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For whilst king Edward only doth attend
A happy voyage to the Holy Land,
For which the laity mighty sums did lend,
E'en whilst this business hotly was in hand,

See but to me what fortune there can fall,
This conqueror's death hath quickly alter'd all!
Should I presume his praises to report,
Thinking thereby to grace his so great name,
My mean endeavours would fall far too short,
And I too much should but impair his fame;

I'll leave that to some sacred Muse to tell,
Upon whose life a poet's pen might dwell.
Scarce was his body lapp'd up in the lead,
Before his doleful obsequies were done,
When England's crown was set on Edward's head,
With whom too soon my joyful days begun,

As the black night at the approaching day, My former sorrows vanished away. Edward Carnarvon calls me from exile, Whom Edward Longhanks banish'd to his death; I, whom the father held most base and vile, Was to the son as precious as his breath: [blot, What th' old king writ, the young king forth did Th' alive's remember'd, dead men's words forgot. The fair wind wafts me to that wish'd-for place, And sets me safely on that blessed shore, From whence I seem'd but banish'd for a space, That my return might honour'd be the more,

There to my lov'd lord happily to leave me, Whose arms were cast wide open to receive me. Who would have seen that noble Roman dame, O'ercome with joy, give up her vital breath, Her son returning sounded in by Fame, When thankful Rome had mourned for his death, Might here behold her personated right, At my approach to my dear Edward's sight. My Jove now lord of the ascendant is, In an aspect to promise happy speed, And such on me that influence of his,

As prais'd the course wherein we did proceed; Yet most prodigious it to some appears, Telling the troubles of ensuing years. When, like to Midas, all I touch'd was gold, Upon me show'r'd, as into Danae's lap, For I obtained any thing I would, So well had Fortune lotted out my hap: For princes' treasures like to oceans are, To whom all rivers naturally repair. The Isle of Man the first to me he gave, He could not stay, until I would demand; And to be sure to give ere I could crave, I next received from his bounteous hand Fair Wallingford, which many years had been The wealthy dow'r of Elenor the queen. Those sums his father had been levying long By impositions for the war abroad, Others his princely benefits among, At once on me he liberally bestow'd,

When some that saw how much on me he cast,
Perceiv'd his wealth could not maintain his waste.
He gave me then his secretary's place,
Thereby to train me in affairs of state;
Me in those rooms, that I was in, to grace,
And earl of Cornwal frankly did create;

Besides, in court more freely to partake me,
Of England he high chamberlain did make me.

And to the royal blood me to ally,

(Which did but back my humour of ambition) In bands of wedlock did to me affy

A lady of an excellent condition,

Which Joan of Arches his dear sister bare To th' earl of Glo'ster, that right noble Clare. O blessed bounty, giving all content! The only fautress of all noble arts, That lend'st success to every good intent, A grace that rests in the most godlike hearts, By Heaven to none but happy souls infused, Pity it is that e'er thou wast abused. When those here first that my exile procur'd, Which in my heart still hated did abide, As they before by no means me endur'd, So were they now impatient of my pride: For emulation ever did attend

Upon the great, and shall so to the end. To cross whom, into favour I wrought those, That from mean places lifted up by me, Being factious spirits, were fittest to oppose Them, that perhaps too powerful else might be, That against envy raised by my hand, Must uphold me, to make themselves to stand. Having my frame so cunningly contriv'd, To bolster me in my ambitious ways, I show'd the king my hate to be deriv'd From those high honours that he on me lays, Drawing him on (my courses to partake) Still to maintain what he himself did make. Thus did my youth but exercise extremes, My heed was rashness to forerun my fall, My wit but folly, and my hopes but dreams, My counsel serv'd myself but to enthral,

Abusing me but with a vain illusion,
And all together hasting my confusion.
When as king Edward hast'neth his repair,
T' espouse the princess Isabel of France,
Daughter to Philip that was call'd the Fair,
By which he thought his strength much to advance;
And here at home to perfect my command,
He left me the protection of the land.

Giving me power so absolute withal,
That I drank pleasure in a plenteous cup,
When there was none me to account to call,
All to my hands so freely render'd up,

That Heav'n on me no greater bliss could bring,
Except to make me greater than my king.
Thus being got as high as I could climb,
With this abundance beyond measure blest,
I thought t' embrace the benefit of time,
Fully to take what freely I possess'd;

Holding for truth that he is worse than mad, Fondly to spare, a prince's wealth that had. Their counsel then continually I cross'd, As scorning their authority and blood, And those things that concern'd their honours most, In those against them evermore I stood,

And things for public, privately did spend To feed my riot, that could find no end. Until false Fortune, like a treacherous foe, Which had so long attended on my fall, In the plain path wherein I was to go, Lay'd many a bait to train me on withal, Till by her skill she cunningly had brought me Into the trap where she at pleasure caught me.

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For when the barons hotly went in hand,
With tilts and tourneys for the king's return,
To show the French the glory of the land,
The fixed day I labour'd to adjourn,

Till all their charge was lastly overthrown,
Who could abide no glory but mine own.
Thus sought my fate me forward still to set,
As though some engine seiz'd me with a slight:
One mischief soon a second doth beget,
The second brings a third but on too right,
And every one itself employeth wholly
In their just course to prosecute my folly.
For when the barons found me to retain.
Th' ambitious course wherein I first began,
And deeply felt, that under my disdain,
Into contempt continually they ran,

They took up arms to remedy their wrong,
Which their cold spirits had suffer'd but too long.
Me boldly charging to abuse the king,
A wasteful spender of his wealth and treasure,
A secret thief of many a sacred thing,
And that I led him to unlawful pleasure;

Who never did in any thing delight,

But what might please my bestial appetite.
That like a sickness on the land was sent,
Whose hateful courses the chief cause had been
The commonwealth thus totter'd was and rent,
And worse and worse yet every day foreseen.

Thus was I scandal'd publicly of many,
Who pitied none, nor pity'd was of any.
And since I thus was match'd by men of might,
The king, my danger that discreetly weigh'd,
Seeing them to pursue me with such spite,
Me into Ireland secretly convey'd,

Till with my peers my peace he might procure,
Or might my safety otherwise assure.
Like one, whose house remedilessly burning,
Seeing his goods long heap'd together lost,
The mischief no whit lessen'd by his mourning,
Taketh some one thing that he loveth most,

And to some sure place doth with that retire,
Leaving the rest to th' mercy of the fire.
And he that nought too dear for me did deem,
So it might serve to cover my disgrace,
To make my absence otherwise to seem,
And to the world to bear a fairer face,

Lest my exile, suggested by their hate,

In England here perhaps might wound my state:
By their wise counsel that were him about,
Of Ireland he me deputy doth make,
And caus'd it cach-where to be given out,
My journey therefore thither I did take,

To stop their mouths, that gladly would embrace
The least thing that might sound to my disgrace.
Whereas he set me in that princely sort,
As in my place might purchase me renown,
With no less bounty to maintain a court,
Than hourly crav'd th' revenues of a crown,
Thither his bounty so much did me bring,
That though he reign'd, yet there was I a king.
There were few weeks, but some the Channel cross'd
With sundry presents of a wond'rous price,
Some jewel that him infinitely cost,
Or some rich robe of excellent device,

That they which saw what he upon me threw,
Well might discern some change must needs ensue.

And since the flow me follow'd in this wise,
The fulness I as amply entertain,
It had been folly to have seen'd precise,
To take that which fell on me like the rain,
Such as before no age had ever seen,

And since he was, I think, hath seldom been.
So that, when the bold barony had found
The cunning us'd in covering of my flight,
That shifted me but to a surer ground,
On which they vainly had bestow'd their might,
Perceiv'd far off that greater peril rose,
Than they could find how fitly to dispose.
Like those that strive to stop some swelling source,
(Whose plenty none can comprehend in bounds)
Which climbs above th' opposers of his course,
And that which should encircle it surrounds,
That so innated in itself is blest,

That 'tis the more, the more it is deprest.
For fearing much the force I had abroad,
Who knew the way the Irish hearts to win,
They thought me better here to be bestow'd,
And for the state more safely far therein,
Where tho' my spoil they hop'd not to prevent,
Yet could they see the giddy course I went.

[me,

Of which they scarcely had conceiv'd the thought,
And did thereto but seemingly descend,
But that the king immediately it caught,
Nor car'd he by it what they did intend.
Plot what they could, so he thereby might gain
Once in his court again to entertain me.
What is so hard, but majesty commands,
Yea, and severely humbleth with the eye?
Whose very nod acts with a thousand hands,
In it such virtue secretly doth lie,

Having t' uphold it the high power of fate,
It is imperious both o'er love and hate.
This king, who no occasion could neglect,
That aught me to my happiness might win,
Did with such care my bus'ness effect,
And ever was so fortunate therein,

That he to pass in little time did bring,
What most men thought to be a doubtful thing.
When posts away with their full packets went,
Me out of Ireland instantly to call,
Allow'd of by the general consent,
Although not lik'd of inwardly of all;

Yet 'twas sufficient that it freedom gave me,
But to be here where he desir'd to have me.
My proud sails swelling with a prosp'rous wind,
The boist'rous seas did homage to mine eyes,
And much above their usual course were kind,
All low'ring clouds abandoning the skies,

Nothing discern'd in any star to fear me,
Fortune herself sat at the helm to steer me.
What time the king a progress needs would make
Into North-Wales, his native place to see,
Which was indeed but only for my sake,
Who at West-Chester knew to meet with me,
And there, with all the state he could devise,
To do me honour in the people's eyes.
Where for my landing long he did provide,
That nought might want to nourish my delight,
And at each lodging as along we ride,
He entertain'd me with some pleasing sight;
And that the reahn our friendship might report,
We enter'd London in this royal sort.

Which prov'd sharp spurs to my untam'd desire,
Lending the reigns to my lascivious will,
And put me forth upon my full career,
On places slippery, and my manage ill:

Small my foresight, and over-much my haste,
Which me, alas! unfortunately cast.
King Edward's ear when having a command,
Who aught would have, he must me entertain;
And yet before it pass'd my gripple hand,
I share the great'st part to my private gain;
Nor car'd I what from any I could wring,
So I might coin into my coffers bring.
Then daily begg'd I great monopolies,
Taking the lands belonging to the crown,
Transporting all the best commodities
Useful to England, needed of her own,
And basely sold all offices, till then
The due reward of well-deserving men.

And being inconsiderately proud,

Held all things vile that suited not my vein;
Nothing might pass, but that which I allow'd,
A great opinion to my wit to gain,

Giving vile terms and nick-names of disgrace,
To men of great birth, and of greater place.
Whereby brake out that execrable rage,
Which long before had boiled in their blood,
Themselves by oath against me they engage,
Who thus had all authority withstood,

And in the quarrel up their arms do take,
Or to mar all, or better it to make.
They durst affirm my mother was a witch,
And in the fire condemned burnt to be,
And I her son, so rightly of her pitch,
She had bequeath'd her sorceries to me;
Urging it on, for a most certain thing,
That I by magic wrought upon the king.
And into France they charg'd me to convey
A goodly table of pure massy gold,
A relique kept in Windsor many a day,
Which to king Arthur did belong of old,
Upon whose margent, as they did surmise,
There were engraven Merlin's prophesies.
And by appealing to the see of Rome,
They soon procur'd a legate to the land,
With malediction by the church's doom,
Upon that man, which on my part should stand;
The king suspending, should he not consent,
To ratify the barony's intent.

Which they to purpose prosp'rously effect,
Then at full strength, to counterpoise his force;
Having withal the clergy to direct
Them the best way in their resistless course,
Till at the last king Edward they procure,
By solemn oath me ever to abjure.
Th' uncertain issue of each earthly thing,
Set out most lively in my star-crost state,
That doth remain in Fortune's managing,
Appearing in my variable fate:

On me that frown'd and flatter'd me so oft, Casting me down, then setting me aloft. To Flanders then my present course I cast, Which as the fair'st, so fittest for my ease: That way is saf'st that soonest can be past, All not my friends that were abroad at seas; Such friends in France they daily did procure, That there myself I doubted to secure.

Where, though I chang'd my habit and my name,
Hoping thereby to live unknown to any;
Yet swift report had so divulg'd ray shame,
My hateful life was publish'd to too many,
That as I pass'd through every street along,
I was the tale of every common tongue.
From whence I found a secret means, to have
Intelligence with my kind lord the king,
Who fail'd no month, but he me notice gave
What the proud barons had in managing;

And labour'd then, as he had done before,
Me into England safely to restore.

For which relying on my sovereign's love,
To whom as life I had been ever dear,
Which ne'er than now I had more need to prove,
Who strove t' obtain, if any mean there were,
A dispensation for his former oath,
In their despite that thereto seem'd most loth.
Which long debating, we resolv'd at length,
Since I by marriage strongly was ally`d,

I at this pinch should stand upon my strength,
And should for England, hap what could betide,
And in a ship that for my passage lay,
Thither myself to secretly convey.

Where safely landed on the wished shore,
With speed to court I closely me betook,
Yet gave the king intelligence before,
About what time he there for me should look,
Who was devising, when I should arrive,
The surest way my safety to contrive.
Which the lords finding, whilst their blood was hot,
That to themselves then only were to trust;
For what before was done, avail'd them not,
And for my sake they found the king unjust,

Bringing thereby, whilst trifling they do stand,
Spoil on themselves, and peril on the land.
Who was so dull, that did not then distaste,
That thus the king his nobles should neglect?
And those in court we for our purpose plac'd,
Gave us just cause their dealings to suspect,

And they that view'd us with the pleased'st eye, Yet at our actions often look'd awry. Which made king Edward presently provide A chosen convoy of his chiefest friends, To guard me safe to York, to be supply'd With foreign succours, and to Scotland sends To warlike Baliol, and to Wales, from whence He hop'd for power to frustrate their pretence. But they his agents quickly intercept, Not then to seek in so well known a thing, And both the Marches they so strictly kept, That none could enter to assist the king,

Only to chastise my abhorred sin,

Who had the cause of all these troubles been. Thus like a ship, despoiled of her sails, Shov'd by the wind against the streamful tide, This way the one, that way the other hales, Now tow'rds this shore, and now tow'rds thatdoth ride, As that poor vessel's, such my brittle stay, The nearer land, the nearer cast away. Thou kingdom's cor'sive, home-begotten hate, In any limits never that wast bounded, When didst thou yet seize upon any state, By thee that was not utterly confounded? How many empires be there that do rue thee? Happy the world was till too well it knew thee.

1

Thus of all succour utterly bereft,
Only some small force that we had at sea,
For us to trust to, Fortune had us left,
On which our hopes upon this up-cast lay,
Which we to hasten speedily do make,
Our former courses forced to forsake.
Our present peril happ'ning to be so,
That did for aid importunately call,
Wherefore in York, as safest from the foe,
He left me to the keeping of the wall,

Till his return me further aid might give,
Whom more and more he studied to relieve.
The barons then from Bedford setting on,
Th' appointed rendy where they gath'red head,
When they had notice that the king was gone,
Tow'rds Yorkshire with celerity them sped,

To seize my person purposed that were, [bear.
Whose presence else might make them to for.
When leaving York, to Scarborough I post,
With that small force the city had to lend me,
The strongest fort that stood upon the coast,
And of all other likest to defend me,

Which at the worst, from whence, in their
despite,

The hills at hand might privilege my flight.
But they which kept the country round about,
Upon each passage set so watchful spics,
Of well-wall'd York that I was scarcely out,
But on their light-horse after me they rise,
And suddenly they in upon me came,
Ere I had time to get into the same.
Thence with intent tow'rds Oxford to convey me,
When by the way, as birds do at the owl,
Some wonder'd at me, some again did bay me,
As hungry wolves at passengers do howl:

Each one rejoicing that I thus was caught,
Who on the land these miseries had brought.
Conducted thus to Dedington at last,
Where th' earl of Pembroke will'd me to be stay'd,
To understand before they further pass'd,
What by the king could on my side be said

About this business, and tow'rds Edward went,
T'acquaint him with the general intent.
But th' earl of Warwick (lying but too near)
The dog of Arden that I us'd to call,
Who mortal hatred did me ever bear,
He whom I most suspected of them all,
Thither repairing with his powerful band,
Seized upon me with a violent hand.
To Warwick castle carrying me along,
(Where he had long desired me to get)
With friends and tenants absolutely strong,
Whom all the puissant barony abet,

Which since occasion offer'd them such hold,
Hasten my death by all the means they could.
North from the town, a mile or very near,
A little hill in public view doth lie,
That's called Blacklow of the dwellers there,
Near to the ancient hermitage of Guy,

To which the lords me as a traitor led,
And on a scaffold took away my head.
My life and fortunes lively thus exprest,
In the sad tenour of my tragic tale,
Let me return to the fair fields of rest,
Thither transported with a prosp'rous gale,
And leave the world my destiny to view,
Bidding it thus eternally adieu,

THE LEGEND OF THOMAS CROMWELL
EARL OF ESSEX.

AWAR'D, and trembling betwixt rage and dread
With the loud slander (by the impious time)
That of my actions every where is spread,
Through which to honour falsely I should climb:
From the sad dwelling of th' untimely dead,
To quit me of that execrable crime,

Cromwell appears, his wretched plight to show,
Much that can tell, as one that much did know.
Roughly not made up in the common mould,
That with the vulgar vilely I should die,
What thing so strange of Cromwell is not told?
What man more prais'd? who more condemn'd
Most 'twere unfit that Fame of me should lie,
That with the world when I am waxed old, [than I?

With fables vain my history to fill,
Forcing my good, excusing of my ill.
You, that but hearing of my hated name,
Your ancient malice instantly bewray,
And for my sake your ill-deserved blame
Upon my legend publicly shall lay,
Would you forbear to blast me with defame,
Might I so mean a privilege but pray,

He that three ages had endur'd your wrong,
Hear him a little, who hath heard you long.
Since Rome's sad ruin here by me began,
Who her religion pluck'd up by the root,
Of the false world such hate for which 1 wan,
Which still at me her poisoned'st darts doth shoot;
That to excuse it, do the best I can,
Little, I fear, my labour me will boot :

Yet will I speak, my troubled heart to ease,
Much to the mind herself it is to please.

O powerful number, from whose stricter law
Heart-moving music did receive the ground,
With the brute beast when lawless he was found:
Which man to fair civility did draw,
O, if according to the wiser saw,
There be a high divinity in sound,

Be now abundant, prosp'rously to aid
The pen prepar'd my doubtful case to plead.
Putney the place made blessed by my birth,
Whose meanest cottage simply me did shroud,
To me as dearest of the English earth;
So of my bringing that poor village proud,
Though in a time when never less the dearth
Of happy wits, yet mine so well allow'd,

That with the best she boldly durst prefer
Me, that my breath acknowledged from her.
Twice flow'd proud Thames, as at my coming
Striking the wond'ring borderers with fear, [woo'd,
And the pale Genius of that aged flood,
To my sick mother labouring did appear,
And with a countenance much distracted stood,
Threat'ning the fruit her pained womb should bear;
My speedy birth being added thereunto,
Seem'd to foretel that much I came to do.
Who was reserved for those worser days,
As the great ebb unto so long a flow,
When what those ages formerly did raise,
This, when I liv'd, did lastly overthrow,
And that great'st labour of the world did seize,
Only for which immedicable blow,

Due to that time, me dooming Heaven ordain'd,
Wherein confusion absolutely reign'd.

Vainly yet noted this prodigious sign,
Often predictions of most fearful things,
As plagues, or war, or great men to decline,
Rising of commons, or the death of kings;
But some strange news though ever it divine,
Yet forth them not immediately it brings,
Until th' effects men afterward did learn,
To know that me it chiefly did concern.

Whilst yet my father by his painful trade,
Whose labour'd anvil only was his fee,

Whom my great tow'rdness strongly did persuade,
In knowledge to have educated me;
But death did him unluckily invade,
Ere he the fruits of his desire could see,
Leaving me young, then little that did know,
How me the Heavens had purpos'd to bestow.
Hopeless as helpless most might me suppose,
Whose meanness seem'd their abject breath to
Yet did my breast that glorious fire inclose, [draw:
Which their dull purblind ignorance not saw,
Which still is settled upon outward shows,
The vulgar's judgment ever is so raw,

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Which the unworthiest sottishly do love,
In their own region properly that move.
Yet me my fortune so could not disguise,
But through this cloud were some that did me
Which than the rest more happy, or more wise,
Me did relieve, when I was driven low,
Which, as the stairs by which I first did rise,
When to my height I afterward did grow,

Them to requite, my bounties were so high,
As made my fame through every ear to fly.

That height and godlike purity of mind,
Resteth not still, where titles most adorn
With any, nor peculiarly coufin'd
To names, and to be limited doth scorn:
Man doth the most degenerate from kind,
Richest and poorest both alike are born;
And to be always pertinently good,
Follows not still the greatness of our blood.
Pity it is, that to one virtuous man
That mark him lent, to gentry to advance,
Which first by noble industry he wan,
His baser issue after should enhance,
And the rude slave not any good that can,
Such should thrust down by what is his by chance:
As had not he been first that him did raise,
Ne'er had his great heir wrought his grandsire's
praise.

How weak art thou, that makest it thy end
To heap such worldly dignities on thee,
When upon Fortune only they depend,
And by her changes governed must be?
Besides the dangers still that such attend,
Liveliest of all men pourtray'd out in me,

When that, for which I hated was of all,
Soon'st from me fled, scarce tarrying for my fall.
You that but boast your ancestors' proud stile,
And the large stem whence your vain greatness
grew,

When you yourselves are ignorant and vile,
Nor glorious thing dare actually pursue,
That all good spirits would utterly exile,
Doubting their worth should else discover you,
Giving yourselves unto ignoble things,
Base I proclaim you, though deriv'd from kings.

Virtue, but poor, God in this Earth doth place,
'Gainst the rude world to stand up in his right,
To suffer sad affliction and disgrace,
Nor ceasing to pursue her with despite:
Yet when of all she is accounted base,
And seeming in most miserable plight,

Out of her power new life to her doth take,
Least then dismay'd, when all do her forsake.
That is the man of an undaunted spirit,
For her dear sake that offereth him to die,
For whom, when him the world doth disinherit,
Looketh upon it with a pleased eye,
What's done for virtue thinking it doth merit,
Daring the proudest menaces defy,

More worth than life, howe'er the base world
rate him,
[him.
Belov'd of Heaven, although the Earth doth hate
Injurious Time, unto the good unjust,
O! how may weak posterity suppose
Ever to have their merit from the dust,
'Gainst them thy partiality that knows?
To thy report, O who shall ever trust,
Triumphant arches building unto those,

Allow'd the longest memory to have,
That were the most unworthy of a grave?
But my clear metal had that powerful heat,
As it not turn'd with all that Fortune could:
Nor when the world me terriblest did threat,
Could win that place, which my high thoughts did
That waxed still more prosperously great, [hold,
The more the world me strove to have controll'd,
On mine own columns constantly to stand,
Without the false help of another's hand.

My youthful course thus wisely did I steer,
T'avoid those rocks my wrack that else did threat;
Yet some fair hopes from far did still appear,
If that too much my wants did me not let :
Wherefore myself above myself to bear,
Still as I grew, I knowledge strove to get,

To perfect that which in the embryo was,
Whose birth, I found, time well might bring
to pass.

But when my means to fail me I did find,
Myself to travel presently I took :
For 'twas distasteful to my noble mind,
That the vile world into my wants should look,
Being besides industriously inclin'd,
To measure others' actions with my book,
My judgment more to rectify thereby,
In matters that were difficult and high.
When lo it happ'd, that Fortune, as my guide,
Of me did with such providence dispose,
That th' English merchants then, who did reside
At Antwerp, me their secretary chose,
(As though in me to manifest her pride)
Whence to those principalities I rose,

To pluck me down, whom afterward she fear'd,
Beyond her power that almost she had rear'd.
When first the wealthy Netherlands me train'd,
In wise commerce most proper to that place,
And from my country carefully me wain'd,
As with the world it meant to win me grace,
Where great experience happily I gain'd;.
Yet here I seem'd but tutor'd for a space,
For high employment otherwise ordain'd,
Till which the time I idly entertain'd.

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