Book 8
THE EIGHTTH
BOOKE.
1
O N yet, sad Verse: though those bright starres, from whence
Thou hadst thy light, are set for euermore;
And that these times do not like grace dispense
To our indeuours, as those did before:
Yet on; since She, whose beames do reincense
This sacred fire, seemes as reseru'd in store
To raise this Worke, and here to haue my last;
Who had the first of all my labours past.
2
On (with her blessed fauour) and relate,
With what new bloud-shed, this new chosen Lord
Made his first entry to th'afflicted State,
Past his first Act of publique, with the sword,
Ingor'd his new-worne Crowne, and how he gat
Possession of affliction, and restor'd
His Right vnto a Royall miserie;
Maintainèd with as bloudy dignitie.
3
Shew, how our great Pharsalian Field was fought
At Towton in the North; the greatest day
Of ruine, that dissension euer brought
Vnto this Kingdom: where, two Crownes did sway
The worke of slaughter; two Kings Causes wrought
Destruction to one People, by the waie
Of their affections, and their loyalties;
As if one, for these ills, could not suffise.
4
Where Lancaster and that couragious side
(That noble constant Part) came furnished
With such a Powre, as might haue terrifi'd
And ouer-run the earth; had they been led
The way of glory, where they might haue tri'd
For th'Empire of all Europe , as those did
The Macedonian led into the East;
Their number being double, at the least.
5
And where braue Yorke comes as compleatly mand,
With courage, valour, and with equall might;
Prepar'd to trie with a resolued hand,
The metall of his Crown, and of his Right:
Attended with his fatall fier-brand
Of Warre, Warwicke ; that blazing starre of fight,
The Comet of destruction, that portends
Confusion, and distresse, what way he tends.
6
What rage, what madness, England , do we see?
That this braue people, in such multitude
Run to confound themselues, and all to be
Thus mad for Lords , and for meere Seruitude,
What might haue been, if (Roman-like, and free)
These gallant Spirits had nobler ends pursu'd,
And strayn'd to points of glory and renowme,
For good of the Republique and their owne?
7
But, here no Cato with a Senate stood
For Common-wealth: nor here were any sought
T'emancipate the State, for publique good;
But onely, headlong, for their faction wrought.
Here, euery man runs-on to spend his bloud,
To get but what he had already got.
For, whether Pompey , or a Cæsar wonne,
Their state was euer sure to be all one.
8
And, first, before these fatall Armies met,
Had forward Warwicke lay'd the passage free,
At Berry Brigges : where the Lord Clifford (set
With an aduentrous gallant companie
To guard that streight, Yorkes farther march to let)
Began the Scene to this great Tragedie;
Made the first entrance on the Stage of blood:
Which now, set wide for wounds, all open stood.
9
When, Edward to exhort his men began,
With words, whereto both spirit and Maiestie
His pers'nage gave; for-that he was a man
(Besides a King) whose Crowne sate gracefully:
Com'n is the day, sayd he, wherin who can
Obtaine the best, is Best: this day must try
Who hath the wrong, and whence our ills haue beene:
And tis our swords must make vs honest men.
10
For though our Cause, by God and men allow'd,
Hath in it honor, right, and honestie:
Yet all, as nothing, is to be avow'd,
Vnless withall, we haue the victorie.
For, Iustice is (we see) a virtue proud,
And leanes to powre, and leaues weake miserie.
And therefore, seeing the case we now stand in,
We must resolue either to dy or winne.
11
So that if any here doth finde his heart
To fayle him, for this noble worke, or stands
Irresolute this day; let him depart,
And leaue his Armes behind, for worthier hands.
I knowe, enow will stay to doo their part,
Here to redeeme themselues, wiues, children, landes,
And haue the glory that thereby shall rise,
To free their Country from these miseries.
12
But here, what needed wordes to blowe the fire
In flame already, and inkindled so
As when it was proclaym'd, they might retire
Who found vnwillingnes to vnder-goe
That ventrous worke; they all did so conspire
To stand out Fortune, that not one would goe,
To beare away a hand from bloud; not one
Defraud the Fie'd of th'euill might be done.
13
Where VVarwicke too (producing, in their sight,
An argument, whereby he did conclude
There was no hope of safetie, but by fight)
Doth sacrifize his horse, to Fortitude:
And thereby did the least conceipt of flight,
Or any succour, by escape, exclude;
“Se'ing, in the streight of a necessitie,
“The meanes to win, is t'haue no meanes to flye.
14
It was vpon the twi-light of that day
(That peacefull day) when the Religious beare
The Oliue-branches as they go to pray,
(And we, in lieu, the blooming Palme vse here)
When both the Armies, ready in array
For th'early sacrifize of blood, appeare
Prepar'd for mischiefe, ere they had full light
To see to doo it, and to doo it right.
15
Th'aduantage of the time, and of the winde
(Which, both, with Yorke seeme as retayn'd in pay)
Braue Faulconbridge takes hold-on, and assign'd
The Archers their flight-shafts to shoote away:
Which, th'aduerse side (with sleet and dimnesse, blinde,
Mistaken in the distance of the way)
Answere with their sheafe-arrowes; that came short
Of their intended ayme, and did no hurt;
16
But, gath'red by th'on-marching Enemy,
Returned were, like clowdes of steele; which powre
Destruction downe, and did new-night the sky:
As if the Day had fayl'd to keepe his howre.
Whereat, the ranged horse breake-out, deny
Obedience to the Riders, scorne their powre,
Disrank the troupes, set all in disarray,
To make th'Assaylant owner of the day.
17
Thus, thou peculiar Ingine of our Land
(Weapon of Conquest, Maister of the Field)
Renowmed Boaw (that mad'st this Crowne command
The towres of Fraunce , and all their powres to yeeld)
Art made at home to haue th'especiall hand
In our dissensions, by thy worke vp-held:
Thou first didst conquer vs; then rays'd our skill
To vanquish others; here our selues to spill.
18
And now how com'st thou to be out of date,
And all neglected leav'st vs, and art gone?
And with thee, th'ancient strength, the manly state
Of valor, and of worth, that glory wonne?
Or else stay'st thou, till new-priz'd shot abate?
(That neuer shall affect what thou hast don)
And onely but attend'st some blessed Raigne,
When thou and Virtue shalt be grac't againe.
19
But, this sharp tempest draue Northumberland ,
(Who led the vant-guard of king Henries side)
With eger heat ioine battaile, out of hand;
And this disorder, with their swords to hide.
Where, twice fiue howres, these furious armies stand;
And Fortunes Ballance weigh'd on neither side;
Nor either did but equall bloud-shed gayne,
Till Henries chiefest leaders all were slaine.
20
Then, lo, those spirits, which from these heads deriue
Their motions, gaue off working; and, in haste,
Turne all their backs to Death, and mainely striue
Who from themselues shall run-away most fast.
The after-flyers on the former driue:
And they againe, by the pursuers chac't
Make bridges of their fellowes backs, to pass
The Brooks and Riuers, where-as danger was.
21
Witnes O cleare-stream'd Cock : within whose banks,
So many thousand, crawling, helpless lay,
With wounds and wearinesse; who in their rankes,
Had valiantly behav'd themselues that daie:
And might haue had more honour, and more thankes
By standing to their worke, and by their stay,
“But men, at once, life seeme to loue and loath;
“Running to lose it, and to saue it both.
22
Vnhappy Henrie , from a little Hill,
Plac't not far off (whence he might view the fight)
Had all th'intire full prospect of this ill,
With all the scattered slaughter, in his sight:
Saw how the victor rag'd, and spoil'd at wil,
And left not off when all was in his might:
Saw, with how great adoo himselfe was wonne;
And with what store of blood Kings are vndone.
23
We are not worth so much, nor I, nor he,
As hath beene spent for vs, by you this day,
Deare people, said he: therefore, O, agree,
And leaue off mischiefe, and your malice stay.
Stay, Edward , stay. They must a People bee,
When we shall not be Kings: and it is they,
Who make vs with their miseries. Spare them,
For whom thou thus dost seeke a Diadem.
24
For me, I could be pleas'd t'haue nought to doe
With Fortune; and content, my selfe were ill,
So England might be well; and that t'vndoe
Me, might suffice the sword, without more ill.
And yet perhaps, these men, that cleaue vnto
The parts of Princes, with such eger will,
Haue likewise their owne ends, of gaine or hate,
In these our strifes, and nourish this debate.
25
Thus stood he (drawing lines of his discourse)
In contemplation; when, more needfully,
It did import him to deuise a course,
How he might shift for his recouery:
And had beene taken had not some by force,
Rescu'd, and drawne him off, more speedilie;
And brought him vnto Yorke , in all maine poste:
Where he first told his Queen, the daie was lost.
26
Who, as compos'd of that firme temp'rature
Which could not bend to base complaynts, nor wayle
As weakeness doth (fore-knowing how t'indure)
Fayl'd not her selfe, though Fortune did her fayle;
But, rather casts-about how to procure
Meanes to reserue her part, and to preuaile
Of that poore time left her to saue her owne;
As one though ouer-come, not ouer-throwne:+
27
Now, when she had of fatall Lancaster
Seene all the pillars crusht and ruined,
That vnder-set it; all that followed her
Of those heroicke personages, dead,
Saue onely Sommerset , and Excester
(Who from this last destruction hardly fled)
And saw all lost, and nothing in her might,
But onely that which must be sav'd by flight:
28
Now, when there was no North left, of their owne,
To draw vnto; no side, to gather head;
No people to be rays'd, t'an emptie Crowne;
Nor yet the ground their owne, whereon they tread.
When yet your faith (worthy of all renowne)
Constant Northumbrians , firme continued:
And, though you could not render succors fit
Vnto your Sov'raigne, you would saue him yet;
29
And be (as few men, in this world, are) true
Vnto affliction, and to miserie:
And would not basely purchace and renew
Your peace, and safetie, by disloyaltie:
But wrought, that though the Victor did pursue,
With greedy care and egre industrie,
To haue surpriz'd him; yet was all in vaine,
Till he recouered Berwicke , with his Traine.
30
Where now, he was at some more vacancie
To vnderstand, and see himselfe vndone:
Which, in this sodaine-comming misery,
He had no leasure to consider-on.
And now suruaies he that poore company,
Attending on himselfe, his wife, and sonne;
Sees how that all the State, which serv'd his Crowne,
Was shut within the walls of one small towne:
31
Beholds there, what a poore distressed thing,
A King without a people was; and whence
The glory of that Mightinesse doth spring
That ouer-spreds (with such a reuerence)
This vnder-world: whence comes this furnishing
And all this splendor of Magnificence:
He sees, what chayre so-euer Monarch sate
Vpon, on Earth, the People was the State.
32
And yet, although he did contayne no more
Then what he saw; yet saw a peece so small
Could not containe him. What he was before,
Made him vncapable of any wall,
To yeeld him succour now; he must haue more,
Then onely this small Holde, or none at all.
And therefore, this (se'ing it auayl'd him not,
Nor could he keepe) he renders to the Scot;
33
As th'Earnest, to confirme and ratifie
The league betweene them two, newly begun:
Whereof to make more sure and faster tye,
He promist, too, th'alliance of his sonne:
And all that might secure their amity,
With willingnesse, on either side was done.
And heere they practise, all they can deuise,
To turne reuenge vpon their Enemyes.
34
Thus, England , didst thou see the mightiest King
Thou euer hadst (in Power and Maiesty
Of State, and of Dominions; gouerning
A most magnificent Nobility;
With an aduent'rous people, flourishing
In all the glories of felicitie)
Chac't from his kingdom, forc't to seeke redresse
In parts remote, distrest and succourlesse.
35
Now Bullingbrook , these miseries, heere showne,
Doo much vnlode thy sinne; make thy ill, good.
For, if thou didst by wrong, attaine the Crowne,
T'was without cryes; it cost but little bloud:
But, Yorke , by his attempt hath ouer-throwne
All the best glorie wherein England stood;
And did his state by her vndooing winne:
And was, though white without, yet red within.
36
And thus he hath it; and is now to deale
For th'intertaining and continuance
Of mens affections; and to seeke to heale
Those foul corruptions, which the maintenance
Of so long wars bred in the Common-weale.
He must remunerate, prefer, aduance,
His chiefest friendes; and prosecute with might,
The aduerse part; doo wrong, to doo men right:
37
Whilst Martiall Margaret , with her hopefull Sonne,
Is trauailing in France to purchase ayde;
And plots, and toiles, and nothing leaues vndone;
Though all in vaine. For, being thus ouer-lay'd
By Fortune and the Time, all that is done
Is out of season. For she must haue stay'd
Till that first heate of mens affections (which
They beare new Kings) were laid, and not so much.
38
When they should finde, that they had gayn'd no more,
Then th'Asse, by changing of his Maisters, did;
(Who still must labour as he vs'd besore)
And those expectancies came frustrated,
Which they had set vpon th'imagin'd score,
Of their accounts; and had considered,
How that it did but little benefite
The Doues; To change the Falcon, for the Kite.
39
And yet braue Queene, for three yeares of his Raigne,
Thou gau'st him little breathing time of rest;
But still his miseries didst entertaine
With new attempts, and new assaults addrest:
And, at thy now-returne from France againe,
(Suppli'd with forces) once more gatheredst
An Army for the Field, and brought'st, to warre,
The scattered parts of broken Lancaster .
40
And once againe, at Exham , ledst them on
With Scots, and French t'another bloody day;
And there beheldst thy selfe againe vndone,
With all that Rest, whereon thy fortunes lay.
Where, Somerset (late to King Edward gone,
And got his pardon) hauing scap't away,
With noble Percie , came to bring their blood
Vnto thy side, whereto they first had stood.
41
Where, the Lords, Molines, Rosse , and Hungerford ,
With many else of noble Families,
Extinguisht were; and many that daies sword
Cut-off their names, in their posterities.
Where fled, againe, their lucklesse followed Lord;
And is so neere pursu'd by th'enemies,
As th'Ensigne of his Crowne was seiz'd vpon,
For him who had before his Kingdome wonne;
42
And shortly after, too, his person gat.
For he, now wearied with his long exile,
And miseries abrode, grew passionate,
With longing to returne t'his natiue soyle.
And se'ing he could not do the same, in State;
He seekes, disguis'd in fashion, to beguile
The world a time, and steale the libertie
And sight of his deare Country, priuately:
43
As if there were, for a pursued King,
A couert left on earth, wherein to hide;
When Powre and Iealousie are trauailing,
And lay to catch affliction, on each side.
Misfortune serues, we see, for euery thing,
And soon he comes, God knows, to be descry'd:
And Edward hath the booty he desir'd:
For whose establishment, all things conspir'd.
44
Yet, long it was not, ere a fire began
To take, in th'inwardst Closet, where he lay'd
The treasure of his chiefest trust; and ran
From thence, through al his State, before it staid.
For, be'ing a King, who his whole fortunes wan
With others handes, must many leaue vnpay'd:
And could not fill vp that vast greedinesse
Of Expectation, which is bottomlesse:
45
Though he did all the best that in him lay
(As a most actiue Prince) to satisfie
The int'rest of their trauayles, and defray
The bands contracted twixt his soueraignty
And the Republick: seeking to allay
All greeuances; reorder equity;
Reform the Barres, that Iustice did abuse;
Lay easie on the State, as new Kings vse.
46
As he, who, hauing found great Treasury,
The first yeare offers, with most gratefull cheere,
A sheepe of gold, to Iunoes deity;
And next, of siluer, for the second yeare;
The third, of brasse; and then, neglectiuely,
Nothing at all: So those respects, which were
Borne of a present feeling, mov'd him most;
But soon were with their times and motiues lost.
47
And, what his bounty could not recompense,
He payes with honors, and with dignities.
And (more to angle the beneuolence,
And catch the loue of men, with curtesies)
He oft would make his dignity dispense
With his too lowe familiarities;
Descending, from his Sphere of Maiesty,
Beneath himselfe, very submissiuely.
48
And when he had dispos'd, in some good traine,
His home affaires; he counsells how t'aduance
His forraine correspondence, with the chaine
Of some alliance that might countenance
His Greatnesse, and his quiet intertaine.
Which was thought fittest with some match, of France ;
To hold that Kingdome, from subayding such
Who else could not subsist, nor hope so much.
49
Nor was it now a time to haue contrast
With any forrain mighty Potentate;
But keep the outer doores of each side fast,
Hauing so much to doo within his State.
And, therevpon, was Warwicke (by whose cast
All must be wrought) imploy'd to mediate
A present Marriage, to be had betweene
Him, and the sister of the yong French Queene.
50
Which was not long, nor hard to bring to passe
Where like respects met in a point alike.
So that the same as euen concluded was,
And all as done; Lady and friends all like:
When Loue, the Lord of Kings (by whom must passe
This Act of our Affections) tooke dislike
That he was not made priuy thereunto;
And therefore, in his wrath, would all vndoe.
51
For, whiles this youthfull Prince, at his disport
In Grafton woods, retyr'd from publick care,
Attending how his sute in France did sorte
(Whereon his cogitations onely were)
He comes, at home, surpris'd in other sort;
A neerer fire inflam'd his passions heere;
An English Beautie, with more worth indu'd
Then France could yeeld, his royall heart subdu'd.
52
A wofull widdow, whom his quarrell had
(As it had many moe) made desolate,
Came to his Court, in mournfull habit clad,
To sue for Iustice, to relieue her state.
And entring as a suppliant all sad;
With gracefull sorrow, and a comely gate
She past the Presence: where, all eyes were cast
On her more stately presence, as she past.
53
Her lookes, not let-abrode (but carefully
Kept in, restraind) hold their reseruednesse:
Obseruing none but her owne dignity,
And his, to whom she did her selfe addresse.
And, drawing neere his royall Maiesty,
A blush of reuerence, not bashfulnesse,
Lightned her louely cheeks, and downe she kneeles;
Giues her Petition, for the wrongs she feeles.
54
And, in deliv'ring it, lifts vp her eyes
(The mouingst Mediatours shee could bring)
And strait withdrawes them, in submissiue wise;
Not fixing them directly on the King:
Who, mov'd with her sweet fashion, bade her rise,
With gentle language full of comforting;
Read her request: but thought not what he read.
The lines, hee view'd, her eyes had figured.
55
Then paus'd a while, and musd; as if he weigh'd
The substance of her sute. The which, God wote,
Was not the thing he mus'd. And, hauing stay'd,
Seem'd to read on againe; but yet reades not:
And still a stealing side-cast looke conuai'd
On her sweet face; as if he had forgot
To be else-where, then where he did behold:
And thought not what he did; but what he would.
56
But, least his sodaine passion might haue, there,
More witnesses then he would wish to haue;
He tooke vp his desires, which posting were
Beyond their stages; and this answere gaue:
Madam, we will our selfe take time to heare
Your Cause at large: wherein we wil you haue
No other reference, but repaire to vs:
Who will accommodate this businesse.
57
She, that expected present remedie
(Hearing this dilatory answer) thought,
The King found scruple in the equitie
Of her request; and thereupon he sought
To put her to delayes of Court, whereby
She might be tyr'd, and in the end get nought.
And that, which her opinion made more strong,
Was that he studied, and was mute, so long.
58
Which forc't from her these wordes: My Lord,
Let not my being a Lancastrian bred
Without mine owne election, disafford
Me right, or make my Cause disfigured;
Since I am now the subiect of your sword:
Which God hath (with your Right) established,
To doo vs right: and let not what wee were,
Be now the cause to hurt vs as we are.
59
Ladie, mistake me not: neuer did I
Make war with women, nor vs'd womens war,
Reuenge; but prosecuted honestly
My Right, not Men. My quarrels ended are,
With my obtayning of the victorie.
And (Lady) knowe, your Cause moues me thus far,
As you shall finde, sayd hee, I doo desire
To doo you greater right then you require.
60
With this, they part; both, with their thoughts full charg'd:
She, of her sute in hand; and he of her:
Wherein, he spends that night, and quite discharg'd
All other cogitations; to confer,
First, how he might haue her estate inlarg'd:
Then, in what sort her seruice to prefer
Vnto his new exspected Wife and Queene:
Then, how to maske his loue, from being seene.
61
For, yet, Lust was not growne to that degree
To haue no limits; but that Shame kept-in
The greatest Greatnes, from this being free
To hold their Wantonness to be no sinne.
For, though Kings cannot ouer-maistred bee,
They will be ouer-lookt, and seene within:
And, though they could their weaknesses make sure;
Yet crymes, though safe, can neuer be secure.
62
Sometimes, he thinks it better to prouide
A place retyr'd, and haue her from the Court:
And then, with what pretentions he might hide
His priuat comming, and his oft resort:
Then, by his Queene, if it should be espi'd,
How he might cleare with her, and stop report.
And thus consumes the night: and if hee slept,
He slept those thoughts that with these passions kept.
63
The morning being com'n (and glad he was
That it was com'n) after so long a night
He thought would haue no morning (time did passe
So slowe, and his desires ran-on so light)
A messenger with speed dispatched was,
Of speciall trust, this Lady to inuite
To come t'his presence; though before the time
That Ladies rise: who rarely rise betime.
64
Yet soone shee hastes: and yet that soone seem'd long,
To him whose longing went so swift a pase:
And frets, that such attyring should belong
To that which yeelds it selfe sufficient grace;
Consid'ring how these ornaments may wrong
The set of beautie: which, we see, doth grace
Th'attire it weares, and is not grac't thereby;
As be'ing that onely, which doth take the eye.
65
But now, be'ing com'n, that quarrell of delay
Streight ended was: her presence satisfies
All, what Expectance had layd out for stay:
And he beheld more sweetnesse in her eyes,
And saw her more then she was yesterday:
A cheerliness did with her hopes arise,
That lamped cleerer then it did before,
And made her spirit, and his affections, more.
66
When, those who were about him, presently
Voyded the roome, and left him to confer
Alone with his faire Suter priuatly
(As they who to his courses conscious were)
And he began: Madame, the remedie
Which you (in your Petition) sue-for here,
Shall be allow'd to th'vtmost that you craue,
With th'expedition you would wish to haue.
67
And here I haue another sute to you:
Which if you please to grant, wee both shall now
Rest equally content. Wherewith, there grew
That sodaine alteration in her brow,
As all were ouer-cast; and so with-drew
That freedome from her lookes (least they should 'low
More then her heart might meane) as they reflect
A narrower and a carefuller aspect.
68
That when he saw this barrier of dislike
Thus inter-set, to keepe his forwardnes
Backe from presumptiue pressing; it did strike
That reuerence, as it staide him to expresse
His farther will. And she replies: 'Tis like,
When Kings to subiects sue, they meane no less
Then to command; nor must they be withstood;
For-that good Kings will seeke but what is good.
69
And, in that faire respect, your Maiestie,
According to your will, both must and may
Command my seruice; who most reuerently
Your royall pleasure euer shall obay.
With which word, pleasure (though it doubtfully
In that hard fastnesse of condition lay,
Vnder the locke of goodnesse) he was cast
In hope, he might obtaine the same at last.
70
And thus reioynes; My pleasure only shall
Be, Madame, for your good; please it but you
To make it so. And, here to tell you all,
I loue you; and therein I tell you true.
What honour may by Kings affections fall,
Must light vpon your fortunes, as your due.
And though France shall a Wife, for fashion, bring:
You must be th'onely mistress of the King.
71
Streight might you see, how Scorne, and Feare, & Shame
(All intermixt in one aspect) returne
The message of her thoughts, before words came.
And first, within her brow, in state sate Scorne;
Shame in her Cheekes; where also Feare became
An In-mate too; and both appeare, by turne:
Blushes did paleness, paleness blushes chace;
As scorning, fearing, shaming such disgrace.
72
She scornes to be addeem'd so worthlesse-base
As to bee mov'd to such an infamie.
She shames to thinke that ought, within her face,
Should breed th'opinion of immodestie.
Shee feares the fatall daunger of the place,
Her loneness, and the powre of Maiestie:
And so (confus'd) in feare, in shame, in scorne,
This Answere to his Motion doth returne:
73
My sov'raigne Lord, it grieues me that you deeme,
Because I in this sort for Iustice sue,
I would the same with mine owne wrong redeeme,
And by dishonour reobtaine my due:
No: I would hate that right, which should but seeme
To be beholding to a wanton view
Or motiue of my person, not my Cause;
That craues but right, from Iustice, and your lawes.
74
And knowe, great Monarch, that I more doo waigh
My Distaffe with mine honour, then I doo
The mightiest Scepter, King did euer sway
Vpon the earth, or Nations bow'd vnto.
I owe subiection; which I humbly pay,
With all the outward seruice I can doo:
But, Sov'raigne, in the region of my hart
I raigne sole Queene; no King can force a part.
75
Here, Feare a little interpos'd a touch,
To warne her violence to temporize
With Powre, and State: and she concludes her speach,
With crauing pardon in more humble wise:
Yet, in proud humble wise: which shew'd, how much
She did her honor aboue Greatnes prise.
And so, being full of what she did conceiue,
Desires to be dismist, and takes her leaue.
76
Here, Mary Pembrooke (by whose generous brow,
And noble graces, I delineat
These shapes of others virtues) could I showe
In what a desperat and confus'd estate
She left this disappointed King; and how
Loue and Ambition in their glory sate,
And tyranniz'd on his diuided hart,
Warring each other with a powrefull part.
77
How first, Loue vnderneath his Colours brought
The strength of all her gracefull worthinesse:
And sets them in th'aduantage of his thought,
Vpon the side of Youth and Wantonnesse:
Then how Ambition, that for glory wrought,
Comes with his State, his Crowne, and Powrfulnes,
And plants her on the side of prouidence,
To beat vnfit Affections off from thence.
78
But, I must ouer-goe these passages;
And hasten-on my way, to ouer-take
Mine endes, in sad and grauer businesses;
Wherof I shall to you relation make:
And yet my zeale here forc't mee thus t'expresse
Elizabeth , for our Elizaes sake;
Who grac't the Muses (which her Times became):
For, they who giue them comfort, must haue fame.
79
And I must tell you now, when this great fight
Of counter-passions had beene throughly try'd,
How in the ende the victorie did light
Vpon Loues forces, as the stronger side;
And beat downe those respects of benefite,
Of honor, greatnes, strength, and all beside;
And neuer graunted rest vnto his strife,
Till mariage rites had her confirm'd his wife.
80
Which, that place, where he saw her first, saw donne,
Ere he remov'd his foot: for, Loue is stil
In haste, and (as a Lord, that rules alone)
Admittes no Counseller, in good nor ill.
For, He and Kings gladly giue eare to none,
But such as smooth their wayes, and sooth their will.
And who will not desire to giue his voyce
(Be what it will) to prayse a Princes choyce?
81
Which was (indeed) in virtue, beautie, grace,
And all but fortune, worthy of his bed:
And in that too, had hee but liv'd the space
T'haue seene her plentious issue fully bred;
That they might haue collated strength and grace
On her weake side: which (scornd and malicèd)
Lay-open vndefenc't, apt to b'vndon
By proud vsurping Powre, when he was gon.
82
But now, when fame of this home-chosen Match
Arriu'd in France (for there it did arriue,
Ere they could heere attend to make dispatch
T'impart the same to Warwick , or contriue
Some colour that in any sort might fetch
Him fayrely off, and no dishonor giue)
It so much stird the humors in those parts,
As marr'd the whole complexion of their hearts.
83
The French King scornes such an indignity.
VVarwick disdaines imployment in this case.
The Queene (inrag'd) with extreame vehemency,
Stormes at her sisters and her owne disgrace.
The Lady Bona takes most tenderly
To be so mockt, with hope of such a Place:
And all blame Warwick , and his fraud condem;
Whil'st he himself, deceiu'd, suffers with them:
84
And could not (by all meanes might be deuiz'd)
Vntaste them of this violent disgust;
But that they still held, something lay disguis'd
Vnder this treaty. So that now he must
Bring-home his reputation cauteris'd
With th'idle marke of seruing others lust
In friuolous imployments, or be sent
Out of the way to colour some intent.
85
“Which, to himselfe, made him, with griefe inueigh
“Against distemp'red kings: who often are
“Ill warrants for their owne affaires; and waigh
“Their lusts, more then their dignity, by far:
“And what a miserie they haue that sway
“Their great designes; what danger, and what care;
“And often must be forc't, be'ing at their becks,
“To crack their reputation, or their necks.
86
“How their high fauours like as fig-trees are,
“That growe vpon the sides of rocks; where they
“Who reach their fruit, aduenture must so far
“As t'hazard their deep down-fall and decay.
“Their grace, not fixt; but, as a blazing star
“Burnes out the present matter, and away:
“And how the world could too wel witnesse beare,
“That both their loues and hates like dangerous were.
87
Thus he complaynes, and makes his home-retire;
All disappointed of his purposes
For, hoping, by this Match, to hold intire
That Lady, with her great alliances;
And haue the King more firm to his desire,
By managing of both their bus'nesses;
He, by this Match (thus made without his mean)
Comes barr'd from al those tying int'rests cleane.
88
For, well he knew, that all his seruice past
Was past; and would not be a future tye
To hold him in, vnlesse that he could cast
To introduce some neere necessity
Of his imployment, that were like to last,
And shut-out all other concurrency.
Without which, nor his Greatnes, nor his Wits,
Could ward him from the Kings vnconstant fits.
89
Which more perplext him, and in neerer sort,
Then what France might by his ambassage ghesse,
Or England deeme. But, being arriu'd at Cort,
He drawes a Trauerse 'twixt his greeuances;
Lookes like the time: his eye made not report
Of what he felt within: nor was he lesse
Then vsually he was, in euery part;
Wore a cleere face, vpon a clowdy hart:
90
Congratulates the Queene; commends the King
For his rare choice; protesting her to be
Far beyond all, the world beside could bring
To fit his liking; and that he did see
The Lady Bona was a peeuish thing,
Sullayne, and proud; and would in no degree
Haue pleas'd his humor, or in any sort
Haue satisfi'd the Ladies of this Cort.
91
And, after hauing finisht all the rite
Of complement and interuisiting;
He humbly craues dismission that he might
Retyre a while, t'attend the managing
And setting of his country-bus'nesse right;
Whereby the better to attend the King:
From whom he parts; and neuer seem'd more deere,
More grac't, nor yet himselfe of fre'er cheere.
92
First, VVarwick Castle (that had seldome knowne
The Maister there) he visits; and from thence
Goes t'other goodly Mannours of his owne.
Where, seene with ioy, with loue, with reuerence;
(King of him selfe,) he findes that there is show'n
The vse of life, the true magnificence,
T'inioy his Greatnesse: which, at Corte, in vaine
Men toyle-for, and yet neuer doo attaine.
93
Which, his religious Confessor (who best
Could cast, with what a violent accesse,
This feuer of Ambition did molest
His still-sick minde) takes hold-on; to addresse
(Vpon th'aduantage of this little rest)
Some lenitiues, t'allay the firynesse
Of this disease; which (as a maladie,
Seiz'd in the Spirits) hath seldom remedy.
94
“And thus sets on him: See, my Lord, how heere
“Th'eternall Prouidence of God hath brought
“You to the Shore of safetie (out of feare)
“From all the waues of misery, that wrought
“To ouer-whelm you; and hath set you cleare,
“Where you would bee; with hauing (which you sought
“Through all these hazards of distresse) a King
“Of your owne making and establishing.
95
“And now, my Lord, I trust you will sit downe,
“And rest you, after all this passed thrall,
“And be your selfe (a Prince within your owne)
“Without aduent'ring any more at all
“Your state in others Bottomes; hauing knowne
“The dangers that on mighty Actors fall;
“Since, in the foot of your accompts, your gaynes
“Come-short to make euen reck'ning with your paines.
96
“Inioy now what you wrought-for, in this sort
“(If great-mens Endes be to enjoy their Endes)
“And knowe, the happiest powre, the greatest port,
“Is onely that which on it selfe depends.
“Heere haue you State inough to be a Cort
“Vnto your selfe; here, where the world attends
“On you, not you on it, obserued sole:
“You, else-where but a part, are heere the whole.
97
“Th'aduantages of Princes, are (we see)
“But things conceiu'd imaginarily.
“For, euery state of fortune, in degree,
“Some image hath of principalitie:
“Which they inioy more naturall and free,
“Then can great Powers, chain'd with observancie,
“And with the fetters of respect still ty'd;
“Being easier far to follow then to guide.
98
“And what art Corts, but Camps of misery?
“That doo besiege mens states, and still are prest
“T'assaile, prevent, complot, and fortifie;
“In hope t'attaine, in feare to be supprest;
“Where, all with shewes, and with apparancie,
“Men seeme, as if for stratagems addrest:
“Where, Fortune, as the Woolfe, doth still prefer
“The fowlest of the traine that followes her.
99
“And where, fayre hopes are lay'd (as ambushments)
“To intercept your life, and to betray
“Your liberty to such intanglements,
“As you shal neuer-more get cleare away:
“Where, both th'ingagement of your owne intents,
“And others recknings, and accounts, shall lay
“Such waights vpon you, as you shal not part,
“Vnlesse you breake your credit, or your heart.
100
“Besides: as exiles, euer from your homes
“You liue perpetuall in disturbancy;
“Contending, thrusting, shuffling for your roomes
“Of ease or honor, with impatiency:
“Building your fortunes, vpon others tombes,
“For other then your owne posterity.
“You see, Corts few aduance; many vndoo:
“And those they do aduance, they ruine too.
101
“And therefore now, my Lord, since you are heere,
“Where you may haue your rest with dignitie;
“Worke that you may continue so: and cleare
“Your selfe, from out these streights of misery
“Hold your estate and life, as things more deare
“Then to be throwne at an vncertainty.
“Tis time, that you and England haue a calme;
“And time, the Oliue stood aboue the Palme.
102
Thus the good Father, with an humble thought
(Bred in a Cellularie lowe retyre)
According to his quiet humor, sought
T'auert him from his turbulent desire;
“When the great Earle began: Father, I note
“What you with zeale aduise, with loue require:
“And I must thanke you, for this care you haue,
“And for those good aduertisements you gaue.
103
“And truely, Father, could I but get free
“(Without being rent) and hold my dignitie;
“That Sheep-cot, which in yonder vale you see
“(Beset with Groues, and those sweet Springs hard-by)
“I rather would my Palace wish to bee,
“Then any roofe, of proudest Maiestie:
“But, that I cannot dooe; I haue my part:
“And I must liue, in one house, with my hart.
104
“I knowe, that I am fixt vnto a Sphere
“That is ordayn'd to moue. It is the place
“My fate appoints me; and the region where
“I must, what-euer happens, there, imbrace.
“Disturbance, trauaile, labor, hope and feare,
“Are of that Clime, ingendred in that place;
“And action best, I see, becomes the Best:
“The Starres, that haue most glorie, haue no rest.
105
“Besides: it were a Cowards part, to fly
“Now from my Holde, that haue held out so well;
“It be'ing the Station of my life, where I
“Am set to serue, and stand as Sentinell:
“And must, of force, make good the place, or dy,
“When Fate and Fortune (those great States) compell.
“And then, we Lords in such case euer are,
“As peace can cut our throats aswell as war.
106
“And hath her griefes, and her incombrances:
“And doth with idle rest, deforme vs more
“Then any Magha can, or sorceresse,
“With basely wasting all the Martiall store
“Of heat and spirit (which graceth Manlinesse)
“And makes vs still false images adore:
“Besides profusion of our faculties,
“In grosse dull glutt'ny, vap'rous gourmandise.
107
“And therefore since I am the man I am,
“I must not giue a foote, least I giue all.
“Nor is this Bird within my breast so tame,
“As to be fed at hand, and mockt with-all.
“I rather would my state were out of frame,
“Then my renowne should come to get a fall.
“No, no: th'vngratefull boy shall neuer think,
“That I, who him inlarg'd to powre, will shrink.
108
“What is our life, without our dignitie?
“Which oft, we see, comes lesse by liuing long
“Who euer was there worth the memorie,
“And eminent indeed, but still dy'd young?
“As if worth had agreed with destinie,
“That time, which rightes them, should not doo the wrong.
“Besides; Old-age doth giue, by too long space,
“Our soules as many wrinkles as our face.
109
“And as for my inheritance and State
“(What euer happen) I wil so prouide
“That Law shall, with what strength it hath, collate
“The same on mine, and those to mine ally'd:
“Although I knowe, she serues a present State,
“And can vndoo againe what shee hath ty'd.
“But, that we leaue to him, who poynts-out heyres:
“And howsoeuer, yet the world is theirs.
110
“Where, they must worke it out; as borne to run
“Those Fortunes, which as mightie Families
“(As euer they could be) before haue donne.
“Nor shall they gaine, by mine indignities,
“Who may without my courses be vndonne.
“And who-so makes his State, and life, his tyes
“To doo vnworthily, is borne a slaue:
“And let him with that brand go to his Graue.
111
Here, would the reuerent Father haue reply'd,
That it were far more Magnanimitie,
T'indure, then to resist: that we are ty'd
As well to beare the inconueniencie
And straynes of Kings and States; as to abide
Vntimely raynes, tempests, sterilitie,
And other ills of Nature that befall:
Which we, of force, must be content withall:
112
But that a speedy messenger was sent
To shewe, the D. of Clarence was hard-by
And, thereupon, VVarwicke breakes-off, and went
(With all his traine attending formally)
To intertaine him, with fit complement;
As, glad of such an opportunitie
To worke vpon, for those high purposes
He had conceiu'd in discontentednes.
BOOKE.
1
O N yet, sad Verse: though those bright starres, from whence
Thou hadst thy light, are set for euermore;
And that these times do not like grace dispense
To our indeuours, as those did before:
Yet on; since She, whose beames do reincense
This sacred fire, seemes as reseru'd in store
To raise this Worke, and here to haue my last;
Who had the first of all my labours past.
2
On (with her blessed fauour) and relate,
With what new bloud-shed, this new chosen Lord
Made his first entry to th'afflicted State,
Past his first Act of publique, with the sword,
Ingor'd his new-worne Crowne, and how he gat
Possession of affliction, and restor'd
His Right vnto a Royall miserie;
Maintainèd with as bloudy dignitie.
3
Shew, how our great Pharsalian Field was fought
At Towton in the North; the greatest day
Of ruine, that dissension euer brought
Vnto this Kingdom: where, two Crownes did sway
The worke of slaughter; two Kings Causes wrought
Destruction to one People, by the waie
Of their affections, and their loyalties;
As if one, for these ills, could not suffise.
4
Where Lancaster and that couragious side
(That noble constant Part) came furnished
With such a Powre, as might haue terrifi'd
And ouer-run the earth; had they been led
The way of glory, where they might haue tri'd
For th'Empire of all Europe , as those did
The Macedonian led into the East;
Their number being double, at the least.
5
And where braue Yorke comes as compleatly mand,
With courage, valour, and with equall might;
Prepar'd to trie with a resolued hand,
The metall of his Crown, and of his Right:
Attended with his fatall fier-brand
Of Warre, Warwicke ; that blazing starre of fight,
The Comet of destruction, that portends
Confusion, and distresse, what way he tends.
6
What rage, what madness, England , do we see?
That this braue people, in such multitude
Run to confound themselues, and all to be
Thus mad for Lords , and for meere Seruitude,
What might haue been, if (Roman-like, and free)
These gallant Spirits had nobler ends pursu'd,
And strayn'd to points of glory and renowme,
For good of the Republique and their owne?
7
But, here no Cato with a Senate stood
For Common-wealth: nor here were any sought
T'emancipate the State, for publique good;
But onely, headlong, for their faction wrought.
Here, euery man runs-on to spend his bloud,
To get but what he had already got.
For, whether Pompey , or a Cæsar wonne,
Their state was euer sure to be all one.
8
And, first, before these fatall Armies met,
Had forward Warwicke lay'd the passage free,
At Berry Brigges : where the Lord Clifford (set
With an aduentrous gallant companie
To guard that streight, Yorkes farther march to let)
Began the Scene to this great Tragedie;
Made the first entrance on the Stage of blood:
Which now, set wide for wounds, all open stood.
9
When, Edward to exhort his men began,
With words, whereto both spirit and Maiestie
His pers'nage gave; for-that he was a man
(Besides a King) whose Crowne sate gracefully:
Com'n is the day, sayd he, wherin who can
Obtaine the best, is Best: this day must try
Who hath the wrong, and whence our ills haue beene:
And tis our swords must make vs honest men.
10
For though our Cause, by God and men allow'd,
Hath in it honor, right, and honestie:
Yet all, as nothing, is to be avow'd,
Vnless withall, we haue the victorie.
For, Iustice is (we see) a virtue proud,
And leanes to powre, and leaues weake miserie.
And therefore, seeing the case we now stand in,
We must resolue either to dy or winne.
11
So that if any here doth finde his heart
To fayle him, for this noble worke, or stands
Irresolute this day; let him depart,
And leaue his Armes behind, for worthier hands.
I knowe, enow will stay to doo their part,
Here to redeeme themselues, wiues, children, landes,
And haue the glory that thereby shall rise,
To free their Country from these miseries.
12
But here, what needed wordes to blowe the fire
In flame already, and inkindled so
As when it was proclaym'd, they might retire
Who found vnwillingnes to vnder-goe
That ventrous worke; they all did so conspire
To stand out Fortune, that not one would goe,
To beare away a hand from bloud; not one
Defraud the Fie'd of th'euill might be done.
13
Where VVarwicke too (producing, in their sight,
An argument, whereby he did conclude
There was no hope of safetie, but by fight)
Doth sacrifize his horse, to Fortitude:
And thereby did the least conceipt of flight,
Or any succour, by escape, exclude;
“Se'ing, in the streight of a necessitie,
“The meanes to win, is t'haue no meanes to flye.
14
It was vpon the twi-light of that day
(That peacefull day) when the Religious beare
The Oliue-branches as they go to pray,
(And we, in lieu, the blooming Palme vse here)
When both the Armies, ready in array
For th'early sacrifize of blood, appeare
Prepar'd for mischiefe, ere they had full light
To see to doo it, and to doo it right.
15
Th'aduantage of the time, and of the winde
(Which, both, with Yorke seeme as retayn'd in pay)
Braue Faulconbridge takes hold-on, and assign'd
The Archers their flight-shafts to shoote away:
Which, th'aduerse side (with sleet and dimnesse, blinde,
Mistaken in the distance of the way)
Answere with their sheafe-arrowes; that came short
Of their intended ayme, and did no hurt;
16
But, gath'red by th'on-marching Enemy,
Returned were, like clowdes of steele; which powre
Destruction downe, and did new-night the sky:
As if the Day had fayl'd to keepe his howre.
Whereat, the ranged horse breake-out, deny
Obedience to the Riders, scorne their powre,
Disrank the troupes, set all in disarray,
To make th'Assaylant owner of the day.
17
Thus, thou peculiar Ingine of our Land
(Weapon of Conquest, Maister of the Field)
Renowmed Boaw (that mad'st this Crowne command
The towres of Fraunce , and all their powres to yeeld)
Art made at home to haue th'especiall hand
In our dissensions, by thy worke vp-held:
Thou first didst conquer vs; then rays'd our skill
To vanquish others; here our selues to spill.
18
And now how com'st thou to be out of date,
And all neglected leav'st vs, and art gone?
And with thee, th'ancient strength, the manly state
Of valor, and of worth, that glory wonne?
Or else stay'st thou, till new-priz'd shot abate?
(That neuer shall affect what thou hast don)
And onely but attend'st some blessed Raigne,
When thou and Virtue shalt be grac't againe.
19
But, this sharp tempest draue Northumberland ,
(Who led the vant-guard of king Henries side)
With eger heat ioine battaile, out of hand;
And this disorder, with their swords to hide.
Where, twice fiue howres, these furious armies stand;
And Fortunes Ballance weigh'd on neither side;
Nor either did but equall bloud-shed gayne,
Till Henries chiefest leaders all were slaine.
20
Then, lo, those spirits, which from these heads deriue
Their motions, gaue off working; and, in haste,
Turne all their backs to Death, and mainely striue
Who from themselues shall run-away most fast.
The after-flyers on the former driue:
And they againe, by the pursuers chac't
Make bridges of their fellowes backs, to pass
The Brooks and Riuers, where-as danger was.
21
Witnes O cleare-stream'd Cock : within whose banks,
So many thousand, crawling, helpless lay,
With wounds and wearinesse; who in their rankes,
Had valiantly behav'd themselues that daie:
And might haue had more honour, and more thankes
By standing to their worke, and by their stay,
“But men, at once, life seeme to loue and loath;
“Running to lose it, and to saue it both.
22
Vnhappy Henrie , from a little Hill,
Plac't not far off (whence he might view the fight)
Had all th'intire full prospect of this ill,
With all the scattered slaughter, in his sight:
Saw how the victor rag'd, and spoil'd at wil,
And left not off when all was in his might:
Saw, with how great adoo himselfe was wonne;
And with what store of blood Kings are vndone.
23
We are not worth so much, nor I, nor he,
As hath beene spent for vs, by you this day,
Deare people, said he: therefore, O, agree,
And leaue off mischiefe, and your malice stay.
Stay, Edward , stay. They must a People bee,
When we shall not be Kings: and it is they,
Who make vs with their miseries. Spare them,
For whom thou thus dost seeke a Diadem.
24
For me, I could be pleas'd t'haue nought to doe
With Fortune; and content, my selfe were ill,
So England might be well; and that t'vndoe
Me, might suffice the sword, without more ill.
And yet perhaps, these men, that cleaue vnto
The parts of Princes, with such eger will,
Haue likewise their owne ends, of gaine or hate,
In these our strifes, and nourish this debate.
25
Thus stood he (drawing lines of his discourse)
In contemplation; when, more needfully,
It did import him to deuise a course,
How he might shift for his recouery:
And had beene taken had not some by force,
Rescu'd, and drawne him off, more speedilie;
And brought him vnto Yorke , in all maine poste:
Where he first told his Queen, the daie was lost.
26
Who, as compos'd of that firme temp'rature
Which could not bend to base complaynts, nor wayle
As weakeness doth (fore-knowing how t'indure)
Fayl'd not her selfe, though Fortune did her fayle;
But, rather casts-about how to procure
Meanes to reserue her part, and to preuaile
Of that poore time left her to saue her owne;
As one though ouer-come, not ouer-throwne:+
27
Now, when she had of fatall Lancaster
Seene all the pillars crusht and ruined,
That vnder-set it; all that followed her
Of those heroicke personages, dead,
Saue onely Sommerset , and Excester
(Who from this last destruction hardly fled)
And saw all lost, and nothing in her might,
But onely that which must be sav'd by flight:
28
Now, when there was no North left, of their owne,
To draw vnto; no side, to gather head;
No people to be rays'd, t'an emptie Crowne;
Nor yet the ground their owne, whereon they tread.
When yet your faith (worthy of all renowne)
Constant Northumbrians , firme continued:
And, though you could not render succors fit
Vnto your Sov'raigne, you would saue him yet;
29
And be (as few men, in this world, are) true
Vnto affliction, and to miserie:
And would not basely purchace and renew
Your peace, and safetie, by disloyaltie:
But wrought, that though the Victor did pursue,
With greedy care and egre industrie,
To haue surpriz'd him; yet was all in vaine,
Till he recouered Berwicke , with his Traine.
30
Where now, he was at some more vacancie
To vnderstand, and see himselfe vndone:
Which, in this sodaine-comming misery,
He had no leasure to consider-on.
And now suruaies he that poore company,
Attending on himselfe, his wife, and sonne;
Sees how that all the State, which serv'd his Crowne,
Was shut within the walls of one small towne:
31
Beholds there, what a poore distressed thing,
A King without a people was; and whence
The glory of that Mightinesse doth spring
That ouer-spreds (with such a reuerence)
This vnder-world: whence comes this furnishing
And all this splendor of Magnificence:
He sees, what chayre so-euer Monarch sate
Vpon, on Earth, the People was the State.
32
And yet, although he did contayne no more
Then what he saw; yet saw a peece so small
Could not containe him. What he was before,
Made him vncapable of any wall,
To yeeld him succour now; he must haue more,
Then onely this small Holde, or none at all.
And therefore, this (se'ing it auayl'd him not,
Nor could he keepe) he renders to the Scot;
33
As th'Earnest, to confirme and ratifie
The league betweene them two, newly begun:
Whereof to make more sure and faster tye,
He promist, too, th'alliance of his sonne:
And all that might secure their amity,
With willingnesse, on either side was done.
And heere they practise, all they can deuise,
To turne reuenge vpon their Enemyes.
34
Thus, England , didst thou see the mightiest King
Thou euer hadst (in Power and Maiesty
Of State, and of Dominions; gouerning
A most magnificent Nobility;
With an aduent'rous people, flourishing
In all the glories of felicitie)
Chac't from his kingdom, forc't to seeke redresse
In parts remote, distrest and succourlesse.
35
Now Bullingbrook , these miseries, heere showne,
Doo much vnlode thy sinne; make thy ill, good.
For, if thou didst by wrong, attaine the Crowne,
T'was without cryes; it cost but little bloud:
But, Yorke , by his attempt hath ouer-throwne
All the best glorie wherein England stood;
And did his state by her vndooing winne:
And was, though white without, yet red within.
36
And thus he hath it; and is now to deale
For th'intertaining and continuance
Of mens affections; and to seeke to heale
Those foul corruptions, which the maintenance
Of so long wars bred in the Common-weale.
He must remunerate, prefer, aduance,
His chiefest friendes; and prosecute with might,
The aduerse part; doo wrong, to doo men right:
37
Whilst Martiall Margaret , with her hopefull Sonne,
Is trauailing in France to purchase ayde;
And plots, and toiles, and nothing leaues vndone;
Though all in vaine. For, being thus ouer-lay'd
By Fortune and the Time, all that is done
Is out of season. For she must haue stay'd
Till that first heate of mens affections (which
They beare new Kings) were laid, and not so much.
38
When they should finde, that they had gayn'd no more,
Then th'Asse, by changing of his Maisters, did;
(Who still must labour as he vs'd besore)
And those expectancies came frustrated,
Which they had set vpon th'imagin'd score,
Of their accounts; and had considered,
How that it did but little benefite
The Doues; To change the Falcon, for the Kite.
39
And yet braue Queene, for three yeares of his Raigne,
Thou gau'st him little breathing time of rest;
But still his miseries didst entertaine
With new attempts, and new assaults addrest:
And, at thy now-returne from France againe,
(Suppli'd with forces) once more gatheredst
An Army for the Field, and brought'st, to warre,
The scattered parts of broken Lancaster .
40
And once againe, at Exham , ledst them on
With Scots, and French t'another bloody day;
And there beheldst thy selfe againe vndone,
With all that Rest, whereon thy fortunes lay.
Where, Somerset (late to King Edward gone,
And got his pardon) hauing scap't away,
With noble Percie , came to bring their blood
Vnto thy side, whereto they first had stood.
41
Where, the Lords, Molines, Rosse , and Hungerford ,
With many else of noble Families,
Extinguisht were; and many that daies sword
Cut-off their names, in their posterities.
Where fled, againe, their lucklesse followed Lord;
And is so neere pursu'd by th'enemies,
As th'Ensigne of his Crowne was seiz'd vpon,
For him who had before his Kingdome wonne;
42
And shortly after, too, his person gat.
For he, now wearied with his long exile,
And miseries abrode, grew passionate,
With longing to returne t'his natiue soyle.
And se'ing he could not do the same, in State;
He seekes, disguis'd in fashion, to beguile
The world a time, and steale the libertie
And sight of his deare Country, priuately:
43
As if there were, for a pursued King,
A couert left on earth, wherein to hide;
When Powre and Iealousie are trauailing,
And lay to catch affliction, on each side.
Misfortune serues, we see, for euery thing,
And soon he comes, God knows, to be descry'd:
And Edward hath the booty he desir'd:
For whose establishment, all things conspir'd.
44
Yet, long it was not, ere a fire began
To take, in th'inwardst Closet, where he lay'd
The treasure of his chiefest trust; and ran
From thence, through al his State, before it staid.
For, be'ing a King, who his whole fortunes wan
With others handes, must many leaue vnpay'd:
And could not fill vp that vast greedinesse
Of Expectation, which is bottomlesse:
45
Though he did all the best that in him lay
(As a most actiue Prince) to satisfie
The int'rest of their trauayles, and defray
The bands contracted twixt his soueraignty
And the Republick: seeking to allay
All greeuances; reorder equity;
Reform the Barres, that Iustice did abuse;
Lay easie on the State, as new Kings vse.
46
As he, who, hauing found great Treasury,
The first yeare offers, with most gratefull cheere,
A sheepe of gold, to Iunoes deity;
And next, of siluer, for the second yeare;
The third, of brasse; and then, neglectiuely,
Nothing at all: So those respects, which were
Borne of a present feeling, mov'd him most;
But soon were with their times and motiues lost.
47
And, what his bounty could not recompense,
He payes with honors, and with dignities.
And (more to angle the beneuolence,
And catch the loue of men, with curtesies)
He oft would make his dignity dispense
With his too lowe familiarities;
Descending, from his Sphere of Maiesty,
Beneath himselfe, very submissiuely.
48
And when he had dispos'd, in some good traine,
His home affaires; he counsells how t'aduance
His forraine correspondence, with the chaine
Of some alliance that might countenance
His Greatnesse, and his quiet intertaine.
Which was thought fittest with some match, of France ;
To hold that Kingdome, from subayding such
Who else could not subsist, nor hope so much.
49
Nor was it now a time to haue contrast
With any forrain mighty Potentate;
But keep the outer doores of each side fast,
Hauing so much to doo within his State.
And, therevpon, was Warwicke (by whose cast
All must be wrought) imploy'd to mediate
A present Marriage, to be had betweene
Him, and the sister of the yong French Queene.
50
Which was not long, nor hard to bring to passe
Where like respects met in a point alike.
So that the same as euen concluded was,
And all as done; Lady and friends all like:
When Loue, the Lord of Kings (by whom must passe
This Act of our Affections) tooke dislike
That he was not made priuy thereunto;
And therefore, in his wrath, would all vndoe.
51
For, whiles this youthfull Prince, at his disport
In Grafton woods, retyr'd from publick care,
Attending how his sute in France did sorte
(Whereon his cogitations onely were)
He comes, at home, surpris'd in other sort;
A neerer fire inflam'd his passions heere;
An English Beautie, with more worth indu'd
Then France could yeeld, his royall heart subdu'd.
52
A wofull widdow, whom his quarrell had
(As it had many moe) made desolate,
Came to his Court, in mournfull habit clad,
To sue for Iustice, to relieue her state.
And entring as a suppliant all sad;
With gracefull sorrow, and a comely gate
She past the Presence: where, all eyes were cast
On her more stately presence, as she past.
53
Her lookes, not let-abrode (but carefully
Kept in, restraind) hold their reseruednesse:
Obseruing none but her owne dignity,
And his, to whom she did her selfe addresse.
And, drawing neere his royall Maiesty,
A blush of reuerence, not bashfulnesse,
Lightned her louely cheeks, and downe she kneeles;
Giues her Petition, for the wrongs she feeles.
54
And, in deliv'ring it, lifts vp her eyes
(The mouingst Mediatours shee could bring)
And strait withdrawes them, in submissiue wise;
Not fixing them directly on the King:
Who, mov'd with her sweet fashion, bade her rise,
With gentle language full of comforting;
Read her request: but thought not what he read.
The lines, hee view'd, her eyes had figured.
55
Then paus'd a while, and musd; as if he weigh'd
The substance of her sute. The which, God wote,
Was not the thing he mus'd. And, hauing stay'd,
Seem'd to read on againe; but yet reades not:
And still a stealing side-cast looke conuai'd
On her sweet face; as if he had forgot
To be else-where, then where he did behold:
And thought not what he did; but what he would.
56
But, least his sodaine passion might haue, there,
More witnesses then he would wish to haue;
He tooke vp his desires, which posting were
Beyond their stages; and this answere gaue:
Madam, we will our selfe take time to heare
Your Cause at large: wherein we wil you haue
No other reference, but repaire to vs:
Who will accommodate this businesse.
57
She, that expected present remedie
(Hearing this dilatory answer) thought,
The King found scruple in the equitie
Of her request; and thereupon he sought
To put her to delayes of Court, whereby
She might be tyr'd, and in the end get nought.
And that, which her opinion made more strong,
Was that he studied, and was mute, so long.
58
Which forc't from her these wordes: My Lord,
Let not my being a Lancastrian bred
Without mine owne election, disafford
Me right, or make my Cause disfigured;
Since I am now the subiect of your sword:
Which God hath (with your Right) established,
To doo vs right: and let not what wee were,
Be now the cause to hurt vs as we are.
59
Ladie, mistake me not: neuer did I
Make war with women, nor vs'd womens war,
Reuenge; but prosecuted honestly
My Right, not Men. My quarrels ended are,
With my obtayning of the victorie.
And (Lady) knowe, your Cause moues me thus far,
As you shall finde, sayd hee, I doo desire
To doo you greater right then you require.
60
With this, they part; both, with their thoughts full charg'd:
She, of her sute in hand; and he of her:
Wherein, he spends that night, and quite discharg'd
All other cogitations; to confer,
First, how he might haue her estate inlarg'd:
Then, in what sort her seruice to prefer
Vnto his new exspected Wife and Queene:
Then, how to maske his loue, from being seene.
61
For, yet, Lust was not growne to that degree
To haue no limits; but that Shame kept-in
The greatest Greatnes, from this being free
To hold their Wantonness to be no sinne.
For, though Kings cannot ouer-maistred bee,
They will be ouer-lookt, and seene within:
And, though they could their weaknesses make sure;
Yet crymes, though safe, can neuer be secure.
62
Sometimes, he thinks it better to prouide
A place retyr'd, and haue her from the Court:
And then, with what pretentions he might hide
His priuat comming, and his oft resort:
Then, by his Queene, if it should be espi'd,
How he might cleare with her, and stop report.
And thus consumes the night: and if hee slept,
He slept those thoughts that with these passions kept.
63
The morning being com'n (and glad he was
That it was com'n) after so long a night
He thought would haue no morning (time did passe
So slowe, and his desires ran-on so light)
A messenger with speed dispatched was,
Of speciall trust, this Lady to inuite
To come t'his presence; though before the time
That Ladies rise: who rarely rise betime.
64
Yet soone shee hastes: and yet that soone seem'd long,
To him whose longing went so swift a pase:
And frets, that such attyring should belong
To that which yeelds it selfe sufficient grace;
Consid'ring how these ornaments may wrong
The set of beautie: which, we see, doth grace
Th'attire it weares, and is not grac't thereby;
As be'ing that onely, which doth take the eye.
65
But now, be'ing com'n, that quarrell of delay
Streight ended was: her presence satisfies
All, what Expectance had layd out for stay:
And he beheld more sweetnesse in her eyes,
And saw her more then she was yesterday:
A cheerliness did with her hopes arise,
That lamped cleerer then it did before,
And made her spirit, and his affections, more.
66
When, those who were about him, presently
Voyded the roome, and left him to confer
Alone with his faire Suter priuatly
(As they who to his courses conscious were)
And he began: Madame, the remedie
Which you (in your Petition) sue-for here,
Shall be allow'd to th'vtmost that you craue,
With th'expedition you would wish to haue.
67
And here I haue another sute to you:
Which if you please to grant, wee both shall now
Rest equally content. Wherewith, there grew
That sodaine alteration in her brow,
As all were ouer-cast; and so with-drew
That freedome from her lookes (least they should 'low
More then her heart might meane) as they reflect
A narrower and a carefuller aspect.
68
That when he saw this barrier of dislike
Thus inter-set, to keepe his forwardnes
Backe from presumptiue pressing; it did strike
That reuerence, as it staide him to expresse
His farther will. And she replies: 'Tis like,
When Kings to subiects sue, they meane no less
Then to command; nor must they be withstood;
For-that good Kings will seeke but what is good.
69
And, in that faire respect, your Maiestie,
According to your will, both must and may
Command my seruice; who most reuerently
Your royall pleasure euer shall obay.
With which word, pleasure (though it doubtfully
In that hard fastnesse of condition lay,
Vnder the locke of goodnesse) he was cast
In hope, he might obtaine the same at last.
70
And thus reioynes; My pleasure only shall
Be, Madame, for your good; please it but you
To make it so. And, here to tell you all,
I loue you; and therein I tell you true.
What honour may by Kings affections fall,
Must light vpon your fortunes, as your due.
And though France shall a Wife, for fashion, bring:
You must be th'onely mistress of the King.
71
Streight might you see, how Scorne, and Feare, & Shame
(All intermixt in one aspect) returne
The message of her thoughts, before words came.
And first, within her brow, in state sate Scorne;
Shame in her Cheekes; where also Feare became
An In-mate too; and both appeare, by turne:
Blushes did paleness, paleness blushes chace;
As scorning, fearing, shaming such disgrace.
72
She scornes to be addeem'd so worthlesse-base
As to bee mov'd to such an infamie.
She shames to thinke that ought, within her face,
Should breed th'opinion of immodestie.
Shee feares the fatall daunger of the place,
Her loneness, and the powre of Maiestie:
And so (confus'd) in feare, in shame, in scorne,
This Answere to his Motion doth returne:
73
My sov'raigne Lord, it grieues me that you deeme,
Because I in this sort for Iustice sue,
I would the same with mine owne wrong redeeme,
And by dishonour reobtaine my due:
No: I would hate that right, which should but seeme
To be beholding to a wanton view
Or motiue of my person, not my Cause;
That craues but right, from Iustice, and your lawes.
74
And knowe, great Monarch, that I more doo waigh
My Distaffe with mine honour, then I doo
The mightiest Scepter, King did euer sway
Vpon the earth, or Nations bow'd vnto.
I owe subiection; which I humbly pay,
With all the outward seruice I can doo:
But, Sov'raigne, in the region of my hart
I raigne sole Queene; no King can force a part.
75
Here, Feare a little interpos'd a touch,
To warne her violence to temporize
With Powre, and State: and she concludes her speach,
With crauing pardon in more humble wise:
Yet, in proud humble wise: which shew'd, how much
She did her honor aboue Greatnes prise.
And so, being full of what she did conceiue,
Desires to be dismist, and takes her leaue.
76
Here, Mary Pembrooke (by whose generous brow,
And noble graces, I delineat
These shapes of others virtues) could I showe
In what a desperat and confus'd estate
She left this disappointed King; and how
Loue and Ambition in their glory sate,
And tyranniz'd on his diuided hart,
Warring each other with a powrefull part.
77
How first, Loue vnderneath his Colours brought
The strength of all her gracefull worthinesse:
And sets them in th'aduantage of his thought,
Vpon the side of Youth and Wantonnesse:
Then how Ambition, that for glory wrought,
Comes with his State, his Crowne, and Powrfulnes,
And plants her on the side of prouidence,
To beat vnfit Affections off from thence.
78
But, I must ouer-goe these passages;
And hasten-on my way, to ouer-take
Mine endes, in sad and grauer businesses;
Wherof I shall to you relation make:
And yet my zeale here forc't mee thus t'expresse
Elizabeth , for our Elizaes sake;
Who grac't the Muses (which her Times became):
For, they who giue them comfort, must haue fame.
79
And I must tell you now, when this great fight
Of counter-passions had beene throughly try'd,
How in the ende the victorie did light
Vpon Loues forces, as the stronger side;
And beat downe those respects of benefite,
Of honor, greatnes, strength, and all beside;
And neuer graunted rest vnto his strife,
Till mariage rites had her confirm'd his wife.
80
Which, that place, where he saw her first, saw donne,
Ere he remov'd his foot: for, Loue is stil
In haste, and (as a Lord, that rules alone)
Admittes no Counseller, in good nor ill.
For, He and Kings gladly giue eare to none,
But such as smooth their wayes, and sooth their will.
And who will not desire to giue his voyce
(Be what it will) to prayse a Princes choyce?
81
Which was (indeed) in virtue, beautie, grace,
And all but fortune, worthy of his bed:
And in that too, had hee but liv'd the space
T'haue seene her plentious issue fully bred;
That they might haue collated strength and grace
On her weake side: which (scornd and malicèd)
Lay-open vndefenc't, apt to b'vndon
By proud vsurping Powre, when he was gon.
82
But now, when fame of this home-chosen Match
Arriu'd in France (for there it did arriue,
Ere they could heere attend to make dispatch
T'impart the same to Warwick , or contriue
Some colour that in any sort might fetch
Him fayrely off, and no dishonor giue)
It so much stird the humors in those parts,
As marr'd the whole complexion of their hearts.
83
The French King scornes such an indignity.
VVarwick disdaines imployment in this case.
The Queene (inrag'd) with extreame vehemency,
Stormes at her sisters and her owne disgrace.
The Lady Bona takes most tenderly
To be so mockt, with hope of such a Place:
And all blame Warwick , and his fraud condem;
Whil'st he himself, deceiu'd, suffers with them:
84
And could not (by all meanes might be deuiz'd)
Vntaste them of this violent disgust;
But that they still held, something lay disguis'd
Vnder this treaty. So that now he must
Bring-home his reputation cauteris'd
With th'idle marke of seruing others lust
In friuolous imployments, or be sent
Out of the way to colour some intent.
85
“Which, to himselfe, made him, with griefe inueigh
“Against distemp'red kings: who often are
“Ill warrants for their owne affaires; and waigh
“Their lusts, more then their dignity, by far:
“And what a miserie they haue that sway
“Their great designes; what danger, and what care;
“And often must be forc't, be'ing at their becks,
“To crack their reputation, or their necks.
86
“How their high fauours like as fig-trees are,
“That growe vpon the sides of rocks; where they
“Who reach their fruit, aduenture must so far
“As t'hazard their deep down-fall and decay.
“Their grace, not fixt; but, as a blazing star
“Burnes out the present matter, and away:
“And how the world could too wel witnesse beare,
“That both their loues and hates like dangerous were.
87
Thus he complaynes, and makes his home-retire;
All disappointed of his purposes
For, hoping, by this Match, to hold intire
That Lady, with her great alliances;
And haue the King more firm to his desire,
By managing of both their bus'nesses;
He, by this Match (thus made without his mean)
Comes barr'd from al those tying int'rests cleane.
88
For, well he knew, that all his seruice past
Was past; and would not be a future tye
To hold him in, vnlesse that he could cast
To introduce some neere necessity
Of his imployment, that were like to last,
And shut-out all other concurrency.
Without which, nor his Greatnes, nor his Wits,
Could ward him from the Kings vnconstant fits.
89
Which more perplext him, and in neerer sort,
Then what France might by his ambassage ghesse,
Or England deeme. But, being arriu'd at Cort,
He drawes a Trauerse 'twixt his greeuances;
Lookes like the time: his eye made not report
Of what he felt within: nor was he lesse
Then vsually he was, in euery part;
Wore a cleere face, vpon a clowdy hart:
90
Congratulates the Queene; commends the King
For his rare choice; protesting her to be
Far beyond all, the world beside could bring
To fit his liking; and that he did see
The Lady Bona was a peeuish thing,
Sullayne, and proud; and would in no degree
Haue pleas'd his humor, or in any sort
Haue satisfi'd the Ladies of this Cort.
91
And, after hauing finisht all the rite
Of complement and interuisiting;
He humbly craues dismission that he might
Retyre a while, t'attend the managing
And setting of his country-bus'nesse right;
Whereby the better to attend the King:
From whom he parts; and neuer seem'd more deere,
More grac't, nor yet himselfe of fre'er cheere.
92
First, VVarwick Castle (that had seldome knowne
The Maister there) he visits; and from thence
Goes t'other goodly Mannours of his owne.
Where, seene with ioy, with loue, with reuerence;
(King of him selfe,) he findes that there is show'n
The vse of life, the true magnificence,
T'inioy his Greatnesse: which, at Corte, in vaine
Men toyle-for, and yet neuer doo attaine.
93
Which, his religious Confessor (who best
Could cast, with what a violent accesse,
This feuer of Ambition did molest
His still-sick minde) takes hold-on; to addresse
(Vpon th'aduantage of this little rest)
Some lenitiues, t'allay the firynesse
Of this disease; which (as a maladie,
Seiz'd in the Spirits) hath seldom remedy.
94
“And thus sets on him: See, my Lord, how heere
“Th'eternall Prouidence of God hath brought
“You to the Shore of safetie (out of feare)
“From all the waues of misery, that wrought
“To ouer-whelm you; and hath set you cleare,
“Where you would bee; with hauing (which you sought
“Through all these hazards of distresse) a King
“Of your owne making and establishing.
95
“And now, my Lord, I trust you will sit downe,
“And rest you, after all this passed thrall,
“And be your selfe (a Prince within your owne)
“Without aduent'ring any more at all
“Your state in others Bottomes; hauing knowne
“The dangers that on mighty Actors fall;
“Since, in the foot of your accompts, your gaynes
“Come-short to make euen reck'ning with your paines.
96
“Inioy now what you wrought-for, in this sort
“(If great-mens Endes be to enjoy their Endes)
“And knowe, the happiest powre, the greatest port,
“Is onely that which on it selfe depends.
“Heere haue you State inough to be a Cort
“Vnto your selfe; here, where the world attends
“On you, not you on it, obserued sole:
“You, else-where but a part, are heere the whole.
97
“Th'aduantages of Princes, are (we see)
“But things conceiu'd imaginarily.
“For, euery state of fortune, in degree,
“Some image hath of principalitie:
“Which they inioy more naturall and free,
“Then can great Powers, chain'd with observancie,
“And with the fetters of respect still ty'd;
“Being easier far to follow then to guide.
98
“And what art Corts, but Camps of misery?
“That doo besiege mens states, and still are prest
“T'assaile, prevent, complot, and fortifie;
“In hope t'attaine, in feare to be supprest;
“Where, all with shewes, and with apparancie,
“Men seeme, as if for stratagems addrest:
“Where, Fortune, as the Woolfe, doth still prefer
“The fowlest of the traine that followes her.
99
“And where, fayre hopes are lay'd (as ambushments)
“To intercept your life, and to betray
“Your liberty to such intanglements,
“As you shal neuer-more get cleare away:
“Where, both th'ingagement of your owne intents,
“And others recknings, and accounts, shall lay
“Such waights vpon you, as you shal not part,
“Vnlesse you breake your credit, or your heart.
100
“Besides: as exiles, euer from your homes
“You liue perpetuall in disturbancy;
“Contending, thrusting, shuffling for your roomes
“Of ease or honor, with impatiency:
“Building your fortunes, vpon others tombes,
“For other then your owne posterity.
“You see, Corts few aduance; many vndoo:
“And those they do aduance, they ruine too.
101
“And therefore now, my Lord, since you are heere,
“Where you may haue your rest with dignitie;
“Worke that you may continue so: and cleare
“Your selfe, from out these streights of misery
“Hold your estate and life, as things more deare
“Then to be throwne at an vncertainty.
“Tis time, that you and England haue a calme;
“And time, the Oliue stood aboue the Palme.
102
Thus the good Father, with an humble thought
(Bred in a Cellularie lowe retyre)
According to his quiet humor, sought
T'auert him from his turbulent desire;
“When the great Earle began: Father, I note
“What you with zeale aduise, with loue require:
“And I must thanke you, for this care you haue,
“And for those good aduertisements you gaue.
103
“And truely, Father, could I but get free
“(Without being rent) and hold my dignitie;
“That Sheep-cot, which in yonder vale you see
“(Beset with Groues, and those sweet Springs hard-by)
“I rather would my Palace wish to bee,
“Then any roofe, of proudest Maiestie:
“But, that I cannot dooe; I haue my part:
“And I must liue, in one house, with my hart.
104
“I knowe, that I am fixt vnto a Sphere
“That is ordayn'd to moue. It is the place
“My fate appoints me; and the region where
“I must, what-euer happens, there, imbrace.
“Disturbance, trauaile, labor, hope and feare,
“Are of that Clime, ingendred in that place;
“And action best, I see, becomes the Best:
“The Starres, that haue most glorie, haue no rest.
105
“Besides: it were a Cowards part, to fly
“Now from my Holde, that haue held out so well;
“It be'ing the Station of my life, where I
“Am set to serue, and stand as Sentinell:
“And must, of force, make good the place, or dy,
“When Fate and Fortune (those great States) compell.
“And then, we Lords in such case euer are,
“As peace can cut our throats aswell as war.
106
“And hath her griefes, and her incombrances:
“And doth with idle rest, deforme vs more
“Then any Magha can, or sorceresse,
“With basely wasting all the Martiall store
“Of heat and spirit (which graceth Manlinesse)
“And makes vs still false images adore:
“Besides profusion of our faculties,
“In grosse dull glutt'ny, vap'rous gourmandise.
107
“And therefore since I am the man I am,
“I must not giue a foote, least I giue all.
“Nor is this Bird within my breast so tame,
“As to be fed at hand, and mockt with-all.
“I rather would my state were out of frame,
“Then my renowne should come to get a fall.
“No, no: th'vngratefull boy shall neuer think,
“That I, who him inlarg'd to powre, will shrink.
108
“What is our life, without our dignitie?
“Which oft, we see, comes lesse by liuing long
“Who euer was there worth the memorie,
“And eminent indeed, but still dy'd young?
“As if worth had agreed with destinie,
“That time, which rightes them, should not doo the wrong.
“Besides; Old-age doth giue, by too long space,
“Our soules as many wrinkles as our face.
109
“And as for my inheritance and State
“(What euer happen) I wil so prouide
“That Law shall, with what strength it hath, collate
“The same on mine, and those to mine ally'd:
“Although I knowe, she serues a present State,
“And can vndoo againe what shee hath ty'd.
“But, that we leaue to him, who poynts-out heyres:
“And howsoeuer, yet the world is theirs.
110
“Where, they must worke it out; as borne to run
“Those Fortunes, which as mightie Families
“(As euer they could be) before haue donne.
“Nor shall they gaine, by mine indignities,
“Who may without my courses be vndonne.
“And who-so makes his State, and life, his tyes
“To doo vnworthily, is borne a slaue:
“And let him with that brand go to his Graue.
111
Here, would the reuerent Father haue reply'd,
That it were far more Magnanimitie,
T'indure, then to resist: that we are ty'd
As well to beare the inconueniencie
And straynes of Kings and States; as to abide
Vntimely raynes, tempests, sterilitie,
And other ills of Nature that befall:
Which we, of force, must be content withall:
112
But that a speedy messenger was sent
To shewe, the D. of Clarence was hard-by
And, thereupon, VVarwicke breakes-off, and went
(With all his traine attending formally)
To intertaine him, with fit complement;
As, glad of such an opportunitie
To worke vpon, for those high purposes
He had conceiu'd in discontentednes.
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