy, secret : we have both con
sented to send it abroad, as common ; presuming
chiefly upon your accustomed courtesies. Assuring
ourselves, if we may have your protections, we shall
think ourselves as safe as ULYSSES did, when he
was shadowed under the shield of PALLAS against
furious AJAX ; so we, by your countenances, shall
be sufficiently furnished to encounter against any
foul-mouthed JACKS whatsoever.
To censure of this Work is for better wits than
272
To THE READER.
rv. Simi
mes.
597-
mine own: and it is for Poets, not Printers \This
therefore was written by VALENTINE SIMMES, the
Printer of this Book. See also page 340] to give
judgement of this matter. Yet, if I may be bold to
report what I have heard other Gentlemen affirm,
Many have written worse ; Some, better ; Few, so
well. The Work, being so full of Choice and Change
as, it is thought, it will rather delight every way than
dislike any way.
Thus, courteous Gentlemen, building upon my
wonted foundation of your friendly acceptance, I
rest your debtors ; and will study, in what I can,,
daily to make you amends.
Yours always
[VALENTINE SIMMES.]
273
Alia bellissima sua Signnra.
E. C.
[The Lady's name was E. CARIL : see Book II., Poem XXXIII.,
at page 313.]
H ROUGH thee, not of thee, Lady fair I write ;
Through power of Beauty, not of Virtues, thine :
With zealous will, though slender be my might,
I, weakling, seek an eagle's nest to climb.
Then guide my feet ! and if to slip I chance,
Uphold me by the favour of thy glance i
Accept in gree these verses rudely penned ;
A sign of duty which to thee I owe :
And deign with sweet regard them to defend ;
Which as condemned else are like to go.
In thee, it rests the stamp on them to set :
If current, Pass ! Suppressed ! if counterfeit.
And though the note, thy praises only fit,
Of sweetest bird, the dulcet nightingale :
[R and T stand Disdain not little Robin RedbreasT yet !
here, and else
where, for the \A line wantinscA
initials of the L
Author. E.A.] What he doth want in learning or in skill ;
He doth supply with zeal of his good will
ENG. GAR. VIII. 1 8
274 POEM TO MISTRESS E. CARIL. [R-
Tofte.
1597
For only Thee, they were devised alone :
And unto Thee, they dedicated are.
Who knows ? Perhaps this kindness, by thee shown,
Shall make this glimpse shine like a glittering star.
Such is thy virtue in the World his sight ;
Thy crow though black, may go for swan most white.
Then doubt me not, though parted we remain :
In England thou ; and I in Italy.
As I did part, I will return again,
Loyal to thee ; or else with shame I'll die !
True Lovers, when they travel countries strange,
The air, and not their constant minds, do change.
Cesium, non animum, mutant, qui trans mare currunt.
Affettionatissimo servid, clelld
divina Bellezza sua.
R. T.
LAURA.
ORTUNE, cross-friend to ever-conquering
Love,
Our bodies, Lady, hath divided far ;
But yet our constant minds she cannot move,
Which over-strong for her devices are.
Woe's me ! in England thou dost bide,
and I,
Scarce shadow of my self, in Italy.
But let her do her worst, and what is frail
And mortal seek to separate and undo ;
Yet what immortal is, she never shall !
A string too high for her to reach unto.
In spite of envious seeds, by malice sown,
My heart shall aye be thine ; and mine, thine own !
Padoa.
II.
| HOUGH I do part, my heart yet doth not part ;
My poor afflicted body parts in twain,
And doth in pieces two divide my heart :
One piece my fainting spirit doth sustain,
The other part I leave with thee behind,
(The better part, and of my heart most dear) ;
Then to that part, so parted, be thou kind !
And to the same impart thy loving cheer !
That I, returning, may again unite
This parted heart ; and find for grief, delight.
London.
276 LAURA. — PART I. [R-
III.
Tofte, &c.
1597-
[IKE to the blacksome Night, I may compare
My Mistress' gown, when darkness 'plays his
prize :
But her sweet face, like to the sun most fair ;
When he in glory ''ginneth to arise.
Yet this no whit the other doth disgrace ;
But rather doubleth Beauty in the place.
Contraries like to these set opposite,
So dainty and so pleasing in their show
To lookers on, do breed no small delight ;
And pleasure great thereby to them doth grow.
O wonder strange ! O solace sweet ! to see
In one self subject, Night and Day to be.
IV.
|N the Egean dangerous Sea of Love,
In midst of faithless waves and wicked wind ;
Where, to my cost, most bitter brunts I prove ;
A new ARION, there, myself I find.
And though, as he, I play on harp and sing ;
Yet cannot cunning mine so high aspire
As for to make the skipping fish me bring
Unto that wished shore I so desire.
Only my LAURA, peerless for to see,
May, in this troubled flood, my dolphin be !
R.Tofte,&c.-
,&c.-| pART l_L A v R
V.
|REAT was the strife between the sun on high
And my fair Sun, when first she 'gan to 'pear,
Who should exceed in brightest majesty ;
And show in sight of spacious world most clear.
The sun did shine ; but she did lighten bright,
And so his burning beams extinguished quite.
Nay more, my Sun on sudden to the sun
Sent light ; and yet no light at all did want :
Where else the other had been quite undone
For lack of brightness ; which with him was scant.
The beauty then the sun doth use to show,
My Sun doth give ; and from her, it doth grow.
VI.
|URNED to a stone was he that did bewray,
Unwitting, to the crafty thief himself
The theft ; not thinking he had stolen the prey,
In hope to gain a little paltry pelf.
So I, who unawares to cruel Thee,
The robber of my heart, confessed the theft ;
A senseless stone like BATTUS am to see :
Only in this unlike that shape bereft,
That where to worthless stone he turned was ;
I for a Touchstone true of Love do pass
278 LAURA. — PART I. [R
Tofte, &c
1597-
VII.
|OWN from the neck unto that dainty Breast,
(Which Nature made a Mirror of Delight ;
And where a World of Beauties sweet do rest)
Doth hang a costly Chain of Pearl most bright
And of proportion are so just and round,
That such in India rich cannot be found.
Besides, their orient brightness is alike ;
So that mine eyes are dazzled with the same,
And, not much used to see so fair a sight
(A sight which doth the sun in glory stain),
Cannot discern, though them they both do see,
If Breast be Pearl, or Pearl in Bosom be.
VIII.
]O give that life, which had not breath before ;
PROMETHEUS, from above, stole heavenly fire:
For which his boldness he was plagued sore,
A just reward for such a high aspire.
So whilst I steal from thee, my heaven above,
The heat which doth revive my dying sprite :
For rashness, mine eternal grief I prove.
Yet, though our fault 's all one — the plague 's not like :
He feels of vulture one, alone, the smart ;
But I have thousands, which still gnaw my heart.
R-Tofte-^;] FART I. — LAURA. 279
IX.
OVE, being blind, hath wrought me damage sore ;
Thou, blind in this my loving, evil wast ;
Nor would I see the snare, being blind far more,
Wherein myself, I did entangle fast
Yet hath this blindness harm done unto none
But unto Beauty's buzzard, me alone.
When blinded Boy did catch my harmless heart ;
Thou didst not see the net so intricate
Which bound me (being blind, blind as Thou art !)
To be a thrall in this most wretched state.
So that, alone to work my misery,
LOVE blind is ; blind wert Thou ; and blinder, I,
X.
F, LAURA, thou dost turn 'gainst me in hate ;
Then me, such busses sweet why dost thou give ?
Why check'st thou not the Cheeks which give the
mate?
The vital cause whereby I breathe and live?
Perhaps it is, because through too much joy,
As in sweet swound [swoon], I might away depart :
If so thou do, and think me so to 'noy ;
Kiss hardly ! and with kissing, breed my smart !
Content am I to lose this life of mine ;
Whilst I do kiss that lovely lip of thine.
280 L A u R A.— PART I. *'
XI.
PON triumphant chariot, 'passing rare,
(In which my Sun doth sit like Majesty :
And makes the day shew unto us more fair ;
Whose cheerfulness delights each mortal eye.)
I, rash, like to another PHAETON,
With hare-brain haste, too hasty lept thereon.
But for my boldness dearly did I pay ;
And had like plague, as he, for being o'er-brave :
Yet though in equal fortune both did stay
(For life he lost ; and death She to me gave) ;
The punisher of both was not the same,
For he, by JOVE ; and I, by LOVE"; was slain.
XII.
[HE beauty, that in Paradise doth grow,
Lively appears in my sweet goddess's Face ;
From whence, as from a crystal river, flow
Favour divine and comeliness of grace.
But in her dainty, yet too cruel, Breast,
More cruelty and hardness doth abound ;
Than doth in painful Purgatory rest.
So that, at once, She's fair, and cruel, found :
When in her Face and Breast, ah, grief to tell !
Bright Heaven she shows ; and crafty, hides dark Hell.
JR. Tofte, &c
1597
PART I. — LAURA. 281
XIII.
HlLST angry JUNO, from the scowling skies,
Thick swinging showers did downward send
amain ;
My Lady, mounting up in stately wise,
From heaven more fast did fiery lightning rain.
So that the people, passing, had less harm
By water wet, than by the fire o'erwarm.
The water only wet their outward skin ;
A matter small, in which was danger none :
But this her fire did burn their hearts within ;
And forced them, as they went, to sigh and groan.
So that their grief was greater, sans all doubt,
To have within fire, than water, without.
XIV.
HE swift Meander, turning, winds so fast,
And with his stream in circle-wise so runs ;
That, wanton-like, from whence he springs, at last,
Back to his fountain-head again he comes.
In me, a river huge of tears, from heart
To watery eyes ascend ; from whence they flow,
And running down, do from mine eyes depart,
Descending to my heart again below.
So that, through virtue of most mighty Love,
In heart, a new Meander I do prove.
282
A u R A — FART I.
|~R. Tofte, &c.
L IS97-
XV.
I Hou stranger, who with wand'ring steps dost wend,
Thy gazing eyes turn quickly unto me !
And to my speech, with list'ning ear attend !
In whom four Elements united be.
Mark well ; and, as a wonder, tell the same
Of CUPID'S force ! poor Lovers' TAMBURLAINE t
First this my body 's Earth, and earth most cold.
The Fire within my heart, in covert lies.
The Air 's my sighs. Mine eyes do Waters hold.
Thus for my Saint, he doth me martyrize.
Earth is my body ; (Strange seems not this same ?)
The Air, my sighs ; eyes, Water ; heart, the Flame.
XVI.
|F lovely Lass, for Fairing thine, of me
Gold, in this Fair, thou meanest for to have ;
Then give me of thy hairs ! which golden be.
Give unto me ! since thou of me dost crave.
Nor by this bargain, shalt thou loss sustain ;
Or ought hereby shalt hindered be, sweet Wench !
Since I, to courteous thee, do give again,
As thankful, gold ; for gold in recompence.
Thy treasure, so shall mine be ; mine, as thine :
Nor shall th' exchange be worse than gold most fine.
R.Tofte,&c.
,&c.-]
XVII.
OCKED in a cradle, like as infants be,
When I was young, a little wanton child,
Two dainty dugs did nourish life in me ;
Whilst oft on them, with teat in mouth, I smiled*
Ah, happy I ! thrice happy, might I say ;
Whilst in that harmless state I then did stay.
But now that I am come to man's estate ;
Such dugs as nursed me in delight and joy
Do seek my death, by poisonous sugared bait ;
Whose sight, without possession, breeds me 'noy.
So what, in childhood, caused me to live ;
Now, in my youth, doth death unto me give.
XVIII.
F Sea, no other thing doth shew to be
Than most unstable waters moving oft :
With pardon, Lady, you this seem to me ;
So most unstable is your changing thought.
I, likewise, hold a River, that o'erwhelms
With wat'ry salt, within these eyes of mine.
Then let us make a mixture 'mongst ourselves
Of this unsteadfastness and wat'ry brine !
Let 's fashion, both of us, a novel Sea !
So heaven, the Haven ; and Love, the Bay shall be.
284 L A u R A. — PART I. [R-
Tofte, &c.
I597-
XIX.
ADY, the sun was in Aquarius
When thou wert born ; which is the reason why
The water of my plaints delight thee thus ;
Without once viewing me with piteous eye.
But when as I was born, the Sign I guess
In Cancer was ; a show of my distress.
This is the cause, within my boiling breast
Doth burn a hot and unextinguished fire :
But contrary these Signs in us do rest ;
Nor do they well accord to my desire.
Far better had it been, Aquarius's Sign
Had happed to me ; and Cancer's had been thine !
XX.
HAT time, with brow, the Loveliest 'gins to scowl ;
Shewing disdain and fury in her face :
Methinks I see the clouds wax dark and foul ;
And gloomy night begins to run his race.
But, then again, when She to show begins
Her smiling cheer, adorned with favour rare :
Straightways the sun, in chariot bright forth springs ;
Clear are the skies ; the gladsome day, most fair.
Thus, in one face, I see, against my will,
The rising of the sun ; and falling, still.
R- Tofte PART l.—L A U & *. 28
XXI.
I ANKLE the wound did in my head apace ;
When fairest She, to play the Surgeon came :
And whilst her snow-white hand did me the grace
To lay the plaster on, which healed the same,
A wonder strange ! No sooner did she touch
The hurt ; but it appeared to be none such.
Yet, woe is me, no sooner by that hand
Was healed in head my outward fest'ring wound ;
But that instead of that, as countermand,
One mortal scar at inward heart I found.
Thus, LOVE ! thou seest is changed my estate
She checks with Death, that 'fore gave Life for mate.
Venice^
XXII.
F in the midst of kindling burning fire,
That worthy Roman burnt his valiant hand ;
I like another MUTIUS in desire,
Have scorched my fist likewise, through LOVE'S
command,
In freshest moisture ; where my Lady sweet,
Her lily hands, for coolness, dived oft.
But though desire between us was alike ;
Yet was the matter diverse which we sought.
He chose to burn his hand, with courage bold,
In flaming fire ; and I, in water cold.
2S6
L A u R A — PART I.
FR. Tofte, &c
L 1597
XXIII.
[HE Gentiles used, in sign of sacrifice,
The blood of men to offer ; to appease
The warlike goddess's wrath, in humble wise ;
And through the same, her angry mind did please
But Thou, more wicked Warrior far than she,
In reason may'st more cruel termed be.
On Beauty's altar, to thee dedicate;
Thousands of Lovers, mustering on a row,
Offer their blood and hearts ! yet mitigate
Thy hardened mind cannot : which flint doth show.
Then is she cruel less than Thou art now :
Since blood her pleased ; and Thee hearts cannot bow.
XXIV.
OR to behold my Sun, I from the sun
Did seek my face to shadow with my hand,
To shield me from the heat, that 'gan to come
In place, where gazing on her I did stand.
But I no sooner from that sun was free,
But that, in that self instant and that time,
I, of mine own Sun, found myself to be
Burnt with the heat ; a most unlucky sign.
So whilst a shade from sun did me defend,
A Sun more hot did hurt me in the end.
R.Tofte &C.-1 pART J _L A V RA. 287
XXV.
HlTE was the orient pearl which, on a day,
That hand me gave : which scorns the proud
compare
Of purest white ; and bears the palm away
As of all pearly Fairs, the orient'st fair.
And whilst She offered unto me the same,
I knew not which the Pearl was, of the twain.
So white the hand was of my peerless Pearl
As it did dazzle with delight mine eyes,
And pearl seemed to me, giving me the pearl ;
Which made me, sighing, say in whisp'ring wise,
" Ah, why once may I not so happy be,
This Pearl to have ; which th' other gives to me ? "
XXVI.
HEN you appear, appears the Break of Day ;
And shews to be most fair and passing bright :
But if you keep yourself unseen away,
The Day shows not ; but keepeth out of sight.
Then if again you 'gin yourself to show ;
Behold the Day to shew itself afresh
With sky most clear. So both of you do grow
In beauty like : in heat nor are you less.
Thus if your beams you ope, or hidden been :
The Break of Day appears ; else ne'er is seen.
288 L A u R A.— PART I. R- To
XXVII.
USTLY of thee, Love partial, I complain
That, at one instant and with one self stroke,
Thou darted hast into my heart, with pain,
Cold chilly frost ; and fiery flaming smoke.
Ay me ! within me, both I secret hold :
And whilst th' one burns me, th' other makes
me cold.
Then, Cruel, since thou wilt, two contraries,
Against my soul, within my heart shall rest :
Ah, yet make peace 'twixt them, in loving wise !
Or else, sweet Love, do promise this at least !
Flame to my frost, and water to my fire ;
Life to my heart, to comfort my desire.
XXVIII.
lANA shineth in the heavens clear ;
Because from purest Sun she takes her light :
And Fair, she shews that of DIANA here
On Earth, doth borrow beauty passing bright
The virtue then that is infused in her,
She from DIANA hath ; or else from none :
For other thews do all in her concur ;
And unto her beholding are alone.
O wonder strange of Nature to reveal !
She, DlAN' gives ; yet doth from DIAN' steal.
Sienna.
R.
289
XXIX.
j|S burnished gold, such are my Sovereign's Hairs ;
A brace of stars divine, her blackish Eyes ;
Like to the fairest black the raven bears ;
Or fairer, if you fairer can devise.
So likewise fair 's the beauty of her Breasts ;
Where Pleasure lurks, where joy still dallying rests.
This VENUS' Bower, you rightly may compare
To whitest snow that e'er from heaven fell ;
Or to the mines of alabaster fair.
Woe 's me ! JTis sweet to sleep in CUPID'S cell !
Whilst he, the heart makes surfeit with delight ;
Through golden Hair, black Eyes, and Breast most white.
XXX.
|NTO thy favour (which when Nature formed,
She went beyond herself with cunning hand),
I may compare what is, in world, adorned
With beauty most ; and with most grace doth
stand.
But every mortal whiteness, ne'er so white,
The ivory white of thy white hand exceeds :
So that my soul, which doth fair whiteness like,
Rests on fair whiteness, and on whiteness feeds.
For this is thought, and hop£d of from thee :
White as thy hands, so white thy faith shall be.
ENG. GAR. VIII. 19
290
L A u K A. — PART I.
"R. Tofte, &c.
XXXI.
ADY, thou seemest like FORTUNE unto me ;
When I most wistly mark, how thou dost go
With golden tresses loose (a joy to see !) ;
Which gentle wind about thy ears doth blow.
And as thou her resemblest in this sort ;
So dost thou in attire, and all thy port.
Only thou wantest for thy swift right hand
The rolling Wheel : and shadowing Veil to hide
Those eyes ; which, like Controllers, do command.
But if thou long'st of these to be supplied,
Take me, thy prisoner, for to play this part !
For my desire 's the Wheel, the Veil 's my heart.
XXXII.
HOU, merry, laugh'st, and pleasantly dost smile :
I woeful weep, and mestful sorrow still ;
Lest this thy mirth increasing, me beguile,
And weave a web for me of greater ill.
Too well perceive I this thy deep disdain,
By this thy feigned looks and cloaked glee.
Thou of disaster mine art glad and fain ;
And fain my death, as basilisk, would'st see ;
Since that of war and 'bate this laughter is,
And not of gentle peace and calmy bliss.
R.Tofte,&c.J pART J
XXXIII.
INCE thou hast changed thy gown and thine attire ;
Ah, change thy thoughts ! not always cruel be !
And with new clothes, put on a new desire !
That new, in every point, I may thee see :
And if thou heretofore unkind hast been ;
Be courteous now, and gentle be thou seen !
Thy glory great, thy praise more shalt thou find ;
If, of unconstant, constant thou become !
And of a foe, a faithful friend and kind !
Then change henceforth thy thoughts ! else I, undone.
Give me that colour which so likes mine eyen !
If death, then black : if life, then carnatine \rosy red].
XXXIV.
(HANGED is my nature in me ; where before
I like was to a chilly freezing ice ;
I now a flame am, burning inward sore :
And such a flame that burneth in such wise
That if LOVE and my Mistress take no care
For this my hurt, my soul must quickly die.
Yet one doth see (for both not blinded are !)
The fire so hot doth burn, wherein I fry,
That fierce PERILLUS'S boiling Bull of brass
May unto this for icy substance pass.
292 LAURA, — PART I. |-R.xofte,
597-
XXXV.
]AR better had it been, I had been dead,
And laid full low in latest home, my grave ;
Than with that drink myself for to have fed,
Which LAURA mine in crystal glass me gave.
The liquor pleased me, I must needs confess :
Yet to my heart, 'twas poison ne'ertheless.
So that I had contrary quite effect
To my desire ; which I so much did wish.
Love was in fault, who Reason doth reject.
And see my cruel luck, what happed in this !
The wine was sweet ; yet did his nature turn :
It cooled my mouth, but heart within did burn.
XXXVI.
|WEET sang thy bird, in ebon cage shut fast,
And did delight thy dainty ears so much
As thou vouchsafedst to give him meat at last ;
And gently did his feathers stroke and touch.
So, Lady, I likewise, in th' ebony
Of thy bright eyes am prisoner, and do sing
Thy Beauty's praise ; and yet not fed am 1
By thee : yet live through thee ; a wondrous thing !
Love to my heart thy beauty doth supply
For food ; which else, through famine starved, would die.
R. Tofte, &c.~| PART T T A rr D A
'597.J rART 1. JL. AURA. 293
XXXVII.
|F white 's the Moon, thou LAURA seem'st as white ;
And white 's the gown which you on body wear.
And if her whitely horns, in calmy night,
She, smoothly gliding, shows to us most clear :
You, in the daytime, more and brighter far
Your beauty show ; like bright AURORA'S star.
Like brightness both of you abroad do cast ;
Though not effect alike per accidens:
You shine, she shines, your powers eternal last ;
But yet between you is great difference.
Her brightness freezeth, causing deadly cold :
Yours doth inflame, and lovely fire doth hold.
XXXVIII.
|VEN as the lamp goeth out, that oil doth wan t,
Or as the sun doth fall in th' Occident ;
So did my heart within me 'gin to pant ;
My vital spirits away by little went :
When, taking on me pity, graciously
My Mistress's hem of garment, trailing down,
Touched me ; and me revived suddenly.
Then if such virtue be within her gown ;
Imagine what doth stay her corpse within !
Which who seeth, through sweetness needs must sin.
294 LAURA. — PART I. [R'Tofteis^:
XXXIX.
I RATED on marble was my Lady blithe,
Holding in hand a crystal looking-glass ;
Marking of Lovers thousands ; who alive,
Thanks only to her beauty rare, did pass.
To pry in glasses likes her : but afterward
She takes the nature of the stone most hard.
For whilst she cheerfully doth fix her eyes,
Gazing upon the brightness of the one ;
Her heart, by th' other 's made, in strangy wise,
Hard as a rock and senseless as a stone :
So that if Love this breaketh not in twain ;
It will a flint become, to others' pain.
XL.
O more a man, as once I was, am I :
Since this new ClRCE, moved by fierce disdain,
Hath changed me to a Fountain never dry ;
1 Wherein myself, with bitter tears I bain [? bathe\
Then am I one who always eyes do bear;
And breast of water flowing only full.
Take heed, you Lovers all, of her ! and fear
The sugared baits of this deceitful Trull !
Lest by this ClRCE new, you be deceived,
As I have been ; and be of shape bereaved.
295
The Conclusion of the First Part.
HE Macedonian Monarch once did deign,
In cheerful sort, in kind and loving wise,
To feast in village with a homely Swain ;
Who entertained him, as in country guise,
With curds and creams, and such like knacks he
had.
Whereof the courteous Prince accepted glad.
So, Lady, boldly I presumed have,
To invite you to a sorry banquet base ;
Nor to disdain the same, of you I crave !
Though cates too coarse for you ; too poor, the place.
I cannot, as I would, give curds and cream ;
But milk and whey : my fortune is so mean.
Yet (if you shall accept it graciously ;
And with your favour sweet, this board adorn)
The virtue which is in you, presently,
The whey, to curds ; the milk, to cream shall turn.
But if your look (you angry) turn away ;
The milk shall still be milk ; the whey, still whey.
Then as the sun in glorious wise doth shine
As well on valley low as mountain high ;
Vouchsafe one cheerful glimpse of favour thine
On poor me, from out that heavenly eye !
Unworthy I, such grace ! I do confess :
Yet worthy thou to do so, ne'ertheless.
R. T.
LAURA.
THE SECOND PART.
I.
F I somewhile look up into the Skies,
I see, fair Lady, that same cheerful light ;
Which, like to you, doth shine in glorious
wise:
And if on th' Earth, I chance to cast my
sight ;
The moveless centre firm to me doth show
The hardness which within your heart doth grow.
If Seas I view, the flowing waves most plain
Your fickle faith do represent to me.
So as I still behold you, to my pain ;
When as the Skies, or th' Earth, or Seas I see :
For in your seemly self doth plain appear
Like faith ; like hardness ; and like brightness clear.
II.
ARVEL I do not, though thou dost not see
My griefs and martyrs ; which I still sustain.
For thou, the Mole of Love dost seem to me ;
But if a Mole, th' art only to my pain.
How comes it then that, seeing thou art blind,
Thou me consum'st, as if thou had'st thy sight ?
Why, as thy nature by instinct doth bind,
Stayest not below ? Pack hence, and leave this light !
Either those eyes still shut, not me to grieve ;
Or under ground, in darkness, always live !
298 LA URA.— PART II.
III.
7
|F whilom, in times past, that Spartan Lass
(" The Flower of Greece," Dan PARIS'S costly joy)
Through her fair feature, the only causer was,
So many Knights were slain at Siege of Troy :
Thou, LAURA, art unlike unto her far !
In this our Age, a much more blessed star.
For she brought Wars, Strife, -Death, and Cruelty ;
Where thou, alone, bring'st Peace and Pleasure still.
Ah, happy thrice, that ligs in love with thee !
And if, by chance, un'wares, thou sometimes kill :
Thou, with thy smile, the wound canst heal again ;
And give him life, whom thou before hadst slain.
Pisa.
IV.
HOOT forth no more those darts from lightning
eyes !
Unkind ! Why seek'st to stop my fainting breath ?
Go, and invent some new kind exercise ;
New weapons seek wherewith me to offend !
Play the right Tyrant ! Choices use in death ;
Whereby, I dying, content may rest thy will.
But tell me ? Wouldst so fain my life should end ?
And know'st not, Sweet extremes do sudden kill?
Cruel, kiss me but once ! and thou shalt see
Ended my life with that same kiss to be.
K.
V.
F what is heavy craves the Centre base ;
The earth below, as Nature wills the same :
Heavy the woeful griefs are, in this case,
Which inward in my heart I do sustain.
And if what Js light, by kind, aloft doth mount :
Then light 's my love with thee, of light account.
So that in doubtful dangerous extreme,
Wretch that I am ! myself am sore afraid :
And doubt of thee, so far from Golden Mean ;
Nor know I well out of this depth to wade.
Lest that my life be shortened, or I die ;
Whether it heavy, falls ; or light, ascends on high.
VI.
ADY, what time I seek in mournful note
To show mine agonies and bloody moan,
My Voice doth fail ; and hoarse and harsh my
throat :
And this doth come through you, through you alone.
The whilst I think, by means of you in Song,
To mitigate some part of this my smart ;
Instead thereof, you do me double wrong :
And with a glance you take away my Heart.
So that I find great hurt by this your theft :
Since where, before but Voice, now Heart, 's bereft.
30O
L A u R A. — PART II.
~R. Tofte, &c.
'597-
VII.
S rocks become, exposed 'gainst waves and wind,
More hard ; such is thy nature, stubborn Dame !
Opposed 'gainst waters of my plaints most kind ;
And winds of mine hot sighs, which inward flame,
That hardness such to increase 'bout heart is found,
As to it, soft might seem the diamond.
Henceforward then, let no man think to move
By weeping or lamenting, to his will,
This self-willed Saint ; which too too well I prove
A senseless stone to be unto me still.
Since, to my grief, from all good luck debarred ;
With plaints and sighs, she doth become more hard.
VIII.
ARK, Lovers ! Hark, a strange miracle
Of one, deprived of heart; yet death doth 'scape !
Mine L. a flower gave me, which sweet did smell ;
And for the same, away my life did take.
So that I only breathe through scent of flower ;
And without heart, not without life, I live.
Then is not this, of might LOVE his power
A wonder strange ? which he for sport doth give :
When that a flower sustaineth me alone
With life ; who in my body, heart have none.
R. Tofte, occ. i KAPT I I / A TT z> A -JQI
IX.
HEN I did part from thee the other night ;
Methought a foul black dog, with ugly shape,
Did follow me : and did me sore affright ;
And all the way did greedy on me gape.
Nor I this cur, how he at me did howl,
Can well as yet forget, with chaps most foul.
Then thinking of his colour, hateful black ;
Methought some ill, my thought did fear to come,
And said within me, " Turn again, turn back !
If forward thou dost go, thou art undone ! "
Then pardon, Lady, if I back again
Am come this night, with you for to remain.
X.
Y mourning Mistress's garments, black doth bear;
And I in black, like her, attired am !
Yet diverse is the cause why black we wear ;
She for another's death doth shew the same.
I for another reason bear this suit ;
Only to show by this, my outward weed,
Mine inward grief (although my tongue be mute)
Of tender heart ; which deadly sighs doth bleed.
Thrice happy I, if, as in habit \dress\ we
Are both in one, our minds both one might be.
302
L A u R A. — PART 1 1 .
I. Tofte, &c.
1597-
XL
F April fresh doth kindly give us flowers ;
September yields with more increase the fruit.
Sweetest, you have in bosom, Beauty's Bowers,
Both these sweet tides : whence forth they
always shoot
Both flower and fruit. All only you, alone,
Can give me, when you please ; or else can none.
O dainty bosom, bosom rich in price,
Surmounting mountains huge of beaten gold ;
Whose whiteness braves the whitest snow that lies
On highest hills, whose height none can behold.
In you, my soul doth hope, without annoy,
Both Spring and Harvest, one day to enjoy.
Roma.
XII.
, cunning Painter, hast thou with great art,
The Shadow \Image\ of my lovely LAURA fair ;
Which object sweet not smally joys my heart :
But little didst thou think, nor wast thou 'ware,
That where thou thought'st my fancy for to please,
Effect contrary sorts to my desire :
So that it breeds, in body mine, unease ;
And, senseless, burns my heart with feeling fire.
O strange success ! What made was for content
Doth most displease ; and, lifeless, doth torment
, &C.J pART J J _L A v R
XIII.
HEN first the cruel Fair deigned graciously
To look on me with kind and courteous view ;
And cast on me a lovely glancing eye :
She knew not that I was her servant true.
But She no sooner 'ware was of the same ;
But that She turned her back with great disdain.
So as the wound I then close bare in breast ;
I now, through grief, show outward in my face :
But if that She, by whom I wounded rest,
Lives in compassion cold towards me, sans grace :
Hard hearted is She, cruel was She to her friend ;
And wicked shall be, world withouten end.
XIV.
HEN first the sun did shine upon her eyes,
Who fairest 'mongst her beauteous sex doth show;
The heavens her dainty corpse, in courteous wise,
Covered with chilly cold and whitest snow.
She, through the nature of that humour cold,
Both coldest Ice, at once, and purest White
Draws to herself. Then none, for strange should hold ;
Though, to me, fair and cruel is her sight :
Since that the heavens, for favours, did impart
A snow-white corpse to her, and frozen heart.
304 L A u R A.— PART II. [R Tofte;5^;
XV.
HE dusky cloud in sky, with shadow dark,
Doth cover oft the sun's most clearest light
So as his beams we cannot see, nor mark ;
And he himself doth play at least in sight.
Ah were I such a cloud on earth to cover
My sweetest Sun ! as doth that cloud, the other.
But if that cloud do vanish soon away,
And doth as momentary pass and vade ;
Eternal would I be to hide her aye,
And of a harder mixture would be made.
O happy I ! O fortunate eclipse !
With kissing so to darken those fair lips.
XVI.
ROM milk of JUNO, as the Poets feign,
The Lily had its whiteness, passing white :
And from ADONIS' blood, that lovely Swain,
The Rose his colour red, which doth delight.
Thou, pretty Soul, hast both the colours rare
Of these sweet flowers ; which others all exceed.
Thy breast 's a bed of beauteous Lilies fair ;
Thy dainty cheeks, pure damask Rose breed.
O fruitful garden flow'ring ; where appear
The Rose and Lily at all times of year !
R. Tofte, &c.T
JS97-J
PART II. — L AURA.
305
XVII.
F constant love, I am the wasted fire ;
The furious wind 's my Lady's angry eye:
Who whilst She kindles both, through wrathful ire,
The flame increaseth, mounting to the sky.
In midst is LOVE, half dead of grievous pain ;
And, doubtful, winds about like sparkling flame.
He fears the heat : and trembles, being turned
Unto this blast ; which still more sharp doth rise.
Nor is his fear in vain, when so he is burned :
For one of these must hap, in sudden wise,
Either the fire must spoil him as his prey ;
Or whirling wind else blow him quite away.
XVIII.
|Y LAURA wonders that, in visage pale,
I bear of Death itself, the lively show :
But if She muse at this, her musing 's stale ;
Far this sad colour had I long ago.
The fire, close burning in my veins, doth make
That outward ashes in my face you view :
But if that She would on me pity take,
Who is the cause of this my palish hue,
This kindled heat shall die, which now doth burn ;
And my first colour shall again return.
£NG. GAR. VIII. 2O
306 L A u R A.— PART II. [R'Toftei±:
XIX.
HlLST foaming steed I spur unto the quick,
To make him gallop to my Love amain :
Love doth my thoughts, through Fancy, forward
prick ;
The end of wished journey mine to gain.
But light 's his hurt ! Tis but a little smart !
Where mine is mortal, sounding to the heart.
Run then, my gelding swift, like Pegasus !
Fly hence with wings ! for wings hath my desire :
Both of us, forced amain, are forward thus,
And kindled in us is a burning fire.
Thou, through two spurs in flank, provoked art sore :
But thousands inwardly, my heart do gore.
XX.
ICH is the diamond, a gem of price;
Yet such the nature strange is of the same,
That who the powder thereof drinks, straight dies ;
And, as if poison 'twere, doth take his bane.
So thou another precious jewel art ;
In name and nature not unmuch alike :
Since death thou giv'st unto the loving heart ;
If but a kiss one sucks from thee most sweet.
Whilst he doth swallow down his sugared bait ;
The joy 's so great, it kills him through conceit.
R. Tofte, &c.'
1597- .
L A u R A. — PART II.
307
XXI.
HE Grecians used to offer up their hair
Unto their rivers : whom they did esteem
As mighty gods ; and them great honour bare,
As if no virtue small in them had been.
Do thou the like, sweet LAURA, unto me !
Who, for my love, deserves a greater fee.
Thy golden tresses on me do bestow !
Who hold whole rivers flowing in mine eyes :
Yet would not I, thou off shouldst cut them though.
Dost muse ? and ask, How this thou may'st devise ?
I'll tell thee. Give thyself to me for mine !
So shalt thou give, uncut, thy tresses fine.
XXII.
NE lovely glance, which from the eyes did pass
Of Lady mine, hath changed my gentle heart
From hardest diamond to brittle glass :
And now again (unto my bitter smart),
Through dreadful frown, she turns it suddenly
As 'twas before, from glass to diamond.
So if She will, She may (and presently,
As likes her) change me ; who to her am bound,
If cruel She ; my heart is hard to break :
If pitiful ; 'tis gentle, brittle, weak.
;o8
L A u R A. — PART II.
J. Tofte, &c.
1597-
XXIII.
Wo winds, one calm, another fierce, to see ;
Th' one of the Spring, of Winter th' other right :
I plainly, Lady, do discern in thee !
The first, which makes me joy, breathes from
thy sight
Such dainty flowers, in diverse coloured show,
As makes to blush Dame IRIS'S rainy bow.
The second, which makes me to pine away,
Blows from thine inward breast, a deadly blast ;
Where doth eternal hardness always stay,
Which I do see eternal aye to last.
So as calm ZEPHYRUS, in face, thou art !
But rough as boisterous BOREAS, in thine heart.
XXIV.
O sooner do I earnest fix mine eyes
On my fair Sun : but that I her perceive
To vanish like a cloud, in darkest wise ;
As if, eclipsed, her light it did bereave.
I know not, If She's troubled thus because
She doth disdain I should behold her so :
Or if for fear, this shadow to her draws ;
Lest me her beams should hurt, which glistering show.
Say then, sweet LOVE, for thou know'st best, if still
I shall behold her ; or no more, thou will.
R. Tofle, &c.~|
IS97-J
PART II. — L AURA.
309
XXV.
THAT I were s\y PROTEUS ! for to take
On me that form which most I like or wish :
Then would I change myself unto the shape
Of that thy little whelp, thy joy and bliss.
Into that little worm thou so dost like ;
And dallying, play'st with him both day and
night.
Those savoury smacks, those busses, sweet which be,
Which thou to him dost give, should all be mine :
And I would make my heart to leap for glee ;
Whilst I did lick that bosom fair of thine.
But since I to despair of this am brought :
My wish shall PROTEUS be ; thy dog, my thought !
XXVI.
AY, gentle friend, tell me in courtesy,
Before what was I ? and what am I now ?
A senseless Shadow, or a Body, I ? "
" Neither of both. Mark, and I'll tell thee how.
No Body now : for that, by proud disdain
Of scornful She, dislived was. Shadow none ;
For that did underground go with the same,
Unwilling it should wander all alone."
" What am I then ?" " Even one that doth not know
What now he is : or what he was, can show."
io L A u R A.— PART II. [R- Tofte;5^;
XXVII.
HE Blazing Star foretells the hapless fall,
And sudden death of others, soon to come.
To me a Face, brighter than Comets all,
Doth, with her looks, my fortune hard forerun ;
And with her shooting darts, from glancing eye,
Presageth that, ere long, I needs must die.
The Blazing Star death only prophesies ;
This doth foreshew to me a harder fate :
And dares me to mine end, in warlike wise ;
Nor how this Challenge know I to escape.
Ah, cruel Star ! of death not only sign ;
But murderer th' art of this poor life of mine
XXVIII.
HE Crow makes war with the Chameleon ;
And, being hurt, to th' laurel straight doth fly :
And, through the fruit he findeth thereupon,
Is healed of hurt, finds food, and lives thereby.
LOVE the Chameleon is ; the Crow am I :
And battle wage with him unto the death.
He wounds me deadly ; whereupon I hie
To thee, my LAURAL ! to restore my breath.
Thou me reviv'st. Such virtue Js in thee rife
As thou, at once, dost give me food and life.
R. Tofu, &c.J pART J J __£ AURA. 311
XXIX.
MONGST the Parthians is a kind of ground
Of nature such as, though it far doth stand
From fire : yet fire to take it straight is found ;
And flying thither, burns it out of hand.
This prey so sure of Love am I, fair Dame !
And you to me, which burneth me, the flame.
So that if I, to you far off do show ;
You kindle straight in me a quenchless fire :
And yet, although within it burn me so,
Sweet is the heat whose fuel is desire.
For rather I, in fire near you would be :
Than freed from flame, you farther off to see.
XXX.
OVE, ope my heart ! Hot fire thou forth shall take,
Open my LAURA'S ! In it thou shalt find
Cold frost. Then of these two contraries make
But one ; and that same one, frame thou more
kind !
Of both our hearts, make but one loving heart !
And give it unto which thou please, of twain.
Give it to her ! To her do it impart ;
Or unto me ! It skills not much the same.
I'll doubt no more, when but one heart we have
Between us both : for this is all I crave.
3i2 L AUR A.— PART II. [K- Tofte;5&9°
XXXI.
iNTO an Image may I right compare
My Mistress, since so cruel She 's to me :
Which standeth for a sign or shadow fair ;
To which the simple ignorant bow with knee :
And though with eyes, mouth, ears, and feet it show;
Yet doth it neither see, talk, hear, or go.
So plays my Choice, when I appear in sight :
Nor see, nor speak, nor hear, nor stay She will.
So as an Idol, She resembleth right ;
Blind, mute, deaf, moveless, senseless standing still.
Then am not I worse than a lifeless block ;
To worship such a painted coloured stock.
Fiorenza.
XXXII.
|OTH gems, and pearls, their proper value have ;
But yet unlike : for not alike 's their price.
Some sought forare,and each one doth themcrave J
Others, more base, do pass in worthless wise.
A jewel rich, and princelike gem, is She
Whom I esteem ; and such account of make :
Yet in herself no price hath for to see.
For it is holden at so high a rate
As all the gold, nor silver, which doth lie
In th' earth, or sea, the same, at worth, can buy.
R. Tofte, &c.~| PAI«T IT T A rr r> A
;S97J JrART 11. L, AURA. 313
XXXIII.
F love, wherein I burn, were but a fire ;
I quenched it had, with water of my plaints :
If water, these my Plaints ; I this desire
Had dried through inward heat, my heart that
taints.
But LOVE, that in my griefs doth take delight,
Both fire and water turns, to work me spite.
Fly then, this LOVE ! since such is his great power
As waves to fire, and fire to waves, he turns :
And with an absent Beauty, every hour,
My fainting heart with Fancy's fuel burns ;
And, 'gainst all sense, makes me, of CARe and IL
More than of good and comfoRT, to have will.
XXXIV.
JIVERS unto the Sea do tribute pay.
A most unconstant moving Sea art thou !
And I, within mine eyes, bedewed aye,
.A River hold of bitter tears as now.
Receive then, from these moistened cheeks of mine,
Into thy lap, the water forth I pour !
Of duty mine, and of thy debt, a sign :
And mix together with my sweet, thy sour !
So shall the water to the water be
More precious ; and the Sea, more rich to th' Sea.
or/I T 4 TJ j? 4 PAPT 1 fR. Tofte &c.
0J4 ^ A U K A. rAKT 11. 15g?>
XXXV.
JUCH is the virtue of the sunny heat,
As seizing on the Cockle Shell (which lies
On seaish shore), whereon his beams do beat,
It makes it brightly shine, in orient wise :
So that, through secret power of radiant sun,
Of worthless shell, a pearl it doth become.
So, Lady, you, through force of Beauty's power,
If you shall deign to glance on me your eye,
And rain with grace on me a smiling shower,
A jewel rich you make me by and bye :
And if no pearl ; at least a precious stone.
This, only, can you do ; or else can none.
XXXVI.
I HE blood of fair ADONIS, VENUS changed
Into a flower : who, whilst he did pursue
In forest thick, where as he hunting ranged,
The savage boar to kill ; the boar him slew.
Do thou the like, sweet Love ! Do thou the same,
Whilst now my life doth languish, through thy power :
And whilst my wound makes me for to remain
Withouten blood, transform me to a flower !
That where I, living, cannot ; dead, I may ;
A loved flower in LAURA'S bosom stay.
PART II.— £ AURA. 315
XXXVII.
|N ocean Sea of water calm am I ;
Wherein kind LOVE the form of Fish doth take,
Leaping alongst the shore most wantonly.
Then, Lady, of a Fisher don the shape !
Ah, what sweet fishing shall you have to like ;
If LOVE you chance to catch, while he doth bite?
Come then, and naked into this water hie !
He cannot 'scape ; but, here, perforce must bide !
'Less to my heart, to save himself, he fly.
Then quickly strip thyself ! Lay fear aside !
For of this dainty prey, which thou shalt take ;
Both Sea, Fish, and Thyself, thou glad shalt make.
XXXVIII.
]ICH Damask Roses in fair cheeks do bide
Of my sweet Girl, like April in his prime :
But her hard heart, cold chilly snow doth hide ;
Of bitter Januar, the perfect sign.
Her hair of gold shows yellow like the corn
In July, when the sun doth scorch the ground ;
And her fair breast, ripe fruit which doth adorn
September rich. So as in her is found
Both Harvest, Summer, Winter, Spring to be :
Which you in breast, hair, heart, and face may see.
LAURA. — PART II.
[*•
Tofte, &c.
1597-
XXXIX.
|H' immortal PARCLE, fatal Sisters three,
Of mortal men, do sing the shunless fate :
What once Was, what Is now, and what Shall Be \
Their life, their death, their fortune, and theh
state.
Our Song let be like theirs ! for Three they were ;
And so our number is. Three are we here.
Sing LAURA then ! Sing LOVE ! and sing will I !
Of dreary fortune mine, sing let us all !
Let 's sing in doleful tune most mournfully,
How 'Tis, how 'Twas, and hapless still Shall fall ;
The Present, Past, and (which none can mend)
What Shall Be, world to come, withouten end,
XL.
HE heavens, their restless sphere do always move.,
in thee doth move the faith, which thou didst
plight.
And I, IxiON-like, still in my love
Do roll ; and yet I roll my wheel aright.
So that, 'twixt us, continual motions wend.
But which is worse, unconstant Wench, I see !
The heavens will have their motions without end ;
Which, never ceasing, roll continually :
And thou, like them, to roll dost mean thy fill ;
And since 'tis so, I'll roll too, against my will !
317
The Conclusion of the Second Part.
Hus is the Second Course now served in.
A Course too coarse for such a dainty Dame :
Yet, Lady, though the cheer be bad and thin ;
Because it comes of zeal, accept the same !
And though not worthy of your grace it be ;
Yet make it gracious through your courtesy !
Great sumptuous feasts the stomach doth dislike ;
Which oft, in body dangerous surfeits breed :
Where dishes few revive our sense and sprite ;
And Nature 's pleased on little for to feed.
This, as a sauce, your appetite to move,
Accept ! where meat 's the heaRT, where
cook is LOVE.
Nor think the worse, though I have spun a thread
So fine (I mean your praise) I cannot mend :
Since 'tis a Work to ground the wisest head ;
And mar I should this loom, this cloth not mend.
So VENUS' matchless shape APELLES drew ;
But how to finish it, he never knew.
Far more 's my mind than is my feeble might.
My pencil, for thy picture is too weak.
The sun is only for the eagle's flight.
My strength's too small, this hardened ice to break.
Not painted, scarce I thee have shadowed here :
This task 's for such as have in skill no peer.
R. T.
LAURA.
THE THIRD PART.
I.
Ho joys in love ? The Heart alone, to see.
Who languisheth in love ? The Heart
alone.
Then is 't a thing impossible for me
To joy or languish : since I Heart have
none.
Withouten Heart ! Then tell me, What am I ?
Even bones and flesh united cunningly.
The Soul, where is Jt ? Love that hath ta'en away :
My Body only resteth in his place.
Deprived of Soul and Heart, how live ? I say,
I live, maintained by love, in this strange case.
O wonder strange, the Body live to see ;
The Heart and Soul in other place to be.
Napoli.
II.
HAT crimson gown, with drops of blood ywrought,.
Which LAURA wears, a token is most true,
How that of blood desirous is her thought :
And that 'tis so, I best can tell to you.
My wronged heart too well doth find the same ;
Who, thousand times, not once, hath wronged been
By her : and, now, to aggravate my pain,
(More cruel in desire for to be seen),
By outward habit [dress] covets She to show
What, inward, in her mind She hides below.
^20
L A u R A. — PART III.
TR. Tofte, &c.
1597-
III.
HE flaming torch, a shadow of the light,
Put out by hasty hand, doth colour change ;
And black becomes, which seemed before most
bright :
Nor so to show is any marvel strange.
So was I long a lively fire of Love ;
The heat whereof my body oft did prove :
But I, at last, by one who moaned my woe,
Extinguished was, by pitiful Disdain.
Then if my colour black in face do show,
You need not much to wonder at the same ;
Since 'tis a sign, by part to know the whole,
That Love made me a fire, Disdain a coal.
IV.
ARDONED of every wicked fact was he,
To HEBE'S Tenple that, with prayers, came :
And, of such grace in sign, his bonds, as free,
He left hung up on high within the same.
I, Lady, erred have ; and humbly come
To thee, who art the Temple fair of Love :
Off ring to thee my prayers, all and some,
To free me from my faults, thy heart let move !
In token of which gift, with thee I'll leave
My jealous thoughts ; wherewith I did thee grieve.
R. Tofte, &C.
, &C.J
V.
F thou art cold, as is the Winter's snow ;
I, as the Summer, hot am most extreme :
Then let 's unite thy heart, which cold is so,
To mine so warm ; and make of both a mean !
So th' one a help to th' other still shall be ;
And linked in concord, as two doves shall 'gree.
To form this frame, LOVE shall the workman play.
Then let 's with July, January mix !
Let 's make, between us, an eternal May !
An everlasting truce, twain betwix !
Thy Winter, with my Summer let us join !
My fire so warm, with frost so cold of thine !
VI.
HE cruel NERO used on golden hook,
The harmless fish to catch with sugared bait :
So courteous LOVE, fishing, me quickly took ;
Whilst he with dainty prey for me did wait.
Yet far more fortunate am I in this :
For whereas NERO'S hooks most sharp did kill ;
The other hooks revive the taken fish,
Whilst they do hold him gently by the gill.
But hooks they are none ! For hooks they are too fair !
Two golden tresses be they of fine hair !
ENG. GAR, VIII. 21
122
LAURA. — PART III.
-R. Tofte, &c.
J597-
VTL
HEN She was born ; She came, with smiling eye,
Laughing into the world, a sign of glee.
When I was born ; to her quite contrary,
Wailing I came into the world to see.
Then mark this wonder strange ! What nature gave ;
From first to th' last, this fashion kept we have.
She in my sad laments doth take great joy :
I, through her laughing, die ; and languish must,
Unless that LOVE, to save me from this 'noy,
Do unto me, unworthy, shew so just
As for to change her laughter into pain ;
And my complaints, into her joy again.
VIII.
|N LOVE his kingdom great, two Fools there be
My Lady 's one ; myself the other am.
The fond behaviour of both, which to see ;
Whoso but nicely marks, will say the same.
Foolish our thoughts are. Foolish, our desire.
Foolish our hearts in Fancy's flame to fry.
Foolish to burn in Love's hot scorching fire.
But what ? Fools are we none. My tongue doth lie.
For who most foolish is, and fond, in love ;
More wiser far than others, oft doth prove.
R. Tofte, &C.1 P \ UT T T T
I597-J .TART 111. ^ A U R A. 323
IX.
O sooner LAURA mine appears to me ;
But that a dainty dye, or blushing red,
In both our faces showeth for to be.
But who, alas, doth mine so overspread ?
O'er-fervent LOVE doth draw this shadow pure ;
Like cunning'st Painter, long for to endure.
Who painteth hers ? Disdain, with pencil hard ;
Which turneth all my sweetness into sour.
So that all my designs are quickly marred ;
Except LOVE bind Love, by his awful power,
In Faith's firm bands. Too high th' exchange will
grow,
When love, for hate ; and not for like, shall go.
X.
HCEBUS had once a bird, his chief delight,
Which, only 'cause he had an evil tongue,
He made him black ; who was before most white.
So if all those who, Lovers true have stung
With spiteful speech, and have their loves betrayed ;
Or to their Ladies false be and untrue,
Setting at nought the promise they have made ;
LOVE would but change into this coal-black hue :
Thousands abroad, like sea-coal crows should show ;
Who, now unknown, for snowy swans do go.
324
L A u R A. — PART III.
TR. Tofte, &
IS9:
597-
XI.
JN silver stream, on shallow fountain's shelf,
The lively image saw he in the same ;
Who was in love with shadow of himself:
Through pride forgetful how his likeness came.
Such one myself, by chance, I see to be ;
When as in river I myself did see :
Yet I myself, instead of loving, hate.
And- such strange hatred is this, and so strong ;
That while he, loving, died by justest Fate,
Himself by seeing, whilst he himself did wrong :
I die will unto him contrary clean ;
'Cause I, hating myself, myself too much have seen.
XII.
OY of my soul ! My blind fold eyes' clear light ?
Cordial of heart ! Right methridate of love !
Fair orient pearl ! Bright shining margarite !
Pure quintessence of heaven's delight above !
When shall I taste, what favour grants me touch ;
And ease the rage of mine so sharp desire ?
When shall I free enjoy, what I so much
Do covet ; but I doubt in vain, to aspire ?
Ah, do not still my soul thus tantalise ;
But once, through grace, the same imparadise !
. Tofte,
XIII.
] A INTER, in lively colours draw Disdain !
Dost ask, How that may rightly shadowed be?
I'll tell thee. If thou, fine, wilt do the same ;
My Lady paint ! and thou Disdain shalt see.
Fond man ! dost not believe ? or think'st I jest ?
If doubtful thou remain, then hear the rest !
Mark her but well ; and thou shalt, in her face,
See right Disdain : which, coming from her eyes,
Makes her to look with most disdainful grace ;
Then if thou seest it, in so plain a guise,
Straight shadow \_painf\ her! For this one counterfeit
[picture]
Of her, and of Disdain, shall show the shape.
XIV.
ITH gold and rubies glistereth her small hand ;
But if you match them with her lips or hair,
They seem withouten brightness for to stand
The others have such lively colours fair.
O worthy Beauty ! peerless A PER SE !
To whom all other Beauties are most vile.
O fairness such as fairer none can be !
Thou grace itself, of graciousness dost spoil !
With rubies, thou right rubies dost disgrace !
With gold, bright gold thou stainest in his place !
326
L A u R A. — PART III.
PR. Tofte, &c.
L 1597-
XV.
GENTLE tame deer am I, called a Hart :
The cruel huntress fierce my Mistress is.
With crossbow bent, she comes to me in Park ;
Paled in with pleasant thoughts of wanton wish.
She shoots, and hits me ; takes me for her prey :
And (having shot, hit, taken) flies her way.
Back she retires from me, with pleasant smile ;
Unloosing me, and heals my wound and pain :
When, as afresh incensed (alack the while !)
'Gainst me, desirous me to plague again,
She turns towards me, o'ertakes me, strikes me sore :
And, binding up my wounds, makes deadly more.
XVI.
HE golden tresses of a Lady fair ;
At first beginning were of this my love :
But now, at last, unto my double care,
To be the end of my sad life I prove.
Then did my doubtful spirit live in hope :
But now he fears, despairing as it were,
Because he doth perceive in sudden broke
His hope, which dying heart did help and bear ;
Since that the hair, that Alpha me did bind
In love, of life the Omega I do find.
327
XVII.
JWEET LAURA, in the water look no more,
To see if feature thine be fair or no !
Look in mine eyes ! which tears rain streaming
sore
Of bitter plaints ; whose water clear doth show,
As in a looking-glass, most bright to thee,
Those favours which in that sweet visage be."
So said I to her : when She answered blive,
" And thou, my Love ! say, Dost thou likewise wish
To see thyself in one that is alive ?
Then in this breast, look where thine image is !
Love shall alike in both our bodies rest :
Bear thou me in thine eyes ; I'll thee in breast ! "
XVIII.
F, cruel, thou desirous art of blood ;
Behold how I do bleed in streaming wise !
Glut then thyself therewith, if thou think good ;
And do content, with blood, thy bloody eyes !
From breast it comes, where fainting heart doth lie ;
And for a gift, I it present to thee !
Although I know, through this, I soon shall die ;
And yet to die it little grieveth me :
Since 'tis my wish, my blood with soul as one
May rest ; and that's with thee, or else with none.
328
LAURA. — PART III.
fR. Tofte, I
15
XIX.
HAT ivory hand, a fan most white doth hold ;
And to the milky breast blows wind apace ;
And yet is full of chilly ice most cold ;
Disgrace to others, to herself a grace.
But I, who wistly mark these whiteness' three,
Vouchsafe^ sweet LOVE, this boon to grant to me !
Distil within the rolling of mine eyes,
By virtue of thy power, such hidden flame ;
And let it tempered be, in such strange wise,
That, as I cast my look upon the same,
It quite may take away her cruelty !
Melt straight the ice ! and fan burn suddenly !
XX.
HE snakes, amongst themselves, so carefully
Love one another, wonder for to see !
As if th' one want, the other straight doth die.
Lady, unto these snakes unlike we be !
For if I die, thou diest not for my death ;
But, through my pain revivest ! Such is thy spite !
And pleasure tak'st to see me void of breath.
Ah, yet in love let 's unto them be like !
Thou CUPID, work ! that I, poor snake in love,
This 'sdainful snake for to be kind may move.
R. Tofte, &c.] L AU R A.— PART III. 329
XXI.
AURA is fair and cruel both in one ;
And born was of a dainty diamond.
Then is it marvel, neither wonder, none ;
Although her heart as hard as stone be found.
Nature that hardness, as a Keeper, gave
To her, her beauty thereby so to save.
But fond is he, and simple in conceit,
That thinks LOVE will not, one day, burst the same.
Then quickly, mighty Lord, quickly this break !
Break thou this stony heart, so hard, in twain !
Unto thy power, let Nature's force still yield !
And be thou Conqueror 'gainst her in Field !
XXII.
HE snow-white Swan betokens brightsome Day :
The coal-black Crow, of darky Night is sign.
Thou Day, or Night, bring unto me still may,
With those bright lamps, those glistering stars,
of thine.
But, cruel thou, thy heart is bent so hard,
As I that sun can never see with eyes
(That wished-for sun, from these my lights debarred) :
Nor aught discern but mists, in foggy wise.
Then since I live in woe ; and, blind, nought see :
A Crow, not Swan, thou still shalt be to me !
330
L A u R A. — PART III.
. Tofte, &c.
1597*
XXIII.
AY, CUPID, since thou wings so swift dost bear ;
Within my heart, alone, why dost thou lie ?
Why dost not seek to lodge some other where ;
And to some other place, why dost not hie ?
Go unto her, who hath the lily breast !
Who though she hates me ; yet I love her best.
If her, to entertain thee thou shalt find ;
It is a sign she hateth me no more.
Straight then, return again ; and show her mind
To my desire ! who for this news longs sore.
Then, prithee, go ! No longer ling'ring stay !
Lest, when thou wouldst, thou canst not go thy way.
XXIV.
N quicksedge wrought with lovely eglantine,
My LAURA laid her handkercher to dry ;
Which had before snow-white ywashed been.
But after, when she called to memory,
That long 'twould be before, and very late,
Ere sun could do, as would her glistering eyes :
She cast from them such sparkling glances straight,
And with such force, in such a strangy guise,
As suddenly, and in one selfsame time,
She dried her cloth ; but burnt this heart of mine.
R. Tofte, &c.
, &c.J
XXV.
OLD upon gold, mine only Joy did plate,
Whilst She did dress her head by crystal glass :
But whilst She looked on it, it sudden brake ;
So as, amazed thereat, much grieved She was ;
To whom I said, " To grieve thus, 'tis in vain :
Since what is broke, whole cannot be again.
Look steadfastly, with both thine eyes on me !
Who have my heart, through love, a glass new made.'*
She on my face looked ; and herself did see :
Wherewith contented th' roughly, thus She said,
" Most happy I ! Since for to dress my head,
For broken glass, of whole one I am sped."
XXVI.
HE heavens begin, with thunder, for to break
The troubled air ; and to the coloured fields,
The lightning for to spoil their pride doth threat.
Each thing unto the furious tempest yields.
And yet, methinks, within me I do hear
A gentle voice, hard at my heart, to say :
" Fear nothing, thou ; but be of merry cheer !
Thou only safe, 'fore others all shalt stay.
To save thee from all hurt, thy shield shalt be
The shadow of the conquering Laural Tree."
Fano.
332 L A u R A.— PART III. [R- Tofteis^:
XXVII.
OVE this fair Lass ! " said LOVE once unto me.
I loved her. " Love her now," saith he, " no
more ! "
When thousand darts within my breast there be ;
And if I love her, he me threateneth sore.
He saith, " Himself is fallen in love with her ;
And that himself, 'fore. others, he'll prefer!"
His sense is this. He, in her beauteous eyes,
Hath found such Amours as ne'er like were seen :
But thinks he, this shall serve, in cunning wise,
To make me leave ? he cozening me so clean ?
In spite of him, I'll love ! sith heart doth 'gree,
With LOVE in love as rival for to be.
XXVIII.
|Y Mistress writing, as her hand did shake,
The pen did dash, which on her gown did spurt :
One drop, more higher than the rest did take ;
And to presume to touch her breast it durst.
Upon her dainty bosom it did light :
Wherewith she blushed, in show like damask rose.
Presumptuous black ! how dar'dst thou touch that white,
Wherein a World of gladsome pleasure grows ?
Yet, spite of envy, happed it for the best :
To the white, more grace ; more beauty, 'twas to th' breast.
R. Tofte, &c.-| PATJT TTT T * rr n ,
I597.J TART ill. — LAURA. 333.
XXIX.
ONE dares now look more on my LAURA'S face,
So dangerous is her beauty to behold :
For he no sooner gives to her the gaze ;
But straight his heart, She takes from him so bolcL
Such virtue 's locked within those ebon eyes ;
Where, dallying with Delight, Dan CUPID lies.
So sweetly rolleth She that radiant sphere,
As She, from whom She lists, robs suddenly :
So as to look on her, each one doth fear ;
And yet to look on her, spare will not I !
For though I lose my Heart, and him disease *
I like shall my Desire ; and her I'll please.
XXX.
NBARE that ivory Hand ! Hide it no more !
For though it death brings to my tender heart
To see it naked, where is Beauty's store ;
And where moist pearl with azure doth impart
Yet fear I not to die, in this sweet wise !
My fancy, so to see 't, is set on fire.
Then leave that glove ! (most hateful to mine eyes ! )
And let me surfeit with this kind desire !
So that my looks may have of them their fill ;
Though heart decay, I'll take it for none ill.
Mantoa.
L A u R A. — PART III.
TR. Tofte, &c.
L 1597-
XXXI.
Y Mistress seems but brown," say you to me.
'Tis very true, and I confess the same :
Yet love I her although that brown She be ;
Because to please me, She is glad and fain.
I loved one most beautiful before ;
Whom now, as death, I deadly do abhor.
Because to scorn my service her I found ;
I gave her o'er, and chose to me this same.
Nor to be faithful, think I, I am bound
To one, in whom no kindness doth remain.
This is the cause, for brown and pitiful ;
I left a fair, but yet a faithless, Trull.
XXXII.
|HlTE art thou, like the mountain-snow to see ;
I Black, like to the burned coal do show :
Then give some of thy purest white to me !
And I'll some of my black on thee bestow :
So will we these two contraries unite
Together ; which so joined, will show more fair.
Let 's both then make this change, for our delight ;
Unless to kill me, thou do little care !
But why of White or Black, talk I to chee ?
My blood not black 'tis ; which thou fain wouldst see.
R. i-ofte, &C.J pART \\\m— LAURA. 335
XXXIII.
S sacrifice unto a goddess bright,
My heart I offered with devotion great :
Thinking that She, Love's Temple had been
right
But what, un' wares, I spied not then, in heat,
I, wary, now discern her for to be :
Of hell below, the rightest cruelty.
I was deceived, I do confess. That smile,
That wanton smile, that bred in me delight,
Hid in those lips so fair, did me beguile.
O beauty false ! O cruelty most right !
Flee, flee my heart ! flee then, if thou be wise,
Thy hurt ! my burning heat, her treacheries !
XXXIV.
TRANGE is this thing ! My horse I cannot make
With spur, with speech, nor yet with rod in hand,
Force him to go ; altbough great pains I take.
Do what I can ; he still, as tired, doth stand.
No doubt he feels a heavy weight of me ;
Which is the cause he standeth still as stone :
Nor is he 'ware that now he carrieth three ;
He thinks, poor jade, I am on 's back alone.
But three we are, with mine own self I prove :
LAURA is in my heart ; in soul is LOVE.
Pesaro.
336 L A u R A.— PART III. r* Tone, &c.
L '597-
XXXV.
HEN I, of my sweet LAURA leave did take ;
Fair Fano's city, for a while to leave :
She gave to me, to wear it for her sake,
Of gold and pearl a dainty woven wreath.
Dear was the gift ; because for love it came :
But dearer more ; 'cause She gave me the same.
I look on Jt still, and kiss it as my joy ;
Kissing and bussing it, with it I play :
Which, at one instant, brings me mirth and 'noy ;
And sighing oft thus to myself I say :
" White pearls are these ; yet hath her mouth more fair •
Fine gold is this ; yet finer is her hair!"
Fano.
XXXVI.
]!TH thousand bands of furious inward heat,
Love binds my soul ; and burns my gentle heart
And, two ways, LAURA, death to me doth threat
With Colour fresh ; and wanton Eye, like dart.
This for reward for all my love I gain.
For my goodwill, two enemies I have :
LAURA and Love. Four plagues conspire my pain,
Because I like ; and what 's but just, do crave :
Fire, roseal Colour, Eyes, and cruel Band.
These, at the gaze of Beauty, make me stand.
R. Tofte, &C.J pART 1 1 1 _
XXXVII.
]F scalding sighs, my faith may testify;
And brinish tears, of love may warrant be :
Both th' one and th' other thou hast seen with eye !
Then what wouldst have, hard hearted ! more of
me?
But thou, perhaps, though much I have endured,
Wouldst yet be better of my faith assured.
Then with thine eyes, into my breast do peer !
Which, for the nonce, I leave to open sight ;
And that which now thou doubt'st, see shalt thou clear.
Ah, mark it then ; and view what shows so bright !
But too too cruel art thou, and precise ;
That will not credit give to thine own eyes !
XXXVIII.
[HE hapless ARGUS, happy in this same,
The glory of the sun's surpassing light ;
The brightness of the stars, the fire which stain :
With hundred eyes, behold them always might.
But I, alas, who have but only twain,
Cannot behold the beauty of my Sun !
For which I live as blind, in endless pain ;
And count myself, for want thereof, undone.
I can but wish that I an ARGUS were !
With hundred eyes to view her everywhere.
ENG. GAR. VIII 22
338
LAURA. — PART III.
. Tofte, &c.
1597-
XXXIX.
N vasty sea, fain would my slender Muse
Wade in thy praise ! to praise thy beauty right
But, Lady, I for pardon crave excuse.
To break such waves, too brittle is her might !
Meantime, with lowly verse, in humble show,
Along the shallow shore I'll wading go.
The time may come, perhaps ere it be long,
That this my Quill, more bold, may write thy praise :
And venture for to sail in th' ocean strong ;
Though now, on gravelled shore it fearful stays.
And whereas now, to dip his foot he fears :
He then shall dive himself o'er head and ears.
Fano.
XL.
HEN I did part, my soul did part from me ;
And took his Farewell of thy beauteous ey'n :
But now that I, returned, do thee see ;
He is returned, and lives through kindness thine
And of thee looketh for a Welcome Home.
I then, not any more, to sorrow need ;
Now I am come : and if before, alone,
On Shadow then ; on Substance now I feed.
So if my parting bitter was and sad :
Sweet 's my return to thee, and passing glad,
339
The conclusion of the last Part.
1 1 MANTES, when he saw he could not paint
With lively colours, to his lasting fame,
Such works he took in hand ; and found
too faint
His cunning : seeking for to hide the same,
He over them a subtil Shadow drew;
So that his faults, or none, or few, could view.
So, Lady, I finding my wit too weak,
With current terms, your beauty forth to blaze ;
And that to arrive, too blunt is my conceit,
Unto the height of your surmounting praise :
With silence forced am, against my will,
To shadow my defect, the want of skill.
Yet do I hope, the Shadow you'll not scorn :
Since Princes, in their stately arbours green,
Account of shade, as trees which fruit adorn ;
Because from heat they welcome shelters been.
The Shadow shields, 'gainst sun, your beauty fair;
Which else his scorching heat would much impair.
Then though a Shadow without fruit I be ;
And scarce yield leaves to cover this my bark :
Accept these leaves, thy Beauty's Shade, of me !
Where wealth doth ebb, goodwill doth flow from
heart.
Deign me, for all my love, but Shadow thine !
Thy Substance 's too too high for fortune mine.
R. T.
340
A Friend's just Excuse about the Book
and \the\ Author ; in his absence*
IITHOUT the Author's knowledge, as is before
said by the Printer [at pp. 271, 272]; this
Poem is made thus publicly known ; which,
with my best endeavour, the Gentleman
himself, suspecting what is now proved too true, at my
coming up, earnestly intreated me to prevent. But
I came at the last sheet's printing ; and find more
than thirty Sonnets not his, intermixt with his.
Helped it cannot be, but by the well judging Reader r
who will, with less pain distinguish between them,
than I, on this sudden, possibly can. To him then,
I refer that labour.
And for the Printer's faults passed in some of the
Books ; I have gathered them in the next page.*
With the Author, bear, I pray ye ! whom I must
intreat to bear with me.
R. B.
* These four Corrections have been embodied in the text. E. A.
1589.
Est natura hominum novitatis avida.
THE SCOTTISH QUEEN's
Burial at Peterborough,
upon Tuesday, being Lammas Day
[ist August] 1587.
LONDON.
Printed by A. J. [ABEL JEFFES] for EDWARD VENGE
and are to be sold at his shop
without Bishops Gate.
-<rS- U3r
[The unique copy of this Tract is preserved in the Advocates' Library
at Edinburgh. As it is however, somewhat confusedly written ; its
information has been corrected and completed from other contemporary
sources.
+ This is quite incorrect. The following is a truer account :
On Sunday, being the 3oth of July, 1587, in the 2gth year of the reign
of ELIZABETH the Queen's Majesty of England, there went from Peter
borough Master WILLIAM DETHICK, alias Garter Principal King of
Arms, and five Heralds, accompanied by 40 horse and men, to conduct
the body of MARY, late Queen of Scots, from Fotheringhay Castle in
Northamptonshire (which Queen had remained prisoner in England
nineteen years) : having for that purpose, brought a royal coach drawn
by four horses, and covered with black velvet ; richly set forth with
escutcheons of the Arms of Scotland, and little pennons round about it.
The body (being enclosed in lead ; and the same coffined in wood)
was brought down, and reverently put into the coach.
At which time, the Heralds put on their Coats of Arms, and bare
headed, with torches' light, brought the same forth of the Castle, about
ten of the clock at night : and so conveyed it to Peterborough [eleven]
miles distant from Fotheringhay Castle.
Whither being come, about two of the clock on the Monday morning
[3ist July] ; the body was received most reverently at the Minster Door
of Peterborough, by the Bishop, Dean and Chapter, and [ROBERT
COOKE] Clarenceux King at Arms.
And, in the presence of the Scots which came with the same, it was
laid in a Vault prepared for the same, in the Quire of the said Church,
on the south side ; opposite to the tomb of Queen KATHARINE [of
Arragon], Dowager of Spain, the first wife of King HENRY the Eighth.
The occasion why the body was forthwith laid into the Vault, and not
borne in the Solemnity ; was because it was so extreme[ly] heavy, by
reason of the lead, that the Gentlemen could not have endured to have
carried it, with leisure, in the solemn proceeding : and besides, [it] was
feared that the solder might rip ; and, [it] being very hot weather, might
be found some annoyance.
A Remembrance of the Order and Manner of the Burial of MARY,
Queen of Scots. Printed in Archceologia, I., 155 [for 355], 1770.
The following additional details are given in the Account drawn up-
by [Doctor RICHARD FLETCHER] the Dean of Peterborogh. See S.
GUNTON, History of the Cathedral of Peterburgh, p. 78. Ed. 1686.
The body, with the closures, weighed nine hundred weight ; which
being carried, and attended orderly by the said persons, was committed
to the ground in the Vault appointed : and immediately the Vault was
covered, saving a small hole left open for the Staffs to [be] broken into.
There were at that time, not any Offices of the Church Service done :
the Bishop being ready to have executed therein. But it was by all that
were present, as well Scottish as others, thought good and agreed, that
it should be done at the day and time of Solemnity.]
I'he Scottish Queen's Burial at Peterborough,
upon 'Tuesday, being Lammas Day
[ist August], 1587.
ER body was brought in a coach, about
100 attending thereon, from Fotheringhay
Castle, upon Sunday [3Oth July], at night.
[RICHARD ROWLAND] the Bishop of
PETERBOROUGH, [RICHARD FLETCHER]
the Dean [of Peterborough], the Prebends,
and the rest [of the Chapter] met the same
at the Bridge ; being not far from the
town : and so conveyed it to the Bishop's Palace, and from
thence upon Tuesday being Lammas Day, [it] was carried to
the Church, where she was buried * on the south side of the
Hearse by torchlight. \See previous page.-\~\
The Hearse \pr Catafalque] was made field-bed wise ; the
valance of black velvet, with a gold fringe ; [and] the top of
* There is a Memorial entered on the wall of the Cathedral of Peter
borough, for one [named ROBERT SCARLET] who, being Sexton thereof,
interred two Queens therein (KATHARINE Dowager and MARY of Scot
land) ; more than fifty years interceding betwixt their several sepultures.
This vivacious Sexton also buried two generations ; or the people in
that place twice over. Thus having built many houses (so I find graves
frequently called domtes ceternales) for others : some, as it was fitting,
performed this last office unto him. [He died on 2nd July 1594,
ast. 98.] THOMAS FULLER, Worthies, &*c., ii. 293., Ed. 1662.
344 THE MOURNERS COME TO PETERBOROUGH. [1SJ,
the imperial covered with baize. About it, were set ten
Posies [of the Motto of the Arms of Scotland], In my
defence, GOD me defend! with ten Scutcheons great and
little ; and, at the top, a double one with a crown imperial
thereupon. The Supporters [were] Unicorns, with 100 pen
nons or little flags. It was impaled with baize ; and in it
[were] fourteen stools, with black velvet cushions.
Upon the pillars supporting the imperial of the Hearse, the
which were all covered with velvet, were fixed Scutcheons :
bearing either [the] Red Lion alone ; or else parted with the
Arms of France, or with the arms of the Lord LENOX.
The Church and Chancel were hanged with baize and
Scutcheons, as at other funerals.
[Here must be inserted some additional information :
Upon Monday, in the afternoon, came to Peterburgh, all
the Lords and Ladies and other Assistants appointed ; and
at the Bishop's Palace was prepared [at Queen ELIZABETH'S
expense] a great supper for them : where all, at one table,
supped in the Great Chamber ; [it] being hanged with black.
Dean R. FLETCHER, in S. GUNTON'S History, £c., p. 78, Ed. 1686,
On Tuesday, being the 1st of August, in the morning,
about eight of the clock, the Chief Mourner, being [BRIDGET
RUSSELL] the Countess of BEDFORD [now the Widow of her
third husband], was attended upon by all the Lords and
Ladies ; and brought into the Presence Chamber within the
Bishop's Palace : which [Chamber], all over, was hanged
with black cloth.
She was, by the Queen's Majesty's Gentlemen Ushers,
placed somewhat under a Cloth of Estate [canopy] of purple
velvet : where, (having given to the [Gentlemen representing,
on this occasion, the~] Great Officers, their Staffs of Office (viz.
to the Lord Steward ; Lord Chamberlain ; the Treasurer,
and Comptroller [of the Household]), she took her way into
the Great Hall.
A Remembrance of the Order, Qr°c. Archceologia, I., 155 [for 355],
1770!
,5gg.] THE ORDER OF THE FUNERAL PROCESSION. 345
The Mourners came out of the Bishop's Palace ; being set
in order by the Heralds thus :
First 100 Releevants ; poor old women, for the most part
widows : in black cloth gowns, with an ell of white holland
over their heads ; which they had for their labour, and nine
shillings apiece in money. These divided themselves in the
body of the Church ; and stood half on the one side, and
half on the other : and there stood during the whole
Solemnity.
At the Church door, the Singing Men and Quiristers met
the Mourners with a Psalm; and led them the way into
the Chancel, continuing singing, with the Organ, until the
Sermon began.
Then followed two Yeomen, viz.: the Sheriff [of Northamp
tonshire]^ Bailiff and the Bailiff of Peterborough ; with black
staves.
And after them [100 poor men, in] Mourning Coats.
Then Sir GEORGE SAVILE, in a Mourning gown, carry
ing the great Standard : viz. a Cross on a Field azure ; the
Streamer, a Unicorn argent in a Field of guiles ; a Posy
written, In my defence, GOD -me defend !
Then followed Mourning Cloaks, two by two, a great
number : whereof the first were the late Queen's Officers.
And after them, Mourning Gowns.
Among these Officers of her House was [Monsieur DU
PREAU] a French Jesuit, her Confessor, with a golden
crucifix about his neck ; which he did wear openly : and
being told, That the people murmured and disliked at it ;
he said, He would do it, though he died for it. Thus we
may see how obdurate their hearts are in malice ; and how
obstinate they shew themselves in the vain toys and super
stitious trifles of their own imaginations.
Then [RICHARD FLETCHER] the Dean [of Peter
borough].
Next the two Bishops: [RICHARD HOWLAND] of
PETERBOROUGH, and [WILLIAM WICKHAM, of] LIN
COLN.
[CHARLES WILLOUGHBY,] the Lord WILLOUGHBY of Par-
liam ;
[LEWIS MORDAUNT,] the Lord MORDAUNT [of Turvey];
[HENRY COMPTON,] the Lord COMPTON ;
346 THE ORDER OF THE FUNERAL PROCESSION. [^
Sir THOMAS CECIL [afterwards Lord BURLEGH, and
later Earl of EXETER] :
All four, in gowns, with White Staffs ; representing the
[Lord] Steward ; [the Lord] Chamberlain ; [the] Treasurer,
and [the] Controller [of the Queen's Household],
After these, 16 Scots and Frenchmen ; which had been
Officers in her [Queen MARY'S] House.
Then Sir ANDREW NOEL alone, carrying the Banner of
Scotland.
Then [WILLIAM, afterwards Sir WILLIAM, SEGAR] Per-
cullis the Herald [Portcullis Pursuivant] bearing the Crown
[or Helmet] and Crest : thereon a red lion rampant crowned,
holding a sword the point upward ; the Helmet overmanteled
guiles powdered ermine.
Then the Target [or Shield, borne by JOHN RAVEN,}
Rouge Dragon \Pursuivant] ;
The Sword by [HUMPHREY HALES] York [Herald] ;
The Coat of Arms by [ROBERT GLOVER,] Somerset
Herald.
Then [ROBERT COOKE] Clarenceux [King at Arms]
with a Gentleman at Arms [or rather, a Gentleman
Usher],
Then followed the Coffin [empty of course'}, covered with
a pall of velvet ; six Scutcheons fixed thereon, upon the head
whereof stood a Crown of Gold.
Six Gentlemen bare [the supposed] corpse, under a velvet
canopy borne by these four Knights :
Sir THOMAS MANNERS,
Sir JOHN HASTINGS,
Sir JAMES HARINGTON,
Sir RICHARD KNIGHTLEY.
Eight Banerols [a Banner, about a yard square, borne at
tJte funerals of great persons] borne by eight Squires ; four
on either side of the Coffin.
After the [supposed] corpse, came the Head Mourner
[BRIDGET RUSSELL,] the Countess of BEDFORD ; assisted
by the two Earls [JOHN MANNERS,] of RUTLAND and
[HENRY CLINTON, of] LINCOLN : [Lucv,] the Lady Su
JOHN of Basing bearing her train.
?
is8g,
] MARY'S HOUSEHOLD AVOID THE SERMON. 347
Then followed, by two and two, other Ladies :
[WILLIAM DETHICK gives us a fuller List of these Ladies than
this Tract. The brackets show those who went together.
ELIZABETH MANNERS, the Countess of RUTLAND.
ELIZABETH CLINTON, the Countess of LINCOLN.
ANNE, the [? Dowager] Lady TALBOT. )
The Lady MARY SAVILE. ' I
ELIZABETH, the Lady MORDAUNT. )
CATHARINE, the Lady St. JOHN of Bletsoe. )
THEODOSIA, Wife of Sir THOMAS MANNERS. )
DOROTHY, Wife of Sir THOMAS CECIL. j
ELIZABETH, Wife of Sir EDWARD MONTAGU. )
MABEL, Wife of Sir ANDREW NOEL. /
Mistress ALINGTON. )
A Scottish Gentlewoman.) ]
The other Gentlemen.
The ten Scottish and French Women of the [late] Queen's
[Household] : with black attire on their heads, of Taffaty
before ; and behind, White Lawn hanging down, like French
Hoods.
They, with the Scottish and French men, did all go out
before the Sermon, except Master MELVIN [i.e. ANDREW
MELVILLE ; and also BARBARA MOWBRAY] who stayed ; and
came in when it was ended.
The Head Mourner and the [twelve] Ladies, with the two
Earls assistant were placed within the Hearse [or Catafalque\.
The two Knights, with their Banners, were set at the East
end of the Hearse, without the pale : and the eight Squires,
with their Bannerols, four of a side, in like manner without
the pale.
All the rest of the Mourners were carried up by a Herald
above the Hearse ; and placed of each side, the women next
the altar.
The Bishop and the Dean [of Peterborough] stood at the
altar, with two gilded basons.
All which being placed and set, and the Church quiet ;
348 BISHOP WICKHAM'S FUNERAL PRAYER. [^
[WILLIAM WICKHAM,] the Bishop of LINCOLN began his
Sermon [out of Psalm xxxix. 5-7].*
And in his prayer [when he gave thanks for such as
were translated out of this Vale of Misery, he] used these
words :
" Let us bless GOD for the happy dissolution of MARY,
late the Scottish Queen and Dowager of France. Of whose
life and departure, whatsoever shall be expected, I have
nothing to say : for that I was unacquainted with the one ;
and not present at the other. Of Her Majesty's faith and
end, I am not to judge. It is a charitable saying of the
Father LUTHER ' Many [a] one liveth a Papist ; and dieth a
Protestant/ Only this I have been informed, That she took
her death patiently; and recommended herself wholly to
JESUS CHRIST."
The Sermon ended, a long piece of velvet and a cushion
were carried and laid before the Countess [of BEDFORD], to
go and kneel upon ; hard before the Bishop [of PETER
BOROUGH]^ feet.
Then, by [Garter,] the King of Heralds, were carried the
four Officers with their White Staffs ; and placed two at
the top of the stairs under the Bishop, and two beneath
them.
Then the two principal Heralds [Garter and Clarencenx\
fetched up the Countess ; the two Earls [of RUTLAND and
LINCOLN] leading her, and the Lady St. JOHN [of Basing]
bearing up her train.
There she kneeled awhile.
And then all returned to their places.
This was the First Offering [for Queen ELIZABETH].
Not[e] that BRAKENBURY went this time before her \the
Countess of BEDFORD}.
The two Earls [were] placed without the pale [of the
Hearse], before the Countess.
One of the Kings of Heralds fetched from the Hearse, the
Coat Armour ; brought it down to the other King of Heralds;
* In the discourse of his Text, he only dealt with general doctrine, of
the vanity of all flesh. Dean R FLETCHER.
ISS9J THE ENGLISH LADIES KISS THE SCOTCH. 349
and he delivered it to the two Earls. They carried it,
obeisance being done to the Countess, to the Bishop [of
PETERBOROUGH] ; and kissed it in delivering of it. A third
Herald took it of the Bishop ; and laid it down on the
altar.
The Sword, the Target, the Helmet, Crown, and Crest, in
like sort was all done by the two Earls : kissing their hands
before them.
Then were the two Banners carried, by one after another,
severally by those that brought them ; and so set upon the
altar, leaning to the wall.
The other eight Bannerols were put into the Hearse as
they stood.
Then went the Countess [of BEDFORD], Master JOHN
MANNERS [acting as Vice Chamberlain,] holding up her
train the second time ; and offered alone [for herself] to the
Bishop.
Then the Ladies and Gentlemen, by two and two, went
up and offered.
Then the [four] Officers with White Staffs offered.
And, last of all, came there a Herald to the pulpit ; and
fetched the Bishop of LINCOLN.
And then the most part of the Mourners departed, in the
same order they came in : and towards the door of the
Chancel, stood the Scottish women, parted on both sides ; and
as the English Ladies passed, they kissed them all.
Then over the Vault, where the body lay ; [RICHARD
FLETCHER] the Dean [of Peterborough] read the ordinary
words of [the] Burial [Service].
And this being done : the four Officers brake their White
Staffs over their heads ; and threw them into the Vault.
[Dean FLETCHER'S The Manner of the Solemnity, &c., concludes thus :
And so they departed to the Bishop's House : where was
35° THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE AT THE FUNERAL. [I5£9.
a great feast appointed accordingly [at Queen ELIZABETH'S
expense*].
The concourse of people was of many thousands.
And, after dinner, the Nobles departed away ; every one
towards his own home.
The Master of the [Queen's] Wardrobe paid to the Church,
for breaking of the ground in the Quire, and making the
grave, £10; and for Blacks of the Quire and Church, £20*]
FINIS.
* The total of Queen ELIZABETH'S expenses for this Funeral
amounted to £321, 145. 6d.
CUPID's Posies,
For Bracelets, Handkerchers, and Rings;
With Scarfs, Gloves, and other things.
Written by CUPID on a day,
When VENUS gave him leave to play.
Verbum sat amanti.
The Lover sheweth his intent
By gifts, that are with Posies sent.
LONDON.
Printed by E. C. for J. WRIGHT, next to
the Globe in Little Britain.
1674.
353
To his Mother VENUS,
CUPID dedkateth
his Posies.
OTHER, your love to me was shown
Before that I could go alone ;
For with Nectar then you fed me,
And in tender manner bred me :
Till perceiving once that I
Was able on my wings to fly ;
I did descend unto the Earth,
With my bow to make some mirth.
For all the World is my Park ;
Where, when I shoot, I hit the mark.
Young Men and Maidens are my game ;
While I, the little Bowman am.
Yet lest you may think my leisure
I do only waste in pleasure ;
These Posies I have writ of late :
Which to you I dedicate,
That so the love may be exprest,
Of your Son that loves you best.
ENG. GAR. VIII 23
354
CUPID'S Posies.
THAT CUPID called am,
And shall never be a Man ;
But am still the blinded Boy
That breeds Lovers much annoy :
Having gotten, on a day,
From my Mother leave to play ;
And obtained use of sight,
I in wantonness did write
These same Posies which I send,
And to Lovers do commend.
Which if they be writ within
The little circle of a Ring ;
Or be sent unto your Loves,
With fine Handkerchers, Gloves :
I do know that, like my dart,
They have power to wound the heart ;
For instead of Flowers and Roses,
Here are Words bound up in Posies.
355
CUPID's Posies.
1. A Posy written on a pair of Bracelets, and
sent by a young Man to his Love.
My Love, these Bracelets take, and think of them no harm ;
Hut since they Bracelets be, let them embrace thy arm !
2. Another.
Receive this Sacrifice in part
From the Altar of my heart !
3. I do owe both Love and Duty
To your Virtue and your Beauty.
4. A Posy sent with a pair of Gloves.
You are that one
For whom alone
My heart doth only care :
Then do but join
Your heart with mine,
And we will make a pair.
5. Another.
I send to you a pair of Gloves
If you love me,
Leave out the G. !
And make a pair of Loves.
6. Another.
Though these Gloves be white and fair,
Yet thy hands more whiter are.
356
7-
CUPID'S POSIES, FOR
Another.
These Gloves are happy that kiss your hands,
Which long have held my heart in CUPID'S bands.
1674.
8. The Posy of a Lover to his disdaining Mistress.
Ut Stella in tenebris,
Sic A mor in adversis.
Englished.
As the Stars in darkest night, so Love despised shining.
9. The Posy of a Handkercher sent from a young Man
to his Love, being wrought in blue silk.
This Handkercher to you assures
That this and what I have is yours.
10. Another.
Love is like a hidden flame,
Which will at last blaze forth again.
1 1. Another in Letters.
My love is true which I. .O. U. :
As true to me, then C. U. B.
12. The Posy of a Ring sent to a Maid from her Lover.
My constant love shall ne'er remove.
13-
H.
Another.
This and I, until I die !
Memento met!
When this you see, remember me !
Like to a circle round, no end in love is found :
Take me with it ; for both are fit.
1 6.
A young Man's conceit to his dear Love, being
wrought on a Scarf.
This Scarf is but an emblem of my love ;
Which I have sent, with full intent my service to approve.
I6?74J BRACELETS, HANDKERCHERS, AND RINGS. 357
17. Another wherein the Lover seeketh her Love.
One was the Bow, one was the Dart,
That wounded us both to the heart :
Then since we both do feel one pain,
Let one love cure us both again !
1 8. A young Mans Posy to his Sweetheart shewing
that love is most violent in absence.
Love is a flame that, with a violent desire,
Dcth burn us most when we are farthest from the fire.
19. As those that die are said for to depart ;
So when you went away, all life forsook my heart :
For though with inward pain, I draw my very breath ;
Yet this I will maintain, Departure is a Death.
20. A Lover coming into a Maiden's chamber in her absence,
did write this Posy on her Looking-Glass.
In this same Looking-Glass, my watery eyes I see ;
But I do wish that thou couldst shew her cheerful eyes to me.
Yet why do I accuse thee here?
'Tis not thy fault ! for thou art clear !
21. Posies of Rings for young Lovers, which have
newly discovered their affection.
Let me serve till I desire !
22. Another.
Had I not spoke, my heart had broke !
The utmost scope of Love is Hope !
23. Love's delight is to unite :
I now do sue for love to you !
24. Love I have, yet love I crave !
CUPID'S POSIES, FOR
674.
25. A Posy of a young Prentice sent to his Love, with
a pair of amber Bracelets.
Let these same bind
You to be kind
Unto me for love's own sake !
And when we meet,
With kisses sweet
We will Indentures make !
And I will bind myself to be
In love a Prentice unto thee !
26. A young Man to his Siveetheart, setting forth the
better effects of a disdained love.
Love is like a Golden tree,
Whose fruit most pleasant seems to be ;
Whiles Disdain doth never sleep
But this Tree of Love doth keep :
Yet I hope you will at last
Think upon my service past !
27. A Posy sent by a young Man to a pretty young Maid
in the same town, with a very fair Point of
coronation [rose pink] coloured Ribbon.
My dearest Love, I send this Ribbon Point to thee,
In hope the young Men of the town shall not still point at me
Because I am thy lover true ;
Then grant me thy love, sweet SUE !
28. The Posy of a Ring.
Thou art my heart.
29. More dearer to me than life can be.
30. A nother.
Love is joy, without annoy.
31. Another.
'Tis in your will, to save or kill.
I6?74-] BRACELETS, HANDKERCHERS, AND RINGS. 359
32. A Posy wrought in red silk Letters upon an •
ask coloured Scarf.
Every Letter here doth show
That my heart is linked to you :
And by this token is exprest
That you are She whom I love best.
33. The Posy of a Handkercher very fairly laced about,
with a flaming Heart wrought in the middle
Great is the grief that I sustain,
Which is here figured by a flame
That doth torment me in each part,
But chiefly seizeth on my heart :
Yet rather than my heart shall turn
From my faith, in love I'll burn.
34. From a young Man, to his offended Mistress.
Dearest, if I have offended ;
Enjoin me then some penance hard,
That my fault may be amended
Ere your favour be debarred :
For if I must penance do,
I'll go unto no Saint but you !
35. A Posy sent to a Maid, being cunningly interwoven
in a silk Bracelet.
Kindly take this gift of mine,
For Gift and Giver both are thine !
36. Posies for Rings.
Faithful love can ne'er remove.
37. Another.
If you consent, I am content
38. To his Sweetheart, that had objected against him
for want of means.
Come, my Love, if love you grant,
What is it that love can want ?
In thee, I have sufficient store.
Grant me thy love, I wish no more !
360 CUPID'S POSIES, FOR
39. A Posy sent from a Maid to a young Man, with a
very fair wrought Purse.
My heart's Purse, you are my wealth !
And I will keep you to myself!
40. The Posy of a Ring.
True love well placed is ne'er disgraced.
41. I am your friend unto the end.
42. Yours I am ; be mine again !
43. Love itself discloses by Gifts with Posies.
44. A Posy sent with a pair of Gloves.
What should I write ? Some words do move
Suspicion unto those that love :
Then, without any further art,
In one word, you have my heart !
45. Her Reply.
Lest for a heart you should complain ;
With mine I send yours back again !
For Love to me this power doth give,
That my heart in your heart doth live.
46. A young Man's Posy wrought in a Handkercher.
A maiden virtuous chaste and fair
Is a jewel past compare :
And such are you, in whom I find
Virtue is with Beauty joined.
47. A Maiden *s Posy sent with a willow coloured Point
to a young Man that had forsaken her.
Your love was like a spark which in the ashes lies,
That shineth for a time, but afterwards it dies :
Since therefore you did faithless prove ;
I do here renounce your love !
16774.] BRACELETS, HANDKERCHERS, AND RINGS. 361
48. Posies for Rings.
Be true to me, as I to thee.
I love none but thee alone.
I do rejoice in thee my choice.
One love, one troth, between us both.
Constant true love comes from above.
You are my friend unto the end.
49. To his Sweetheart, to whom he sent a Purse with
these verses in it.
Sweet-heart, my love to you I commend ;
And therewithal this purse to you T send :
Which is not filled with silver or with gold ;
Only my heart it doth contain and hold.
50. To a Maid these lines were sent, with a Scarf.
This scarf will keep off the rude wind
Which to your lips the way would find.
I would have none know the bliss
But myself, at your sweet kiss :
Which I would have none else to taste,
Lest your stock of kisses waste.
51. On a Knife.
If you love me as I love you,
Nothing can cut our love in two.
52. To a Gentlewoman who appointed one to buy her a
Mask ; which he bought, and sent it
with this Posy.
It is a pity you should wear a mask !
This is the reason if you ask,
Because it hides your Face so fair
Where roses mixed with lilies are :
362 CUPID'S POSIES, FOR [I6-
674.
It clouds your beauty so that we
Your cherry Lips can seldom see :
And from your Face keeps off our eyes ;
Which is indeed Love's Paradise.
53. Verses sent with a pair of Bracelets.
These bracelets like a circle shall
Environ round your arm.
Happy are they, whate'er befall,
That shall be kept warm.
And may they, like two Circles prove,
To charm your heart for to love me !
Let CUPID the Magician be,
To charm your heart for to love me !
54. Posies for Rings.
I will remain always the same.
You and I will Lovers die.
My vow is past, while life doth last.
Lovers' knot once tied, who can divide ?
Verbum sat amanti.
Amo te, si amas me.
I love thee, if thou love me.
55. To a fair Maid, sent with a Posy of Flowers.
Beauty is like a flower, sweet Maid !
Which quickly doth decay and fade :
Then wisely now make use of time,
Since you are now even in your prime.
56. Two lines embroidered on the top of a Pair
of Gloves.
I wish that we two were a pair
As these happy Gloves here are.
I6774] BRACELETS, HANDKERCHERS, AND RINGS. 363
57. NICK, a farmer's son, sendeth to JOAN HOBSON a yard
of blue Ribbon with these lines.
I send you here of ribbon a whole yard :
And money goeth with me very hard ;
For else this yard, two yards should be,
Since I do hold nothing too dear for thee.
And part therefore my love, if that thou wilt,
In this same ribbon ; which is made of silk.
58. A Posy wrought on a Handkercher in silk Letters.
Do not too lightly of me think,
Who write in Letters 'stead of ink.
To send this token I made shift ;
Esteem the giver, and not the gift !
59. A Posy on a Thimble.
He that sent me, loveth thee.
60. A Cabinet being sent to a Gentlewoman, these verses
were put in one of the drawers.
This little Cabinet will conceal
All things which you would not reveal ;
Your letters and your other things,
As your jewels and your rings.
Let me know then in what part,
Or box, you will lay up my heart !
Which with it I do send ; and pray
That in your heart you would it lay.
Let me such favour from you get :
Make your heart, my heart's Cabinet.
61. To a Maid, a young Man sendeth a silk Girdle.
This girdle haply shall be placed
To compass round your neat small waist.
I were happy if, in this place,
I might thy slender waist embrace.
364 CUPID'S POSIES, FOR
62. A Posy of four lines, written in red letters, the
four sides of a Handkercher.
Things of most constancy still are
Resembled to solid Square ;
So my triangular heart shall be
A four square figure of constancy.
63. Posies for Rings.
Be thou mine, as I am thine.
In weal and woe, my love I'll show.
I will be true always to you.
There is no joy
Like love without annoy.
Love crossed is best,
And prospers best.
Joy doth abound, where love is found.
My vow that's past, till death shall last
I love none but you alone.
To thee my heart I give, whilst I here do live.
Love joineth hands in wedlock's bands.
64. A Posy engraven about a Jewel, sent to a
Gentlewoman.
There is no jewel I can see
Like love that's set in constancy.
65. A Posy to an unkind disdainful J\Taid.
Each frown of yours is like a dart
That woundeth me unto the heart
?
i674.
l6'74J BRACELETS, HANDKERCHERS, AND RINGS. 365
What conquest were it, if that I
By your cruel frown should die ;
Since love my only trespass is ?
And shall I die, alas, for this ?
66. Her Reply.
If alas, for love you chance to die ;
Tis your own folly kills your heart ; not I.
67. A Posy engraven on a gold Ring.
By this ring of gold,
Take me to have and hold !
68. Another.
What joy in life to a good Wife ?
69. A Posy embroidered on a Scarf.
Fairest, wear this scarf that I do send,
That may your beauty from the wind defend *
For I do know the winds, if like to me,
To kiss your lips and cheeks desirous be.
70. On the choice of a Wife.
If thou intend'st to choose a Wife,
With whom to lead a happy life ;
Look not for Beauty, since there are
Few that can be chaste and fair.
But if thou do her Virtues find,
Which are the beauty of the mind,
Woo her then to gain consent !
For virtuous love can ne'er repent.
366
CUPID'S Conclusion.
UPID'S Posies now at last are done.
For if you read them all, you will like some.
For these new Posies are both sweet and
brief,
And will disclose the sighing Lover's grief.
For CUPID, having too much idle leisure,
Composed these Posies for his pleasure.
Fair Maids, my Posies now are done ;
Which for your sakes I first begun.
And young Men here may always choose
Such Posies as they mean to use.
I CUPID writ them on a day,
When VENUS gave me leave to play ;
And if you like them, for my pain :
Then CUPID means to write again.
FINIS.
STRANGE AND
WONDERFUL THINGS
happened to RICHARD HASLETON,
born at Braintree in Essex,
in his Ten years Travels in many
foreign countries.
PENNED AS HE DELIVERED
it from his own mouth.
LONDON,
Printed by A. I. [ABEL JEFFES] for WILLIAM BARLEY,
and are to be sold at his shop in Gratious
\GracechurcJi\ street, near Leaden Hall.
1595-
36$
[The following Text has been printed from the only extant copy
of the original edition, by the kind permission of WAKEFIELD
CHRISTIE-MILLER, Esq. of Britwell Court, Bucks.]
369
To the Worshipful Master RICHARD STAPAR, one of
the Worshipful Company of Merchants Adventurers
of this honourable city of London, trading to Turkey
and the Eastern Kingdoms.
Your Worship's faithful well-wilier W[lLLlAM] BARLEY
wisheth all fortunate and happy success in all your
enterprises, with increase of worldly worship ;
and, after death, the joys unspeakable.
JORSHIPFUL SIR. The many reports of your rare
virtues generally spoken of all honest travellers
who hath tasted the benefit of your bounty : not
only in our home born country where you
have your residence ; but in those far countries where
your honest Factors trade. By whose worshipful and
express command given [to] them, and the good they daily
do for all men which seek them ; your Worship is accounted
and called the Pattern of Bounty : especially of such as are,
in their travail \Jiere meaning labours as well as journeys]
distressed with want ; which with money are relieved, as
well as [with] other great cost [that] their \the Factors}
favour or friendship can procure. So that not only the poor
and needy are pleasured thereby ; but those that swim in
most abundance. All proceeding of your most kind and
courteous disposition.
ENG. GAR. VIII. 24
370 EPISTLE TO MASTER RICHARD STAPERS. [w'BT'g5:
The remembrance of which [having] moved a longing
desire in me, in some sort, to explain your worthiness and
fame, by your bounty gained : it had never such opportunity
until this time when, perusing my store of Papers and
Writings of sundry men's labours, I chanced on this
pamphlet ; which importeth the troublesome travails of our
near neighbour, born at Braintree in Essex, named RICHARD
HASLETON. Whose miseries as they were many (being in
the hands both of Christian and heathen enemies, for GOD
and our country's cause ; and his escapes from death so
often, and so wonderful) ; with the constant enduring of the
same : his preservation ; and safe return to England, where
his longing desire so often wished him.
All which considered, with your Worship's love to all
travellers, emboldened me the rather under your Worship's
patronage to publish the same ; especial zeal procuring me
thereunto. And partly in regard of your many favours to the
said HASLETON in his miseries extended ; [and partly] that
your Worship's good ensample may lighten others to such
good actions.
Hoping your Worship will accept of it no less friendly
than I offer it willingly : which if you do, then is my desire
satisfied, and myself rest bounden to your Worship's worthi
ness. Ever beseeching the Giver of all good to increase the
number of such worthy-minded subjects ; by whom our
Prince and country are, in foreign parts, so much honoured.
Your Worship's
To command in what I may,
WILLIAM BARLEY.
The miserable Captivity of RICHARD
HASLETON^ born at Braintree
in Essex.
N the year 1582, departing the English
coast toward[s] the end of May, in a ship
of London called the Mary Marten (one
of the owners [of which] was a citizen of
London named Master EASTWOODE ; the
other of them, named Master ESTRIDGE,
dwelling at Limehouse), being laden and
bound for Petrach \Patras\ a town of
mart, being within the dominion of the Turk : where we
safely arrived and made our mart.
And within eight and twenty days were laden homeward ;
and presently we weighed anchor, and set sail. And coming
out of the Gulf of Lepanto, [we] grounded upon a rock, lying
on the larboard side ; being in very great danger, [and] in
doubt to lose both ship and goods : yet it pleased GOD that
we recovered.
Then, about the midst of the month of July [1582],
we came right before Cape de Gatte \Cabo de Gata, near
Almeria, in Spai?i\ when, having a very small wind, we
descried two galleys : whereupon the Master commanded
the Gunner to put forth the ordnance, and to heave the skiff
overboard.
Then did the Gunner demand of the Master to make a
a shot : which he granted. Then did he bestow eight and
twenty shot, but to no purpose : for the enemy lay very far
out.
Now when we saw our shot and powder spent so much in
waste, some of our company cried to our Master to shew the
Turks' Letters : but he would not ; but commanded the
Gunner still to shoot.
For now the gallies were within shot, and did shoot at us,
372 HASLETON FIVE YEARS A GALLEY SLAVE. [R> Haj"J£
both with great shot and muskets. And presently both our
Gunners were slain, both with one shot ; and some others
maimed, whereby we were in great doubt : for the gallies
lying on both sides of us, one of them had shot us under
water, whereby our ship was foundered before we perceived.
Then we perceiving the ship to sink from us ; such as.
were wariest leapt into the skiff, as many as it was able to
bear : the rest leaping overboard, such as could swim saved
themselves, going aboard the gallies ; the others were
drowned.
Now I being the last man upon the hatches, because I was
at the stern, and being sore hurt with a musket shot ; the
Turks [having] made haste to board our ship, hoping to save
some of our goods : two of them came aboard. The first
came to me, and took me by the bosom. I drew out my
knife very speedily, and thrust him into the body ; and so
slew him. The other was gone down into the ship, where I
left him ; for even then was the ship sinking from me.
Wherefore I betook myself to swimming ; and turning me
about to see the ship, I could see nothing thereof but only
the flag. Then did I swim to the gallies ; and laying hold
upon an oar, got into the galley.
When I was aboard, I was stripped of my clothes. Then
presently was I commanded to the poop, to talk with the
Captain : who inquired of me, Whether I was a Merchant
[i.e., the Supercargo of the ship] ? Which because I would
not confess, he gave me 15 strokes with a cudgel, and then
put me in the galley's hold : where I was six days, taking
very little sustenance ; lying in extreme pains, by reason of
my hurts which I had received in the fight ; and with
anguish, for my hard hap.
About three months after [? October 1582], the gallies
returned to Argire [Algiers] ; where immediately after my
landing I was sold for 66 doubles [the Double Pistoles or
Doubloons ; equal according to page 392 to £4, 14^. then ; or
say £20 now"].
Then did I fall into extreme sickness for ten days' space ;
notwithstanding [which] I was sent to sea by my Master to
whom I was sold, to labour in the gallies at an oar's end :
where I remained three months [ ? November 1582 to January
3i.Hasleton.-J HASLETON WRECKED ON FORMENTERA. 373
1583], being very feeble and weak, by reason my sickness
continued the most part of that time ; yet was I constrained
either to labour, or else to lose my head. I had no other
choice.
Then the gallies returning home to Argire [Algiers], after
my coming on shore I was in a marvellous weakness ; what
with continual labour, with beating, and with sickness :
which endured three months [_t February to April 1583],
being in a most miserable estate without all succour seeing
no man to pity my misery ; having no nourishment but only
bread and water and [of] that but small quantity, no apparel
on me but a thin shirt and a pair of linen breeches, and
lodged in a stable on the cold ground. Thus I, being almost
in despair ever to recover, yielded myself to the will of
Almighty GOD ; whom it pleased, in the end, to give me a
little strength.
And after, for the space of two [or rather four years] or
more [? April 1583 to April 1587], I was divers times at my
labour at the oar's end, after my accustomed manner ; till
(such time our fleet of gallies meeting with the gallies of
Genoa near the Christian shore ; and they following us in
chase) it chanced, [about April 1587] by reason of tempest,
that our galley was cast away near the west side of the island
[of] Formentera.
There were in it, of Christians and Turks, to the number
of 250 ; which were all drowned except 15 : of which myself,
with two others, with great difficulty brake our chains ; and
taking hold of an oar, we escaped to the shore, not without
great danger of drowning.
We being now gotten to land, and accompanied both with
Turks and Christians ; we took our rest under bushes and
thickets. The Turks were very unwilling to depart with
{separate from'] us ; thinking to find some other galley of the
company to take us aboard, and carry us back to Argire
{Algiers].
But we, hoping now to get our liberties, conveyed ourselves
as secretly as we could into the woods ; and went unto a
rock, and with sharp stones we did beat off our irons : and
fled immediately to the Christians, and yielded ourselves.
374 HASLETON is BROUGHT TO PALMA. [^^"ftSJ.
But one of them which escaped with me, who was born in
Sclavony [ ? Slavom'a, or ? Cephalonia\, told them, That I was
an English Lutheran.
Then was I presently carried aboard a galley of Genoa,
and put in chains.
And, upon the morrow, was I sent over into the Isle of
Iviza, being within the jurisdiction of Majorca : which are all
in the dominion of Spain.
There was I imprisoned in the High Tower of the Town
Castle \pf the town of Ivizd\, with a pair of bolts upon my
heels, and a clasp of iron about my neck, there hanging a
chain at the clasp : where I remained nine days, fed with a
little bread and water.
Now because I had in no respect offended them ; I
demanded, Wherefore they molested me ? saying, It was
contrary to [the] law and the profession of Christians.
Then did they ask me, If I had spoken anything against
the King, and against the Church of Rome ?
I answered, " Nothing ! "
Then they told me, I should be sent to Majorca, to answer
before the Inquisition.
Then the Justice, or Chief Officer, of Iviza brought me
back to Genoa ; requesting to have me chained in a galley :
which the Captain did, asking the Justice, Who should be my
surety for running away ?
He demanded, If there were not a spare chain ?
He said, " Yes." Then he commanded a chain to be brought
forth ; and chained me at the sixth oar before : where I
rowed until we came to the Port of Spine [later called
Portpin ; now the Bay of Palma] in Majorca, guarding me
with 14 gal lies.
Then were the Officers of the Inquisition sent for by the
Captain, which came the second day after our coming there
\i.e., to Palmd\ : and at their coming, they offered me the
Pax, which I refused to touch.
Whereupon they reviled me, and called me " Lutheran ! "
[And] taking me presently out of the galley, carried me
R'Han593-] HASLETON TRIED IN THE INQUISITON. 375
on shore in Majorca : and finding the Inquisitor walking in
the market place, [they] presented me to him, saying, " Here
is the prisoner ! "
He immediately commanded me to prison ; whither they
carried me, and put a pair of shackles on my heels. Where I
remained two days.
Then was I brought forth into a church, where the
Inquisitor sat usually in judgement. Who being ready set,
commanded me to kneel down and to do homage to certain
images which were before me.
I told him, " I would not do that which I knew to be
contrary to the commandments of Almighty God ; neither
had I been brought up in the Roman law, neither would I
submit myself to it."
He asked me, Why I would not ?
I answered, " That whereas in England, where I was born
and brought up, the Gospel was truly preached ; and main
tained by a most gracious Princess : therefore I would not
now commit idolatry, which is utterly condemned by the
Word of God."
Then he charged me to utter the truth, otherwise I should
abide the smart.
Then was a stool set, and he commanded me to sit down
before him ; and offered me the cross, bidding me reverently
to lay my hand upon it, and urged me instantly to do it :
which moved me so much, that I did spit in the Inquisitor's
face ; for which the Scribe gave me a good buffet on the face.
So, for that time, we had no more reasoning. For the
Inquisitor did ring a little bell to call the Keeper ; and [he]
carried me to ward again.
And the third day, I was brought forth again to the place
aforesaid.
Then the Inquisitor asked me, What I had seen in the
churches of England ?
I answered, That I had seen nothing in the Church of
England but the Word of God truly preached.
Then he demanded, How I had received the Sacraments ?
I replied, That I had received them according to the
institution of CHRIST : that is, I received the bread in
376 HASLETON THREATENED WITH DEATH. [R'Haff593;
remembrance that CHRIST in the flesh died upon the cross
for the redemption of man.
" How," said he, " hast thou received the wine ? "
Whereto I replied and said, That I received the wine in
remembrance that CHRIST shed his blood to wash away our
sins.
He said, It was in their manner?
I said, " No."
Then he charged me to speak the truth, or I should die
for it.
I told him, " 1 did speak the truth ; and would speak the
truth : for," said I, " it is better for me to die guiltless than
guilty."
Then did he, with great vehemency, charge me again to
speak the truth ; and sware by the Catholic Church of Rome,
that if I did not, I should die in fire.
Then I said, " If I died in the faith which I had confessed,
I should die guiltless : " and told him he had made a vain
oath. And so I willed him to use no circumstance to
dissuade me from the truth : " for you cannot prevail.
Though I be now in your hands, where you have power over
my body ; yet have you no power over my soul." I told him,
he made a long matter far from the truth.
For which, he said I should die.
Then he bade me say what I could to save myself.
Where I replied, as followeth : Touching the manner of
the receiving of Sacraments, where he said " it was like to
theirs " : " you," said I, " when you receive the bread, say it
is the very body of CHRIST; and likewise you affirm the
wine to be his very blood." Which I denied ; saying it was
impossible for a mortal man to eat the material body of
CHRIST, or to drink his blood.
Then he said, I had blasphemed the Catholic Church.
I answered, That I had said nothing against the true
Catholic Church ; but altogether against the false Church.
He asked, How I could prove it ? saying if I could not
prove it, I should die a most cruel death.
Note, by the way, that when any man is in durance for
religion ; he is called to answer before no open assembly :
but only in the presence of the Inquisitor, the Secretary, and
'*' Ha? 159";] HASLETON SHALL TELL ANOTHER TALE ! 377
the Solicitor whom they term the Broker. The cause is, as
I take it, because they doubt [fear] that very many of their
own people would confess the Gospel, if they did but see and
understand their absurd dealing.
Again, to the matter. Because it was so secret, they
urged me to speak the more.
Then he inquired, Whether I had ever been confessed ?
I said, " Yes."
He demanded, " To whom ? "
I said, "To GOD."
He asked me, If I had ever confessed to any Friar?
I said, " No, for I do utterly defy them. For how can he
forgive me my sins, which is himself a sinner ; as all other
men are."
" Yes," said he, " he which confesseth himself to a Friar,
who is a Father, may have remission of his sins by his
mediation."
" Which," I said, " I would never believe."
Wherefore seeing they could seduce me, by no means,
to yield to their abominable idolatry ; the Secretary cried,
" Away with him ! " The Inquisitor and he frowned very
angerly on me for the answers which I had given : and said,
They would make me tell another tale.
So, at the ringing of a little bell, the Keeper came and
carried me to ward again.
At my first Examination, when the Keeper should lead
me away ; the Inquisitor did bless me with the cross : but
never after.
Two days after was I brought again, and set upon a stool
before the Inquisitor.
He bade me ask misericordium.
I told him, " I would crave mercy of JESUS CHRIST who
died for my sins. Other misericordium would I crave
none ! "
Then he commanded me to kneel before the altar.
I said, " I would : but not to pray to any image. For
your altar is adorned with many painted images which were
fashioned by the hands of sinful men : which have mouths,
and speak not ; ears, and hear not ; noses, and smell not ;
378 CHRISTIANS MORE CRUEL THAN TURKS. [R*B!ft5£
hands, and handle not ; feet have they, and walk not —
which GOD doth not allow at his altar, for he hath utterly-
condemned them by his Word."
Then he said, I had been wrong[ly] taught. " For," said
he, " whosoever shall see these figures in earth may the
better remember him in heaven whose likeness it doth
represent, who would be a Mediator to GOD for us."
But I replied, That all images were an abomination to-
the Lord : for he hath condemned them in express words
by his own mouth, saying, " Thou shalt not make thyself any
graven image, &c."
" Yes," said he, " but we have need of a Mediator to make
intercession for us : for we are unworthy to pray to GOD
ourselves, because we are vile sinners."
I said, "There was no Mediator but JESUS CHRIST."
Where, after many absurd reasons and vain persuasions,,
he took a pause.
Then I asked him, Why he kept me so long in prison,,
which never committed offence to them : knowing very well
that I had been captive in Argire [Algiers] near[ly] five
years space [July 1582 to April 1587] : saying, " That when
GOD, by his merciful providence, had, through many great
dangers, set me in a Christian country, and delivered me
from the cruelty of the Turks : when I thought to find such
favour as one Christian oweth to another, I found them now
more cruel than the Turks, not knowing any cause Why."
" The cause," said he, " is because the King hath wars
with the Queen of England."
For at that instant [April 1587], there was their Army
[Armadd] prepared ready to go for England. Whereupon
they would, divers times, give me reproachful words ; saying,
That I should hear shortly of their arrival in England. With
innumerable vain brags, which I omit for brevity.
Then did I demand, " If there were not peace between the
King and the Queen's Majesty ; whether they would keep
me still ? "
" Yea," said he, " unless thou wilt submit thyself to the
faith of the Romish Church." So he commanded me away.
I asked, Wherefore he sent for me ; and to send me away,,
not alleging any matter against me ?
K.Hasleton.J ^ YEAR AT THE BOTTOM OF A DRY WELL. 3/9
He said, I should have no other matter alleged but that
which I had spoken with mine own mouth.
Then I demanded, " Why they would have the Romish
Church to have the supremacy ? "
Whereto he would make no answer.
Then I asked, " If they took me to be a Christian ? "
" Yes," said he, " in some respect[s] ; but you are out of
the faith of the true Church."
Then the Keeper took me to prison again.
And after, for the space of three weeks, I was brought
forth to answer three several times every week. At which
times they did sometimes threaten me with death, some
while with punishment ; and many times they attempted to
seduce me with fair words and promises of great preferment :
but when they saw nothing would draw me from the Truth,
they called me " shameless Lutheran ! " saying many times,
" See, he is of the very blood of LUTHER ! He hath his
very countenance ! " with many other frivolous speeches.
After all this, he commanded to put me in the dungeon
within the Castle [i.e. of Palma\ five fathoms \ysfeef\ under
ground ; giving me, once a day, a little bread and water.
There remained I one whole year \April 1587 to April
1588], lying on the bare ground, seeing neither sun nor
moon ; no, not hearing man woman nor child speak, but
only the Keeper which brought my small victual.
It happened about the year's end, upon the Feast of
PHILLIP and JACOB [JAMES], being the first day of May
[1588], that a pretty boy, being the Keeper's son, came to
give me my ordinary food ; which he used sometimes to do.
Now, when he opened the [trap] door, and had let down
the basket ; I asked, " Who was there ? "
He answered by his name, saying, " Here is MATTHEW ! "
I asked him, " Where his father was ? "
" He is gone to Mass," said he. So he let down the trap
door, and went his way ; leaving the rope with the basket
still.
380 HASLETON CANNOT GET OUT OF PALMA. [R- Ha'yeItSg"'.
And forasmuch as I lay without all comfort, reposing
myself only unto GOD'S Providence ; yet unwilling to lose
any opportunity that lay in me, if GOD were pleased,
whereby I might be delivered. So soon as I heard the boy
was gone : I jumped up and took hold of the rope, and
wound myself up to the [trap] door. Setting my foot
against the wall, with my shoulders did I lift the trap door.
Now when I was aloft, and saw no man ; for they were
gone to see some ceremonies of their idolatrous exercises in
the city, I knew [of] no way to escape away ; being now in
the midst of the way : wherefore it was impossible to convey
myself [away] so secretly, but I should be espied.
Wherefore, for a present shift, I went secretly into a void
[an empty] room of the Castle [i.e. of P alma] where lay great
store of lime and earth : where I tied an old cloth, which I
had, about my head and face to keep the dust out of my
eyes and ears ; and so did I creep into the lime, and covered
myself so well as I could, lying there till towards midnight.
And then hearing no man stirring, I got up, and sought
some way to get forth : but could find none. Then, being
greatly perplexed, I bent myself to the good pleasure of
Almighty GOD ; making my humble prayers that he would,
of his mercy, vouchsafe to deliver me out of this miserable
thraldom.
And, searching to and fro, in the end I came where three
great horses stood, tied by the head and feet. Then did I
unloose the halters from their heads, and the ropes from
their legs ; and went to the Castle wall. When I had tied
them end to end, I made it [the rope~] fast to the body of a
vine which grew upon the wall : and by it did I strike
myself over the wall into the town ditch : where I was
constrained to swim about forty paces, before I could get
forth of the ditch.
Then walked I to and fro in the city [Palma] two hourSj
seeing no man : neither could I devise any way forth.
Wherefore I returned back again to the town ditch, to see
if I could find any way to bring me without the town walls :
and following the ditch, at the last I perceived, by the noise
of the water, that there was a Water Gate through the wall ;
where I searched and found that the issue of the water was
under the wall.
R'Ha?'i593.] ^E DIVES UNDER THE WATER GATE. 381
Then did I very venturously enter the water, and diving
under water got into the Water Gate : and suddenly the
force of the water did drive me through with such violence,
that it cast me headlong against another wall on the outside ;
which with the blow did much amaze me.
Yet, by the help of GOD, I recovered, swimming down
the ditch till I came where was a trough or pipe ; which I
took to be laid over the ditch, to convey some fresh water
spring into the city.
There did I climb up a post which bare the same, and got
upon the top of the pipe : where some of the Watch, being
near the wall, perceived me ; but could not any way come
near to me.
Then cried they, in their tongue, " Who is there ? " three
or four times ; but I made no answer, but crept as fast as I
could to get off the pipe to land : where, before I could get
down, they shot some of their muskets after me ; but, .
thanked be GOD, none of the shot did hit me.
Thus, with great difficulty, I escaped out of the city ; and
went about six miles from thence before the day brake.
Then I went into a thick wood. For I perceived there
were very many sent forth, with hue and cry, both footmen
and horsemen, to apprehend me. Therefore I lay still the
day and night following.
And after, for seven days' space [yd-gth May 1588], I
wandered through desert ways, among woods and bushes.
Many times, as 1 came near the Port ways [i.e. the roads to
the seaport Palma\ I heard the pursuers inquiring after me ;
demanding of divers, Whether they had seen me pass ?
Some were very earnest to take me ; others wishing that I
might escape : for very many times I was so near them that
I heard every word they spake.
Thus I imagined, by all possible means, to avoid [escape
front] the hands of these unmerciful tyrants ; being in great
extremity with hunger and cold. For since the time I came
out of the prison, which was at the least eight days, I had
none other sustenance but berries, which I gathered from
the bushes ; and the roots of palm [trees] and other like
roots, which I digged out of the earth : and no other apparel
but an old linen cloth about my body, and a red cap on my
382 HASLETON'S TEN DAYS IN THE WOODS. [R'H*?^j;
head ; without either hose, shoes, or other furniture. So
that, by reason the way was very hard, I was forced to cut
my cap in two ; and [to] lap it about my feet, to defend
them from the sharp stones and gravel.
Thus travelling for the most part by night, I chanced to
come where there was a house standing alone ; and near the
house there stood a cart wherein lay certain horse collars.
Where searching among them, I found the collars lined
with sheepskins : . which skins I rent from the collars, and
apparelled myself with them in this manner :
I put one piece before me like a breastplate, and another
on my shoulders and back ; with the woolly side towards
my body : tying them together over my shoulders and under
my arms with Palmite, which is a weed like to that whereof
our hand baskets are made ; which is well known to such as
have travelled [in] those parts. And with another piece 1
made me a cap.
And in these seemly ornaments I passed forth, till about
three days after [? I2th May 1588], very early in a morning,
most unhappily 1 crossed an highway, where a countryman,
travelling with a mule laden with rundlets of wine, espied
me, and demanded of me, Whither I was bound ?
I said, I was going to Coothea \Alcudia, 31 miles from
Palmd\, which is a town lying on the shore side.
But he, suspecting me to be the man which was pursued,
bade me stay.
But I went onward.
He ran after me, and threw stones at me : but I (not
being able to overrun him, being very feeble) turned back ;
and, with a pole which I carried, began to defend myself,
striking at him three or four times. At the last I thrust
at him, and hit him on the breast, and overthrew him :
whereupon he made a horrible cry.
And immediately there came to the number of fifteen
more : some having swords ; some, harquebuses ; and others,
crossbows. When I was thus beset, knowing no way to
escape, I yielded myself.
Then they bound me hands and feet, laid me on a
mule, and carried me back again to [Pa/ma] the city of
Majorca ; delivering me to the Inquisitor : who, when he had
R- Ha HASLETON IN THE PLACE OF TORMENT. 8
sent me to prison, commanded a pair of bolts to be put
on my legs, and an iron clasp about my neck, with a
chain of five fathoms [30 feet] long hanging thereat ; which
was done accordingly.
And on the morrow [? \$th May 1588], I was brought
forth to the accustomed place, and in the same manner:
where the Inquisitor sitting, asked first, Why I had broken
prison, and run away ?
I said, " To save my life."
" Yea," said he, " but now thou hast offended the law
more than before ; and therefore shall the law be now
executed upon thee."
Then I was carried away again. And immediately there
was called an assembly of citizens, and such as were seen
in the Law, to counsel, and to take advice, What punish
ment they might inflict upon me ?
Which being deliberated, 1 was brought forth again ;
and carried to the Place of Torment : which was in a
-cell or vault underground.
There were present but four persons, that is to say,
The Inquisitor,
The Solicitor, or Broker, who is to see the law executed.
A Dutch woman that dwelt in the city ; who was
commanded thither to tell them what I spake ; because
I spake many times in the Dutch tongue.
And lastly, the Tormentor.
The rack now standing ready before them ; with seven
flaxen ropes lying thereon, new[ly] bought from the market.
Then the Inquisitor charged me, as at all other times
he used to do, That I should speak what I had to say,
and to speak the truth ; otherwise I should be even now
tormented to death.
I, seeing myself in the hands of such cruel tyrants as
always thirst after the blood of the innocent ; even as CAIN
(who being wroth with his brother ABEL, and carrying
a heavy countenance) could be no way eased but with his
brother's blood: so I, past hope of life, turned my back towards
them, and seeing my torments present before me, I fell
down on my knees, and besought the Lord to forgive my
.sins, and to strengthen my faith, and to grant me patience
to endure to the end.
384 SAVAGE CRUELTY OF THE INQUISITION, p'"3?1^";
Then they took me into a void room, and stripped me
out of my ornaments of sheepskins which I repeated [spoke
0f] before ; and put a pair of strong canvas breeches upon me.
Then bringing me to the rack again, he commanded
me to lie down. The bars of the rack under me were as
sharp as the back of a knife.
Now I, willingly yielding myself, lay down. Then the
Tormentor bound my hands over my breast crosswise ;
and my legs clasped up together, were fast tied the one
foot to the other knee. Then he fastened to either arm
a cord, about the brawn of the arm ; and likewise to either
thigh another ; which were all made fast again under the
rack to the bars : and with another cord he bound down
my head ; and [he] put a hollow cane into my mouth.
Then he put four cudgels into the ropes which were fastened
to my arms and thighs.
Now the woman which was present, being interpreter,
began to persuade me to yield, and confess the faith of
the Church of Rome.
I answered, " If it were the will of GOD that I should
end my life under their cruel hands, I must be content :
but, if it please him, he is able to deliver me, if there were
ten thousands against me."
Then the Tormentor, as he was commanded, began to
wrest the ropes ; which he did by little and little, to augment
my pains, and to have them endure the longer : but, in
the end, he drew them with such violence as though he
would have plucked my four quarters in sunder ; and there
stayed a good space.
Yet to declare their tyrannical malice, thinking my
torment not sufficient, he added more : pouring water
through a cane which was in my mouth, by little and little,
which I was constrained either to let down, or to have
my breath stopped until they had tunned in such [a]
quantity as was not tolerable to endure ; which pained
me extremely,
Yet not satisfied, they took and wet a linen cloth, and
laid it over my mouth till I was almost strangled ; when
my body, being thus overcharged with such abundance
of water, after they had thus stopped my breath with the
wet cloth, suddenly with the force of my breath and that
" FAREWELL WIFE, CHILDREN, AND ENGLAND ! " 385
my stomach was so much overcharged, the water gushed
out, and bare away the cloth as if had been the force of
a conduit spout.
When the Inquisitor saw that all this would not make
me yield, he commanded the Tormentor for to wind the
cord on my left arm more strait[ly] ; which put me
to horrible pains. And immediately the rope burst in
sunder.
Then said the Inquisitor, " Yea, is he so strong ? I will
make him yield!": and commanded the Tormentor to
put a new rope.
Then the woman again bade me yield ; saying, It were
better to yield than to die so miserable a death.
But I, beseeching Almighty GOD to ease me of my pains,
and to forgive my sins, answered her, That though they
had power over my body : yet there was no torment should
compel me to yield to their idolatry, whereby I might
bring my soul in danger of hell fire.
Then the Inquisitor asked her, What I said ?
She answered, That I had said I would never submit
myself to the Church of Rome.
Then did he most vehemently charge me to yield and
submit myself to the Romish Church : otherwise he would
pluck off one of my arms.
Whereupon I denying still, the Tormentor, in most
cruel manner, wrested the ropes as if he would have rent
my body in sunder. I (being now in intolerable pains ;
and looking for nothing but present \instant\ death) cried
out, in the extremity of my anguish, " Now, farewell wife
and children ! and farewell England !": and so, not able to
utter one word more, lay even senseless.
The Inquisitor asked the woman again, What I said ?
She laid her hand upon my head, and perceiving that
I was speechless, told him, I was dead.
Wherefore the Tormentor loosed the ropes, unbound
my hands and feet, and carried me into a chamber which
they termed St. Walter's Chamber. Where I came to
myself, and received some sense and reason ; but could have
no feeling of any limb or joint. Thus I lay n a most
lamentable and pitiful manner for five days[? i^th-iStk May
1588], having a continual issue of blood and water forth of
ENG. GAR. VIII. 25
386 HASLETON WHIPPED ALL THROUGH PALMA. [R'Ha?1?S.'
my mouth all that space, and being so feeble and weak, by
reason of my torments, that I could take no sustenance.
Till the sixth day [? igth May 1588] a little recovering
my strength, they gave me a little quantity of bread and
wine sod[den] together : and presently, the very same day,
they carried me forth into the city, and set me upon an ass's
back, and whipped me throughout every street of \Palmd\
the city of Majorca ; giving me to the number of five
hundred lashes, .which made the blood to run down my
miserable carcase in such abundance that it dropped at the
belly of the ass to the ground. Now there were carried with
me about the city very many harlots and whores and other
malefactors which had offended the law ; but none punished
like me.
After this, they carried me to the chamber \_St. Walters
Chamber'] from whence I came : where I lay without all
worldly comfort
Can any man, which understandeth the absurd blindness
and wilful ignorance of these Spanish tyrants or Romish
monsters, think them to be of the true Church ? which
defend their faith with fire, sword, and hellish torments,
without remorse or pity ; as you may perceive by a manifest
trial here set down to the open view of the World. For
when these hell-hounds had tormented this miserable
creature, as you have heard, with a monstrous and most
unchristian kind of torment : which he endured for the space
of three hours, till [he] was at the very point of death and
ready to yield up the ghost : they (not yet satisfied with
these torments, which he had suffered already) reserved his
life, minding to increase his pains ; which they were nothing
slack to perform so long as he remained in their power.
Now the second night after they had whipped me about
the city as aforesaid [? the night of the 2oth May 1588],
about midnight. I recounting to myself in what misery I
both did and had remained ; I thought to put in practice
once again to get my liberty, craving of the Lord, with
hearty prayer, to assist me with his mighty hand.
R' Ha? S*] HASLETON AGAIN GETS OUT OF PALMA. 387
And immediately searching about, I found an old iron
stub ; with the which I brake a hole through the chamber
wall : and crept through into another chamber ; where I
felt in the dark many pieces of plate, which I little regarded.
After, I found many towels and table napkins.
Then, seeking further, I found a long cane whereon there
hung many puddings and sausages. I plucked down the
cane, but had little mind on the victual. Then I found
•certain knives.
Then I espied some light at a great window in a garret
or loft over me. Wherefore I tied a crooked knife to the
cane, and thrust up a long towel : and with the knife at
the end of the cane, I drew the towel about a bar of
the window, and drew it to me : and with that towel I did
climb up into the window. But then I could not get forth
between the bars, wherefore I digged forth one of the bars ;
and tied my towels and napkins together end to end, and
fastened one end to a bar of the window : and then did
slide down by them till I came within three or four fathoms
[ 1 8 or 24 feet] of the ground : when the towels brake in
sunder, and I fell down into a well which was direct[ly]
under me, where I was almost drowned. Yet it pleased
GOD to deliver me.
And being then in the city, without the Castle walls ;
I, knowing no other way to get out, went again to the
town ditch : where I got through the Water Gate with less
peril than before, by reason there was less water than [there]
was the other time.
Then went I, with all speed into the woods ; lying all
days in [the] woods as close as I could, and travelled by
nights through woods and mountains.
And upon the third night \i.e. after his escape, say the
night of the 2$rd May 1588], about midnight, I happened
into an olive garden, not above half a bow shot from the
sea-side ; in which garden I found a little skiff or boat
lying under a pomgranate tree : and there lay in the boat a
hatchet. All which served happily for my delivery.
Now I, being unable to carry the boat to the water-side,
did cut small truncheons of wood ; and upon them did
slide it down to the water-side. Then I cut an arm [a
^88 ESCAPES IN A BOAT TO BOUGIAH BAY. TR' ^'T^*
»l L • I593-
branc/i] of an olive tree, to make my boat a mast ; and,
having no other shift, made a sail-cloth with my breeches
and a piece of [a] mantle which I had about me. And
for {because} my oars were very mean, yet durst 1 stay to
look for no better, but presently set sail ; and, yielding"
myself to the good pleasure of Almighty GOD, betook
myself to the sea : willing rather to abide what the Lord
would lay on me, than to die among these most cruel tyrants.
And by the providence of GOD, upon the second day
[? 2$th May 1588], in the forenoon, I descried the Coast
of Barbary : for the wind stood north-east [or rather north
west], which served me most happily.
Understand that this cut is, from shore to shore [that is,
from some point in Majorca to the east side of the Bay of
Bougiah\ 1 50 [or rather 70] leagues, which is 450 [or, at most,
say 210] English miles; and at that time [there was] a
very rough sea ; insomuch if it had not been by the great
and wonderful power of GOD, my vessel and I had both
been overwhelmed.
But I fell in with the country of Cabyles [z>., the Little
Kabylia, in tJie present Province of Constantine\ commonly
called the King of Cookooe's land, near a town called Gigeley
[the present Djidjelli\ : where I went on shore, leaving my
boat to swim which way the wind and weather would con
duct it ; thinking it had done me sufficient service.
But see now, when I had escaped through the surges of
the sea from the cruelty of the Spaniard, I was no sooner
landed and entered the mountains but I was espied by the
Moors which inhabit the country ; who pursued very
earnestly to take me ; supposing me to be come from the
Christian shore to rob in their coast.
For, many times, the Spaniards will pass over in some
small vessel, and go on shore ; and if they can catch
any men of the country, they will carry them away
to make galley slaves : wherefore the Moors are very
diligent to pursue them at their landing ; and if it
chance they take any Christian, they use him in like sort.
Wherefore I, being very unwilling to fall into their hands,
was constrained to go into a river, which ran between two
R. Hasleton.-| ^HE CHARITY OF A GOOD OLD MOOR. 389
mountains ; and there to stand in water up to the chin,
where the bushes and trees did grow most thick over me: where
I stood certain hours, until they had left searching for me.
Now when I perceived they were departed, I went out
of the water, being very feeble ; for I ate nothing all that
time but the bark of the trees, which I cut with my hatchet.
I went forth as secretly as I could, minding to pass to
Argire \Algier s\.
I had not gone above three miles, when I espied a Moor,
-a very well favoured old man, who was weeding a field of
wheat.
I spake to him in the tongue of Franke \The Lingua
Franca of the Mediterranean shore], and called him to me.
I, having my hatchet in my hand, cast it from me.
He came unto me ; and, taking me by the hand,
demanded very gently, What I would have?
I, perceiving that he did, even at the first sight, pity
my poor and miserable estate, told him all things that
had happened unto me : how I was an Englishman ; how
I had been captive in Argire ; how I chanced to come to
Genoa ; their sending me to Majorca ; and all the torment
which I had suffered there ; and finally my escape from
thence, with all the rest that followed.
This good aged father, when he had heard of my lament
able discourse, shewing himself rather a Christian The charitable
than a man brought up among the Turkish ™mpie°oid
Mahometists, greatly pitied my misery ; and man-
forthwith led me home to his house, and caused such
victuals as the country yieldeth to be set before me, which
was dried wheat and honey : and baked a cake upon the
fire hearth, and fried it with butter ; which I thought very
good meat, for I had not been at the like banquet in six
years before [1582-1588] ; the good father shewing me what
comfort he could.
There I remained four and twenty hours. In the mean
time the Moors which dwelt in the villages by, r
,.-,.. V The old man
understanding ot my being there, came ; and, still pitiedhim
calling me forth, inquired of me, What I was ? uy in him to
From whence I came? and Whither I would?: deliverhim-
and, with great vehemency, charged their weapons against
3QO HASLETON is AGAIN MADE A PRISONER. [R- Ha?slIe5tg";
my breast ; insomuch that I thought they would verily have
slain me. But mine host, that good old man, came
forth and answered for me ; and so dissuaded them
from doing me any harm : and took me back again into
his house.
This being past, I requested him to help me to a guide
to conduct me to Argire : and he presently provided two,
whereof the one was his son ; to whom I promised to give
four crowns for their pains.
So taking my leave of my good host, we took our way
towards Argire.
When we had not passed above 24 miles on the way, we
chanced to meet a Gentleman of that country who was, as
it were, Purveyor to the King ; and went about the country
to take up corn and grain for the King's provision.
He, meeting us upon the way, asked Whither we were
travelling ?
My guides answered, That we were going to Argire.
He asked, What had we to do there ?
They said to deliver me there.
Then he demanded, What I was ?
They told him, I was an Englishman that came from the
Christian shore, and was bound towards Argire.
Then did this Gentleman take me from them, sending
them back from whence they came ; but compelled me to
go with him to village by, and very earnestly persuaded me
to turn Moor : promising, if I would, he would be a mean[s]
to prefer me greatly ; which I still denied.
Then, upon the next day, he carried me further, to a
town called Tamgote [ ? Tamgout\ and delivered me to a
Nobleman of great authority with the King : which was
Lieutenant-General for the wars. For this King of Cookooe
holdeth continual war with the King of Argire ; although
they be both subject to the Great Turk.
I was no sooner brought before this Nobleman, but he
demanded, Whether I would turn Moor ?
I answered, That I would not.
Wherefore immediately he commanded a pair of shackles
to be put on my heels ; and a clasp of iron about my neck,
with a chain thereat
R'Ha!'is93'] KING OF THE KABYLES EXAMINES HIM. 391
Then was I set on a mule, and conveyed to Cookooe, [also
spelt, in maps later than this narrative, Couco or Cocou. //
was not far from the left bank of the river Sahel, that falls into
the Bay of Bougiah, ? the present Akbou], where the King lay.
When I was come thither, I was presently brought before
the King : who inquired, What I was ? and, From whence I
came ? and What my pretence was ?
I answered, That I was an Englishman ; and that I came
from the Christian shore, intending to pass to Argire.
Then he asked me, What I could do ?
I told him I could do nothing.
Then he demanded, Whether I were a Gunner? Gunners ar
are n
T qaiH "Nn " great estima-
L Said, iMO. ticnwith
Then he persuaded me very instantly to yield to them-
their religion, offering to prefer me.
Wherefore I desired him to give me liberty to depart : " for
my desire is to be in England, with my wife and children."
" Yea," said he, " but how wilt thou come there ?"
For they minded to keep me still : and evermore the King
assayed to seduce me with promises of great preferment,
saying, If I would serve him and turn Moor : I should want
nothing.
But on the contrary, I besought him to give me liberty to
go to Argire ; where I was in hope to be delivered, and sent
home to mine own country.
Now he, seeing he could win me by no gentle means,
commanded me to prison ; saying, That he would either
make me yield and turn Moor: or else I should die in
captivity.
In this while that I remained in prison ; divers of the
King's House came to me, persuading me to yield to the
King's demand : alleging how hardly the King might use
me, being now in his power, unable to escape ; and again
how bountifully the King would deal with me, if I would
submit myself.
Within a little time after, it happened there was great
preparation to receive the King of Abbesse [? the present
tribe of the Beni- Abbas, or Beni-Abbes\ whose country
adjoineth to the King of Cookooe's land : and [they] are in
392 THE QUEEN TRIES TO PERSUADE HIM. [R- "l1^";
league together, and join their armies in one against the
King of Argire.
Now, at his coming, I was fetched forth of prison,
These men are an(^ commanded to charge certain pieces of ord-
Fn°Ai"uieX?ert nance, which were three Sacres and two Minions
of Brass [See Vol. IV., pp. 250-251]; which I
refused not to do, trusting thereby to get some liberty.
Wherefore, at the coming of the King of Abbesse into the
town, I discharged the ordnance as liked them very well :
for they are not very expert in that exercise. For which I
had some more liberty than before.
This King of Abbesse tarrying some certain time there, in
consulting with the King of Cookooe for matters touching
the Wars with Argire ; and understanding of me, sent for
me, being very desirous to talk with me : where, after certain
questions he desired of the other King, that he might buy
me ; which he would not grant.
Then the King of the Cabyles \Kabyles\ or Cookooe per-
Ve man suaded me very seriously to serve him wil[ling]ly,
offers of prefer- and to turn Moor : and offered to give me 700
mTfromti™ Doubles [? the Double Pistoles, or Doubloons~\ by
word of GOD. the yearj which amounteth to the sum of £50
[= £200 now} of English money; and moreover to give me
by the day, 30 Aspers, which are worth twelve pence
English, to find me meat ; and likewise to give me a house,
and land sufficient to sow a hundred bushels of grain yearly,
and two Plow of oxen furnished, to till the same ; also to
furnish me with horse, musket, sword, and other necessaries,
such as they of that country use. And lastly he offered to
give me a wife, which they esteemed the greatest matter ;
for all buy their wives at a great price. Yea, if there were
any in his Court could content me, I should make my
choice : but if there were not ; he would provide one to my
contentment, whatsoever it should cost him.
But when he perceived all he said was in vain, he sent the
Queen and her gentlewomen to talk with me. When she
came, she very courteously entreated me to turn and serve
the King, and to consider well what a large offer the king
had made ; saying, That I was much unlike to come to any
like preferment in my country. And many times she would
K'Ha?1i593'] HASLETON BUILDS" THE KING A HOUSE. 393
shew me her gentlewomen, and ask me, If none of them
could please me ?
But I told her, I had a wife in mine own country, to whom
I had vowed my faith before GOD and the World : " which
vow," I said, " I would never break while we both lived."
Then she said, She could but marvel what she should be
whom I esteemed so much as to refuse such offers of prefer
ment, for her sake ; being now where 1 must remain in
captivity and slavery all the days of my life. But when she
could prevail no way with me ; when she had uttered these
foresaid speeches, and many others which were frivolous to
rehearse, she left me. Yet, by her means, I had more
liberty than before.
After this, I was set to saw boards and planks ; and was
commanded to make a carriage for a piece of ordnance.
Thus they compelled me to labour daily : which I did the
more willingly, because I hoped still to get my liberty
thereby in the end.
Then they willed me to shew the fashion of our edge tools,
after the English [manner] : which when they saw the
fashion ; their smiths wrought them very artificially, and
gave them very good temper. For these things I was had
in more estimation ; insomuch that they took off my irons,
and let me walk abroad with a Keeper.
Then was I commanded by the King to teach the
Carpenters to frame a house after the manner of T
r I was made
English building : and for that purpose there were Master of
sent forth Carpenters and workmen with me to i had small
the woods, to fall timber ; all which were to do skllh
what I appointed, upon the King's commandment. Now I,
being Chief Master of the work, appointed out the trees
which were very special good timber. In small time, we
had finished our frame ; which liked the King very well.
By this means I had more liberty than before ; and was very
well intreated.
Yet I was greatly grieved in mind that I could not procure
any means for my liberty ; although at that time, I wanted
few necessaries. Yet was I daily devising how I might
escape away, for three special causes :
394 HASLETON ESCAPES ; BUT is CAUGHT. [R- w*f%£.
One was for the special care I had of my salvation :
because, as you have heard, there were many tempta
tions laid before me to draw me from a Christian to be
an abominable idolater.
The second cause was for the love and dutiful alle
giance which I owe to my Prince [Sovereign] and
natural country.
The third was the regard of the vow which I vowed
in matrimony ; and the care of my poore wife and"
children.
Which causes moved me so much that whereas, by reason
of my diligence in these foresaid matters, I [was] walking
abroad with my Keeper who, not suspecting me, was not so
attentive as before he had been : so soon as our frame was
finished, I took opportunity ; and, shewing them a clean
pair of heels, took my way over the mountains intending to-
go for Argire \which was in a north-westerly direction^
But presently there was a great store of men, both on
horseback and on foot : who, being more perfect in the way
than I was, quickly overtook me ; and carried me back
again to Cookooe.
I was presently brought before the King ; who asked me
Why I ran away ?
I told him, To have liberty.
Then he called certain of his servants to him ; and
commanded them to lay me down at his feet, which four of
them did : and laying me flat upon the belly, one of them
gave me 75 stripes with a great cudgel, till I was not able to
remove out of the place.
Then the King commanded to carry me to prison again :
whither two of them carried me and put me in irons, and
there left me. Where I remained for the space of two
months.
Then was I brought forth of prison, and sent daily to a
I w fountain or well, about half a league from the
made a Water- town, to fetch water with a couple of asses, for the
use of the King's House.
Now, in this time, many artificers (as Smiths, Joiners, and
R. Hasieton.J p^E FINALLY ESCAPES, DRESSED AS A MOOR. 395
Carpenters, and many others) came to me to understand the
fashion of many English tools (as plane irons, gouges,
chisels and such like) ; for which they shewed me some
favour, and gave me some money.
And when I had gotten a little money, I bestowed it upon
apparel, and caused it to be made like to theirs : which I
carried secretly, when I went to fetch water, and did hide it
in a dry cave under the side of a rock. I bought me likewise
a sword and a lance, such as they use to travel with. I also
provided a file. All which I laid up with my apparel.
It happened that the King of Abbesse came again to
visit the King, and to take counsel about warlike affairs ; as
usually they did.
Wherefore when they heard of his coming, making great
preparation for him ; it fell out so that there wanted water
in the Offices [Kitchens 6r.], where, in an evening, there was
exceeding thunder and rain and lightning ; so that there
was no man would go for water, but everyone [was] calling
for the Englishman.
Then I, which durst say no " Nay ! ", took the vessels and
hung them upon the asses ; and so went, through rain and
wind and thunder and all, till I came to the well : where I
left my asses to wander whither they would, and went to-
my apparel and with my file cut off my irons, and made me
ready in my suit of Moors' clothing, and, with my sword
by my side and my lance on my shoulder, took my way
once again towards Argire.
And that night I went about 20 miles over rocks and
mountains, keeping myself out of beaten ways, casting
[directing] my way by the moon and stars. When the day-
began to be light, I lay me down in a brake of thick bushes ;
and there I slept the most part of the day : and in the
evening I began to travel forth on my way.
Now, on the third night, I was to pass a bridge where
was continual watch and ward, both day and night ; where
I must of necessity pass, by reason the river [? the river Isser\
ran betwixt two mountains : which were so steep that no
man can neither go down to enter [the] water, nor yet being
in can by any possible means get up on the other side ;
which river is a great defence to the country.
396 HE REACHES THE KlNGDOM OF ALGIERS. [R'
Kasleton.
? 1593-
Where I used no delay, but entered the bridge in the
beginning of the night, about nine of the clock, being in
great doubt [fear] of the Watch. But at the first end of
the bridge, I saw no man, until I was happily passed over.
Then there came one after me, and asked, Who goes
there ?
It being somewhat dark, and I in apparel and with my
weapons like a Moor ; [I] answered boldly, That I was a
friend, and told him, I was coming to the Governor to
deliver letters from the King. For near the river's side
there is a village where dwelleth he who hath charge of the
keeping of this passage. Whereby I went onward through
the village.
But before I was far passed, I heard horsemen upon the
bridge ; which asked, Whether any man had passed that
night ?
The watermen told them, There was one gone, even now,
which said, He went to deliver the King's letters to the
Officer.
But I thought [it] no time now to hear any more of their
talk ; but betook me to my heels : and so soon as I was
without the town, I went out of the Port way \the road to
Algiers] into [the] woods ; and kept desert ways that night
and day following.
And the next night, I came within the liberties of the
King of Argire ; where I knew the Cabyles \Kabyles\ could
not fetch me back again.
In this order I escaped their hands, by the mighty power
Many danger- of GOD. For understand, in these desert moun-
Tn tha'td beasts tains there are all manner of wild beasts, in great
country. number ; as lions, bears, wolves of marvellous big
ness, apes, wild swine ; and also "wild horses and asses, with
many other hurtful beasts : yet was I never in danger of any
of them.
In this country of Cabyles, there are divers kinds of very
pure metals, as gold, silver, and lead ; and good iron and
steel : but they, for want of knowledge and skill, make no
use of any metal except iron and steel. Although at such
times I have been present, while the Smiths have tried their
iron, I have seen, among the dross of the iron, very perfect
R'Ha?Ii59"n UNFORTUNATE CHANCE OUTSIDE ALGIERS. 397
gold. Which they, perceiving me to behold, were very in
quisitive to understand, Whether it were gold, or any other
metal of substance ?
But I told them, It was but a kind of dross whereof we
made colours for painting in England.
They carried me out to the mountains, and shewed me-
the rocks where they gathered their iron ; which rocks had
veins of very pure gold. Which I would not reveal to them,
but answered as before : because I doubted [feared] if the
King once knew me to have experience in such mysteries,
he would keep me the more straight[ly] ; whereby I might
have remained in bondage during my life.
Now when I was within the country of Argire, I was out of
dangers from the pursuers ; and then did I walk by day and
kept the common ways.
Where, coming within the view of Argire, upon the way I
met a Turk who knew me at the first sight ; and demanded,
If I had not been captive with such a man ?
I said, " Yes."
He then inquired, Whether I went to the city ?
I said, " Yes."
Then turned he back, and did accompany me to the city.
When I came there, I would have gone to the English
House ; but he led me violently to my old Master [p. 372],
where I rested me a day and night : my Master not being
very earnest, for because, in this time that I was absent
[1587-1588], all the English captives were redeemed and
sent home.
Wherefore I went to the English Consul, hoping to be
presently [instantly] delivered : who gave me very good
words, but did not shew me that favour which he professed.
I could make some discourse of his unkind dealing with
me and others of our countrymen ; which I will leave till [a]
more fit occasion.
For, understand, that while I was with him, there came a
messenger from my old Master, with whom I was before I
went to Genoa \in the previous year, 1587] ; who would have
carried me away by force : but I would not go, requesting
the Consul to take order for my delivery.
398 OVER THREE MORE YEARS A GALLEY SLAVE. [R- Ha?'^°";
But he persuaded me to go with him, saying, that he
would, in time, provide for my liberty.
But by means I would not yield to go to my Master, nor
yet the Consul would not take order for me : I was taken by
the King's Officers, and put in chains in the King's prison,
among other captives.
And at the next setting out of the gallies, I was put to my
old occupation ; where I remained a galley slave for three
years and above after [1588-1592.] In which time, I was
eight voyages at sea : and at such times as the gallies lay in
harbour, I was imprisoned with the rest of the captives, where
our ordinary food was bread and water ; and, at some times,
as once or twice in a week, a small quantity of sodden
Avheat.
To conclude, I passed my time in sickness and extreme
slavery until, by the help of an honest Merchant [ ? Master
RICHARD STAPAR, see page 369 ; or rather STAPERS, see Vol.
I I I., page 169] of this city of London, and having a very fit
opportunity by means of certain [of] our English ships
which were ready to set sail, bound homeward, upon Christmas
Even, being the 24th of December 1 592, I came aboard [at
Algiers'] the Cherubim of London ; which, weighing anchor,
and having a happy gale, arrived in England towards the
end of February [1593] following.
Thus have you heard how it hath pleased the Almighty
GOD, after many and great miseries, to bring me to the
port which I longed greatly to see : beseeching GOD, of
his mercy, to prolong the days of our most gracious and
renowned Queen ; whose fame reacheth far, and whose most
.happy government is in admiration with foreign Princes.
So wishing all to the glory of GOD, and
[the] furtherance of the Gospel,
I end.
FINIS.
399
The Merchant's Daughter of
Bristow [Bristol],
[Ancient Ballads, etc.
in the Library of
HENRY HUTH, 1867.]
THE FIRST PART.
EHOLD the Touchstone of True Love !
MAUDLIN, the Merchant's daughter of
Bristow town,
Whose firm affection nothing could move !
Such favour bears the Lovely Brown.
A gallant Youth was dwelling by.
Which many years had borne this Maiden great goodwill :
She loved him as faithfully :
But all her friends withstood it still.
The young man now, perceiving well
He could not get nor win the favour of her friends ;
The force of sorrows to expell,
To view strange countries he intends.
And now to take his last Farewell
Of his True Love, his fair and constant MAUDLIN ;
With music sweet, that did excell,
He plays under her window fine.
" Farewell," quoth he, " my own True Love !
Farewell, my dear ; and chiefest treasure of my heart !
Through Fortune's spite, that false did prove,
I am in forced from thee to part.
4OO THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER OF BRISTOL. [Ct ^
" Into the land of Italy :
There will I waste and weary out my days in woe.
Seeing my True Love is kept from me,
I hold my life a mortal foe.
" Fair Bristow town, therefore adieu !
For Padua must be my habitation now :
Although my Love doth lodge in thee,
To whom alone my heart I vow."
With trickling tears thus did he sing,
With sighs and sobs descending from his heart full sore.
He saith, when he his hands did wring,
" Farewell, sweet Love, for evermore ! "
Fair MAUDLIN, from a window high,
Beholds her True Love with his music where he stood ;
But not a word she durst reply,
Fearing her parents' angry mood.
In tears she spends the doleful night,
Wishing herself (though naked) with her faithful friend :
She blames her friends, and Fortune's spite ;
That wrought their loves such luckless end.
And in her heart she makes a vow
Clean to forsake her country and her kinsfolk all ;
And for to follow her True Love now,
To bide all chances that might fall.
The night is gone, and the day is come ;
And in the morning very early doth she arise.
She gets her down to the lower room,
Where sundry seamen she espies.
c.i6oo.] THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRUE LOVE. 401
A gallant Master among them all :
The Master of a fair and goodly ship was he ;
Which there stood waiting in the hall,
To speak with her father, if it might be.
She kindly takes him by the hand ;
" Good Sir," she said, " and would you speak with any here ?"
Quoth he, " Fair Maid, therefore I stand."
" Then, gentle Sir, I pray you come near."
Into a pleasant parlour by,
With hand in hand she brings this seaman all alone ;
Sighing to him most piteously,
She thus to him did make her moan :
She falls upon her tender knee,
" Good Sir," she said, " now pity you a Maiden's woe !
And prove a faithful friend to me,
That I to you my grief may show."
" Sith you repose such trust," he said,
" To me that am unknown, and eke a stranger here ;
Be you assured, proper Maid,
Most faithful still I will appear ! "
" I have a brother, Sir," quoth she,
" Whom, as my life, I love and favour tenderly.
In Padua, alas, is he
Full sick, GOD wot ; and like to die.
" And fain I would my brother see ;
But that my father will not yield to -let me go.
Wherefore, good Sir, be good to me,
And unto me this favour show.
ENG GAR. VIII. 26
4O2 THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER OF BRISTOL. [,
" Some shipboy's garments bring to me,
That I disguised may get away from hence unknown :
And unto sea I'll go with thee,
If thus much friendship may be shown."
" Fair Maid," quoth he, " take here my hand !
I will fulfil each thing that now you desire,
And set you safe in that same land ;
And in the place where you require."
Then gives she him a tender kiss ;
And saith, "Your servant, gallant Master, I will be!
And prove your faithful friend, for this.
Sweet Master, then forget not me ! "
This done, as they had both decreed,
Soon after, early, even before the break of day,
He brings her garments then with speed ;
Wherein she doth herself array.
And ere her father did arise,
She meets her Master as he walked in the Hall ;
She did attend on him likewise,
Even till her father did him call.
But ere the Merchant made an end
Of all those matters to the Master he could say ;
His wife came weeping in with speed
Saying, " Our daughter is gone away ! "
The Merchant, much amazed in mind,
41 Yonder vile wretch enticed away my child," quoth he,
" But well I wot, I shall him find
At Padua in Italy."
c.i6oo.] THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRUE LOVE. 403
With that bespake the Master brave,
" Worshipful Merchant, thither goes this pretty Youth !
And anything that you would have,
He will perform it, and write the truth."
" Sweet Youth," quoth he, " if it be so,
Bear me a letter to the English Merchants there ;
And gold on thee I will bestow.
My daughter's welfare I do fear ! "
Her mother takes her by the hand,
" Fair Youth," quoth she, " if there thou dost my daughter see,
Let me thereof soon understand :
And there are twenty crowns for thee ! "
Thus, through the daughter's strange disguise,
The mother knew not when she spake unto her child.
And after her Master straight she hies,
Taking her leave with countenance mild.
Thus to the sea fair MAUDLIN is gone,
With her gentle Master. GOD send them a merry wind !
Where we awhile must leave them alone,
Till you the Second Part do find.
FINIS.
404
The Merchant s Daughter of
Bristow [Bristol],
THE SECOND PART.
ELCOME, sweet MAUDLIN, from the sea !
Where bitter storms and cruel tempests did arise:
The pleasant banks of Italy,
We may behold with joyful eyes."
" Thanks, gentle Master," then quoth she,
" A faithful friend in all my sorrows thou hast been.
If fortune once doth smile on me,
My thankful heart shall well be seen !
" Blest be the land that feeds my Love !
Blest be that place whereas he doth abide !
No travail will I stick to prove,
Whereby my goodwill may be tried.
" Now will I walk with joyful heart
To view the town whereas my darling doth remain ;
And seek him out in every part,
Until I do his sight attain."
•' And I," quoth he, " will not forsake
Sweet M. in all her journeys up and down ;
In wealth and woe thy part I'll take,
And bring thee safe to Padua town."
And, after many weary steps,
In Padua they safe arrived at the last.
For very joy, her heart it leaps :
She thinks not on her perils past.
,.] THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRUE LOVE. 405
But now, alas, behold the luck !
Her own True Love in woeful prison doth she find ;
Which did her heart in pieces pluck,
And grieved her gentle mind.
Condemned he was to die, alas,
Except he would his faith and his religion turn :
But rather than he would go to Mass,
In fiery flames he vowed to burn.
How doth fair MAUDLIN weep and 'wail :
Her joy is changed to weeping, sorrow, grief, and care.
But nothing can her plaints prevail,
For death alone must be his share.
She walks under the prison walls,
Where her True Love doth lie and languish in distress.
Most woefully for food he calls,
When hunger did his heart oppress.
He sighs, and sobs, and makes great moan.
*' Farewell," said he, " sweet England now for ever !
And all my friends that have me known
In Bristow town with wealth and store !
" But most of all, farewell, ' quoth he,
<l My own True Love, sweet M ! whom I left behind :
For never more I shall thee see !
Woe to thy father most unkind !
" How well were I, if thou wast here,
With thy fair hands to close up both these wretched
eyes !
My torments easy would appear :
My soul with joy should scale the skies."
406 THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER OF BRISTOL. [c
When M. heard her Lover's moan ;
Her eyes with tears, her heart with sorrow filled was.
To speak with him no means was known,
Such grievous doom on him did pass.
Then cast she off her lad's attire ;
A Maiden's weed upon her back she seemly set :
To the judge's house she did enquire,
And there she did a service get.
She did her duty there so well,
And eke so prudently herself she did behave ;
With her in love her Master fell.
His servant's favour he doth crave.
" MAUDLIN," quoth he, " my heart's delight 1
To whom my heart in firm affection 's tied,
Breed not my death through thy despite !
A faithful friend I will be tried.
" Grant me thy love, fair Maid !" quoth he,
" And at my hands desire what thou canst devise,
And I will grant it unto thee,
Whereby thy credit may arise."
" O Sir," she said, " how blest am I,
With such a kind and gentle Master for to meet ;
I will not your request deny,
So you will grant what I do seek.
'• I have a brother, Sir," she said,
" For his religion is now condemned to die.
In loathsome prison he is laid,
Oppressed with care and misery.
] THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRUE LOVE. 407
" Grant me my brother's life ! " she said,
" And to you my love and liking I will give ! "
" That may not be," quoth he, " fair Maid !
Except he turn, he may not live ! "
" An English Friar there is," she said,
Of learning great, and of a 'passing pure life :
Let him be to my brother sent,
And he will finish soon the strife."
Her Master granted this request.
The Mariner in Friar's weeds she doth array :
And to her Love that lay distresst, '•
She doth a letter straightway convey.
When he had read her gentle lines,
His heavy heart was ravished with inward joy :
Where now she was, full well he finds.
The Friar likewise was not coy ;
But did declare to him at large
The enterprise his Love for him had taken in hand.
The young Man did the Friar charge
His Love should straight depart the land.
" Here is no place for her," he said,
" But woeful death and danger of her harmless life.
Professing truth, I was betrayed ;
And fearful flames must end our strife.
" For ere I will my faith deny,
And swear myself to follow damned Antichrist : •
I'll yield my body for to die,
To live in heaven with the Highest."
408 THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER OF BRISTOL. [c ^
" O Sir," the gentle Friar said,
M For your sweet Love, recant and save your wished
life ! "
" A woeful match," quoth he, " is made,
Where CHRIST is lost to win a Wife."
When she had wrought all means she might
To save her Friend, and that she saw it would not be :
Then of the Judge, she claimed her right
To die the death as well as he.
" For, look, what faith he doth profess ;
In that same faith, be sure that I will live and die !
Then ease us both in our distress,
Let us not live in misery ! "
When no persuasion would prevail,
Nor change her mind in anything that she had said :
She was with him condemned to die,
And for them both one fire made.
And arm in arm, most joyfully,
These Lovers twain unto the fire then did go.
The mariners, most faithfully,
Were likewise partners of their woe.
But when the Judges understood
The faithful friendship in them all that did remain,
They saved their lives ; and afterward,
To England sent them home again.
Now were their sorrows turned to joy,
And faithful Lovers had now their hearts' desire.
Their pains so well they did employ,
GOD granted what they did require.
j THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRUE LOVE. 409
And when they were in England come,
And to merry Bristow arrived at the last ;
Great joy there was of all and some,
That heard the dangers they had past.
Her father, he was dead, GOD wot :
And eke her mother was joyful of her sight ;
Their wishes she denied not,
But wedded them with heart's delight.
Her gentle Master she desired
To be her Father, and at church to give her then.
It was fulfilled, as she required,
Unto the joy of all good men.
FINIS.
Printed at London for William Blackwall
[about 1600].
Posies for Rings , or Mottoes Jit for Presents^
collected by
W. P.
[The Wits Academy, 1677.)
LOVE you well, yourself can tell.
Let Virtue guide my lawful Bride !
Sure you mistake! That bargain 's to make.
My tender heart, disdain makes smart.
My love shall ever faithful prove !
I moan because I lie alone.
Absence ne'er parts two loving hearts.
This and the giver are thine for ever.
I vow to kiss her that reads this.
The love I owe in this I show.
No turtle dove shall shew more love !
As I affect thee, so respect me.
The gift is small, but Love is all.
When this you see, remember me !
This to a friend I freely send.
Well directed, if well accepted.
I'll not express what you may guess.
When this you see, think well of me !
Virtue and Love are from above.
More near to me than life can be.
Though friends cross love, we'll meet above !
'Tis Love alone makes two but one.
You and I will Lovers die.
I seek to be both thine and thee.
I am sure to die, if you deny.
In thee each part doth catch a heart.
POSIES FOR RINGS. 411
My true love is endless as this.
When CUPID fails, the eye prevails.
Your blest sight is my delight.
I wish to have, but blush to crave.
I wish you knew what I owe you.
My constant love shall ne'er remove.
Take this in part of my true heart.
For one sweet kiss I give you this.
Nothing for thee too dear can be !
Desire like fire doth still aspire.
In troth you know it must be so.
My love you know, then say not " No ! "
If you this forego, you are my foe !
I love thee JOAN, and thee alone !
I love thee JOHN ; therefore come on !
My mind is bent, and I am content.
I'll venture till I find Love's centre.
I were an ass, should I let you pass.
In midst of grief, Love sends relief.
Where hearts agree, no strife can be.
I joy to find a constant mind.
Love never dies where Virtue lies.
Love's delight is to unite.
Let friend nor foe this secret know !
I must confess love goes by guess.
The nigher kin, the further in.
What I have done declare to none !
My name is HARRY, and DOLL I'll marry !
Come when you will, I am yours still.
I'll take my oath, to part I am loath.
I'll swear and vow that I love you !
I hope to meet some kisses sweet.
Though this be small, you shall have all !
When I am well ; have at thee, NELL !
I hope your mind 's to love inclined.
Forgive, or else I cannot live.
412 POSIES FOR RINGS.
You'll ever find me very kind.
I am full of love towards you my dove.
I this present with good intent.
What more I owe, you'll shortly know.
True friends, by love are made amends.
CUPID'S command ; who can withstand ?
Think well of me when this you see.
When you see this, blow me a kiss !
My only joy, be not so coy !
I love till death shall stop my breath.
Unto the end, I'll be your friend !
rw. p.
L 1677.
POEMS OF LOVE
in honour of
the admirable and singular virtues of
his Lady.
To the imitation of
the best Latin Poets, and others.
WHEREUNTO is ADDED
The Rising to the Crown of
RICHARD THE THIRD.
Auxit Musarum numerum SAPPHO addlta Musis.
Ftelix si stevus, sic vo/uitstt Amor.
414
In the First of the Piscatory Eclogues, which PHINEAS FLETCHER
included in the Volume containing his Purple Island, printed at Cam
bridge in 1633 in 410 ; he clearly describes, in the person of THELGON,
the career of his father, GILES FLETCHER the Elder, LL.D. : who went
English Ambassador to Muscovy ; and, on his return home, published,
in 1591, a book entitled Of the Russ Common Wealth; which was
quickly suppressed, lest it might give offence to the Czar.
The Ninth Stanza of this First Piscatory Eclogue thus begins :
And whether Nature, joined with Art, had wrought me ;
Or I too much believed the Fisher's praise ;
Or whether PnCEBUS self, or Muses, taught me ;
Too much inclined to Verse and music Plays :
So far credulity and youth had brought me,
I sang ....
THELGON then specifies the subjects of his Latin and English Poems :
amongst which, in the next Stanza, occurs this line :
And raised my rhyme to sing of RICHARD'S climbing.
Upon this allusion the authorship of LICIA is ascribed to PHINEAS
FLETCHER'S father.
The original edition of these Poems is undated. It was printed
(? privately printed) however about September 1593; as will be seen
from the date on pages 419, 423.
Ad Amor em.
Si coelum patria est puer beatum,
Si vero peperit VENUS benigna,
Si Nectar tibi Massicum ministrat ;
Si sancta Ambrosia est cibus petitus,
Quid noctes habitas, diesque mecum ?
Quid victum face supplicemque aduris ?
Quid longam lachrimis sitim repellis ?
Quid nostrae dape pasceris medullae ?
O vere rabidum genus faerarum :
O domo stige patriaque digne :
Jam levis sumus umbra, quid lacessis ?
Ad Lectorem.
Non convitia, nee latrationes,
Nee Ronchos timeo, calumniasve,
Nee ullos obelos severiores.
Non quod judicio meo Poeta
Sim tantus, nihil ut queat reprehendi ;
Sed quod judicio meo Poeta
Sim tarn ridiculus, parumque doctus,
Ut nullum fore judicem eruditum,
Meos carpere qui velit labores :
Nam quis yEthiopem velit lavare ?
416
To the Worshipful^ kind, wise, and
virtuous Lady, the Lady MOLLINEUXJ
Wife to the right Worshipful
Sir RICHARD MOLLINEUX Knight.
[OWSOEVER, in the settled opinions of some
wise heads, this trifling labour may easily incur
the suspicion of two evils ; either to be of an
idle subject, and so frivolous ; or vainly handled,
and so odious : yet my resolute purpose was to pro
ceed so far as the indifferent \impartial] Reader might
think this small pains to be rather an effect, than a cause, of
idleness. And howsoever LOVE, in this Age, hath behaved
himself in that loose manner as it is counted a disgrace to
give him but a kind look : yet I take the passion in itself to
be of that honour and credit as it is the perfect resemblance
of the greatest happiness ; and rightly valued at his just
price, in a mind that is sincerely and truly amorous, an affec
tion of the greatest virtue, and able of himself to eternize the
meanest vassal.
Concerning the handling of it, especially in this Age, men
may wonder, if a Scholar, How I come by so much leisure ?•
If otherwise, Why a Writer? Indeed to say truth, though I
cannot justly challenge the first name ; yet I wish none to
be Writers, save only such as know Learning. And whereas
my thoughts and some reasons drew me rather to have dealt
in causes of greater weight ; yet the present jar of this dis
agreeing Age drives me into a fit so melancholy as I only
had leisure to grow passionate. And I see not why, upon
our dissensions, I may not sit down idle, forsake my study,
G. Fletcher, LL.D.-j TRE EpISTLE DEDICATORY. 417
and go sing of Love ; as well as our Brownists forsake the
Church, and write of malice.
And that this is a matter not so unfit for a man, either
that respecteth himself, or is a Scholar ; peruse but the
writings of former times : and you shall see, not only others
in other countries, as Italy and France, Men of Learning and
great parts to have written Poems and Sonnets of Love ;
but even amongst us, men of best nobility and chiefest
families to be the greatest Scholars and most renowned in
this kind. But two reasons hath made it a thing foolishly
odious in this Age. The one, that so many base companions
are the greatest Writers. The other, that our English Gene-
vian Purity hath quite debarred us of honest recreation : yet
the great Pillar, as they make him \i.e. JEAN CALVIN], of
that Cause hath shewed us as much wit and learning in this
kind as any other before or since.
Furthermore for all students, I will say thus much ; that
the base conceit which men generally have of their wants is
such, as I scarce term him a Scholar that hath not all the
accomplyments \accomplishmenls\ of a Gentleman ; nor suf
ficiently wise that will not take opportunity in some sort to
shew it. For I can say thus much, that the University
wherein I lived [evidently Cambridge^ and so I think the
other \Oxford\, hath so many wise, excellent, sufficient,
men as, setting their learning aside wherein they are most
excellent, yet in all habiliments of a Gentleman they are
equal to any besides. This would that worthy SYDNEY oft
confess ; and [Sir JOHN] HARINGTON's ARIOSTO (which,
Madam, was respected so much by you) sheweth that his
abode was in King's College [Cambridge]. Yet now it is
grown to this pass, that Learning is lightly respected ; upon
a persuasion that it is to be found everywhere: a thing
untrue and unpossible.
Now in that I have written Love Sonnets ; if any man
measure my affection by my style, let him say, I am in love.
No great matter ! For if our purest Divines have not been
ENG. GAR. VIII. 27
4i 8 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. [ a Fletcher. L[-£;
so, why are so many married? I mislike not that, nor I
would not have them mislike this. For a man may be in
love, and not marry ; and yet wise : but he cannot marry
and not be in love, but be a mere fool.
Now for the manner. We will dispute that in some other
place ; yet take this by the way : though I am so liberal to
grant thus much — a man may write of Love and not be in
love ; as well as of husbandry and not go to the plough ; or
of witches and be none ; or of holiness and be flat profane.
But, wise and kind Lady, not to trouble your ears with
this idle discourse, let this suffice. I found favours unde
served in such manner as my rude ability wants means to
recompence ; and therefore in the mean time I request you
to accept this. If I had not so wondered at your admirable
and rare virtues that my heart was surcharged with the
exceeding measure of your worthiness, I had not written.
You are happy every way, and so reputed. Live so, and I
wish so you may live long ! Excuse me, favour me : and, if I
live (for I loath to admire without thankfulness), ere long it
shall be known what favours I received from wise Sir
RICHARD ; to whom in all kind affects I rest bound.
For the Reader, if he look for my letters to crave his
favour ; he is far deceived. For if he mislike anything, I am
sorry he took the pains to read : but if he do, let him dis
praise ; I much care not. For praise is not but as men
please, and it is no chief felicity. For I have heard some
men, and of late, for Sermons at Paul's Cross and for other
pains, so commended by all, excepting some few Cynics that
commend none that do well, that you would have thought
England would have striven for their speedy preferment :
but, like a wonder, it last but nine days ; and all is quiet and
forgotten. The best is, they are young men and may live to
be preferred at another time. So what am I worse if men
mislike and use terms ? I can say as much by them. For
our great men, I am sure, they want leisure to read : and if
they had ; yet, for the most part, the worst speak worst.
G. Fletcher, LL.D.
1593
;] THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
419
Well let the Printer look he grow not a beggar by such
bargains, the Reader that he lose not his labour, and for
mine that is past ! And whoso wisely, after an afternoon's
sleep, gapes, and saith, " O how young men spend their time
idly ! " ; first, let him spend his time better than to sleep :
secondly, he knows not my age. I feared a hot ague ; and,
with TASSO, I was content to let my Wit blood.
But leaving these to their dogged humour ; and wishing
your Ladyship all happiness, I humbly take my leave.
From my chamber. September 4, 1593.
420
To the Reader.
HAD thought, courteous and gentle Reader, not
to have troubled thy patience with these lines :
but that, in the neglect thereof, I should either
scorn thee, as careless of thine opinion, a thing
savouring of a proud humour ; or despair to obtain thy
favour, which I am loath to conceive of thy good nature.
If I were known, I would entreat in the best manner ; and
speak for him whom thou knewest. But being not known,
thou speakest not against me ; and therefore I much care
not. For this kind of poetry wherein I wrote, I did it only
to try my humour. And for the matter of Love, it may be
I am so devoted to some one into whose hands these may
light by chance, that she may say, which thou now sayest
" That surely he is in love : " which if she do, then have I
the full recompence of my labour; and the Poems have
dealt sufficiently for the discharge of their own duty.
This Age is learnedly wise, and faultless in this kind of
making their wits known : thinking so basely of our bare
English, wherein thousands have travailed with such ill luck,
that they deem themselves barbarous and the island barren,
unless they have borrowed from Italy, Spain, and France
their best and choicest conceits. For my own part, I am of
this mind that our nation is so exquisite (neither would I
overweenirigly seem to flatter our home-spun stuff, or
G, Fletcher, LL.D.J ToTHEREADER. 42!
diminish the credit of our brave travellers) that neither
Italy, Spain, nor France can go beyond us for exact in
vention. For if anything be odious amongst us, it is the
«xile of our old manners, and some base-born phrases
stuft up with such new terms, as a man may sooner feel
us to flatter by our incrouching eloquence than suspect it
from the ear.
And for the matter of Love, where every man takes upon
himself to court exactly ; I could justly grace (if it be a
grace to be excellent in that kind) the Inns of Court, and
some Gentlemen like[wise] Students in both Universities :
whose learning and bringing up together with their fine
natures make so sweet a harmony as, without partiality, the
most injurious will prefer them before all others ; and there
fore they only are fitted to write of Love.
For others, for the most part, are men of mean reach,
whose debased minds prey upon every bad dish. Men unfit
to know what Love means ; deluded fondly with their own
conceit, misdeeming so divine a fancy ; taking it to be the
contentment of themselves, the shame of others, the wrong of
virtue ; and the refiner of the tongue, boasting of some few
favours. These and such like errors (errors hateful to an
upright mind) commonly by learnless heads are reputed for
Love's Kingdom. But vain men, naturally led ; deluded
themselves, [they] deceive others.
For Love is a goddess (pardon me though I speak like a
Poet) not respecting the contentment of him that loves but
the virtues of the beloved, satisfied with wondering, fed with
admiration, respecting nothing but his Lady's worthiness,
made as happy by love as by all favours, chaste by honour,
far from violence : respecting but one ; and that one in such
422 To THE READER. [G- Fletcher>
kindness honesty truth constancy and honour, as were all
the World offered to make a change, yet the boot were too
small, and therefore bootless. This is Love, and far more
than this ; which I know a vulgar head, a base mind, an
ordinary conceit, a common person will not, and cannot,
have. Thus do I commend that love wherewith, in these
Poems, I have honoured the worthy L I C I A.
But the love wherewith VENUS' son hath injuriously made
spoil of thousands, is a cruel Tyrant : occasion of sighs,
oracle of lies, enemy of pity, way of error, shape of incon
stancy, temple of treason, faith without assurance, monarch
of tears, murderer of ease, prison of hearts, monster of
Nature, poisoned honey, impudent courtezan, furious bastard :
and in one word, not Love.
Thus, Reader, take heed thou err not ! Esteem Love as
thou ought[est] !
If thou muse, What my LlCIA is ? Take her to be some
DIANA, at the least chaste ; or some MINERVA : no VENUS,
fairer far. It may be she is Learning's Image, or some
heavenly wonder: which the Precisest may not mislike.
Perhaps under that name I have shadowed " [The Holy]
Discipline." It may be, I mean that kind courtesy which
I found at the Patroness of these Poems, it may be some
College. It may be my conceit, and pretend nothing.
Whatsoever it be ; if thou like it, take it ! and thank the
worthy Lady MOLLINEUX, for whose sake thou hast it :
worthy indeed, and so not only reputed by me in private
affection of thankfulness ; but so equally to be esteemed by
all that know her.
For if I had not received of her and good Sir RICHARD,
of kind and wise Master LEE, of courteous Master HOUGH-
G. Fletcher, LL.D.
1593
To THE READER.
423
TON, all matchless, matched in one kindred, those unrequit
able favours ; I had not thus idly toyed.
If thou mislike it ; yet she, or they, or both, or divine
LlCIA shall patronize it : or if none ; I will, and can, do it
myself. Yet I wish thy favour. Do but say, Thou art con
tent ; and I rest thine. If not, Farewell ! till we both meet
September 8. 1593.
\
424
To LICIA,
the wise^ J^ind^ virtuous^ and fair.
RIGHT matchless Star, the honour of
the sky !
From whose clear shine heaven's vault
hath all his light.
I send these Poems to your graceful
eye.
Do you but take them, and they have their right.
I build besides a Temple to your name,
Wherein my thoughts shall daily sing your praise ;
And will erect an Altar for the same,
Which shall, your virtues and your honour raise.
But heaven, the Temple of your honour is ;
Whose brazen tops your worthy self made proud :
The ground an Altar, base for such a bliss,
With pity torn, because I sighed so loud.
And since my skill no worship can impart ;
Make you an incense of my loving heart !
J. Fletcher, LL.D.-J L I C I A. 42 5
SONNET I.
|AD, all alone, not long I musing sat
But that my thoughts compelled me to aspire.
A laurel garland in my hand I gat,
So the Muses I approached the nigher.
My suit was this, A Poet to become ;
To drink with them, and from the heavens be fed.
PHCEBUS denied ; and sware, " There was no room
Such to be Poets as fond Fancy led."
With that I mourned, and sat me down to weep.
VENUS she smiled, and smiling to me said,
" Come drink with me, and sit thee still and sleep ! "
This voice I heard, and VENUS I obeyed.
That poison, Sweet, hath done me all this wrong ;
For now of Love must needs be all my Song.
SONNET II.
JEARY was LOVE, and sought to take his rest.
He made his choice upon a Virgin's lap ;
And slyly crept from thence into her breast,
Where still he meant to sport him in his hap.
The Virgin frowned, like PHCEBUS in a cloud,
" Go pack, sir boy, here is no room for such !
My breast, no wanton foolish boys must shroud ! "
This said, my Love did give the Wag a touch.
Then as the foot, that treads the stinging snake,
Hastes to be gone, for fear what may ensue :
:So LOVE, my Love was forced for to forsake ;
And, for more speed, without his arrows flew.
" Pardon ! " he said, " for why you seemed to me,
My mother VENUS in her pride to be."
426
L I CIA.
"G. Fletcher, LL.D.
L 1593-
SONNET III.
[HE heavens beheld the beauty of my Queen ;
And all amazed, to wonder thus began :
" Why dotes not JOVE, as erst we all have seen,.
And shapes himself like to a seemly man ?
Mean are the matches which he sought before ;
Like bloomless buds, too base to make compare :
And she alone hath treasured Beauty's store ;
In whom all gifts and princely graces are."
CUPID replied, " I posted with the sun
To view the Maids that lived in all those days :
And none there was that might not well be won,
But She ; most hard, most cold, made of delays."
Heavens were deceived, and wrong they do esteem ;
She hath no heat, although She living seem.
SONNET IV.
[OvE and my Love did range the forest wild,
Mounted alike upon swift coursers both.
LOVE her encountered, though he was a child,
" Let's strive ! " said he. Whereat my Love
was wroth ;
And scorned the boy, and checked him with a smile.
" I mounted am, and armed with my spear.
Thou art too weak ! Thyself do not beguile !
I could thee conquer, if I naked \unarmed\ were !"
With this LOVE wept, and then my Love replied :
" Kiss me, sweet boy, so ! Weep, my boy, no more ! "
Thus did my Love, and thus her force she tried :
LOVE was made ice, that fire was before.
A kiss of hers (as I, poor soul, do prove)
Can make the hottest, freeze ; and coldest love.
G. Fletcher, LL.DJ L I C I A.
SONNET V.
|OVE, with her hair, my Love by force hath tied ;
To serve her lips, her eyes, her voice, her hand.
I smiled for joy when I the boy espied
To lie unchained, and live at her command.
She, if She look, or kiss, or sing, or smile ;
CUPID withal doth smile, doth sing, doth kiss.
Lips, hands, voice, eyes, all hearts that may beguile ;
Because She scorns, all hearts but only this.
VENUS for this in pride began to frown,
That CUPID, born a god, inthralled should be :
She, in disdain, her pretty son threw down ;
And in his place, with love she chained me.
So now, sweet Love, tho' I myself be thrall ;
Not her a goddess, but thyself, I call.
SONNET VI.
j|Y Love, amazed, did blush herself to see,
Pictured by Art, all naked as she was.
" How could the Painter know so much by me,
Or Art effect what he hath brought to pass ?
It is not like, he naked me hath seen ;
Or stood so nigh for to observe so much."
No, Sweet, his eyes so near have never been ;
Nor could his hands by Art have cunning such :
I showed my heart, wherein you printed were ;
You, naked you, as here you painted are.
In that, my Love, your picture I must wear ;
And show 't to all, unless you have more care :
Then take my heart, and place it with your own !
So shall you naked never more be known.
428
L I C I A.
'G. Fletcher, LL.D
1593-
SONNET VII.
|EATH, in a rage, assaulted once my heart
With love of her, my love that doth deny.
I scorned his force, and wished him to depart,
I heartless was, and therefore could not die.
I live in her. In her I placed my life.
She guides my soul, and her I honour must
Nor is this life ; but yet a living strife :
A thing unmeet, and yet a thing most just.
CUPID, enraged, did fly to make me love ;
My heart lay guarded with those burning eyes,
The sparks whereof denied him to remove :
So conquered now, he like a captive lies.
Thus two at once by love are both undone :
My heart not loved ; and armless VENUS' son.
SONNET VIII.
[ARD are the rocks, the marble, and the steel,
The ancient oak with wind and weather tosst ;
But you, my Love, far harder do I feel
Than flint, or these, or is the winter's frost.
My tears too weak, your heart they cannot move ;
My sighs, that rock, like wind it cannot rent ;
Too tiger-like, you swear you cannot love :
But tears and sighs you fruitless back have sent.
The frost too hard, not melted with my flame ;
I cinders am, and yet you feel no heat :
Surpass not these, sweet Love, for very shame !
But let my tears, my vows, my sighs entreat !
Then shall I say, as I by trial find,
These all are hard ; but you, my Love, are kind.
G. Fletcher, LL.D.T T r _
1593- J I* 1C I A. 429
SONNET IX.
fOvE was laid down, all weary, fast asleep ;
Whereas my Love his armour took away.
The boy awaked, and straight began to weep ;
But stood amazed, and knew not what to say.
" Weep not, my boy," said VENUS to her son,
" Thy weapons none can wield but thou alone.
LICIA the Fair, this harm to thee hath done ;
I saw her here, and presently was gone.
She will restore them, for she hath no need
To take thy weapons, where thy valour lies.
For men to wound, the Fates have her decreed
With favour, hands, with beauty, and with eyes."
No, VENUS, no ! She scorns them, credit me !
But robbed thy son, that none might care for thee !
SONNET X
PAINTER drew the image of the boy,
Swift LOVE, with wings, all naked, and yet blind ;
With bow and arrows bent for to destroy.
I blamed his skill ; and fault I thus did find :
" A needless task I see thy cunning take :
Misled by love, thy fancy thee betrayed.
Love is no boy, nor blind, as men him make ;
Nor weapons wears, whereof to be afraid :
But if thou Love wilt paint with greatest skill ;
A Love, a Maid, a goddess, and a Queen !
Wonder and view at LICIA'S picture still !
For other Love, the World hath never seen.
For She alone, all hope, all comfort, gives :
Men's hearts, souls all, led by her favour, live."
430
LlCIA.
J. Fletcher, LL.D.
1593-
SONNET XI.
N Ida Vale three Queens, the Shepherd saw ;
Queens of esteem, divine, they were all three.
A sight of worth, but I a wonder show :
Their virtues all in one alone to be.
LlCIA the Fair surpassing VENUS's pride,
(The matchless Queen, commander of the gods,
When, drawn with doves, she in her pomp doth ride)
Hath far more beauty and more grace by odds :
JUNO, JOVE'S wife, unmeet to make compare;
I grant a goddess, but not half so mild :
MINERVA wise, a virtue ; but not rare.
Yet these are mean, if that my Love but smiled.
She them surpasseth, when their prides are full,
As far as they surpass the meanest trull.
SONNET XII.
WISH sometimes, although a worthless thing,
Spurred by ambition, glad for to aspire,
Myself a Monarch, or some mighty King :
And then my thoughts do wish for to be higher.
But when I view what winds the cedars toss,
What storms men feel that covet for renown ;
I blame myself that I have wished my loss :
And scorn a Kingdom, though it give a Crown.
A' LlCIA thou, the wonder of my thought,
My heart's content, procurer of my bliss ;
For whom, a Crown I do esteem as nought :
And Asia's wealth, too mean to buy a kiss.
Kiss me, sweet Love ! this favour do for me ;
Then Crowns and Kingdoms shall I scorn for thee.
O. Fletcher, LL.D.-J L 1 C I A. 431
SONNET XIII.
NAMOURED JOVE, commanding, did entreat
CUPID to wound my Love : which he denied,
And swore he could not, for she wanted heat ;
And would not love, as he full oft had tried.
JOVE, in a rage, impatient this to hear,
Replied with threats, " I'll make you to obey ! "
Whereat the boy did fly away for fear
To LICIA'S eyes, where safe entrenched he lay.
Then JOVE, he scorned ; and dared him to his face:
For now more safe than in the heavens he dwelled ;
Nor could JOVE'S wrath do wrong to such a place,
Where Grace and Honour have their kingdom held.
Thus, in the pride and beauty of her eyes,
The silly boy, the greatest god defies.
SONNET XIV.
Y Love lay sleeping where birds music made,
Shutting her eyes, disdainful of the light :
The heat was great ; but greater was the shade
Which her defended from his burning sight.
This CUPID saw, and came a kiss to take ;
Sucking sweet nectar from her sugared breathe
She felt the touch, and blushed, and did awake.
Seeing 'twas LOVE, which she did think was DEATH,
She cut his wings, and caused him to stay ;
Making a vow, he should not thence depart
Unless to her, the wanton boy could pay
The truest, kindest, and most loving heart.
His feathers still She used for a fan ;
Till, by exchange, my heart his feathers wan.
432
L I C I A.
J. Fletcher, LL.D-
1593-
SONNET XV.
STOOD amazed, and saw my LlCIA shine
Fairer than PHCEBUS in his brightest pride ;
Set forth in colours by a hand divine,
Where naught was wanting but a soul to guide.
It was a picture that I could descry,
Yet made .with art so as it seemed to live ;
Surpassing fair, and yet it had no eye :
Whereof my senses could no reason give.
With that the Painter bid me not to muse,
M Her eyes are shut ; but I deserve no blame :
For if she saw, in faith, it could not choose
But that the work had wholly been aflame."
Then burn me, Sweet, with brightness of your eyes ;
That, Phoenix-like, from thence I may arise.
SONNET XVI.
RANT, fairest kind, a kiss unto thy friend ! "
A blush replied ; and yet a kiss I had.
It is not heaven that can such nectar send
Whereat my senses, all amazed, were glad.
This done, She fled as one that was afraid ;
And I desired to kiss, by kissing more.
My Love, she frowned ; and I my kissing stayed :
Yet wished to kiss her as I did before.
Then as the vine, the propping elm doth clasp,.
Loth to depart, till both together die ;
So fold me, Sweet ; until my latest gasp !
That in thy arms, to death I kissed, may lie.
Thus whilst I live, for kisses I must call :
Still kiss me, Sweet, or kiss me not at all !
G. Fletcher, LL.D.l T T r , . .
»M3.J ^ i c i A. 433
SONNET XVII.
S are the Sands, fair LlClA, on the shore ;
Or coloured flowers, garlands of the Spring ;
Or as the frosts not seen nor felt before ;
Or as the fruits that Autumn forth doth bring ;
As twinkling stars, the tinsel of the night ;
Or as the fish that gallop in the seas ;
As airs, each part that still escapes our sight :
So are my Sighs, controllers of my ease.
Yet these are such as needs must have an end,
For things finite, none else hath Nature done :
Only the sighs which from my heart I send
Will never cease, but where they first began.
Accept them, Sweet, as incense due to thee !
For you immortal made them so to be.
SONNET XVIII.
SWEAR, fair LlCIA, still for to be thine ;
By heart, by eyes, by what I hold most dear !
Thou checkedst mine oath, and said, " These
were not mine ;
And that I had no right by them to swear."
Then by my sighs, my passions, and my tears,
My vows, my prayers, my sorrow, and my love,
My grief, my joy, my hope, and hopeless fears •
My heart is thine, and never shall remove !
These are not thine, though sent unto thy view ;
All else I grant, by right they are thine own.
Let these suffice, that what 1 swear is true ;
And more than this, if that it could be known.
So shall all these, though troubles, ease my grief,
If that they serve to work in thee belief.
ENG. GAR. VIII. 28
434
L 1 C I A.
'G. Fletcher, LL.D.
1593-
SONNET XIX.
] HAT time, fair LICIA, when I stole a kiss
From off those lips where CUPID lovely laid,
I quaked for cold : and found the cause was this :
My Life which loved, for love behind me stayed.
I sent my Heart, my Life for to recall ;
But that was held, not able to return :
And both detained, as captives were in thrall,
And judged by her, that both by sighs should burn.
Fair, burn them both ! for that they were so bold ;
But let the altar be within thy heart !
And I shall live, because my life you hold ;
You that give life to every living part.
A flame I took when as I stole the kiss :
Take you my life ! yet can I live with this.
SONNET XX.
jlRST did I fear, when first my love began ;
Possessed in fits by watchful jealousy,
I sought to keep what I by favour wan,
And brooked no partner in my love to be.
But tyrant Sickness fed upon my Love,
And spread his ensigns dyed with colour white ;
Then was Suspicion glad for to remove ;
And loving much did fear to lose her quite.
Erect, fair Sweet, the colours thou didst wear !
Dislodge thy griefs, the short'ners of content !
For now of life, not love, is all my fear :
"Lest life and love be both together spent
Live but, fair Love, and banish thy disease !
And love, kind Heart, both when, and whom, thou please !
<3. Fletcher, LL.D.-| r
IS93-J 1* I C I A. 43 ;,
SONNET XXI.
1 1 CIA, my Love, was sitting in a grove ;
Tuning her smiles unto the chirping songs :
But straight she spied where two together strove,
Each one complaining of the other's wrongs.
CUPID did cry, lamenting of the harm,
" JOVE'S Messenger, thou wrong'st me too too far !
Use thou thy rod ! rely upon thy charm !
Think not by speech, my force thou can'st debar ! "
" A rod, sir boy, were fitter for a child !
My weapons oft, and tongue, and mind you took :
And in my wrong, at my distress thou smiled ;
And scorn to grace me with a loving look."
Speak you, Sweet Love, for you did all the wrong !
That broke his arrows, and did bind his tongue.
SONNET XXII.
MIGHT have died before my life began ;
When as my father, for his country's good,
The Persians' favour and the Sophy wan :
But yet with danger of his dearest blood."
Thy father, Sweet, whom danger did beset,
Escaped all : and for no other end
But only this, that you he might beget :
Whom heavens decreed into the world to send.
Then, father, thank thy daughter for thy life !
And Neptune praise, that yielded so to thee,
To calm the tempest, when the storms were rife ;
And that thy daughter should a VENUS be.
I call thee VENUS, Sweet ! but be not wroth ;
Thou art more chaste, yet seas did favour both.
436 Lie i A [G- Fletcher- L^9D3;
SONNET XXIII.
JY Love was masked, and armed with a fan ;
To see the sun so careless of his light :
Which stood and gazed ; and gazing, waxed wan
To see a star, himself that was more bright
Some did surmise She hid her from the sun ;
Of whom, in pride, She scorned for to be kissed :
And feared the harm by him to others done.
But these the reason of this wonder missed ;
Nor durst the sun, if that her face were bare,
In greatest pride presume to take a kiss :
But she, more kind, did show she had more care
Than with her eyes eclipse him of his bliss.
Unmask you, Sweet, and spare not ! dim the sun !
Your light's enough, although that his were done.
SONNET XXIV.
|HEN as my Love lay sickly in her bed,
Pale Death did post, in hope to have a prey ;
But she so spotless made him, that he fled :
" Unmeet to die," he cried ; and could not stay»
Back he retired, and thus the heavens he told :
" All things that are, are subject unto me ;
Both towns, and men, and what the world doth hold :
But let fair LiciA still immortal be ! "
The heavens did grant. A goddess she was made,
Immortal, fair, unfit to suffer change.
So now she lives, and never more shall fade.
In earth, a goddess. What can be more strange ?
Then will I hope ! A goddess, and so near ;
She cannot choose, my sighs and prayers but hear.
G. Fletcher, LL.D.-j LjTTA
1593. J J^, 1 (, 1 A.
SONNET XXV.
EVEN are the Lights that wander in the skies :
And at these seven, I wonder in my Love.
To see the Moon how pale she doth arise ;
Standing amazed, as though she durst not move
So is my Sweet, much paler than the snow ;
Constant her looks, those looks that cannot change.
MERCURY the next, a god sweet-tongued we know ;
But her sweet voice doth wonders speak more strange.
The rising Sun doth boast him of his pride ;
And yet my Love is far more fair than he.
The warlike MARS can wieldless weapons guide ;
But yet that god is far more weak than She.
The lovely VENUS seemeth to be fair ;
But at her best, my Love is far more bright.
SATURN, for age, with groans doth dim the air ;
Whereas my Love, with smiles doth give it light.
Gaze at her brows, where heaven engrafted is ;
Then sigh, and swear, There is no heaven but this.
SONNET XXVI.
LIVE, sweet Love, where as the gentle wind
Murmurs with sport, in midst of thickest boughs ;
Where loving woodbine doth the harbour bind,
And chirping birds do echo forth my vows ;
Where strongest elm can scarce support the
vine,
And sweetest flowers enamelled have the ground ;
Where Muses dwell : and yet hereat repine
That on the earth so rare a place was found.
But winds delight : I wish to be content.
I praise the woodbine : but I take no joy.
I moan the birds that music thus have spent.
As for the rest, they breed but mine annoy.
Live thou, fair LlCIA, in this place alone :
Then shall I joy, though all of these were gone.
438
L 1 C I A.
[G. Fletcher, LL.1X
1593-
SONNET XXVII.
HE crystal streams, wherein my Love did swim,
Melted in tears, as partners of my woe ;
Her shine was such as did the fountain dim,
The pearl-like fountain, whiter than the snow.
Then, like perfume resolved with a heat,
The fountain smoked, as if it thought to burn.
A wonder strange to see the cold so great,
And yet the fountain into smoke to turn.
I searched the cause, and found it to be this :
She touched the water, and it burnt with love.
Now, by her means, it purchased hath that bliss
Which all diseases quickly can remove.
Then if, by you, these streams thus blessed be :
. Sweet, grant me love ; and be not worse to me !
SONNET XXVIII.
N time the strong and stately turrets fall.
In time the rose, and silver lilies die.
In time the monarchs captive are and thrall.
In time the sea and rivers are made dry.
The hardest flint in time doth melt asunder.
Still living fame, in time doth fade away.
The mountains proud, we see in time come under :
And earth, for aye, we see in time decay.
The sun in time forgets for to retire
From out the East, where he was wont to rise.
The basest thoughts, we see in time aspire.
And greedy minds, in time do wealth despise.
Thus all, sweet Fair, in time must have an end :
Except thy beauty, virtues, and thy friend.
G. Fletcher, LL.D. "I T T r T A A->r\
IS93.J i^ i c i A, 439
SONNET XXIX.
| HEN as my LiciA sailed in the seas,
Viewingwith pride,god NEPTUNE'S statelycrown,
A calm she made, and brought the merchant ease;
The storm she stayed, and checked him with a
frown.
Love at the stern sat smiling, and did sing
To see how seas had learned for to obey ;
And balls of fire into the waves did fling.
And still the boy, full wanton, thus did say :
" Both poles we burnt, whereon the world doth turn ;
The round of heaven from earth unto the skies :
And now the seas, we both intend to burn ;
I with my bow, and LlClA with her eyes."
Then since thy force, heavens, earth, nor seas can move ;
I conquered, yield : and do confess I love.
SONNET XXX.
] HEN as her lute is tuned to her voice,
The air grows proud for honour of that sound ;
And rocks do leap, to shew how they rejoice
That in the earth such music should be found.
When as her hair (more worth, more pale, than gold)
Like silver thread lies wafting in the air ;
DlANA-like she looks, but yet more bold :
Cruel in chase, more chaste, and yet more fair.
When as she smiles, the cloud for envy breaks ;
She JOVE in pride encounters with a check :
The sun doth shine for joy when as she speaks,
Thus heaven and earth do homage at her beck.
Yet all these graces, blots ; not graces, are :
If you, my Love, of love do take no care.
440
L I C I A.
EG. Fletcher, LL.D.
'593-
SONNET XXXI.
EARS, months, days, hours, in sighs I sadly spend.
I black the night, wherein I sleepless toss.
I love my griefs, yet wish them at an end.
Thus time's expense increaseth but my loss.
I musing stand, and wonder at my Love ;
That in so fair, should be a heart of steel.
And then I think, my fancy to remove :
But then more painful I my passions feel.
Thus must I love, sweet Fair, until I die ;
And your unkindness doth my love increase :
I conquered am, I cannot it deny.
My life must end ; yet shall my love not cease.
Then heavens, make LlClA fair most kind to me ;
Or with my life, my love may finished be !
SONNET XXXII.
WROTE my sighs, and sent them to my Love.
I praised that Fair, that none enough could praise:
But plaints, nor praises, could fair LlClA move.
Above my reach, she did her virtues raise.
And thus replied, " False scrawl, untrue thou art !
To feign those sighs that nowhere can be found.
For half those praises came not from his heart ;
Whose faith and love, as yet, was never found.
" Thy master's life, false scrawl, shall be thy doom !
Because he burns, I judge thee to the flame !
Both your attempts deserve no better room."
Thus, at her word, we ashes both became.
Believe me, Fair, and let my paper live !
Or be not fair, and so me freedom give.
3. Fletcher, LL.D.-J L I C I A. 44 1
SONNET XXXIII.
| ALE are my looks, forsaken of my life :
Cinders, my bones ; consumed with thy flame.
Floods are my tears, to end this burning strife ;
And yet I sigh, for to increase the same.
I mourn alone, because alone I burn :
Who doubts of this, then let him learn to love !
Her looks, cold ice into a flame can turn ;
As I distressed in myself do prove.
Respect, fair LlClA, what my torments are !
•Count but the tithe both of my sighs and tears !
See how my love doth still increase my care !
And care's increase, my life to nothing wears.
Send but a sigh, my flame for to increase :
Or lend a tear, and cause it so to cease.
SONNET XXXIV.
HEN as I wish, fair LlClA, for a kiss
From those sweet lips, where rose and lilies strive ;
Straight do mine Eyes repine at such a bliss,
And seek my Lips thereof for to deprive.
When as I seek to glut mine Eyes by sight ;
My Lips repine, and call mine Eyes away.
Thus both contend to have each other's right ;
And both conspire to work my full decay.
O force admired, of Beauty in her pride ;
In whose each part such strange effects there be,
That all my forces in themselves divide,
And make my senses plainly disagree.
If all were mine, this envy would be gone :
Then grant me all, fair Sweet ; or grant me none !
442
L I C 1 A. [G- Fletcher> L^g;
SONNET XXXV.
I EAR how my Sighs are echoed by the wind !
See how my Tears are pitied by the rain !
Feel what a Flame possessed hath my mind !
Taste but the Grief which I possess in vain !
Then if my Sighs, the blustering wind surpass ;
And wat'ry Tears, the drops of rain exceed ;
And if no Flame like mine nor is, nor was ;
Nor Grief like that whereon my soul doth feed :
Relent, fair LlCIA ! when my Sighs do blow :
Yield at my Tears ! that flintlike drops consume :
Accept the Flame ! that doth my incense show :
Allow the Grief! that is my heart's perfume :
Thus Sighs, and Tears, Flame, Grief, shall plead for me ;
So shall I pray, and you a goddess be.
SONNET XXXVI.
SPEAK, fair LlCIA, what my torments be ;
But then my speech too partial do I find :
For hardly words can with those thoughts agree:
Those thoughts that swarm in such a troubled
mind.
Then do I vow my tongue shall never speak,
Nor tell my grief that in my heart doth lie :
But, cannon-like, I, then surcharged, do break.
And so my silence worse than speech I try.
Thus speech, or none, they both do breed my care :
I live dismayed and kill my heart with grief.
In all respects my case alike doth fare.
To him that wants ; and dares not ask relief.
Then you, fair LlCIA, Sovereign of my heart,
Read to yourself my anguish and my smart !
G. Fletcher, LL.D.
'593
L i c i A. 443
SONNET XXXVII.
WEET, I protest, and seal it with an oath,
I never saw that so my thoughts did please :
And yet content, displeased I see them wroth
To love so much, and cannot have their ease.
I told my thoughts, " My Sovereign made a pause :
Disposed to grant, but willing to delay."
They then repined, for that they knew no cause ;
And swore they wished She flatly would say " Nay."
Thus hath my love, my thoughts with treason filled ;
And 'gainst my Sovereign taught them to repine :
So thus my treason, all my thoughts hath killed ;
And made fair LlClA say, She is not mine.
But thoughts too rash, my heart doth now repent :
And, as you please, they swear they are content.
SONNET XXXVIII.
| AlR matchless Nymph, respect but what I crave!
My thoughts are true, and honour is my love.
I fainting die, whom yet a smile might save.
You gave the wound, and can the hurt remove.
Those eyes, like stars that twinkle in the night ;
And cheeks, like rubies pale in lilies dyed ;
Those ebon [ivory] hands that darting have such might :
That in my soul, my love and life divide.
Accept the Passions of a man possesst !
Let love be loved, and grant me leave to live !
Disperse those clouds that darkened have my rest ;
And let your heaven, a sunlike smile but give !
Then shall I praise that heaven for such a sun ;
That saved my life, when as my grief begun.
444 Li CIA. [G. Fletcher, LL.D.
SONNET XXXIX.
|Y grief began, fair Saint, when first I saw
Love, in those eyes, sit ruling with disdain ;
Whose sweet commands did keep a world in awe :
And caused them serve, your favour to obtain.
I stood as one enchanted with a frown ;
Yet smiled to see all creatures serve those eyes :
Where each with sighs paid tribute to that crown ;
And thought them graced by your dumb replies.
But I, ambitious, could not be content
Till that my service, more than sighs made known ;
And for that end, my heart to you I sent,
To say and swear that, Fair ! it is your own.
Then greater graces, LlGIA, do impart !
Not dumb replies, unto a speaking heart.
SONNET XL.
A Sonnet made upon the Two Twins, daughters of the
Lady MOLLINEUX ; both passing like, and exceeding\ly\ fair.
JOETS did feign that heavens a VENUS had ;
Matchless herself, and CUPID was her son.
Men sued to these, and of their smiles were glad ;
By whom so many famous were undone.
Now CUPID mourns that he hath lost his might,
And that these Two so comely are to see ;
And VENUS frowns, because they have her right :
Yet both so like that both shall blameless be.
With heaven's Two Twins for godhead these may strive ;
And rule a World with least part of a frown :
Fairer than these Two Twins are not alive ;
Both conquering Queens, and both deserve a Crown.
My thoughts presage, which time to come shall try,
That thousands conquered, for their love shall die.
G.F.etcher,LL.D.J L I C I A. 445
SONNET XL I.
]F, aged ClIARON, when my life shall end,
I pass thy ferry and my waftage pay,
Thy oars shall fail thy boat, and mast shall rend ;
And through the deep shall be a dry footway.
For why ? My heart with sighs doth, breathe such flame
That air and water both incensed be :
The boundless ocean from whose mouth they came
(For from my heat not heaven itself is free !).
Then since to me my loss can be no gain ;
Avoid thy harm, and fly what I foretell !
Make thou my Love with me for to be slain ;
That I with her, and both with thee, may dwell.
Thy fact thus, CHARON, both of us shall bless :
Thou save thy boat, and I my Love possess.
SONNET XLII.
OR if alone thou think to waft my Love,
Her cold is such as can the sea command ;
And frozen ice shall let \hinder\ thy boat to move.
Nor can thy forces row it from the land.
But if thou, friendly, both at once shall take ;
Thyself mayest rest ! For why ? My sighs will blow.
Our cold and heat so sweet a thaw shall make
As that thy boat, without thy help, shall row.
Then will I sit and glut me on those eyes
Wherewith my life, my eyes could never fill.
Thus from thy boat that comfort shall arise,
The want whereof my life and hope did kill.
Together placed, so thou her scorn shalt cross :
Where if we part, thy boat must suffer loss.
446 LlC I A. |-G. Fletcher, LL.D.
SONNET XLIII.
| RE those two stars, her eyes, my life's light, gone?
By which my soul was freeed from all dark :
And am I left distressed to live alone,
Where none my tears and mournful tale shall
mark ?
Ah, Sun ! why shine thy looks, thy looks like gold ;
When, horseman brave, thou risest in the East ?
Ah, CYNTHIA pale, to whom my griefs I told !
Why do you both rejoice both man and beast ?
And I alone, alone that dark possess
By LlCIA's absence, brighter than the Sun :
Whose smiling light did ease my sad distress,
And broke the clouds when tears like rain begun.
Heavens grant that light, and so me waking keep :
Or shut my eyes, and rock me fast asleep !
SONNET XLIV.
|RUEL fair Love ! I justly do complain
Of too much rigour, and thy heart unkind ;
That, for mine eyes, thou hast my body slain :
And would not grant that I should favour find.
I looked, fair Love ! and you my Love looked fair.
I sighed for love, and you for sport did smile.
Your smiles were such as did perfume the air ;
And this perfumed, did my heart beguile.
Thus I confess the fault was in mine eyes,
Begun with sighs, and ended with a flame.
I, for your love, did all the world despise ;
And in these Poems honoured have your name.
Then let your love so with my fault dispense,
That all my parts feel not mine eyes' offence.
<G. Fletcher, LL.D.H
I593-J
L i c i A. 447
SONNET XLV.
HERE shone a Comet, and it was full West.
My thought presaged what it did portend :
I found it threatened, to my heart unrest ;
And might, in time, my joys and comfort end.
I further sought, and found it was a Sun ;
Which day, nor night, did never use to set.
It constant stood, when heavens did restless run ;
And did their virtues and their forces let.
The World did muse, and wonder what it meant
A Sun to shine, and in the West to rise.
To search the truth, I strength and spirits spent.
At length I found it was my LlCIA's eyes.
Now, never after, soul shall live in dark,
That hath the hap, this western Sun to mark.
SONNET XLV I.
F he be dead in whom no heart remains,
Or lifeless be in whom no life is found ;
If he do pine, that never comfort gains ;
And be distressed that hath his deadly wound :
Then must I die, whose heart elsewhere is clad ;
And lifeless pass the greedy worms to feed :
Then must I pine, that never comfort had ;
And be distressed, whose wound with tears doth bleed.
Which if I do, why do I not wax cold ?
Why rest I not like one that wants a heart ?
Why move I still like him that life doth hold ;
And sense enjoy both of my joy and smart?
Like NlOBE Queen, which, made a stone, did weep :
LlCIA my heart, dead and alive, doth keep.
L I C I A. G- Fletcher'
SONNET XLVII.
IKE MEMNON'S rock, touched with the rising sun,
Which yields a sound, and echoes forth a voice :
But when it 's drowned in western seas is dumb ;
And drowsy-like, leaves off to make a noise.
So I, my Love, enlightened with your shine,
A Poet's skill within my soul I shroud ;
Not rude, like that which finer wits decline ;
But such as Muses, to the best allowed.
But when your figure and your shape is gone ;
I speechless am, like as I was before :
Or if I write, my verse is filled with moan ;
And blurred with tears, by falling in such store.
Then muse not, LICIA, if my Muse be slack :
For when I wrote, I did thy beauty lack.
SONNET XL VI 1 1.
SAW, sweet LlClA, when the Spider ran
Within your house, to weave a worthless web ;
You present were, and feared her with your fan
So that, amazed, speedily she fled.
She, in your house, such sweet perfumes did smell ;
And heard the Muses with their notes refined :
Thus, filled with envy, could no longer dwell ;
But straight returned, and at your house repined.
" Then tell me, Spider, why of late I saw
Thee lose thy poison, and thy bowels gone ?
Did these enchant and keep thy limbs in awe,
And made thy forces to be small or none ?
No, no ! Thou didst, by chance, my LlClA see ;
Who, for her look, MINERVA seemed to be."
G. Fletcher, LLD.-j L I 0 I A. 449
SONNET XLIX.
F that I die, fair LlCIA, with disdain ;
Or heartless live, surprised with thy wrong :
The heavens and earth shall accent both my pain,
And curse the time so cruel and so long.
If you be kind, my Queen, as you are fair;
And aid my thoughts that still for conquest strive :
Then will I sing, and never more despair,
And praise your kindness whilst I am alive.
Till then I pay the tribute of my tears,
To move thy mercy and thy constant truth.
Respect, fair Love, how these with sorrow wear
The truest heart ; unless it find some ruth.
Then grace me, Sweet, and with thy favour raise me ;
So shall I live, and all the World shall praise thee.
SONNET L.
j' LlCIA sigh ! and say, Thou art my own.
Nay, Be my own ! as you full oft have said.
So shall your truth unto the World be known
And I, resolved ; where now I am afraid.
And if my tongue eternize can your praise,
Or silly speech increase your worthy fame ;
If aught I can, to heaven your worth can raise,
The Age to come shall wonder at the same.
In this respect, your love, sweet Love, I told ;
My faith and truth I vowed should be for ever.
You were the cause, if that I were too bold ;
Then pardon this my fault, or love me never
But if you frown, I wish that none believe me :
For, slain with sighs, I'll die before I'll grieve thee
ENG. CAR. VIII. 29
450 L / c i A. [G- FIetcher-
SONNET LI.
HEN first the Sun, whom all my senses serve,
Began to shine upon this earthly round ;
The heavens for her, all graces did reserve ;
That, PANDOR'-like, with all she might abound.
APOLLO placed his brightness in her eyes,
His skill presaging, and his music sweet.
MARS gave his force. All force she now defies.
VENUS, her smiles ; wherewith she MARS did meet
Python, a voice. DIANA made her chaste.
CERES gave plenty. CUPID lent his bow ;
THETIS, her feet. There PALLAS wisdom placed.
With these, she, Queen-like, kept a World in awe •
Yet all these honours deemed are but pelf :
For she is much more worthy, of herself.
SONNET LI I.
SUGARED talk ! wherewith my thoughts do live.
O brows ! Love's trophy, and my senses' shrine.
O charming smiles ! that death or life can give.
O heavenly kisses ! from a mouth divine.
O wreaths! too strong, and trammels made of hair!
O pearls ! enclosed in an ebon [ivory] pale.
O rose and lilies ! in a field most fair,
Where modest white doth make the red seem pale.
O voice ! whose accents live within my heart.
O heavenly hand ! that more than ATLAS holds.
O sighs perfumed ! that can release my smart.
O happy they ! whom in her arms she folds.
Now if you ask, Where dwelleth all this bliss ?
Seek out my Love ! and she will tell you this.
45
An Ode.
OvE, I repent me that I thought
My sighs and languish dearly bought :
For sighs and languish both did prove
That he that languished sighed for love.
Cruel rigour, foe to State,
Looks disdainful, fraught with hate,
I did blame : but had no cause
(Love hath eyes, but hath no laws).
She was sad, and could not choose
To see me sigh, and sit and muse.
We both did love, and both did doubt [fear]
Lest any should our love find out.
Our hearts did speak by sighs most hidden ;
This means was left : all else forbidden.
I did frown, her love to try
She did sigh, and straight did cry.
Both of us did signs believe
Yet either grieved friend to grieve.
I did look, and then did smile :
She left sighing all that while.
Both were glad to see that change ;
Things in love that are not strange.
Suspicion, foolish foe to Reason,
Caused me seek to find some treason
I did court another Dame.
(False in love, it is a shame !)
452 AN ODE. ['
She was sorry this to view,
Thinking faith was proved untrue.
Then she swore, She would not love
One, whom false She once did prove.
1 did vow I never meant
From promise made, for to relent.
The more I said, the worse she thought :
My oaths and vows were deemed as nought.
" False ! " She said, " how can it be,
To court another ; yet love me ?
Crowns and Love no partners brook :
If she be liked, I am forsook !
Farewell, False ! and love her still !
Your chance was good, but mine was ill.
No harm to you : but this I crave,
That your new Love may you deceive !
And jest with you, as you have done :
For light 's the love that 's quickly won."
" Kind and fair Sweet, once believe me I
Jest I did ; but not to grieve thee.
Court I did, but did not love.
Words, and sighs, and what I spent
In show to her ; to you were meant.
Fond [foolish^ I was, your love to cross
(Jesting love oft brings this loss).
Forget this fault ! and love your friend,
Which vows his truth unto the end ! "
" Content," She said, " if this you keep."
Thus both did kiss, and both did weep.
For women long they cannot chide :
As I, by proof, in this have tried.
G. Fletcher, LL.IX
1593-
453
Dialogue betwixt two Sea
Doxis and GALATEA^ concerning
POL YPHEMUS.
Briefly translated out of LUCIAN.
[See pages 125-128.]
HE Sea Nymphs late did play them on the
shore,
And smiled to see such sport was new
begun :
A strife in love, the like not heard before ;
Two Nymphs contend, Which had the
conquest won ?
DORIS the fair, with GALATE did chide.
She liked her choice, and to her taunts replied.
DORIS.
Thy Love, fair Nymph ! that courts thee on this plain,
As shepherds say, and all the World can tell,
Is that foul rude Sicilian CYCLOP-swain.
A shame, sweet Nymph, that he with thee should mell \inix\ \
GALATEA.
Smile not, fair DORIS ! though he foul do seem.
Let pass thy words that savour of disgrace !
He's worth my love, and so I him esteem.
Renowned by birth, and comes of NEPTUNE'S race.
NEPTUNE, that doth the glassy ocean tame ;
NEPTUNE, by birth from mighty JOVE which came.
LJ".
1593-
454 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN DORIS AND [G. Fletcher,
L-
DORIS.
I grant an honour to be NEPTUNE'S child ;
A grace to be so near with JOVE allied :
But yet, sweet Nymph ! with this be not beguiled ;
Where Nature's graces are by looks descried.
So foul, so rough, so ugly-like a Clown ;
And worse than this, a Monster with one eye.
Foul is not graced, though it wear a Crown !
But fair is Beauty. None can that deny.
GALATEA.
Nor is he foul, or shapeless, as you say
Or worse : for that he clownish seems to be.
Rough, Saytr-like, the better he will play :
And manly looks the fitter are for me.
His frowning smiles are graced by his beard :
His eye-light, sun-like, shrouded is in one.
This me contents ; and others makes afeard.
He sees enough, and therefore wanteth none, with one eye.
DORIS.
Nay, then I see, sweet Nymph : thou art in love ;
And loving, doat'st ; and doating, dost commend
Foul to be Fair. This oft do Lovers prove.
I wish him fairer, or thy love an end !
GALATEA.
DORIS, I love not : yet I hardly bear
Disgraceful terms, which you have spoke in scorn.
You are not loved : and that 's the cause I fear.
For why, my Love of JOVE himself was born.
Lucian.
GucFiecher, LL.D."] GALATEA CONCERNING POLYPHEMUS. 455
*593- J
Feeding his sheep of late, amidst this plain.
When as we Nymphs did sport us on the shore :
He scorned you all, my love for to obtain.
That grieved your hearts. I knew as much before.
Nay, smile not Nymphs ! The truth I only tell.
For few can brook that others should excel.
DORIS.
Should I envy that Blind did you that spite ;
Or that your shape doth please so foul a Groom ?
The Shepherd thought of milk. You looked so white.
The Clown did err, and foolish was his doom.
Your look was pale, and so his stomach fed :
But far from fair, where white doth want his red.
GALATEA.
Though pale my look ; yet he my love did crave :
And lovely You, un liked, unloved, I view.
It 's better far, one base, than none, to have.
Your fair is foul, to whom there's none will sue.
My Love doth tune his love unto his harp :
His shape is rude ; but yet his wit is sharp.
DORIS.
Leave off, sweet Nymph ! to grace a worthless Clown.
He itched with love ; and then did sing, or say.
The noise was such as all the Nymphs did frown,
And well suspected that some ass did bray.
The woods did chide, to hear this ugly sound :
The prating ECHO scorned for to repeat.
This grisly voice did fear the hollow ground,
Whilst Art-less fingers did his harp-strings beat.
456 DORIS AND GALATEA. f G. Fietcher,LLL.aD:
L 1593.
Two bear whelps in his arms this Monster bore :
With these new puppies did this Wanton play !
Their skins were rough ; but yet your loves were more.
He fouler was and far more fierce than they.
I cannot choose, sweet Nymph ! to think, but smile,
That some of us thou fearest, will thee beguile.
GALATEA.
Scorn not my Love ! until it can be known
That you have one that 's better, of your own.
DORIS.
I have no Love : nor, if I had, would boast :
Yet wooed have been by such as well might speed.
But him to love, the Shame of all the coast !
So ugly foul, as yet, I have no need.
Now thus we learn what foolish love can do ?
To think him fair, that 's foul and ugly too.
To hear this talk I sat behind an oak ;
And marked their words and penned them as they spoke.
Lector em ^ distichon
cujusdam de Autore.
Lascim quceres fuerit cur carminis Autor ,
Carmine lascivus, mente pudicus erat.
457
A Lover s Maze.
[It will be seen that Three of these Stanzas go together, rhyming in
their first words : True, True, New. — Sweet, Sweet, Meet, &c.]
TRUE are my thoughts : my thoughts that are untrue.
Blind are my eyes : my eyes that are not blind.
New is my love : my love that is not new.
Kind is that Fair : that Fair that is not kind.
Thus eyes and thoughts, that fairest Fair, my love ;
Blind and untrue, unkind, unconstant prove.
True are my thoughts : because they never flit.
Untrue my thoughts : because they me betrayed.
Blind are my eyes : because in clouds I sit.
Not blind my eyes : because I looks obeyed.
Thus eyes and thoughts, my dearest Fair, may view
In sight, in love, nor blind, nor yet untrue.
New is my love : because it never dies.
Old is my love : because it ever lives.
Kind is that Fair : because it hate denies.
Unkind that Fair : because no hope it gives.
Thus new my love, and still that Fair unkind,
Renews my love ; and I no favour find.
Sweet are my dreams : my dreams that are not sweet.
Long are the nights : the nights that are not long.
Meet are the pangs : these pangs that are unmeet.
Wronged is my heart : my heart that hath no wrong.
Thus dreams and night, my heart, my pangs, and all,
In taste, in length, conspire to work my fall.
453
A LOVER'S MAZE.
>G Fletcher, L.D.
1593-
Sweet are my dreams : because my Love they show.
Unsweet my dreams : because but dreams they are.
Long are the nights : because no help I know.
Meet are the nights : because they end my care.
Thus dreams and nights, wherein my Love takes sport,
Are sweet, unsweet ; are long, and yet too short
Meet are my pangs : because I was too bold.
Unmeet my pangs : because I loved so well.
Wronged was my heart : because my grief it told.
Not wronged. For why ? My grief it could not tell.
Thus you, my Love, unkindly cause this smart ;
That will not love to ease my pangs and heart.
Proud is her look : her look that is not proud.
Done all my days : my days that are not done.
Loud are my sighs : my sighs that are not loud.
Begun my death : my death not yet begun.
Thus looks and days, and sighs and death, might move
So kind, so fair, to give consent to love.
Proud is her look : because she scorns to see.
Not proud her look : for none dare say so much.
Done are my days : because they hapless be.
Not done my days : because I wish them such.
Thus looks and days increase this loving strife ;
Not proud, not done, nor dead, nor giving life.
Loud are my sighs : because they pierce the sky.
Not loud my sighs : because they are not heard.
My death begun : because I heartless cry.
But not begun : because I am debarred.
Thus sighs and death my heart no comfort give:
Both life deny, and both do make me live.
G. Fletcher, LL.D.J A LOVER'S MAZE. 459
Bold are her smiles : her smiles that are not bold.
Wise are. her words ; those words that are not wise.
Cold are her lips : those lips that are not cold.
Ice are those hands : those hands that are not ice.
Thus smiles and words, her lips, her hands, and She
Bold, wise, cold, ice, love's cruel torments, be.
Bold are her smiles : because they anger slay.
Not bold her smiles : because they blush so oft.
Wise are her words : because they wonders say.
Not wise her words : because they are not soft
Thus smiles and words, so cruel and so bold,
So blushing wise, my thoughts in prison hold.
Cold are her lips : because they breathe no heat.
Not cold her lips : because my heart they burn.
Ice are her hands : because the snow 's so great.
Not ice her hands : that all to ashes turn.
Thus lips and hands, cold ice, my sorrow bred ;
Hands, warm white snow; and lips, cold cherry red.
Small was her waist : the waist that was not small.
Gold was her hair : the hair that was not gold.
Tall was her shape : the shape that was not tall.
Folding the arms : the arms that did not fold.
Thus hair and shape, those folding arms and waist,
Did make me love ; and loving made me waste.
Small was her * waist: because I could it span.
Not small her waste: because she wasted all.
Gold was her hair : because a crown it wan.
Not gold her hair : because it was more pale.
Thus smallest * waist, the greatest waste doth [* spelt waste
i in the original
make ; edition— E.A.}
And finest hair, most fast a lover take.
460 A LOVER'S MAZE.
G. Fletcher, LL.D.
1593-
Tall was her shape : because she touched the sky.
Not tall her shape : because she comely was.
Folding her arms : because she hearts could tie,
Not folded arms : because all bands they pass.
Thus shape, and arms, with love my heart did fly ;
That hers I am, and must be till I die.
Sad was her joy : her joy that was not sad.
Short was her stay : her stay that was not short.
Glad was her speech : her speech that was not glad.
Sporting those toys : those toys that were not sport.
Thus was my heart, with joy, speech, toys, and stay,
Possessed with love ; and so stolen quite away.
Sad was her joy : because she did suspect.
Not sad her joy : because her joy she had.
Short was her stay : because to small effect.
Long was her stay : because I was so sad.
Thus joy and stay both crossed a lover's sport ;
The one was sad, the other too too short.
Glad was her speech : because she spake her mind.
Not glad her speech : because afraid to speak.
Sporting her toys : because my love was kind.
Not toys in sport : because my heart they break.
Thus speech and toys my love began in jest :
Sweet, yield to love ! and make thy servant blest !
Tread you the Maze, sweet Love, that I have run :
Mark but the steps, which -I imprinted have.
End but your love, whereas my thoughts begun :
So shall I joy, and you a Servant have.
If not, sweet Love, then this my suit deny:
So shall you live, and so your Servant die.
46 1
An Elegy*
fOWN m a bed, and on a bed of down ;
LOVE, She, and I to sleep together lay.
She, like a wanton, kissed me with a frown,
" Sleep, sleep!" she said ; but meant to steal away.
I could not choose but kiss, but wake, but smile,
To see how She thought us two to beguile.
She feigned a sleep. I waked her with a kiss.
A kiss to me she gave, to make me sleep.
" If I did wrong, sweet Love, my fault was this ;
In that I did not you thus waking keep.
Then kiss me, Sweet ! that so I sleep may take ;
Or let me kiss, to keep you still awake ! "
The night drew on, and needs she must be gone.
She waked LOVE, and bid him learn to wait.
She sighed, She said, to leave me there alone :
And bid LOVE stay ; but practise no deceit.
LOVE wept for grief, and sighing made great moan:
And could not sleep, nor stay, if she were gone.
" Then stay, sweet Love !" A kiss with that I gave.
She could not stay ; but gave my kiss again.
A kiss was all that I could get or crave :
And, with a kiss, She bound me to remain.
" A' LiciA ! " still I in my dreams did cry,
" Come, LiciA, come ! or else my heart will die."
462
ELEGIES.
~G. Fletcher, LL.D.
ELEGY II.
JISTANCE of place, my Love and me did part ;
Yet both did swear, We never would remove!
In sign thereof, I bade her take my heart ;
Which did, and doth, and cannot choose but,
love.
Thus did we part, in hope to meet again ;
Where both did vow most constant to remain.
-2. A she there was that passed betwixt us both ;
By whom each knew how other's cause did fare :
For men to trust men in their love are loath.
Thus had we both of love a Lover's care.
Haply he seeks his sorrows to renew,
That for his love, doth make another sue.
3. By her a kiss, a kiss to me She sent ;
A kiss for price more worth than purest gold.
She gave it her. To me the kiss was meant.
A she to kiss : what harm if she were bold ?
Happy those lips, that had so sweet a kiss !
For heaven itself scarce yields so sweet a bliss.
4. This modest she, blushing for shame of this,
Or loath to part from that she liked so well,
Did play false play ; and gave me not the kiss :
Yet my Love's kindness could not choose but tell.
Then blame me not, that kissing, sighed and swore,
" I kissed but her, whom you had kissed before!"
5. " Sweet, love me more ! and blame me not, sweet Love !
I kissed those lips : yet, harmless, I do vow :
Scarce would my lips from off those lips remove ;
For still, methought, sweet Fair, I kissed you.
And thus kind love, the sun of all my bliss,
Was both begun, and ended, in a kiss.
, Fletcher, LL.D.- ELEGIES.
6. " Then send me more ; but send them by ydur friend
Kiss none but her ! nor her, nor none at all.
Beware by whom such treasures you do send !
I must them lose, except I for them call.
And love me, Dear ! and still still kissing be !
Both like and love but none, sweet Love ! but me !
ELEGY III.
F sad Complaint would shew a Lover's pain ;
Or Tears express the torments of my heart :
If melting Sighs would ruth and pity gain ;
Or true Laments but ease a Lover's smart :
2. Then should my Plaints the thunder's noise surmount ;
And Tears, like seas, should flow from out my eyes.
Then Sighs, like air, should far exceed all count ;
And true Laments with sorrow dim the skies.
3. But Plaints arid Tears, Laments and Sighs I spend :
Yet greater torments do my heart destroy.
I could all these from out my heart still send ;
If, after these, I might my Love enjoy.
4. But heavens conspire; and heavens I must obey:
That seeking love, I still must want my ease.
For greatest joys are tempered with delay:
Things soon obtained do least of all us please.
5. My thoughts repine, and think the time too long.
My love impatient wisheth to obtain.
I blame the heavens, that do me all this wrong :
To make me loved ; and will not ease my pain.
464 ELEGIES. [G- Fletcher'
6. No pain like this, to love and not enjoy.
No grief like this, to mourn and not be heard.
No time so long as that which breeds annoy.
No hell like this, to love and be deferred.
7. But heaven shall stand, and earth inconstant fly ;
The sun shall freeze, and ice inconstant burn ;
The mountains flow, and all the earth be dry :
Ere time shall force my loving thoughts to turn.
8. " Do you resolve, sweet Love ! to do the same :
Say that you do, and seal it with a kiss !
Then shall our truths [troths] the heavens' unkindness-
blame ;
That cannot hurt, yet shew their spite in this.
9. " The silly Prentice, bound for many years,
Doth hope that time his service will release ;
The town besieged, that lives in midst of fears,
Doth hope in time the cruel v/ars will cease ;
10. " The toiling Ploughman sings in hope to reap ;
The tossed bark expecteth for a shore ;
The boy at school to be at play doth leap,
And straight forgets the fear he had before :
11. " If those, by hope, do joy in their distress ;
And constant are, in hope to conquer time :
Then let not hope in us, sweet Friend ! be less ;
And cause our love to wither in the prime.
" Let us conspire, and time will have an end ;
So both of us in time shall have a friend."
FINIS.
465
The losing to the Crown of
RICHARD the "Third.
Written by himself.
HE Stage is set, for Stately matter fit :
Three Parts are passed, which Prince-like
acted were.
To play the Fourth requires a Kingly wit ;
Else shall my Muse, their Muses not
come near.
Sorrow sit down, and help my Muse to sing :
For weep he may not, that was called a King.
" SHORE'S Wife, a subject though a Princesse mate,*
Had little cause her fortune to lament :
Her birth was mean, and yet she lived with State.
The King was dead before her honour went.
SHORE'S wife might fall, and none can justly wonder
To see her fall that useth to lie under.
" ROSAMOND was fair, and far more fair than she :
Her fall was great, and but a woman's fall.
Trifles are these. Compare them but with me 1
My fortunes far, were higher than they all.
I left this land, possessed with civil strife !
And lost a Crown ! mine honour ! and my life !
* ? •-= Prince's mate, or Princess made. — E. A.
ENG. GAR. VIII. 3O
466 THE RISING TO THE CROWN [G>
" ELSTRED I pity, for she was a Queen :
But for myself, to sigh I sorrow want.
Her fall was great ; but greater falls have been.
Some falls they have, that use the Court to haunt.
A toy did happen, and this Queen dismayed :
But yet I see not why she was afraid.
" Fortune and I, for so the match began,
Two games we played at Tennis for a Crown.
I played right well, and so the First I wan :
She scorned the loss, whereat she straight did frown
We played again : and then I caught my fall.
England, the Court ; and RICHARD was the ball.
" Nor weep I now, as children that have lost :
But smile to see the Poets of this Age,
Like silly boats in shallow rivers tost,
Losing their pains, and lacking still their wage,
To write of Women, and of Women's falls ;
Who are too light for to be Fortune's balls.
" A King I was, and RICHARD was my name ;
Born to a Crown when first my life began.
My thoughts ambitious, ventured for the same ;
And from my nephews I the Kingdom wan.
Nor do I think that this my honour stained :
A Crown I sought, and I a Kingdom gained.
" Time-tyrant Fate did fit me for a Crown.
My father's fall did teach me to aspire.
He meant, by force, his brother to put down ;
That so himself might hap to rise the higher.
And what he lost by fortune, I have won :
A Duke, the father : yet a King, the son.
Fletcher>
G. Fletcher, LL.D.-J OF RICI1ARD THE THIRD. 467
" My father, RICHARD Duke of YORK was called :
Three sons he had, all matchless at that time.
I, RICHARD, youngest to them both was thralled ;
Yet two of us unto the Crown did climb.
EDWARD, and I, this realm as Kings did hold -.
But GEORGE of CLARENCE could not, though he would.
" Sad Muse ! set down, in terms not heard before,
My sable fortune, and my mournful tale.
Say what thou canst ! and wish thou couldst say more !
My bliss was great ; but greater was my bale.
I rose with speed : and so did fall as fast.
Great was my glory ; but it would not last
"" My brother GEORGE did plot for to be King.
Sparks of ambition did possess us all.
His thoughts were wise ; but did not profit bring.
J feared his Rising, and did make him fall.
My reaching brain did doubt what might ensue.
I scorned his life, and so he found it true.
" My brother GEORGE, men say, was slain by me
A brother's part to give his brother wine ;
And for a Crown, I would his butcher be !
(From [?] Crowns with blood, the brighter they will shine)
To gain a kingdom, still it me behoved
That all my lets [hindrances] full soundly were removed.
"HENRY the Sixth, deprived of his Crown,
Fame doth report, I put him to the death.
Thus Fortune smiled, though after she did frown
A dagger's stab, men say, did stop his breath.
I careless was, both how, or who, were slain ;
So that thereby a Kingdom I could gain
468 THE RISING TO THE CROWN [G- Fletcher-
" Clusters of grapes full ripened with the heat,
Nor smaller timber builded on a height,
Fall not so fast as persons that are great :
Losing their honours, bruised with their weight.
But fewer means, the faster I did rise !
And to be King, I Fortune did despise.
" My thoughts, ambitious spread, began to fly :
And I, a Crown did follow with full wing.
My hope was small ; but yet I meant to try.
I had no right : yet longed to be a King.
Fear, or Suspect, amazed me not at all :
If I were crossed, the worst was but to fall.
* The lion fierce, despoiled of his prey,
Runs not with speed so fast as did my thought.
My doubtful mind forbade me long to stay :
For why, a Kingdom was the thing I sought.
Now was the time when this was to be done ;
Or blame my thoughts, because they it begun.
" My brother died, and left two sons behind ;
Both under age, unfit to guide the land :
This right fell out according to my mind ;
For now these two were ruled with my hand.
' England's great Lord,' the subjects did me call ;
And I was made Protector over all.
" But as the wolf defends the harmless sheep :
Whose bloody mouth can hardly be content
Until he spoil what he was set to keep ;
And silly \innocent\ sheep be all to pieces rent.
So still a Crown did hammer in my head :
Full of mistrust, till both these two were dead.
G. Fletcher, LL.D.J QF RICHARD TH£ THIRD. 469
" The elder son with speed to London came ;
And walls forsook where he had lived before.
London, the place of greatest strength and fame ;
The island's treasure ; and the English store.
For him, Lord RIVERS was appointed guide :
The King's own uncle by his mother's side.
" RIVERS was wise ; but him I could not brook.
I well foresaw what harm there might ensue :
This to prevent, with speed I counsel took ;
And, as I thought, so did I find it true.
For if that RIVERS should obtain his mind ;
My heart's desire, then hardly could I find.
RIVERS and GREY, of treason I accused :
And told the Prince what both they did intend.
My tale was false, and I the King abused :
Thus both their lives unjustly did I end.
The King was young, and greater was the grief
And, needs, my words did urge him to belief.
•" Not long this past ; but hasting to the Queen.
A post was sent to shew what did befall ;
And who the Actors of this fact had been :
The Lord Protector was the cause of all.
The Queen amazed, did wonder at this news :
And scarce did think it ; yet she could not choose.
<( Possessed with fear : four daughters and her son,
She thence conveyed into a sacred place \sanctuar y\.
Supposing true, the harm but now begun ;
And that I thought to murder all her race.
She, York's Archbishop did entreat for aid ;
Who in the Abbey not far distant laid.
470 THE RISING TO THE CROWN [G- Fleteher> L
" The Bishop came, and mourning found the Queen ;
Who did lament the fortune of her son ;
The realm's distress, the like before not seen ;
Her own misfortune ; and the State undone.
Thus sighed the Queen, and wished her State were less ;
And prayed that heavens would give the King success.
" ' My Lord,' she said, ' my thoughts presage some ill ;
And mournful sorrow seizeth on my heart.
This sudden news with grief my soul doth fill ;
And I, for fear, do quake in every part.
In this distress, we cannot hope to live ;
Except this sacred place some safety give.'
" He then replied, ' Dread Sovereign, do not faint !
A causeless fear in wisdom do withstand !
Yield not too soon, with grief to make complaint ;
When no such cause approaching is at hand.
For feeble minds, through weakness, coin new fears ;
When stronger hearts, true grief more wisely bear*
" ' And if they crown some other, not your son ;
A thing unlike, yet fear what may befall !
Then shall the same unto this child be done ;
Whom brother's right, by due, a King shall call:
But tyrants* force will hardly be so bold ;
During the time the other is in hold.'
" Then more advised, he told her what he thought.
She and her son some causes had to fear ;
And England's Seal he therefore with him brought,
Which by his Place he customed was to bear.
Thus he resolved to leave the Seal behind,
Till wiser thoughts straight altered had his mind.
G. Fletcher, LL.D.-J QF RICHARD TRE THIRD.
" The Bishop home returned in all haste ;
And sadly sat, suspecting what might fall.
But then my coming made them all aghast ;
And for the Bishop I did straightway call.
I knew his deed, and blamed him to his face ;
And for the Seal, another had his Place.
" Thus tyrant hate possessed me for a Crown :
My mind, the anvil of a thousand harms.
I raised my friends : my foes I cast them down.
This made the subjects flock to me in swarms.
My will was strong, I made it for a law.
For basest minds are ruted best by awe.
" I called the Council ; and did straight persuade
From mother's side to fetch the other son.
My drift was further than they well could wade :
I gave them reasons why it must be done.
' The King a playmate wanted for his years ;
And could not well be fitted with his Peers.'
" The Card'nal went on message to the Queen ;
And used persuasions for her other child.
He plainly said, Her fear had causeless been ;
Nor need she doubt by me to be beguiled.
I was Protector, chosen by consent ;
With Council grave, all treason to prevent
" ' And I protest,' quoth Card'nal, * on my life !
(For so indeed the Card'nal did suppose).
Your son, with safety, shall cut off this strife ;
And you, nor place, nor land, nor son, shall lose.
Dread Sovereign, grant ! and let your son be free
If he hath harm ; then set the fault on me ! '
472 THE RISING TO THE CROWN [G- Fletcher>
" The Queen was moved ; and quaking did reply :
' A mother's love doth breed a mother's fear ;
And loath I am those mischiefs for to try,
With doubtful hazard of a thing so dear.
I doubt, my Lord, the nearest of his blood ;
In true intent scarce wisheth any good.
" ' The Laws do make my son his mother's Ward ;
Religion bids I should not slack my care ;
And Nature binds mine own for to regard :
These, and his health, good Lord, good reasons are
To make my fear no smaller than it is ;
Whilst fear persuades what harm may come of this.
" ' Yet take my son ; and with my son, take all !
Come, kiss me, son ! Thy mother's last farewell !
Thy years, sweet boy ! suspect not what may fall.
Nor can my tongue for tears thy fortune tell.
But hardly Crowns, their kindred will discern ;
As you, sweet child ! I fear yet long shall learn.
" ' GOD bless thee, son I and I, my son, thee bless !
Thy mother's comfort, and thy brother's life !
Nay, weep not, son ! GOD send thee good success
And safe defend thee from that tyrant's knife !
Card'nal farewell, be careful of my son !
For once I vowed, this never to have done.'
" I and the Council in Star Chamber were :
To whom the Card'nal did in haste resort,
Who brought the child, which ended all my fear.
The mother's care he briefly did report.
I kissed the child, and took it to my arm ;
Thus none did think I meant it any harm.
<J. Fletcher, LL.D.-J QF RICHARD THE THIRD. 473
'" Then as the wolf, half famished for his prey ;
Or hungry lion, that a lamb had got :
My thirsty mind, I meant his blood should stay ;
And yet the wisest not perceive my plot.
To the Tower in haste, I sent him to his brother :
And there, with speed, I both at once did smother.
" Now two there were but living, in my way ;
BUCKINGHAM and HASTINGS both, to cross my mind.
The one was 'headed straight without delay ;
The other, favours did unto me bind.
To match our children, I did him persuade ;
And Earl of HERTFORD, he himself be made.
Now as the sea, before the storm doth swell ;
Or fumes arise before we see the flame :
So whispering bruit began my drifts to tell ;
And all imparted unto babbling Fame.
I deemed it danger, speech for to despise ;
For, after this, I knew a storm would rise.
'" London's Lord Mayor, I used for my turn;
And caused him speak, what treason had been done.
I, by these means, the people's hearts did turn ;
And made them eye me as the Rising Sun.
Thus whilst I meant the island to bring under :
The people's heads on news I set to wonder.
Then, at the Cross, I caused a Doctor preach,
To tell the subjects what I wished them know.
The man was cunning, and had skill to teach :
Out of my brain I made his Sermon flow.
Thus everywhere I did such notice give,
As all did cry, ' Heavens, let King RICHARD live !
474 THE RISING TO THE CROWN [G-
Fletcher>
" So did I live, and called was a King.
Friends swarmed so fast as bees unto the hive.
Thus basest means, the highest fortunes bring.
The Crown obtained did cause my thoughts revive.
I scorned my friends ; and those did most despise
That were the means by which I did arise.
" Blood and Revenge did hammer in my head.
Unquiet thoughts did gallop in my brain.
I had no rest till all my friends were dead ;
Whose help I used, the Kingdom to obtain.
My dearest friend I thought not safe to trust :
Nor scarce myself; but that, perforce, I must.
0 Nor speak I now as if I did repent ;
Unless for this a Crown I bought so cheap.
For meaner things men, wits and lives have spent ;
Which blood have sown, and Crowns could never reap»
Live RICHARD long ! the honour of thy name :
And scorn all such as do thy fortune blame.
" Thus have I told, how I a Crown did win ;
Which now torments me that I cannot sleep.
Where I do end, my sorrow did begin ;
Because I got which long I could not keep.
My verse is harsh ; yet, Reader, do not frown !
I wore no garland ; but a golden Crown.
FINIS.
i. Fletcher, LL.D.-J QF RicHARD THE THIRD. 475
TO THE READER.
COURTEOUS Reader, for my own fault, I refer thee to my
Preface, but for the Printer's, I crave pardon. The excuse
is just, if thou knew the cause. I desire thee therefore to
correct the greater [faults], thus ; the lesser, of thyself ; and
to pardon all.
[The corrections have been embodied in the text. E. A.]
476
Sir ROBERT CAREY,
Lord Warden of the Middle Marches ;
and afterwards Earl of MONMOUTH.
Account of the Death of Queen ELIZABETH ; and of
his ride to King JAMES at Edinburgh,
2.$th-2.7th March 1603.
[Memoirs, pp. 135-156 ; written about 1627,
but first published by Lord CORK in 1759.]
N this state was this Middle March when
JAMES came in King of England : and in
all the time I continued Officer there, GOD
so blessed me and all the actions I took in
hand, that I never failed of any one enter
prise : but they were all effected to my
own desire and the good of that Govern
ment. Thus passed I forty-two of my
years; [? 1560-1602], GOD assisting with his blessing and
mighty protection.
After that all things were quieted and the Border in safety,
towards the end of five years [1598-1603] that I had been
Warden there ; having little to do, I resolved upon a journey
to Court, to see my friends and renew my acquaintance there.
t took my journey about the end of the year [which, accord
ing to the old reckoning, ended on the 2^th March : say then,
March 1603].
When I came to Court \at Richmond}, I found the Queen
ill disposed, and she kept her inner lodging.
Yet she, hearing of my arrival, sent for me.
I found her in one of her withdrawing chambers, sitting
low upon her cushions. She called me to her.
I kissed her hand, and told her, It was my chiefest happi-
sirR-?^y;] THE LAST WEEK OF ELIZABETH'S LIFE* 477
ness to see her in safety and health, which I wished might
long continue.
She took me by the hand, and wrung it hard ; and said
"No, ROBIN, I am not well!" and then discoursed with me
of her indisposition, and that her heart had been sad and
heavy for ten or twelve days: and, in her discourse, she
fetched not so few as forty or fifty great sighs.
I was grieved, at the first, to see her in this plight: for,
in all my lifetime before, I never knew her fetch a sigh, but
when the Queen of Scots was beheaded. Then [in 1587],
upon my knowledge, she shed many tears and sighs ; mani
festing her innocence that she never gave consent to the
death of that Queen.
1 used the best words I could to persuade her from this
melancholy humour ; but I found, by her, it was too deep
rooted in her heart ; and hardly to be removed.
This was upon a Saturday night [? \tyh March 1603] : and
she gave command that the Great Closet should be prepared
for her to go to Chapel the next morning.
The next day, all things being in a readiness ; we long
expected her coming.
After eleven o'clock, one of the Grooms [of the Chambers]
came out, and bade make ready for the Private Closet ; for
she would not go to the Great.
There we stayed long for her coming : but at last she had
cushions laid for her in the Privy Chamber, hard by the
Closet door ; and there she heard service.
From that day forwards, she grew worse and worse. She
remained upon her cushions four days and nights, [? Saturday
iQth to Tuesday 22nd March 1603] at the least. All about
her could not persuade her, either to take any sustenance,
or [to] go to bed.
I, hearing that neither her Physicians, nor none about her,
could persuade her to take any course for her safety, feared
her death would soon after ensue. I could not but think in
what a wretched estate I should be left : most of my liveli
hood depending on her life. And hereupon I bethought
myself with what grace and favour I was ever received by
the King of Scots, whensoever I was sent to him. I did
478 ELIZABETH DESIGNATES HER SUCCESSOR. [sir
R-
assure myself it was neither unjust, nor unhonest, for me to
do for myself; if GOD, at that time, should call her to his
mercy. Hereupon I wrote to the King of Scots, knowing
him to be the right heir to the Crown of England ; and
certified him in what state Her Majesty was. I desired him
not to stir from Edinburgh : and if, of that sickness she should
die, I would be the first man that should bring him news of it.
The Queen grew worse and worse, because she would be
so : none about her being able to persuade her to go to bed.
[The Earl of NOTTINGHAM] my Lord Admiral was sent for :
who (by reason of my sister [CATHARlNEJ's death, that was his
wife) had absented himself some fortnight from [the] Court.
What by fair means, what by force, he gat her to bed.
There was no hope of her recovery, because she refused all
remedies.
On Wednesday, the 23rd of March [1603], she grew speech
less. That afternoon, by signs, she called for her [Privy]
Council : and by putting her hand to her head, when the
King of Scots was named to succeed her, they all knew he
was the man she desired should reign after her.
About six at night, she made signs for [JOHN WHITGIFT]
the Archbishop, and her Chaplains to come to her. At
which time, I went in with them ; and sat upon my knees
full of tears to see that heavy sight.
Her Majesty lay upon her back ; with one hand in the
bed, and the other without.
The [Arch]bishop kneeled down by her, and examined
her first of her faith: and she so punctually answered all
his several questions by lifting up her eyes, and holding up
her hand, as it was a comfort to all beholders.
Then the good man told her plainly, What she was ; and
What she was to come to : and though she had been long a
great Queen here upon earth ; yet shortly she was to yield
an account of her stewardship to the King of Kings.
After this, he began to pray : and all that were by did
answer him. After he had continued long in prayer, till the
old man's knees were weary, he blessed her, and meant to
rise and leave her.
The Queen made a sign with her hand.
sir R' 7^27'.] QUEEN ELIZABETH DIES AT RICHMOND. 479
My sister [PHILADELPHIA, Lady] ScROOPE, knowing her
meaning, told the Bishop, The Queen desired he would pray
still.
He did so for a long half-hour after ; and then thought to
have left her.
The second time she made sign to have him continue in
prayer.
He did so for half an hour more, with earnest cries to GOD
for her soul's health ; which he uttered with that fervency of
spirit as the Queen, to all our sight, much rejoiced thereat :
and gave testimony to us all, of her Christian and comfort
able end.
By this time, it grew late ; and every one departed : all
but her Women that attended her.
This that I heard with my ears, and did see with my eyes,
I thought it my duty to set down, and to affirm it for a
truth upon the faith of a Christian ; because I know there
Tiave been many false lies reported of the end and death of
that good Lady.
I went to my lodging, and left word with one in the
Cofferer's Chamber to call me, if that night it was thought
she would die ; and gave the Porter an angel [los. = £2 now\
to let me in at any time, when I called.
Between one and two of the clock on Thursday morning
[25th March 1603], he that I left in the Cofferer's Chamber,
brought me word, " The Queen was dead."
I rose, and made all haste to the Gate [of Richmond Palace],
to get in.
There I was answered, I could not enter : the Lords of
the [Privy] Council having been with him [the Porter] and
commanded him that none should go in or out, but by War
rant from them.
At the very instant, one of the Council [Sir EDWARD
WoTTONyafterzvards Lord WOTTON ; see page 526] the Comp
troller [of the Household] asked, Whether I was at the Gate?
1 said, " Yes."
He said, If I pleased, he would let me in.
I desired to know how the Queen was.
480 THE COUNCIL REMOVE TO WHITEHALL, p***?^;
He answered, " Pretty well."
I bade him " Good Night ! "
He replied and said, " Sir, if you will come in ; I will give
you my word and credit you shall go out again at your own
pleasure."
Upon his word, I entered the Gate, and came up to the
Cofferer's Chamber : where I found all the Ladies weeping
bitterly.
He \the Comptroller] led me from thence to the Privy
Chamber ; where all the [Privy] Council was assembled.
There I was caught hold of; and assured 1 should not go
for Scotland till their pleasures were further known.
I told them, " I came of purpose, to that end."
From thence, they all went to [Sir ROBERT CECIL] the
Secretary's Chamber : and, as they went, they gave a special
command to the Porters, that none should go out at the
Gates but such servants as they should send to prepare their
coaches and horses for London.
Thus was I left, in the midst of the Court, to think my
own thoughts till they had done counsel. I went to
[GEORGE, Lord HUNSDON] my brother's chamber : who was
in bed, having been over-watched many nights before.
I got him up with all speed ; and when the [Privy]
Council's men were going out of the Gate, my brother thrust
to the Gate.
The Porter, knowing him to be a Great Officer, let him
out. I pressed after him, and was stayed by the Porter.
My brother said angrily to the Porter, " Let him out, I
will answer for him ! " Whereupon I was suffered to pass :
which I was not a little glad of.
I got to horse, and rode to the Knight Marshal's Lodging
by Charing Cross ; and there stayed till the Lords [of the
Privy Council] came to Whitehall Garden.
I stayed there till it was nine a clock in the morning ;
and hearing that all the Lords were in the Old Orchard at
Whitehall, I sent the [Knight] Marshal to tell them, That I
had stayed all that while, to know their pleasures ; and that I
would attend them, if they would command me any service.
They were very glad when they heard I was not gone :
sir R' ?i6^J SIR R. CAREY'S RIDE TO EDINBURGH. 481
and desired the [Knight] Marshal to send for me; and I
should, with all speed, be despatched for Scotland.
The [Knight] Marshal believed them ; and sent Sir
ARTHUR SAVAGE for me.
I made haste to them.
One of the [Privy] Council, [Sir WILLIAM KNOLLYS] my
Lord of [BANBURY] that now is [see page 526], whispered
the [Knight] Marshal in the ear, and told him, If I came ;
they would stay me, and send some other in my stead.
The [Knight] Marshal got from them ; and met me
coming to them, between the two Gates. He bade me, Be
gone ! for he had learned, for certain, that if I came to them,
they would betray me.
I returned, and took horse between nine and ten a clock ;
and [by] that night rode to Doncaster [162 miles from Lon
don ; and 235 miles from Edinburgh'}.
The Friday night [the 26th], I came to my own house at
Widdrington [298 miles from London ; and 99 miles from
Edinburgh'} ; and presently took order with my Deputies [of
the Middle Marches, HENRY WIDDRINGTON and WILLIAM
FENWICK ; see page 499] to see the Borders kept in quiet ;
which they had much to do : and gave order [that], the next
morning, the King of Scotland should be proclaimed King
of England [at Widdrington] ; and at Morpeth [289 miles
from London] and Alnwick [306 miles from London].
Very early, on Saturday [27th March 1603], I took horse
[at Widdrington] for Edinburgh ; and came to Norham
{331 miles from London, 8 miles Soutk of Berwick, and 66
miles from Edinburgh\ about twelve at noon. So that I
might well have been with the King at supper time : but I
got a great fall by the way \i.e. after leaving Norham~\ ; and
my horse, with one of his heels, gave me a great blow on the
head, that made me shed much blood. It made me so weak,
that I was forced to ride a soft pace after : so that the King
was newly gone to bed by the time I knocked at the gate
[of Holyrood House, Edinburgh].
I was quickly let in ; and carried up to the King's Chamber.
ENG. GAR. VIII. -3 j
482 SIR R. CAREY SALUTES JAMES I. AS KING. [S!rR'?^;
I kneeled by him, and saluted him by his title of " England,
Scotland, France, and Ireland."
He gave me his hand to kiss ; and bade me welcome.
After he had long discoursed of the manner of the Queen's
sickness, and of her death ; he asked, What letters I had
from the [Privy] Council ?
I told him, " None" : and acquainted him how narrowly I
[had] escaped from them. And yet I brought him a blue
ring from a Lady,* that I hoped would give him assurance
of the truth that I had reported.
He took it, and looked upon it, and said, " It is enough.
I know by this, you are a true messenger."
Then he committed me to the charge of my Lord
HOME ; and gave straight command that I should want
nothing.
He sent for his Chirurgions to attend me ; and when I
kissed his hand, at my departure, he said to me these graci
ous words :
" I know you have lost a near kinswoman and a loving
Mistress : but take here my hand, I will be as good a Master
to you ; and will requite you this service with honour and
reward."
So I left him that night, and went with my Lord HOME
to my lodging : where I had all things fitting for so weary
a man as I was. After my head was dressed, I took leave
of my Lord and many others that attended me ; and went
to my rest.
* The account of the blue ring which Lady ELIZABETH SPELMAN
gave to Lord CORKE was this :— •
King JAMES kept a constant and private correspondence with several
persons of the English Court, during many years before Queen ELIZA
BETH died. Among them was [PHILADELPHIA] Lady SCROOPE [see
page 478], sister of Sir ROBERT CAREY : to whom His Majesty sent, by
Sir JAMES FULLERTON, a sapphire ring ; with positive orders to re
turn it to him, by a special messenger, as soon as the Queen was
actually expired.
Lady SCROOPE had no opportunity of delivering it to her brother Sir
ROBERT, whilst he was in the Palace of Richmond ; but waiting at the
window till she saw him at the outside of the Gate [see page 480], she
threw it out to him ; and he well knew to what purpose he received it.
S.E.B. [Sir S. E. BRYDGES.] Memoirs of the Peers of England
during the reign of JAMES /., p. 413. Ed. 1802. 8vo.
SIrR'?i6e27'] MADE A GENTLEMAN OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 483
The next morning [Sunday, 28th March 1603], by ten
a clock, my Lord HOME was sent to me from the King, to
know how I had rested : and withal said, That His Majesty
commanded him to know of me, What it was that I desired
most that he should do for me ? [and] bade me, Ask, and it-
should be granted.
I desired my Lord to say to His Majesty from me, That
I had no reason to importune him for any suit ; for that I
had not, as yet, done him any service : but my humble
request to His Majesty was to admit me a Gentleman of
his Bedchamber ; and hereafter, I knew, if His Majesty saw
me worthy, I should not want to taste of his bounty.
My Lord returned this answer, That he {the King] sent me
word back, " with all his heart, I should have my request."
And the next time I came to Court, which was some four
days after [Thursday, 1st April 1603], at night, I was called
into his Bedchamber : and there, by my Lord [the Duke of
LENOX, afterwards Duke] of RICHMOND, in his presence, I
was sworn one of the Gentlemen of his Bedchamber ; and
presently I helped to take off his clothes, and stayed till he
was in bed.
After this, there came, daily, Gentlemen and Noblemen
from our Court ; and the King set down a fixed day [Tues
day, 5th April 1603] for his departure towards London.
Upon the report of the Queen's death, the East Border
broke forth into great unruliness ; insomuch as many com
plaints came to the King thereof. I was desirous to go to
appease them ; but I was so weak and ill of my head, that
I was not able to undertake such a journey [expedition'} : but
I offered that I would send my two Deputies, that should
appease the trouble and make them quiet ; which was by
them, shortly after, effected.
Now was I to begin a new World : for by the King's
coming to the crown, I was to lose the best part of my
living. For [with the death of the Queen] my Office of
Wardenry ceased ; and I lost the pay of 40 Horse : which
were not so little, both [of them] as ;£i,ooo per annum.
484 JAMES I. DECEIVES CAREY'S HOPES. [sir R- f?£*
Most of the Great Ones in Court envied my happiness,
when they heard I was sworn of the King's Bedchamber :
and in Scotland I had no acquaintance. I only relied on
GOD and the King. The one never left me: the other,
shortly after his coming to London, deceived my expecta
tion ; and adhered to those that sought my ruin.
The
True Narration
of the
Entertainment of His Royal Majesty, from
the time of his departure from
Edinburgh till his receiving
at London:
with all, or the most special, Occurrences.
TOGETHER WITH
The names of those Gentlemen whom
His Majesty honoured with Knighthood.
AT LONDON.
Printed by THOMAS CREEDE
for THOMAS MILLINGTON.
1603.
487
To the Reader.
FTER long travail to be informed of every
particular, as much as diligence might
prevail in ; this small Work of His
Majesty's Receiving and Royal Entertain
ment is brought forth : which, though it may seem
to have been too long deferred [This book was
entered at Stationers Hall on the qth May 1603,
ARBER, Transcript, etc. III., p. 234. It however
contains information up to the \%th of that month,
see page 518]; yet seeing nothing thereof hath been
public, no time can be too late to express so excellent
a matter. Wherein the dutiful love of many noble
subjects so manifestly appeared to our dread Lord
and Sovereign, and his royal thankfulness in
exchange for that which was indeed. but duty ; though
so adorned with munificent bounty, that most
Houses where His Highness rested were so furnished
by the owners with plenty of delights and delicates,
that there was discerned no negligence ; but if
there were any offence, the sin only appeared in
excess — as more at large you shall hereafter perceive ;
where the truth of everything is rather pointed at,
than stood upon.
488
To THE READER.
. T. M.
May 1603.
All diligence was used to get the names of those
Gentlemen that in sundry places received the honour
of Knighthood ; and what the Heralds have in
register are duly set down, both for name, time,
and place. If any be omitted ; let it please them
but to signify their names, and the House where
they received that honour : and there shall be
additions put to this impression ; or, at least, which
will be by order more fitly, placed in the next.
Many, I am sure, there are not missing : and only
in that point we are somewhat doubtful. The rest
is, from His Highness's departure from Edinburgh
[to] his coming to London, so exactly set down as
nothing can be added to it but superfluous words ;
which we have strived to avoid.
Thine,
T. M.
489
A Narration of the Progress and Entertainment
of the King's most excellent Majesty ,
•with the Qccurrents happening
in the same Journey.
HE eternal Majesty, in whose hand are
both the mean and mighty of the earth,
pleased to deliver from weakness of body
and grief of mind, ELIZABETH his Hand
Maid, our late royal Mistress and gracious
Sovereign : easing her age from the burthen
of earthly Kingdoms, and placing her,
as we steadfastly hope, in his heavenly
empire ; being the resting place, after death, for all them
that believe faithfully in their life.
Thursday, the 24th of March, some two hours after mid
night [i.e. 2$th March 1603], departed the spirit of that
great Princess from the prison of her weak body ; which
now sleeps in the Sepulchre of her grandfather \i.e. in
HENRY VII's Chapel in Westminster Abbey].
The Council of State and the Nobility (on whom the
care of all the country chiefly depended), immediately
assembling together, no doubt assisted with the Spirit
of Truth, considering the infallible right of our Sovereign
Lord, King JAMES, took such order that the news of the
Queen's death should no sooner be spread to deject the
hearts of the people ; but, at the instant, they should be
comforted with the Proclaiming of the King.
Being hereon determined, Sir ROBERT CAREY took his
journey in post towards Scotland, to signify to the King's
Majesty the sad tidings of his Royal Sister's death ; and
the joyful hearts of his subjects that expected no comfort
but in, and by, His Majesty's blessed Government.
This noble Gentleman's care was such that he intermitted
no time : but, notwithstanding his sundry shift[s] of horses
and some falls that bruised him very sore, he by the way,
proclaimed the King at Morpeth.
49O SIR R. CAREY ARRIVES AT EDINBURGH, [nay™:
And, on Saturday [26th March 1603], coming to Berwick,
acquainting his worthy brother, Sir JOHN CAREY, how all
things stood, posted on to Edinburgh ; where he attained
that night: having ridden near[ly] 400 miles in less than
three days.
But before we come there, you shall understand what
was instantly done at Berwick by Sir JOHN CAREY, upon
the news brought by Sir ROBERT his brother. Who, like
a worthy soldier and politic Statesman, considering it was
a town of great import and a place of war [Berwick was
the Portsmouth of England at this time, and bridled Scotland] ;
he caused all the garrison to be summoned together, as
also the Mayor, Aldermen, and Burgesses : in whose presence
he made a short and pithy Oration, including Her Majesty's
death, and signifying the intent of the State for submitting
to their lawful Lord.
And presently, with great contentment of all parties, His
Majesty was proclaimed King of England, Scotland,
France, etc. on Saturday, in the afternoon, being the
26th of March [1603], about three of the clock. Where
all the people, though they grieved for their late Queen ;
yet was grief suddenly turned to pleasure, in expectation
of their new King. But we will post from Berwick after
Sir ROBERT CAREY, and overtake him in Edinburgh.
You understood before, that Sir ROBERT came to Edin
burgh on Saturday night ; where, being admitted to the
King, be-blooded with great falls and bruises, [he] brought
His Highness the first news of Queen ELIZABETH'S death :
which howsoever it presented him with kingdoms, glory,
and immense wealth ; yet, like his royal self, he showed
apparent signs of princely sorrow. And dismissing Sir
ROBERT CAREY, after so great toil, to his repose: His
Majesty continued in his grief; and through that, expressed
his true piety.
It was thought necessary in so high affairs to let slip
no occasion, however sorrow particularly touched His
Majesty for the loss of his private friend and royal Sister ;
yet the general care as well of those his people in Scotland
Ma/i'fo^] BP. BOTIIWELL AS GOVERNOR OF BERWICK. 49 1
as for us in England, caused him on Sunday, being the 2/th
of March [1603], to despatch [JOHN BOTHWELL] the Bishop
of HOLYROODHOUSE to Berwick: that he might receive
the town to his use, as the nearest place wherein, by right,
he claimed possession.
Who accordingly, making all the speed he might, came
to Berwick ; where of the Governor he was honourably
entertained : and, after signifying His Majesty's pleasure,
reposed himself for that night.
On Monday, being the 28th of March, by sound of
trumpet, the Governor, Mayor, Officers, and Council of the
town were assembled at the Cross ; where there the Governor
,[Sir JOHN CAREY] surrendered to the Bishop of HOLYROOD--
HOUSE his staff and all his authority, unto the King's
Majesty's use. So likewise did the Mayor deliver up the
keys of the town.
And the said Bishop, being thus seised of all authority
to His Majesty's use, ministered the Oath of Allegiance
unto the Governor, Mayor, and the Superior Officers
belonging to the garrison and to the town.
Which oath taken, the Bishop of HOLYROODHOUSE
(expressing the gracious intention of His Majesty, as well
to them as all others his subjects of England whom he found
like them affected : which was rather to maintain, than to
infringe, their Charters ; to give, than to take from them
anything) redelivered the keys and staff of authority to the
Mayor and Governor. So likewise to every Commander,
Captain, Lieutenant, and whatsoever Office they had before
Her Majesty's death, there, in the King's name, he confirmed
them : to their great joy and contentment. Thus spent
the Lord of HOLYROODHOUSE the first part of Monday in
Berwick ; and dined with the Magistrates.
In the afternoon, the Lord Governor and his chief Officers
of place called together all the soldiers that were under pay ;
so did the Mayor and Aldermen convene all the communalty
of the town. To whom when the oath was read, and the
Magistrates had certified them that they had been their
example ; the Lord of HOLYROODHOUSE wondered at, and
much commended, their joy and readiness to be sworn
servants to so regal a Master. Which he amply discoursed
at his return to Edinburgh the next day ; not hiding any
49 2 JAMES I.'s FAREWELL SPEECH AT EDINBURGH. [M^™;
of their forward applauses, but delivered their willingness
to His Highness with express and lively words: assuring
him, by his entrance into England at that little door, how
welcome into the wide house His Excellence should be.
While this was a doing in Berwick, there drew to the
King hourly most of the Nobility in Scotland, with sundry
Knights and Gentlemen ; gratulating the great blessings
befallen His Highness, and attending his royal pleasure.
Besides, many numbers of Gentlemen came out of England
to salute His Majesty ; all [of] whom he graciously welcomed,,
and honoured one of them with the Order of Knighthood,*—
being Master JOHN PEYTON [co. Norf.], son to Sir JOHN
PEYTON, Lieutenant of the Tower of London. This being to
that noble Gentleman no little glory that he was first Knight —
yea, named by the King's Majesty " his first Knight "-
that was made by our Sovereign after he was nominated
and truly known to be the mightiest King in Europe.
During the continuance of His Majesty in Scotland, before
his Progress towards England, his whole care was for the
peaceable government of that Realm, from which he was a
while to part. And to that end, he had sundry conferences
with his Nobility, laying the safest projects that, in his wisdom
and their experiences, seemed likely for effecting his royal
desire : which, GOD willing, will come to pass to his great
liking and [the] benefit of both the Realms.
But that it might more to his people appear ; he in person
came graciously to the city of Edinburgh, unto the Public
Sermon. And after the Sermon was finished, in a most
learned but more loving Oration, he expressed his occasion
of leaving them, to the burgesses and a number of the people :
exhorting them to continue in obedience, being the bond
that binds Princes to affect their subjects, which broken
*As recorded in this Narrative, JAMES I. made 303 Knights during
his Progress to London ; and, in all, 2323 during his reign in England.
The spelling of their names is given here according to J. P. [JOHN
PHILIPOT], Somerset Herald, his A perfect Collection of all Knight
Bachelors made by King JAMES, &c. London. 1660. Svo. From which
authority also, their Counties are here inserted between square brackets.
Names in PHILIPOT, and not in this text, are also inserted in square
brackets. E. A.
IS PROCLAIMED KlNG OF ENGLAND, &C. 493
-on their part he trusted should never be, and of his they were
assured ; persuading them also to agreement amongst them
selves, being the bond of charity that tied all men, especially
Christians, to love and bear with one another. In which
obedience to him, and agreement amongst themselves if
they continued : howsoever he was, in a manner, at that time,
constrained to leave them ; yet he would, in his own person,
visit them, and that shortly, in times convenient and most
necessary for his own advancement and their benefit.
Yet for all his kingly oratory, mild behaviour, and true
intention ; the people's hearts against his departure were
even dead : and grief seized every private man's reins, saving
only those that were made happy by attending his royal
person into England.
For now they began duly to think upon his unmatched
virtues, which never the most malicious enemy could impeach :
being in the World's eye innocent of any capital and
notorious crime, but such as may be incident to any just
man ; who daily falls, but never falls away. They now
considered his affability, mercy, justice, and magnanimity.
They remembered how, in late years, Scotland, by his
government, had increased in more riches than in the time
of many [of] his predecessors : besides, his care for establish
ing true religion, his traffic almost with all nations, the
royalty of his marriage, the blessings hoped for by his issue.
And such a universal sorrow was amongst them, that
some of the meaner sort spake even distractedly ; and
[there were] none but, at his departing (which yet we are
not come unto), expressed such sorrow as in that nation
hath seldom been seen the like : albeit the King's Majesty
was possessed of that which the common sort of the nation
long wished for ; I mean, the Kingdom [of England].
The 3ist of March [1603], being Thursday, His Majesty,
with great solemnity and pomp, was proclaimed King of
England, Scotland, France and Ireland, at the Market
Cross of Edinburgh, in presence of the whole Officers of
Estate of the Realm, and many of the Nobility of Scotland,
and sundry Knights and Gentlemen of England.
And in the evening of that day, there were many
hundreds of bonfires made all about the city ; with great
494 JAMES I. SETS FORTH FROM EDINBURGH. [MayTi6o3.
feasting and merriment held till the appearing of the next
day.
But as joyful as they were of His Majesty's great
advancement, and enlarging of his Empire ; so were they,
as I before noted, for their private want of him no less
filled with grief as, above all other times, was most
apparently expressed at his departure from Edinburgh
towards England : the cries of [the] poor people being
so lamentable and confused that it moved His Majesty
to much compassion ; yet seeing their clamours were only
of affection and not grounded on reason, with many gracious
and loving words he left them, and proceeded on his Progress.
It was the 5th of April, being Tuesday, that His Majesty
departed from Edinburgh, gallantly accompanied with
multitudes of his Nobility, Lords, Barons, and Gentlemen of
Scotland ; and some French, as the French Ambassor,
being Leger \? resident] in Scotland, whose wife was carried
betwixt Edinburgh and London by eight pioneers or porters ;
one four to relieve the other four by turns, carrying her in a
chair with slings.
As also His Majesty, being accompanied with his own
attendants, as the Duke of LENOX, the Earl of ARGYLE,
the Earl of MURRAY, the Earl of CASSILLIS, the Earl of MAR,
the Lord HOME, the Lord OLIPHANT, and sundry others
too tedious in this place to be repeated ; for that several
their names shall hereafter be more particularly expressed.
Besides, there were in His Highness's train, many
numbers of gallant and well appointed English Knights and
Gentlemen : who attended His Majesty that day from
Edinburgh unto Dunglass, a House of the Lord HOME'S ;
where His Excellence reposed himself that night.
Wednesday, the 6th of April, His Majesty progressed
from Dunglass towards Berwick : having then attending on
him many more Noblemen Knights and Gentlemen ; besides
the Lords Wardens of the Borders of England and Scotland,
attended by the Borderers with several companies to receive
him. The Lord Governor of Berwick also, being accom
panied with all the Council of War, the Constables with
their Cornets of Horse, and divers of the Captains ; the
Ma
yTife£] HlS RECEPTION AT BERWICK. 495
Band of Gentlemen Pensioners [of Berwick] with divers
Gentlemen ; advanced forward to entertain and conduct His
Majesty into the town of Berwick.
Happy day, when peaceably so many warlike English Gen
tlemen went to bring in an English and Scottish King, both in
cluded in one person, into that town that, many a hundred
years, hath been a town of the enemy ; or at the least held,
in all leagues, either for one nation or the other. But the
King of Peace have glory, that so peaceably hath ordained
a King, descended from the royal blood of either nation, to
make that town, by his possessing it, a harbour for English
and Scots, without thought of wrong or grudging envy.
Not to digress longer, these gallants met him and were
graciously respected of His Highness ; so falling in among
the other Trophies, they set forward.
And when His Highness came within some half mile of
the town, and began to take view thereof; it suddenly
seemed like an enchanted Castle. For from the mouths of
dreadful engines (not long before full fed, by moderate arts-
men that knew how to stop and empty the brass and iron
paunches, of those roaring noises) came such a tempest as
dreadful, and sometimes more deathful, than thunder ; that
all the ground thereabout trembled as in an earthquake, the
houses and towers staggering : wrapping the whole town in
a mantle of smoke, wherein the same was a while hid from
the sight of his royal owner.
But nothing violent can be permanent. It was too hot to
last : and yet I have heard it credibly reported, that a better
Peal of Ordnance was never, in any soldier's memory (and
there are some [of] old King HARRY'S lads in Berwick, I
can tell you ! ) discharged in that place. Neither was it very
strange, for no man can remember Berwick honoured with
the approach of so powerful a Master.
Well, the King is now very near the gates : and as all
darkness flies before the face of the sun, so did these clouds
of smoke and gunpowder vanish at his gracious approach.
In the clearness of which fair time, issued out of the town
Master WILLIAM SELBY [co. Northumb.] Gentleman,
Porter of Berwick, with divers Gentlemen of good repute ;
and [he], humbling himself before the King's Majesty,
presented unto him the keys of all the ports \_gates\ — who
496 ADDRESS OF THE CORPORATION OF BERWICK. [May™:
received them graciously : and when His Highness was
entered betwixt the gates, he restored to the said Master
SELBY the keys again, and graced him with the honour of
Knighthood, for this his especial service ; in that he was the
first man that possessed His Excellence of those keys, Ber
wick indeed being the gate that opened into all his dominions.
This done, His Highness entered the second gate, and
being within both the walls he was received by the Captain
of the Ward : and so passed through a double Guard of
soldiers, well armed in all points ; but, with looks humble
and words cheerful, they gave His Majesty to know their
hearts witnessed that their arms were worn only to be used
in his royal service.
Between this Guard, His Majesty passed on to the Market
Cross, where the Mayor and his Brethren \the Aldermen\
received him with no small signs of joy, and such signs of
triumph as the brevity of time for preparation would admit.
But the common people seemed so overwrapt with his
presence, that they omitted nothing, their power and
capacities could attain unto, to express loyal duty and
hearty affection : kneeling, shouting, crying " Welcome ! "
and " GOD save King JAMES ! " till they were, in a manner,
entreated to be silent.
As soon as it pleased the people to give him leave that
he might speak, Master PARKINSON, the Recorder of
Berwick, being a man grave and reverend, made a brief
speech to His Majesty, acknowledging him [as] their sole
and Sovereign Lord. To whom, in the town's name, he
surrendered their Charter : presenting His Highness also
from them with a purse of gold ; which, as an offering of
their love, he graciously received. And for their Charter,
he answered them most benignly and royally, That it should
be continued : and that he would maintain their privileges,
and uphold them and their town in all equity ; by reason it
was the principal and first place honoured with his mighty
and most gracious person.
These ceremonies amongst the townsmen ended : as his
usual manner is after any journey, His Majesty passed to
the Church, there to humble himself before the Exalter of
the humble : and [to] thank him for the benefits bestowed
upon him and all his people. At which time preached be-
MayTi&!;] JAMES I. REVIEWS THE TROOPS AT BERWICK. 497
fore him, the Reverend Father in God, Doctor TOBY
MATTHEW, Bishop of DURHAM : who made a most learned
and worthy Sermon.
Which finished, the King departed to his Palace ; and then
they gave him a Peel of great Ordnance, more hot than
before : Berwick having never had King to rest within her
walls well nigh these hundred years.
The night was quickly overpassed especially with the
townsmen that, never in a night, thought themselves securer :
but the journey of the hours is always one, however they are
made short or long by the apprehension of joy, or [the]
sufferance of grief.
The morning's sun chased away the clouds of sleep from
every eye ; which the more willingly opened that they might
be comforted with the sight of their beloved Sovereign :
who, in his estate, attended upon by the Governor and the
Noblemen, together with the Magistrates and Officers of the
town, passed to the Church, where he stayed the Divine
Prayers and Sermon ; which when with his wonted humility
he had heard finished, in the like estate he returned to his
Palace.
This day, being Thursday the 7th of April, His Majesty
ascended the walls ; whereupon all the Cannoniers and
other Officers belonging to the great Ordnance stood, every
one in his place : the Captains with their Bands [Companies]
of soldiers likewise under their several Colours. Amongst
which warlike train, as His Majesty was very pleasant and
gracious ; so to shew instance how he loved and respected
the Art Military, he made a shot himself out of a cannon, so
fair, and with such sign of experience, that the most expert
Gunners there beheld it not without admiration : and there
were none, of judgement, present but, without flattery, gave
it just commendation.
Of no little estimation did the Gunners account them
selves after this kingly shot : but His Majesty, above all
virtues in temperance most excellent, left that part of the
wall, and their extraordinary applause.
Being attended by his Nobility both of Scotland and
England (the Lord HENRY HOWARD, brother to the late
Duke of NORFOLK ; and the Lord COBHAM, being then
ENG. GAR. VIII. 32
498 JAMES I. LEAVES BERWICK. [ifa/ieo*:
newly come to the town), and guarded by the Gentlemen
Pensioners of Berwick ; he bestowed this day in surveying of
the plots [plans] and fortifications, commending the manner
of the soldiers, and the military order of the town : being
indeed one of the best places of strength in all the north of
England. All which, when, with great liking, he had to his
kingly pleasure beheld ; he returned to his Palace, and there
reposed till the next day.
The 8th of April, being Friday, the trumpets warned for
the remove. And, all that morning, His Majesty, with
royal liberality, bestowed amongst the garrison soldiers,
and every Officer for war according to his place, so rich and
bounteous rewards that all soldiers, by his bountiful
beginning there, may be assured that they shall not, as they
have been, be curtailed of their duties \what is due to them]
by exacting Pollers ; but used as the servants and servitors
of a King : which very name, but more his largess, adds
double spirit to a man of war.
After dinner, His Highness mounted on horseback and
took leave of Berwick : where, near the bridge, he knighted
Master RALPH GREY [co. Northumb.]; a Gentleman of
great command and possession^] near the Borders.
As his Excellence left Berwick, and entered the Realm
of England, he was received by Master NICHOLAS FORSTER
[of Bamburgh Abbey], High Sheriff of Northumberland,
\whom he knighted at Widdrington\ : who, besides his own
servants and followers, was accompanied with a number of
gallant Gentlemen of the Shire ; who, riding before His
Majesty, led the way towards Widdrington, where His
Majesty intended to rest that night.
By the way, of his kingly goodness, and royal inclinations
to the honour of arms and reverence of virtuous age, he
vouchsafed to visit that worthy honourable soldier, Sir WIL
LIAM READ : who, being blind with age, was so comforted
with the presence and gracious speeches of the King, that
his spirits seemed so powerful within him, as he boasted
himself to feel the warmth of youth stir in his frost-
nipt blood. The way His Majesty had to ride, being long,
enforced him to stay with this good Knight the less while :
but that little time was so comfortable that his friends
RIDES TO WlDDRINGTON IN FOUR HOURS. 499
hope it will be a mean[s] to cherish the old Knight all his
life long.
Not to be longer writing this than His Highness was
riding the journey ; he departed thence upon the spur,
scarce any of his train being able to keep him company :
for being near[ly] 37 miles, he rode it all in less than four
hours. And, by the way, for a note, the miles, according
to the Northern phrase, are a wey-bit longer than they be
-here in the South.
Well, as long as the miles were, His Majesty made short
work, and attained [to] Widdrington [Castle] : where by
the Master of the Place, Sir ROBERT CAREY [Lord Warden
of the Middle Marches. He was afterwards made Earl of
MONMOUTH. See pages 476-484], and his right virtuous Lady,
lie was received with all due affection ; the House being
plentifully furnished for his entertainment. Besides for
situation and pleasure it stands very delightful.
His Majesty, having a little while reposed himself after
his great journey, found new occasion to travel further.
For, as he was delighting himself with the pleasure of the
Park, he suddenly beheld a number of deer near the place.
The game being so fair before him, he could not forbear ;
but, according to his wonted manner, forth he went, and
slew two of them.
Which done, he returned with a good appetite to the
House, where he was most royally feasted and banqueted
that night.
On Saturday the pth April [1603], His Majesty prepared
towards Newcastle-[on-Tyne]. But before his departure from
Widdrington ; he knighted Master HENRY WlDDRINGTON,
Master WILLIAM FENWICK, Master EDWARD GORGES
[all co. Northum.].
After which, taking his leave with royal courtesy,
he set forwards towards Newcastle ; being 16 miles from
Widdrington.
To pass the occurrents by the way, being not very
material ; when His Majesty drew near to Newcastle, the
Mayor, the Aldermen, Council, and best Commoners of
the same besides numbers of other people, in joyful manner
met him.
500 JAMES I. is THREE DAYS AT NEWCASTLE. [Ma^3:
The Mayor presented him with the Sword and Keys
with humble duty and submission : which His Highness
graciously accepting, he returned them again. He gave
also to His Majesty, in token of their love and hearty
loyalty, a purse full of gold. His Majesty gave them full
power and authority under him as they lately held in Her
Majesty's name : ratifying all customs and privileges that
they were possessed of, and had a long time held.
And so, passing on, he was conducted to the Mayor's
house, where he was richly entertained ; and remained-
there three days.
Upon Sunday, being the loth April [1603], His Majesty
went to the Church, before whom [Dr TOBY MATTHEW]
the Bishop of DURHAM preached. And that day, as it is
his most Christianlike custom, being spent in devotion :
he rested till Monday, which he bestowed in viewing the
town, the manner and beauty of the bridge [over the Tyne]
and key \quay\ : being one of the fairest in all the north
parts. Besides, he released all prisoners ; except those that
lay for treason, murder, and Papistry : giving great sums of
money for the release of many that were imprisoned for
debt ; who heartily praised GOD, and blessed His Majesty,
for their unexpected liberty.
So joyful were the townsmen of Newcastle of His
Majesty there being, that they thankfully bare all the
charge of his Household during the time of his abode with
them, being from Saturday till Wednesday morning. All
things were in such plenty and so delicate for variety
that it gave great contentment to His Majesty : and on
the townsmen's part, there was nothing but willingness
appeared ; save only at His Highness's departure, but
[of that] there was no remedy. He hath yet many of his
people by his presence to comfort : and forward no doubt
he will ; as he thence did, giving thanks to them for their
loyal and hearty affection.
And on the bridge, before he came at Gateside ; he made
Master ROBERT DUDLEY [ ? DELAVALE, co. Northumb.],
Mayor of Newcastle, Knight.
[JOHN PHILIPOT states that the following were also,
knighted at Newcastle on this I3th of April 1603 :
RECEPTION AT DURHAM. 5OI
. Sir CHRISTOPHER LOWTHER, co. Cumb.
Sir NICHOLAS CURWEN, co. Cumb.
Sir JAMES BELLINGHAM, co. Westm.
Sir NICHOLAS TUFTON, co. Kent ; afterwards Earl
of THANET.
Sir JOHN CONYERS, co. York.]
This Wednesday, being the I3th of April [1603], His
Majesty set forward towards Durham. And at Gateside,
near Newcastle ; he was met by the Sheriff of the County
and most of the Gentlemen in the same.
In his xvay, near Chester a Street, a little town betwixt
Newcastle and Durham, he turned on the left hand of the
road to view [Lumley Castle,] a pleasant castle of the Lord
LUMLEY'S : which being a goodly edifice of free stone, built
in quadrant manner, stands on the shoring of a hill, in the
middle of a green, with a river at the foot of it ; and woods
.about it on every side but to the town ward, which is, by the
river [Wear], divided from it.
After His Highness had a while delighted himself with
the pleasures of the place ; he returned on his way towards
Durham, being 6 miles from thence. Of which way he
seldom makes [a] long journey.
And when he came near ; the Magistrates of the city
met him ; and behaving themselves as others before them,
it was by His Highness as thankfully accepted. And
passing through the gates, whence His Excellence entered
the Market Place, there was an excellent oration made
unto him, containing in effect the universal joy conceived by
his subjects at his approach ; being of power to divert
from them so great a sorrow as had lately possessed them
all.
The oration ended, he passed towards the Bishop's House ;
where he was royally received : [Dr. TOBY MATTHEW] the
Bishop attending His Majesty with a hundred Gentlemen
in tawny liveries.
Of all his entertainment in particular at the Bishop's ;
:[of] his [the King's} merry and well seasoned jests, as well
there as in other parts of his journey ; all his words being of
full weight, and his jests filled with the salt of wit : yet so
facetious and pleasant as they were no less gracious and
502 JAMES I. AT WALWORTH AND TOPCLIFFE. [MayTi'6^
worthy of regard than the words of so royal a Majesty —
it is bootless to repeat them, they are so well known.
Thursday, being the I4th day [of April 1603], His
Majesty took leave of the Bishop of DURHAM : whom he
greatly graced and commended for his learning, humanity,
and gravity : promising to restore divers things taken
from the Bishopric ; which he hath accordingly in part
done, giving him already possession of Durham House in-
the Strand.
In brief, His Majesty left Durham, and removed towards-
[High] Wai worth [also called Wai worth Castle]; being 16
miles from Durham : where, by the Gentlewoman of the
House, named Mistress GENISON [or rather the Widow of
THOMAS JENISON], he was so bountifully entertained that
it gave His Excellence very high contentment.
And after his quiet repose there that night, and some part
of the next day ; he took his leave of the Gentlewoman, with
many thankful and princely congratulations for her extend
ing costs in the entertainment of him and his train.
Friday, being the I5th of April [1603], His Majesty set
forward from Mistress GENISON's of Walworth, towards
York. His train [was] still increasing by the numbers of
Noblemen and Gentlemen from the south parts, that came
to offer him fealty and to rejoice at his sight. Whose love,
although he greatly tendered; yet did their multitudes so
oppress the country and make provision [s] so dear that he
was fain to publish an Inhibition against the inordinate and
daily access of people's coming, that many were stopped or
their way ; and only those that had affairs suffered to have
access, some of great name and office being sent home, to
attend their places.
All this notwithstanding ; a number there were in His
Highness's train ; still increasing in every shire.
For now [Master HENRY BELLASSIS] the High Sheriff of
Yorkshire, gallantly accompanied, attended His Majesty to
Master [WILLIAM] INGLEBY'S \? at Baldersby Park~\ besides
Topcliffe, being about 16 miles from Walworth ; who with
great submission received His Majesty : and there he rested
for that night.
May™!] ^E ENTERS THE CITY OF YORK. 503
On Saturday, being the i6th of April [1603], His Majesty
removed from Master INGLEBY'S towards York, being 16
miles from Topcliffe.
And when he came about some 3 miles from York, the
Liberties of the City extending so far ; Master BuCKE and
Master ROBINSON Sheriffs of the City met him ; and, with
humble duty, presented him with their White Staffs :
which His Majesty receiving, he delivered them instantly
again [to them]. So they attended him towards the City.
Within a mile of which, when His Highness approached/
there met him [WILLIAM CECIL] the Lord BURLEGH, Lord
President of the North, with many worthy Knights and
Gentlemen of the shire. These also attended on his person
to York.
Where, when he came near unto the City, there met him
three of the Sergeants at Arms, late servants to the deceased
Queen : viz., Master WOOD, Master DAMFORT, and Master
WESTROP : who delivered up their maces ; which His
Majesty, with royal courtesy, redelivered to them ; com
manding them to wait on him in their old places, which
presently they did.
And, at the same time, the Sergeant Trumpeter, with
some others of his fellows, did in like manner submit them
selves, and render their service ; which he benignly accepted,
and commanded them in like manner to wait on him.
Then rode he on till he came to one of the gates of York ;
where [ROBERT WALTER] the Lord Mayor of the City, the
Aldermen, and the wealthiest Commoners, with abundance
of other people, met him.
There a long oration being made, the Lord Mayor
delivered the Sword and Keys to His Majesty, together with
a cup of gold, filled full of gold : which present His Majesty
gratefully accepted ; delivering the Keys again to the Lord
Mayor.
But about the bearing of the Sword, there was some con
tention ; the Lord President [of the North] taking it for his
place, the Lord Mayor of the city esteeming it his.
But to decide the doubt, the King's Majesty merrily
demanded If the Sword being his, they would not be pleased
that he should have the disposing thereof.
Whereunto when they humbly answered, It was all in his
504 THE STRUGGLE FOR THE SWORD AT YORK. [Ma>™:
pleasure ; His Highness delivered the Sword to one that
knew well how to use a sword, having been tried both at sea
and on shore, [GEORGE CLIFFORD] the thrice honoured Earl
of CUMBERLAND ; who bare it before His Majesty, riding in
great state from the gate to the Minster.
In which way, there was a conduit that, all the day long,
ran white, and claret, wine[s] ; every man to drink as much
as he listed.
From the Minster His Majesty went on foot to his own
House, being the Manor of St Mary's ; having all the way a
rich canopy over his head, supported by four Knights : and
being brought hither, he was honourable received by the
Lord BURLEGH ; who gave cheerful entertainment to all the
followers of His Majesty during the time of his continuance
in York.
The 1 7th day [of April 1603], being Sunday, His Majesty
passed towards York Minster ; being one of the goodliest
Minsters in all the land : England being as famous for
churches as any one kingdom in Europe, if they were kept
in reparations as that Minster is.
To this Minster, the King passed to hear the Sermon ; and
at the gate [i.e., of the Manor House] a coach was offered to
His Highness. But he graciously answered, " I will have no
coach. For the people are desirous to see a King, and so
they shall : for they shall as well see his body as his face."
So, to the great comfort of the people, he went on foot to
the Church ; and there heard the Sermon, which was
preached by [Dr JOHN THORNBOROUGH, Dean of York and
also] the Bishop of LIMERICK : whose doctrine and method
of teaching was highly by His Majesty commended. And
what his judgment is, is as extant to us all of any under
standing as the light of the clear mid-day, or sun, to every
perfect eye.
The Sermon ended, His Majesty returned afoot, in the
same sort as he came, to his Manor ; where he was royally
feasted.
This Sunday was a Seminary Priest apprended, who
before, under the title [appearance] of a Gentleman had
delivered a Petition to His Majesty, in the name of all the
English Catholics. When he was taken, His Highness had
T. M.l
"May 1603. J
KNIGHTS BACHELORS MADE AT YORK. 505
some conference with him : but, by reason of other great
affairs, he referred him to be further examined by the Bishop
of LIMERICK ; who, presenting the effects of his Examina
tion, the Priest was, the next day committed.
Dinner being ended, His Majesty walked into the garden
of the Palace; being a most delightful place: where there
awaited him a number of Gentlemen of great name and
worth ; whose commendations he received from honourable
persons, and beheld honour charactered in their faces. For
this is one especial note in His Majesty. Any man that hath
aught with him, let him be sure he have a just cause ! for he
beholds all men's faces with steadfastness, and commonly the
-look is the window for the heart.
Well, to that I should handle. Amongst these Gentlemen
it pleased His Majesty to make choice of these following ;
<whom he graced with the honour of Knighthood :
Sir WILLIAM CECIL
Sir EDMOND TRAFFORD
Sir THOMAS HOLCROFT
Sir JOHN MALLORY
Sir WILLIAM INGLEBY
Sir PHILIP CONSTABLE
Sir CHRISTOPHER HAWARD
Sir ROBERT SWIFT
Sir RICHARD WORTLEY
Sir HENRY BELLASSIS
Sir THOMAS FAIRFAX
Sir HENRY GRIFFITH
Sir FRANCIS BOYNTON
Sir HENRY CHOLMLEY
Sir RICHARD GARGRAVE
Sir MARMADUKE GRIMSTONE
.Sir LANCELOT ALFORD
Sir RALPH ILLERKER [or
ELIKER]
Sir GEORGE FREVILE
Sir MAUGER VAVASOR
Sir RALPH BABTHORPE
Sir RICHARD LONDER
Sir WALTER CRAPE
Lord BURLEGH].
co. Lane.]
co. Lane.]
co. York]
co. York]
co. Durh.]
co. York]
co. York
co. York
co. York^
co. York^
co. York
co. York
co. York
co. York
co. York
co York
]co. York]
co. Durh.]
"co. York]
o. York]
Lnot in J. PHILIPOT's"]
List.
506 JAMES I. JOURNEYS TO GRIMSTONE HALL. [May1^:
The same day, His Majesty caused five Gentlemen to be
sworn his servants, which served Queen Elizabeth before
time : whose names were Master RICHARD CONNIGSBY,
Master GEORGE POLLARD, Ushers, Daily Waiters ; Master
THOMAS ROLLES and Master HARIFFE, Gentlemen, Quarter
Waiters ; and Master RICHARD READ-HEAD, Gentleman
Sewer in Ordinary of His Majesty's Chamber.
This day likewise, the Mayor of Kingston upon Hull
delivered to His Majesty a petition, which was also sub
scribed and justified by divers Aldermen of the said town,
to be done in the behalf of all the poor inhabitants : who,
with one voice, besought His Majesty that they might be
relieved and succoured against the daily spoils done to them
by those of Dunkirk, that had long molested them and
others the English coastmen.
His Highness, as he is naturally inclined to much pity, so
at that time he seemed to have great compassion of their
wrongs and afflictions ; which were not hidden from him,
though they had been silent : but he comforted them with
his princely and heroic reply, That he would defend them ;
and no Dunkirker should after dare to do any of his subjects
wrong.
In which assurance they departed : and, no doubt, shall
find the effect of his kingly promise.
I told you before, what bounty the Lord BURLEGH used
during the continuauce of the King's Majesty in the Manor
[of St Mary's at York] : but it was indeed exceeding all the
rest in any place of England before. Butteries, Pantries,
and Cellars [being] always held open in great abundance, for
all comers.
Monday, being the i8th day [of April 1603], His Majesty
was feasted by the Lord Mayor of York, whom he knighted
by the name of Sir ROBERT WALTER [co. York] : at whose
house there was such plenty of all delicates [delicacies] as
could be possibly devised.
After dinner, His Majesty, following the rule of mercy he
had begun with, commanded all the prisoners to be set at
liberty, except Papists and wilful murderers.
Which deed of charity effected, he left York, and rode to
Grimstone [Hall], being a house of Sir EDWARD STANHOPE'S \
T. M.n
May 1603. J
KNIGHTS MADE AT GRIMSTONE HALL. 507
where he lay that night, and dined the next day : His
Majesty and all his train having their most bountiful enter
tainment ; all the Offices in the house standing open for all
comers, every man without check eating and drinking at
pleasure.
Before His Majesty's departure from Grimstone, he
knighted these Gentlemen :
Sir ROGER ASTON [co. Chest
Sir THOMAS ASTON [co. Chest.
Sir THOMAS HOLT [co. Chest/
Sir JAMES HARINGTON [co. Rutl]
Sir CHARLES MONTAGUE [co. Northt]
Sir THOMAS DAWNEY [co. York]
Sir WILLIAM BAMBROUGH [co. York]
Sir FRANCIS LOVELL [co. Norf]
Sir THOMAS GERRARD [co. Lane.]
Sir ROBERT WALTER [Lord]
Mayor of York
Sir RALPH CON[N]I[G]SBY
Sir RICHARD MUSGRAVE
"co. York]
co. Hertf.]
"co. York]
The ipth day [of April 1603] being Tuesday, His Majesty
took his journey towards Doncaster. Where, by the way>
he went to Pomfret \Pontefracf\, to see the Castle : which
when he had at pleasure viewed ; he took horse and rode to
Doncaster where he lodged all night at the sign of the Bear
in an Inn; giving the host of the house, for his good entertain
ment, a lease of a Manor House in a reversion, of good value.
The 2Oth day [of April 1603], being Wednesday, His
Majesty rode towards Worsop [Manor], the noble [GILBERT
TALBOT] Earl of SHREWSBURY'S House : and at Batine
{? Bawtry] the High Sheriff of Yorkshire took his leave of
the King, and there Master [ROGER] ASKOTH [or ASCOUGH,
or AYSCUE] the High Sheriff of Nottinghamshire received
him ; being gallantly apppointed both with horse and man.
And so he conducted His Majesty on, till he came within
a mile of Blyth : where His Highness lighted, and sat down
on a bankside to eat and drink.
After His Majesty's short repast, to Worsop His Majesty
5o8
KNIGHTS MADE AT WORSOP MANOR.
r T. M.
|_May 1603.
rides forward. But, by the way, in the Park he was
somewhat stayed. For there appeared a number of Hunts
men, all in green ; the chief of which, with a woodman's
speech, did welcome him, offering His Majesty to shew
him some game : which he gladly condescended [agreed'} to
see ; and, with a train set, he hunted a good space, very
much delighted.
At last he went into the House, where he was so nobly
received, with superfluity of things, that still every entertain
ment seemed to exceed others. In this place, besides the
abundance of all provision^] and delicacie[s], there was most
•excellent soul-ravishing music ; wherewith His Highness
was not a little delighted.
At Worsop, he rested on Wednesday night, and in the
morning stayed breakfast. Which ended, there was such
«tore of provision left, of fowl, of fish, and almost everything,
besides bread beer and wine, that it was left open for any
man that would, to come and take.
After breakfast, His Majesty prepared to remove : but
before his departure he made these Gentlemen, Knights ;
whose names are following :
Sir JOHN MANNERS
Sir HENRY GREY
Sir FRANCIS NEWPORT
Sir HENRY BEAUMONT
Sir EDWARD LORAINE
Sir HUGH SMITH
Sir EDMOND LUCY
Sir EDMOND COKAYN
Sir JOHN HARPER
Sir WILLIAM DAMCOURT
Sir HENRY PERPOINT
Sir THOMAS GRESLAY
Sir JOHN BIRON
Sir PERCIVAL WILLOUGHBY
Sir PETER FRESCHVILE
Sir WILLIAM SKIPWITH
Sir RICHARD THEKESTON
Sir THOMAS STANLEY
[Sir WALTER COPE
co. Derb.]
co. Bedf]
co. Salop.]
co. Leic.]
co. Derb.]
co. Som.]
co. Warw.]
'co. Derb.]
"co. Derb.]
^notin J. PHILIPOT'S List]
not in J. PHILIPOT'S List]
"co. Notts]
co. Notts]
co. Line.]
co. Derb.]
co. Leic.]
co. York]
co. Derb.]
co. Oxon.]
May™]] JAMES I. ILLEGALLY HANGS A THIEF. 509-
The 2 1st [day of April 1603], being Thursday, His
Highness took his way towards Newark upon Trent; where,
that night, he lodged in the Castle, being his own house :
where the Aldermen of Newark presented His Majesty with
a fair gilt cup, manifesting their duties and loving hearts to
him : which was very kindly accepted.
In this town, and in the Court, was taken a cutpurse,
doing the deed ; and, being a base pilfering thief, yet was
all Gentleman-like on the outside. This fellow had [a] good
store of coin found about him : and, upon his examination,
confessed that he had, from Berwick to that place, played
the cutpurse in the Court His fellow was ill missed, for no
doubt he had a walking mate. They drew together like
coach horses, and it is pity they did not go hang together.
For His Majesty, hearing of this nimming gallant, directed
a Warrant presently to the Recorder of Newark, to have
him hanged : which was accordingly executed.
This bearing small comfort to all the rest of his pilfering
faculty, that the first subject that suffered death in England,
in the reign of King James, was a cutpurse : which fault,
if they amend not, heaven suddenly send the rest [the
same fate] !
The King, ere he went from Newark, as he had
commanded this silken base thief, in justice, to be put to
death ; so, in his benign and gracious mercy, he gives life
to all the other poor and wretched prisoners : clearing the
Castle of them all.
This deed of charity done ; before he left Newark [on the
22nd April], he made these Knights :
Sir JOHN PARKER [co. Suss.]
Sir ROBERT BRETT [co. Devon.]
Sir LEWIS LEWKENOR [co. Suss.]
Sir FRANCIS DUCKET co. Salop.]
Sir RICHARD MOMPESSON [co. Bucks.]
Sir RICHARD WARBURTON [co. Chest."
Sir RICHARD WIGMORE [co. Heref.
Sir EDWARD FOXE [co. Salop/
[Sir WILLIAM DAVENPORT co. Chest."
The 22nd day [of April 1603], being Friday, His Majesty
departed from Newark, towards Belvoir Castle ; hunting all
5io KNIGHTS MADE AT BELVOIR CASTLE.
r T. M.
|_May 1603.
the way as he rode : saving that, in the way, he made four
Knights, [the first] one being the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire.
Sir ROGER ASKOTH [or ASCOUGH,
or AYSCUE] [co. Chest]
Sir WILLIAM SUTTON [co. Notts.]
Sir JOHN STANHOPE [co. Derb.]
Sir BRIAN LASSELS [co. York]
Sir ROGER ASKOTH [or ASCOUGH, or AYSCUE], High
Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, being knighted, took leave of
His Majesty ; and Master WILLIAM PELHAM, High Sheriff
of Lincolnshire, received His Highness, being gallantly
appointed both with horse and men ; divers worshipful men
of the same country \County\ accompanying him : who
convoyed and guarded His Majesty to Belvoir Castle, being
the Right Noble [ROGER MANNERS, the] Earl of RUTLAND'S.
Where His Highness was not only royally and most plenti
fully received : but with such exceeding joy of the good Earl
and his honourable Lady, that he took therein exceeding
pleasure.
And he approved his contentment in the morning [of the
23rd April 1603] ; for, before he went to break his fast, he
made these Knights whose names follow :
Sir OLIVER MANNERS
Sir WILLIAM WILLOUGHBY
Sir THOMAS WILLOUGHBY
Sir GREGORY CROMWELL
Sir GEORGE MANNERS
Sir HENRY HASTINGS
Sir WILLIAM PELHAM
Sir PHILIP TIRWHIT
Sir VALENTINE BROWNE
Sir ROGER DALLISON
Sir THOMAS GRANTHAM
Sir JOHN ZOUCHE
Sir WILLIAM JEPSON
Sir EDWARD ASKOTH [or
ASCOUGH, or AYSCUE]
Sir EVERARD DlGBY
Sir ANTHONY MARKHAM
Sir THOMAS CAVE
Sir WILLIAM TURPIN
co. Line.]
co. Line.]
co. Line.]
co. Hunts.]
co. Line.]
co. Leic.
co. Line."
co. Line.
rco. Line."
co. Line."
]co. Line.
]co. Derb.]
co. Southt]
co. Line.]
"co. Rutl]
co. Oxon.]
co. Leic.]
"co. Leic.]
T. M."l
"May 1603. J
KNIGHTS MADE AT BELVOIR CASTLE. 511
Sir JOHN FERRERS
Sir HENRY PAGENHAM
Sir RICHARD MUSGRAVE
Sir WALTER CHUTE
Sir WILLIAM LAMBERT
Sir EDWARD ROSSETER
Sir EDWARD COMINES
Sir PHILIP STIRLEY
Sir EDWARD SWIFT
Sir BASIL BROOKE
Sir WILLIAM FAIRFAX
Sir EDWARD BUSSY
Sir EDWARD TIRWHIT
Sir JOHN THORNE[HAUGH]
Sir NICHOLAS SANDERSON
Sir EDWARD LITTLETON
Sir WILLIAM FOMPT [or
FAWNT]
Sir THOMAS BEAUMONT
Sir WILLIAM SKEFFINGTON
Sir PHILIP SHERRARD
Sir JOHN TlRRIL [or
THOROLD]
Sir EDWARD CARRE
Sir RICHARD OGLE
Sir HAMAN SWITHCOATE [or
rather HUGH WHICHCOT]
Sir WILLIAM HICKMAN
Sir WILLIAM FIELDING
Sir HUMPHREY CONI[G]SBY
[Sir WILLIAM CARRE
[Sir WILLIAM ERMINE
[Sir JOHN WENTWORTH
co. Warw.]
co. Line.]
not in J. PHILIPOT'S List]
co. Kent]
not in J. PHILIPOT'S List]
co. Line.]
not in J. PHILIPOT's List]
co. Leic.]
co. York]
co. Salop.]
'not in J. PHILIPOT'S List]
co. Line.]
co. Line.]
co. Notts.]
'co. Line.]
co. Salop.]
co. Leic.
co. Leic.
co. Leic."
co. Leic.
[co. Line.]
[co. Line.]
[co. Line.]
"co. Line.]
co. Line.]
co. Warw.]
'not in J. PHILIPOT's List]
co. Line.]
co. Line.]
co. Essex]
The 23rd day [of April], being Saturday, after the making
•of these Knights, and having refreshed himself at breakfast ;
His Majesty took kind leave of the Earl of RUTLAND, his
Countess, and the rest : and set forward towards Burlegh.
And, by the way, he dined at Sir JOHN HARlNGTON's
[House ? at Harington-Burley\ ; where that worthy Knight
made him most royal entertainment.
512 THE GIANTS OF THE F E N S. [May™?
After dinner, His Highness removed towards Burlegh,
being near Stamford in Northamptonshire. His Majesty on
the way was attended by many Lords and Knights. And,
before his coming, there were provided train-cents and live
hares in baskets [that] being carried to the Heath \? Emping-
ton Heath], made excellent sport for His Majesty. All the
way between Sir JOHN HARINGTON'S and Stamford, Sir
JOHN'S best hounds with good mouths followed the game ;
the King taking great leisure and pleasure in the same.
Upon this Heath, not far from Stamford, there appeared
to the number of a hundred high men, that seemed like the
Patagones \Patagonians\, huge long fellows of twelve or
fourteen feet high, that are reported to live on the Main
[mainland] of Brazil, near to the Straits of Magellan. The
King, at the first sight, wondered what they were ; for that
they overlooked horse and man. But, when all came to all,
they proved a company of poor honest suitors, all going
upon high stilts, preferring a Petition against the Lady
HATTON. What their request was, I know not : but His
Majesty referred them till his coming to London ; and so
passed on from those giants of the Fens towards Stamford.
Within half a mile whereof, the Bailiffs and the rest of the
chief townsmen of Stamford presented a gift unto His
Majesty; which was graciously accepted. So rode he
forward through the town, in great state, having the Sword
borne before him ; the people joyful on all parts to see him.
When His Highness came to Stamford Bridge ; the
Sheriff of Lincolnshire humbly took his leave, and departed
greatly in the King's grace.
On the other part, the town standing in two Shires,
stood ready [Master WILLIAM TATE] the High Sheriff
of Northamptonshire, bravely accompanied, and gallantly
appointed with men and horse ; who received his Majesty,
and attended him to Burlegh : where His Highness with all
his train were received with great magnificence ; the House
seeming so rich as if it had been furnished at the charges of
an Emperor. Well, it was all too little, His Majesty being
worthy [of] much more ; being now the greatest Christian
monarch, of himself as absolute.
The next day [24th April 1603], being Easter Day, there
MayTieS] KING JAMES I. ARRIVES AT APETHORPE. 513
preached before His Highness, [Dr WILLIAM CHADERTON]
the Bishop of LINCOLN ; and the Sermon was no sooner
done, but all [the] Offices in the house were set open, that
every man might have free access to Butteries, Pantries ;
[and] Kitchens ; to eat and drink in at their pleasures.
The next day, being Monday the 25th of April [1603],
His Highness rode back again to Sir JOHN HARINGTON'S
[House at Harington-Burley] ; and by the way his horse fell
with him, and [he] very dangerously bruised his arm ; to the
great amazement and grief of all them that were about His
Majesty at that time. But he, being of an invincible
courage, and his blood yet hot, made light of it at the first :
and being mounted again, rode to Sir JOHN HARINGTON'S ;
where he continued that night.
And, on Tuesday morning, the pain received by his fall
was so great that he was not able to ride on horseback ; but
he turned from Sir JOHN HARINGTON'S, to take a coach :
wherein His Highness returned to Burlegh, where he was
royally entertained as before ; but not with half that joy,
the report of His Majesty's hurt had disturbed all the Court
so much.
The next day, being Wednesday the 27th day of April
[1603], His Majesty removed from Burlegh towards Master
OLIVER CROMWELL'S.
And, in the way, he dined at that worthy and worshipful
Knight's, Sir ANTHONY MILDMAY'S [at Apethorpe] ; where
nothing wanted in a subject's duty to his Sovereign, nor
anything in so potent a Sovereign to grace so loyal a
subject. Dinner being most sumptuously furnished, the
tables were newly covered with costly Banquets [Dessert] ;
wherein everything that was most delicious for taste proved
[the] more delicate by the art that made it seem beauteous
to the eye : the Lady of the House being one of the most
excellent Confectioners in England ; though I confess many
honourable women [to be] very expert.
Dinner and Banquet [Dessert] being past, and His
Majesty at point to depart ; Sir ANTHONY, considering
how His Majesty vouchsafed to honour him with his royal
ENG. GAR. VIII. 33
514 JAMES I. COMES TO SIR OLIVER CROMWELL'S. [MayT;6o5:
presence, presented His Highness with a gallant Barbary
horse, and a very rich saddle with furniture suitable thereto :
which His Majesty most lovingly and thankfully accepted :
and so, taking his princely leave, set forward on the way.
In this remove towards Master OLIVER CROMWELL'S did
the people flock in greater numbers than in any place
northward. Though many before pressed to see their
Sovereign, yet here the numbers multiplied.
This day, as His Majesty passed through a great common
(which, as the people thereabout complain, Sir I. SPENSER
[JOHN SPENCER] of London hath very uncharitably molested
[enclosed]), most of the country [district] joined together,
beseeching His Majesty that the common might be laid
open again for the comfort of the poor inhabiters there
abouts : which His Highness most graciously promised
should be performed, according to their hearts' desire.
And so, with many benedictions of the comforted people,
he passed on till he came within half a mile of Master
OLIVER CROMWELL's [at Hinchinbrook Priory] ; where
met him the Bailiff of Huntingdon, who made a long oration
to His Majesty, and there delivered him the Sword, which
His Highness gave to the new[ly] released [HENRY
WRIOTHSLEY] Earl of SOUTHAMPTON [the Patron of
SHAKESPEARE} to bear before him.
O admirable work of mercy ! confirming the hearts of all
true subjects in the good opinion of His Majesty's royal
compassion : not alone to deliver from the captivity such
high Nobility, but to use vulgarly with great favours not
only him, but also the children of his late honourable
fellow in distress \i.e. of ROBERT DEVEREUX Earl of
ESSEX]. Well, GOD have glory, that can send friends, in
the hour he best pleaseth, to help them that trust in him.
But to the matter. His Majesty passed, in state, the
Earl of SOUTHAMPTON bearing the Sword before him, as
I before said he was appointed, to Master OLIVER
CROMWELL'S house : where His Majesty and all his
followers, with all comers whatsoever, had such entertain
ment, as the like had not been seen in any place before,
since his first setting forward out of Scotland.
There was such plenty and variety of meats : such
diversity of wines, and those not riffe ruffe but ever the
May1!^:] THE WELCOME OF CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY. 515
best of the kind ; and the cellars open at any man's
pleasure. And if it were so common with wine, there is
little question but the Butteries for beer and ale were
more common ; yet in neither was there difference. For
whoever entered the house, which to no man was denied,
tasted what they had a mind to : and after a taste, found full
ness : no man, like a man, being denied what he would call for.
As this bounty was held back to none within the house ;
so for such poor people as would not press in, there were
many open beer-houses erected : where there was no want
of beef and bread for the comfort of the poorest creatures.
Neither was this provision for the little time of His
Majesty's stay ; but it was made ready [for] fourteen days :
and, after His Highness's departure, distributed to as many
as had [a] mind to it.
There attended also at Master OLIVER CROMWELL'S, the
Heads of the University of Cambridge, all clad in scarlet
gowns and corner-caps : who, having presence of His
Majesty, there was made a most learned and eloquent
Oration in Latin, welcoming His Majesty, as also intreating
the confirmation of their Charter and privileges : which His
Majesty most willingly and free granted. They also pre
sented His Majesty with divers books published in commen
dation of our late gracious Queen : all which was most
graciously accepted of His Highness.
Also Master CROMWELL presented His Majesty with
many rich and acceptable gifts : as a very great and a very
fair wrought Standing Cup of gold, goodly horses, float
[ ? 'fleef\ and deep-mouthed hounds, divers hawks of excellent
wing. And at the remove, [he] gave £$o [=£200 now}
amongst His Majesty's Officers.
Upon the 2Qth day [of April 1603], being Friday, after
His Highness had broke his fast ; he took kind and
gracious leave of Master OLIVER CROMWELL* and his
virtuous Lady, late widow to that noble and opulent Knight,
Signor HORATIO PAULO VlClNO.
Thence, with many regal thanks for his entertainment, he
•departed to Royston.
* Sir OLIVER CROMWELL was uncle of his great namesake. E. A.
516 THE 70 PLOW-TEAMS OF GODMANCHESTER. [MayTi6^:
And as he passed through Godmanchester, a town close
by Huntingdon, the Bailiffs of the town with their Brethren
met him ; and acknowledged their allegiance. There, con
voying him through their town, they presented him with
threescore and ten team[s] of horse all traced to fair new
ploughs ; in shew of their husbandry.
Which, while His Majesty, being very well delighted
with the sight, demanded, Why they offered him so many
horses and ploughs ? he was resolved [answered], That it
was their ancient custom whensoever any King of England
passed through their town, so to present His Excellence.
Besides, they added, that they held their lands by that
tenure ; being the King's tenants.
His Majesty not only took well in worth their good
minds ; but bade them use well their ploughs : being glad
he was landlord of so many good husbandmen in one town.
I trust His Highness, when he knows well the wrong, will
take order for those, as Her Majesty began, that turn
ploughland into pasturage : and where many good husband
men dwelt there is now nothing left but a great house
without [a] fire : the Lord commonly at sojourn near
London ; and for the husbandmen and ploughs, he only
maintains a shepherd and his dog. But what do I talking
of sheep ! when I am to follow the gests of a King. I will
leave them and their wolfish Lords, that have eaten up
poor husbandmen like sheep : and proceed where I left [off].
His Majesty, being past Godmanchester, held on his way
to Royston ; and drawing near the town, the Sheriff of
Huntingdonshire humbly took his leave. And there he
was received by that worthy Knight, Sir EDWARD DENNY,
High Sheriff of Hertfordshire, attended upon by a goodly
company of proper men, being in number seven score,
suitably apparelled. Their liveries [were] blue coats,
with sleeves parted in the midst, buttoned behind in
jerkin fashion ; and white doublets : and hats and
feathers : and all of them mounted on horses with red
saddles.
Sir EDWARD, after his humble duty done, presented
His Majesty with a gallant horse, a rich saddle, and furni
ture correspondent to the same ; being of great value :
which His Majesty accepted very graciously, and caused
May™:] THE KING REACHES BROXBURN BURY. 517
him to ride on the same before him. This worthy Knight,
being of a deliver spirit and agile body, quickly mounted,
managing the gallant beast with neat and eiduing work
manship [ ? eye-doing horsemanship] : being in a rich suit of a
yellow dun colour ; somewhat near the colour of the horse,
and the furniture.
And thus, in brave manner, he conducted His Majesty
to one Master CHESTER'S house [at Cockenhatch] : where
His Highness lay that night, at his own kingly charge.
The 3Oth day [of April 1603], being Saturday, His
Majesty took his journey towards Standon, to Sir THOMAS
SADLER'S : and, by the way, [Dr RICHARD BANCROFT] the
Bishop of LONDON met him ; attended on by a seemly
company of Gentlemen in tawny coats and chains of
gold.
At SIR THOMAS SADLER'S, His Majesty was royally
entertained, for himself and his kingly train : nothing
being wanting the best desired, nor the meanest could
demand.
There His Majesty stayed [on] Sunday : before whom the
Bishop of LONDON preached.
His Majesty, now drawing near to London, the numbers
of people more and more increased, as well of Nobility,
Gentry, Citizens, country people, and all ; as well of degree
as of no degree. So great a desire had the Noble that
they pressed with the ignoble to see their Sovereign : this
being the difference of their desires, that the better sort,
either in blood or of conceit, came to observe and serve ; the
other to see and wonder.
The ist of May [1603], being Monday, His Majesty
removed to Sir HENRY COCK'S [at Broxburn Bury], being
9 miles from Sir THOMAS SADLER'S : where provision for
His Majesty and his royal train was so abundant that there
was no man of what condition soever, but had what his
appetite desired. For His Majesty's private and most to be
respected entertainment : it was such as ministered His
Highness great contentment.
Continuing there but one night, and departing the
518 THE KING ARRIVES AT THEOBALDS. [May™:
next day ; [he] honoured the good Knight for his greater
expenses.
The 3rd of May [1603], being Tuesday, His Majesty took
his journey towards Theobalds, a house belonging to Sir
ROBERT CECIL, and about 4 miles distant from Sir
HENRY COCK'S : where met him [Sir THOMAS EGERTON,
afterwards Lord ELLESMERE,] the Lord Keeper [of the
Great Seal], [THOMAS SACKVILLE, Earl of DORSET,] the
Lord Treasurer, [CHARLES HOWARD, Earl of NOTTING
HAM,] the Lord Admiral, with most of the Nobility of the
land and [the] Council of Estate ; who were graciously
received.
At which time, the Lord Keeper made a most grave,
learned, brief, and pithy oration to His Majesty : to which
His Highness answered with great grace and princely
wisdom.
At this house there met His Majesty all, or the most part,
of the old servants and Officers in [the] Household of our
late royal Mistress, Queen ELIZABETH ; and with them, the
Guard of His Majesty's Body : all of them being courteously
received to their own content.
Also in this house of Theobalds, His Majesty made
divers Noblemen of Scotland, of his Honourable Privy
Council [of England], viz : v
;LODOWICK STUART,] the Duke of LENOX.
JOHN ERSKINE,] the Earl of MAR.
^ALEXANDER HOME,] the Lord HOME.
Sir GEORGE HOME [, afterwards Earl of DUNBAR],
Treasurer of Scotland.
Sir JAMES ELPHINSTON [, afterwards Lord BALMERI-
NOCH], Secretary to the King.
[EDWARD BRUCE,] the Lord of KINLOSS, now Master
of His Majesty's Rolls. [He received that appoint
ment on 1 8th May 1603.]
Also of the English Nobility, he made these of his secret
and Honourable [Privy] Council ;
The Lord HENRY HOWARD [, afterwards Earl of NOR
THAMPTON],
The Lord THOMAS HOWARD [, afterwards Earl of
r. M.-r
May 1603. J
KNIGHTS MADE AT THEOBALDS.
519
SUFFOLK] : who was also made there, Lord Chamber
lain.
[CHARLES BLOUNT,] the Lord MOUNTJOY [, afterwards
Earl of DEVONSHIRE].
His Majesty stayed at Theobalds four days [^rd-6tk May
1603] ; where to speak of Sir ROBERT'S cost to entertain
him were but to imitate geographers that set a little o for
a mighty Province : words being hardly able to express what
was done there indeed, considering the multitude that
thither resorted, besides the train ; none going hence unsatis
fied. [See Vol. V.,pp. 623-656].
At Theobalds, His Majesty made these Knights [on
7th May] :
Sir WILLIAM KILLIGREW
Sir FRANCIS BARRINGTON
Sir ROWLAND LITTON
Sir WILLIAM PETERS [?PETRE
Sir JOHN BROGRAVE
Sir WILLIAM COOKE
Sir ARTHUR CAPEL
Sir HERBERT CROFT
Sir EDWARD GREVILL
Sir HENRY BOTELER
Sir HENRY MAYNARD
Sir RICHARD SPENCER
Sir JOHN LEVENTHORP
Sir MICHAEL STANHOPE
Sir THOMAS POPE BLOUNT
Sir RICHARD GIFFORD.
Sir THOMAS MEDCALFE
Sir GAMALIEL CAPEL
Sir WILLIAM SMITH
Sir JOHN FERRERS
Sir ROBERT BITTON
Sir VINCENT SKINNER
Sir HUGH BEESTON
Sir JOHN LEIGH
Sir THOMAS BISHOP
Sir EDWARD LEWIS
'co. Cornw.]
'co. Essex]
>o. Hertf.]
[co. Essex]
. Hertf.]
'co. Essex]
'co Hertf.]
]co. Heref.]
co. Warw.]
rco. Hertf.
co. Essex
co. Hertf.
co. Hertf:
"co. Suff.]
=co. Hertf.]
co. York.]
~co. Essex]
"co. Essex]
"co. Hertf]
not in J. PHILIPOT'S List]
co. Middl.]
co. Chest.]
not in J. PHILIPOT'S List]
^co. Suss.]
co. Glam.]
520 JAMES I. ENTERS LONDON IN STATE. [May™:
Sir GERVASE ELWES [or ELLYS]
Sir RICHARD BAKER [the Chronicler, co. Kent]
[Sir HENRY FANSHAW co. Hertf.]
The /th. of May [1603], being Saturday, His Majesty
removed from Theobalds, towards London, riding through
the meadows : where, within two miles on this side of
Waltham, Sir HENRY DENNY discharged his followers.
And there, Master SwiNNERTON, one of the Sheriffs
of London, accompanied with the Sheriff of Middlesex,
met his Majesty, with sixty men in livery cloaks ; where
an eloquent and learned oration was made to His Highness.
Besides these men in livery cloaks that attended the
Sheriff, all well mounted on gallant horses; most oi the
Sheriff's Officers attended him : who conducted His Majesty
[to] within two miles of London.
And at Stamford Hill [Master ROBERT LEE] the Lord
Mayor of London presented him with the Sword and Keys
of the City : with whom were the Knights and Aldermen
in scarlet gowns and great chains of gold about their necks,
with the Chief Officers and Council of the City. Besides
500 citizens, all very well mounted, clad in velvet coats
and chains of gold ; with the chief Gentlemen of the
Hundreds : who made a gallant shew to entertain their
Sovereign.
There also met his Majesty, all his Officers of Estate, as
Serjeants at Arms with their rich maces ; the Heralds with
their Coats of Arms, and Trumpeters : every one in their
order and due place.
The Duke of LENOX bore the Sword of Honour before
His Majesty : and so His Highness passed on in royal and
imperial manner.
At this time, that honourable old Knight Sir HENRY
LEIGH met with His Majesty, being attended by sixty
gallant men well mounted on fair horses, thirty of them
being great horses : many of his men having chains of gold ;
the rest wearing yellow scarfs embroidered with these words,
Constantia etfide. To this old Knight, His Majesty spake very
lovingly : and so paced through his troops very well pleased.
The multitudes of people in high ways, fields, meadows,
closes, and on trees, were such that they covered the beauty
KNIGHTS MADE AT THE CHARTERHOUSE. 52!
of the fields ; and so greedy were they to behold the counte
nance of the King that, with much unruliness, they injured
and hurt one another. Some even hazarded to the danger
of death. But as uncivil as they were among themselves ;
all the way, as His Majesty past [they welcomed him] with
shouts, and cries, and casting up of hats (of which many
never returned into the owners' hands).
He passed by them, over the fields ; and came in at the
back side of the Charterhouse.
Thither being come, he was most royal received and
entertained by the Lord THOMAS HOWARD. Where was
such abundance of provision of all manner of things that
greater could not be ; both of rare wild fowls, and many rare
and extraordinary banquets ; to the great liking of His
Majesty, and contentment of the whole train.
He lay there four nights \Jth to \Qth May 1603] : in which
time the Lords of the Council often resorted thither, and sat
upon their serious affairs.
At his departure \iith May 1603], he made divers Knights,
vwhose names are these :
Sir CHARLES HOWARD
Sir AMBROSE WILLOUGHBY
Sir EDWARD HOWARD
Sir HENRY HASTINGS
Sir GILES ALLINGTON
Sir RICHARD VERNEY
Sir JOHN THINNE
Sir WILLIAM FITZWILLIAMS
Sir WILLIAM CARREL
Sir EDWARD BACON
Sir FRANCIS ANDERSON
Sir JOHN POULTNEY
Sir EDWARD DARCY
Sir JOHN SYDENHAM
Sir JOHN TUFTON
Sir THOMAS GRIFFIN
Sir VALENTINE KNIGHTLEY
Sir RALPH WISEMAN
Sir WILLIAM AYLOFFE
Sir JAMES CROMER
co. Suss.]
co. Line.]
co. Surr.]
co. Leic.]
co. Camb.]
co. Warw.]
co. Wilts.]
co. Line.]
"co. Suss.]
co. Suff.]
co. Bedf.]
"co. Notts.]
"co. York]
). Som.]
co. Kent]
"co. Northt.]
"co. Northt]
"co. Essex]
co. Essex]
'co. Kent]
522 KNIGHTS MADE AT THE CHARTERHOUSE. [
T. M.
May 1603.
Sir THOMAS ROUSE
Sir RODNEY
Sir HENRY VAUGHAN
Sir JOHN SMITH
Sir JOHN HUNNAM
Sir THOMAS MEDE
Sir EUSEBIUS ISHAM
Sir ARTHUR COOPER
Sir ROBERT WINGFIELD
Sir THOMAS JOSLING
Sir HENRY GOODERICK
Sir MAXIMILIAN DALLISON
Sir WILLIAM COPE
Sir GEORGE FLEETWOOD
Sir PETER EVERS
Sir HENRY CLEERE
Sir FRANCIS WOLLEY
Sir ARTHUR MAINWARING
Sir EDWARD WATERHOUSE
Sir WILLIAM TWVSDEN
Sir HATTON CHEEKE
Sir HENRY GORING
Sir ROBERT TOWNSEND
Sir WILLIAM HYNDE
Sir RICHARD SANDYS
Sir ROBERT BRUCE COTTON
Sir OLIVER LUKE
Sir THOMAS KNEVET
Sir HENRY SECKFORD
Sir EDWIN SANDYS
Sir JOHN ASHLEY
Sir WILLIAM FLEETWOOD
Sir WALTER MILDMAY
Sir EDWARD LEWKENOR
Sir MILES SANDYS
Sir WILLIAM KINGSMILL
Sir THOMAS KEMPE
Sir EDWARD TYRREL
Sir THOMAS RUSSELL
Sir RICHARD TICHBORNE
Sir THOMAS CORNWALL
co. Suff.]
not in J. PHILIPOT'S List}
not in J. PHILIPOT'S List}
. Kent]
co. Chest.]
co. Kent]
'co. Northt]
co. Surr.]
. Northt]
co. Herts.]
co. York.]
^. Kent]
co. Northt.]
co. Bucks.]
co. Line/
co. Norf."
co. Line."
co. Chest.]
co. York]
co. Kent]
? co. Essex]
co. Suss.]
co. Salop.]
co. Camb.]
"co. Kent]
co. Hunts.]
co. Bedf.]
co. Norf.]
co. Suff.]
co. Kent
co. Kent
co. Bedf/
co. Essex]
co. Suff.]
co. Camb.]
co. Southt]
co. Kent]
co. Bucks.]
co. Wore.]
co. Southt]
co. Salop.]
May xfcH KNIGHTS MADE AT THE CHARTERHOUSE. 523
Sir RICHARD FERMOR
Sir WILLIAM STAFFORD
Sir THOMAS CARRELL
Sir EDWARD CARRELL
Sir THOMAS PALMER
Sir ROBERT NEWDIGATE
Sir GEORGE RAWLEIGH
Sir THOMAS BEAUFOE
Sir WILLIAM LOWER
Sir THOMAS FAIRFAX
Sir HENRY SIDNEY
Sir GEORGE HARVEY
Sir HENRY GRIPPES
[or CRISPE
Sir JOHN HEVENINGHAM
Sir WILLIAM BOWYER
Sir JEROME WESTON
Sir EDMUND BOWYER
Sir NICHOLAS HASLEWOOD
Sir JOHN JENNINGS
Sir AMBROSE TURVILLE
Sir JOHN LUKE
Sir JOHN DORMER
Sir RICHARD SAUNDERS
Sir JOHN SHERLEY
Sir THOMAS WAYNEMAN
Sir GODDARD PEMPTON
Sir THOMAS METHAM
Sir EDMUND BELLINGHAM
Sir JOHN HARINGTON
Sir EDWARD HARINGTON
Sir WILLIAM DYER
Sir WILLIAM DYER
Sir WALTER MONTAGUE
Sir GUY PALMES
Sir HENRY ASHLEY
Sir THOMAS VACKATHELL
[or VACHILL.]
Sir THOMAS STUKELEY
Sir EDWARD WATSON
Sir THOMAS PRESTON
>o. Northt]
co. Hunts.]
~co. Suss.]
jiotinj. PHILIPOT'S List.]
'co. Kent]
co. Bedf.]
'co. Essex]
"co. Warw.]
"co. Cornw.]
"co. York]
'co. Norf.]
'co. Essex]
co. Kent]
co. Norf.]
co. Bucks.]
co. Essex]
co. Surr.]
co. Northt.]
^co. Wore.]
co. Line.]
co. Bedfj
co. Bucks.]
co. Line.]
^co. Suss.]
co. Oxon.]
co. York]
co. Camb.]
"co. York]
co. York
co. Som.
co. Som.
"co. Som."
co. Rutl/
co. Surr/
[co. Suss.]
[co. Northt]
[co. Dors.]
524 KNIGHTS MADE AT THE CHARTERHOUSE.
Sir WILLIAM LEEKE
Sir CHARLES CORNWALLIS
Sir EDWARD FRANCIS
Sir HUGH LOSSE
Sir WILLIAM LYGON
Sir THOMAS [LE] GROSSE
Sir JOHN TASKEROW
\pr TASBURGH
Sir THOMAS FOWLER
Sir EUSEBIUS ANDREW
Sir EDWARD ANDREW
Sir WILLIAM KINGSMILL
Sir ROBERT LUCY
Sir WILLIAM WALTER
Sir JOHN CUTTS
Sir RICHARD BLOUNT
Sir ANTHONY BERING
Sir H. VAUGHAN
Sir JOHN CAREW
Sir EDWARD APSLEY
Sir BERTRAM BOOMER
Sir WILLIAM ALFORD
Sir ROBERT LEE
Sir THOMAS BEAUMONT
Sir ROBERT MARKHAM
Sir FRANCIS CASTILION
Sir GEORGE SAVILE
Sir GEORGE MARTHAM
Sir ARTHUR ATTIE
\pr ATEY
Sir PECKSALL BROCAS
Sir JOHN WASH ALL [or
? Sir ROBERT MARSHALL]
Sir ROBERT CLEVELAND
Sir RICHARD FERMOR [co. Northt]
[Sir THOMAS CHEKE co. Essex]
"Sir THOMAS AYLOFFE co. Essex]
Sir WALTER TICHBORNE
Sir THOMAS BAKER
"co. Suff.]
[notin J. PniLIPOT'sList]
[co. Middl.]
[co. Wore.]
[co. Norf.]
co. Suff.]
^. Middl.]
co. Northt.]
notin J. PHILIPOT'S List.]
[co. Southt]
co. Warw.]
[co. Camb.]
[co. Oxon.]
"co. Kent]
[notin J. PHILIPOT'S List]
[co. Som.]
co. Suss.]
[co. York]
co. Line.]
[co. Leic.]
co. Oxon.]
[co. Berks.]
co. York]
[notin J. PHILIPOT'S List]
co. Middl.]
[co. Southt]
MayTi'6S] JAMES I. ENTERS THE ToWER OF LONDON. 525
Upon Wednesday, the nth of May 1603, His Majesty
set forward from the Charterhouse, to the Tower of London ;
in going quietly on horseback to Whitehall, where he took
[his] barge.
Having shot the Bridge [London Bridge\ his present
landing was expected at [the] Tower Stairs. But it pleased
His Highness to pass the Tower Stairs, towards St
Katharine's : and there stayed on the water to see the
ordnance on the White Tower, commonly called JULIUS
CAESAR'S Tower, being in number 20 pieces ; [together]
with the great ordnance on Tower Wharf, being in number
100 ; and chambers to the number of 130, discharged off.
Of which all services were so sufficiently performed by the
Gunners, that a peal of so good order was never heard before :
which was most commendable to all sorts, and very accept
able to the King.
Then his royal person arrived at his own Stairs, so called
the King's Stairs ; and with him these Nobles, besides other
gallant Gentlemen of worthy note, viz :
[CHARLES HOWARD, the Earl of NOTTINGHAM,] the
Lord Admiral,
[HENRY PERCY,] the Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND,
[EDWARD SOMERSET,] the Earl of WORCESTER,
Lord THOMAS HOWARD, &c.
At his coming up the Stairs, the Sword was presented to
His Majesty by Sir THOMAS CONI[G]SBY, Gentleman
Usher of his Privy Chamber ; and by the King delivered
to the Duke of LENOX: who bare it before him into the
Tower.
Upon the Stairs, the Gentleman Porter delivered the Keys
of the Tower to [Sir JOHN PEYTON] the Lieutenant of the
Tower ; and the Lieutenant presented them accordingly
to the King's Majesty : who most graciously acknowledged
the most faithful discharge of the loyal and most great trust
put in him ; so, taking him about the neck, [he] redelivered
them again.
After his repose in the Tower some [i.e. about an\ hour ;
it was His Majesty's pleasure to see some [of the] Offices :
as the Armory, the Wardrobe, the rich Artillery, and the
Church. And after, for recreation, he walked in the garden :
and so rested for that night.
526 KNIGHTS MADE AT THE TOWER OF LONDON. [May™:
The next day, being Thursday and the I2th of May [1603]
he saw the Ordnance House ; and after that, the Mint
Houses ; and, last of all, the lions.
The next day, being Friday the I3th of May [1603], he
made these Lords and Knights following, viz :
In his Presence Chamber, before dinner.
[Sir ROBERT CECIL,] Lord ESSENDON [, co. Rutl. :
afterwards Earl of SALISBURY].
[Sir ROBERT SYDNEY,] Lord SYDNEY ofPenshurst [, co.
Kent : afterwards Earl of LEICESTER].
[Sir WILLIAM KNOLLYS,] Lord KNOLLYS of Grays
[, co. Oxon. : afterwards Earl of BANBURY].
[Sir EDWARD WOTTON,] Lord WOTTON of Mar[her]ley
[, co. Kent].
Sir JOHN DEANE
Sir JOHN TREAVOR
Sir THOMAS SMITH
Sir THOMAS HUBERT
"co. Essex]
"co. Flint]
"co. Kent]
'co. Norf.]
And [in the] afternoon, in the Gallery.
Sir WILLIAM DETHICK, Garter
[King at Arms co. Surr.]
Sir ROBERT MACKLARAND [co. Oxon.]
Sir GEORGE MORTON [co. Dors.]
Sir EDMUND BELL [co. Norf]
Sir THOMAS PEYTON [co. Kent]
Sir DAVID FOWLES
Sir WILLIAM GARDNER [co. Surr.]
52?
MICHAEL DRAYTON.
Odes.
[1606, and 1619.]
The following twelve Odes made their first appearance in an undated
Volume of Poems Lyrical and Pastoral : but its date is fixed, as being
in 1606, mainly by the nth Ode on The Virginian Voyage.
As will be seen from pages 358-359 of the Second Volume of this
Series ; JAMES I., on loth April 1606, divided Virginia into two
Colonies. The Southern (34° to 41° N.), or First, Colony, he granted
to the London Company : and the Northern (38° to 45° N.), or Second,
Colony, to the Plymouth Company.
This nth Ode must therefore have been written somewhat before
1 2th August 1606 ; as, on that day, the Plymouth Company sent off, for
North Virginia, Captain HENRY CHALLON'S ship : which was how
ever taken by the Spanish Plate Fleet, and its crew brought prisoners
into Spain.
Of these twelve Odes ; Nos. 4 and 8 were not reprinted in the Second
Edition of 1619. The text of the other ten is largely that of that later
edition, which was carefully revised by DRAYTON ; who, amongst other
changes, added in it those Headings which are here inserted between
square brackets.
7!? the Reader.
DES I have called these, the first of my few Poems ;
which how happy soever they prove, yet Criti
cism itself cannot say, That the name is wrong
fully usurped. For (not to begin with Definitions,
against the Rule of Oratory ; nor ab ovo, against
the Prescript of Poetry in a poetical argument : but some
what only to season thy palate with a slight descrip
tion) an Ode is known to have been properly a Song
moduled to the ancient harp : and neither too short-
breathed, as hastening to the end ; nor composed of [the]
longest verses, as unfit for the sudden turns and lofty tricks
with which APOLLO used to menage it.
They are, as the Learned say, divers :
Some transcendently lofty ; and far more high than the
Epic, commonly called the Heroic, Poem — witness those of the
inimitable PlNDARUS consecrated to the glory and renown
528 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. [M'Drai^6'.
of such -as returned in triumph from [the Games at]
Olympus, Elis, Isthmus, or the like.
Others, among the Greeks, are amorous, soft, and made
for chambers ; as others for theatres : as were ANACREON'S,
the very delicacies of the Grecian ERATO ; which Muse
seemed to have been the Minion of that Teian old man,
which composed them.
Of a mixed kind were HORACE'S. And [we] may truly
therefore call these mixed ; whatsoever else are mine : little
partaking of the high dialect of the first
Though we be all to seek
Of PINDAR, that great Greek, [p. 531]
nor altogether of ANACREON ; the Arguments being amorous,
moral, or what else the Muse pleaseth.
To write much in this kind neither know I how it will
relish : nor, in so doing, can I but injuriously presuppose
ignorance or sloth in thee ; or draw censure upon myself
for sinning against the decorum of a Preface, by reading a
Lecture, where it is enough to sum the points. New they
are, and the work of Playing Hours : but what other com
mendation is theirs, and whether inherent in the subject,
must be thine to judge.
But to act the Go-Between of my Poems and thy applause,
is neither my modesty nor confidence: that, oftener than
once, have acknowledged thee, kind ; and do not doubt
hereafter to do somewhat in which 1 shall not fear thee,
just. And would, at this time, also gladly let thee under
stand what I think, above the rest, of the last Ode of the
number ; or, if thou wilt, Ballad in my book. For both
the great Master of Italian rymes PETRARCH, and our
CHAUCER, and others of the Upper House of the Muses,
have thought their Canzons honoured in the title of a Ballad :
which for that I labour to meet truly therein with the old
English garb, I hope as ably to justify as the learned COLIN
CLOUT his Roundelay.
Thus requesting thee, in thy better judgment, to correct
such faults as have escaped in the printing ; I bid thee
farewell.
[M. DRAYTON.]
529
ODES.
[1606.]
ODE I.
To Himself, and the Harp.
ND why not I, as he
That 's greatest, if as free,
(In sundry strains that strive,
Since there so many be),
Th' old Lyric kind revive ?
I will, yea ; and I may :
Who shall oppose my way ?
For what is he alone,
That of himself can say,'
He 's Heir of Helicon.
APOLLO and the Nine
Forbid no man their shrine,
That cometh with hands pure ;
Else, they be so divine,
They will not him endure.
For they be such coy things ;
That they care not for Kings,
And dare let them know it :
Nor may he touch their Springs
That is not born a Poet.
The Phocean it did prove, .
TTt7i i r II^TI King of Phocis
Whom when loul lust did move Attempting to
Those Maids, unchaste to make ; Mu^hs.the
Fell as with them he strove,
His neck and justly brake.
ENG. GAR. VIII , .
530
ODES.
"M. Drayton.
1606.
i Samuel xvi.
ORPHEUS the
Thracian Poet.
Cajiut, tfebre,
lyramqiie
excipis, &*c.
OVID.
Metam. xi.
MERCURY,
inventor of the
harp,as HORACE.
Ode 10, Lib. I.,
curv&qut lyrte
Jxirentem.
Thebes feigned
to have been
raised by music.
The ancient
British Priests,
so called of their
abode in woods.
That instrument ne'er heard,
Struck by the skilful Bard,
It strongly to awake ;
But it th' infernals scared,
And made Olympus quake.
As those prophetic strings,
Whose sounds with fiery wings
. Drave fiends from their abode ;
Touched by the best of Kings,
That sang the holy Ode.
So his, which women slew :
And it int' Hebrus threw;
Such sounds yet forth it sent,
The banks to weep that drew,
As down the stream it went.
That by the tortoise shell,
To MAYA'S son it fell,
The most thereof not doubt :
But sure some Power did dwell
In him who found it out.
The wildest of the field,
And air, with rivers t' yield,
Which moved ; that sturdy glebes,
And mossy oaks could wield,
To raise the piles of Thebes.
And diversely though strung,
So anciently We sung
To it; that now scarce known,
If first it did belong
To Greece, or if our own.
The Druids embrued
With gore, on altars rude
With sacrifices crowned,
In hollow woods bedewed,
Adored the trembling sound.
M. Drayton."!
i6ofi.J
ODES.
531
Though we be all to seek
Of PINDAR, that great Greek,
To finger it aright ;
The soul with power to strike :
His hand retained such might.
Or him that Rome did grace,
Whose Airs we all embrace :
That scarcely found his peer ;
Nor giveth PHCEBUS place,
For strokes divinely clear.
The Irish I admire,
And still cleave to that Lyre
As our Music's mother :
And think, till I expire,
APOLLO'S such another.
As Britons that so long
Have held this antique Song ;
And let all our carpers
Forbear their fame to wrong :
Th'are right skilful harpers.
SOOWTHERN, I long thee spare ;
Yet wish thee well to fare,
Who me pleasedst greatly :
As first, therefore more rare,
Handling thy harp neatly.
To those that with despite
Shall term these Numbers slight ;
Tell them, Their judgment 's blind
Much erring from the right.
It is a noble kind.
Nor is 't the Verse doth make,
That giveth, or doth take :
'Tis possible to climb,
To kindle, or to slake ;
Although in SKELTON'S rhyme.
PINDAR, Prince
of the Greek
Lyrics, of whom
HORACE,
PINDARUM
guisquis studet,
&*c. Ode 2, Lib.
TV.
HORACE, first of
the Romans in
that kind.
The Irish Harp.
SOOWTHERN, an
English Lyric.
[His
PANDORA
was published in
1584-]
An old English
Rhymer.
532
ODES.
"M. Drayton.
1606.
ODE 2.
To the New Year.
ICH statue double faced !
With marble temples graced,
To raise thy godhead higher ;
In flames where, altars shining,
Before thy Priests divining,
Do od'rous fumes expire.
Great JANUS, I thy pleasure,
With all the Thespian treasure,
Do seriously pursue :
To th' passed year returning,
As though the Old adjourning ;
Yet bringing in the New.
Thy ancient Vigils yearly,
I have observed clearly ;
Thy Feasts yet smoking be !
Since all thy store abroad is ;
Give something to my goddess,
As hath been used by thee !
Give her th' Eoan Brightness !
Winged with that subtle lightness
That doth transpierce the air;
The Roses of the Morning !
The rising heaven adorning,
To mesh with flames of hair ;
Those ceaseless Sounds, above all,
Made by those orbs that move all ;
And ever swelling there :
Wrapped up in Numbers flowing,
Them actually bestowing
For jewels at her ear.
I. Drayton.") O r> TT C
1606. J W D E S.
O rapture great and holy,
Do thou transport me wholly
So well her form to vary !
That I aloft may bear her
Where as I will insphere her
In regions high and starry.
And in my choice Composures^
The soft and easy Closures
So amorously shall meet,
That every lively Ceasure
Shall tread a perfect measure,
Set on so equal feet.
That spray to fame so fert'le,
The lover-crowning myrtle,
In wreaths of mixed boughs ;
Within whose shades are dwelling
Those beauties most excelling,
Enthroned upon her brows.
Those parallels so even,
Drawn on the face of heaven,
That curious Art supposes ;
Direct those gems, whose clearness
Far off amaze by nearness,
Each globe such fire encloses.
Her bosom full of blisses,
By Nature made for kisses ;
So pure and wondrous clear :
Where as a thousand Graces
Behold their lovely faces,
As they are bathing there.
O thou self-little Blindness !
The kindness of unkindness,
Yet one of those Divine :
Thy Brands to me were lever,
Thy Fascia, and thy Quiver,
And thou this Quill of mine.
534 ODES.
This heart so freshly bleeding,
Upon its own self feeding ;
Whose wounds still dropping be
O Love, thyself confounding,
Her coldness so abounding,
And yet such heat in me.
Yet, if I be inspired,
I'll leave thee so admired
To all that shall succeed ;
That were they more than many,
'Mongst all there is not any
That Time so oft shall read.
Nor adamant ingraved,
That hath been choicely saved,
IDEA'S name outwears :
So large a dower as this is ;
The greatest often misses,
The diadem that bears.
"M. Drayton.
1606.
ODE 3.
[To CUPID]
AlDENS, why spare ye ?
Or whether not dare ye
Correct the blind Shooter?
" Because wanton VENUS,
So oft that doth pain us,
Is her son's tutor.
" Now in the Spring,
He proveth his wing ;
The field is his Bower:
M.Drayton.-j O D E S. 535
And as the small bee,
About flyeth he,
From flower to flower.
u And wantonly roves
Abroad in the groves,
And in the air hovers ;
Which when it him deweth,
His feathers he meweth
In sighs of true Lovers.
" And since doomed by Fate
(That well knew his hate)
That he should be blind ;
For very despite,
Our eyes be his White :
So wayward his kind !
"If his shafts losing
(111 his mark choosing)
Or his bow broken ;
The moan VENUS maketh,
And care that she taketh,
Cannot be spoken.
" To VULCAN commending
Her love ; and straight sending
Her doves and her sparrows,
With kisses, unto him :
And all but to woo him
To make her son arrows.
" Telling what he hath done ;
Saith she, ' Right mine own son ! '
In her arms she him closes.
Sweets on him fans,
Laid in down of her swans ;
His sheets, leaves of roses.
536
ODES. |
" And feeds him with kisses ;
Which oft when he misses,
He ever is froward.
The mother's o'erjoying
Makes, by much coying, ,
The child so untoward."
Yet in a fine net,
That a spider set,
The Maidens had caught him.
Had she not been near him,
And chanced to hear him ;
More good they had taught him !
:M. Drayton.
1606.
To my worthy friend Master JOHN SAVAGE
of the Inner Temple.
ODE 4.
PON this sinful earth,
If Man can happy be,
And higher than his birth,
Friend, take him thus of me :
Whom promise not deceives,
That he the breach should rue ;
Nor constant reason leaves
Opinion to pursue.
To raise his mean estate,
That soothes no Wanton's sin :
Doth that preferment hate,
That virtue doth not win.
M. Drayton.l O r» TT C C'2'7
1606. J u D E s. 537
Nor bravery doth admire :
Nor doth more love profess
To that he doth desire,
Than that he doth possess.
Loose humour nor to please,
That neither spares nor spends ;
But by discretion weighs
What is to needful ends.
To him deserving not,
Not yielding : nor doth hold
What is not his : doing what
He ought, not what he could.
Whom the base tyrants' will
So much could never awe
As him, for good or ill,
From honesty to draw.
Whose constancy doth rise
'Bove undeserved spite ;
Whose valuers to despise
That most doth him delight.
That early leave doth take
Of th' World, though to his pain,
For Virtue's only sake ;
And not till need constrain.
No man can be so free,
Though in imperial seat ;
Nor eminent : as he
That deemeth nothing great.
ODES.
[M. Drayton.
1606.
ODE 5.
[An Amouret Anacreontic^
OST good ! most fair ! ,
Or thing as rare !
To call you 's lost ;
For all the cost
Words can bestow
So poorly show
Upon your praise,
That all the ways
Sense hath, come short
Whereby Report
Falls them under :
That when Wonder
More hath seized ;
Yet not pleased
That it, in kind,
Nothing can find,
You to express.
Nevertheless
As by globes small
This mighty ALL
Is shewed, though far
From life ; each star
A World being :
So we seeing
You, like as that,
Only trust what
Art doth us teach.
And when I reach
At Moral Things,
And that my strings
Gravely should strike;
Straight some mislike
Blotteth mine Ode ;
As, with the Load,
The Steel we touch :
Forced ne'er so much ;
ODES.
Yet still removes
To that it loves,
Till there it stays.
So to your praise
I turn ever :
And though never
From you moving ;
Happy so loving.
ODE 6.
[Love's Conquest.]
ER 'T granted me to choose,
How I would end my days,
Since I this life must lose;
It should be in your praise :
For there are no Bays
Can be set above You.
S' impossibly I love You ;
And for You sit so high
(Whence none may remove You)
In my clear Poesy,
That I oft deny
You so ample merit.
The freedom of my spirit
Maintaining, still, my cause;
Your sex not to inherit,
Urging the Salic Laws :
But your virtue draws
From me every due.
Thus still You me pursue,
That nowhere I can dwell ;
• By fear made just to You,
540
ODES.
Who naturally rebel ;
Of You that excel
That should I still endite.
Yet will You want some rite.
That lost in your high praise,
I wander to and fro ;
As seeing sundry ways :
Yet which the right not know
To get out of this Maze.
"M. Drayton.
1606'
ODE 7.
[An Ode written in the Peak.~\
His while we are abroad,
Shall we not touch our Lyre ?
Shall we not sing an Ode ?
Shall that holy fire,
In us that strongly glowed,
In this cold air expire?
Long since the Summer laid
Her lusty bravery down ;
The Autumn half is weighed,
And BOREAS 'gins to frown :
Since now I did behold
Great BRUTE'S first builded town.
Though in the utmost Peak,
A while we do remain ;
Amongst the mountains bleak,
Exposed to sleet and rain :
No sport our hours shall break,
To exercise our vein.
M. Drayton.T
i6o6.J
ODES.
What though bright PHCEBUS' beams
Refresh the southern ground ;
And though the princely Thames
With beauteous Nymphs abound ;
And by old Camber's streams
Be many wonders found :
Yet many rivers clear
Here glide in silver swathes ;
And what of all most dear,
Buxton's delicious baths,
Strong ale, and noble cheer,
T'assuage breem Winter's scathes.
Those grim and horrid caves,
Whose looks affright the day ;
Wherein nice Nature saves
What she would not bewray :
Our better leisure craves,
And doth invite our Lay.
In places far, or near,
Or famous, or obscure ;
Where wholesome is the air,
Or where the most impure ;
All times, and everywhere,
The Muse is still in ure.
ODE 8.
ING we the Rose !
Than which no flower there grows
Is sweeter ;
And aptly her compare
With what in that is rare-:
A parallel none meeter.
542 ODES.
Or made posies,
Of this that encloses
Such blisses :
That naturally flusheth,
As she blusheth
When she is robbed of kisses.
Or if strewed,
When with the morning dewed ;
Or stilling ;
Or how to sense exposed :
All which in her enclosed,
Each place with sweetness filling.
That most renowned
By Nature richly crowned
With yellow ;
Of that delicious lair :
And as pure her hair,
Unto the same the fellow.
Fearing of harm ;
Nature that flower doth arm
From danger :
The touch gives her offence,
But with reverence
Unto herself, a stranger.
The red, or white,
Or mixed, the sense delight,
Beholding,
In her complexion :
All which perfection,
Such harmony infolding,
That divided,
Ere it was decided
Which most pure,
Began the grievous War
Of YORK and LANCASTER,
That did many years endure.
M. Drayton."!
1606. J
ODES.
Conflicts as great
As were in all that heat,
I sustain :
By her, as many hearts
As men on either parts,
That with her eyes hath slain.
The Primrose flower,
The first of FLORA'S bower
Is placed :
So is She first, as best :
Though excellent the rest ;
All gracing, by none graced.
543
ODE 9.
[A SkeltoniadJ]
HE Muse should be sprightly;
Yet not handling lightly
Things grave : as much loath
Things that be slight, to cloathe
Curiously. To retain
The Comeliness in mean
Is true Knowledge and Wit.
Nor me forced rage doth fit,
That I thereto should lack
Tobacco, or need Sack ;
Which to the colder brain
Is the true Hippocrene.
Nor did I ever care
For Great Fools, nor them spare.
Virtue, though neglected,
Is not so dejected
As vilely to descend
To low baseness, their end :
Neither each rhyming slave
544
ODES.
Deserves the name to have
Of Poet. So, the rabble
Of Fools, for the table,
That have their jests by heart,
As an Actor his part,
Might assume them chairs
Amongst the Muses' heirs.
Parnassus is not clomb
By every such Mome :
Up whose steep side who swerves,
It behoves t' have strong nerves.
My resolution such
How well, and not how much,
To write. Thus do I fare
Like some few good, that care
(The evil sort among)
How well to live, and not how long.
[M. Drayton.
1606.
ODE 10.
[His Defence against the idle Critic^
HE Ryme nor mars, nor makes ;
Nor addeth it, nor takes,
From that which we propose :
Things imaginary
Do so strangely vary
That quickly we them lose.
A id what Js quickly begot,
As soon again is not ;
This do I truly know.
Yea, and what 's born with pain ;
That, Sense doth long'st retain,
Gone with a greater flow.
M. Drayton.T O n TT <! C/l C
^ i6o6.J vj D E s. 545
Yet this Critic so stern,
(But whom, none must discern
Nor perfectly have seeing)
Strangely lays about him,
As nothing without him
Were worthy of being,
That I myself betray
To that most public way ;
Where the World's old bawd
Custom, that doth humour,
And by idle rumour,
Her dotages applaud.
That whilst she still prefers
Those that be wholly hers,
Madness and Ignorance ;
I creep behind the Time,
From spertling with their crime ;
And glad too with my chance.
O wretched World the while,
When the evil most vile
Beareth the fairest face ;
And inconstant lightness,
With a scornful slightness,
The best things doth disgrace \
Whilst this strange knowing beast,
Man ; of himself the least,
His envy declaring,
Makes Virtue to descend,
Her title to defend
Against him ; much preparing.
Yet these me not delude,
Nor from my place extrude,
By their resolved hate ;
Their vileness that do know :
Which to myself I show,
To keep above my fate.
ENG. GAR. viii. 35
546
ODES.
J-H.
Dray ton.
1606.
ODE n.
To the Virginian Voyage.
Ou brave heroic minds,
Worthy your country's name,
That Honour still pursue ;
Go and subdue !
Whilst loitering hinds
Lurk here at home with shame.
Britans, you stay too long ;
Quickly aboard bestow you !
And with a merry gale
Swell your stretched sail !
With vows as strong
As the winds that blow you.
Your course securely steer,
West-and-by-South forth keep !
Rocks, Lee-shores, nor Shoals,
When EOLUS scowls,
You need not fear !
So absolute the deep.
And cheerfully at sea,
Success you still entice,
To get the pearl and gold ;
And ours to hold,
Virginia,
Earth's only Paradise.
Where Nature hath in store
Fowl, venison, and fish :
And the fruitful soil ;
Without your toil,
Three harvests more,
All greater than your wish.
M. Drayton."! (~) n v q - . ^
i6o6.J ^ L) s s. 547
And the ambitious vine
Crowns, with his purple mass,
The cedar reaching high
To kiss the sky.
The cypress, pine,
And useful sassafras.
To whose, the Golden Age
Still Nature's laws doth give :
No other cares that tend,
But them to defend
From winter's age,
That long there doth not live.
When as the luscious smell
Of that delicious land,
Above the seas that flows,
The clear wind throws,
Your hearts to swell,
Approaching the dear strand.
In kenning of the shore
(Thanks to GOD first given ! )
O you, the happiest men,
Be frolic then !
Let cannons roar !
Frightening the wide heaven.
And in regions far,
Such heroes bring ye forth
As those from whom We came !
And plant our name
Under that Star
Not known unto our North !
And as there plenty grows
Of laurel everywhere,
APOLLO'S sacred tree ;
You it may see
A Poet's brows
To crown, that may sing there.
548
ODES.
Thy Voyages attend,
Industrious HAKLUYT !
Whose reading shall inflame
Men to seek fame ;
And much commend
To after Times thy wit
r
:. Drayton.
1606.
ODE 12.
To the Cambro-Britans and their Harp, his
Ballad of Agincourt.
[Besides this Ballad : MICHAEL DRAYTON published, in 1627, a much
longer Poem upon this celebrated Battle.]
AIR stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance ;
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry.
But putting to the main ;
At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train
Landed King HARRY.
And taking many a fort
Furnished in warlike sort,
Marcheth towards Agincourt
In happy hour ;
Skirmishing, day by day,
With those that stopped his way,
Where the French General lay
With all his Power.
Which, in his height of pride,
King HENRY to deride ;
His ransom to provide,
To the King sending.
M-DraytonJ Q D
Which he neglects the while,
As from a nation vile ;
Yet, with an angry smile,
Their fall portending.
And turning to his men,
Quoth our brave HENRY then :
" Though they to one be ten
Be not amazed !
Yet have we well begun :
Battles so bravely won
Have ever to the sun
By Fame been raised ! "
" And for myself," quoth he,
" This my full rest shall be :
England ne'er mourn for me,
Nor more esteem me !
Victor I will remain,
Or on this earth lie slain :
Never shall She sustain
Loss to redeem me !
" Poitiers and Cressy tell,
When most their pride did swell,
Under our swords they fell.
No less our skill is,
Than when our Grandsire great,
Claiming the regal seat,
By many a warlike feat
Lopped the French lillies."
The Duke of YORK so dread
The eager Vanward led ;
With the Main, HENRY sped
Amongst his henchmen :
EXETER had the Rear,
A braver man not there !
O Lord, how hot they were
On the false Frenchmen !
550
ODES.
They now to fight are gone ;
Armour on armour shone ;
Drum now to drum did groan
To hear, was wonder.
That, with cries they make,
The very earth did shake ;
Trumpet, to trumpet spake ;
Thunder, to thunder.
Well it thine age became,
O noble ERPINGHAM !
Which didst the signal aim
To our hid forces :
When, from a meadow by,
Like a storm suddenly,
The English Archery
Stuck the French horses.
"M. Dray ton.
1606.
With Spanish yew so strong ;
Arrows a cloth-yard long,
That like to serpents stung,
Piercing the weather.
None from his fellow starts ;
But, playing manly parts,
And like true English hearts,
Stuck close together.
When down their bows they threw ;
And forth their bilbowes [swords] drew
And on the French they flew :
Not one was tardy.
Arms were from the shoulders sent
Scalps to the teeth were rent,
Down the French peasants went :
Our men were hardy.
This while our noble King,
His broad sword brandishing,
Down the French host did ding
As to o'erwhelm it.
ODES. 551
And many a deep wound lent ;
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent
Bruised his helmet.
GLOUCESTER that Duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,
For famous England stood
With his brave brother.
CLARENCE, in steel so bright,
Though but a Maiden Knight;
Yet in that furious fight,
Scarce such another !
WARWICK, in blood did wade ;
OXFORD, the foe invade,
And cruel slaughter made,
Still as they ran up.
SUFFOLK his axe did ply ;
BEAUMONT and WILLOUGHBY
Bare them right doughtily :
FERRERS, and FANHOPE.
Upon Saint CRISPIN'S Day,
Fought was this noble Fray ;
Which Fame did not delay
To England to carry.
O when shall English men
With such acts fill a pen ?
Or England breed again
Such a King HARRY ?
FINIS.
PREFACE TO THE ADDITIONAL ODES OF 1619.
To the worthy Knight, and my noble friend,
Sir HENRY GOOD ERE, a Gentleman of
His Majesty s Privy Chamber.
HESE Lyric pieces, short, and few,
Most worthy Sir, I send to you ;
To read them be not weary !
They may become JOHN HEWES his lyre,
Which oft, at Poles worth,* by the fire,
Hath made us gravely merry.
Believe it, he must have the trick
Of Ryming, with Invention quick,
That should do Lyrics well :
But how I have done in this kind,
Though in myself I cannot find,
Your judgment best can tell.
Th' old British Bards (upon their harps
For falling Flats, and rising Sharps,
That curiously were strung)
To stir their Youth to warlike rage,
Or their wild fury to assuage,
In these loose Numbers sung.
No more I, for fools' censure pass,
Than for the braying of an ass ;
Nor once mine ear will lend them :
If you but please to take in gree
These Odes, sufficient 'tis to me :
Your liking can commend them.
Yours,
MICHAEL DRAYTON.
* In Warwickshire.
ODES,
WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES.
To his Valentine.
USE, bid the Morn awake !
Sad Winter now declines,
Each bird doth choose a Make ;
This day 's Saint VALENTINE'S.
For that good Bishop's sake
Get up, and let us see
What Beauty it shall be
That Fortune us assigns !
But, lo, in happy hour,
The place wherein she lies ;
In yonder climbing Tower,
Gilt by the glitt'ring Rise !
O, JOVE, that in a shower
(As once that Thunderer did,
When he in drops lay hid)
That I could, her surprise !
Her canopy I'll draw,
With spangled plumes bedight :
No mortal ever saw
So ravishing a sight ;
That it the Gods might awe,
And pow'rfully transpierce
The globy Universe,
Outshooting every light.
My lips I'll softly lay
Upon her heavenly cheek,
Dyed like the dawning day,
As polished ivory sleek ;
And in her ear I'll say :
" O thou bright Morning Star !
'Tis I, that come so far,
My Valentine to seek.
" Each little bird, this tide,
Doth choose her loved pheere ;
554 ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES.
Which constantly abide
In wedlock all the year,
As Nature is their guide ;
So may we Two be true
This year, nor change for new ;
As turtles coupled were.
" The sparrow, swan, the dove,
Though VENUS' birds they be ;
Yet are they not for love,
So absolute as we !
For reason us doth move ;
But they by billing woo.
Then try what we can do !
To whom each sense is free.
" Which we have more than they,
By livelier organs swayed ;
Our Appetite each way
More by our Sense obeyed.
Our Passions to display,
This season us doth fit ;
Then let us follow it,
As Nature us doth lead !
" One kiss in two let 's breathe !
Confounded with the touch,
But half words let us speak !
Our lips employed so much,
Until we both grow weak :
With sweetness of thy breath,
O smother me to death !
Long let our joys be such !
" Let 's laugh at them that choose
Their Valentines by lot ;
To wear their names that use,
Whom idly they have got."
Saint VALENTINE, befriend !
We thus this Morn may spend :
Else, Muse, awake her not !
M. Dayton.] QoES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES.
The Heart,
F thus we needs must go ;
What shall our one Heart do,
This One made of our Two ?
Madam, two Hearts we brake ;
And from them both did take
The best, one Heart to make.
Half this is of your Heart,
Mine in the other part ;
Joined by an equal Art.
Were it cemented, or sewn ;
By shreds or pieces known,
We might each find our own.
But 'tis dissolved and fixed ;
And with such cunning mixed,
No diff'rence that betwixt.
But how shall we agree,
By whom it kept shall be :
Whether by you or me ?
It cannot two breasts fill ;
One must be heart-less still,
Until the other will.
It came to me to-day :
When I willed it to say,
With Whether would it stay ?
It told me, " In your breast,
Where it might hope to rest :
For if it were my guest,
" For certainty, it knew
That I would still anew
Be sending it to you ! "
555
556 ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES.
Never, I think, had two
Such work, so much, to do :
A Unity to woo !
Yours was so cold and chaste :
Whilst mine with zeal did waste ;
Like Fire with Water placed.
How did my Heart intreat !
How pant ! How did it beat,
Till it could give yours heat !
Till to that temper brought,
Through our perfection wrought,
That blessing cither's thought.
In such a height it lies
From this base World's dull eyes ;
That Heaven it not envies.
All that this Earth can show,
Our Heart shall not once know !
For it's too vile and low.
The Sacrifice to APOLLO.
RlESTS of APOLLO, sacred be the room
For this learned meeting ! Let no barbarous groom,
How brave soe'er he be,
Attempt to enter !
But of the Muses free,
None here may venture !
This for the Delphian Prophets is prepared :
The profane Vulgar are from hence debarred !
M'Dra?6°9.'] ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES. 557
And since the Feast so happily begins ;
Call up those fair Nine, with their violins !
They are begot by JOVE.
Then let us place them
Where no clown in may shove,
That may disgrace them :
But let them near to young APOLLO sit ;
So shall his foot-pace overflow with wit.
Where be the Graces ? Where be those fair Three ?
In any hand, they may not absent be !
They to the Gods are dear :
And they can humbly
Teach us, ourselves to bear,
And do things comely.
They, and the Muses, rise both from one stem :
They grace the Muses ; and the Muses, them.
Bring forth your flagons, filled with sparkling wine
(Whereon swollen BACCHUS, crowned with a vine,
Is graven) ; and fill out !
It well bestowing
To every man about,
In goblets flowing !
Let not a man drink, but in draughts profound !
To our god PHOZBUS, let the Health go round !
Let your Jests fly at large ; yet therewithal
See they be Salt, but yet not mixed with Gall !
Not tending to disgrace :
But fairly given,
Becoming well the place,
Modest and even,
That they, with tickling pleasure, may provoke
Laughter in him on whom the Jest is broke.
Or if the deeds of Heroes ye rehearse :
Let them be sung in so well-ordered Verse,
That each word have its weight,
Yet run with pleasure !
558 ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES. [M> Drai6i£
Holding one stately height
In so brave measure
That they may make the stiffest storm seem weak ;
And damp JOVE'S thunder, when it loud'st doth speak.
And if ye list to exercise your vein,
Or in the Sock, or in the Buskined strain ;
Let Art and Nature go
One with the other !
Yet so, that Art may show
Nature her mother :
The thick-brained audience lively to awake,
Till with shrill claps the Theatre do shake.
Sing Hymns to BACCHUS then, with hands upreared !
Offer to JOVE, who most is to be feared !
From him the Muse we have.
From him proceedeth
More than we dare to crave.
'Tis he that feedeth
Them, whom the World would starve. Then let the lyre
Sound ! whilst his altars endless flames expire.
To his Rival.
ER loved I most,
By thee that 's lost,
Though she were won with leisure ;
She was my gain :
But to my pain,
Thou spoilest me of my treasure.
The ship full fraught
With gold, far sought,
Though ne'er so wisely helmed,
May suffer wrack
In sailing back,
By tempest overwhelmed.
M'Drai6°£] ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES. 559
But She, good Sir !
Did not prefer
You, for that I was ranging :
But for that She
Found faith in me,
And She loved to be changing.
Therefore boast not
Your happy lot ;
Be silent now you have her !
The time I knew
She slighted you,
When I was in her favour.
None stands so fast
But may be cast
By Fortune, and disgraced :
Once did I wear
Her garter there,
Where you her glove have placed.
I had the vow
That thou hast now,
And glances to discover
Her love to me ;
And She to thee,
Reads but old lessons over.
She hath no smile
That can beguile ;
But, as my thought, I know it :
Yea to a hair,
Both when, and where,
And how, she will bestow it.
What now is thine
Was only mine,
And first to me was given ;
Thou laugh'st at me !
I laugh at thee !
And thus we two are even.
560 ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES.
But I'll not mourn,
But stay my turn ;
The wind may come about, Sir !
And once again
May bring me in ;
And help to bear you out, Sir !
[M-Dra*6°£
The Crier.
OOD folk, for gold or hire,
But help me to a Crier !
For my poor Heart is run astray
After two Eyes, that passed this way.
Oh yes ! O yes ! O yes !
If there be any man,
In town or country, can
Bring me my Heart again ;
I'll please him for his pain.
And by these marks, I will you show
That only I this Heart do owe [own]
It is a wounded Heart,
Wherein yet sticks the dart.
Every piece sore hurt throughout it :
Faith and Troth writ round about it.
It was a tame Heart, and a dear ;
And never used to roam :
But having got this haunt, I fear
Twill hardly stay at home.
For God's sake, walking by the way,
If you my Heart do see ;
Either impound it for a Stray,
Or send it back to me !
M. Drayton.j ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES. 561
To his coy Love.
A Canzonet
PRAY thee leave ! Love me no more !
Call home the heart you gave me !
I but in vain that Saint adore
That can, but will not, save me.
These poor half kisses kill me quite !
Was ever man thus served ?
Amidst an ocean of delight,
For pleasure to be starved.
Show me no more those snowy breasts
With azure riverets branched !
Where whilst mine Eye with plenty feeds,
Yet is my thirst not staunched.
O TANTALUS, thy pains ne'er tell !
By me thou art prevented :
'Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell ;
But, thtis, in Heaven, tormented !
Clip me no more in those dear arms ;
Nor thy " Life's Comfort " call me !
O these are but too powerful charms ;
And do but more enthrall me.
But see how patient I am grown,
In all this coil about thee !
Come, nice Thing, let thy heart alone !
I cannot live without thee !
A Hymn to his Lady's Birth-place.
|OVENTRY, that dost adorn
The country [County} wherein I was born :
Yet therein lies not thy praise ;
Why I should crown thy Towers with bays ?
'Tis not thy Wall, me to thee weds ; Coventry
Thy Ports ; nor thy proud Pyramids ; fine'y walled-
ENG. GAR VIII. ,6
562 ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES. [M'Drai£
The shoulder- Nor thy trophies of the Boar :
of mighty B°ar But that She which I adore,
bigness. (Which scarce Goodness's self can pair)
First there breathing, blest thy air.
IDEA ; in which name I hide
Her, in my heart deified.
For what good, Man's mind can see ;
Only her ideas be :
She, in whom the Virtues came
In Woman's shape, and took her name.
She so far past imitation
As (but Nature our creation
Could not alter) she had aimed
More than Woman to have framed.
She whose truly written story,
To thy poor name shall add more glory,
Than if it should have been thy chance
T' have bred our Kings that conquered France.
Had she been born the former Age,
TWO famous That house had been a Pilgrimage ;
Pilgrimages: And reputed more Divine
one in Norfolk, _,, TiT , . , _ , r,1
the other in 1 han Walsmgham, or BECKETs bhnne.
Kent.
LEOFR?c-sDuke That Princess, to whom thou dost owe
wife, who Thy Freedom (whose clear blushing snow
obtained the T-,, ' , ,
freedom of the I he envious sun saw ; when as she
±d°,fbhye±g Naked rode to make thee free),
nak°eudgh * ^as but ker type '• as to foretell
Thou shouldst bring forth One should excel
Her bounty ; by whom thou shouldst have
More Honour, than she Freedom gave.
Queen And that great Queen, which but of late
ELIZABETH. Ruled this land in peace and State,
Had not been ; but Heaven had sworn
A Maid should reign when She was born.
Of thy streets, which thou hold'st best,
And most frequent of the rest ;
Ttr.Draywn.-j ODES, WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES. 563
Happy Mich Park ! Every year, A "oted street
V i- i r \ i m Coventry.
On the Fourth of August there, HJS Mistress's
Let thy Maids, from FLORA'S bowers, birthdav-
With their choice and daintiest flowers
Deck thee up ! and from their store,
With brave garlands crown that door !
The old man passing by that way,
To his son, in time, shall say :
" There was that Lady born : which
Long to after Ages shall be sung."
Who, unawares being passed by,
Back to that house shall cast his eye ;
Speaking my verses as he goes,
And with a sigh shut every Close.
Dear City ! travelling by thee,
When thy rising Spires I see,
Destined her Place of Birth ;
Yet methinks the very earth
Hallowed is, so far as I
Can thee possibly descry.
Then thou, dwelling in this place,
(Hearing some rude hind disgrace
Thy city, with some scurvy thing
Which some Jester forth did bring)
Speak these Lines, where thou dost come,
And strike the slave for ever dumb.
THOMAS, third Lord FAIRFAX.
Short Memorials
of some things to be cleared
during my Command in the Army.
[1645 to 1650 A.D.]
[From the holograph,
now Fairfax MS. 36,
in the Bodleian Lib
rary, Oxford.]
[These Memorials are not written in a strictly chronological sequence.
They are of surpassing interest : being the recollections, about 1665, or
many stirring events in England between 1642 and 1650, by a chief
Actor in the same; whose personal motto was, Man DIEU,je sermrai
tant que je vivrai.]
Ow when GOD is visiting the nation [? an
allusion to the Plague of London in 1665]
for the transgressions of their ways, as
formerly he did to one sort of men so
doth he it to another sort ; so that all may
see their errors and his justice : and as we
have cause to implore his mercy, having
sinned against him ; so must we still vindi
cate his justice, who is always " clear when he judgeth."
[Ps. li. 4.]
Now therefore, by his grace and assistance, I shall truly
set down the grounds my actions moved upon during that
unhappy War ; and those actions which seemed to the
World the more questionable in my steering through the
turbulent and perilous seas of that time.
The first embarking into the sad calamities of War was
about the year 1641 when the general distemper of the Three
Kingdoms had kindled such a flame even in the hearts (I
Lord Ffir66s:] FERDINANDO, LORD FAIRFAX IN ARMS. 565
mean the Difference between the King and Parliament),
as every one sought to guard his own house by the authority
of both these. But the different judgements and ways were
so contrary that, before a remedy could be found out, almost
all was consumed to ashes.
I must needs say my judgement was for the Parliament,
as the King's, and Kingdom's, great and safest Council ; as
others were for the King, and averse to Parliament, as if
it could not go high enough for the Perogative.
Upon which division, different Powers were set up, viz. :
The Commission of Array for the King ; and [the Militia
for] the Parliament. But those of the Array so exceeded
their Commission by oppressing many honest people ; whom,
by way of reproach, they called Roundheads : they being
(for Religion, Estates, and Interest) a very considerable part
of the country ; that occasioned them to take up arms in
their own defence, which was afterwards confirmed by Par
liamentary authority.
Now my father being yet at his house at Denton, where I
then waited on him, though he had notice from his friends
that it was resolved that he should be sent for, as a prisoner,
to York : yet he resolved not to stir from his own house ;
not knowing anything in himself to deserve it. But the
country \Yorkshire\ suffering daily more and more, many
were forced to come and intreat him to join with them in
defence of themselves and country [ Yorkshire}; which [were]
being sadly oppressed by those of the Array, which after
wards had the name of Cavaliers.
And being much importuned by those that were about
him ; he was resolved, seeing his country [ Yorkshire} in this
great distress, to run the same hazard with them for the pre
servation of it.
Then did the Parliament grant a Commission to him, to
be General of the Forces in the North : myself also having
a Commission under him, to be General of the Horse. But
it is not my intention, in this place, to mention the several
Services that were done in this Cause of the Parliament :
being rather desirous to clear my actions in it than to declare
them. Therefore I shall say no more [See however pp. 577-
610] of this Three Years' War in the North ; there being
566 FAIRFAX MADE GENERAL OF THE ARMY. [Lord Ff ^
nothing, I thank GOD ! in all that time to be alleged
against me.
But now I shall come to say something how I came to be
engaged in the South.
There being some years spent, in those parts, in a linger
ing War between the forces of the King and [the] Parlia
ment ; and several battles so equally fought, as could scarce
be known on which side the business in dispute would be
determined ; though it must be confessed the Parliament's
Army was under the command of a very noble and gallant
person, [ROBERT DEVEREUX] the Earl of ESSEX : yet find
ing Time and Delay gaining more advantage on their affairs
than Force had done ; the Parliament resolved to make a
change in the constitution of their Army ; hoping by it to
find a change also in businesses, which were then something
in a declining condition.
So as, in this distemper of affairs, the Army was New
Modelled ; and a new General was proposed to command it.
For which, by the Votes of the Two Houses of Parliament
[in February 1645], myself was nominated ; though most
unfit : and so far from desiring of it, that had not so great an
authority commanded obedience, [I also] being then un-
separated from the royal Interest ; besides the persuasions
of nearest friends, not to decline so free and general a Call ;
I should have " hid myself [among the stuff," I Samuel x.
22.] to have avoided so great a charge. But whether it was
from a natural facility in me, that betrayed my modesty ; or
the powerful hand of GOD, which all things must obey : I
was induced to receive the Command.
Then was I immediately voted by the Parliament [in
February 1645], to come to London to take up my charge
\wherehearrivedon \^>th February 1645]; though not fully
recovered of a dangerous wound, which I had received a
little before ; and which, I verily believe, without the miracu
lous hand of GOD had proved mortal.
But here, alas ! when I bring to mind the sad consequences
that designing men have brought to pass since, from these
first innocent undertakings, I am ready to let go that confi
dence I had, with JOB to say : " Till I die, I will not remove
u"drft«s!~l OPPOSITION TO NEW MODELLED ARMY. 567
my integrity from me ; nor shall my heart reproach me s&
long as I live" \_Job xxvii. 5]. But now more fit to take up
his Complaint with a little alteration and to say, Why did I
not die when I had that hurt ? Why did I not give up the
ghost when my life was on the confines of the grave ? [See
Job x. 1 8.]
But GOD having been pleased thus to give me my life as
a prey ; I took my journey southward : hoping I might be
someway serviceable to the Public. But when I came
thither, had it not been in the simplicity of my heart, I could
not have supported myself under the frowns and displeasures
showed me by those who were disgusted at this alteration ;
in which many of them were themselves so much concerned :
and these did not only outwardly express it, but sought by all
means to obstruct my proceedings in this new charge. Who
though they could not prevent what the necessity of affairs
pressed most to do, viz. : To march speedily out with the
Army ; yet were we, by them, made so inconsiderable for
want of fit and necessary accommodations, as it rather
seemed that we were sent to be destroyed and ruined
than to do any service for the Kingdom by it. Insomuch
as when I went to take my leave of a Great Person \Can this
have been DENZIL HOLLES 7\ ; he told me, He was very sorry
I was going out with the Army, for he did believe we should
be beaten.
Surely then had some of our ends been Self Interest
merely, this might have discouraged us : but it working no
such effects, gave the more hopes of future success ; as it did
to the Parliament's advantage. But if any ill use hath been
made of such mercies, let the mercies be acknowledged from
GOD : but let the abuses receive their due reward of shame
and punishment.
Thus, being led on by good success, and clear intentions
of a Public Good ; some of us could not discern the serpent
which was hid in these spreading leaves of so Good Fortune :
nor could believe the fruits of our hopes would prove as
cockatrice's eggs ; from whence so viperous a brood should
afterwards spring up.
But, how ill deserving so ever we were : yet still it pleased
GOD to give the Army such success in the years [i6J45 and
568 THE ARMY APPOINT ADJUTATORS.
[i6]46 ; that there remained in England neither Army nor
fortress to oppose the Parliament in settling the peace of
the Kingdom.
But this shining mercy soon became clouded with the
mists of abominable hypocrisy [and] deceit ; even in those
men, who had been instrumental in bringing this War to a
conclusion. Here was the vertical point on which the
Army's honour and reputation turned into reproach and
scandal. Here the power of the Army, which I once had,
was usurped by the Forerunners of Confusion and Anarchy,
viz.: the Agitators. \The Army appointed a Committee of
Adjutators on i^th May 1647.]
My Commission as General bound me to act with [the
co-operation of my] Council : but the arbitrary and unlimited
power of this new Council would act without a General : and
all that I could do, could not prevail against this stream ;
especially when the Parliament itself became divided, so
that the pay was withheld from the Army, which heightened
their distempers.
Then followed, Free Quarter [in November 1647] ; and
that brought a general discontent through the whole nation :
which gave these factious Agitators matter enough for the
carrying on of their designs ; viz., To raise their own fortunes
by the ruin of others.
But now, being much troubled to see things in this condi
tion, I did rather desire to be a sufferer than to be a Com
mander: but, before I laid down my Commission, I thought
it fit to consult with some friends rather than gratify my
private sense and reason, which much desired it ; especially
having received it from a Public Authority, which might
justly expect to have notice of it before I laid it down.
Which was the cause of my continuing in the Army longer
than I would have done (seeing I could not have my desire
granted) : which did indeed preserve the Parliament for some
time, from those confusions and breakings, which afterwards
Time and Confidence emboldened these men to.
But now I shall descend to some particulars of their
Agitation :
At Nottingham was the first time that I took notice of it,
by the soldiers' meetings to frame a Petition to the Parliament
£] FAIRFAX ANXIOUS FOR HIS DISCHARGE. 569
about their arrears [of pay]. The thing seemed just : but,
not liking the way, I spake with some Officers that were
principally engaged in it ; and got it suppressed for that
time.
Which was but as the cutting off of Hydra's head, which
soon sprang up again (though not so near the Head Quarters ;
but in more remote corners of the Army, which I could not
so timely prevent) so that they presented it to the Parlia
ment ; which they were highly displeased with. And now
falling into difference[s] ; the consequence of which proved
fatal not only to the King, but also destructive to one another.
The one striving to uphold his authority : the other (who had
a spirit of unsettlement) to preserve themselves from the ruin
they feared. This (with a natural inclination to change) I
believe created the thoughts of a New Government ; which,
in time, attained the name of a Common Wealth : though
it never arrived to the perfection of it ; being sometimes
Democratical, sometimes Oligarchial, lastly Anarchial — as
indeed all the ways attaining to it seemed nothing but a
Confusion.
For now the Officers of the Army were placed and dis
placed by the will of the new Agitators ; who, with violence,
so carried all things, as it was above my power to restrain
it. This made me have recourse to my friends to get me a
discharge of my Command ; so as there was a consultation
with several Members of Parliament, who met about it : but
none would undertake to move it to the House, as affairs
then stood. And they perceiving that such a Motion would
be unpleasing to them : which was the answer I received
from them. And further that I should satisfy myself: for
it would be the Parliament's care to compose all things in as
good order as might be most for the good and settlement of
the Kingdom. But these hopes, though they something
supported my spirit ; yet could not they balance the grief
and trouble I had, that I could not get my discharge. So
that, if you find me carried on with this stream ; I can truly
say, It was by the violence of it, and no consent of mine.
But the Army, having gotten this power and strength by
correspondence with some in Parliament (who themselves
did after find it [to their disadvantage] in the end) they] the
570 THE SECOND WAR OF 1648. [Lord FaiIr££
Army\ march nearer London [26th June 1647] : and, at
Windsor [2Oth November 1647], after two days' debate in a
Council of War, it was resolved to remove all out of the
House [of Commons] whom they conceived to "obstruct,''
as they called it, " the Public Settlement"
Upon which expedition in this march, I was vehemently
pressed : but here I resolved to use a restrictive power, when
I had not a persuasive one. So when the Lieutenant General
[OLIVER CROMWELL] and others pressed me to sign orders
for marching, I still delayed the doing of it [in November
1647] ; as always dreading the consequences of breaking
Parliament, and at a time when the Kingdom was falling
into a new War : which was so near, that my delaying but
three or four days giving out Orders, diverted this humour
of the Army from being Statesmen to their more proper
duty of soldiers.
For, even then, Colonel POYER declared [for the King] in
Wales ; great forces were raised with the Lord GORING in
Kent ; and Duke [of] HAMILTON (almost at the same time)
with a powerful Army of the Scots. All which set out work
enough for that summer [of 1648].
This I write to shew how, by Providence, a few days' delay
did prolong the Parliament more than a year from the violent
breaches that afterwards happened to them.
Here again might be mentioned the great and difficult
businesses the Army went through that year [1648] : hoping,
as well aiming, it would be a good service to the Kingdom.
But, seeing the factious Party grew more insolent as success
made them more powerful, I shall forbear to relate those
Actions ; which would, otherwise, have deserved a better
remembrance than, in modesty, [it] were fit for me to record:
and [I] will rather punish myself here, with the continuance
of the Story of the Army's Irregularities.
But one thing, of very great concernment in all after
changes, should have been inserted before the mention of
this Second War : but [it] will come in well enough in this
place, without much interruption of this Discourse, viz.:
THE KING'S REMOVAL FROM HOLMBY,
the sad consequences whereof fill my heart with grief with?.
Lord Fairfax. -J (CHARLES I. SEIZED AT HOLMBY HOUSE. 571
the remembrance of it now ; as it did then, with thoughts
and care how to have prevented it.
Being then at Saffron Walden in Essex, I had notice that
Cornet JOYCE (an arch-Agitator that quartered about Oxford)
had [on 4th June 1647] seized on the King's person, and
removed his Quarters : and [had] given such a check to the
Commissioners of Parliament which were ordered to attend
His Majesty, that they refused to act any further in their
Commission ; being so unwarrantably interrupted.
But, as soon as I heard it, I immediately sent away two
Regiments of Horse, commanded by Colonel WHALLEY to
remove this force ; and to set all things again in their due
order and course.
But before he reached Holmby [or Holdenby] ; the King
was advanced two or three miles [from thence] on his way
towards Cambridge ; attended by JOYCE. Here Colonel
WHALLEY acquainted the King, That he was sent by the
General to let him know how much he was troubled at
those great insolencies that had been committed so near his
person : and as he had not the least knowledge of it before
it was done, so he had omitted no time in seeking to remove
the force ; which he had orders from me to see done. And
therefore [Colonel WHALLEY] desired that His Majesty would
be pleased to return again to Holmby, where all things should
again be settled in as much order and quietness as they were
before. And also he \Colonel WHALLEY] desired the Com
missioners to resume their Charge, as the Parliament had
directed them : which he had in charge also to desire them
to do, from the General.
But the King refused to return ; and the Commissioners
refused also to act any more as Commissioners. Which
Colonel WHALLEY still further urged, saying, He had an
express command to see all things well settled again about
His Majesty ; which could not be but by his returning again
to Holmby.
Which the King said positively, He would not do.
So Colonel WHALLEY pressed him no further : having
indeed a special direction from me to use all tenderness
and respect, as was due, towards His Majesty.
So the King came that night, or the second [6th June
572 INCREASING CONFUSION OF THE NATION.
1647] to Sir JOHN CUTT'S house [at Childerley] near
Cambridge : where, the next day, I waited on His Majesty.
It being also my business to persuade his return to Holmby.
But he was otherwise resolved.
I pressed the Commissioners also to act again, according
to the power that Parliament had given them : which they
also refused to do.
So having spent the whole day [7th June 1647] about this
business ; I returned to my Quarters.
But before I took my leave of the King, he said to me,
<{ Sir, I have as great an Interest in the Army as you." By
which I plainly saw the broken reed he leaned upon.
These Agitators [or Adjutators], chameleon-like, could
change into that colour which best served their ends ; and
so had brought the King into an opinion that the Army was
for him : though [it was] never less for his safety and rights,
than when it was theirs.
And that it might appear what real trouble this act was to
me ; notwithstanding the Army was almost wholly infected
with the humour of Agitation, I called for a Court of War, to
proceed against JOYCE for this high offence, and the breach
of the Articles of War. But the Officers (whether for fear
of the distempered soldiers ; or rather, as I fear, from a secret
allowance of what was done) made all my endeavours herein
ineffectual : and now (no punishment being able to reach
them) all affairs steer after this compass :
The King and all his Party are in hopes. Those of the
Parliament, and others who kept to their Covenant Interest,
in fears. So as, for many months, Public Councils were
turned into private Junto's. Which would have been less
criminal, if it had ended in General Consent. But, on the
contrary, it begat greater emulations and jealousies one of
another. So that the Army would not entrust the King any
longer with the liberty he had ; nor would the Parliament
suffer the King to undertake that which was properly their
work to do, viz. : [the] Settling [of] the Kingdom with its just
rights and liberties. And the Army were as jealous of the
Parliament, that they [the Parliament] would not have care
enough of their [the Army's] security.
Lord Fairfax.j FAIRFAX IGNORANT OF PRIDE'S PURGE. 573;
All things growing worse and worse made the King
endeavour his own escape, as he did [nth-i4th November
1647] I but out of a larger confinement at Hampton Court,
to a straiter one in the Isle of Wight.
Here the Parliament treated upon Propositions of Peace
with the King. But, alas, the Envious One sowed tares
that could not be rooted out, without plucking up the corn
also.
And .here was the King, as the golden ball, tossed before
the two great Parties ; the Parliament, and the Army :
[which] grew to a great contest, which must again have
involved the kingdom in blood.
But the Army, having the greater power, got the King^
again into their hands ; notwithstanding all the means that
could be used. The Treaty \? of Newport, ? October 1648]
was scarcely ended, before the King was seized upon by the
hands of the same person, Lieutenant Colonel COBBETT,
who took him from Holmby [ ; and who now removed him,
on ist December 1648, from Carisbrooke Castle to Hurst
Castle\ Soon after followed his Trial.
But to prepare a way to this work [the Triat\ this Agitating
Council had thought first how to remove out of the Par
liament all those who were likely to oppose them in that
work ; which they carried on with that secrecy as that I had
not the least intimation of it, till it was done: as some
Members of the House can witness, with whom I was met,
at that very time, upon especial business, when that horrible
attempt was made by Colonel PRIDE upon the Parliament
[on 6th December 1648]. It was so secretly carried on that
I should get no notice of it: because I always prevented
those designs when I knew of them. But by this " Purging
of the House," as they called it, the Parliament was brought
into such a consumptive and languishing condition as that it
could never recover again that healthful Constitution which
always kept the Kingdom in its strength and vigour.
But now, this Three-fold Cord being cut by the sword, the
Trial of the King was the easier for them to accomplish.
My afflicted and troubled mind for it, and my earnest
endeavours to prevent it, will, I hope, sufficiently testify
my abhorrence of the fact. And what might they not now
574 COLCHESTER SURRENDERED UPON MERCY. [LoidFftS*
do to the lower shrubs, having thus cut down the cedar?
For, after this, [the] Duke [of] HAMILTON, [the] Earl of
HOLLAND, and Lord CAPEL, and others, were condemned
to death.
But here it is fit to say something for my own vindication
about my Lord CAPEL, Sir CHARLES LUCAS, and Sir
GEORGE LISLE ; who were prisoners at mercy upon the
rendition of Colchester: seeing some have questioned the
just performance of those Articles [of Sttrrender}.
I (having laid siege to the town, and several assaults being
made upon it) finding their forces within [to be] much more
numerous than those I had without, forced me to take another
course : blocking them up ; and so, by cutting off all supplies,
to bring them to a surrender. Which, after [a] four months'
siege, they were necessitated to ; and that upon mercy : they
being between 3,000 and 4,000 men.
Now by Delivering upon mercy is to be understood, that
some are to suffer, and the rest to go free.
So those forementioned persons only were to suffer ; and
all the rest freed.
So immediately after our entrance into the town [on 26th
August 1648], a Council of War being called ; those persons
were sentenced to die, the rest to be quit.
Yet, on they being so resolved, I thought fit to manumit
the Lord CAPEL, the Lord NORWICH, &c. over to the Parlia--
ment (being the Civil Judicature of the Kingdom, consisting
then of Lords and Commons) as the most proper Judges of
their cases : being considerable for estates and families.
But Sir CHARLES LUCAS and Sir GEORGE LISLE being
mere Soldiers of Fortune ; and falling into our hands by the
chance of war, execution was done upon them. And in this
distribution of Justice I did nothing but according to my
Commission, and the trust reposed in me.
But it may be objected that I went into the Court during
the Trial.
To this, I answer. It was upon the earnest entreaties of
my Lord CAPEL'S friends ; who desired me to explain there,
what I meant by Surrendering to mercy: otherwise I had
not gone, being always unsatisfied with the Court.
3Lord
Ff'S^:] THE ARMY ROOT UP KINGLY GOVERNMENT. 5 75
But for this I shall need to say no more : seeing I may as
well be questioned for the A rticles of Bristol, Oxford, Exeter;
•or [for] any other Action in the War, as for this.
And now I have related the most remarkable things that
might be alleged against me during the prosecution of the
War.
Yet one thing more requires that I should say something
to it, before I conclude, viz. : Concerning Papers and Decla
rations of the Army that came out in my name and the
Council of Officers. I must needs say. From the time they
declared their Usurped Authority at Triplow Heath [loth
June 1647], I never gave my free consent to anything they
did : but (being then undischarged of my place) they set my
hand [signature], by way of course, to all their Papers ;
whether I consented or not.
And unto such failings all Authority may fall. As some
times Kingly Authority may be abused to their, and the
Kingdom's, prejudice ; sometimes, under a Parliamentary
Authority, much injury hath been done : so here, hath a
General's Power been broken and crumbled into a Levelling
Faction, to the great unsettlement of the Nation.
Yet, even in this, I hope all impartial judges will interpret
as a force and ravishment of a good name ; rather than a
voluntary consent whereby it might make me seem to be
come equally criminal. Though I must confess, if in a
multitude of words, much more in a multitude of actions,
there may be some transgressions : yet, I can as truly say,
they were never designedly or wilfully committed by me.
But now, when all the power was got into the Army, they
cut up the root of Kingly Government After this, were
Engagements to relinquish the Title. Then [was] War
declared against Scotland for assisting the King [CHARLES
II.] : and several Leagues made with foreign Princes to con
federate with their new Government, which was now a
Common Wealth, against the Kingly Power.
Seeing which, with grief and sorrow, though I had as
much the love of the Army as ever ; though I was with
much importunity solicited by the remaining Parliament,
the Lieutenant General [OLIVER CROMWELL], and other
576 PUT LOYALTY AND CONSCIENCE FIRST! [Lold Ff 'l$%r
Officers and soldiers, to continue my Command ; and
though I might, so long as I acted their designs, attain to
the height of power and other advantages I pleased (for so I
understood from themselves) : yet (by the mercy and good
ness of GOD, ever valuing Loyalty and Conscience before
this perishing felicity) I did, so long as I continued in the
Army, oppose all those ways in their counsels ; and, when I
could do no more, I also declined their actions, though not
their Commission I had from the Parliament, till the remain
ing part of it, took it from me [25th June 1650].
Thus I have given you, in short, the sum of the most
considerable things that the World may censure me for,
during this unhappy War. Yet, I hope, among many weak
nesses and failings there shall not be found crimes of that
magnitude [for me] to be counted amongst those who have
done these things through ambition and dissimulation.
Hoping also that GOD will, one day, clear this Action we
undertook, so far as concerns his honour ; and the integrity
of such as faithfully served in it. For I cannot believe that
such wonderful successes shall be given in vain. Though
cunning and deceitful men must take shame to themselves ;
yet the purposes and determination of GOD shall have
happy effects to his glory, and the comfort of his people.
577
THOMAS, third Lord FAIRFAX.
A Short Memorial of the Northern Actions y
during the War there^
from the year 1642 till the year 1644.
DID not think to have taken up my pei
any more, to have written on this subject:
but that my silence seemed to accuse me
of ingratitude to GOD for the many
mercies and deliverances I have had ; and
of injuriousness to myself in losing the
comfort of them, by suffering them to be
buried in the grave of Oblivion in my
lifetime.
Wherefore I shall set down, as they come to my mind,
such things wherein I have found the wonderful assistance
of GOD to me in the time of the War I was in the North :
though not in that methodical and polished manner as might
have been done ; being but intended only for my own satis
faction, and the help of my memory.
As I said, in the First Part [p. 565], my father was called
forth by the importunity of the country [ Yorkshire}, to join
with them in the defence of themselves : and [was] confirmed
by a Commission of the Parliament [by Vote on the 2$rd
August 1642. He however did not actually receive the Com
mission till the yd December following^
The first Action we had was at Bradford, where we had
about 300 men. The Enemy, having about 700 or 800 and
ENG. GAR. VIII.
5/8 ACTIONS AT BRADFORD AND WETHERBY. [
Lord Fairfax.
? 1665.
2 pieces of ordnance, came thither to assault us [in October
1642]. We drew out close to the town to receive them.
They had [the] advantage of [the] ground, the town being
compassed with hills ; which made us more exposed to their
cannon shot, from which we received some hurt. Yet not
withstanding, our men defended the passages, which they
[the Enemy] were to descend, so well that they got no
ground of us. And now, the day being spent, they drew off;
and returned back again to Leeds.
A few days after, Captain HOTHAM, with 3 Troops of
. Horse and some Dragoons, came to me ; and then we
marched to Leeds. But the Enemy, having notice of it,
quitt[ed] the town in haste ; and fled to York.
And that we might have more room, and be less burthen-
some to our friends ; we presently advanced [in November
1642] to Tadcaster, 8 miles from York.
Now we being increased to 1,000 men, it was thought fit, for
securing of the West Riding, at least the greatest part of it,
from whence our greatest supply came, to keep the Pass at
Wetherby ; whither my father sent me with about 300 Foot
and 40 Horse. The Enemy's next design, from York, was
to fall on my Quarters there ; which was a place very open
and easy for them to do : there being so many back ways to
enter in ; and friends enough to direct and acquaint them
with all we did.
About six of the clock in the morning [in November 1642],
they set upon us with 800 Horse and Foot. The woods
thereabouts favoured them so much as that our Scouts could
get no notice of them ; so as no alarm was given till they
were ready to enter the town, which they might soon do for
the Guards were all asleep in houses.
For in the beginning of the War, men were as impatient
of Duty as ignorant of it.
Myself only was on horseback ; going out, at the other
end of the town, to Tadcaster : where my father lay.
One came running to me, and told me, The Enemy was
entering the town. I presently galloped to the Court of
Guard [the Piquet], where I found not above four men at
their arms ; as I remember, two Foot Sergeants and two
Lord Fairfax.-j A. SORE SCUFFLE BETWEEN LATE FRIENDS. 579
Pike men, [who] withstood with me when Sir THOMAS GLEN-
HAM, with about six or seven Commanders more, charged
us : where, after a short but sharp encounter, in which Major
CARR was slain, they retired. And in this time more of the
Guard were gotten to their arms. But I must confess I
know [of] no strength, but the powerful hand of GOD, that
gave them this repulse.
Afterward they made another attempt, in which Captain
ATKINSON was slain.
And here again, there fell out another remarkable Provi-
-dence. During this conflict, our Magazine was blown up :
which struck such a terror in the Enemy, thinking we had
cannon (which they were informed we had not), that they
instantly retreated. And though I had but a few Horse ;
they pursued the Enemy some miles, and took many
prisoners.
We lost about eight or ten men, whereof seven were
T}lown up with [the] powder : the Enemy, many more.*
At this time [HENRY CLIFFORD] the Earl of CUMBER
LAND commanded the Forces in Yorkshire for the King.
* Sir HENRY SLINGSBY gives the following Account of this Action:
My Lord of CUMBERLAND sent out Sir THOMAS GLENHAM once
again to beat up Sir THOMAS FAIRFAX'S Quarters at Wetherby : com
manding out a party both of Horse and Dragoons. He comes close up
to the town, undiscovered, a little before sunrise; and PRIDEAUX and
some others enter the town through a back yard. This gave an alarm
quite through the town.
Sir THOMAS FAIRFAX was, at this juncture, drawing on his boots, to
go to his father at Tadcaster. He gets on horseback, draws out some
Pikes, and so meets our Gentlemen. Every one had a shot at him : he
only making at them with his sword ; and then retired again, under the
guard of his Pikes.
At another part, Lieutenant Colonel NORTON enters with his Dra
goons. Captain ATKINSON encounters him on horseback : the other
being on foot. They meet. ATKINSON missed with his pistol. NOR
TON pulls him off horseback by the sword-belt. Being both on the
ground ; ATKINSON'S soldiers come in, fell NORTON into the ditch
with the butt ends of their muskets, to rescue their Captain. NORTON'S
soldiers come in, and beat down ATKINSON ; and with repeated blows
break his thigh ; of which wound, he died. A sore scuffle between
two that had been neighbours and intimate friends. After this they
[NORTON'S Dragoons] retreated out of the town ; with the loss of more
.than one Trooper killed, and one Major CARR, a Scotchman.
Memoirs, p. 40, Ed. 1806, 8vo.
580 THE ACTION AT TADCASTER. [Lord Ff ^t
But (being of a peaceable nature ; and by his amiable dis
position having but few enemies, or rather because he was
an enemy to few) he did not suit with their present condition
and apprehension of fears. Therefore they sent to [WILLIAM
CAVENDISH] the Earl of NEWCASTLE, who had an Army
of 6,000 men, to desire his assistance : which he answered
by a speedy march to York.
Being now encouraged by this increase of force, they
resolved to fall on Tadcaster. My father drew all his men
thither. But by a Council of War the town was judged
untenable ; and that we should draw out to an advantageous
piece of ground by the town. But before we could all march
out; the Enemy advanced [on /th December 1642] so fast
that we were necessitated to leave some Foot in a slight
Work above the bridge to secure our retreat.
But the Enemy pressing still on us, forced us to draw back
[return back], and maintain that ground.
We had about 900 men. The Enemy above 4,000 : who,,
in Brigades, drew up close to the Works, and stormed us.
Our men reserved their shot till they were very near ; which
then they disposed to so good purpose as forced them to
retire, and shelter themselves behind the hedges that were
hard by.
And here did the fight continue from 1 1 a clock at noon
till 5 at night, with cannon and musket, without intermission.
They had, once, possessed a house by the bridge ; which
would have cut us [off] from our reserves that were in the
town : but Major General GlFFORD, with a commanded
party, beat them out again ; where many of the enemies
were slain and taken prisoners.
They attempted at another place ; but were also repulsed
by Captain LISTER, who was there slain : which was a great
loss, [he] being a discreet Gentleman.
And now, it growing dark, the Enemy drew off into the
fields hard by ; with intention to assault us again the next
day. They left that night about 200 dead and wounded
upon the place.
But our ammunition being all spent in this day's fight ;
we drew off that night, and marched to Selby : and the
Enemy entered, the next day [8th December 1642], into the
•Lord Fairfax.
?i66
*;] VICTORY OF THE CLUB MEN AT BRADFORD. 581
town [of Tadcaster]. And thus, by the mercy of GOD, were
a few delivered from an Army who, in their thoughts, had
swallowed us up.
Now, the Earl of NEWCASTLE lay between us and our
friends in the West Riding ; and so [was] equally destructive
to us both. But, to give them encouragement and help, I
was sent [on Friday, 9th December 164.2], with about 200
Foot and 3 Troops of Horse and some arms, to Bradford.
I was to go by Ferrybridge : our intelligence being that the
Enemy was advanced yet no further than Sherburn.
But when I was within a mile of the town [i.e. Ferry
bridge} ; we took some prisoners who told us That my Lord
NEWCASTLE laid at Pontefract, Soo men in Ferrybridge, and
the rest of the Army in all the towns thereabouts.
So as now, our advance, or retreat, seemed [to be] alike
difficult. But, there being not much time to demur in, a
retreat was resolved on back again to Selby. 300 or 400 of
the Enemy's Horse shewed themselves in our rear, without
making any attempt upon us ; and so, through the goodness
of GOD, we got safe thither.
[Here,chronologically, comes in the Fight at Sherburn inElmet,
on Wednesday, i^th December 164.2, described at page 584.]
And, in three days after,* having better intelligence how
they lay, with the same number as before, I marched in the
night by several towns where they lay, and arrived, the next
* This is clearly wrong, and a slip of the memory. The Writer did
not again go to Bradford until after the Victory of the Club Men
there, on Sunday, \%th December 1642; which is thus described by
FERDINANDO, Lord FAIRFAX, in a letter from Selby on zqth December
1642.
I have formerly advertised that the Earl of NEWCASTLE'S Army have
seized upon Leeds : where they plunder the well-affected party ; and
raise a very great sum of money out of those that they can draw to
compound for their securities.
And from Leeds, they marched on Sunday, the i8th of this month,
with 5 Troops of Horse, 6 Companies of Dragoons, 200 Foot, and two
drakes [small cannon, or field pieces'}, of the Earl of NEWCASTLE'S
Army ; besides Sir WILLIAM SAVILE and divers other Gentlemen
of Yorkshire and their forces, that joined themselves with them : and
came to Bradford, about ten a clock in the morning ; intending to
surprise the town, in [the] time of Prayer.
582 CAVALRY SKIRMISHES ROUND BRADFORD. [Lord F?$£
day, at Bradford : a town very untenable ; but, for their good
affections, deserving all we could hazard for them.
But the town, having scouts abroad, had notice of their coming ; and
gave the alarm to the country [district] : who came in to their succour
from the parts adjoining.
Yet they had not in all above 80 muskets : the rest being armed with
clubs and such rustic weapons ; with which small force, they put the
cause to trial with [against] the great strength of the Enemy. Who
planted their drakes, and discharged each of them seventeen times
upon the town ; until a townsman, with a fowling piece, killed one of
the Cannoniers. And then they all, with great courage, issued from the
town upon the enemies ; and killed many of them, and took about 30
prisoners : and forced the rest to retreat, leaving 40 of their muskets
and [a] barrel of powder,*with much other provision, behind them. And
this, with [the] loss of 3 Bradford men.
The report of the country is that [of] the enemies, amongst those that
were killed were Colonel EVERS, and Captain BINNS, and another Com
mander ; and that Colonel GORING, General of the Horse with the
Earl of NEWCASTLE, was wounded; and Serjeant Major CARR, taken
prisoner. And it is generally spoken, That 150 more are run away,
upon the retreat ; and are not since returned to Leeds.
In which victory the hand and power of GOD was most evident, the
town being open on all sides and not defensible; assaulted on every
side by a malicious and bloody Enemy ; and defended by a few half-
naked \half -armed] men : there being in the town not above 80 muskets
before they got 40 more by the spoils of their enemies ; so that [the]
slaughter was, for the most part, with clubs and scythes mounted on
poles, and came to hand blows.
With this defeat, the enemies are so enraged as they threaten revenge
to Bradford.
Whereupon the Bradford men sent to me for succour of men and
arms. And I have sent my son [Sir THOMAS FAIRFAX] and Sir
HENRY FOULIS to them, with 3 Troops of Horse and 120 Dragooners ;
who are safely arrived there : and [have been] received with great joy
and acclamation of the country [district] ; who flock to him and offer
themselves most willingly to serve against their Popish enemies, if arms
could be furnished to them.
He hath already surprised some victuals [convoys af provisions'] sent
in, upon warrants [requisitions], to the Enemy at Leeds, by the over
awed country [district]. And he hath sent Captain MILDMAY, with his
Troop of Horse, into Craven [i.e. the upper Wharfe-dale] to stop the
raising of forces and money in that country : which is attempted by the
Earl of CUMBERLAND ; who is lately retired from York to Skipton.
And I hope he may leave nothing unattempted that may conduce to
the safety of the country, so far as can be expected from the few forces
he hath with him.
A Second Letter from the Lord FAIRFAX. Printed 5th Jan.
i642[-3]. British Museum Press Mark, E. 84. (15).
?!ir66s:] FAIRFAX SUMMONS THE WEST RIDING. 583
Our first work there was to fortify ourselves ; for we could
not but expect strong opposition in it : seeing there lay at
Leeds 1,500 of the Enemy, and 1,200 at Wakefield ; neither
above six or seven miles from us. They visited us every day
with their Horse ; for ours went not far from the town, being
so unequal in number: yet they seldom returned without
loss. Till, at length, our few men grew so bold ; and theirs,
so disheartened : as they durst not stir a mile out of their
garrison.
But while these daily skirmishes were among the Horse ;
I thought it necessary to strengthen ourselves with more
Foot. So, summoning the country [i.e. the West Riding of
Yorkshire], which now our Horse had given some liberty to
come into us ; I presently armed them with the arms we
brought along with us : so that, in all, we were now about
800 Foot.
But being too many to lie idle, and yet too few to be in
continual duty ; we resolved rather, through the assistance
of GOD, to attempt them in their garrison than endure
longer this trouble. So summoning the country in again ;
we made a body of about 1,200 or 1,300 men : with which
we marched to Leeds, and drew them up [on Monday, 23rd
Another Account of the Bradford Victory, dated 2ist December 1642,
states :
They appeared in Barker End, about 9 a clock, when we had not ir.
[the] town above 40 Musketeers ; planted their ordnance in WILLTAM
COOKE'S Barn ; marched down the Causey [Causeway] with their Foot,
whilst their Horse coasted about the town to hinder aid from coming
in ; possessed themselves of those houses under the Church ; and from
thence played hotly upon our Musketeers in the Church till us. clock :
about which time [the] Halifax men, and other neighbours, came in to
our help.
The fight, before hot, was then hotter. Our men, impatient to be
cooped up in the Church, rushed out [and] forced a passage into the
foresaid houses ; and there our Club Men did good execution upon
them. Thereabouts the fight continued till it was dark. Many of
theirs were slain
Their cannon, one of which shoots a 9 Ib. ball \if so, it was a Demt-
Culverin: see Vol. IV., p. 251] played all that time upon the town : but
hurt no man, praised be GOD ! who hath delivered those that were
ordained to death, &c.
Brave News of the taking of Chichester, &><:. &>c. Printed 3Oth Dec.
1642. British Museum Press Mark, E. 83. (36).
584 THE STORMING OF LEEDS. [Lor
d Fairfax.
? 1665.
January 1643] within [a] half cannon shot of their Works, in
Battalia ; and then sent in a Trumpet[er] with a Summons
to deliver up the town to me, for the use of [the] King and
Parliament.
They presently returned this answer, That it was not
civilly done to come so near before I sent the Summons ; and
that they would defend the town, the best they could, with
their lives.
So presently ordering the manner of the Storm, we all fell
on at one time. The business was hotly disputed for almost
two hours : but, after, the Enemy were beaten from their
Works. The Barricadoes were soon forced open into the
streets: where Horse and Foot resolutely entering, the
soldiers cast down their arms, and rendered themselves
prisoners. The Governor and some chief Officers swam the
river and escaped. One Major BEAUMONT was drowned,
as was thought. In all, there were about 40 or 50 slain ;
and [a] good store of ammunition [was] taken, which we had
much want of.
But the consequence of this Action was yet of more
importance. For those that fled from Leeds and Wakefield,
(for they also quitted that garrison) gave my Lord NEW
CASTLE such an alarm at Pontefract, where he lay ; as he
drew all his Army back again to York : leaving once more
a free intercourse between my father [at Selby] and me,
which he had so long time cut off.
But, after a short time, the Earl of NEWCASTLE returned
again to the same Quarters [at Pontefract] ; and we to our
stricter duties.
But, after some time, we found that our men must either
have more room, or more action. [ This Fight at Sherburn
took place on the i^th December 1642 ; and should have been
mentioned earlier in this Narrative*'} Therefore Captain
* Sir HENRY SLINGS BY says of this Fight :
Two days after, His Excellency [the Earl of NEWCASTLE] came to
York [5th December 1642] ; he undertook to attempt to beat Lord
FAIRFAX out of Tadcaster: in this he succeeded pretty well [on 7th
December 1642] ; and marched to Pomfret [Pontefract}, which he
made his Head Quarters. His Horse [was] at Sherburn, and towns
next adjacent.
Here we were a little too secure. Sir THOMAS FAIRFAX (with a
!x>rd Fairfa
?i665
*;] FAIRFAX'S CAVALRY STORM SHERBURN. 585
HOTHAM and I took a resolution, early in the morning to
beat up a Quarter [Encampment] of the Enemy that lay at
{Church] Fenton. But they being gone, we marched towards
Sherburn [in Elmet] ; intending only to give them an alarm
there.
But they might see us, a mile or two, march over a plain
common which lay by the Town ; and therefore had sent
about 20, or 30, Horse to guard a Pass near the town. I
having the Van (For, at this time we [FAIRFAX and
HOTHAM\ commanded our Troops distinct one from
another ; both making 5 Troops of Horse and 2 of
Dragoons), I told him, If he would second me, I would
charge those Horse ; and if they fled, I would pursue
them so close[ly] as to get into the town with them. He
promised to second me. I went to the head of my Troops,
and presently charged them : who fled, and we pursued
[them] close to the Barricade. But they got in, and shut
it upon us ; where my horse was shot at the breast. We so
filled the lane ; being strait [narrow], that we could not
retreat without confusion, and danger of their falling in our
rear. So we stood to it ; and stormed the Work with pistol
and sword. At the end of the Barricade, there was a straight
passage for one single horse to go in. I entered there, and
others followed one by one. Close at one side of the entrance
stood a Troop of Horse : but so soon as eight or ten of us
got in they fled. And by this time, the rest of our men had
beaten them from their Barricade, and entered the town ,
which soon cleared the streets, and pursued those that fled.
And now my horse, which was shot in the lane, fell down
-dead under me : but I was presently mounted again.
party of 300 Horse ; and, it seems, hearing the Officers in Sherburn
were to have a feast) comes at noon-day, beats up our Quarters ; [and]
takes Commissary WINDHAM, Sir WILLIAM RIDDALL, and many
others, prisoners. Memoirs, p. 42, Ed. 1806, 8vo.
The date of this Fight is fixed by the following passage :
On Tuesday last [i3th December 1642], about four of the clock in the
morning, Sir THOMAS FAIRFAX marched from Selby ; fetching a corn-
pass, as if he declined Sherburn : yet, at last, [he] wheeled about, and
assaulted that town about one of the clock, the next day [i4th Decem
ber 1 642] &c. &c. A True Relation of the Fight at Sherburn, &°c.
Written on [Friday] i6th December 1642. British Museum Press
Mark, E. 83. (15).
586 FLANK MARCH FROM SELBY TO LEEDS. [Lordl'?'ir665:
They in the towns about having taken the alarm, now
made us think of securing our retreat with the prisoners
we had gotten : and some of them [were] very considerable ;
among whom was Major General WINDHAM. But we
scarcely] got into good order before General GORING came,
with a good body of Horse, up to us : and as we marched on,.
he followed close in the rear, without [our] receiving any
hurt ; only my Trumpet[er] had his horse shot close by me.
So we returned again to Selby.
But though this could not free us wholly from a potent
Enemy ; yet we lay more quietly by them a good while
after.
In this recess of action, we had several treaties [negotia
tions] about prisoners. And this I mention the rather, for
that Captain HOTHAM here began to discover his intention
of leaving the Parliament's Service, by making conditions
for himself with the Earl of NEWCASTLE (though [it was]
not discovered till a good while after) : which had almost
ruined my father, and the forces that were with him.
For, being now denied help and succour from Hull and the
East Riding ; he was forced to forsake Selby, and retire to
Leeds and those western parts where [I] myself was.
But to make good this retreat, I was sent to, to bring what
men I could to join with him at Sherburn. For NEW
CASTLE'S forces lay so, as he might easily intercept us in our
way to Leeds : which he had determined [to do], and to that
end lay with his Army on Clifford Moor ; having perfect in
telligence of our march.
But while my father, with 1,500 men ordnance and am
munition, continued [on 2nd April 1643] his way from Selby
to Leeds ; I, with those I brought to Sherburn, marched a
little aside, between my Lord NEWCASTLE'S Army and ours.
And to amuse [deceive] them the more, [I] made an attempt
upon Tadcaster : whither they had 300 or 400 men ; who
presently quitted the town, and fled to York. Here we
stayed three or four hours sleighting [destroying] the Works.
This put NEWCASTLE'S Army to a stand, which was on
their march to meet us : thinking that he was deceived in
his intelligence ; and that we had some other design upon
York.
Lo<dFtrf6s!] FAIRFAX s DISASTER AT SEACROFT MOOR. 587
He presently sent back the Lord GORING, with 20 Troops
of Horse and Dragoons, to relieve Tadcaster. We were
newly drawn off when they came. GORING pressed over
the river to follow us.
But seeing we were far unequal to him in Horse, for I had
not above 3 Troops ; and [having] to go over Bramham
Moor, a large plain : I gave direction to the Foot to march
away, while I stayed with the Horse to interrupt the Enemy's
passage in those narrow lanes that lead up to the Moor. Here
was much firing at one another. But, in regard of their great
number, as they advanced we were forced to give way : yet
had gained by it sufficient time for the Foot to be out of
danger.
But when we came up to the Moor again, I found them
where I left them : which troubled me much, the Enemy
being close upon us, and a great plain yet to go over. So
[I] marched the foot in two Divisions, and the Horse in the
rear. The Enemy followed, about two musket shot from us,
in three good bodies : but yet made no attempt upon us.
And thus we got well over the open campania.
But having again gotten to some little enclosures, beyond
which was another Moor, called Seacroft Moor • [now called
Whin Moor. It is about five miles from Leeds], much less
than the first. Here our men thinking themselves more
secure, were more careless in keeping order ; and while their
officers were getting them out of houses, where they sought
for drink, [it] being an exceedingly hot day ; the Enemy got,
another way, as soon as we, on to the Moor. But we had
almost passed this plain also.
They \the loyalists'] seeing us in some disorder, charged us
both in Flank and Rear. The countrymen presently cast
down their arms, and fled. The Foot soon after : which, for
want of pikes, were not able to withstand their Horse. Some
were slain ; and many taken prisoners. Few of our Horse
stood the charge. Some Officers, with me, made our retreat
with much difficulty; in which Sir HENRY FOULIS had a
slight hurt. My Cornet was taken prisoner. Yet [we] got
to Leeds about two hours after my father, with those forces
with him, was arrived safe thither.
This was one of the greatest losses we ever received. Yet
was it a great Providence that it was a part, and not the
588 1,100 MEN ATTACK 3,OOO IN WAKEFIELD. [Lord Ff '^65.
whole, [of the] Force which received this loss : it being the
Enemy's intention to have fought us that day with their
whole Army, which was, at least, 10,000 men ; had not the
Attempt at Tadcaster put a stand to them. And so con
cluded that day with this storm that fell on us.
But now, being at Leeds, it was thought fit to possess
some other place also: wherefore I was sent to Bradford,
with 700 or 800 Foot and 3 Troops of Horse. These two
towns being all the garrisons we had. At Wakefield, six
miles off, lay 3,000 of the Enemy : but yet [we] had not
much disturbance from them.
Being most busied about releasing our prisoners that were
taken at Seacroft Moor, most of them being countrymen
[ Yorkshire peasants] ; whose wives and children were still
importunate for their release : which was as earnestly endeav
oured by us ; but no conditions would be accepted. So their
continual cries, and tears, and importunities compelled us to
think of some way to redeem these men : so as we thought
of attempting Wakefield ; our intelligence being that the
Enemy had not above 800 or 900 men in the town.
I acquainted my father with our design : who approved
of it ; and sent [to Bradford] some men from Leeds ; which
enable us to draw out 1,100 Horse and Foot.
So upon Whit-Sunday [2ist May 1643], early in the morn
ing, we came before the town. But they had notice of our
coming, and had manned all their Works, and set about 800
Musketeers to line the hedges about the town : which made
us now doubt our intelligence ; which was too late. Not
withstanding, after a little consultation, we advanced, and
soon beat them back into the town ; which we stormed in
three places.
After two hours' dispute, the Foot forced open a Barricado,
where I entered with my own Troop. Colonel ALURED, and
Captain BRIGHT, followed with theirs. The street which we
entered was full of their Foot: which we charged through,
and routed ; leaving them to the Foot which followed close
behind us. And presently we were charged again with
Horse led by General GORING : where, after a hot encounter,
some were slain ; and [he] himself taken prisoner by [the
brother of] Colonel ALURED.
L°rd
*•] THE MIRACULOUS VICTORY AT WAKEFIELD. 589
And I cannot but here acknowledge GOD's goodness to
me this day : who being advanced a good way single [alone]
before my men, having a Colonel and a Lieutenant Colonel,
who had engaged themselves to be my prisoners, only with
me ; and many of the enemies between me and my men, I
light[ed] on a Regiment of Foot standing in the Market
Place.
Thus encompassed, and thinking what to do ; I espied a
lane which I thought would lead me back to my men again.
At the end of this lane, there was a Corps du Guard [Piquet}
of the Enemy's, with 15 or 16 soldiers; who were then just
quitting it, with a Serjeant leading them off: whom we met.
Who, seeing their [two] Officers, came up to us ; taking no
notice of me. They asked them, What they would have
them do ? for they could keep the Work no longer ; because
the Roundheads, as they called them, came so fast upon
them.
But the Gentlemen, who had passed their words to me to
be my true prisoners, said nothing. So, looking upon one
another, I thought it not fit now to own them ; as so much
less to bid the rest to render themselves to me : so, being
well mounted, and seeing a place in the Work where men
used to go over, I rushed from them, seeing no other remedy,
and made my horse leap over the Work. And so, by a good
Providence, got to my men again : who, before I came, had,
by the direction of Major General GlFFORD, brought up a
piece of ordnance, and planted it in the Churchyard, against
the body that stood in the Market Place; who presently
rendered themselves.
All our men being got into the town, the streets were
cleared, [and] many prisoners taken. But the Horse got
off almost entire. But this seemed the greater mercy when
we saw our mistake : now finding 3,000 men in the town,.
[and] not expecting half the number. We brought away
1,400 prisoners, 80 Officers, 28 Colours ; and [a] great store
of ammunition, which we much wanted.*
* Saturday night, the 2Oth of May [1643]. The Lord General [i.e.
FERDINANDO, Lord FAIRFAX] gave Order for a party of 1,000 Foot, 3
Companies of Dragooners, and 8 Troops of Horse, to march from the
garrisons of Leeds, Bradford, Halifax, and Howley. Sir THOMAS
FAIRFAX commanded in chief. The Foot were commanded by Serjeant
59O THE UNSPEAKABLE COURAGE OF THE FOOT. [
Lord Fairfax.
? 1665.
But seeing this was more a Miracle than a Victory ; more
the effect of GOD's divine power than human force ; and
more his Providence than the success of our prudence in
making so hazardous an attempt : let the honour and praise
of it be His only !
After this, we exchanged our men that were prisoners,
with these : and were freed, a good while ; from any trouble
or attempt from [the] Enemy.
But then again it pleased GOD to mix water with our
Major General GIFFORD and Sir WILLIAM FAIRFAX. The Horse were
divided into two bodies : 4 Troops commanded by Sir THOMAS FAIR
FAX, and the other 4 Troops by Sir HENRY FOULIS.
Howley was the rendezvous, where they all met on Saturday [2oth
May] last, about twelve a clock at night.
About two, next morning, they marched away : and coming to
Stanley, where 2 of the Enemy's Troops lay, with some Dragooners ;
that Quarter was beaten up, and about one and twenty prisoners taken.
About four a clock in the morning [of 2ist May 1643], we came before
Wakefield. Where, after some of their Horse were beaten into the
town, the Foot, with unspeakable courage, beat the enemies from the
hedges, which they had lined with Muskeeters, into the town ; and
assaulted it in two places, Wrengate and Norgate : and, after an hour
and a half's fight, we recovered {captured} one of their Pieces [of Ord
nance] and turned it upon them ; and entered the town, at both places,
at one and the same time.
When the Barricadoes were opened, Sir THOMAS FAIRFAX, with the
Horse, fell into the town ; and cleared the street : where Colonel
GORING was taken by Lieutenant ALURED, brother to Captain ALURED,
a Member of the House [of Commons].
Yet in the Market Place, there stood 3 Troops of Horse ; and Colonel
LAMPTON'S Regiment : to whom Major General GIFFORD sent a Trum-
pet[er], with offer of Quarter, if they would lay down their arms.
They answered, They scorned the motion.
Then he fired a Piece of their own Ordnance upon them : and the
Horse fell in upon them, [and] beat them out of [the] town. We took
39 Officers, 27 Colours of Foot, 3 Coronets of Horse, and about 1,500
common soldiers.
The Enemy had in the town 3,000 Foot and 7 Troops of Horse :
besides Colonel LAMPTON'S Regiment ; which came into the town, after
we had entered the town.
The Enemy left behind them 4 Pieces of Ordnance, with Amunition ;
which we brought away.
THOMAS FAIRFAX. JOHN GIFFORD. JOHN HOLMAN. TITUS LEIGHTON.
HENRY FOULIS, WILLIAM FAIRFAX. ROBERT FOULIS. FRANCIS TALBOT.
A Miraculous Victory . ... at Wakefield. Printed 27th May 1643.
British Museum Press Mark, E. 104. (13).
ILqFdFfrf6£] THE BATTLE OF ADWALTON MOOR. 591
wine ; and to bring us into a better condition by the brinks
of ruin and destruction.
Hitherto, through His mercy, we had held up near[ly] two
years against a potent Army : but they finding us now
almost tired, with continual Services ; treacherously used by
our friends ; and in want of many things necessary for
support and defence — the Earl of NEWCASTLE marched
with an Army of 10,000 or 12,000 men to besiege us ;
and resolved to sit down before Bradford, which was a
very untenable place.
My father drew all the forces he could spare out of the
garrisons hither.
But seeing it impossible to defend the town but by
strength of men ; and not [having] above ten or twelve
days' provisions for so many as were necessary to keep it :
we resolved [on 29th June 1643] the next morning, very
early, with a party of 3,000 men, to attempt his whole Army,
as they lay in their Quarters, three miles off; hoping thereby,
to put him into some distraction ; which could not, by reason
of the unequal numbers, be done any other way.
For this end, my father appointed four of the clock next
morning [3Oth June 1643] to begin the march. But Major
General QOHN] GiFFORD, who had the ordering of the
business, so delayed the execution of it that it was seven
or eight before we began to move : and not without much
suspicion of treachery in it ; for when we came near the
place we intended, the Enemy's whole Army was drawn up
in Battalia.
We were to go up a hill to them, which our Forlorn Hope
[or Advanced Guard\ gained by beating theirs into their
Main Body ; which was drawn up half a mile further, upon
a plain called Adderton [the correct spelling is Adwalton~\
Moor. [// is also spelt Atherston and AthertonJ]
We, being all up the hill, drew into Battalia also. I com
manded the Right Wing, which was about 1,000 Foot and
5 Troops of Horse ; Major General [JOHN] GIFFORD, the
Left Wing, which was about the same number. My father
commanded all in chief.
We advanced through the enclosed grounds till we came
to the Moor; beating the Foot that lay in them to their
Main Body.
592 THE CAVALRY FIGHTS AT WARREN'S LANE. [Lord *?%£
10 or 12 Troops of Horse charge us in the Right Wing
[which was at the head of Warrens Lane]. We kept [to]
the enclosures, placing our Musketeers in the hedges next
the Moor ; which was a good advantage to us, that had so
few Horse.
There was a gate, or open place, to the Moor : where five
or six might enter abreast. Here they strove to enter: we,
to defend. But, after some dispute, those that entered the
pass found sharp entertainment ; and those that were not
yet entered, as hot welcome from the Musketeers, that
flanked them in the hedges. All, in the end, were forced to
retreat ; with the loss of Colonel HOWARD, who commanded
them.
The Left Wing, at the same time, was engaged with the
Enemy's Foot. Ours gained ground of them.
The Horse came down again, and charged us : being about
13 or 14 Troops. We defended ourselves as before; but
with much more difficulty, many having got in among us :
but [they] were beat[en] off again, with some loss ; and
Colonel HERNE, who commanded that party, was slain.
We pursued them [back] to their cannon.
And here I cannot omit a remarkable passage of Divine
Justice. Whilst we were engaged in the fight with those
Horse that entered the gate, four soldiers had stripped
Colonel HERNE naked ; as he lay dead on the ground, [and]
men still fighting round about him : and so dextrous were
these villains, as they had done it, and mounted themselves
again, before we had beaten them off. But after we had
beaten them to their ordnance, as I said ; and [were] now
returning to our ground again ; the Enemy discharged a
piece of cannon in our rear. The bullet fell into Captain
COPLEY'S Troop, in which these four men were : two of
whom were killed ; and some hurt or mark remained on the
rest, though dispersed into several Ranks of the Troop, which
was [the] more remarkable.
We had not yet Martial Law amongst us : which gave me
a good occasion to reprove it ; by shewing the soldiers the
sinfulness of the act, and how GOD would punish when men
wanted power to do it.
Lord F?!ir66s:] ROYALISTS VICTORIOUS AT ADWALTON. 593
This charge, and the resolution our soldiers shewed in the
Left Wing, made the Enemy think of retreating. Orders
were given for it ; and some marched off the Field.
Whilst they were in this wavering condition, one Colonel
SKIRTON, a wild and desperate man, desired his General to
let him charge [on our Left Wing] once more, with a Stand
of Pikes. With which he brake in upon our men ; and they
not [being] relieved by our Reserves, ([which were] com
manded by some ill-affected Officers ; chiefly Major General
GlFFORD, who did not his part as he ought to do), our men
lost ground : which the Enemy seeing, pursued this advan
tage by bringing on fresh troops. Ours, being herewith
discouraged, began to flee ; and so [were] soon routed.
The Horse also charged us again. We, not knowing what
was done in the Left Wing ; our men maintained their
ground till a command came for us to retreat : having
scarce any way now to do it ; the Enemy being almost
round about us, and our way to Bradford cut off. But there
was a lane [ Warren's Lane\ in the field we were in, which
led to Halifax : which, as a happy Providence, brought us
off without any great loss ; save of Captain TALBOT and
twelve more, which were slain in this last encounter.
Of those [on the Left Wing] that fled, there were about
60 killed, and 300 taken prisoners.
This business, having such ill success, our hopes of better
could not be much : wanting all things that were necessary
for defence, and [no] expectations of helps from any place.
The Earl of NEWCASTLE presently lay siege to the town
[of Bradford] : but before he had surrounded it, I got in
with those men I brought from Halifax.
I found my father much troubled ; having neither a Place
of Strength to defend ourselves in, nor a garrison in York
shire to retreat to. For [Sir JOHN HOTHAM the Elder,] the
Governor of Hull had declared himself, If we were forced to
retreat thither, that he would shut the gates on us.
But, while he was musing on these sad thoughts, a mes
senger was sent from Hull to let him know, The townsmen
had secured [taken prisoner] the Governor [on the morning
ENG. GAR. VIII.
594 FAIRFAX GETS BACK INTO BRADFORD. [
Lord Fairfax.
? 1663.
of the 29th June 1643] 5 an<^ if he had any occasion to make
use of that place, for they were sensible of the danger he was
in, he should be very readily and gladly received [there].
Which news was joyfully received, and acknowledged as a
great mercy of GOD to us : yet was it not made use of till
a further necessity compelled it.
So my father, having ordered me to stay here [at Brad
ford] with 800 Foot and 60 Horse : he intruded {retired} that
night [of 3Oth June 1643] for Leeds, to secure it.
Now NEWCASTLE, having spent three or four days in lay
ing his Quarters about the town ; they brought down their
cannon : but needed to raise no batteries, for the hills, within
half [a] musket shot, commanded all the town ; which [can
non], now being planted in two places, shot furiously upon
us. [They] making also Approaches ; which made us spend
very much [ammunition].
Our little store was not above five and twenty, or thirty,
barrels of powder at the beginning of the siege : yet, not
withstanding, the Earl of NEWCASTLE sent a Trumpet[er] to
offer us Conditions ; which I accepted so they were honour
able for us to take, and safe for the inhabitants.
Upon which, two Captains were sent to treat with him,
and a Cessation [was agreed upon] during the time ; but he
continued working still, contrary to [the] agreement : where
upon I sent for the Commissioners again, suspecting a design
of attempting something against us ; but he returned them
not till eleven a clock at night [of ist July 1643], and then
with a slight answer.
Whilst they were delivering it to us, we heard great shoot
ing of cannon and muskets. All ran presently to the Works,
which the Enemy was storming. Here, for three-quarters of
an hour, was very hot service : but, at length they retreated.
They made a second attempt : but were also beaten off.
After this, we had not above one barrel of powder left ;
and no Match. So I called the Officers together : where it
was advised and resolved [evidently about I a.m. on the 2nd
July 1643] to draw off presently, before it was day ; and by
forcing a way, which we must do (they having surrounded
the town), [in order] to retreat to Leeds.
Xorf Ffi66s:] THE CUTTING OUT FROM BRADFORD. 595
Orders were despatched, and speedily put in execution.
The Foot, commanded by Colonel ROGERS, was sent out,
through some narrow lanes ; who were to beat up the Dra
goons' Quarters \Encampment\ ; and so to go on to Leeds.
[I] myself, with some other Officers, went with the Horse,
which were not above 50, in an opener way.
Here I must not forget to mention my Wife, who ran
great hazards with us in this retreat as any others ; and with
as little expression of fear : not from any zeal or delight, I
must needs say, in the War ; but through a willing and
patient suffering of this undesirable condition.
But now I sent two or three Horsemen to discover what
they could of the Enemy : which presently returned, and
told us, There was a Guard of Horse close by us.
Before I had gone forty paces, the day beginning to break,
I saw them on the hill above us ; being about 300 Horse.
I, with some 12 more, charged them. Sir HENRY FOULIS,
Major General GlFFORD, and myself, with three more [i.e., 6
out of 13] brake through. Captain MUDD was slain: and
the rest of our Horse, being close by, the Enemy fell upon
them, taking most of them prisoners ; amongst whom my
Wife was, the Officer behind whom she was [on horseback]
being taken.
I saw this disaster ; but could give no relief. For after I
was got through, I was in the Enemy's Rear alone ; for
those that had charged also through, went on to Leeds ;
thinking I had done so too.
But being unwilling to leave my company : I stayed till I
saw there was no more in my power to do ; but to be made
a prisoner with them. Then I retired to Leeds.
The like disorder fell amongst the Foot that went the
other way, by a mistake. For after they had marched a
little way, the Van fell into the Dragoons' Quarters \En-
campment\ clearing the way. But through a cowardly
fear of him that commanded those men who were in the
Eear ; [he] made them face about, and march again into the
town [of Bradford] : where, the next day [2nd July 1643],
they were all taken prisoners.
Only 80, or thereabouts, of the Front, which got through,
came to Leeds ; all mounted on horses which they had taken
from the Enemy : where I found them when I came thither ;
596 THE LONG RETREAT ON HULL. [Lord Ff {?£g
which was some joy to them, all concluding I was either
slain or taken prisoner.
I found all in great distraction here [i.e., at Leeds}.
The Council of War was newly risen, where it was resolved
to quit the town, and make our retreat to Hull ; which was
60 miles off, and many garrisons of the Enemy on the way.
Which, in two hours time was done : for we could expect no
less than that the Enemy should presently send Horse to
prevent it For they had 50, or 60, Troops within three
miles.
But we got well to Selby ; where there was a ferry : and,
hard by, a garrison at Cawood.
My father, being a mile before, with a few men getting
over the ferry ; word came to us that he was in danger to
be taken. I hastened to him with about 40 Horse : the rest
[of the Horse] coming on after in some disorder. He was
newly got into the boat.
The Enemy, with 3 Cornets of Horse, entering the town *
I was drawn up in the Market Place, just before the street
they came down. When they were almost half come into
the Market Place, they turned on the right hand.
With part of my Troop, I charged them in the Flanks;
[and] so divided them. We had the chase of them down the
long street that goes to Brayton.
It happened, at the same time, [that] those men [which] I
left behind, were coming up that street : [but] being in dis
order, and under [the] discouragements of the misfortunes of
many days before, [they] turned about, and gave way ; not
knowing that we were pursuing them in the rear. [That is,
there were tearing along the Brayton road; (i) FAIRFAX'S
disordered Cavalry ; then (2) the Royalist Cavalry ; followed
by (3) FAIRFAX with a part of his Troop.~\
At the end of this street, was a narrow lane which led to
Cawood. The Enemy strove to pass away there ; but [it]
being strait [narrow], caused a sudden stop : where we were
mingled one among another.
Here I received a shot in the wrist of my arm, which
made the bridle fall out of my hand : which [wound], being
] FAIRFAX WOUNDED AT SELBY. 597
among the nerves and veins, suddenly let out such a quantity
of blood as that I was ready to fall from my horse. So
taking the reins in the other hand, wherein I had my sword ;
the Enemy minding nothing so much as how to get away :
I drew myself out of the crowd, and came to our men that
turned about; which were standing hard by. Seeing me
ready to fall from my horse, they laid me on the ground :
and [I] now, [being] almost senseless. My Chirurgeon came
seasonably, and bound up the wound, [and] so stopped the
bleeding.
After a quarter of an hour's rest there, I got on horseback
again.
The other part of our Horse also beat the Enemy to
Cawood back again, that way they first came to us.
So, through the goodness of GOD, our passage here was
:made clear. Some went over the ferry, after my father.
Myself, with others, went through the Levels \pf the Fen
Country, in North Lincolnshire ; and south of the Humber\ to
Hull. But it proved a very troublesome and dangerous pas
sage ; having oft interruptions from the Enemy ; sometimes
in our front, sometimes in our rear.
And now I had been at least twenty hours on horseback,
after I was shot [at Selby], without any rest or refreshment :
and as many hours before. [40 hours from I a.m. on the
night of 2nd July 1643, when FAIRFAX decided to cut his way
out of Bradford, would make it about 5 p.m. of the ^rd July
1643-]
And, as a further addition to my affliction, my daughter
\MARY, who afterwards married GEORGE VILLIERS, second
Duke of BUCKINGHAM, see p. 6n], not above five years old,
being carried before her maid, endured all this retreat on
horseback : but, Nature not [being] able to hold out any
longer, [she] fell into frequent swoonings ; and [was], in
appearance, ready to expire her last [breath]. And having
now passed the Trent \and therefore come into North Lin
colnshire}, and seeing a house not far off, I sent her, with
her maid only, thither : with little hopes of seeing her any
more alive ; but intending, the next day, to send a ship from
Hull for her.
So I went on to Barton \itpon Humber: nearly opposite.
598 COURTESY OF THE EARL OF NEWCASTLE. [^
Hull] ; having sent before to have a ship ready against my
coming thither.
Here I lay down a little to rest ; if it were possible to find
any in a body so full of pain ; and [in] a mind so full of
anxiety and trouble. Though I must acknowledge it, as the
infinite goodness of GOD, methought my spirits were nothing
at all discouraged from doing still that which I thought to
be my work and duty.
But I had not laid [down] a quarter of an hour before the
Enemy came close to the town [of Barton]. I had now not
above 100 Horse with me. We went to the ship ; where,
under the covert of her ordnance, we got all our men and
horses aboard.
So passing [the] Humber, we arrived at Hull ; our men
faint and tired : [and I] myself having lost all, even to my
shirt ; for my clothes were made unfit to wear, with rents
and the blood which was upon them. Considering which,
in all humility and reverence, I may say, I was in JOB'S con
dition when he said, "Naked came I out of my mother's
womb, and naked shall I return thither. The Lord gave»
and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the Name of the
Lord." [Job I 21.]
But GOD, who is a GOD of Mercy and Consolation, doth
not always leave us in distress.
I having sent a ship, presently after I came into the town,
for my daughter : she was brought, the next day [4th July
1643], to Hull; pretty well recovered of her long and tedious
journey.
And, not many days after, the Earl of NEWCASTLE sent
my Wife back again, in his coach, with some Horse to guard
her : which generosity gained more than any reputation he
could have gotten in detaining a Lady prisoner upon such
terms.
And many of our men, which were dispersed in this long
retreat, came hither again to us.
Our first business now, was to raise new forces : which, in
a short time, were about 1,500 Foot and 700 Horse.
F?'ir66s;] NEWCASTLE'S MARCH ON LONDON STOPPED. 599
The town [of Hull] being little ; I was sent to Beverley
with the Horse and 600 Foot.
But my Lord [of] NEWCASTLE, who now looked upon us as
inconsiderable, was marched with his whole Army into Lin
colnshire : only leaving some few garrisons at York and other
few places. He took in Gainsborough and Lincoln ; and
intended [to take] Boston next, which was the Key of the
Associated Countries [Counties]. For his Orders, which I
have seen, were to go into Essex ; and block up London on
that side.
But we, having laid a great while [from ^th July to 26th
August 1643] still, were now strong enough in the Field for
those forces that remained in the Country [ Yorkshire]. So-
we sent out a good party to make an attempt upon Stam
ford Bridge, near York. But the Enemy, upon the alarm,
fled thither [i.e. to York] ; which put them all there in such
a fear as they sent earnestly to desire him to return, or the
Country [ Yorkshire] would again be lost : for the Lord
FAIRFAX had considerable forces.
Upon which, he returned again into Yorkshire ; and, not
long after, came to besiege Hull.
I, lying then at Beverley in the way of his march, finding
that we were not able to maintain such an open place against
an Army, desired Orders from my father to retire back to
Hull.
But the Committee there (having always more mind of
raising money, than to take care of the Soldiers ; yet these
[Committee] Men had the greatest share in command at
this time) would not let any Orders be given for our retreat ;
and [it were] unfit for us to return without [them],
The Enemy marcheth from York, with his whole Army,
towards us. Retreat, we must not. Keep the town, we
could not. So to make our retreat more honourable, and
useful both ; I drew out all the Horse and Dragoons toward
the Enemy, and stood, drawn up by a wood side, all that
night.
The next morning [2nd September 1643], by day[time],.
our Scouts, and theirs, fired on one another. They march[ed]
on with their whole body ; which was about 4,000 Horse and
12,000 Foot.
600 NEWCASTLE LAYS SIEGE TO HULL. [LordFft^
We stood till they were come very near [to] us. I then
drew off (having given directions before for the Foot to
march away toward Hull), thinking to make good the retreat
with the Horse.
The Enemy, with a good party, were upon our rear. The
lane being but narrow, we made good shift with them till we
got into Beverley, and shut the gates : which we had scarce
time to do ; they being so close upon us. But, in this busi
ness, we lost Major LAYTON, and not above 2 more.
The Enemy, not knowing what forces we had in the town,
stayed till the rest of the Army came up ; which was about
a mile behind. This gave our Foot some advantage in their
retreat : it being 5 miles to Hull, on narrow banks [and] so
fittest for our Foot. I sent the Horse by Cottingham, an
opener road ; who got well thither.
But they \the Royalists] overtook the Foot : which, not
withstanding, made good their retreat till we got to a little
bridge, 2 miles from Hull ; where we made a stand.
The Enemy following close, our men here gave them a
good volley of shot ; which made them draw back, and
advance no further. So, leaving a small Guard at the
bridge, we got safe to Hull.
Thus not only for want of military skill in the Gentlemen
of the Committee ; but, to say no more, for want of good
nature : we were exposed to this trouble and danger.
My Lord of NEWCASTLE now lay siege to Hull, but at a
great distance. The sluices being open, drowned the land
two miles about the town : yet upon a bank, which was the
highway, he approached so near as to shoot cannon shot at
random into the town ; which were, for the most part, fiery
bullets. But the diligence and care of the Governor (who
caused every inhabitant to watch his own house ; and where
soever they saw these bullets fall, to be ready to quench them)
prevented the danger.
Our Horse was now useless : and many [horses] died
every day ; having nothing but salt water about the town.
I was therefore sent with the Horse, over [the Humber]
into Lincolnshire, to join with [EDWARD MONTAGU,] the
Earl of MANCHESTER'S forces : which were then commanded
I/ord F?""66*:] THE CAVALRY FIGHT AT WINCEBY. 601
by Major General [OLIVER] CROMWELL : who received us
at our landing, with his troops.
Sir JOHN HENDERSON lay within three or four miles of
this place with 5,000 men, to prevent our conjunction : but
durst not attempt [it].
He marched three or four days near to us : but, for want
of good intelligence, we did not know so much. For I
altogether trusted to the care of our new friends, being a
stranger in those parts : till one morning [Qth October 1643]
he set upon our Guards at Horncastle ; which, being but
newly raised in that Country [Lincolnshire], fled towards
Lincoln, without giving any alarm to our Quarters, who lay
dispersed and secure.
But Sir JOHN HENDERSON, marching slowly with his
Army, gave the alarm to some of our Quarters ; which
was soon taken by the rest : but, with some disorder,
before we could get into a considerable body. My Lord
WlLLOUGHBY with his Horse, and my Dragoons com
manded by Colonel MORGAN, brought up the Rear. After
some skirmishes, we lodged that night all in the Field.
And, next day [loth October 1643], the Earl of MAN
CHESTER came to us with his Foot.
The day following [nth October 1643], we advanced
again towards the Enemy ; and choosing a convenient ground
to fight on, we drew up the Army there. The Enemy did
so on the side of another hill close by, having a little plain
betwixt us.
Lieutenant General [OLIVER] CROMWELL had the Van
[of Horse] ; I, the Reserve [of Horse] : my Lord [of] MAN
CHESTER all the Foot. After we had faced one another a
little while ; the Forlorn Hopes [Advanced Guards] began
the fight. Presently the [Main] Bodies met in the plain :
where the fight was hot for half an hour ; but then we
forced them to a rout. Above 200 killed, and 2000 taken
prisoners. This was the issue of Horncastle Fight, or, as
some call it, Winceby Fight.
At the same instant, we heard great shooting of ordnance
towards Hull : which was a sally my father made [out of the
town] upon my Lord of NEWCASTLE'S Trenches ; who drew
out most part of his Army to relieve them. But our men
charged so resolutely as they possessed themselves of the
6o2 FAIRFAX is TO RELIEVE NANTWICH. [Lord Ff^
cannon ; and so pursued their advantage as [they] put
the enemy into a total rout. Upon which, he raised the
Siege, and returned again to York.
These two defeats together, the one falling heavy on the
Horse, the other on the Foot, kept the Enemy all that
Winter [of 1643-1644] from attempting anything.
And we, after the taking of Lincoln, settled ourselves in-
Winter Quarters.
But, in the coldest season of it, I was ordered by the Par
liament to go and raise the Siege of Nantwich ; which the
Lord BYRON, with the Irish Army, had reduced to great
extremity.
I was the most unfit of all the forces ; being ever the
worst paid; my men sickly, and almost naked for want
of clothes. I desired the Parliament that they would be
pleased to supply these wants : not to excuse myself, as
some who had no will to stir, though well enough accommo
dated with all these ; and a business of so much import
ance. But their answer was a positive direction to march ;
for it would admit of no delay : which indeed was as grievous
to me as that injunction was to the Israelites, to make bricks
without straw.
But, foreseeing I should have such a return to my desires,.
I had, seeing the necessity of the business, upon my own
credit got so much cloth as clothed 1,500 men: and
[they were] all ready to march when these Orders came
to me.
So, the 29th of December [1643], we got forwards from
Falkingham in Lincolnshire to Nantwich, with 1,800 Horse
and 500 Dragoons ; and a Power to call the Regiments [of
Foot] of Lancashire and Cheshire to make up the body of
the Army. But it was not a little trouble to me, when J
came to Manchester, to find some of them 30, some 40
miles distant : besides the disaffection of some of their
Colonels, who went as their peculiar [individual] safety or
Interest swayed them. But, finding more readiness in the
inferior Officers and common soldiers, I got up, in a few
days, near[ly] 3,000 Foot.
With this Army, we marched [from Manchester, on the
Lord Fairfax.^ ^HE BATTLE OF AcTON CHURCH. 603
2 ist January 1644] to Nantwich; which was at the point of
surrendering.
When we were within two days' march, I had intelligence
that the Lord BYRON had drawn off his Siege ; and intended
to meet us in the Field. I put my men into the order I in
tended to fight [in] ; and so continued my march till we
came within 3 miles of the town.
There, was a Pass kept with about 250 men. I sent
Colonel MORGAN, with his Dragoons, to beat them off : in
which, his brother, who was his Lieutenant, was slain. The
Major who commanded the other party, with some others,
were taken prisoners.
We marched on till we came within cannon shot of their
Works, where half of their Army was drawn up. The river
[Weaver], which runs through the town, being raised with
the melting of the snow, hindered, as we were informed,
those that lay on the other side of the town from joining
with them.
We called a Council [of War, on 25th January 1644]
wherein it was debated, Whether we should attempt those
in their Works [Entrenchments], being divided from the rest
of the Army : or march into the town and relieve them ; and>
by increase of more force be better able, the next day [26th
January 1644] to encounter them.
The latter was resolved on. So, making a way with [the]
Pioneers through the hedges, we marched to[ wards] the
town.
But, after we had gone a little way, word came that the
Enemy were in the Rear. So, facing about two Regiments
[of Foot] and my own Regiment of Horse, commanded by
Major ROUSBY, we relieving those that were already en
gaged. And so the fight began on all sides. These that
fell on our Rear were those that lay [on] the other side of
the town ; which had passed the river [Weaver]. Those
that were drawn up under their Works [about Acton Church],
fell upon our Van, which was marching to the town. Thus
was the battle divided ; there being a quarter of a mile
betwixt us.
In the division first engaged, our Foot, at the beginning^
gave a little ground : but our Horse recovered this, by beat
ing the Enemy's Horse out of the lanes that flanked our
604 THE FAIRFAXES STORM SELBY. [Lord.F?'1IS^
Foot ; which did so encourage our men as they gained now
of the Enemy, so as they made them retire from hedge to
hedge till, at length, they were forced to fly to their Works
[Entrenchments]. But their Horse retreated in better order
towards Chester, without much loss.
Our other Wing [the Van\ being assisted from the town,
who sallied out with 700 or 800 Musketeers, beat the Enemy
also back into the same Works [at Acton Church] ; which we
presently surrounded. [" Where" as Sir T. FAIRFAX said
in his despatch, " they were caught as in a trap"~\
But, being in great disorder and confusion, [they] sooner
yielded themselves prisoners ; with all their Chief Officers,
arms, Colours, and ammunition.
Thus, by the mercy of GOD, was this victory obtained :
being yet the more signal in that we were not to deal with
young soldiers, but with men of great experience ; and an
Army which had ever been victorious.
After this, we took in several garrisons in Cheshire:
Lathom [House] only in Lancashire held out ; which was
besieged by the forces of that Country [County], but after
wards [the siege was] raised by Prince RUPERT.
Having spent three or four months in this Expedition ;
my father commanded me back into Yorkshire, that by the
conjunction of forces he might be the more able to take the
Field.
We met about Ferrybridge [in April 1644] : he being
come out of Hull thither, with intention to fall upon the
Enemy's garrison at Selby.
And here I received another Command from the Parlia
ment, to march immediately with my Horse and Dragoons,
into Northumberland, to join with the Scots Army. The
Earl of NEWCASTLE, who was then at Durham, being much
stronger in Horse than they ; for want of which they
could not advance no further. But it being resolved, within
a day or two to storm Selby ; I stayed till that business was
over : which proved as effectual for the relief of the Scots
Army.
The Governor of York lay in the town with 2,000 men.
We drew Horse and Foot close to it. Sir JOHN MELDRUM
^*dF?S£] YORK IS BESIEGED FOR 29 DAYS. 605
led on the Foot ; which had their General Posts appointed,
where they should storm : I, with the Horse, ready to second
them.
The Enemy within defended themselves [on the nth
April 1644] stoutly a good while. Our men at length beat
them from the Line ; but could not advance farther because
of the Horse within.
I getting a Barricado open, which let us in betwixt the
houses and the river. Here we had an encounter with their
Horse. [After one charge, they fled over a Bridge of Boats
to York.]
Other Horse came up, and charged us again, where my
horse was overthrown ; [I] being single \alone\ a little before
my men : who presently relieved me, and forced the Enemy
back ; who retreated also to York. In this charge, we took
Colonel [Lord] BELLASIS, Governor of York.
By this, the Foot had entered the town ; and also took
many prisoners.
This good success put them into great distraction and
fears at York : who speedily sent to the Earl of NEWCASTLE,
to haste back thither ; believing we would presently attempt
them. This news suddenly called him back, leaving the
Scots : who, with cold and oft alarms, were reduced to great
extremity ; but now advanced without delay after him.
The Earl of NEWCASTLE gets into York [on ipth April
1644].
The Scots joined their forces with my father's at Wetherby :
altogether making 16,000 Foot and 4,000 Horse. They
marched on to York [, from Tadcaster, on ipth April 1644].
But for this work, it was thought fit to have more men ;
the town [of York] being large in compass, and strongly
manned. Therefore the Earl of CRAWFORD, [Lord] LINDSAY
and myself were sent to the Earl of MANCHESTER, to desire
him to join with us in the Siege : which he willingly con
sented to, bringing an addition of 6,000 Foot and 3,000
Horse [on 2nd June 1644].
So now the Army had three Generals, [ALEXANDER]
LESLIE [, Earl of LEVEN], MANCHESTER, and FAIRFAX ;
who lay apart in three Quarters before the town. But the
north side still remained open to the town.
606 RUPERT RAISES THE SIEGE OF YORK. [**** Ff'^
Some time was spent here without any considerable action
till, in my Lord of MANCHESTER'S Quarters, approaches
were made to St Mary's Tower ; and soon came to mine it.
Which Colonel [LAURENCE] CRAWFORD, a Scotsman, who
commanded that Quarter, (ambitious to have the honour alone
of springing the mine [on i6thjune 1644] undertook, without
acquainting of the other two Generals with it, for their
advice and concurrence) : which proved very prejudicial.
For, having engaged his party against the whole strength of
the town, without more force to second him, he was repulsed
with the loss of 300 men. For which, he had been surely
called to account ; but that he escaped the better by reason
of this triumviral goverment.
So after, Prince RUPERT came to relieve the town. We
raised the siege \which had lasted from Monday the $rd June
to Monday the \st July 1644] and Hessa[y] Moor [a portion
of Marston Moor, 7 miles from York] being appointed the
rendezvous, the whole Army drew thither.
About a mile from whence, Prince RUPERT lay ; the river
Ouse being only betwixt us : which he, that night, passed
over at Poppleton. And, the next day, [he] drew his Army
into the same Moor we were on : who, being now joined with
the Earl of NEWCASTLE'S forces, made about 23,000 or 24,000
men. But we, something more.
We were divided in our opinions what do do. The English
were for fighting them ; the Scots, for retreating, to gain (as
they alleged) both time and place of more advantage. This
latter being resolved on ; we marched away [on Tuesday 2nd
July 1644] to[ wards] Tadcaster ; which made the Enemy to
advance the faster.
Lieutenant General CROMWELL, Major General [DAVID]
LESLIE, and myself, being appointed to bring up the Rear ;
we sent word to the Generals, of the necessity of making a
stand. For else, the Enemy, having the advantage, might
put us in some disorder ; but, by the advantage of the
ground we were on, we hoped to make it good till they
came back to us.
[Which they did.]
Lord Fairfax.-| THE LEFT \\fiNG AND CENTRE VICTORIOUS. 607
The place was Marston Fields, which afterwards gave the
name to this battle.
Here we drew up our Army. The Enemy was drawn up
in Battalia on the Moor a little below us.
The day being, for the most part, spent in preparation we
now began to descend toward them.
Lieutenant General CROMWELL commanded the Left Wing
of Horse ; and [was] seconded by Major General [DAVID]
LESLIE. I had the Right Wing [of Horse], with some
Scotch Horse and Lances for my Reserves. The three
Generals were with the Foot.
Our Left Wing charged first the Enemy's Right Wing ;
which was performed for a while with much resolution on
both sides ; but the Enemy, at length, was put to the
worst.
Our Right Wing had not, all, so good success, by reason
•of the whins \_furze\ and ditches which we were to pass over
before we could get to the Enemy, which put us into great
disorder : notwithstanding, I drew up a body of 400 Horse.
But because the intervals of [their] Horse, in this Wing only,
were lined with Musketeers ; which did us much hurt with
their shot : I was necessitated to charge them. We were a
Jong time engaged one with another ; but at last we routed
that part of their Wing. We charged, and pursued them a
good way towards York.
[I] myself only \alone] returned presently, to get to the
men I left behind me. But that part of the Enemy which
stood [opposite to them], perceiving the disorder they were
in, had charged and routed them, before I could get to them.
So that the good success we had at first was eclipsed much
by this bad conclusion.
But our other Wing, and most of the Foot, went on
prosperously till they had cleared the Field.
But I must not forget to remember with thankfulness
GOD's goodness to me this day. For having charged
through the Enemy, and my [400] men going after [in]
the pursuit ; returning back [alone] to go to my other
troops, I was gotten in among the Enemy, which stood
up and down the Field in several bodies of Horse. So,
608 RIGHT WING UNFORTUNATE AT MARSTON. [Lord *??££
taking the Signal [a white handkerchief, or a piece of paper]
out of my hat, I passed through, for one of their own Com
manders ; and so got to my Lord of MANCHESTER'S Horse
in the other Wing ; only with a cut in my cheek which was,
given me in the first charge, and a shot [which] my horse
received.
In which [first] charge also, many of my Officers and
soldiers were hurt and slain. The Captain of my own
Troop was shot in the arm. My Cornet had both his
hands cut, that rendered him ever after unserviceable. Cap
tain MlCKELTHWAITE, an honest stout man, was slain. And
[there was] scarcely] any Officer which was in this charge,
which did not receive a hurt.
But Colonel LAMBERT (who should have seconded me;
but could not get up to me) charged in another place.
Major FAIRFAX, who was Major to his Regiment, had,
at least, thirty wounds : of which he died ; after he was
abroad \put of doors~\ again, and [had] good hopes of his
recovery.
But that which nearest of all concerned me, was the loss
of my brother [CHARLES FAIRFAX] : who, being deserted of
his men, was sore wounded ; of which, in three or four days
after, he died.
So as, in this charge, as many were hurt and killed as in
the whole [Parliamentary] Army besides.*
* A modest Refutation of an Error published in print by Master
[THOMAS] FULLER, in his book of Worthies \of England]. Title,
[Yorkshire] Battles, pagina 225 [, Ed. 1662], in these words, viz.
GORING, [at the fight of Marston Moor,] so valiantly charged the
Right Wing of the Enemy, that they fairly forsook the Field.
On this, Lord FAIRFAX made the following marginal Note in his
copy:
I envy none the honour they deservedly got in this battle ; nor
am I ambitiously desirous of a branch of their laurel. But I see
no reason to be excluded [from] the Lists : in which I underwent
equal hazards with any others that day.
But [it] being my lot to be cast upon many disadvantages, having
command of the Right Wing, with much difficulty I could get but
Lord Fairfa
FAIRFAX WOUNDED IN THE SHOULDER. 609
Of the Enemy's part, there were above 4,000 slain, and
many taken prisoners.
Prince RUPERT returned into the South. The Earl of
NEWCASTLE went beyond the seas [on 5th July 1644], with
many of his Officers. York presently surrendered [on the
1 5th July 1644], ar)d the North now was wholly reduced by
the Parliament's forces, except some garrisons.
Soon after this, I went to Helmsley, to take in the Castle
there : but received a dangerous shot in my shoulder ; and
was brought back to York. All, for some time, being
doubtful of my recovery.
Yet, at the same time, the Parliament voted me to com
mand in the South.
But my intention being only to keep in mind what I had
been present in, during this Northern War ; I shall put an
end to this Discourse, where it pleased GOD to determine
my service there.
Yet thus, with some smart from his rod, to let me see I
was not mindful enough of returning my humble thanks
and acknowledgments for the deliverances and mercies I
received ; and for which, alas, I am not yet capable enough
5 Troops in order : with which I charged the Enemy's Left
Wing; when the business was hotly disputed a long time, at [the]
sword's point. We broke through ; and had the chase of many
of them.
But, indeed, the rest of the Horse, [that] I could not draw up to
charge with me, were soon routed with that part of the Enemy we
left behind.
But to shew that some did their parts : having routed some of the
Enemy, and taken GORING'S Major General prisoner; few of us
came off without dangerous wounds ; and many [of them] were
mortal.
Which shews that the Right Wing did not wholly leave the
Field ; as the Author of that book relates.
F. GROSE, Antiquarian Repertory, 2nd Ed., III., p. 31, 1808, 4.
ENG. GAR. VIII. 29
6 io ALL is VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT. [Lord FfIr^;
to praise him as I ought. [I] that may say by experience,
"Who is a GOD like unto our GOD?" [Ps. Ixxi. 19.]
Therefore, " Not unto us, O Lord ; not unto us, but unto
Thy Name ; give we the praise ! " [Ps. cxv.]
But as for myself, and what I have done, I may say with
SOLOMON, " I looked on all the works that my hands have
wrought ; and on the labour that I had laboured to do :
and, behold, all was Vanity and Vexation of Spirit. For
there is no remembrance of the Wise more than of the Fool
for ever ; seeing that which now is, in the days to come shall
be forgotten." Eccles. ii. 16.
FINIS.
6u
GEORGE VILLIERS,
second Duke of BUCKINGHAM.
An Epitaph on
THOMAS, third Lord FAIRFAX.
[A Third Collection of . . . . Poems,
Satires, Songs, &=c. against Popery
and Tyranny. London, 1689. 410.
[Lord FAIRFAX, the great General on the side of the Parliament, died
in 1671 ; and his son-in-law, the Writer of this Epitaph, in 1688.
VILLIERS never wrote a nobler Poem, irregular though it be.]
Under this stone does lie
One born for Victory,
I.
AlRFAX the valiant ; and the only He
Whoe'er,for that aloneaConquerorwould be.
Both sexes' virtues were in him combined :
He had the fierceness of the manliest mind,
And eke the meekness too of womankind.
He never knew what Envy was, or Hate.
His soul was filled with Worth and Honesty;
And with another thing, quite out of date,
Called Modesty.
6 12 AN EPITAPH ON LORD FAIRFAX.
2.
He ne'er seemed impudent but in the Field : a place
Where Impudence itself dares seldom show her face.
Had any stranger spied him in the room
With some of those whom he had overcome,
And had not heard their talk ; but only seen
Their gestures and their mien :
They would have sworn he had, the vanquished been.
For as they bragged, and dreadful would appear ;
While they, their own ill lucks in war repeated :
His modesty still made him blush to hear
How often he had them defeated.
Through his whole life, the Part he bore
Was wonderful and great :
And yet it so appeared in nothing more
Than in his private last retreat.
For it 's a stranger thing to find
One man of such a glorious mind,
As can dismiss the Power he has got ;
Than millions of the Polls and Braves
(Those despicable fools and knaves),
Who such a pother make,
Through dulness and mistake,
In seeking after Power : but get it not.
<G. Villiers.-
AN EPITAPH ON LORD FAIRFAX* 613
When all the nation he had won,
And with expense of blood had bought ;
Store great enough, he thought,
Of fame and of renown :
He then his arms laid down
With full as little pride
As if he had been of his Enemies' side ;
Or one of them could do that were undone.
He neither wealth, nor Places sought.
For others, not himself, he fought.
He was content to know
(For he had found it so)
That when he pleased, to conquer he was able ;
And left the spoil and plunder to the rabble.
He might have been a King :
But that he understood
How much it is a meaner thing
To be unjustly Great, than honourably Good.
This from the World, did admiration draw;
And from his friends, both love and awe :
Remembering what in fight he did before.
And his foes loved him too,
As they were bound to do,
6 14 AN EPITAPH ON LORD FAIRFAX. [G'vn6e7T
Because he was resolved to fight no more.
So blessed of all, he died. But far more blessed were we,.
If we were sure to live till we could see
A Man as great in War, in Peace as just, as he.
ADVICE
TO A
W I T H A
SPECIMEN OF THE ART.
OXFORD:
SOLD BY J. PARKER AND J. COOKE;
AND BY
F. C AND J. RIVINGTON, ST. PAUL'S
CHURCHYARD, LONDON.
1807.
[This splendid piece of irony was occasioned by the omniscient
arrogance of the first Writers of the Edinburgh Review, then in its
fifth year of publication, with, as Sir WALTER SCOTT tells us, a sale
of 9,000 copies each quarter, and a paramount influence in British
society.
One usually looks to the reign of Queen ANNE, to a DEFOE, a
SWIFT, or an ARBUTHNOT, for depth and subtilty of invention in
prose ; but here it is in abundance : not so much, perhaps, in what is
so wittily said, 'as in the management and studied unfairness of the
pettifogging malignant sham Review ; where everything is said that
ought to have been left out, and everything is left out that ought to have
been said.
The Writer, of course, would only take a noble Poem for such
maltreatment ; and we must note the extreme liberality of his mind
that, being a strong Churchman, and also at that time Tutor of Oriel
College, Oxford, he selected a poem of the then scouted MILTON for his
example.
Among the brilliant strokes of this Satire, two seem pre-eminent :
(1) The designation of the Archangel of English Song as — Mr. M.
(2) Speaking thus of one whose life and thought were Purity itself—
But we have already had occasion to remark on the laxity of
Mr Af.'s amatory notions^
ADVICE
TO A
YOUNG REVIEWER, &c.
Ou are now about to enter on a Profession
which has the means of doing much good
to society, and scarcely any temptation to do
harm. You may encourage Genius, you may
chastise superficial Arrogance, expose False
hood, correct Error, and guide the Taste and
Opinions of the Age in no small degree by the books
you praise and recommend. And this too may be done
without running the risk of making any enemies ; or sub
jecting yourself to be called to account for your criticism,
however severe. While your name is unknown, your person
is invulnerable : at the same time your aim is sure, for you
may take it at your leisure ; and your blows fall heavier
than those of any Writer whose name is given, or who is
simply anonymous. There is a mysterious authority in the
plural, We, which no single name, whatever may be its
reputation, can acquire ; and, under the sanction of this
imposing style, your strictures, your praises, and your
dogmas, will command universal attention ; and be received
o 7
as the fruit of united talents, acting on one common
principle — as the judgments of a tribunal who decide only
on mature deliberation, and who protect the interests of
Literature with unceasing vigilance.
Such being the high importance of that Office, and such
its opportunities ; I cannot bestow a few hours of leisure
better than in furnishing you with some hints for the more
618 WRITE WHAT WILL SELL
[Bp. E. Coplestone.
1807.
easy and effectual discharge of it : hints which are, I
confess, loosely thrown together ; but which are the result
of long experience, and of frequent reflection and com
parison. And if anything should strike you, at first sight, as
rather equivocal in point of morality, or deficient in liberality
and feeling ; I beg you will suppress all such scruples,
and consider them as the offspring of a contracted educa
tion and narrow way of thinking, which a little inter
course with the World and sober reasoning will speedily
overcome.
Now as in the conduct of life nothing is more to be
desired than some Governing Principle of action, to which
all other principles and motives must be made subservient ;
so in the Art of Reviewing I would lay down as a funda
mental position, which you must never lose sight of, and
which must be the mainspring of all your criticisms —
Write what will sell ! To this Golden Rule every minor
canon must be subordinate ; and must be either immediately
deducible from it, or at least be made consistent with
it.
Be not staggered at the sound of a precept which, upon
examination, will be found as honest and virtuous as it
is discreet. I have already sketched out the great services
which it is in your power to render mankind ; but all
your efforts will be unavailing if men did not read what
you write. Your utility therefore, it is plain, depends upon
your popularity ; and popularity cannot be attained without
humouring the taste and inclinations of men.
Be assured that, by a similar train of sound and judicious
reasoning, the consciences of thousands in public life are
daily quieted. It is better for the State that their Party
should govern than any other. The good which they can
effect by the exercise of power is infinitely greater than
any which could arise from a rigid adherence to certain
subordinate moral precepts ; which therefore should be
violated without scruple whenever they stand in the way of
their leading purpose. He who sticks at these can never
act a great part in the World, and is not fit to act it if he
could. Such maxims may be very useful in ordinary
affairs, and for the guidance of ordinary men : but when
Bp. E. Coplestone.-J fOLLOtv PUBLIC TASTE, NOT GUIDE IT ! 619
we mount into the sphere of public utility, we must adopt
more enlarged principles ; and not suffer ourselves to be
cramped and fettered by petty notions of Right and Moral
Duty.
When you have reconciled yourself to this liberal way
of thinking ; you will find many inferior advantages resulting
from it, which at first did not enter into your consideration.
In particular, it will greatly lighten your labours, to follow
the public taste, instead of taking upon you to direct it.
The task of Pleasing is at all times easier than that of
Instructing : at least it does not stand in need of painful
research and preparation ; and may be effected in general
by a little vivacity of manner, and a dexterous morigeration
[compliance, or obsequiousness], as Lord BACON calls it, to
the humours and frailties of men. Your responsibility too
is thereby much lessened. Justice and Candour can only
be required of you so far as they coincide with this Main
Principle : and a little experience will convince you that these
are not the happiest means of accomplishing your purpose.
It has been idly said, That a Reviewer acts in a judicial
capacity, and that his conduct should be regulated by the
same rules by which the Judge of a Civil Court is governed :
that he should rid himself of every bias ; be patient, cautious,
sedate, and rigidly impartial ; that he should not seek to
shew off himself, and should check every disposition to
enter into the case as a partizan.
Such is the language of superficial thinkers ; but in reality
there is no analogy between the two cases. A Judge is
promoted to that office by the authority of the State ; a
Reviewer by his own. The former is independent of
control, and may therefore freely follow the dictates of
his own conscience: the latter depends for his very bread
upon the breath of public opinion ; the great law of self-
preservation therefore points out to him a different line
of action. Besides, as we have already observed, if he ceases
to please, he is no longer read ; and consequently is no
longer useful. In a Court of Justice, too, the part of
amusing the bystanders rests with the Counsel : in the case
of criticism, if the Reviewer himself does not undertake
it, who will ?
620 THE ARTS OF QUIZZING AND BANTER. [Bp- E- CopIestIg"£
Instead of vainly aspiring to the gravity of a Magistrate ;
I would advise him, when he sits down to write, to place
himself in the imaginary situation of a cross-examining
Pleader. He may comment, in a vain of agreeable irony,
upon the profession, the manner of life, the look, dress,
or even the name, of the witness he is examining : when
he has raised a contemptuous opinion of him in the minds
of the Court, he may proceed to draw answers from him
capable of a ludicrous turn ; and he may carve and garble
these to his own liking.
This mode of proceeding you will find most practicable in
Poetry, where the boldness of the image or the delicacy
of thought (for which the Reader's mind was prepared
in the original) will easily be made to appear extravagant, or
affected, if judiciously singled out, and detached from the
group to which it belongs. Again, since much depends
upon the rhythm and the terseness of expression (both
of which are sometimes destroyed by dropping a single
word, or transposing a phrase), I have known much advant
age arise from not quoting in the form of a literal extract :
but giving a brief summary in prose, of the contents
of a poetical passage ; and interlarding your own language,
with occasional phrases of the Poem marked with inverted
commas.
These, and a thousand other little expedients, by which
the arts of Quizzing and Banter flourish, practice will
soon teach you. If it should be necessary to transcribe
a dull passage, not very fertile in topics of humour and
raillery ; you may introduce it as a " favourable specimen
of the Author's manner."
Few people are aware of the powerful effects of what is
philosophically termed Association. Without any positive
violation of truth, the whole dignity of a passage may be
undermined by contriving to raise some vulgar and ridic
ulous notions in the mind of the reader : and language
teems with examples of words by which the same idea
is expressed, with the difference only that one excites a
feeling of respect, the other of contempt. Thus you may
call a fit of melancholy, "the sulks"; resentment, ''a pet";
a steed, "a nag"; a feast, "a junketing"; sorrow and
Bp. E. Coplestone.-j HQW TQ CUT up BOOKS QF TRAVEL. 621
affliction, "whining and blubbering". By transferring the
terms peculiar to one state of society, to analogous situations
and characters in another, the same object is attained.
"A Drill Serjeant" or "a Cat and Nine Tails" in the Trojan
War, "a Lesbos smack putting into the Piraeus," "the
Penny Post of Jerusalem," and other combinations of the
like nature which, when you have a little indulged in that
vein of thought, will readily suggest themselves, never fail
to raise a smile, if not immediately at the expense of the
Author, yet entirely destructive of that frame of mind which
his Poem requires in order to be relished.
I have dwelt the longer on this branch of Literature,
because you are chiefly to look here for materials of fun
and irony.
Voyages and Travels indeed are no barren ground ; and
you must seldom let a Number of your Review go abroad
without an Article of this description. The charm of this
species of writing, so universally felt, arises chiefly from
its uniting Narrative with Information. The interest we
take in the story can only be kept alive by minute incident
and occasional detail ; which puts us in possession of the
traveller's feelings, his hopes, his fears, his disappointments,
and his pleasures. At the same time the thirst for know
ledge and love of novelty is gratified by continual informa
tion respecting the people and countries he visits.
If you wish therefore to run down the book, you have
only to play off these two parts against each other. When
the Writer's object is to satisfy the first inclination, you
are to thank him for communicating to the World such
valuable facts as, whether he lost his way in the night,
or sprained his ankle, or had no appetite for his dinner.
If he is busied about describing the Mineralogy, Natural
History, Agriculture, Trade, etc. of a country : you may
mention a hundred books from whence the same information
may be obtained ; and deprecate the practice of emptying
old musty Folios into new Quartos, to gratify that sickly
taste for a smattering about everything which distinguishes
the present Age.
In Works of Science and recondite Learning, the task
622 DO NOT TOUCH WORKS OF RESEARCH! [Bp>
E-
you have undertaken will not be so difficult as you may
imagine. Tables of Contents and Indexes are blessed
helps in the hands of a Reviewer ; but, more than all, the
Preface is the field from which his richest harvest is to
be gathered.
In the Preface, the Author usually 'gives a summary
of what has been written on the same subject before ;
he acknowledges the assistance he has received from
different sourceSj and the reasons of his dissent from former
Writers ; he confesses that certain parts have been less
attentively considered than others, and that information
has come to his hands too late to be made use of; he
points out many things in the composition of his Work
which he thinks may provoke animadversion, and endeavours
to defend or palliate his own practice.
Here then is a fund of wealth for the Reviewer, lying
upon the very surface. If he knows anything of his
business, he will turn all these materials against the Author :
carefully suppressing the source of his information ; and
as if drawing from the stores of his own mind long ago
laid up for this very purpose. If the Author's references
are correct, a great point is gained ; for by consulting a
few passages of the original Works, it will be easy to
discuss the subject with the air of having a previous know
ledge of the whole.
Your chief vantage ground is, That you may fasten
upon any position in the book you are reviewing, and
treat it as principal and essential ; when perhaps it is of
little weight in the main argument : but, by allotting a
large share of your criticism to it, the reader will naturally
be led to give it a proportionate importance, and to consider
the merit of the Treatise at issue upon that single question.
If anybody complains that the greater and more valuable
parts remain unnoticed ; your answer is, That it is impossible
to pay attention to all ; and that your duty is rather to
prevent the propagation of error, than to lavish praises
upon that which, if really excellent, will work its way
in the World without your help.
Indeed, if the plan of your Review admits of selection,
you had better not meddle with Works of deep research
and original speculation ; such as have already attracted
Ep. E. CoPlestone.-j INCOMpATIBLE QUALITIES IN STYLE. 623
much notice, and cannot be treated superficially without
fear of being found out. The time required for making
yourself thoroughly master of the subject is so great, that
you may depend upon it they will never pay for the
reviewing. They are generally the fruit of long study,
and of talents concentrated in the steady pursuit of one
object : it is not likely therefore that you can throw much
new light on a question of this nature, or even plausibly
combat the Author's propositions ; in the course of a few
hours, which is all you can well afford to devote to them.
And without accomplishing one or the other of these points ;
your Review will gain no celebrity, and of course no good
will be done.
Enough has been said to give you some insight into
the facilities with which your new employment abounds.
I will only mention one more, because of its extensive
and almost universal application to all Branches of Litera
ture ; the topic, I mean, which by the old Rhetoricians
was called e£ evavricov, That is, when a Work excels in
one quality ; you may blame it for not having the
opposite.
For instance, if the biographical sketch of a Literary
Character is minute and full of anecdote ; you may enlarge
on the advantages of philosophical reflection, and the
superior mind required to give a judicious analysis of the
Opinions and Works of deceased Authors. On the contrary,
if the latter method is pursued by the Biographer ; you
can, with equal ease, extol the lively colouring, and truth,
and interest, of exact delineation and detail.
This topic, you will perceive, enters into Style as well
as Matter ; where many virtues might be named which
are incompatible : and whichever the Author has preferred,
it will be the signal for you to launch forth on the praises
of its opposite ; and continually to hold up that to your
Reader as the model of excellence in this species of Writing.
You will perhaps wonder why all my instructions are
pointed towards the Censure, and not the Praise, of Books ;
but many reasons might be given why it should be so.
The chief are, that this part is both easier, and will sell better.
624 SECONDARY SPRINGS OF ACTION. [Bp< E- Coples^;
Let us hear the words of Mr BURKE on a subject not
very dissimilar :
" In such cases," says he, " the Writer has a certain fire
and alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness that
(let it fare how it will with the subject) his ingenuity will
be sure of applause : and this alacrity becomes much greater,
if he acts upon the offensive ; by fhe impetuosity that
always accompanies an attack, and the unfortunate pro
pensity which mankind have to finding and exaggerating
faults." Pref, Vindic. Nat. Soc., p. 6.
You will perceive that I have on no occasion sanctioned
the baser motives of private pique, envy, revenge, and
love of detraction. At least I have not recommended
harsh treatment upon any of these grounds. I have argued
simply on the abstract moral principle which a Reviewer
should ever have present to his mind : but if any of these
motives insinuate themselves as secondary springs of action,
I would not condemn them. They may come in aid of
the grand Leading Principle, and powerfully second its-
operation.
But it is time to close these tedious precepts, and to
furnish you with, what speaks plainer than any precept,
a Specimen of the Art itself, in which several of them
are embodied. It is hastily done : but it exemplifies well
enough what I have said of the Poetical department ; and
exhibits most of those qualities which disappointed Authors
are fond of railing at, under the names of Flippancy,
Arrogance, Conceit, Misrepresentation, and Malevolence :
reproaches which you will only regard as so many acknow
ledgments of success in your undertaking ; and infallible
tests of an established fame, and [a] rapidly increasing,
circulation.
625
L? Allegro. A Poem.
By JOHN MILTON.
No Printer's name.
T has become a practice of late with a certain
description of people, who have no visible means
of subsistence, to string together a few trite
images of rural scenery, interspersed with
vulgarisms in dialect, and traits of vulgar
manners ; to dress up these materials in a Sing-Song jingle ;
and to offer them for sale as a Poem. According to the most
approved recipes, something about the heathen gods and god
desses ; and the schoolboy topics of Styx and Cerberus, and
Elysium ; are occasionally thrown in, and the composition is
complete. The stock in trade of these Adventurers is in general
scanty enough ; and their Art therefore consists in disposing
it to the best advantage. But if such be the aim of the Writer,
it is the Critic's business to detect and defeat the imposture ;
to warn the public against the purchase of shop-worn goods
and tinsel wares ; to protect the fair trader, by exposing
the tricks of needy Quacks and Mountebanks ; and to
chastise that forward and noisy importunity with which
they present themselves to the public notice.
How far Mr. MILTON is amenable to this discipline,
will best appear from a brief analysis of the Poem before us.
In the very opening he assumes a tone of authority
which might better suit some veteran Bard than a raw
candidate for the Delphic bays : for, before he proceeds
to the regular process of Invocation, he clears the way,
by driving from his presence (with sundry hard names ;
and bitter reproaches on her father, mother, and all the
family) a venerable Personage, whose age at least and
staid matron-like appearance, might have entitled her to
more civil language.
Hence, loathed Melancholy !
Of CERBERUS and blackest Midnight born,
In Stygian cave forlorn, &c.
ENG. GAR. VIII. X
626 A MOCK CRITICISM OF L ALLEGRO. [BP. E. coPi«t«ne.
There is no giving rules, however, in these matters, without
a knowledge of the case. Perhaps the old lady had been
frequently warned off before ; and provoked this violence
by continuing still to lurk about the Poet's dwelling. And,
to say the truth, the Reader will have but too good reason
to remark, before he gets through the Poem, that it is one
thing to tell the Spirit of Dulness to depart ; and another to
get rid of her in reality. Like GLENDOWER's Spirits, any
one may order them away ; " but will they go, when you do
order them ? "
But let us suppose for a moment that the Parnassian
decree is obeyed ; and, according to the letter of the Order
(which is as precise and wordy as if Justice SHALLOW
himself had drawn it) that the obnoxious female is sent back
to the place of her birth,
'Mongst horrid shapes, shrieks, sights, &c.
At which we beg our fair readers not to be alarmed ; for
we can assure them they are only words of course in all
poetical Instruments of this nature, and mean no more
than the " force and arms " and " instigation of the Devil "
in a common Indictment.
This nuisance then being abated ; we are left at liberty
to contemplate a character of a different complexion,
" buxom, blithe, and debonair " : one who, although evidently
a great favourite of the Poet's and therefore to be received
with all due courtesy, is notwithstanding introduced under
the suspicious description of an alias.
In heaven, ycleped EUPHROSYNE ;
And by men, heart-easing Mirth.
Judging indeed from the light and easy deportment of this
gay Nymph ; one might guess there were good reasons for
a change of name as she changed her residence.
But of all vices there is none we abhor more than that of
slanderous insinuation. We shall therefore confine our
moral strictures to the Nymph's mother ; in whose defence
the Poet has little to say himself. Here too, as in the case
of the name, there is some doubt. For the uncertainty
of descent on the Father's side having become trite to a
proverb ; the Author, scorning that beaten track, has
Bp.Coplestone.-j [NSINUATION DISCLAIMED; BUT ADOPTED. 627
left us to choose between two mothers for his favourite :
and without much to guide our choice ; for, whichever
we fix upon, it is plain she was no better than she
should be. As he seems however himself inclined to
the latter of the two, we will even suppose it so to be.
Or whether (as some sager say)
The frolic wind that breathes the Spring^
ZEPHYR with AURORA playing,
As he met her once a Maying ;
There on beds of violets blue,
And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, &c.
Some dull people might imagine that the wind was more
like the breath of Spring ; than Spring, the breath of the
wind: but we are more disposed to question the Author's
Ethics than his Physics ; and accordingly cannot dismiss
these May gambols without some observations.
In the first place, Mr. M. seems to have higher notions
of the antiquity of the May Pole than we have been
accustomed to attach to it. Or perhaps he sought to
shelter the equivocal nature of this affair under that
sanction. To us, however, who can hardly subscribe to
the doctrine that "Vice loses half its evil by losing all
its grossness " ; neither the remoteness of time, nor the
gaiety of the season, furnishes a sufficient palliation.
" Violets blue " and " fresh-blown roses " are, to be sure,
more agreeable objects of the Imagination than a gin shop
in Wapping or a booth in Bartholomew Fair ; but, in point
of morality, these are distinctions without a difference :
or it may be the cultivation of mind (which teaches us to
reject and nauseate these latter objects) aggravates the case,
if our improvement in taste be not accompanied by a pro
portionate improvement of morals.
If the Reader can reconcile himself to this latitude of
principle, the anachronism will not long stand in his way.
Much indeed may be said in favour of this union of ancient
Mythology with modern notions and manners. It is a
sort of chronological metaphor— «-an artificial analogy, by
which ideas, widely remote and heterogeneous, are brought
into contact ; and the mind is delighted by this unexpected
assemblage, as it is by the combinations of figurative
language.
628 MOCK QUOTATION FROM BEN JONSON. [ BP- E- ^"P^tone.
Thus in that elegant Interlude, which the pen of BEN
JONSON has transmitted to us, of the loves of HERO and
LEANDER :
Gentles, that no longer your expectations may wander,
Behold our chief actor, amorous LEANDER !
With a great deal of cloth, lapped about him like a scarf :
For he yet serves his father, a Dyer in Puddle Wharf :
Which place we'll make bold with, to call it our Abydus ;
As the Bankside is our Sestos, and let it not be denied us.
And far be it from us to deny the use of so reasonable
a liberty ; especially if the request be backed (as it is in
the case of Mr. M.) by the craving and imperious necessities
of rhyme. What man who has ever bestrode Pegasus for
an hour, will be insensible to such a claim ?
Hand ignara malt miseris succurrere disco.
We are next favoured with an enumeration of the
Attendants of this " debonair " Nymph, in all the minute
ness of a German Dramatis Persona, or a Ropedancer's
Handbill.
Haste thee, Nymph ; and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and cranks and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on HEBE'S cheek
And love to live in dimple sleek ;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
The Author, to prove himself worthy of being admitted
of the crew, skips and capers about upon " the light
fantastic toe," that there is no following him. He scampers
through all the Categories, in search of his imaginary
beings, from Substance to Quality, and back again ; from
thence to Action, Passion, Habit, &c. with incredible
celerity. Who, for instance, would have expected cranks,
nods, becks, and wreathed smiles as part of a group in
which Jest, Jollity, Sport, and Laughter figure away as
full-formed entire Personages ? The family likeness is
certainly very strong in the two last ; and if we had
not been told, we should perhaps have thought the
act of deriding as appropriate to Laughter as to Sport.
Up. E. Coplestone.J LAXITY OF MR. M/S AMATORY NOTIONS ! 629
But how are we to understand the stage directions ?
Come, and trip it as you go.
Are the words used synonymously ? Or is it meant that
this airy gentry shall come in a Minuet step, and go off in a
Jig? The phenomenon of a tripping crank is indeed novel,
and would doubtless attract numerous spectators.
But it is difficult to guess to whom, among this jolly
company, the Poet addresses himself : for immediately after
the Plural appellative you, he proceeds,
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty.
No sooner is this fair damsel introduced ; but Mr M., with
most unbecoming levity, falls in love with her : and makes
a request of her companion which is rather greedy, that
he may live with both of them.
To live with her, and live with thee.
Even the gay libertine who sang " How happy could I be
with either ! " did not go so far as this. But we have
already had occasion to remark on the laxity of Mr M.'s
amatory notions.
The Poet, intoxicated with the charms of his Mistress,
now rapidly runs over the pleasures which he proposes to
himself in the enjoyment of her society. But though he
has the advantage of being his own caterer, either his palate
is of a peculiar structure, or he has not made the most
judicious selection.
To begin the day well, he will have the sky-lark
to come in spite of sorrow
And at his window bid " Good Morrow ! "
The sky-lark, if we know anything of the nature of that bird,
must come " in spite " of something else as well as " of
sorrow," to the performance of this office.
In the next image, the Natural History is better preserved ;
and, as the thoughts are appropriate to the time of day, we
will venture to transcribe the passage, as a favourable
specimen of the Author's manner :
While the Cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn door,
Stoutly struts his dames before ;
40 a
630 Mr. MILTON LIKENED TOCHANTICLEER. [Bp- E- Cop!e!X;
Oft listening how the hounds and horns
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing still.
Is it not lamentable that, after all, whether it is the Cock, or
the Poet, that listens, should be left entirely to the Reader's
conjectures ? Perhaps also his embarrassment may be in
creased by a slight resemblance of character in these two
illustrious Personages, at least as far as relates to the extent
and numbers of their seraglio.
After a flaming description of sunrise, on which the clouds
attend in their very best liveries ; the Bill of Fare for the day
proceeds in the usual manner. Whistling Ploughmen, sing
ing Milkmaids, and sentimental Shepherds are always to be
had at a moment's notice ; and, if well grouped, serve to fill
up the landscape agreeably enough.
On this part of the Poem we have only to remark, that
if Mr JOHN MILTON proposeth to make himself merry with
Russet lawns, and fallows grey
Where the nibbling flocks do stray ;
Mountains on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest,
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide,
Towers and battlements, &c. &c. &c.
he will either find himself egregiously disappointed ; or he
must possess a disposition to merriment which even
DEMOCRITUS himself might envy. To such a pitch indeed
does this solemn indication of joy sometimes rise, that we are
inclined to give him credit for a literal adherence to the
Apostolic precept, " Is any merry, let him sing Psalms ! "
At length, however, he hies away at the sound of bell-
ringing, and seems for some time to enjoy the tippling and
fiddling and dancing of a village wake : but his fancy is
soon haunted again by spectres and goblins, a set of beings
not, in general, esteemed the companions or inspirers of mirth.
With stories told of many a feat,
How fairy MAB the junkets eat.
She was pinched, and pulled, she said :
E. CoPleStogne.
e.-| jyjR ty[ MAy WRITE NURSERY TALES. 631
And he, by friar's Ian them led,
Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat
To earn his cream-bowl duly set ;
When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy Flail hath threshed the corn
• That ten day-labourers could not end.
Then lies him down the lubbar Fiend ;
And, stretched out all the chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength :
And, crop-full, out of door he flings
Ere the first cock his Matins rings.
Mr. M. seems indeed to have a turn for this species of
Nursery Tales and prattling Lullabies ; and, if he will
studiously cultivate his talent, he need not despair of figuring
in a conspicuous corner of Mr NEWBERY'S shop window :
unless indeed Mrs. TRIMMER should think fit to proscribe
those empty levities and idle superstitions, by which the
World has been too long abused.
From these rustic fictions, we are transported to another
species of hum.
Towered cities please us then,
And the busy hum of men ;
Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold,
In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold :
With store of Ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence^ and judge the Prize
Of Wit or Arms ; while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commend.
To talk of the bright eyes of Ladies judging the Prize of
Wit is indeed with the Poets a legitimate species of humming :
but would not, we may ask, the rain from these Ladies'
bright eyes rather tend to dim their lustre ? Or is there any
quality in a shower of influence ; which, instead of deadening,
serves only to brighten and exhilarate ?
Whatever the case may be, we would advise Mr. M. by all
means to keep out of the way of these " Knights and Barons
bold " : for, if he has nothing but his Wit to trust to, we will
venture to predict that, without a large share of most undue
influence, he must be content to see the Prize adjudged to
his competitors.
632 MR. M. SEEMS TO HAVE SOME FANCY ! ! [Bp' El CoplestI££
Of the latter part of the Poem little need be said.
The Author does seem somewhat more at home when he
gets among the Actors and Musicians : though his head is
still running upon ORPHEUS and EURYDICE and PLUTO, and
other sombre personages ; who are ever thrusting themselves
in where we least expect them, and who chill every rising
emotion of mirth and gaiety.
He appears however to be so ravished with this sketch of
festive pleasures, or perhaps with himself for having sketched
them so well, that he closes with a couplet which would not
have disgraced a STERNHOLD.
These delights if thou canst give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live.
Of Mr. M.'s good intentions there can be no doubt ; but we
beg leave to remind him that there are two opinions to be
consulted. He presumes perhaps upon the poetical powers
he has displayed, and considers them as irresistible : for every
one must observe in how different a strain he avows his
attachment now, and at the opening of the Poem. Then it was
If I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew !
But having, it should seem, established his pretensions ; he
now thinks it sufficient to give notice that he means to live
with her, because he likes her.
Upon the whole, Mr. MlLTON seems to be possessed of
some fancy and talent for rhyming ; two most dangerous
endowments which often unfit men for acting a useful part
in life without qualifying them for that which is great and
brilliant. If it be true, as we have heard, that he has declined
advantageous prospects in business, for the sake of indulging
his poetical humour ; we hope it is not yet too late to prevail
upon him to retract his resolution. With the help of COCKER
and common industry, he may become a respectable
Scrivener : but it is not all the ZEPHYRS, and AURORAS, and
CORYDONS, and THYRSIS'S ; aye, nor his " junketing Queen
MAB " and " drudging Goblins," that will ever make him a
Poet.
633
W. HUNNEMAN.
Old King COLE^ his life and death.
[ ? Written between 1830 and 1837
I.
LD King COLE was a merry old Soul,
And a merry old Soul was he :
He called for his Pipe, and he called for
his Glass,
And he called for his Fiddlers three.
There were PA-GAN-IN-I and SPAGNIO-
LETTI,
And to make up the three, MORI :
For King COLE he was fond of a Tri-
O, fond of a Trio was he.
For old King COLE was a merry old Soul,
And a merry old Soul was he :
He called for his Pipe, and he called for his Glass,
And he called for his Fiddlers three.
2.
Old King COLE kept Court at the " Hole
'o the Wall " in Chancery
lane, near the street which is termed " Fleet "
(A queer name for Chancery ! ) :
So his subjects to cloak from the very provok
ing Bills of an Attorney ;
Old King COLE turned his eyes to COKE,
and a very good Lawyer was he.
For old King COLE, &c.
634
OLD KING COLE.
.1830- 1837.
3-
Old King COLE, though a merry old Soul,
Not read nor write could he ;
For to read and write, 'twere useless quite
When he kept a Secretary.
So his mark for Rex was a single " X,"
And his drink was ditto double :
For he scorned the fetters of four and twenty Letters,
And it saved him a vast deal of trouble.
For old King COLE, &c.
Old King COLE was a musical Soul,
So he called for his Fiddlers three ;
And he served 'em out a dozen pounds of best German resin,
And they played him a Symphony.
SPAGNIOLETTI and MORI, they play an Oratori ;
While the great PA-GAN-IN-I
Played God save the King, on a single string ;
And he went twelve octaves high !
For old King COLE, &c.
5-
Old King COLE loved smoking to his Soul,
And a Pipe hard, clean, and dry ;
And Virginny and Canaster, from his Baccy Box went faster
Than the " Dart " or the Brighton " Fly."
With his Fiddlers three, and his Secretary,
He'd kick up such a furious fume ;
You'd think all the gas of London in a mass
Had met in his little back room.
For old King COLE, &c.
1830-1837..
OLD KING COLE.
6.
635
Old King COLE was a mellow old Soul
And he loved for to lave his clay :
But not with water ; for he had in that quarter
An hy-dro-pho-bi-a.
So he always ordered Hemp for those that joined a Temp
erance Society ;
And he swore a Drop too much, should always finish such
As refused for to wet t'other eye.
For old King COLE, &c.
7-
On old King COLE'S left cheek was a mole,
So he called for his Secretary ;
And bade him look in a Fortune-telling Book,
And read him his destiny.
And the Secretary said, when his fate he had read,
And cast his nativity,
A mole on the face boded something would take place;
But not what that something might be.
For old King COLE, &c.
8.
Old King COLE, he scratched his poll ;
And resigned to his fate was he :
And he said, " It is our will, that our Pipe and Glass you fill,
And call for our Fiddlers three."
So PAGAN-IN-I took VIOTTI in G ;
And his Concerto played he :
But at page forty-four, King COLE began to snore :
So they parted company.
For old King COLE, &t.
636
OLD KING COLE.
9-
1830-1837.
Old King COLE drank so much Alcohol
That he reeked like the worm of a still ;
And, while lighting his pipe, he set himself alight,
And he blew up like a gunpowder mill.
And these are the whole of the records of King COLE
From the COTTON Library ;
If you like you can see 'em at the British Museum
In Russell Street, Bloomsbury.
For old King COLE was a merry old Soul,
And a merry old Soul was he :
He called for his Pipe, and he called for his Glass,
And he called for his Fiddlers three.
THE END OF THE
(gofume
OF
AN ENGLISH GARNER,
INGATHERINGS FROM OUR HISTORY AND LITERATURE:
COMPLETING THE SERIES.
PR Arber, Edward (ed.)
1121 An English garner
v.8
-
X
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