An English Garner: Ingatherings from Our History and Literature (4 of 8)
AN
ENGLISH GARNER.
VOLUME IV.
Contents of the Fourth Volume.
PAGE
[? THOMAS OCCLEVE, Clerk in the Office of the Privy Seal.] The Letter of Cupid. (1402.) 54
EDWARD UNDERHILL, Esq., of the Band of Gentlemen Pensioners, surnamed, "The hot Gospeller." Examination and Imprisonment in August 1553; with anecdotes of the Time (? 1562.) 72
[LUKE SHEPHERD, M.D.] JOHN BON AND MAST PARSON. (? 1551.) 101
ROBERT TOMSON, of Andover, Merchant. Voyage to the West Indies and Mexico, 1556-1558, A.D. 11
JOHN FOX, the Martyrologist. The Imprisonment of the Princess Elizabeth. (1563.) 112
Rev. THOMAS BRICE. A compendious Register in metre, containing the names and patient sufferings of the members of Jesus Christ, and the tormented, and cruelly burned within England; since the death of our famous King, of immortal memory, EDWARD the Sixth, to the entrance and beginning of the reign of our Sovereign and dearest Lady ELIZABETH, of England, France, and Ireland, Queen; Defender of the Faith; to whose Highness truly and properly appertaineth, next and immediately under GOD, the supreme power and authority of the Churches of England and Ireland. (1559.) 143
GEORGE FERRERS, the Poet. The winning of Calais by the French, January 1558 A.D. General Narrative of the Recapture. (? 1568.) 173
The Passage of our dread Sovereign Lady, Queen ELIZABETH, through the City of London to Westminster, the day before her Coronation. (1558.) 217
Lord WENTWORTH, the Lord Deputy of Calais, and the Council there. Letter to Queen Mary, 23rd May, 1557 186
Lords WENTWORTH and GREY, and the Council at Calais. Report to Queen Mary, 27th December, 1557 187
Lord WENTWORTH, at Calais. Letter to Queen MARY, 1 January, 1558, 9 p.m. 190
---- Letter to Queen MARY, 2 January, 1558, 10 p.m. 192
JOHN HIGHFIELD, Master of the Ordnance at Calais. To the Queen, our sovereign Lady. (? 1558.) 196
Rev. WILLIAM HARRISON, B.D., Canon of Windsor, and Rector of Radwinter. ELIZABETH arms England, which MARY had left defenceless, (? 1588.) 248
ALCILIA: PHILOPARTHEN's Loving Folly. (1595.) 253
LYRICS, ELEGIES, &C. The First Book of Songs or Airs. By JOHN DOWLAND, Bachelor of Music. (1597.) 28
---- The Second Book of Songs or Airs. By JOHN DOWLAND, Bachelor of Music. (1600.) 519
---- The Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs. By JOHN DOWLAND, Bachelor of Music. (1603.) 609
---- A Pilgrim's Solace. By JOHN DOWLAND, Bachelor of Music. (1612.) 644
Sir THOMAS OVERBURY his Observations in his Travels, upon the State of the Seventeen Provinces, as they stood Anno Domini 1609: the Treaty of Peace being then on foot. (1626.) 297
TOBIAS GENTLEMAN, Fisherman and Mariner. England's Way to Win Wealth, and to employ Ships and Mariners. (1614.) 323
BEN JONSON. Answer to Master WITHER's Song, Shall I, wasting in despair. (1617.) 577
King JAMES. The King's Majesty's Declaration to his Subjects, concerning lawful Sports to be used. (1618.) 511
The Famous and Wonderful Recovery of a Ship of Bristol, called the Exchange, from the Turkish Pirates of Argier. With the unmatchable attempts and good success of JOHN RAWLINS, Pilot in her, and other slaves: who, in the end (with the slaughter of about forty of the Turks and Moors), brought the ship into Plymouth, the 13th of February [1622] last, with the Captain a Renegado, and five Turks more; besides the redemption of twenty-four men and one boy from Turkish slavery. (1622.) 581
GEO. WITHER. Fair VIRTUE, the Mistress of PHIL'ARETE. (1622.) 353
---- A Miscellany of Epigrams, Sonnets, Epitaphs, and such other Verses as were found written with the Poem aforegoing. (1622.) 495
JOHN RUSHWORTH, Esq., of Lincoln's Inn. The Sequestration of Archbishop ABBOT from all his Ecclesiastical Offices, in 1627. 535
R[ICHARD] Y[?OUNG]. The state of a Christian lively set forth, by an allegory of a Ship under Sail. (1636.) 49
ABRAHAM COWLEY. The Chronicle. A BALLAD. (1669.) 319
A true and just Relation of Major-General Sir THOMAS MORGAN's Progress in France and Flanders with the Six Thousand English, in the years 1657 and 1658, at the taking of Dunkirk, and other important places. (1699.) 623
FIRST LINES OF POEMS AND STANZAS.
PAGE
Adieu 478 Adieu, fond Love! 291 Admire not, Shepherd 423 A foul vice it is 59 After dark night, the 268 After long sickness 271 After long storms 285 "Ah, Lady mine!" 55 "Ah, me!" 476 A lad, whose faith 399 Alas, poor fools! 101 Albeit that men find 59 ALCILIA's eyes have set 267 ALCILIA said 270 All in vain is Ladies' 529 All the day, the sun 45 All their riches 492 All the night, my sleeps 45 All ye, whom love 42 A lover of the 456 Although through 57 And all the little lime 322 And for that every 56 And, furthermore, have 57 And GOD, to whom 68 And if thine Ears 525 And if those, who 491 And Love itself is 621 And, now, no more 426 And of mercy, hath 69 And O grant, thou 359 And the book 61 And this shall be the 386 And though I never 386 And though the work 260 And touching this 67 And trusteth well 63 And when he saddest 46 And when this man 56 And where men say 68 And yet although 426 And yet, I do not fear 424 And yet, if in time 507 And you, my Thoughts 35 An old proverb there 60 Another MARY then 320 Another wretch, unto 57 "Are we the two that 433 Are you false gods! 616 Are you fled, Fair! 616 As Heat to Life 648 A Shepherd in a shade 530 As Hope hath here 169 As LOVE had drawn 266 "A thousand lives I 401 A thousand times 275 Awake, sweet love! 46 Away with these 47 A wicked tree 60
Base servile thoughts 292 Beauty can want no 613 Behold a wonder 612 Be not proud, because 487 Be thou still 493 Betrayin not men 57 Better a thousand times 37 Blush not, my Love! 266 Both knit in one 654 Bound to none 484 Boy! ha' done! 406 Burst forth my tears! 38 "But could thy fiery 613 But fie! my foolish 426 But her in heart 62 But in her eyes 385 But in her place 321 But I will briefer 322 But kissing and 431 But let nor Nymph 405 But lest this conquest 435 But, maugre them 62 But nought, alas 262 But O, the fury 42 But, O, thrice happy! 424 But say! What fruit 383 But should I now 321 But such as will run 622 But such visions 508 But, trust me! 505 But, understandeth 70 But what can stay 34 But when ISABELLA 321 But why 476 But, yet, at last, I 456 But yet it is a sport 622 By a fountain where 617 By greatest titles 484 By process moveth 55 By these imperfections 506 By thine error thou 530 By this, thy tunes 520 'By thy Beauty 359
Can he prize the 428 Can Love be rich 36 Can she excuse my 36 Care that consumes 43 'Cause her fortunes seem 579 'Cause her fortunes 579 'Cause her fortune 454 Cease, cease, cease 656 Clear or cloudy 533 Clerkis feign also there 65 Cold as ice frozen 617 Cold, hold! the sun 619 Come again! Sweet 44 Come again! that I 44 Come away! come 40 Come away! come 41 "Come, gentle Death! 205 Come, heavy Sleep! 47 Come, my Muse! 381 Come, Shadow of my 47 Come, when I call 622 Come, ye heavy States 528 Come, You Virgins of 528 CUPIDO (unto whose 54
Daphne was not so 613 Dear! if I do 38 Dear, if you change! 38 Dear! let me die 648 Dear! when I from thee 37 Declare the griefs 273 Die not before thy day! 523 Disdain me still 648 Do as thou wouldst 100 Down her cheeks, the 509 Down vain lights! 523
Each hour, amidst 44 Each natural thing 295 Ear never heard of 405 Earth with her flowers 38 ELIZA, till this hour 319 Enough of this! 275 Ere I had twice 480 "Every woman" 58 Example we have 100 Experience which 526
Failed of that hap 289 Fain would I speak 269 Fain would I tell 403 Fair is my love! 265 Fair! Since thy 453 Fair tree, but fruitless! 273 Fair with garlands 618 False World! farewell! 653 Farewell 477 Farewell, too fair! 611 Farewell, too dear! 611 Farewell, Unkind! 619 Fast fixed in my heart 262 Fear to offend forbids 271 Fie on this feigning! 620 Fine knacks for ladies! 526 Flow, my tears! 523 Flow not so fast 614 Fly, my Breast! 530 "For if thy heart 432 For if thou shalt not 493 For like two suns 455 For, lo, a dream I had 402 For Love hath kindled 404 For my heart, though 530 For next, shall thy 507 For on my chin 481 "For should we do 433 For when I waking 403 From Fame's desire 525 From silent night 653 Fulfilled be it! 71 Full hard it is 55
Gentle HENRIETTE 321 Gentle LOVE draw 45 Gentle Swain! 490 God CUPID's shaft, 47 Go, nightly cares! 653 Go, wantons, now 435 Great gifts are guiles 527 Great men have helps 425 Great, or Good 455 Great, or Good, or 580 Grief, alas, though 650 Grieve not thyself 289
Had I a Mistress 405 Hail, fair Beauties! 387 Hail! thou Fairest 358 Happy are these 490 Hark, you shadows! 523 Haste hapless sighs! 39 Heart's Ease and I 272 Hence, away! 427 Her body is straight 265 Her dainty palm 431 Here may you find 259 Here PHIL'ARET did 488 Her fires do inward 651 Her Grace, like June 533 Her heapèd virtue 68 He's a fool, that 428 He that Courtly 491 He that in matters 295 He that hath this 100 He that receiveth all 649 His golden locks 45 His helmet, now 46 Hope by disdain 43 How friendly was 65 "How glad, and fain 401 How happy, once 290 "How might I that 614 How shall I then 34 How vain is Youth 295 Humour say I 533
I am no Italian lover 361 I am not sick, and yet 264 I am now inclined 534 I die! 478 I do scorn, to vow 428 If all men could 491 If any carp, for that 494 If any eye therefore 654 I fare like him who 291 If CYNTHIA crave 48 If I should my sorrows 381 If I should tell 322 If I speak! 41 If it be Love 264 If love doth make 36 If Music and sweet 28 If my complaints 36 If no delays can move 43 If she, at last 47 If she esteem the 46 If she for this 35 If she will yield to 37 If such weak thoughts 424 If that in ought mine 264 If that these men, 63 If you boast that 485 I have a Love that's 424 I have elsewhere 427 I have heard that 382 I have wept, and 381 I'll go to the woods 650 I'm no slave to such 427 In any book also 69 In company 273 In general, we wollin 54 Ingrateful LOVE! 289 In her presence all 534 In looking back 293 In midst of winter 268 In my Legend of 65 In prime of Youth 295 In Reason's Court 276 In song, APOLLO gave 403 In spite of others' hates 386 In these lonely groves 492 In these thoughts 488 In vain do we 290 "I pray thee, tell! 267 I saw my Lady weep' 522 Is this a fair avaunt? 56 I that have oft 480 I to a thousand 481 It was a time when 620 It was my chance 261 I wandered out 455 I will no longer spend 293 I will not call for aid 259
Judge not by this 260 Justice gives each 532
Knew I my Love 481
Leave me! then 429 Lend your ears to my 617 Let love which never 46 Let not thy tongue 275 Let those doters on 360 Like to a man that 289 Like to the silver 613 Like to the winds 39 Lines to some 382 Long have I 268 Lo here, the Record 296 Loose Idleness! 294 Lordly Gallants! 484 Love and I are now 283 Love and Youth 283 LOVE! Art thou blind? 268 Love causèd GOD 153 Love GOD, above 100 Love is honey mixed 283 Love is sorrow mixt 284 Love is the sickness 284 LOVE now no more 612 LOVE, then I must 650 LOVERS' Conceits 291 Lovers, lament! 275 Love stood amazed 616 Love! those beams 650 Lute! Arise and 520
Malice of women! 66 Many one eke would 58 MARGARITA first 319 MARTHA soon did it 319 MARY then, and 320 Means of harbour 381 Meanwhile, vouchsafe 260 Me! me! and none 613 Men, alas, are too 381 Men bearing, eke 64 Men sayin that our 66 Mirth, then, is 534 Mispend not a morning 504 Most sacred Queen! 276 Mount, then, my 652 Mourn! Day is with 524 Mourn! Look, now 524 Much good do 't them 493 My fair ALCILIA! 267 My Heart and Tongue 654 My heart is full nigh 480 My heart where have 531 My liege! gods grant 621 My Love, by chance 266 My love doth rage 42 My merry mates! 654 "My only Dear!" 399 My songs, they be 48 My Thoughts are 35 My SPIRIT, I 286
NARCISSUS like 482 Nature two eyes 528 Nay, think not LOVE! 294 Ne no wight disceiveth 67 Never hour of pleasing 41 New found, and only 654 No charge is what 62 None comes hither 490 No! No! Where 36 No pain so great 271 No sooner had the 474 Note of me 486 Nought can I say 64 "No vulgar bliss 434 Now cease my 527 Now Grace is of such 153 Now have I spun 288 Now holdith this 70 Now LOVE sits all alone 294 Now none is bald 525 Now, O now 37 Now prick on fast! 58 Now, Young Man! 504
O crystal tears! 39 O do not smile at 480 O'ertired by cruel 402 O, every man ought 60 O fairer than ought 522 O fairest mind 652 Oft have I dreamed 615 Oft have the Nymphs 404 Of thy worth, this 358 Of Troy also 65 Of twelve Apostles 60 "O Heavens!" quoth 400 O, how honoured are 436 O, I am as heavy 534 O, if she may be 483 "O, if the Noblest 401 O judge me not 270 Once did I love 288 Once, I lived! 617 Once, in a dream 482 One man hath but one 527 One month, three days 320 On every bush, the 430 On this Glass of thy 360 Open the sluices 271 O pity me, you Powers 404 O, rather let me die 385 O, sweet words 525 O that Love should 529 O that thy sleep 40 Out, alas! my faith 45 OVID, in his book 61 O well were it, Nature 269 O what a life 292 O, what are we 432 O what hath 618 O, why had I a heart 481 Our wished wealth hath 169
Pale Jealousy! 271 Pardie! this Clerk 63 Parting from thee! 270 Parve liber Domini 257 Passing all land is 54 Pausing a while 261 Peruse with patience 153 Pity is but a poor 532 Poor COLLIN grieves 482 Poor, or Bad, or 580 Praise blindness 525 Pray we, therefore 169 Princes hold conceit 533 Proud she seemed 429
Rest awhile 41 Retire, my wandering 274
Sad Eyes! What do you 384 Sad pining Care 39 "Say, Love! if ever 613 Say, you purchase 485 Seek to raise your 485 See! these trees 457 Shall a woman's vices 579 Shall a woman's 578 Shall a woman's 454 Shall I, mine 577 Shall I strive with 650 Shall I sue? 531 Shall I swear, 381 Shall I, wasting in 454 Shall I, wasting 577 Shall my foolish heart 578 Shall then, in earnest 385 She, little moved with 400 Should my foolish 578 Should my heart be 454 Should then my love 40 Show some relenting! 620 Silly wretch! Forsake 531 "Since REASON ought 278 Since you desire 269 Sleep is a reconciling! 619 Sleep now, my Muse! 272 Sleep wayward thoughts 42 Some say that 425 Something I want; 264 Sometimes I seek for 269 Somewhat, then, I 510 So movingly these 479 So much grief 509 So powerful is the 612 Sorrow! Sorrow, stay! 523 Sorrow, to see my 653 Sorrow was there made 522 So those virtues 493 Stay awhile! my 622 Stay, happy pair! 656 Stay, merry mates 655 Stay TIME, awhile 651 "Still keep thy forehead 402 "Still, when any wooèd 510 Straight on me she 509 Such are thy parts 267 Such beams infused 612 Such equal sweet 455 "Sweet Heart!" 453 Sweet! stay awhile! 648 Sweet Summer! 533
Take me, ASSURANCE! 532 Tears but augment 652 Tell me, my heart! 383 Tell me, TRUE LOVE! 652 That Gait and those 506 That GOD's true Word 169 That Forehead 505 That Lust, which thy 507 That Strength 504 The acts of Ages past 495 The ancient poets write 266 The child, for ever 292 The Cynic being asked 270 The day I see is clear 618 The days are now come 272 Thee! entirely 360 The envious swelling 67 Thee! unknown 509 The fire of Love 274 The force of Love 153 The grief whereof 399 The Ladies ever 61 The Ladies smiled oft 483 The longest day 285 The lowest trees 621 The more the virtue 70 Their word is, spoken 55 Then all those rare 505 Then, as I, on Thee 362 Then from high rock 616 Then his tears 616 Then I forthwith took 618 Then LOVE and FOLLY 286 Then, O, why so 492 Then mote it follow 64 Then sit thee down! 524 Then Thou, that art 502 Then thus I buzzed 620 Then what new study 383 Then, while their loves 362 Then will I thus 70 The painful ploughman 269 There, a fountain 509 Therefore have the 492 Therefore know! 429 Therefore on my 508 There lives no Swain 481 There was but One 291 These faults had 285 These Ladies 63 These, thy flocks do 490 The Spring of Youth 292 The sun hath twice 296 The sweet content 268 The tender Sprigs 274 "The things we have 293 The time will come 294 The wishes of the 170 The worth that 48 Think'st thou, then 39 This Beauty shews 612 This I knowing, did 382 This, thy Picture 361 Those Ears, thou 505 Those Eyes, which 506 Those Fancies that 507 Those Lips, whereon 506 Those sorry books 61 "Those that have set 401 Those, that Mistresses 361 Those tresses of Hair 505 Those, whom the 489 Though a stranger 359 Though I vainly do 485 Though little sign 247 Though of dainties 486 Though thou be fair 294 Though thy praise 358 Though you Lord it 489 Thou, their folly 492 Thou, to no man 361 Thus have I long 288 Thus Love and Grace 153 Thus, Precious Gem! 69 Thus sang the Nymph! 493 Thy Affection 490 Thy grief in my deep 36 Thy large smooth 295 Thy leave 477 Thy joints are yet 504 Thy Teeth, that stood 506 Time can abate the 615 Time's eldest son 524 Time stands still 611 'Tis not the vain 619 'Tis the Eye that 382 To all, save me 44 To ask for all thy love 649 "To err and do amiss 290 To her! Nay! 56 To her, then, yield 614 To Master JEAN 64 To paint her outward 265 To seek adventures 263 To slaunder women 59 To thee, ALCILIA! 259 To thyself, the 529 Toss not my soul 532 To whom shall I 651 True love cannot 43 Trust, Perfect Love 66 Truth is not placed 620 "Twixt Hope and Fear 274 Two pretty rills do 363
"Uncouth, unkist 272 Unhappy Eyes! 263 Unquiet thoughts! 34 Unwise was he, that 267 Upon the altar where 270 Upon the ocean 275
Vows, and oaths 529
Walking to a pleasant 508 Was I so base, that I 37 Weep you no more 619 Weep not apace 614 Welcome, black Night 655 Were every thought 651 Were Love a Fire 265 What although in 359 What, am I dead? 264 "What goodly thing 433 What hopes have I 384 What if I never 615 What is the cause 452 "What is the cause 266 "What I waking 510 What, JOHN BON! 103 What poor astronomers 621 What thing is Beauty? 292 What thing is LOVE? 289 What though my 384 When ALEXANDER 168 When AMBROSE died 165 When ASKUE, PALMER 162 When AWCOCKE, in 155 When blessèd BUTTER 155 When BRADBRIDGE 158 When BRADFORD 156 When bright 508 When constant 160 When DALE deceased 167 When DENLY died 156 When DIRICK 156 When DUNSTON 163 When fair REBECCA 320 When FORTUNE 612 When GEORGE EGLES 165 When GLOVER 158 When godly GORE 159 When HULLIARDE 160 When I have reached 404 When in thraldom 488 When I swore my 529 When JA[C]KSON 162 When JOAN 164 When JOHN DAVY 168 When JOHN FISCOKE 165 When JOHN FORMAN 162 When JOHN HORNE 163 When JOHN LESSE 158 When JOHN LOWMAS 159 When JOHN NEWMAN 157 When JOHN OSWOLD 161 When JOHN ROUGHE 166 When JOYCE BOWES 166 When KATHERINE 161 When, last of all 169 When LAURENCE 157 When learnèd RIDLEY 158 When lowly LISTER 161 When MARGARET 161 When on my bed 482 When other noble 386 When others sing 525 When PHILOMELA 430 When raging reign 154 When RAVENSDALE 163 When RICHARD 156 When RICHARD ROOTH 166 When RICHARD SMITH 158 When RICHARD YEMAN 168 When ROGERS 154 When ROWLAND 154 When SAMUEL 157 When shall Contention 171 When shall Jerusalem 170 When shall our minds 172 When shall that Man 171 When shall that painted 171 When shall the 170 When shall the blood 171 When shall the faithful 172 When shall the mind 170 When shall the serpents 171 When shall the SPIRIT 171 When shall the time 170 When shall the Trump 172 When shall the walls 170 When shall this flesh 172 When shall this life 171 When shall this time 170 When shall Thy Christ 172 When shall Thy Spouse 171 When shall True 172 When SOUTHAN 167 When SPARROW 166 When STANLY's wife 164 When SPENCER 160 When sudden chance 263 When TANKERFIELDE 157 When ten, at 165 When that JOHN 167 When the high GOD 59 When the weaver 163 When THOMAS FINALL 164 When THOMAS TYLER 168 When THOMAS 162 When THOMAS 159 When thoughts are 652 When three, within 103 When THURSTON's 166 When TOMKINS 155 When two at Ashford 164 When two men 161 When two women 160 When WHOD the 162 When WILLIAM 168 When WILLIAM 164 When WILLIAM 165 When WILLIAM 160 When WILLIAM 156 When WILLIAM 155 When WILLIAM ALLEN 157 When WILLIAM HARRIS 167 When WILLIAM NICOLL 167 When worthy WATTES 155 When worthy WEB 159 When your faults 486 When your hearts 487 Wherefore I say 67 Wherefore, Muse! 382 Wherefore proceedeth 58 Where, retchless boy! 261 Where waters smoothest 621 Whether thrallèd 492 Which if I find 385 While season served to 293 Whilom, for many 62 Whilst thus she spake 434 Whilst Youth 384 White as lilies was 528 Whoever thinks, or 35 Who seats his love 293 Who spends the weary 273 Who thinks that 35 Who would be rapt 291 Why are idle brains 491 Why court I thy 453 Why do foolish men 401 "Why do I fondly 400 Why should I love 272 Why should we hope 290 Wilt thou be abusèd 37 Wilt thou, Unkind! 43 With hand in hand 430 Within this pack 527 With pity moved 616 With pleasant toil 431 With that dismayed 400 With that, I felt 434 Woful Heart, with 530 Woman forsoke Him 69 Womanis heart 66 Women were made 284 Would my conceit 44 Wretched is he that 273
Yea, and he that thinks 382 Yet be thou mindful 43 Yet, ere, my eyes 405 Yet, if you please 649 Yet in this, Thou 362 Yet I would not 428 "Yet, let not, poor 402 Yet was this sinnè 68 You are pleasèd 487 You cannot, every day 649 You do bravely 487 You Gallants, born 425 You gentle Nymphs! 480 You may boast 484 You men that give 526 You never took so 435 Young men shall 360 You that, at a blush 370 Youthful Desire is 290 You woods! in you 526 You woody Hills! 403
VOL. IV.
ROBERT TOMSON, of Andover, Merchant.
Voyage to the West Indies and Mexico, 1556-1558, A.D.
[HAKLUYT. Voyages. 1589.]
The marvel is, that at this date, these Englishmen were allowed to go to New Spain at all; it was probably one of the results of the marriage of PHILIP with MARY TUDOR. BLAKE, FIELD, and TOMSON were probably the first British islanders who reached the city of Mexico. This narrative also gives us an account of the first auto-da-fé in that city.
* * * * *
ROBERT TOMSON, born in the town of Andover, in Hampshire, began his travels out of England in the month of March, anno 1553 [i.e., 1554]; who departing out of the city of Bristol in company of other merchants of the said city, in a good ship called the bark Young, within eight days after, arrived at Lisbon, at Portugal: where the said ROBERT TOMSON remained fifteen days. At the end of which, he shipped himself for Spain in the said ship, and within four days arrived in the bay of Cadiz in Andalusia, which is under the kingdom of Spain: and from thence, travelled up to the city of Seville by land, which is twenty leagues; and there, he repaired to the house of one JOHN FIELD, an English merchant who had dwelt in the said city of Seville eighteen or twenty years married, with wife and children. In whose house, the said TOMSON remained by the space of one whole year or thereabout, for two causes: the one, to learn the Castilian tongue; the other, to see the orders of the country, and the customs of the people.
At the end of which time, having seen the fleets of ships come out of the [West] Indies to that city, with such great quantity of gold and silver, pearls, precious stones, sugar, hides, ginger, and divers other rich commodities; he did determine with himself to seek means and opportunity to pass over to see that rich country, from whence such a great quantity of rich commodities came.
And it fell out, that within short time after, the said JOHN FIELD, where the said TOMSON was lodged, did determine to pass over into the West Indies himself, with his wife, children, and family: and, at the request of the said TOMSON, he purchased a license of the King, to pass into the Indies, for himself, wife, and children; and among them, also, for the said TOMSON to pass with them. So that presently they made preparation of victuals and other necessary provision for the voyage. But the ships which were prepared to perform the voyage being all ready to depart, were, upon certain considerations by the King's commandment, stayed and arrested, till further should be known of the King's pleasure.
Whereupon, the said JOHN FIELD, with his company and ROBERT TOMSON (being departed out of Seville, and come down to San Lucar de Barrameda, fifteen leagues off) seeing the stay made upon the ships of the said fleet, and not being assured when they would depart, determined to ship themselves for the isles of the Canaries, which are 250 leagues from San Lucar, and there to stay till the said fleet should come hither; for that is continually their port to make stay at, six or eight days, to take fresh water, bread, flesh, and other necessaries.
So that in the month of February, in anno 1555, the said ROBERT TOMSON, with the said JOHN FIELD and his company, shipped themselves in a caravel of the city of Cadiz, out of the town of San Lucar; and within six days, they arrived at the port of the Grand Canary: where at our coming, the ships that rode in the said port began to cry out of all measure, with loud voices: insomuch that the Castle, which stood fast by, began to shoot at us, and shot six or eight shot at us, and struck down our mainmast before we could hoist out our boat to go on land to know what the cause of the shooting was; seeing that we were Spanish ships, and coming into our country.
So that being on land, and complaining of the wrong and damage done unto us; they answered that "they had thought we had been French rovers, that had come into the said port to do some harm to the ships that were there." For that eight days past, there went out of the said port a caravel much like unto ours, ladened with sugars and other merchandise for Spain; and on the other side of the Point of the said island, met with a French Man of War: which took the said caravel, and unladed out of her into the said French ship, both men and goods. And it being demanded of the said Spaniards, "What other ships remained in the port whence they came?"; they answered, "There remained divers other ships, and one ladened with sugars as they were, and ready to depart for Spain." Upon the which news, the Frenchmen put thirty tall men of their ship, well appointed, into the said caravel that they had taken, and sent her back again to the said port from whence she had departed the day before.
Somewhat late towards evening, she came into port, not showing past three or four men, and so came to an anchor hard by the other ships that were in the said port. Being seen by the Castle and by the said ships, they made no reckoning of her, because they knew her: and thinking that she had found contrary winds at the sea, or having forgotten something behind them, they had returned back again for the same, they made no account of her, but let her alone riding quietly among the other ships in the said port. So that about midnight, the said caravel, with the Frenchmen in her, went aboard [touched] the other ship that lay hard by, ladened with sugars; and driving the Spaniards that were in her under the hatches, presently let slip her cables and anchors, and set sail and carried her clean away: and after this sort, deceived them. And they thinking or fearing that we were the like, did shoot at us as they did.
This being past: the next day after our arrival in the said port, we did unbark ourselves, and went on land up to the city or head town of the Grand Canaria, where we remained eighteen or twenty days; and there found certain Englishmen, merchants, servants of ANTHONY HICKMAN and EDWARD CASTELIN, merchants in the city of London, that lay there for traffic: of whom we received great courtesy and much good cheer.
After the which twenty days being past, in which we had seen the country, the people, and the disposition thereof, we departed from thence, and passed to the next isle of the Canaries, eighteen leagues off, called Teneriffe; and being come on land, went up to the city called La Laguna: where we remained seven months, attending the coming of the whole fleet, which, in the end, came; and there having taken that which they had need of, we shipped ourselves in a ship of Cadiz, being one of the said fleet, belonging to an Englishman married in the city of Cadiz in Spain, whose name was JOHN SWEETING. There came in the said ship as Captain, an Englishman also, whose name was LEONARD CHILTON, married in Cadiz, and son-in-law to the said JOHN SWEETING: and another Englishman also, whose name was RALPH SARRE, came in the same ship, which had been a merchant of the city of Exeter; one of fifty years of age or thereabouts.
So that we departed from the said islands in the month of October, the foresaid year [1555], eight ships in our company, and so directed our course towards the Bay of New Spain [Gulf of Mexico]; and, by the way, towards the island of Santo Domingo, otherwise called Hispaniola: so that within forty-two days [i.e., in December] after we departed from the said islands of Canaries, we arrived with our ship at the port of Santo Domingo; and went in over the bar, where our ship knocked her keel at her entry. There our ship rid [rode] before the town; where we went on land, and refreshed ourselves sixteen days.
There we found no bread made of wheat, but biscuit brought out of Spain, and out of the Bay of Mexico. For the country itself doth yield no kind of grain to make bread withal: but the bread they make there, is certain cakes made of roots called cassavia; which is something substantial, but it hath an unsavoury taste in the eating thereof. Flesh of beef and mutton, they have great store; for there are men that have 10,000 head of cattle, of oxen, bulls, and kine, which they do keep only for the hides: for the quantity of flesh is so great, that they are not able to spend the hundredth part. Of hog's flesh is there good store, very sweet and savoury; and so wholesome that they give it to sick folks to eat, instead of hens and capons: although they have good store of poultry of that sort, as also of guinea cocks and guinea hens.
At the time of our being there, the city of Santo Domingo was not of above 500 households of Spaniards: but of the Indians dwelling in the suburbs, there were more. The country is, most part of the year, very hot: and very full of a kind of flies or gnats with long bills [mosquitos], which do prick and molest the people very much in the night when they are asleep, in pricking their faces and hands and other parts of their bodies that lie uncovered, and make them to swell wonderfully. Also there is another kind of small worm, which creepeth into the soles of men's feet, and especially of the Black Moors [Indians] and children which use to go barefoot, and maketh their feet to grow as big as a man's head, and doth so ache that it would make one run mad. They have no remedy for the same, but to open the flesh, sometimes three or four inches, and so dig them out.
The country yieldeth great store of sugar, hides of oxen, bulls and kine, ginger, cana fistula, and salsaparilla. Mines of silver and gold there are none; but in some rivers, there is found some small quantity of gold. The principal coin that they do traffic withal in that place is black money, made of copper and brass: and this they say they do use, not for that they lack money of gold and silver to trade withal out of the other parts of [West] India, but because, if they should have good money, the merchants that deal with them in trade would carry away their gold and silver, and let the country commodities lie still. And thus much for Santo Domingo. So we were, coming from the isles of Canaries to Santo Domingo, and staying there, until the month of December: which was three months.
About the beginning of January [1556], we departed thence towards the Bay of Mexico and New Spain; towards which we set our course, and so sailed twenty-four days, till we came within fifteen leagues of San Juan de Ulua, which was the port of Mexico of our right discharge.
And being so near our said port, there rose a storm of northerly winds which came off from Terra Florida; which caused us to cast about into the sea again, for fear lest that night we should be cast upon the shore before day did break, and so put ourselves in danger of casting away. The wind and sea grew so foul and strong, that, within two hours after the storm began, nine ships that were together, were so dispersed, that we could not see one another.
One of the ships of our company, being of the burden of 500 tons, called the "Hulk of Carion," would not cast about to sea, as we did; but went that night with the land: thinking in the morning to purchase the port of San Juan de Ulua; but missing the port, went with the shore, and was cast away. There were drowned of that ship, seventy-five persons, men, women, and children; and sixty-four were saved that could swim, and had means to save themselves. Among those that perished in that ship, was a gentleman who had been Pres[id]ent the year before in Santo Domingo, his wife and four daughters, with the rest of his servants and household.
We, with the other seven ships, cast about into the sea, the storm [en]during ten days with great might, boisterous winds, fogs, and rain. Our ship, being old and weak, was so tossed that she opened at the stern a fathom under water, and the best remedy we had was to stop it with beds and pilobiers [? pillows for litters]: and for fear of sinking we threw and lightened into the sea all the goods we had, or could come by; but that would not serve.
Then we cut our mainmast, and threw all our ordnance into the sea, saving one piece; which, early in a morning, when we thought we should have sunk, we shot off: and, as it pleased GOD, there was one of the ships of our company near unto us, which we saw not by means of the great fog; which hearing the sound of the piece, and understanding some of the company to be in great extremity, began to make towards us, and when they came within hearing of us, we desired them "for the love of GOD! to help to save us, for that we were all like to perish!" They willed us "to hoist our foresail as much as we could, and make towards them; for they would do their best to save us;" and so we did.
And we had no sooner hoisted our foresail, but there came a gale of wind; and a piece of sea struck in the foresail, and carried away sail and mast all overboard: so that then we thought there was no hope of life. And then we began to embrace one another, every man his friend, every wife her husband, and the children their fathers and mothers; committing our souls to Almighty GOD, thinking never to escape alive. Yet it pleased GOD, in the time of most need, when all hope was past, to aid us with His helping hand, and caused the wind a little to cease; so that within two hours after, the other ship was able to come aboard us, and took into her, with her boat, man, woman and child, naked without hose, or shoes upon many of our feet.
I do remember that the last person that came out of the ship into the boat was a woman Black Moore [Indian]; who leaping out of the ship into the boat, with a young sucking child in her arms, leapt too short, and fell into the sea, and was a good while under the water before the boat could come to rescue her: and, with the spreading of her clothes rose above water again, and was caught by the coat and pulled into the boat, having still her child under her arm, both of them half drowned; and yet her natural love towards her child would not let her let the child go. And when she came aboard the boat, she held her child so fast under her arm still, that two men were scant able to get it out.
So we departed out of our ship, and left it in the sea. It was worth 400,000 ducats [= about £100,000 then = about £900,000 now], ship and goods, when we left it.
Within three days after, we arrived at our port of San Juan de Ulua, in New Spain.
I do remember that in the great and boisterous storm of this foul weather, in the night there came upon the top of our mainyard and mainmast, a certain little light, much like unto the light of a little candle, which the Spaniards called the corpos sancto, and said "It was Saint ELMO" [see Vol. III. p. 417], whom they take to be the advocate of sailors. At which sight, the Spaniards fell down upon their knees and worshipped it: praying GOD and Saint ELMO to cease the torment, and save them from the peril they were in; with promising him that, on their coming on land, they would repair unto his chapel, and there cause masses to be said, and other ceremonies to be done. The friars [did] cast relics into the sea, to cause the sea to be still, and likewise said Gospels, with other crossings and ceremonies upon the sea to make the storm to cease: which, as they said, did much good to weaken the fury of the storm. But I could not perceive it, nor gave any credit to it; till it pleased GOD to send us the remedy, and delivered us from the rage of the same. His name be praised therefore!
This light continued aboard our ship about three hours, flying from mast to mast, and from top to top; and sometimes it would be in two or three places at once. I informed myself of learned men afterward, what this light should be? and they said that "It was but a congelation of the wind and vapours of the sea congealed with the extremity of the weather, and so flying in the wind, many times doth chance to hit the masts and shrouds of the ship that are at sea in foul weather." And, in truth, I do take it to be so: for that I have seen the like in other ships at sea, and in sundry ships at once. By this, men may see how the Papists are given to believe and worship such vain things and toys as God; to whom all honour doth appertain: and in their need and necessities do let [cease] to call upon the living GOD, who is the giver of all good things.
The 16th of April in anno 1556, we arrived at the port of San Juan de Ulua in New Spain, very naked and distressed of apparel and all other things, by means of the loss of our foresaid ship and goods; and from thence we went to the new town called Vera Cruz, five leagues from the said port of San Juan de Ulua, marching still by the sea shore: where we found lying upon the sands a great quantity of mighty great trees, with roots and all, some of them four, five, or six cart load, by estimation; which, as the people told us, were, in the great stormy weather which we [en]dured at sea, rooted out of the ground in Terra Florida right against that place (which is 300 leagues over the sea), and brought thither.
So that we came to the said town of Vera Cruz; where we remained a month. There the said JOHN FIELD chanced to meet an old friend of his acquaintance in Spain, called GONZALO RUIZ DE CORDOVA, a very rich man of the said town of Vera Cruz; who (hearing of his coming thither, with his wife and family; and of his misfortune by sea) came unto him, and received him and all his household into his house, and kept us there a whole month, making us very good cheer; and giving us good entertainment, and also gave us, that were in all eight persons, of the said J. FIELD's house, double apparel, new out of the shop, of very good cloth, coats, cloaks, shirts, smocks, gowns for the women, hose, shoes, and all other necessary apparel; and for our way up to the city of Mexico, horses, moyles [mules], and men; and money in our purses for the expenses by the way, which by our account might amount unto the sum of 400 crowns [= £120 then = about £1,000 now].
After we were entered two days' journey into the country, I, the said ROBERT TOMSON, fell sick of an ague: so that the next day I was not able to sit on my horse; but was fain to be carried upon Indians' backs from thence to Mexico.
And when we came within half a day's journey of the city of Mexico, the said JOHN FIELD also fell sick; and within three days after we arrived at the said city, he died. And presently sickened one of his children, and two more of his household people; who within eight days died. So that within ten days after we arrived at the city of Mexico, of eight persons that were of us of the said company, there remained but four of us alive: and I, the said TOMSON, at the point of death, of the sickness that I got on the way, which continued with me for the space of six months [till October 1556]. At the end of which time, it pleased GOD to restore me my health again, though weak and greatly disabled.
* * * * *
Mexico was a city, in my time, of not above 1,500 households of Spaniards inhabiting there; but of Indian people in the suburbs of the said city, there dwelt about 300,000 as it was thought, and many more. This city of Mexico is sixty-five leagues from the North Sea [the Gulf of Mexico] and seventy-five leagues from the South Sea [the Pacific Ocean]; so that it standeth in the midst of the main land, betwixt the one sea and the other.
It is situated in the midst of a lake of standing water, and surrounded round about with the same; save, in many places, going out of the city, are many broad ways through the said lake or water. This lake and city are surrounded also with great mountains round about, which are in compass above thirty leagues; and the said city and lake of standing water doth stand in a great plain in the midst of it. This lake of standing water doth proceed from the shedding of the rain, that falleth upon the said mountains; and so gathers itself together in this place.
All the whole proportion of this city doth stand in a very plain ground; and in the midst of the said city is a square Place, of a good bow shot over from side to side. In the midst of the said Place is a high Church, very fair and well built all through, but at that time not half finished.
Round about the said Place, are many fair houses built. On the one side are the houses where MONTEZUMA, the great King of Mexico that was, dwelt; and now there lie always the Viceroys that the King of Spain sendeth thither every three years: and in my time there was for Viceroy a gentleman of Castille, called DON LUIS DE VELASCO.
And on the other side of the said Place, over against the same, is the Bishop's house, very fairly built; and many other houses of goodly building. And hard by the same are also other very fair houses, built by the Marquis DE LA VALLE, otherwise called HERNANDO CORTES; who was he that first conquered the said city and country. After the said conquest (which he made with great labour and travail of his person, and danger of his life), being grown great in the country; the King of Spain sent for him, saying that he had some particular matters to impart to him: and, when he came home, he could not be suffered to return back again, as the King before had promised him. With the sorrow for which, he died: and this he had for the reward of his good service.
The said city of Mexico hath streets made very broad and right [straight] that a man being in the highway at one end of the street, may see at the least a good mile forward: and in all the one part of the streets of the north part of their city, there runneth a pretty lake of very clear water, that every man may put into his house as much as he will, without the cost of anything but of the letting in.
Also there is a great ditch of water that cometh through the city, even into the high Place; where come, every morning, at break of the day, twenty or thirty canoes or troughs of the Indians; which bring in them all manner of provisions for the city that is made and groweth in the country: which is a very good commodity for the inhabitants of that place. And as for victuals in the said city, beef, mutton, hens, capons, quails, guinea cocks, and such like, are all very good cheap; as the whole quarter of an ox, as much as a slave can carry away from the butcher's, for five tomynes, that is, five rials of plate [i.e., of silver. See Vol. III. p. 184], which is just 2s. 6d. [= £1 5_s._ 0_d. now_]; and fat sheep at the butcher's, for three rials, which is 1s. 6d. [= 12_s._ 6_d. now_], and no more. Bread is as good cheap as in Spain; and all other kinds of fruits, as apples, pears, pomegranates, and quinces, at a reasonable rate.
The city goeth wonderfully forward in building of Friaries and Nunneries, and Chapels; and is like, in time to come, to be the most populous city in the world, as it may be supposed.
The weather is there always very temperate. The day differeth but one hour of length all the year long. The fields and woods are always green. The woods are full of popinjays, and many other kind of birds, that make such a harmony of singing and crying, that any man will rejoice to hear it. In the fields are such odoriferous smells of flowers and herbs, that it giveth great content to the senses.
In my time, were dwelling and alive in Mexico, many ancient men that were of the Conquerors, at the first conquest with HERNANDO CORTES: for, then, it was about thirty-six years ago, that the said country was conquered.
* * * * *
Being something strong, I procured to seek means to live, and to seek a way how to profit myself in the country seeing it had pleased GOD to send us thither in safety.
Then, by the friendship of one THOMAS BLAKE, a Scottish-man born, who had dwelt, and had been married in the said city above twenty years before I came to the said city [i.e., before 1536], I was preferred to the service of a gentleman, a Spaniard dwelling there, a man of great wealth, and of one of the first conquerors of the said city, whose name was GONZALO SEREZO: with whom I dwelt twelve months and a half [i.e., up to November 1557]; at the end of which, I was maliciously accused by the Holy House for matters of religion.
And because it shall be known wherefore it was, that I was so punished by the clergy's hand; I will in brief words, declare the same.
It is so, that, being in Mexico, at table, among many principal people at dinner, they began to inquire of me, being an Englishman, "Whether it were true that in England, they had overthrown all their Churches and Houses of Religion; and that all the images of the saints of heaven that were in them, were thrown down and broken, and burned, and [that they] in some places stoned highways with them; and [that they] denied their obedience to the Pope of Rome: as they had been certified out of Spain by their friends?"
To whom, I made answer, "That it was so. That, in deed, they had in England, put down all the religious houses of friars and monks that were in England; and the images that were in their churches and other places were taken away, and used there no more. For that, as they say, the making of them, and the putting of them where they were adored, was clean contrary to the express commandment of Almighty GOD, Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image &c.: and that, for that cause, they thought it not lawful that they should stand in the church, which is, the House of Adoration."
One that was at the declaring of these words, who was my master, GONZALO SEREZO, answered and said, "If it were against the commandment of GOD, to have images in the churches; that then he had spent a great deal of money in vain; for that, two years past [i.e., in 1555] he had made in the Monastery of Santo Domingo in the said city of Mexico, an image of Our Lady, of pure silver and gold, with pearls and precious stones, which cost him 7,000 and odd pesos" (and every peso is 6s. 8d. of our money) [= about £2,400, or about £24,000 now]: which indeed was true, for I have seen it many times myself where it stands.
At the table was another gentleman, who, presuming to defend the cause more than any one that was there, said, "That they knew well enough, that they were made but of stocks and stones, and that to them was no worship given; but that there was a certain veneration due unto them after they were set up in church: and that they were set there with a good intent. The one, for that they were Books for the Simple People, to make them understand the glory of the saints that were in heaven, and a shape of them; to put us in remembrance to call upon them to be our intercessors unto GOD for us: for that we are such miserable sinners that we are not worthy to appear before GOD; and that using devotion to saints in heaven, they may obtain at GOD's hands, the sooner, the thing that we demand of Him. As, for example," he said, "imagine that a subject hath offended his King upon the earth in any kind of respect; is it for the party to go boldly to the King in person, and to demand pardon for his offences? No," saith he, "the presumption were too great; and possibly he might be repulsed, and have a great rebuke for his labour. Better it is for such a person to seek some private man near the King in his Court, and to make him acquainted with this matter, and let him be a mediator to His Majesty for him and for the matter he had to do with him; and so might he the better come to his purpose, and obtain the thing which he doth demand. Even so," saith he, "it is with GOD and His saints in heaven. For we are wretched sinners; and not worthy to appear or present ourselves before the Majesty of GOD, to demand of Him the thing that we have need of: therefore thou hast need to be devout! and have devotion to the mother of God, and the saints in heaven, to be intercessors to GOD for thee! and so mayest thou the better obtain of GOD, the thing that thou dost demand!"
To this I answered, "Sir, as touching the comparison you made of the intercessors to the King, how necessary they were, I would but ask of you this question. Set the case, that this King you speak of, if he be so merciful as when he knoweth that one or any of his subjects hath offended him; he send for him to his own town, or to his own house or place, and say unto him, 'Come hither! I know that thou hast offended many laws! if thou dost know thereof, and dost repent thee of the same, with full intent to offend no more, I will forgive thee thy trespass, and remember it no more!'" Said I, "If this be done by the King's own person, what then hath this man need go and seek friendship at any of the King's private servants' hands; but go to the principal: seeing that he is readier to forgive thee, than thou art to demand forgiveness at his hands!"
"Even so is it, with our gracious GOD, who calleth and crieth out unto us throughout all the world, by the mouth of His prophets and apostles; and, by His own mouth, saith, 'Come unto me all ye that labour and are over laden, and I will refresh you!' besides a thousand other offers and proffers, which He doth make unto us in His Holy Scriptures. What then have we need of the saints' help that are in heaven, whereas the LORD Himself doth so freely offer Himself for us?"
At which sayings, many of the hearers were astonied, and said that, "By that reason, I would give to understand that the Invocation of Saints was to be disannulled, and by the laws of GOD not commanded."
I answered, "That they were not my words, but the words of GOD Himself. Look into the Scriptures yourself, and you shall so find it!"
The talk was perceived to be prejudicial to the Romish doctrine; and therefore it was commanded to be no more entreated of. And all remained unthought upon, had it not been for a villainous Portuguese that was in the company, who said, Basta ser Ingles para saber todo esto y mas, who, the next day, without imparting anything to anybody, went to the Bishop of MEXICO and his Provisor, and said, that "In a place where he had been the day before was an Englishman, who had said that there was no need of Saints in the Church, nor of any Invocation of Saints." Upon whose denomination [denouncement], I was apprehended for the same words here rehearsed, and none other thing; and thereupon was used as hereafter is written.
So, apprehended, I was carried to prison, where I lay a close prisoner seven months [till July 1558], without speaking to any creature, but to the gaoler that kept the said prison, when he brought me my meat and drink. In the meantime, was brought into the said prison, one AUGUSTINE BOACIO, an Italian of Genoa, also for matters of religion; who was taken at Zacatecas, eighty leagues to the north-westward of the city of Mexico.
At the end of the said seven months [i.e., in July 1558], we were both carried to the high Church of Mexico, to do an open penance upon a high scaffold made before the high altar, upon a Sunday, in the presence of a very great number of people; who were, at least, 5,000 or 6,000. For there were some that came one hundred miles off to see the said auto, as they call it; for that there was never any before, that had done the like in the said country: nor could tell what Lutherans were, nor what it meant; for they never heard of any such thing before.
We were brought into the Church, every one with a san benito upon his back; which is, half a yard of yellow cloth, with a hole to put in a man's head in the midst, and cast over a man's head: both flaps hang, one before, and another behind; and in the midst of every flap a Saint Andrew's cross, made of red cloth, and sewed in upon the same. And that is called San Benito.
The common people, before they saw the penitents come into the Church, were given to understand that we were heretics, infidels, and people that did despise GOD and His works, and that we had been more like devils than men; and thought we had had the favour [appearance] of some monsters or heathen people: and when they saw us come into the Church in our players' coats, the women and children began to cry out and made such a noise, that it was strange to hear and see; saying, that "They never saw goodlier men in all their lives; and that it was not possible that there could be in us so much evil as was reported of us; and that we were more like angels among men, than such persons of such evil religion as by the priests and friars, we were reported to be; and that it was a great pity that we should be so used for so small an offence."
So that we were brought into the said high Church, and set upon the scaffold which was made before the high altar, in the presence of all the people, until High Mass was done; and the Sermon made by a friar concerning our matter: putting us in all the disgrace they could, to cause the people not to take so much compassion upon us, for that "we were heretics, and people seduced of the Devil, and had forsaken the faith of the Catholic Church of Rome"; with divers other reproachful words, which were too long to recite in this place.
High Mass and Sermon being done; our offences (as they called them) were recited, each man what he had said and done: and presently was the sentence pronounced against us, that was that--
The said AUGUSTINE BOACIO was condemned to wear his San Benito all the days of his life, and put into perpetual prison, where he should fulfil the same; and all his goods confiscated and lost.
And I, the said TOMSON, to wear the San Benito for three years; and then to be set at liberty.
And for the accomplishing of this sentence or condemnation, we must be presently sent down from Mexico to Vera Cruz, and from thence to San Juan de Ulua, which was sixty-five leagues by land; and there to be shipped for Spain, with straight commandment that, upon pain of 1,000 ducats, every one of the Masters should look straightly unto us, and carry us to Spain, and deliver us unto the Inquisitors of the Holy House of Seville; that they should put us in the places, where we should fulfil our penances that the Archbishop of MEXICO had enjoined unto us, by his sentence there given.
For the performance of the which, we were sent down from Mexico to the seaside, with fetters upon our feet; and there delivered to the Masters of the ships to be carried for Spain, as is before said.
And it was so, that the Italian fearing that if he presented himself in Spain before the Inquisitors, that they would have burnt him; to prevent that danger, when we were coming homeward, and were arrived at the island of Terceira, one of the isles of Azores, the first night that we came to an anchor in the said port [i.e., of Angra], about midnight, he found the means to get him naked out of the ship into the sea, and swam naked ashore; and so presently got him to the further side of the island, where he found a little caravel ready to depart for Portugal. In the which he came to Lisbon; and passed into France, and so into England; where he ended his life in the city of London.
And I, for my part, kept still aboard the ship, and came into Spain; and was delivered to the Inquisitors of the Holy House of Seville, where they kept me in close prison till I had fulfilled the three years of my penance, [i.e., till about 1561].
Which time being expired, I was freely put out of prison, and set at liberty.
Being in the city of Seville, a cashier of one HUGH TYPTON, an English merchant of great doing, by the space of one year [i.e., till about 1562]; it fortuned that there came out of the city of Mexico, a Spaniard, JUAN DE LA BARRERA, that had been long time in the Indies, and had got great sums of gold and silver. He, with one only daughter, shipped himself for to come to Spain; and, by the way, chanced to die, and gave all that he had unto his only daughter, whose name was MARIA DE LA BARRERA.
She having arrived at the city of Seville, it was my chance to marry with her. The marriage was worth to me £2,500 [= £25,000 now] in bars of gold and silver, besides jewels of great price. This I thought good to speak of, to show the goodness of GOD to all them that trust in Him; that I, being brought out of the Indies in such great misery and infamy to the world, should be provided at GOD's hand, in one moment, of more than in all my life before, I could attain unto by my own labour.
After we departed from Mexico, our San Benitos were set up in the high Church of the said city, with our names written in the same, according to their use and custom; which is and will be a monument and a remembrance of us, as long as the Romish Church doth reign in that country. The same have been seen since, by one JOHN CHILTON; and divers others of our nation, which were left in that country, long since [i.e., in October 1568] by Sir JOHN HAWKINS.
Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals, Canzonets, &c.
We purpose giving in the present Volume, all the printed Songs to which music was set by JOHN DOWLAND, the Lutenist; of whom, probably, BARNFIELD wrote the following lines, which first appeared in the surreptitious Collection the Passionate Pilgrim, in 1599; but which are usually included in SHAKESPEARE's Works:
If Music and sweet Poetry agree; As they must needs, the sister and the brother: Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me! Because thou lov'st the one; and I, the other. DOWLAND to thee, is dear; whose heavenly touch Upon the lute doth ravish human sense: SPENSER, to me; whose deep conceit is such As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound That PHOEBUS's Lute, the Queen of Music, makes: And I, in deep delight, am chiefly drowned When as himself to singing he betakes. One god is god of both, as Poets feign: One knight loves both, and both in thee remain!
The other poems set to music by DOWLAND, will be found at pp. 519-534, 609-622, 644-656.
JOHN DOWLAND, Bachelor of Music.
THE FIRST BOOK OF SONGS OR AIRS. 1597.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR GEORGE CAREY,
OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, KNIGHT, BARON OF HUNSDON, CAPTAIN OF HER MAJESTY'S Gentlemen Pensioners, Governor of the Isle of Wight, Lieutenant of the County of Southampton, Lord Chamberlain of Her Majesty's most royal House; and of Her Highness's most honourable Privy Council.
That harmony, Right Honourable! which is skilfully expressed by instruments: albeit, by reason of the variety of number and proportion of itself, it easily stirs up the minds of the hearers to admiration and delight; yet for higher authority and power, hath been ever worthily attributed to that kind of music which to the sweetness of [the] instrument applies the lively voice of man, expressing some worthy sentence, or excellent poem. Hence, as all antiquity can witness, first grew the heavenly Art of Music: for LINUS, ORPHEUS, and the rest, according to the number and time of their Poems, first framed the numbers and times of Music. So that PLATO defines Melody to consist of Harmony, Number, and Words: Harmony, naked of itself; Words, the ornament of Harmony; Number, the common friend and writer of them both.
This small book containing the consent of speaking harmony, joined with the most musical instrument, the Lute, being my first labour, I have presumed to dedicate to your Lordship: who, for your virtue and nobility, are best able to protect it; and for your honourable favours towards me, best deserving my duty and service. Besides, your noble inclination and love to all good arts, and namely [particularly] the divine science of Music, doth challenge the Patronage of all Learning; than which no greater title can be added to Nobility.
Neither in these your honours, may I let pass the dutiful remembrance of your virtuous Lady, my honourable mistress, whose singular graces towards me have added spirit to my unfortunate labours.
What time and diligence I have bestowed in the Search of Music, what travels in foreign countries, what success and estimation, even among strangers, I have found, I leave to the report of others. Yet all this in vain, were it not that your honourable hands have vouchsafed to uphold my poor fortunes: which I now wholly recommend to your gracious protection, with these my first endeavours, humbly beseeching you to accept and cherish the same with your continued favours.
Your Lordship's most humble servant, +JOHN DOWLAND.+
To the Courteous Reader.
How hard an enterprise it is, in this skilful and curious Age, to commit our private labours to the public view, mine own disability and others' hard success do too well assure me: and were it not for that love [which] I bear to the true lovers of music, I had concealed these my first fruits; which how they will thrive with your taste I know not, howsoever the greater part of them might have been ripe enough by their age. The Courtly judgement, I hope will not be severe against them, being itself a party; and those sweet Springs of Humanity, I mean our two famous Universities, will entertain them for his sake whom they have already graced, and, as it were, enfranchised in the ingenuous profession of Music: which, from my childhood I have ever aimed at, sundry times leaving my native country, the better to attain so excellent a science.
About sixteen years past [i.e., in 1580], I travelled the chiefest parts of France, a nation furnished with great variety of Music; but lately, being of a more confirmed judgement, I bent my course towards the famous provinces of Germany, where I found both excellent Masters, and most honourable patrons of music, namely, those two miracles of this Age for virtue and magnificence, HENRY JULIO, Duke of Brunswick, and the learned MAURICE, Landgrave of Hesse; of whose princely virtues and favours towards me, I can never speak sufficiently. Neither can I forget the kindness of ALEXANDRO HOROLOGIO, a right learned master of music, servant to the royal Prince, the Landgrave of Hesse, and GREGORIO HOWET, Lutenist to the magnificent Duke of Brunswick; both [of] whom I name, as well for their love to me as also for their excellency in their faculties.
Thus having spent some months in Germany, to my great admiration of that worthy country; I passed over the Alps into Italy, where I found the Cities furnished with all good arts, but especially music. What favour and estimation I had in Venice, Padua, Genoa, Ferrara, Florence, and divers other places, I willingly suppress; lest I should, [in] any way, seem partial in mine own endeavours. Yet I cannot dissemble the great content I found in the proffered amity of the most famous LUCA MARENZIO, whose sundry letters I received from Rome; and one of them, because it is but short, I have thought good to set down, not thinking it any disgrace to be proud of the judgement of so excellent a man.
Molto magnifico Signior mio osservandissimo.
Per una lettera del Signior ALBERIGO MALVEZI ho inteso quanto con cortese affeto si mostri desideroso di essermi congionto d'amicitia, dove infinitamente la ringratio di questo suo buon'animo, offerendomegli all'incontro se in alcuna cosa la posso servire, poi che gli meriti delle sue infinite virtù, e qualità meritano che ogni uno e me l'ammirino e osservino, e per fine di questo le bascio le mani. Di Roma, a' 13. di Luglio. 1595.
D.V.S. Affettionatissimo servitore, +LUCA MARENZIO+.
Not to stand too long upon my travels: I will only name that worthy Master, GIOVANNI CROCHIO, Vice-master of the Chapel of Saint Mark's in Venice; with whom I had familiar conference.
And thus what experience I could gather abroad; I am now ready to practice at home, if I may but find encouragement in my first assays.
There have been divers Lute Lessons of mine lately printed without my knowledge, false and imperfect: but I purpose shortly myself to set forth the choicest of all my Lessons in print, and also an Introduction for Fingering; with other Books of Songs, whereof this is the first. And as this finds favour with you, so shall I be affected to labour in the rest. Farewell!
+JOHN DOWLAND.+
+THOMÆ CAMPIANI.+ Epigramma. De instituto authoris.
Famam, posteritas quam dedit ORPHEO. Dolandi melius MUSICA dat sibi, Fugaces reprimens archetypis sonos; Quas et delitias præbuit auribus, Ipsis conspicuas luminibus facit.
Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals, Canzonets, &c.
JOHN DOWLAND. THE FIRST BOOK OF SONGS OR AIRS
Unquiet thoughts! your civil slaughter stint! And wrap your wrongs within a pensive heart! And you, my tongue! that makes my mouth a mint, And stamps my thoughts, to coin them words by art, Be still! For if you ever do the like, I'll cut the string, that makes the hammer strike!
But what can stay my thoughts, they may not start? Or put my tongue in durance for to die? When as these eyes, the keys of mouth and heart Open the lock, where all my love doth lie. I'll seal them up within their lids for ever! So thoughts and words and looks shall die together.
How shall I then gaze on my mistress' eyes? My thoughts must have some vent, else heart will break. My tongue would rust, as in my mouth it lies; If eyes and thoughts were free, and that not speak. Speak then! and tell the passions of Desire! Which turns mine eyes to floods, my thoughts to fire.
* * * * *
Whoever thinks, or hopes of love for love? Or who beloved, in CUPID's laws doth glory? Who joys in vows, or vows not to remove: Who, by this light god, hath not been made sorry? Let him see me! eclipsed from my sun; With dark clouds of an earth, quite overrun.
Who thinks that sorrows felt, desires hidden, Or humble faith in constant honour armed, Can keep love from the fruit that is forbidden? Who thinks that change is by entreaty charmed? Looking on me; let him know Love's delights Are treasures hid in caves, but kept by sprites!
* * * * *
My Thoughts are winged with Hopes, my Hopes with Love. Mount Love unto the moon in clearest night! And say, "As she doth in the heavens move, In earth so wanes and waxeth my delight." And whisper this, but softly, in her ears! "Hope oft doth hang the head, and Trust shed tears."
And you, my Thoughts, that some mistrust do carry! If for mistrust, my mistress do you blame, Say, "Though you alter, yet you do not vary As she doth change; and yet remain the same: Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infect; And love is sweetest, seasoned with suspect."
If she for this, with clouds do mask her eyes, And make the heavens dark with her disdain; With windy sighs disperse them in the skies! Or with thy tears dissolve them into rain! Thoughts, Hopes, and Love return to me no more, Till CYNTHIA shine, as she hath done before!
* * * * *
If My complaints could passions move, Or make LOVE see wherein I suffer wrong; My passions were enough to prove That my despairs had governed me too long. O LOVE, I live and die in thee! Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me!
Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks, Yet thou dost hope when I despair! My heart for thy unkindness breaks! Thou say'st, "Thou can'st my harms repair." And when I hope: thou mak'st me hope in vain! Yet for redress, thou let'st me still complain!
Can LOVE be rich, and yet I want? Is LOVE my judge, and yet am I condemned? Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant! Thou made a god, and yet thy power contemned! That I do live, it is thy power! That I desire, it is thy worth!
If love doth make men's lives too sour, Let me not love, nor live henceforth! Die shall my hopes, but not my faith, That you, that of my fall may hearers be, May hear Despair, which truly saith, "I was more true to LOVE, than LOVE to me."
* * * * *
Can she excuse my wrongs with virtue's cloak? Shall I call her good, when she proves unkind? Are those clear fires, which vanish into smoke? Must I praise the leaves, where no fruit I find?
No! No! Where shadows do for bodies stand, Thou may'st be abused, if thy sight be dim. Cold love is like to words written on sand; Or to bubbles, which on the water swim.
Wilt thou be abused still, Seeing that she will right thee never? If thou can'st not o'ercome her will, Thy love will be thus fruitless ever!
Was I so base, that I might not aspire, Unto those high joys, which she holds from me? As they are high, so high is my desire, If she this deny, what can granted be?
If she will yield to that which reason is, It is Reason's will, that Love should be just. Dear! make me happy still, by granting this, Or cut off delays, if that die I must!
Better a thousand times to die, Than for to live thus still tormented: Dear! but remember it was I, Who, for thy sake, did die contented.
* * * * *
Now, O now, I needs must part, Parting, though I absent mourn; Absence can no joy impart, Joy once fled, cannot return. While I live, I needs must love, Love lives not, when hope is gone. Now at last despair doth prove Love divided, loveth none. Sad despair doth drive me hence, This despair, unkindness sends; If that parting be offence, It is she which then offends.
Dear! when I from thee am gone, Gone are all my joys at once. I loved thee, and thee alone! In whose love I joyed once: And although your sight I leave, Sight wherein my joys do lie; Till that death do sense bereave, Never shall affection die! Sad despair doth drive me hence, &c.
Dear! if I do not return, Love and I shall die together. For my absence never mourn! Whom you might have joyed ever. Part we must, though now I die, Die I do, to part with you: Him despair doth cause to lie Who both lived and dieth true. Sad despair doth drive me hence, &c.
* * * * *
Dear, if you change! I'll never choose again. Sweet, if you shrink! I'll never think of love. Fair, if you fail! I'll judge all beauty vain. Wise, if too weak! more wits I'll never prove. Dear! sweet! fair! wise! change, shrink, nor be not weak; And, on my faith! my faith shall never break.
Earth with her flowers shall sooner heaven adorn; Heaven her bright stars, through earth's dim globe shall move. Fire, heat shall lose; and frosts, of flames be born; Air made to shine, as black as hell shall prove: Earth, heaven, fire, air, the world transformed shall view, Ere I prove false to faith, or strange to you!
* * * * *
Burst forth my tears! Assist my forward grief! And show what pain, imperious love provokes! Kind tender lambs, lament love's scant relief, And pine, since pensive care my freedom yokes. O pine to see me pine, my tender flocks!
Sad pining Care, that never may have peace, At Beauty's gate, in hope of pity knocks; And Mercy sleeps while deep disdains increase; And Beauty, hope in her fair bosom yokes, O grieve to hear my grief, my tender flocks!
Like to the winds, my sighs have wingèd been, Yet are my sighs and suits repaid with mocks; I plead, yet she repineth at my teen. O ruthless rigour! harder than the rocks! That both the shepherd kills, and his poor flocks.
* * * * *
O Crystal tears! like to the morning showers. And sweetly weep into thy lady's breast! And as the dews revive the drooping flowers, So let your drops of pity be addresst! To quicken up the thoughts of my desert. Which sleeps too sound; whilst I from her depart.
Haste hapless sighs! and let your burning breath Dissolve the ice of her indurate heart! Whose frozen rigour, like forgetful Death, Feels never any touch of my desert. Yet sighs and tears to her, I sacrifice: Both, from a spotless heart, and patient eyes.
* * * * *
Think'st thou, then, by feigning Sleep, with a grand disdaining; Or, with thy crafty closing, Thy cruel eyes reposing; To drive me from thy sight! When sleep yields more delight, Such harmless beauty gracing: And while sleep feignèd is May not I steal a kiss Thy quiet arms embracing?
O that thy sleep dissembled, Were to a trance resembled! Thy cruel eyes deceiving, Of lively sense bereaving: Then should my love requite Thy love's unkind despite, While fury triumphed boldly In beauty's sweet disgrace; And lived in deep embrace Of her that loved so coldly,
Should then my love aspiring, Forbidden joys desiring, So far exceed the duty That Virtue owes to Beauty? No! Love seek not thy bliss Beyond a simple kiss! For such deceits are harmless Yet kiss a thousand fold; For kisses may be bold When lovely sleep is armless.
* * * * *
Come away! come, sweet love! The golden morning breaks; All the earth, all the air, Of love and pleasure speaks! Teach thine arms then to embrace, And sweet rosy lips to kiss, And mix our souls in mutual bliss! Eyes were made for beauty's grace Viewing, ruing, love's long pains; Procured by beauty's rude disdain.
Come away! come, sweet love! Do not in vain adorn Beauty's grace, that should rise Like to the naked morn! Lilies on the river's side, And fair Cyprian flowers newly blown, Desire no beauties but their own: Ornament is Nurse of Pride. Pleasure measure, love's delight, Haste then, sweet love, our wishèd flight!
* * * * *
Rest awhile, you cruel cares! Be not more severe than love! Beauty kills and beauty spares, And sweet smiles, sad sighs remove. LAURA, fair Queen of my delight! Come grant me love, in love's despite! And if I ever fail to honour thee, Let this heavenly light I see, Be as dark as hell to me!
If I speak! My words want weight. Am I mute! My heart doth break. If I sigh! She fears deceit. Sorrow then for me, must speak! Cruel! unkind! with favour view The wound that first was made by you! And if my torments feignèd be, Let this heavenly light I see, Be as dark as hell to me!
Never hour of pleasing rest, Shall revive my dying ghost, Till my soul hath repossesst The sweet hope, which love hath lost: Laura! redeem the soul that dies By fury of thy murdering eyes! And if it proves unkind to thee, Let this heavenly light I see, Be as dark as hell to me!
* * * * *
Sleep wayward thoughts, and rest you with my Love! Let not my Love, be with my love diseased! Touch not proud hands, lest you her anger move! But pine you with my longings long displeased: Thus while she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake, So sleeps my Love; and yet my love doth wake.
But O, the fury of my restless fear! The hidden anguish of my flesh desires! The glories and the beauties that appear Between her brows, near CUPID'S closèd fires! Thus while she sleeps, moves sighing for her sake, So sleeps my Love; and yet my love doth wake.
My love doth rage, and yet my Love doth rest; Fear in my love, and yet my Love secure; Peace in my Love, and yet my love opprest; Impatient, yet of perfect temperature. Sleep dainty Love, while I sigh for thy sake! So sleeps my Love; and yet my love doth wake.
* * * * *
All ye, whom love or fortune hath betrayed! All ye that dream of bliss, but live in grief! All ye whose hopes are evermore delayed! All ye whose sighs or sickness want relief! Lend ears and tears to me, most hapless man! That sings my sorrows like the dying swan!
Care that consumes the heart with inward pain, Pain that presents sad care in outward view; Both, tyrant-like, enforce me to complain, But still in vain, for none my plaints will rue: Tears, sighs, and ceaseless cries alone I spend. My woe wants comfort, and my sorrow, end.
* * * * *
Wilt thou, Unkind! thus 'reave me Of my heart, and so leave me? Farewell! But yet, or ere I part, O Cruel! Kiss me Sweet, my Jewel! Farewell!
Hope by disdain grows cheerless Fear doth love, love doth fear Beauty peerless. Farewell!
If no delays can move thee! Life shall die, death shall live Still to love thee. Farewell!
Yet be thou mindful ever! Heat from fire, fire from heat, None can sever. Farewell!
True love cannot be changed, Though delight from desert Be estranged. Farewell!
* * * * *
Would my conceit that first inforced my woe, Or else mine eyes, which still the same increase, Might be extinct, to end my sorrows so; Which now are such, as nothing can release. Whose life is death; whose sweet, each change of sour; And eke whose hell reneweth every hour.
Each hour, amidst the deep of hell I fry, Each hour, I waste and wither where I sit; But that sweet hour, wherein I wish to die, My hope, alas, may not enjoy it yet. Whose hope is such bereaved of the bliss, Which unto all, save me, allotted is.
To all, save me, is free to live or die; To all, save me, remaineth hap or hope. But all, perforce, I must abandon! Since Fortune still directs my hap aslope; Wherefore to neither hap nor hope I trust, But to my thrals I yield: for so I must.
* * * * *
Come again! Sweet love doth now invite Thy graces that refrain To do me due delight; To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, To die with thee again in sweetest sympathy!
Come again! that I may cease to mourn Through thy unkind disdain! For now, left and forlorn, I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die In deadly pain, and endless misery.
All the day, the sun that lends me shine By frowns doth cause me pine, And feeds me with delay. Her smiles, my springs, that make my joys to grow: Her frowns, the winters of my woe.
All the night, my sleeps are full of dreams, My eyes are full of streams; My heart takes no delight To see the fruits and joys that some do find, And mark the storms are me assigned.
Out, alas! my faith is ever true; Yet she will never rue, Nor yield me any grace. Her eyes, of fire; her heart of flint is made: Whom tears nor truth may once invade.
Gentle LOVE draw forth thy wounding dart! Thou can'st not pierce her heart! For I (that do approve By sighs and tears, more hot than are thy shafts) Did 'tempt, while she for triumph laughs.
* * * * *
(On the British Museum Copy, G9, there is the following pencil note to this Song. These words by [ROBERT DEVEREUX] the Earl of ESSEX, and sung before Queen ELIZABETH, in a Masque at Greenwich.)
His golden locks, Time hath to silver turned. O Time too swift! O swiftness never ceasing! His Youth, 'gainst Time and Age hath ever spurned, But spurned in vain, Youth waneth by increasing. Beauty, Strength, Youth are flowers but fading seen; Duty, Faith, Love are roots, and ever green.
His helmet, now, shall make a hive for bees, And lover's Sonnets turn to holy Psalms; A man-at-arms must, now, serve on his knees, And feed on prayers, which are Age's alms: But though from Court to cottage he depart, His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart.
And when he saddest sits, in homely cell, H'll teach his swains this Carol for a Song; Blest be the hearts that wish my Sovereign well! Curst be the soul that thinks her any wrong! Goddess! Allow this aged man his right! To be your Beadsman now; that was your Knight.
* * * * *
Awake, sweet love! Thou art returned! My heart, which long in absence mourned, Lives now in perfect joy. Only herself hath seemèd fair; She only could I love. She only drave me to despair, When she unkind did prove.
Let love which never, absent, dies; Now live for ever in her eyes! Whence came my first annoy: Despair did make me wish to die That I my joys might end, She only, which did make me fly, My state may now amend.
If she esteem thee now ought worth; She will not grieve thy love henceforth! Which so despair hath proved. Despair hath proved now in me That love will not unconstant be, Though long in vain I loved.
If she, at last, reward thy love And all thy harms repair! Thy happiness will sweeter prove, Raised up from deep despair. And if that now thou welcome be, When thou with her doth meet; She all this while, but played with thee, To make thy joys more sweet.
* * * * *
Come, heavy Sleep! the Image of true Death! And close up these my weary weeping eyes! Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath, And tears my heart with sorrow's sigh-swollen cries. Come, and possess my tired thoughts! worn soul! That living dies, till thou on me bestoule!
Come, Shadow of my End; and Shape of Rest! Allied to Death, Child to this black-fast Night! Come thou, and charm these rebels in my breast! Whose waking fancies doth my mind affright. O come, sweet Sleep! Come, or I die for ever! Come ere my last sleep comes, or come never!
* * * * *
Away with these self-loving lads, Whom CUPID's arrow never glads! Away poor souls that sigh and weep, In love of them that lie and sleep! For CUPID is a meadow god, And forceth none to kiss the rod.
God CUPID's shaft, like Destiny, Doth either good or ill decree; Desert is borne out of his bow, Reward upon his feet doth go. What fools are they, that have not known That LOVE likes no laws, but his own!
My songs, they be CYNTHIA's praise: I wear her rings on holidays. On every tree, I write her name, And every day I read the same: Where HONOUR, CUPID's rival is, There miracles are seen of his.
If CYNTHIA crave her ring of me, I'll blot her name out of the tree! If doubt do darken things held dear, Then "Well fare nothing!" once a year: For many run, but one must win. Fools only, hedge the cuckoo in!
The worth that worthiness should move Is love; which is the bow of LOVE: And love as well the For'ster can, As can the mighty Nobleman. Sweet saint, 'tis true, you worthy be! Yet, without love, nought worth to me!
+R[?ICHARD]. Y[?OUNG].+
The state of a Christian lively set forth, by an allegory of a Ship under Sail.
[This Writer was evidently a forerunner of JOHN BUNYAN.] Prov. xxxi. 14. Job ix. 26. Isaiah xxiii. 1. Rev. viii. 9.
[Original broadside, inserted in a distinct work of the Author, called The Victory of Patience. 1636.]
My body is the Hull, the Keel my back, my neck the Stem; the Sides are my ribs, the Beams my bones, my flesh the Planks; gristles and ligaments are the Pintels and Knee-timbers; arteries, veins, and sinews, the several Seams of the ship; my blood is the Ballast, my heart the Principal Hold, my stomach the Cook-room, my liver the Cistern, my bowels the Sink; my lungs the Bellows, my teeth the Chopping-knives; except you divide them, and then they are the 32 Points of the Compass, both agreeing in number. Concoction is the Cauldron, and hunger the Salt or Sauce. My belly is the Lower Deck, my kidneys Close Cabins or receptacles, my thighs are Long Galleries for the grace of the ship; my arms and hands the Canhooks, my midriff is a large partition or Bulkhead. Within the circumference of my head is placed the Steeridge Room and Chief Cabins, with the Round-house [now called the Captain's Cabin] where the Master lieth: and these for the more safety and decency are enclosed in a double fence; the one Dura mater, something hard and thick [the skull], the other Pia mater, very thin and soft [the hair], which serveth instead of hangings. The ears are two doors or Scuttles fitly placed for entertainment; the two eyes are Casements to let in light; under them, is my mouth, the Stowage or Steward's Room. My lips are Hatches for receipt of goods, my two nostrils serve as Gratings to let in air. At the one end stands my chin, which is the Beakhead. My forehead is the Upper Deck; all which being trimmed with my fat instead of Pitch, and hair instead of Oakum, are coloured with my skin.
The Fore Deck is humility, the Stern, charity. Active obedience, the Sails; which being hoisted up with the several Yards, Halliards, and Bowlines of holy precepts and good purposes; are let down again by fickleness, faintings and inconstancy. Reason is my Rudder, experience the Helm, hope of salvation my Anchor, passive obedience the Capstan, holy revenge the Cat and Fish to haul the Sheet Anchor or last hope. Fear of offending is the Buoy, virtues are the Cables, holy desires and sudden ejaculations the Shrouds. The zeal of GOD's glory is my Mainmast, premeditation the Foremast, desire of my own salvation the Mizenmast, saving knowledge the Bowsprit, circumspection a Sounding line.
My Light is illumination; justice is the Card [Map]; GOD's Word, the Compass; the meditation of life's brevity, a Four-Hour Glass [i.e., the length of a ship's watch]; contemplation of the creatures, the Cross-staff or Jacob's-staff; the creed, a Sea-Grammar; the life of CHRIST, my Load-Star. The saint's falls are Sea-marks; good examples, Land-marks. Repentance pumps out the sink of my sins, a good conscience keeps me clean. Imputative righteousness is my Flag, having this motto, Being cast down, we perish not! the Flag-staff is sincerity.
The ship is victualled afresh by reading, hearing, receiving. Books are Long-boats, letters are little Skiffs to carry and recarry my spiritual merchandise. Perseverance is my Speed, and patience my Name. My Fire is lust, which will not be clean extinguished: full feeding and strong drink are the Fuel to maintain it; whose Flame, if it be not suppressed, is jealousy; whose Sparks are evil words, whose Ashes are envy; whose Smoke is infamy. Lascivious talk is a Flint and Steel, concupiscence as Tinder, opportunity the Match to light it, sloth and idleness are the Servants to prepare it.
The LAW OF GOD is my Pilot, FAITH my Captain, FORTITUDE the Master, CHASTITY the Master's Mate, my WILL the Coxswain, CONSCIENCE the Preacher [or, as we now say, Chaplain], APPLICATION OF CHRIST'S DEATH the Surgeon, MORTIFICATION the Cook, VIVIFICATION the Caulker, SELF-DENIAL an Apprentice of his, TEMPERANCE the Steward, CONTENTATION his Mate, TRUTH the Purser, THANKFULNESS the Purser's Mate, REFORMATION the Boatswain, the Four HUMOURS, SANGUINE, CHOLER, &c., are the Quarter-masters; CHRISTIAN VIGILANCY undertakes to supply the office of the Starboard and Larboard Watches, MEMORY is the Clerk of the Cheque, ASSURANCE the Corporal, the Armour INNOCENCY, the Mariners, ANGELS.
Schismatics are Searchers sent abroad. My UNDERSTANDING, as Master Gunner, culls out from those two Budge-casks of the Old and New Testaments certain threats and promises which are my only Powder and Shot; and with the assistance of the Gunner's Mate, HOLY ANGER AGAINST SIN, chargeth my tongue, which, like to a piece of ordnance, shoots them to the shame and overthrow of my spiritual Adversaries.
My noble passengers are JOY IN THE HOLY GHOST and PEACE OF CONSCIENCE, whose retinue are DIVINE GRACES. My ignoble or rather mutinous passengers are WORLDLY COGITATIONS and VAIN DELIGHTS which are more than a good many; besides some that are arrant thieves and traitors, namely, PRIDE, ENVY, PREJUDICE: but all these I will bid farewell to, when I come to my journey's end; though I would, but cannot, before.
Heaven is my Country, where I am Registered in the Book of Life, my King is JEHOVAH. My Tribute alms-deeds: they which gather it are the poor. Love is my country's Badge, my Language is holy conference, my Fellow Companions are the saints.
I am poor in performances, yet rich in GOD's acceptation. The Foundation of all my good is GOD's free election. I became Bound into the Corporation of the Church to serve Him, in my baptism. I was Enrolled at the time when He first called me. My Freedom is justification. It was Purchased with the blood of CHRIST. My Evidence is the earnest of His spirit. My Privileges are His sanctifying graces. My Crown, reserved for me on high, is glorification.
My Maker and Owner is GOD; who built me by His Word, which is CHRIST; of earth, which was the Material; He freighted it with the essence of my Soul, which is the Treasure; and hath set me to sail in the Sea of this world, till I attain to the Port of death: which letteth the terrestrial part into the Harbour of the grave, and the celestial part into the Kingdom of Heaven. In which voyage, conveniency of estate [comfortable circumstances] is as sea room; good affections serve as a tide; and prayer as a prosperous gale, a wind to help forward.
But innumerable are the impediments and perils. For here I meet with the profers of unlawful gain and sensual delights, as so many SIRENS; the baits of prosperity, as High Banks, on the right hand or Weather Shore; and there with evil suggestions and crabbed adversity, as Rocks, on the left hand or Lee Shore, ready to split me. The fear of hell, like Quicksands, threatens to swallow me; original sin like Weeds clog me, and actual transgressions like so many Barnacles hang about me. Yea, every sin I commit springs a new Leak. My senses are as so many Storms of Rain, Hail, and Snow to sink me. Lewd affections are Roaring Billows and Waves. Self-confidence, or to rely upon anything but the Divine assistance, is to lose the Bowsprit. Restitution is heaving goods overboard to save the ship. Melancholy is want of Fresh Water. The scoffs of atheists, and contempt of religion in all places is a notable becalming; the lewd lives and evil examples of them most a contagious air. Idleness furrs it, and is a shrewd decay, both of the Hull and Tackling.
* * * * *
Moreover, sailing along, and keeping Watch (for they that be CHRIST's friends, you know! must look for all they meet to be their enemies), we no sooner look up, but presently we ken a Man of War, and then we must be for war too, and provide for a skirmish.
Now the Galleon that hath our Pinnace in chase, and always watcheth for advantages to surprise it, is the Piracy of Hell; the Synagogue of SATAN. Her Freight is temptations and persecutions, with all the engines of mischief. In which the DEVIL is Master, MALICE the Master's Mate, CRUELTY the Captain, MURDER the Cook, FLATTERY the Caulker, PROFANENESS a Quartermaster, RIOT the Steward, NEVER CONTENT his Mate, PRIDE the Coxswain, SUPERSTITION the Preacher, HYPOCRISY the Boatswain, COVETOUSNESS the Purser, LUST the Swabber, FURY the Gunner, PRESUMPTION the Corporal, SEDITION the Trumpeter, DRUNKENNESS the Drummer.
Vices are the Sails, custom the Mainmast, example of the multitude the Foremast, lusts and passions the Cables, blindness of mind the Rudder, hardness of heart the Helm, the wisdom of the flesh the Card, the mystery of iniquity the Compass. The five senses, or if you will, scoffing Atheists, profane foul-mouthed drunkards, and all the rabble of hell are the Mariners. Lewd affections the Passengers, LITTLE CONSCIENCE the Load star.
She hath two tire of great ordnance planted in her, Heresy and Irreligion; being either for a false god, or none. Oaths, blasphemy, and curses are the Powder and Shot: which they spit against all that worship the LAMB, or fight under the Ensign of Faith. Her Armour is carnal security. The Flag in her Top is infidelity: the motto, There is no god, but gain!
Her Ballast, which keeps her upright, is Ignorance. Most of her Tackling she has from Rome, or Amsterdam. ANTICHRIST, as Pilot, steers her in such a course that she goes on swiftly, proudly, securely, scorning and scoffing (SENNACHERIB like) to hear that any Lord should deliver this poor Pinnace out of her hands.
Yet in the sequel, this silly Pink, having the Insurance of GOD's omnipresence, finds not only succour from the Stock of the Church's prayers, which, like another Merchantman, come in to the rescue: but, likewise that GOD's Almighty power and providence is near at hand, as a strong Castle of Defence to free her, whereby she escapes, even as a bird out of the snare of the hunter, to praise the LORD: who hath not given her as a prey unto their teeth, that would have swallowed up all quick; but delivered her from such swelling waters, floods of affliction and streams of persecution, as else had gone over her and even drowned her soul, as it is Psalm cxxiv. While this great Galleon (though it seems like that Invincible Armada) flies; and, having no Anchor, when the storms of GOD's wrath arise, down she sinks to desperation; and perisheth in the bottomless pit or burning lake of fire and brimstone: where we will leave her to receive a just recompense of reward.
R. Y.
London. Printed by THOMAS COTES for the Author; and are to be sold by Sarah Fairbeard, at the North Door of the Royal Exchange, 1636.
[? +THOMAS OCCLEVE+,
Clerk in the Office of the Privy Seal.] The Letter of CUPID.
[Old forms like servin, serve; wollin, will; tellin, tell; doin, done; and the Imperatives bethe, be; telleth, tell; occur in this Poem.]
[Urry's edition of CHAUCER's Works. ii. 534. Ed. 1721.]
Cupido, (unto whose commandèment The gentle kindred of goddis on high And people infernal be obedient; And all mortal folk servin busily), Of the goddess son, CYTHEREA only; Unto all those that, to our deity Be subjects, heartily greeting, send we!
In general, we wollin that ye know That Ladies of honour and reverence, And other Gentlewomen havin sow[n] Such seed of complaint in our audience, Of men that do them outrage and offence; That it our earis grieveth for to hear, So piteous is the effect of this matere.
Passing all landis, on the little isle That clepèd is Albion, they most complain, They say that there, is crop and root of guile: So can those men dissimulin and feign, With standing dropis in their eyin twain; When that their heartis feeleth no distress, To blindin women with their doubleness.
Their wordis, spoken be so sighingly, With so piteous a cheer and countenance That every wight that meaneth truly Deemeth they in heart havin such grievance. They say, "So importable is their penance, That but their lady lust to shew them grace They, right anon, must starvin in the place."
"Ah, Lady mine!" they say, "I you ensure As doth me grace! and I shall ever be, While that my life may lasting and endure To you as humble and low in each degree As possible is, and keep all things in secre[t] Right as your selfin listeth that I do! And ellis mine heartè must burst in two."
Full hard it is, to know a manis heart For outward may no man the truthè deem. When word out of the mouth, may none astert But it, by reason seemed a wight to queme, So it is said of heart, as it would seem. O faithful woman! full of innocence! Thou art deceivèd by false appearance!
By process moveth oft woman's pity. Weening all things were as these men ysay, They grant them grace, of their benignity, For that men shouldin not, for their sake die, And with good heart, settin them in the way Of blissful love: keepin it, if they con! And thus, otherwhile, women bethe ywon.
And when this man, the pan hath by the steel And fully is in his possession; With that woman keepeth he no more to deal After, if he may findin in the town Any woman, his blind affection Unto bestow. But evil mote he preve! A man, for all his oaths, is hard to believe!
And for that every false Man hath a Make, (As unto every wight is light to know) When this traitor, this woman hath forsake, He fast speedeth him unto his fellow. Till he be there, his heart is on a low; His false deceit ne may him not suffice, But of his treason telleth all the wise.
Is this a fair avaunt? Is this honour? A man himself accuse thus and defame! Is it good to confess himself a traitor? And bring a woman into slanderous name And tell how he her body hath do shame? No worship may he thus, to him conquer, But great dislander unto him and her!
To her! Nay! Yet ywas it no reprefe; For all for virtue was, that she ywrought! But he that brewèd hath all this mischief, That spake so fair, and falsely inward thought; His, be the slander! as it by reason ought And unto Her be thank perpetual That, in such a need, helpin can so well.
Although through manis sleight and subtilty, A silly simple and innocent woman Betrayed is: no wonder! since the city Of Troyè, as the story tellin can, Betrayèd was, through the deceit of man, And set on fire, and all down overthrown; And finally destroyèd, as men knowèn.
Betrayin not men, cities great and kings? What wight is it that can shape remedy Against these falsely proposèd things? When can the craft, such crafts to espy But man? whose wit is e'er ready to apply To thing that sowning is into falshede? Woman! bethe 'ware of false men! I thee rede!
And, furthermore, have these men in usage That where they not likely been to sped Such as they been, with a double visage, They procurin, for to pursue their need He prayeth him, in his cause to proceed. And largely guerdoneth she his travail. Little wot women, how men them assail!
Another wretch, unto his fellow saith, "Thou fishest fair! She which that thee hath fired Is false, inconstant, and she hath no faith. She for the road, of folk is so desired; And, as an horse, from day to day she is hired! That when thou twinnest from her company, Cometh another; and bleared is thine eye!
Now prick on fast! and ridin thy journey While thou art there! For she, behind thy back, So liberal is, she will nothing withsay, But smartly of another take a smack. And thus farin these women all the pack Whoso them trusteth, hanged mote he be! Ever they desire change and novelty."
Wherefore proceedeth this, but of envy? For that he himself, her ne winnin may, He speaketh her reprefe and villainy; As manis blabbing tongue is wont alway. Thus divers men full often make assay, For to disturbin folk in sundry wise, For they may not eschuin their emprise.
Many one eke would speakin for no good, That hath in love his timè spent and used. Men wist, his Lady his asking withstood; Ere that he were of her, plainly refused. Or waste and vain all that he had ymused: Wherefore he can none other remedy, But on his Lady, shapeth him to lie.
"Every woman," he saith, "is light to get, Can none say, 'Nay!' if she be well ysought; Whoso may leisure have with her to treat Of his purpose, ne shall be failin ought But he on madness be so deep ybrought That he shende all with open homeliness That loven women. They doting! as I guess."
To slaunder women thus, what may profit To gentleness? namely, that them arm should In defence of women, and them delight As that the Order of Gentleness would? If that a man list gentle to be held He must all eschew that thereto is contrary. A slanderous tongue is his great enemy!
A foul vice it is, of tongue to be light. For whoso mochil clappeth, gabbeth oft. The Tongue of Man so swift is, and so wight That when it is yraisèd up on loft, Reason is shewed so slowly and soft, That it him never overtakin may. Lord! so these men been trusty in assay!
Albeit that men find one woman nice, Inconstant, recheless, and variable, Deignous and proud, full fillèd of malice, Without faith or love, and deceivable, Sly, quaint, false, in all untrust culpable, Wicked or fierce, or full of cruelty: Yet followeth not that such, all women be!
When the high GOD, angellis formèd had: Amongis them all formed, were there none That foundin were malicious and bad? Yet all men wotin, there were many one That for their pride fell from heaven anon. Should we, forthy, give all angels proud name? Nay, he that that sustaineth, is to blame!
Of twelve Apostles, one a traitor was; The remenant yet good werin and true. So if it happen men findin, percase, A woman false; such, good is to eschew: And deem not all that they therefore be untrue. I see well, that menis own falseness Them causeth, woman for to trust the less.
O, every man ought have a heart tender To a woman, and deem her honourable; Whether her shape be thick, or else slender, Or she be good or bad! It is no fable. Every wight wot, that wit hath reasonable, That of a woman, he descendèd is: Then is it shame of her to speak amiss!
A wicked tree, good fruit may none forth bring; For such the fruit, is aye as is the tree. Take heed of whom thou take thy beginning! Let thy mother be mirror unto thee! Honour her, if thou wilt honoured be! Despiseth her then not, in no manere! Lest that thereby thy wickedness appear.
An old proverb there said is, in English, That bird or fowl, soothly, is dishonest What that he be, and holdin full churlish That useth to defoulin his own nest. Men to say well of women, it is the best: And naught to despisin them, ne deprave; If that they will their honour keep or save.
The Ladies ever complain them on Clerks That they have made bookis of their defame; In which they despise women and their works, And speakin of them great reproof and shame: And causèless give them a wicked name. Thus they despisèd be, on every side, Dislanderèd and blown upon full wide.
Those sorry books make mention How women betrayed in especial ADAM, DAVID, SAMPSON, and SOLOMON, And many one more; who may rehearse them all, The treasons that they havin done, and shall? The world their malice may not comprehend (As Clerkis feign), for it ne hath none end.
OVID, in his book callèd Remedy Of Love, great reproof of woman ywriteth, Wherein, I know that he did great folly; And every wight who, in such case, him delighteth. A Clerkis custom is, when he enditeth Of women (be it prose, or rhyme, or verse) Say, "They be wicked!" all know he the reverse.
And the book Scholars learned in their childhead For they of women beware should in age, And to lovin them, ever be in dread. Sith to deceive, is all their courage, They say, of peril, men should cast the advantage, Namely, of such as men havin bewrapped: For many a man, by woman hath mishapped.
No charge is what so these Clerkis ysain Of all their writing, I ne do ne cure All their labour and travail is in vain For between me and my Lady Nature Shall not be suffred, while the world may 'dure. Thus these Clerkis, by their cruel tyranny, On silly women, kithin their mastery.
Whilom, for many of them were in my chain Ytied; and now, for unwieldy age And unlust, they may not to love attain: And sain, now, that "Love is but very dotage!" Thus, for they themselfin lackin courage, They folk excitin by their wicked saws For to rebell against Me, and my laws!
But, maugre them that blamin women most, Such is the force of mine impression That, suddenly, I can fell all their boast, And all their wrong imagination. It shall not be in their election, The foulest slut in all the town to refuse; If that me lust, for all that they can muse:
But her in heart, as brenningly desire As though she were a Duchess, or a Queen; So can I folkis heartis set on fire And, as me list, sendin them joy or teen. They that to women ben ywhet so keen, My sharpè piercing strokis! how they smite! Shall feel and knowin, how they kerve and bite!
Pardie! this Clerk, this subtle sly OVID, And many another deceivèd have be Of women, as it is knowin full wide. What! no men more! and that is great dainty So excellent a Clerk as was he! And other more, that couldin full well preach Betrapped were, for aught that they could teach!
And trusteth well, that it is no marvail! For women knowin plainly their intent. They wist how softily they could assail Them; and what falsehood they, in heartè meant: And thus they Clerkis, in their danger hent, With one venom, another is destroyed! And thus these Clerkis often were annoyed.
These Ladies, ne these gentles ne'ertheless, Where none of those that wroughtin in this wise; But such women as werin vertueless They quiltin thus, these old Clerkis wise. To Clerkis muchil less ought to suffice Than to dispravin women generally; For worship shallin they none get thereby.
If that these men, that lovers them pretend, To women werin faithful, good, and true, And dread them to deceive, or to offend; Women, to love them wouldin not eschew. But, every day, hath man an heart new! It, upon one abidin can, no while. What force is it, such a wight to beguile?
Men bearing, eke, the women upon hand That lightly, and withoutin any pain They women be; they can no wight withstand That his disease list to them to complain! They be so frail, they may them not refrain! But whoso liketh them, may lightly have; So be their heartis easy in to grave.
To Master JEAN DE MEUN, as I suppose, Then, it was a lewd occupation, In making of the Romance of the Rose, So many a sly imagination, And perils for to rollin up and down, The long process, so many a slight cautel For to deceive a silly damosel!
Nought can I say, ne my wit comprehend, That art, and pain, and subtilty should fail For to conquer, and soon to make an end; When men, a feeble place shullin assail: And soon, also, to vanquish a battle Of which no wight may makin resistance; Ne heart hath none, to make any defence.
Then mote it follow, of necessity, Sith art asketh so great engine and pain A woman to deceive, what so she be? Of constancy be they not so barren As that some of these silly Clerkis feign; But they be, as women oughtin to be, Sad, constant, and full fillèd of pity.
How friendly was MEDEA to JASON In his Conquering of the Fleece of Gold! How falsely quit he, her true affection, By whom victory he gate as he would! How may this man, for shame, be so bold To falsin her, that, from his death and shame Him kept, and gate him so great a prize and name?
Of Troy also, the traitor ÆNEAS, The faithless wretch! how he himself forswore To DIDO, which that Queen of Carthage was That him relievèd of his smartis sore! What gentleness might she have doin more Than she, with heart unfeigned, to him kidde? And what mischief to her thereof betid!
In my Legend of Natures may men find (Whoso yliketh therein for to read) That oathis ne behest may man not bind Of reprovable shame have they no dread In manis heart truth ne hath no stead. The soil is naught; there may no troth ygrow. To women, namely, it is not unknow[n].
Clerkis feign also there is no malice Like unto woman's wicked crabbedness. O Woman! how shalt thou thyself chevice; Sith men of thee, so mochil harm witness? Beth ware! O Woman! of their fickleness. Kepeth thine ownè! what men clap or crake! And some of them shall smart, I undertake!
Malice of women! What is it to dread? They slay no man, destroyin no cities, Ne oppress people, ne them overlaid, Betray Empires, Realms, or Duchies, Nor bereaven men their landis, ne their mees, Empoison folk, ne houses set on fire, Ne false contractis makin for no hire.
Trust, Perfect Love, and Entire Charity, Fervent Will, and Entalented Courage, All thewis good, as sitteth well to be, Have women, ere, of custom and usage. And well they canin manis ire asuage, With soft wordis, discreet and benign. What they be inward, they show outward by sign!
Womanis heart unto no cruelty Inclined is; but they be Charitable, Piteous, Devout, Full of Humility, Shamefast, Debonaire, and Amiable, Dread full, and of wordis measurable: What women, these have not, peradventure; Followeth not the way of their nature.
Men sayin that our First Mother na'theless Made all mankind lesin his liberty, And nakid it of joyè, doubtless, For GOD is hest disobeyèd she, When she presumed to taste of the tree, That GOD forbade, that she eat thereof should. And ne had the Devil be, no more she would!
The envious swelling, that the Fiend our foe Had unto man in heart, for his wealth, Sent a serpent, and made her for to go To deceive EVE; and thus was manis wealth Bereft him by the Fiend, in a stealth, The woman not knowing of the deceipt, God wot! Full far was it from her conceipt!
Wherefore I say, that this good woman EVE Our father ADAM, ne deceived nought. There may no man for a deceipt it prove Properly, but that she, in heart and thought, Had it compassed[1] first, ere she it wrought. And for such was not her Impression, Men may it call no Deceipt, by reason.
Ne no wight disceiveth, but he purpose! The Fiend this deceipt cast, and nothing She. Then it is wrong to deemin or suppose That of his harm She should the causè be. Wytith the Fiend, and his be the maugre! And all excusèd have her innocence, Save only, that she brake obedience!
And touching this, full fewè men there be, Unnethis any, dare I safely say! From day to day, as men may all day see, But that the hest of GOD they disobey. Have this in mindè, siris! I you pray. If that ye be discreet and reasonable; Ye will her hold the more excusable!
And where men say, "In man is stedfastness; And woman is of her courage unstable." Who may of ADAM bear such a witness? Tellith me this! Was he not changeable? They both werin in one case semblable. Save that willing, the Fiend deceived EVE; And so did she not ADAM, by your leave!
Yet was this sinnè happy to mankind, The Fiend disceived was, for all his sleight; For aught he could him in his sleightis wind. For his trespass, came from heaven on height GOD, to discharge man of his heavy weight He, flesh and blood ytook of a Virgine, And suffered death, him to deliver of pine.
And GOD, to whom there may nothing hid be, If he, in woman knowen had such malice, As men record of them in generalty; Of our Lady, of Life Reparatrice He n'old have be born: but that she of vice Was void, and full of virtue, well He wist, Endowid! of her, to be born Him list.
Her heapèd virtue hath such excellence That all too lean is manis faculty To declare it; and therefore in suspense Her due praising put, needis must ybe. But this I sayin, Verily, that she Next GOD, best friend is, that to Man 'longeth. The Key of Mercy by her girdle hangeth!
And of mercy, hath every man such need, That razing that, farewel the joy of man! And of her power, now takith right good heed! She, mercy may well, and purchasin can. Depleasith her not! Honoureth that woman! And other women, honour for her sake! And but ye do, your sorrow shall awake!
In any book also, where can ye find That of the workis of death or of life, Of JESU spelleth or maketh any mind That women, Him forsoke, for woe or strife? Where was there any wight so ententife Aboutin Him as woman? Provid none! The Apostles him forsokin everichone.
Woman forsoke Him not! For all the faith Of holy church in woman left only! These are no lies, for thus Holy Writ saith, Look! and ye shall so find it hardily! And therefore I may well provin thereby That in woman reigneth stable constancy; And in men is change of variancy.
Thou Precious Gem! Of martyrs, Magarite! That of thy blood, dreadest none effusion! Thou Lover true! Thou Maiden mansuete! Thou, constant Woman! in thy passion Overcame the Fiendis temptation! And many a wight, convertid thy doctrine, Unto the faith of holy GOD, thou Virgin!
But, understandeth this! I commend her nought, By encheson of her virginity. Trusteth, it came never into thought! For ever were I against Chastity. And ever shall. But, lo, this moveth me! Her loving heart; and, constant to her lay, Drive out of my remembrance I ne may.
Now holdith this for firm, and for no lie! That this true and just commendation Of women, tell I for no flattery; Nor because of pride or elation: But only, too, for this intention To give them courage of perseverance In virtue; and their honour to advance.
The more the virtue, the less is the pride. Virtue so digne is, and so noble in kind, That Vice and he will not in fere abide. He putteth vices clean out of his mind, He flyeth from them, he leaveth them behind. O, Woman! that of Virtue, art hostess; Great is thy honour, and thy worthiness!
Then will I thus concludin and define. We, you command! our ministers each one That ready ye be, our hests to incline! That of these falsè men, our rebell foen Ye doin punishment! and that, anon! Void them our Court! and banish them for ever! So that therein more comin, may they never!
Fulfilled be it! Ceasing all delay, Look that there be none excusation! Written in the lusty month of May, In our Palace, where many a million Of lovers true, have habitation; In the year of grace, joyful and jocond, A thousand, four hundred and second.
Thus endeth The letter of CUPID.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Embraced.
+EDWARD UNDERHILL+, Esq. of the Band of Gentlemen Pensioners, surnamed, "The hot Gospeller."
Examination and Imprisonment in August 1553; with anecdotes of the Time.
[Harl. MS. 425.] [Narratives of the Days of the Reformation. Camden Society. 1859.]
A Note of the Examination and Imprisonment of EDWARD UNDERHILL (son and heir of THOMAS UNDERHILL of Honingham, in the county of Warwick, Esquire) being of the Band of the Pensioners [see pp. 93-94], for a ballet that he made against the Papists, immediately after the Proclamation of Queen MARY at London; she being in Norfolk.
The next day [4th] after the Queen was come to the Tower [on the 3rd of August, 1553]; the foresaid ballet [ballad] came into the hands of Secretary [Sir JOHN] BOURNE; who straightways made inquiry for me, the said EDWARD, who dwelt at Limehurst [Limehouse]; which he having intelligence of, sent the Sheriff of Middlesex, with a company of bills and glaives [lances, with a cutting blade at the end of each]; who came unto my house, I being in my bed, and my wife being newly laid in childbed.
The High Constable, whose name was THOMAS IVE, dwelt at the next house unto me, the said EDWARD; whom the Sheriff brought also with him. He, being my very friend, desired the Sheriff and his company to stay without, for [fear of af]frighting of my wife, being newly laid; and he would go and fetch me unto him. Who knocked at the door, saying, "He must speak with me."
I, lying so near that I might hear him, called unto him, willing him "to come unto me!" for that he was always my very friend, and earnest in the Gospel. Who declared unto me that the Sheriff, with a great company with him, was sent for me.
Whereupon I rose, made me ready, and came unto him, demanding, "What he would with me?"
"Sir," said he, "I have commandment from the Council to apprehend you, and forthwith to bring you unto them."
"Why," said I, "it is now ten o'clock in the night; ye cannot, now, carry me unto them!"
"No, Sir," said he, "you shall go with me to my house to London, where you shall have a bed: and to-morrow, I will bring you unto them at the Tower."
"In the name of GOD! [=most certainly]," said I: and so went with him, requiring [inquiring of] him, "If I might understand the cause."
He said, "He knew none."
"This needed not, then," said I; "any one messenger might have fetched me unto them": suspecting the cause to be, as it was indeed, the ballet.
On the morrow [5th of August, 1553], the Sheriff, seeing me nothing dismayed, thinking it to be some light matter, went not with me himself: but sent me unto the Tower with two of his men, waiting upon me with two bills [men with halberts], prisoner-like, who brought me unto the Council Chamber; being commanded to deliver me unto Secretary BOURNE.
Thus standing waiting at the Council Chamber door, two or three of my fellows, the Pensioners, and my cousin-german GILBERT WYNTER, Gentleman Usher unto the Lady ELIZABETH [see p. 120], stood talking with me.
In the meantime, cometh Sir EDWARD HASTINGS [see Vol. III. p. 147], newly made Master of the Horse to the Queen, and seeing me standing there prisoner, frowning earnestly upon me, said, "Are you come? We will talk with you or your party, I warrant you!" and so went into the Council.
With that, my fellows and kinsman shrank away from me, as men greatly afraid.
I did then perceive the said Sir EDWARD bare in remembrance the controversy that was betwixt him and me in talk and questions of religion at Calais, when the Right Honourable the Earl of HUNTINGDON, his brother, went over, General of 6,000 men: with whom I went the same time, and was Controller of the Ordnance.
The Earl being visited with sickness when he came thither, for that I went over in his company, and could play and sing to the lute, therewith to pass away the time, on the nights being long, for we went over in Christmas [1552], would have me with him in his chamber; and had also a great delight to hear his brother reason with me in matters of religion. Who would be very hot, when I did overlay him with the texts of the Scripture concerning the natural presence of CHRIST in the sacrament of the altar; and would swear great oaths, specially, "by the Lord's foot!" that after the words spoken by the priest there remained no bread, but the natural body that MARY bare.
"Nay, then, it must needs be so," would I say, "and [if] you prove it with such oaths!"
Whereat the Earl would laugh heartily, saying, "Brother, give him over! UNDERHILL is too good for you!" Wherewith he would be very angry.
The greatest hold that he took of, was of the 3rd of JOHN, upon those words, "And no man ascendeth up to heaven, but He that came down from heaven, that is to say, the Son of Man which is in heaven." I drove him from the 6th of JOHN and all other places that he could allege; but from this, he would not be removed, but that those words proved his natural body to be in heaven and in the sacrament also. I told him he as grossly understood CHRIST, as NICODEMUS did in the same place, of "being born anew."
In my opinion, any man that is not given up of GOD, may be satisfied concerning the natural presence in the Supper of the Lord, by the Gospel of Saint JOHN, reading from the first chapter to the end of the seventeenth; with the witness of the first of the Acts of the Apostles of CHRIST's ascension and coming again; if ever he will be satisfied, without the help of any Doctors.
Undoubtedly, the apprehending of me was for this matter: but the great mercy of GOD so provided for me, that Master HASTINGS was not at my examination. For tarrying thus at the Chamber door, Doctor Cox [afterwards Bishop of ELY] was within; who came forth, and was sent to the Marshalsea. Then came forth the Lord FERRERS, [Viscount HEREFORD], and was committed to the Tower. Then it was dinner time, and all were commanded to depart until after dinner.
My two waiting men and I went to an alehouse to dinner; and, longing to know my pain [punishment], I made haste to get to the Council Chamber door, that I might be the first.
Immediately, as they had dined, Secretary BOURNE came to the door, looking as a wolf doth for a lamb; unto whom my two keepers delivered me, standing next unto the door: for there were more behind me.
He took me in greedily, and shut to the door; leaving me at the nether [lower] end of the Chamber, he went unto the Council showing them of me: and then beckoned me to come near.
Then they began the table, and sat them down. The Earl of BEDFORD sat as chief, uppermost upon the bench. Next unto him, the Earl of SUSSEX; next him, Sir RICHARD SOUTHWELL.
On the side next me, sat the Earl of ARUNDEL; next him, the Lord PAGET. By them, stood Sir JOHN GAGE, then Constable of the Tower; the Earl of BATH, and Master [afterwards Sir JOHN] MASON.
At the board's end, stood Serjeant MORGAN [who, later on, condemned Lady JANE GREY] that afterwards died mad; and Secretary [Sir JOHN] BOURNE.
The Lord WENTWORTH [the Lord Deputy of Calais, when lost; see p. 173] stood in the bay window, talking with one, all the while of my examination, whom I knew not.
* * * * *
My Lord of BEDFORD being my very friend, (for that my chance was to be at the recovering of his son, my Lord RUSSELL, when he was cast into the Thames against the Limehurst, whom I carried to my house and got him to bed; who was in great peril of his life, the weather being very cold) would not seem to be familiar with me, nor called me not by my name, but said, "Come hither, sirrah! did not you set forth a ballet of late, in print?"
I kneeled down, saying, "Yes, truly, my Lord! Is that the cause I am called before your Honours?"
"Ay, marry," said Secretary BOURNE, "you have one of them about you, I am sure."
"Nay, truly, have I not," said I.
Then he took one out of his bosom, and read it over distinctly; the Council giving diligent ear.
When he had ended, "I trust, my Lords," said I, "I have not offended the Queen's Majesty in this ballet; nor spoken against her title, but maintained it."
"You have, sir," said Morgan, "yes, I can divide your ballet, and make a distinction in it; and so prove at the least sedition in it."
"Ay, sir," said I, "you men of law will make of a matter what ye list!"
"Lo," said Sir RICHARD SOUTHWELL, "how he can give a taunt! You maintain the Queen's title, with the help of an arrant heretic, TYNDALE."
"You speak of Papists there, sir," said Master MASON, "I pray you, how define you a Papist?"
I look upon him, turning towards him; for he stood on the side of me, "Why, sir," said I, "it is not long since you could define a Papist better than I" [meaning that he had turned with the new change of religion]. With that some of them secretly smiled; as the Lords of BEDFORD, ARUNDEL, SUSSEX, and PAGET.
In great haste, Sir JOHN GAGE took the matter in hand, "Thou callest men Papists there," said he, "who be they that thou judgest to be Papists?"
I said, "Sir, I do name no man, and I came not hither to accuse any, nor none will I accuse; but your Honours do know that in this Controversy that hath been, some be called Papists, and some Protestants."
"But we must know whom thou judgest to be Papists, and that we command thee, upon thine allegiance to declare!"
"Sir," said I, "I think if you look among the priests in Paul's, ye shall find some old Mumpsimuses there."
"Mumpsimuses, knave!" said he, "Mumpsimuses! Thou art an heretic knave, by God's blood!"
"Ay, by the mass!" says the Earl of BATH, "I warrant him an heretic knave indeed."
"I beseech your Honours!" said I, speaking to the Lords that sat at table; for those other stood by, and were not then of the Council, "be my good Lords! I have offended no laws, and I have served the Queen's Majesty's father and brother a long time; and in their service have spent and consumed part of my living, never having, as yet, any preferment or recompense; and the rest of my fellows likewise, to our utter undoings, unless the Queen's Highness be good unto us. And for my part, I went not forth against Her Majesty; notwithstanding that I was commanded, nor liked those doings."
"No, but with your writings, you would set us together by the ears!" said the Earl of ARUNDEL.
"He hath spent his living wantonly," saith BOURNE, "and now saith he has spent it in the King's service; which I am sorry for. He is come of a worshipful house in Worcestershire."
"It is untruly said of you," said I, "that I have spent my living wantonly: for I never consumed any part thereof until I came into the King's service; which I do not repent, nor doubted of recompense, if either of my two masters had lived. I perceive you [to be] BOURNE's son of Worcester; who was beholden unto my uncle WYNTER, and therefore you have no cause to be my enemy: nor you never knew me, nor I you before now, which is too soon."
"I have heard enough of you," said he.
"So have I of you," said I, "how that Master SHELDON drave you out of Worcestershire, for your behaviour."
With that, came Sir EDWARD HASTINGS from the Queen, in great haste, saying, "My Lords! you must set all things apart, and come forthwith to the Queen."
Then said the Earl of SUSSEX, "Have this gentleman unto the Fleet until we may talk further with him!" though I was "knave," before, of Master GAGE.
"To the Fleet!" said Master SOUTHWELL, "have him to the Marshalsea!"
"Have the gentleman to Newgate!" saith Master GAGE again, "Call a couple of the Guard here."
"Ay," saith BOURNE, "and there shall be a letter sent to the keeper how he shall use him; for we have other manner of matters to him than these."
"So had ye need," said I, "or else I care not for you!"
"Deliver him to Master [after Sir WILLIAM] GARRARD, the Sheriff [of London]," said he, "and bid him send him to Newgate."
"My Lord," said I, unto my Lord of ARUNDEL, (for that he was next to me) as they were rising, "I trust you will not see me thus used, to be sent to Newgate. I am neither thief nor traitor."
"You are a naughty fellow!" said he, "you were always tutting in the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND's ear, that you were!"
"I would he had given better ear unto me," said I; "it had not been with him then, as it is now" [waiting his trial in the Tower].
* * * * *
Master HASTINGS passing by me, I thought good to prove him; although he threatened me, before noon.
"Sir," said I, "I pray you speak for me, that I be not sent to Newgate; but rather unto the Fleet, which was first named. I have not offended. I am a Gentleman, as you know; and one of your fellows, when you were of that Band of the Pensioners."
Very quietly, he said unto me, "I was not at the talk, Master UNDERHILL; and therefore I can say nothing to it." But I think he was well content with the place I was appointed to.
So went I forth with my two fellows of the Guard, who were glad they had the leading of me, for they were great Papists.
"Where is that knave, the printer [of the ballad]?" said Master GAGE.
"I know not," said I.
* * * * *
When we came to the Tower gate, where Sir JOHN BRYDGES [afterwards Lord CHANDOS of Sudeley, see p. 128] had the charge, [who was there] with his brother Master THOMAS; with whom I was well acquainted, (but not with Sir JOHN) who, seeing the two of the Guard leading me, without their halberts, rebuked them; and stayed me while they went for their halberts.
His brother said unto me, "I am sorry you should be an offender, Master UNDERHILL."
"I am none, Sir!" said I, "nor went I against the Queen."
"I am glad of that," said he.
And so forth we went at the gate, where was a great throng of people to hear and see what prisoners were committed: and amongst whom stood, my friend Master IVE, the High Constable, my next neighbour.
One of the Guard went forth at the wicket before me, to take me by the arm, the other held me by the other arm; fearing, belike, I would have shifted [escaped] from them amongst the people.
When my friend, who had watched at the gate all the forenoon saw me thus led; he followed afar off, as PETER did CHRIST, to see what should become of me. Many also followed, some that knew me: some to learn who I was; for that I was in a gown of satin.
Thus passed we through the streets, well accompanied, unto Master GARRARD, the Sheriff's house, in the Stocks Market. My friend Master IVE tarried at the gate.
These two of the Guard declared unto Master Sheriff, that they were commanded by the Council to deliver me unto him, and he to send me unto Newgate: saying, "Sir, if it please you, we will carry him thither."
With that, I stepped unto Master Sheriff, and, taking him a little aside, requested him that, forasmuch as their commission was but to deliver me unto him, and he to send me into Newgate, that he would send me by his officers: for the request was of mere malice.
"With a goodwill!" said Master Sheriff.
"Masters!" said he, "you may depart! I will send my officers with this gentleman anon; when they be come in."
"We will see him carried, Sir!" said they, "for our discharge."
Then the Sheriff said sharply unto them, "What! do you think that I will not do the Council's commandment? You are discharged by delivering him unto me!"
With that, they departed.
My friend, Master IVE, seeing them depart and leave me behind, was very glad thereof: and tarried still at the gate to see farther.
All this talk in the Sheriff's hall, did my Lord RUSSELL, son and heir to the Earl of BEDFORD, hear and see; who was at commandment [under arrest] in the Sheriff's house, and his chamber joining into the hall, wherein he might look: who was very sorry for me, for that I had been familiar with him in matters of religion, as well on the other side the seas as at home. He sent me on the morrow, 20s. [= about £10 now]; and every week as much, while I was in Newgate.
When these two companions of the Guard were gone, the Sheriff sent two of his officers with me, who took no bills with them, nor lead me; but followed a pretty way behind me: for as I said unto Master Sheriff, "But for order's sake and to save him blameless, I would have gone unto Newgate myself, at the Council's commandment, or his either."
When I came into the street, my friend Master IVE, seeing me have such liberty, and such distance betwixt me and the officers, he stepped before them, and so went talking with me through Cheapside: so that it was not well perceived that I was apprehended, but by the great company that followed.
The officers delivered me unto the Keeper of Newgate, as they were commanded: who unlocked a door, and willed me to go up the stairs into the Hall. My friend IVE went up with me; where we found three or four prisoners that had the liberty of the house.
After a little talk with my friend, I required him not to let my wife know that I was sent to Newgate, but [to say] to the Counter, until such time that she were near her churching: and that she should send me my night-gown, my Bible, and my Lute. And so he departed.
* * * * *
In a while after, it was supper time [i.e., about 5 p.m.]. The board was covered in the same hall. The Keeper, whose name was ALEXANDER, and his wife came to supper; and half a dozen prisoners that were there for felonies: for I was the first, for religion, that was sent unto that prison; but the cause why, the Keeper knew not.
One of those prisoners took acquaintance of [recognised] me, and said, "He was a soldier under Sir RICHARD CROMWELL in the journey [in July, 1543] to Landreci [in Hainault], where he did know me and whose servant I was, at the same time; and who, the next year following [1544], when the famous King HENRY VIII. went unto Boulogne, did put me unto his Majesty into the room of a man-at-arms. Of the which Band, there were 200 of us, upon barded horses, all in one suit of red and yellow damask, the bards of our horses and plumes of feathers of the same colours, to attend upon his Majesty for the defence of his person."
After supper, this good fellow whose name was BRYSTOW procured me to have a bed in his chamber. He could play well upon the rebeck [violin]. He was a tall man, and afterwards of the Queen MARY's Guard, and yet a Protestant, which he kept secret: "For else," he said, "he should not have found such favour as he did at the Keeper's hands, and his wife's; for to such as love the Gospel, they were very cruel."
"Well," said I, "I have sent for my Bible; and by GOD's grace, therein shall be my daily exercise. I will not hide it from them."
"Sir!" said he, "I am poor; but they will bear with you, for that they see your estate is to pay well; and I will shew you the nature and manner of them: for I have been here a a good while. They both do love music very well; wherefore you with your lute, and I to play with you on my rebeck, will please them greatly. He loveth to be merry, and to drink wine; and she also. If you will bestow upon them every dinner and supper a quart of wine, and some music: you shall be their white son, and have all the favour that they can shew you!" And so it came to pass.
And now I think it good a little to digress from my matter concerning my imprisonment and my deliverance; and to note the great mercy of GOD shewed unto his servants in that great Persecution in Queen MARY's time: how mightily and how many ways he preserved such as did fear Him, even as He preserved DANIEL, JEREMY, PAUL, and many in the old time.
Some were moved by His Spirit to flee over the seas. Some were preserved still in London, that, in all the time of persecution, never bowed their knees unto Baal: for there was no such place to shift [hide] in, in this realm, as London, notwithstanding their great spiall and search; nor no better place to shift the Easter time [to avoid being houselled, i.e., taking the sacrament] than in Queen MARY's Court, serving in the room I did, as shall be shewed hereafter [p. 88].
A great number, God did strengthen constantly to stand to His Word, to glorify His name, which be praised for ever and ever, world without end! And some be preserved for these days.
And now again to prosecute the matter of my trouble and wonderful deliverance out of that loathsome gaol of Newgate.
When that I had been there about two weeks [5th-18th August, 1553], through the evil savours, and great unquietness of the lodgings, as also by occasion of drinking of a draught of strong Hollock [a sweet] wine, as I was going to bed, which my chamber fellow would needs have me to pledge him in, I was cast into an extreme burning ague, that I could take no rest, and desiring to change my lodging. And so did, from one to another, but none could I abide; there was so many evil savours, and so much noise of prisoners.
The Keeper and his wife offered me his own parlour, where he himself lay: which was furthest from noise; but it was near the kitchen, the savour of which I could not abide. Then did she lay me in a chamber, where she said never a prisoner lay, which was her store chamber, where all her plate and money lay; which was much.
So much friendship I found at their hands, notwithstanding that they were spoken unto, by several Papists. And the Woodmongers of London, with whom I had had a great conflict for presenting them for false marking of billets; they required the Keeper to show me no favour, and to lay irons upon me, declaring that "I was the greatest heretic in London."
My very friend Master RECORDE, Doctor of Physic, singularly seen in all the seven sciences, and a great Divine, visited me in the prison (to his great peril if it had been known, who long time was at charges and pains with me, gratis), and also after I was delivered. By means whereof, and the Providence of GOD, I received my health.
* * * * *
My wife then was churched before her time, to be a suitor for my deliverance; who put up a Supplication unto the Council declaring my extreme sickness and small cause to be committed unto so loathsome a gaol; requiring that I might be delivered, putting in sureties to be forthcoming to answer farther when I should be called. Which she obtained by the help of Master [afterwards Sir] JOHN THROGMORTON, being the Master of the Requests, and my countryman [i.e., of Worcestershire] and my kinsman. He, understanding who were my enemies, took a time in their absence, and obtained [on 21st August,1553] a letter to the Keeper, subscribed by the Earl of BEDFORD, the Earl of SUSSEX, [STEPHEN GARDINER the Bishop of] WINCHESTER, [Sir ROBERT] ROCHESTER [Comptroller of the Household], and [Sir EDWARD] WALDEGRAVE, to be delivered; putting in surety, according to the request of my wife's Supplication.
With whom WINCHESTER talked, concerning the christening of her child at the church at the Tower Hill; and the gossips [sponsors], which were the Duke of SUFFOLK, the Earl of PEMBROKE, and the Lady JANE, then being Queen: with the which, he [GARDINER] was much offended.
My Lady THROGMORTON, wife unto Sir NICHOLAS THROGMORTON, was the Queen's deputy; who named my son GUILDFORD after her [the Queen's] husband.
Immediately after the christening was done [on the 19th of July, 1553], Queen MARY was proclaimed in Cheapside; and when my Lady THROGMORTON came into the Tower, the Cloth of Estate was taken down, and all things defaced. A sudden change! She would have gone forth again; but could not be suffered.
But now again to my matter.
When my wife had obtained the letter, joyful she was; and brought her brother, JOHN SPERYNE of London, merchant, with her; a very friendly man, and zealous in the LORD: who was bound with me, according to the Council's letters before Master CHEDELY, Justice of the Peace: who came into the prison unto me; for I was so sick and weak that I was constrained to tarry a while longer, and my wife with me day and night.
During all the time of my sickness, I was constrained to pay 8_d._ [= about 6_s._ 8_d. now_] every meal; and as much for my wife, and for every friend that came to see me, if they were alone with me at dinner or supper time, whether they came to the table or not; and paid also 40s. for a fine for irons [i.e., for not being chained] which they said, "They shewed me great favour in; I should have else paid £4 or £5."
Thus, when they perceived I did not amend, but rather [grew] worse and worse; they thought it best to venture the matter; and provided a horse litter to carry me home to Limehurst. I was so weak that I was not able to get down the stairs; wherefore one that was servant to the gaoler, who, beforetime, had been my man, who was also very diligently and friendly unto me, took me in his arms, and carried me down the stairs to the horse-litter, which stood ready at the prison door; and went with me to my house.
Many people were gathered to see my coming forth, who praised GOD for my deliverance, being very sorry to see my state, and the lamentation of my wife and her friends, who judged I would not live until I came home.
I was not able to endure the going of the horse-litter, wherefore they were fain to go very softly, and oftentimes to stay; at which times, many of my acquaintances and friends and others resorted to see me: so that it was two hours ere we could pass from Newgate to Aldgate; and so within night, before I could get to my house. Where many of my neighbours resorted to see me taken out of the horse-litter; who lamented and prayed for me, thinking it not possible for me to escape death, but by the great mercy of GOD.
Thus I continued for the space of eight or ten days, without any likelihood or hope of amendment.
I was sent to Newgate, the 5th day of August; and was delivered the 5th day of September.
* * * * *
The 1st day of October, was Queen MARY crowned; by which time I was able to walk up and down my chamber. Being very desirous to see the Queen pass through the City, I got up on horseback, being scant able to sit, girded in a long night-gown; with double kerchiefs about my head, a great hat upon them; my beard dubbed [clotted] hard too. My face so lean and pale that I was the very Image of Death; wondered at of all that did behold me; and unknown to any. My wife and neighbours were too too sorry that I would needs go forth; thinking I would not return alive.
Thus went I forth, having on either side of me a man to stay [uphold] me; and so went to the West end of Paul's; and there placed myself amongst others that sat on horseback to see the Queen pass by.
Before her coming, I beheld Paul's steeple bearing top and top-gallant [yards] like a royal ship, with many flags and banners: and a man [PETER, a Dutchman] triumphing and dancing in the top.
I said unto one that sat on horseback by me, who had not seen any coronation, "At the coronation of King EDWARD, I saw Paul's steeple lie at anchor, and now she weareth top and top-gallant. Surely, the next will be shipwreck, ere it be long!" which chanceth sometimes by tempestuous winds, sometimes by lightnings and fire from heaven.
But I thought that it should rather perish with some horrible wind, than with lightning or thunderbolt [evidently alluding to the destruction by lightning of the Steeple, on the 4th June,1561]; but such are the wonderful works of GOD, whose gunners will not miss the mark that He doth appoint, be it never so little.
When the Queen passed by, many beheld me, for they might almost touch me, the room [space] was so narrow; marvelling, belike, that one in such a state would venture forth. Many of my fellows the Pensioners, and others, and divers of the Council beheld me: and none of them all knew me.
I might hear them say one to another, "There is one that loveth the Queen well, belike; for he ventureth greatly to see her. He is very like never to see her more." Thus my men whose hearing was quicker than mine, that stood by me, heard many of them say.
The Queen herself, when she passed by, beheld me. Thus much I thought good to write, to shew how GOD doth preserve that which seemeth to man impossible; as many that day did judge of me. Thus returned I home.
* * * * *
And about two months after [i.e., in December], I was able to walk to London at an easy pace; but still with my kerchiefs and pale lean face. I muffled me with a sarsenet, which the rude people in the streets would murmur at, saying, "What is he? Dare he not show his face?"
I did repair to my old familiar acquaintance, as drapers, mercers, and others: and stood talking with them, and cheapened their wares; and there was not one of them that knew me.
Then would I say unto them, "Do you not know me? Look better upon me! Do you not know my voice?" For that also was altered.
"Truly," would they say, "you must pardon me! I cannot call you to remembrance."
Then would I declare my name unto them; whereat they so marvelled, that they could scarcely credit me, but for the familiar acquaintance that I put them in remembrance of.
* * * * *
Thus passed I forth the time at Limehurst until Christmas [1553] was passed, then I waxed something strong. I then thought it best to shift from thence; for that I had there fierce enemies; especially [HENRY MORE the Vicar of Stepney, Abbot quondam of St. Mary de Grace on Tower Hill. He died in November, 1554.]
Whom I apprehended in King EDWARD's time, and carried him to Croydon to CRANMER, Bishop of CANTERBURY, for that he disturbed the Preachers in his Church [at Stepney] causing the bells to be rung when they were at the Sermon; and sometimes begin to sing in the Choir before the sermon were half done, and sometimes challenge the Preacher in the Pulpit. For he was a strong stout Popish prelate: whom the godly men of the parish were weary of; specially my neighbours of the Limehurst, as Master DRIVER, Master IVE, Master POINTER, Master MARCHE, and others.
Yet durst they not meddle with him, until it was my hap to come and dwell amongst them: and for that I was the King's Servant, I took it upon me; and they went with me to the Bishop to witness those things against him. Who was too full of lenity. A little he rebuked him, and bad him do no more so.
"My Lord," said I, "methinks, you are too gentle unto so stout a Papist!"
"Well," said he, "we have no law to punish them by."
"We have, my Lord!" said I. "If I had your authority, I would be so bold to un-Vicar him; or minister some sharp punishment unto him, and such other. If ever it come to their turn; they will show you no such favour."
"Well," said he, "if GOD so provide, we must abide it."
"Surely," said I, "GOD will never cone you thank for this; but rather take the sword from such as will not use it upon His enemies." And thus we departed.
The like favour is shewed now [i.e., in ELIZABETH's reign]; and therefore the like plague will follow.
There was also another spiteful enemy at Stepney, called BANBERY, a shifter, a dicer, &c., like unto DAPERS the dicer, MORGAN of Salisbury Court, busking [Sir THOMAS, also called Long] PALMER, lusty YOUNG, [Sir] RALPH BAGNALL [see Vol. III. p. 147], [Sir] MILES PARTRIDGE [idem], and such others. With which companions, I was conversant a while; until I fell to reading the Scriptures, and following the Preachers.
Then, against the wickedness of those men, which I had seen among them; I put forth a ballet, uttering the falsehood and knavery that I was made privy unto. For the which, they so hated me that they raised false slanders and bruits of me, saying that "I was a spy for the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND": and calling me [Bishop] "HOOPER's companion," for a bill that I set up upon Paul's gate, in defence of HOOPER; and another at St. Magnus's Church, where he was too much abused, with railing bills cast into the pulpit and other ways.
Thus became I odious unto most men, and many times in danger of my life, even in King EDWARD's days. As also for apprehending one ALLEN, a false prophesier [of whom UNDERHILL says elsewhere, This ROBERT ALLEN was called the God of Norfolk, before they received the light of the Gospel]; who bruited [in January, 1551] that King EDWARD was dead, two years before it came to pass; who was a great calculator for the same. But these jugglers and wicked dicers were still in favour among the magistrates, and were advanced; who were the sowers of sedition, and the destroyers of the two Dukes.
I pray God the like be not practised by such flatterers in these days [i.e., in ELIZABETH's reign], according to the old proverb, "He that will in Court dwell, must curry Fauvell." And
He that will in Court abide, Must curry Fauvell back and side,
[i.e., he must curry or groom a horse, of Fauvell (a bright yellow or tawny) colour (opposed to Sorell, a dark colour), back and side.]
for such get most gain.
I was also called "the hot Gospeller!" jesting and mocking me, saying, "He is all of the Spirit!"
This was their common custom, at their tables, to jest and mock the Preachers and earnest followers of the Gospel; even among the magistrates: or else [speak] in wanton and ribald talk; which when they fell into, one or other would look through [along] the board, saying, "Take heed that UNDERHILL be not here!"
At Stratford on the Bow [now Stratford at Bow], I took the pix of the altar; being of copper, stored with copper gods: the Curate being present, and a Popish Justice dwelling in the town, called Justice TAWE.
There was commandment it should not hang in a string over the altar; and then, they set it upon the altar.
For this act, the Justice's wife with the women of the town, conspired to have murdered me; which one of them gave me warning of, whose good will to the Gospel was not unknown unto the rest. Thus the Lord preserved me from them, and many other dangers more; but specially from hell fire, but that, of His mercy, He called me from the company of the wicked.
This BANBERY, aforesaid, was the spy for Stepney parish; as JOHN AVALES, BEARD, and such others were for London: who [i.e., BANBERY]caused my friend and neighbour Master IVE to be sent unto the Marshalsea, but the LORD shortly delivered him. Wherefore I thought it best to avoid [leave]; because my not coming to the church there, should by him be marked and presented.
Then took I a little house in a secret corner, at the nether [lower] end of Wood Street; where I might better shift the matter.
Sir HUMPHREY RATCLIFFE was the Lieutenant of the Pensioners, and always favoured the Gospel; by whose means I had my wages still paid me [70 marks a year = £46 13_s._ 4_d._ = about £500 now; besides a free diet].
* * * * *
When [Sir THOMAS] WYATT was come to Southwark [6th February, 1554] the Pensioners were commanded to watch in armour that night, at the Court: which I hearing of, thought it best, in like sort, to be there; lest by my absence I might have some quarrel piked unto [picked with] me; or, at the least, be stricken out of the book for receiving any more wages.
After supper, I put on my armour as the rest did; for we were appointed to watch all the night.
So, being all armed, we came up into the Chamber of Presence, with our pole-axes in our hands. Wherewith the Ladies were very fearful. Some lamenting, crying, and wringing their hands, said, "Alas, there is some great mischief toward! We shall all be destroyed this night! What a sight is this! to see the Queen's Chamber full of armed men. The like was never seen, nor heard of!"
The Master [JOHN] NORRIS, who was a Gentleman Usher of the Utter [Outer] Chamber in King HENRY VIII.'s time, and all King EDWARD's time; always a rank Papist, and therefore was now Chief Usher of Queen MARY's Privy Chamber: he was appointed to call the Watch, and see if any were lacking. Unto whom, MOORE, the Clerk of our Cheque, delivered the book of our names; which he perused before he would call them at the cupboard. And when he came to my name, "What!" said he, "what doth he here?"
"Sir," said the Clerk, "he is here ready to serve as the rest be."
"Nay, by God's body!" said he, "that heretic shall not be called to watch here! Give me a pen!" So he struck out my name out of the book.
The Clerk of the Cheque sought me out, and said unto me, "Master UNDERHILL, you need not to watch! you may depart to your lodging!"
"May I?" said I, "I would be glad of that," thinking I had been favoured, because I was not recovered from my sickness: but I did not well trust him, because he was also a Papist. "May I depart indeed?" said I, "will you be my discharge?"
"I tell you true," said he, "Master NORRIS hath stricken you out of the book, saying these words, 'That heretic shall not watch here!' I tell you true what he said."
"Marry, I thank him!" said I, "and you also! You could not do me a greater pleasure!"
"Nay, burden not me withal!" said he, "it is not my doing."
So departed I into the Hall, where our men were appointed to watch. I took my men with me, and a link; and went my ways.
* * * * *
When I came to the Court gate, there I met with Master CLEMENT THROGMORTON [father of JOB THROGMORTON, the Martinist of 1589], and GEORGE FERRERS [the Poet and Historian; see p. 173], tending their links, to go to London. Master THROGMORTON was come post from Coventry; and had been with the Queen to declare unto her the taking of the Duke of SUFFOLK. Master FERRERS was sent from the Council unto the Lord WILLIAM HOWARD, who had the charge of the watch at London Bridge.
As we went, for that they were both my friends and Protestants, I told them of my good hap, and manner of discharge of the Watch at the Court.
When we came to Ludgate, it was past eleven o'clock. The gate was fast locked; and a great watch within the gate of Londoners, but none without: whereof HENRY PECKHAM had the charge, under his father; who, belike, was gone to his father, or to look to the water side.
Master THROGMORTON knocked hard, and called to them, saying, "Here are three or four gentlemen come from the Court that must come in; and therefore open the gate!"
"Who?" quoth one, "What?" quoth another; and much laughing they made.
"Can ye tell what you do, sirs?" said Master THROGMORTON, declaring his name, and that he had been with the Queen to shew her Grace of the taking of the Duke of SUFFOLK, "and my lodging is within, as I am sure, some of you do know!"
"And," said FERRERS, "I am FERRERS, that was Lord of Misrule with King EDWARD; and am sent from the Council unto my Lord WILLIAM, who hath charge of the Bridge as you know, upon weighty affairs: and therefore let us in, or else ye be not the Queen's friends!"
Still there was much laughing amongst them.
Then said two or three of them, "We have not the keys. We are not trusted with them. The keys be carried away for this night."
"What shall I do?" said Master THROGMORTON, "I am weary and faint, and I now wax cold. I am not acquainted hereabout; nor no man dare open his doors at this dangerous time; nor am I able to go back again to the Court. I shall perish this night!"
"Well," said I, "Let us go to Newgate! I think I shall get in there."
"Tush!" said he, "it is but in vain. We shall be answered there as we are here."
"Well," said I, "and [if] the worst fall, I can lodge ye in Newgate. Ye know what acquaintance I have there! and the Keeper's door is without the gate."
"That were a bad shift!" said he, "I had almost as leave die in the streets; yet I will, rather than wander again to the Court."
"Well," said I, "let us go and prove! I believe the Keeper will help us in at the gate, or else let us in through his wards, for he hath a door on the inside also. If all this fail, I have a friend at the gate, NEWMAN the ironmonger; in whose house I have been lodged: where, I dare warrant you, we shall have lodging, or at the least, house-room and fire."
"Marry, this is well said!" saith FERRERS.
So to Newgate, we went: where was a great Watch without the gate, which my friend NEWMAN had the charge of; for that he was the Constable. They marvelled to see there, torches coming at that time of the night.
When we came to them, "Master UNDERHILL," said NEWMAN, "what news, that you walk so late?"
"None but good!" said I, "We come from the Court, and would have gone in at Ludgate, and cannot be let in: wherefore, I pray you, if you cannot help us in here, let us have lodging with you!"
"Marry, that ye shall!" said he, "or go in at the gate whether ye will!"
"Godamercy, gentle friend!" said Master THROGMORTON; "I pray you let us go in, if it may be!"
He called to the Constable within the gate, who opened the gate forthwith. "How happy was I!" said Master THROGMORTON, "that I met with you. I had been lost else."
* * * * *
When WYATT was come about [i.e., from Southwark, through Kingston, to Westminster on 7th February 1554], notwithstanding my discharge of the watch by Master NORRIS, I put on my armour, and went to the Court [at Whitehall Palace]: where I found all my fellows in the Hall, which they were appointed to keep that day.
Old Sir JOHN GAGE was appointed without the utter [outer] gate, with some of his Guard, and his servants and others with him. The rest of the Guard were in the Great Court, the gates standing open. Sir RICHARD SOUTHWELL had charge of the back sides, as the Wood Yard and that way, with 500 men.
The Queen was in the Gallery by the Gatehouse.
Then came KNEVETT and THOMAS COBHAM with a company of the rebels with them, through the Gatehouse from Westminster: wherewith Sir JOHN GAGE and three of the Judges [of the Common Pleas] that were meanly armed in old brigantines [jackets of quilted leather, covered with iron plates] were so frighted, that they fled in at the gates in such haste, that old GAGE fell down in the dirt and was foul arrayed: and so shut the gates, whereat the rebels shot many arrows.
By means of this great hurly burly in shutting of the gates, the Guard that were in the Court made as great haste in at the Hall door; and would have come into the Hall amongst us, which we would not suffer. Then they went thronging towards the Water Gate, the kitchens, and those ways.
Master GAGE came in amongst us, all dirt; and so frighted that he could not speak to us. Then came the three Judges; so frighted that we could not keep them out, except we should beat them down.
With that we issued out of the Hall into the Court, to see what the matter was; where there were none left but the porters, the gates being fast shut. As we went towards the gate, meaning to go forth, Sir RICHARD SOUTHWELL came forth of the back yards into the Court.
"Sir!" said we, "command the gates to be opened that we may go to the Queen's enemies! We will else break them open! It is too much shame that the gates should thus be shut for a few rebels! The Queen shall see us fell down her enemies this day, before her face!"
"Masters!" said he, and put his morion off his head, "I shall desire you all, as you be Gentlemen, to stay yourselves here; that I may go up to the Queen to know her pleasure; and you shall have the gates opened. And, as I am a Gentleman! I will make speed!"
Upon this, we stayed; and he made a speedy return: and brought us word, the Queen was content that we should have the gates opened: "But her request is," said he, "that you will not go forth of her sight; for her only trust is in you, for the defence of her person this day."
So the gate was opened, and we marched before the Gallery window: where she spake unto us; requiring us, "As we were Gentlemen, in whom she only trusted, that we would not go from that place."
There we marched up and down the space of an hour; and then came a herald posting, to bring the news that WYATT was taken.
Immediately came Sir MAURICE BERKELEY and WYATT behind him; unto whom he did yield at the Temple Gate: and THOMAS COBHAM behind another gentleman.
* * * * *
Anon after, we [the Gentlemen Pensioners] were all brought unto the Queen's presence, and every one kissed her hand; of whom we had great thanks and large promises how good she would be unto us: but few or none of us got anything, although she was very liberal to many others, that were enemies unto GOD's Word, as few of us were.
* * * * *
Thus went I home to my house, where[in] I kept, and came little abroad, until the marriage was concluded with King PHILIP.
Then was there [the] preparing [in July, 1555] to go with the Queen, unto Winchester; and all the Books of the Ordinaries were perused by [STEPHEN GARDINER] the Bishop of WINCHESTER and the Earl of ARUNDEL, to consider of every man.
Sir HUMPHREY RATCLIFFE, our Lieutenant, brought unto him the Book of the Pensioners; which when they overlooked, they came unto my name.
"What doth he here?" said the Earl of ARUNDEL.
"I know no cause why he should not be here," said Master RATCLIFFE, "he is an honest man. He hath served from the beginning of the Band [founded in December, 1539, as the Band of Spears. It consisted of a Captain, Lieutenant, Standard bearer, Clerk of the Cheque, and Gentleman Harbinger, and fifty Gentlemen; chosen out of the best and most ancient families of England. Some of them sons to Earls, Barons, Knights, and Esquires: men thereunto specially recommended for their worthiness and sufficiency; without any stain or taint of dishonour, or disparagement in blood], and was as forward as any to serve the Queen, in the time of WYATT's rebellion."
"Let him pass then!" said the Bishop.
"Well," said the Earl, "you may do so; but I assure you, my Lord! he is an arch-heretic!"
Thus I passed once again.
* * * * *
When we came to Winchester, being in the Chamber of Presence, with my fellows, Master NORRIS came forth of the Queen's Privy Chamber; unto whom we did reverence, as his place required.
"What!" saith he unto me; "what do you here?"
"Marry, sir!" said I, "what do you here?"
"Eh!" said he, "are you so short with me?"
"Sir!" said I, "I must and will forbear, for the place you be in; but if you were in the place you were in, of the Outer Chamber, I would be shorter with you! You were then the doorkeeper; when we waited at the table. Your office is not to find fault at my being here. I am at this time appointed to serve here, by those that be in authority; who know me, as well as you do!"
"They shall know you better!" said he, "and the Queen also."
With that, said Master JOHN CALVELEY, one of my fellows (brother unto Sir HUGH CALVELEY, of Cheshire), who served at the journey to Laundercei in the same Band that I did, "In good faith! Master NORRIS, methinks you do not well! This gentleman, our fellow, hath served of long time, and was ready to venture his life in defence of the Queen's Majesty at the last service, and as forward as any was there; and also being appointed and ready to serve here again now, to his great charges, as it is unto us all, methinks you do other than the part of a Gentleman thus to seek him!"
"What!" said he, "I perceive you will hold together!"
"Else we were worse than beasts," said my fellow; "if we would not, in all lawful cases, so hold together; he that toucheth one of us, shall touch all."
So went he from us, into the Privy Chamber; and from that time never meddled more with me.
* * * * *
On the marriage day [25th July, 1555, at Winchester], the King and the Queen dined in the hall in the Bishop's Palace; sitting under the Cloth of Estate, and none else at that table. The Nobility sat at the side tables. We were the chief servitors, to carry the meat; and the Earl of SUSSEX, our Captain, was the Sewer.
The second course at the marriage of a King is given unto the bearers; I mean the meat, but not the dishes, for they were of gold.
It was my chance to carry a great pasty of a red deer in a great charger, very delicately baked; which, for the weight thereof, divers refused [i.e., to carry]. The which pasty I sent unto London, to my wife and her brother; who cheered therewith many of their friends.
I will not take upon me, to write the manner of the marriage, of the feast, nor of the dancing of the Spaniards, that day; who were greatly out of countenance, specially King PHILIP dancing with the Queen, when they did see my Lord BRAY, Master CAREW, and others so far exceed them; but will leave it unto the learned, as it behoveth him to be, that shall write a Story of so great a Triumph.
* * * * *
Which being ended, their repair was to London. Where, shortly after, began the cruel persecution of the Preachers and earnest professors and followers of the Gospel; and searching of men's houses for their books. Wherefore I got old HENRY DAUNCE, the bricklayer of Whitechapel; who used to preach the Gospel in his garden, every holiday, where I have seen a thousand people: he did inclose my books in a brick wall by the chimney's side in my chamber; where they were preserved from moulding or mice, until the first year of our most gracious Queen ELIZABETH, &c.
Notwithstanding that, I removed from thence, and went unto Coventry; and got me a house a mile out of that city in a wood side. But before I removed from the said house [in Wood Street] in London; I had two children born there, a wench [i.e., a girl, his fifth daughter, ANNE, born 4th January, 1554], and a boy [his second son, EDWARD, born 10th February, 1555].
It was a great grief to me, to see so much innocent blood shed for the Verity. I was also threatened by JOHN AVALES and BEARD: which I understood by Master LUKE [SHEPHERD], my very friend, of Coleman Street, physician; who was great with some that kept them company, and yet were honest men. Whom I caused to let them understand, that "If they did attempt to take me, except they had a warrant signed with four or five of the Council's hands, I would go further with them than PETER did, who strake off but the ear of MALCHUS; but I would surely strike off head and all." Which was declared unto them; so that I oftentimes met them, but they would not meddle with me. So mightily the merciful LORD defended me; as also from being present at that blasphemous Mass, in all the time of Queen MARY.
This LUKE [SHEPHERD] wrote many proper books against the Papists, for the which he was imprisoned in the Fleet; especially a book called JOHN BON and mast. Person, who reasoned together of the natural presence in the Sacrament [see pp. 101-111]. Which book he wrote in the time of King EDWARD; wherewith the Papists were sore grieved, specially SIR JOHN GRESHAM, then being Mayor [i.e., October 1547-October 1548; but the true date of ALLEN's arrest would appear, from p. 87, to have been in 1551; when Sir ANDREW JUDDE was Lord Mayor].
JOHN DAY did print the same book [? in 1551]; whom the Mayor sent for, to know the maker [author] thereof saying "He should also go to prison, for printing the same."
It was my chance to come in the same time; for that I had found out where [ROBERT] ALLEN the Prophesier, had a chamber; through whom there was a bruit in the city, that the King was dead: which I declared to the Mayor, requiring him to have an Officer to apprehend him.
"Marry," said the Mayor, "I have received letters to make search for such this night at midnight."
He was going unto dinner; who willed me to take part of the same.
As we were at dinner, he said "There was a book put forth, called JOHN BON; the maker whereof, he would gladly search for."
"Why so?" said I, "that book is a good book. I have one of them here, and there are many of them in the Court."
"Have you so?" said he, "I pray you, let me see it; for I have not seen any of them."
So he took it, and read a little of it, and laughed thereat, as it was both pithy and merry. By means whereof, JOHN DAY, sitting at a sideboard after dinner, was bidden [to] go home; who had, else, gone to prison.
When we had dined, the Mayor sent two of his Officers with me to seek ALLEN; whom we met withal in Paul's [Church], and took him with us unto his chamber; where we found figures set to calculate the nativity of the King, and a judgement given of his death; whereof this foolish wretch thought himself so sure, that he, and his counsellors the Papists, bruited it all over.
The King lay at Hampton Court, the same time; and my Lord Protector [the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND] at the Sion [Sion House, near Isleworth]; unto whom I carried this ALLEN, with his books of conjurations, calculations, and many things belonging to that devilish art: which he affirmed before my Lord, "was a lawful science, for the statute [33 Hen. VIII. c. 8.] against such was repealed [by 1 Edw. VI. c. 12]."
"Thou foolish knave!" said my Lord, "if thou, and all that be of thy science tell me what I shall do to-morrow, I will give thee all that I have!" Commanding me to carry him unto the Tower: and wrote a letter to Sir JOHN MARKHAM, then being Lieutenant, to cause him to be examined by such as were learned.
Master MARKHAM, as he was both wise and zealous in the LORD, talked with him. Unto whom he did affirm that "He knew more of the science of Astronomy than all the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge." Whereupon he sent for my friend, before spoken of, Doctor RECORDE; who examined him: and he knew not the rules of Astronomy; but "Was a very unlearned ass; and a sorcerer, for the which he was worthy hanging," said Master RECORDE.
To have further matters unto [in reference to] him, we sent for THOMAS ROBYNS alias MORGAN, commonly called Little MORGAN or TOM MORGAN (brother unto great [big] MORGAN, of Salisbury Court, the great dicer); who, when I was a companion with him, told me many stories of this ALLEN: what a cunning man he was! and what things he could do! as, to make a woman love a man, to teach men how to win at the dice, what should become of this realm; there was nothing, but he knew it! So he had his chambers in divers places of the city, whither resorted many women, for things stolen or lost, to know their fortunes, and their children's fortunes; where the ruffling roister[er]s and dicers made their ma[t]ches.
* * * * *
When this MORGAN and ALLEN were brought together; MORGAN utterly denied that ever he had seen him, or known him.
"Yes," said ALLEN, "you know me! and I know you!" For he had confessed that, before his coming.
Upon this, Master Lieutenant stayed Little MORGAN also a prisoner in the Tower.
* * * * *
I caused also Master GASTON the lawyer [not to be confounded with GASCOIGNE the Poet, of Gray's Inn; who did not marry Widow BRETON till after 13th June, 1559], who was also a great dicer, to be apprehended. In whose house, ALLEN was much; and had a chamber there, where many things were practised.
GASTON had an old wife, who was laid under the board all night, for dead; and when the women, in the morning, came to wind her, they found that there was life in her; and so recovered her: and she lived about two years after.
By the resort of such as came to seek for things stolen and lost, which they would hide for the nonce, to blear their husband's eyes withal, [afterwards] saying, "the wise man told them"; of such, GASTON had choice for himself and his friends, young lawyers of the Temple [, not of Gray's Inn].
Thus became I so despised and odious unto the lawyers, Lords and ladies, gentlemen, merchants, knaves, and thieves; that I walked as dangerously as DANIEL amongst the lions. Yet from them all, the LORD delivered me: notwithstanding their often devices and conspiracies by violence to have shed my blood, or with sorcery [to have] destroyed me.
These aforesaid were in the Tower about the space of a year; and then by friendship delivered. So 'scapeth always the wicked, and such as GOD commandeth should not live among the people.
Yea, even now in these days also; so that, methinks, I see the ruin of London and this whole realm to be even at hand; for GOD will not suffer any longer. Love is clean banished. No man is sorry for JOSEPH's hurt.
A Prayer, taken out of the Psalms of DAVID, daily and nightly, to be said of EDWARD UNDERHILL.
Lord! teach me the understanding of Thy commandments! that I may apply myself for the keeping of the same, as long as I live! Give me such wisdom that I may understand, and so to fulfil the thing that Thy law deviseth! to keep it also with my whole heart, that I do nothing against it! Guide me after the true understanding of Thy commandments! for that hath been always my special desire. Incline mine heart unto the love of Thy statutes, and cause me utterly to abhor covetousness! Turn mine eyes aside! lest they be 'tangled with the love of most vain things; but lead me, rather, unto life through Thy warnings! Set such a Word before Thy servant, as may most chiefly further him to worship Thee! Take away the shame that I am afraid of! for Thy judgements are greatly mixed with mercy. As for me, verily, I have loved Thy commandments; wherefore keep me alive according to Thy righteousness!
Love GOD, above all things! and thy neighbour as thyself! That this is CHRIST'S doctrine, no man can it deny, Which little is regarded in England's commonwealth, Wherefore great plagues at hand be, the realm for to destroy.
Do as thou wouldst be done unto! No place here he can have. Of all he is refused. No man will him receive. But Private Wealth, that cursed wretch, and most vile slave! Over all, he is embraced; and fast to him, they cleave.
He that hath this world's goods, and seeth his neighbour lack; And of him hath no compassion, nor sheweth him no love, Nor relieveth his necessity, but suffers him to go to wrack; GOD dwelleth not in that man, the Scriptures plainly prove.
Example we have by DIVES, that daintily did fare, In worldly wealth and riches therein he did excel; Of poor LAZARUS's misery he had thereof no care: Therefore was suddenly taken, and tormented in hell.
* * * * *
+EDWARD UNDERHILL.+
#John Bon and# #mast Parson.#
* * * * *
Picture of a procession of Priests bearing the Host.
* * * * *
[->] #Alas, poor fools! so sore ye be lade! No marvel is it, though your shoulders ache: For ye bear a great god which ye yourselves made. Make of it, what ye will! it is a Wafer Cake; And between two irons, printed it is and bake. And look, where idolatry is, Christ will not be there! Wherefore, lay down your burden! An idol, ye do bear! [->] Alas, poor fools!#
[This attack on the Mass, written by Doctor LUKE SHEPHERD, one of the very earliest productions of the press of the celebrated Elizabethan printer, JOHN DAY, was apparently printed in 1551; and is reprinted here from the Percy Society's text, on account of UNDERHILL's story respecting it at p. 96.]
#John Bon and mast Parson.#
[->] #The Parson.#
What, JOHN BON! Good morrow to thee!
#John Bon.#
Now, good morrow, mast[er] Parson, so mut I thee!
#Parson.#
What meanest thou, JOHN! to be at work so soon?
#John.#
The sooner I begin, the sooner shall I have done, For I 'tend to work no longer than none.
#Parson.#
Marry, JOHN, for that, GOD's blessing on thy heart! For, surely, some there be, will go to plough and cart; And set not by, this holy Corpus Christi even.
#John.#
They are the more to blame, I swear by Saint Stephen! But tell me, mast[er] Parson, one thing, and you can; What Saint is Copsi Cursty, a man, or a woman?
#Parson.#
Why, JOHN! knowest not that? I tell thee, it was a man. It is CHRIST His own self, and to-morrow is His day. We bear Him in procession, and thereby know it ye may.
#John.#
I know! mast[er] Parson! and nay, by my fay! But methink it is a mad thing that ye say, That it should be a man. How can it come to pass? Because ye may Him bear within so small a glass.
#Parson.#
Why, neighbour JOHN, and art thou now there? Now I may perceive ye love this new gear.
#John.#
God's forbod! master! I should be of that faction. I question why, your masship, in way of cumlication. A plain man, ye may see, will speak as cometh to mind: Ye must hold us excused, for ploughmen be but blind. I am an eld fellow, of fifter winter and more, And yet, in all my life, I knew not this before.
#Parson.#
No did! Why sayest thou so? Upon thyself, thou lyest! Thou hast ever known the sacrament to be the body of CHRIST!
#John.#
Yea, sir, ye say true! All that, I know indeed; And yet, as I remember, it is not in my Creed: But as for Cropsy Cursty to be a man or no, I knew not till this day, by the way my soul shall to!
#Parson.#
Why, foolish fellow! I tell thee it is so! For it was so determined by the Church long ago; It is both the sacrament and very CHRIST himself.
#John.#
No spleaser, mast[er] Parson! Then make ye CHRIST an elf; And the maddest made man, that ever body saw!
#Parson.#
What! peace, mad man! Thou speakest like a daw! It is not possible his manhood for to see.
#John.#
Why, sir; ye tell me it is even very He: And if it be not His manhood, His godhead it must be.
#Parson.#
I tell thee, none of both! What meanest thou? Art thou mad?
#John.#
No, neither made nor drunk; but to learn I am glad: But to displease your masship, I would be very loath, Ye grant me here plainly, that it is none of both, Then it is but a cake: but I pray ye, be not wroth!
#Parson.#
Wroth, quoth ha! By the mass! (thou makest me swear an oath), I had leaver with a Doctor of Divinity to reason, Than with a stubble cur, that eateth beans and peason.
#John.#
I cry ye mercy, mast[er] Parson! Patience for a season! In all this cumlication is neither felony nor treason.
#Parson.#
No, by the mass! But hearest thou! It is plain heresy.
#John.#
I am glad it chanced so, there was no witness by; And if there had, I cared not; for ye spake as ill as I. I speak but as I heard you say, I wot not what ye thought. Ye said "It was not God, nor man," and made it worse than nought.
#Parson.#
I meant not so. Thou tookest me wrong!
#John.#
A, sir! Ye sing another song! I dare not reason with you long. I see well, now, ye have a knack To say a thing, and then go back.
#Parson.#
No, JOHN! I was but a little overseen: But thou meantest not good faith, I ween, In all this talk that was us between.
#John.#
I! No, trow, it shall not so been That JOHN BON shall an heretic be called, Then might he lay him so foul befald.
#Parson.#
But, now, if thou wilt mark me well! From beginning to ending, I will thee tell Of the godly service that shall be to-morrow; That, ere I have done, no doubt, thou wilt sorrow To hear that such things should be foredone. And yet, in many places, they have begun To take away the old, and set up new. Believe me, JOHN! this tale is true.
#John.#
Go to, mast[er] Parson! Say on, and well to thrive! Ye be the jolliest gemman [gentleman] that ever saw in my life.
#Parson.#
We shall first have Matins. Is it not a godly hearing?
#John# [who is now speaking, aside].
Fie! yes. Methink 'tis a shameful gay cheering, For oftentimes, on my prayers, when I take no great keep, Ye sing so arrantly well, ye make me fall asleep!
#Parson.#
Then have we Procession, and CHRIST about we bear.
#John.#
That is a poison holy thing, for GOD Himself is there.
#Parson.#
Then come we in, and ready us dress, Full solemnly to go to Mess.
#John.#
Is not here a mischievous thing! The Mess is vengeance holy, for all their saying!
#Parson.#
Then say we Confiteor and Miseriatur.
#John.#
JEZE LORD! 'tis abominable matter!
#Parson.#
And then we stand up to the altar.
#John.#
This gear is as good as Our Lady's Psalter.
#Parson.#
And so go forth with the other deal Till we have read the Pistel and Gospel.
#John.#
That is good, mast[er] Parson, I know right well.
#Parson.#
Is that good! Why, what say'st thou to the other?
#John.#
Marry! horribly good! I say none other.
#Parson.#
So is all the Mess, I dare avow this, As good in every point as Pistel or Gospel is.
#John.#
The foul evil it is! Who would think so much? In faith, I ever thought that it had been no such.
#Parson.#
Then have we the Canon, that is holiest.
#John.#
A spiteful gay thing, of all that ever I wist.
#Parson.#
Then have we the Memento, even before the sacring.
#John.#
Ye are morenly well learned! I see by your reck'ning That ye will not forget such an elvish thing.
#Parson.#
And after that, we consecrate Very God and Man; And turn the bread to flesh, with five words we can.
#John.#
The devil ye do! I trow this is pestilence business! Ye are much bound to GOD for such a spittle holiness! A gallows gay gift! With five words alone, To make both God and Man; and yet we see none! Ye talk so unreasonably well, it maketh my heart yearn, As eld a fellow as I am, I see well I may learn.
#Parson.#
Yea, JOHN! and then, with words holy and good, Even, by and by, we turn the wine to blood.
#John.#
Lo! Will ye se? Lo! who would have thought it? That ye could so soon from wine to blood ha brought it? And yet, except your mouth be better tasted than mine, I cannot feel it other but that it should be wine. And yet I wot ne'er a cause there may be, why Perchance, ye ha drunk blood oftner than ever did I.
#Parson.#
Truly, JOHN, it is blood, though it be wine in taste. As soon as the word is spoke, the wine is gone and past!
#John.#
A sessions on it! for me. My wits are me benumme: For I cannot study where the wine should become?
#Parson.#
Study, quoth ha! Beware, and let such matter go! To meddle much with this, may bring ye soon to woe.
#John.#
Yea, but, mast[er] Parson! think ye it were right, That, if I desired you to make my black ox white; And you say, "It is done!" and still is black in sight; Ye might me deem a fool, for to believe so light?
#Parson.#
I marvel much, ye will reason so far! I fear if ye use it, it will ye mar!
#John.#
No, no, sir! I trust of that I shall be 'ware, I pray you, with your matter again forth to fare!
#Parson.#
And then we go forth, and CHRIST's body receive; Even the very same that MARY did conceive.
#John.#
The devil it is! Ye have a great grace To eat GOD and Man in so short a space.
#Parson.#
And so we make an end, as it lieth in an order. But now the blessed Mess is hated in every border, And railed on, and reviled, with words most blasphemous: But I trust it will be better with the help of Catechismus. For though it came forth but even that other day, Yet hath it turned many to their old way: And where they hated Messe, and had it in disdain, There have they Messe and Matins in Latin tongue again. Yea, even in London self, JOHN, I tell the truth! They be full glad and merry to hear of this, GOD knoweth!
#John.#
By my troth! mast[er] Parson, I like full well your talk! But mass me no more messings! The right way will I walk. For, though I have no learning, yet I know cheese from chalk, And each can perceive your juggling, as crafty as ye walk! But leave your devilish Mass, and the Communion to you take! And then will CHRIST be with you; even for His promise sake!
#Parson.#
What, art thou such a one, and kept it so close! Well, all is not gold, that hath a fair gloss, But, farewell, JOHN BON! GOD bring thee in better mind!
#John.#
[Sidenote: These are cries to the plough horses.]
I thank you, sir! for that you seem very kind; But pray not so for me! for I am well enough. Whistle, boy! drive forth! GOD speed us and the plough! Ha! browne done! forth, that horson crab! Reecomomyne, garled! with haight, black hab! Have a gain, bald before! hayght ree who! Cherrily, boy, come off! that homeward we may go.
#Finis.#
[->] #Imprinted at London, by John Day, and# #William Seres, dwelling in Sepulchres# #Parish, at the sign of the Resurrection,# #a little above Holborn Conduite.#
CUM GRATIA ET PRIVILEGIO AD IMPRIMENDUM SOLUM.
+JOHN FOX+, the Martyrologist.
The Imprisonment of the Princess ELIZABETH.
[Actes and Monumentes, &c., p. 1710. Ed. 1563.]
First, therefore, to begin with her princely birth, being born at Greenwich, anno 1534, of the famous and victorious Prince, King HENRY VIII., and of the noble and most virtuous Lady, Queen ANNE her mother; sufficiently is committed to the story before. Also of the solemn celebration of her baptism in the said town, and Grey Friar's Church, of Greenwich; having to her godfather, THOMAS CRANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury.
After that, she was committed to godly tutors and governors. Under whose institution her Grace did so greatly increase, or rather excel in all manner of virtue and knowledge of learning, that I stand in a doubt whether is more to be commended in this behalf, the studious diligence of them that brought her up, or the singular towardness of her own princely nature to all virtuous disposition; so apt and so inclinable: both being notwithstanding the gifts of GOD, for which we are all bound to give Him thanks. What tongue is it that Her Grace knoweth not? What language she cannot speak? What liberal art or science, she hath not learned? And what virtue wherewith her noble breast is not garnished? In counsel and wisdom, what Councillor will go beyond Her Majesty?
If the goodness of nature, joined with the industry of Her Grace's institution, had not been in her marvellous, how many things were there, besides the natural infirmity of that sex, the tenderness of youth, the nobility of estate, allurements of the world, persuasions of flatterers, abundance of wealth and pleasures, examples of the Court, enough to carry her Grace away after the common fashion and rule of many other Ladies, from gravity to lightness, from study to ease, from wisdom to vanity, from religion to superstition, from godliness to gawishness, to be pricked up with pride, to be garish in apparel, to be fierce in condition?
Eloquently is it spoken, and discreetly meant of TULLY, the eloquent orator: "To live," saith he, "a good man in other places, is no great matter: but in Asia, to keep a sober and temperate life, that is a matter indeed praiseworthy!" So here, why may I not affirm without flattery, that [which] every man's conscience can testify? In that age, that sex, in such State and fortune, in so great occasions, so many incitements: in all these, to retain so sober conversation, so temperate condition, such mildness of manners, such humbleness of stomach, such clemency in forgiving, such travailing in study: briefly, in the midst of Asia, so far to degenerate from all Asia; it hath not lightly been seen in Europe! Hitherto, it hath been seen in very few. Whereby it may appear not only what education, or what Nature may do; but what GOD, above Nature, hath wrought in her noble breast, adorning it with so worthy virtues.
Of which her princely qualities and virtuous disposition, such as have been conversant with her youth can better testify. That which I have seen and read, I trust I may boldly repeat without suspicion either of feigning or flattery. For so I have read, written, and testified of Her Grace by [according to] one, both learned and also that can say something in this matter. Who in a certain book, by him set forth, entreating of Her Grace's virtuous bringing up, what discreet, sober, and godly women she had about her; speaketh, namely, of two points in Her Grace to be considered. One concerning her moderate and maidenly behaviour; the other one concerning her training up in learning and good letters. Declaring, first, for her virtuous moderation of life, that seven years after her father's death [i.e. in 1553], she had no little pride of stomach, so little delight in glistering gazes of the world, in gay apparel, rich attire, and precious jewels, that in all that time [i.e., through her brother EDWARD's reign] she never looked upon those, that her father left her (and which other Ladies commonly be so fond upon) but only once; and that against her will. And, moreover, after that, so little gloried in the same, that there came neither gold nor store upon her head, till her sister enforced her to lay off her former soberness, and bear her company in her glistening gains: yea, and then, she so ware it, as every man might see that her body bare that which her heart misliked. Wherein the virtuous prudence of this Princess, not reading but following the words of PAUL and PETER, well considered True Nobility to consist not in circumstances of the body, but in substance of the heart; not in such things which deck the body, but in that which dignifieth the mind, shining and blazing more bright than pearl or stone, be it never so precious.
Again, the said author, further proceeding in the same matter, thus testifieth, that he knew a great man's daughter receiving from the Lady MARY, before she was Queen, goodly apparel of tinsel, cloth of gold and velvet, laid on with parchment lace of gold. When she saw it she said, "What shall I do with it?"
"Marry!" said a gentlewoman, "wear it!"
"Nay!" quoth she, "that were a shame! To follow my Lady MARY, against GOD's Word; and leave my Lady ELIZABETH, which followeth GOD's Word."
Let noble Ladies and gentlewomen here learn either to give, or to take good example given: and if they disdain to teach their inferiors, in well doing; yet, let it not shame them, to learn of their betters.
Likewise also at the coming in of the Scottish Queen [in 1553], when all the other Ladies of the Court flourished in their bravery, with their hair frounced and curled, and double curled; yet she altered nothing; but to the shame of them all, kept her old maidenly shamefastness.
Let us now come to the second point, declaring how she hath been trained in learning; and that not vulgar and common, but the purest and the best, which is most commended at these days, as the Tongues, Arts, and GOD's Word. Wherein she so exceedingly profited, as the foresaid author doth witness, that being under twenty years of age [i.e., before 1554], she was not, in the best kind of learning, inferior to those that all their life time had been brought up in the Universities, and were counted jolly fellows.
And that you may understand that there hath not been, nor is in her, learning only without nature, and knowledge without towardness to practice; I will tell what hath been heard of her first schoolmaster [JOHN AYLMER], a man very honest and learned: who reported of her, to a friend of his, that "He learned every day more of her, than she of him." Which when it seemed to him a mystery, as indeed it was, and he therefore desired to know his meaning therein, he thus expounded it: "I teach her words," quoth he, "and she, me things. I teach her the tongues to speak; and her modestly and maidenly life teacheth me words to do. For," saith he, "I think she is the best inclined and disposed of any in all Europe."
It seemed to me a goodly commendation of her, and a witty saying of him.
Likewise [CASTIGLIONE] an Italian, which taught her his tongue (although that nation lightly praise not out of their own country), said once to the said party, that "He found in her two qualities, which are never lightly yokefellows in one woman; which were a singular wit, and a marvellous meek stomach."
If time and leisure would serve to peruse her whole life past, many other excellent and memorable examples of her princely qualities and singular virtues might here be noted; but none, in my mind, more worthy of commendation, or that shall set forth the fame of her heroical and princely renown more to all posterity, than the Christian patience, and incredible clemency of her nature showed in her afflictions, and towards her declared enemies. Such was then the wickedness and rage of that time, wherein what dangers and troubles were among the inferior subjects of this realm of England, may be easily gathered when such a Princess, of that Estate, being a King's daughter, a Queen's sister, and Heir Apparent to the Crown, could not escape without her cross.
And therefore, as we have hitherto discoursed [of] the afflictions and persecutions of the other poor members of CHRIST, comprehended in this History before; so likewise, I see no cause why the communion of Her Grace's afflictions also, among the other saints of CHRIST, ought to be suppressed in silence: especially seeing the great and marvellous workings of GOD's glory, chiefly in this Story, appeareth above all the rest.
And though I should, through ingratitude or silence, pass over the same; yet the thing itself is so manifest, that what Englishman is he which knoweth not the afflictions of Her Grace to have been far above the condition of a King's daughter: for there was no more behind, to make a very IPHIGENIA of her, but her offering up upon the altar of the scaffold.
In which her storms and tempests, with what patience Her Highness behaved herself, although it be best known to them who, then being her adversaries, had the minding [imprisoning] of her. Yet this will I say, by the way, that then she must needs be in her affliction, marvellous patient: which sheweth herself now, in this prosperity, to be utterly without desire of revenge; or else she would have given some token, ere this day, of remembrance, how she was handled.
It was no small injury that she suffered, in the Lord Protector's days, by certain venomous vipers! But to let that pass! was it no wrong, think you! or small injury that she sustained, after the death of King EDWARD, when they sought to defeat her and her sister from their natural inheritance and right to the Crown?
But to let that pass likewise! and to come more near to the late days of her sister, Queen MARY. Into what fear, what trouble of mind, and what danger of death was she brought?
First, with great solemnity, with bands of harnessed men [i.e., in arms and armour] (Happy was he that might have the carrying of her!) to be fetched up, as the greatest traitor in the world; clapped in the Tower: and, again, to be tossed from thence, from prison to prison, from post to pillar. At length, also prisoner in her own house; and guarded with a sort [number] of cutthroats, which ever gaped for the spoil of the same, that they might have been fingering of somewhat.
Which Story, if I should set forth at large, through all the particulars and circumstances of the same, and as the just occasion of the history requireth; peradventure, it would move offence to some, being yet alive. Yet notwithstanding, I intend, by the grace of CHRIST, therein to use such brevity and moderation as may be to the glory of GOD, the discharge of the Story, the profit of the reader, and hurt to none: suppressing the names of some, whom here, although I could recite, yet I thought not to be more cruel in hurting their name, than the Queen hath been in pardoning their life.
Therefore, now to enter into the description of the matter. First, to declare her undeserved troubles; and then, the most happy deliverance out of the same, this is the Story.
* * * * *
In the beginning of Queen MARY'S reign, mention is made before, how the Lady ELIZABETH, and the Lord COURTNEY were charged with false suspicion of [being concerned in] Sir THOMAS WYATT's rising [in January, 1554, see p. 88].
Whereupon, Queen MARY, whether for that surmise, or for what other cause I know not, being offended with the said Lady ELIZABETH her sister, at that time lying in her house at Ashridge [near Great Berkhampstead], sent to her two Lords [or rather WILLIAM, Lord HOWARD, Sir EDWARD HASTINGS, afterwards Lord HASTINGS of Loughborough; and Sir THOMAS CORNWALLIS, and Sir JOHN WILLIAMS, afterwards Lord WILLIAMS] of Thame, with their retinue, and troop of horsemen, to the number of 250, who at their sudden and unprovided [unexpected] coming on the 11th February, 1554, found her at the same time, sore sick in bed, and very feeble and weak of body.
Whither, when they came; ascending up to Her Grace's Privy Chamber, willed there, one of her Ladies whom they met, to declare unto Her Grace that "There were certain Lords come from the Court, which had a message from the Queen."
Her Grace having knowledge thereof, was right glad of their coming: howbeit, being then very sick, and the night far spent, which was at ten of the clock, requested them by the messenger, that they would resort thither in the morning.
To this, they answered, and by the said messenger sent word again, that "They must needs see her; and would do so, in what case soever she were in." Whereat, the Lady being aghast, went to shew Her Grace their words; but they hastily following her, came rushing as soon as she, into Her Grace's chamber, unbidden.
At whose so sudden coming into her bedchamber, Her Grace being not a little amazed, said unto them, "My Lords! is the haste such, that it might not have pleased you to come to-morrow, in the morning?"
They made answer, that "They were right sorry to see Her Grace in that case."
"And I," quoth she, "am not glad to see you here, at this time of the night!"
Whereunto, they answered that "They came from the Queen to do their message and duty; which was to this effect, that the Queen's pleasure was that she should be at London, the 7th [? 12th] day of that present month."
Whereunto, she said, "My Lords! no creature [can be] more glad than I, to come to Her Majesty; being right sorry that I am not in case at this time, like to wait on her; as you yourselves, my Lords! do see and can well testify!"
"Indeed, we see it true," quoth they, "that you do say; for which we are very sorry: albeit we let you to understand that our Commission is such, and so straineth us, that we must needs bring you with us, either quick or dead."
Whereat she being amazed, sorrowfully said that "Their commission was very sore! but yet, notwithstanding, she hoped it to be otherwise, and not so straight."
"Yes, verily!" they answered.
Whereupon the Lords calling for two physicians, Doctor OWEN and Doctor WENDIF, demanded of them, "Whether she might be removed from thence, with life or not?" whose answer and judgement was this, "That there was no impediment to their judgement to the contrary; but that she might travel without danger of life."
In conclusion, they willed her to prepare against the morning, at nine of the clock, to go with them, declaring that "they had brought with them, the Queen's litter for her."
After much talk, the Lords declaring how there was no prolonging of times and days, so departed to their chamber; being entertained and cheered as appertained to their Honours.
On the next morrow [12th February], at the time prescribed, they had her forth as she was, very faint and feeble; and in such case as she was ready to swoon three or four times between them. What should I speak here that [which] cannot well be expressed! What a heavy house there was to behold the unreverent and doleful dealing of the Lords; but especially the careful fear and captivity of their innocent Lady and mistress.
Now to proceed in their journey. From Ashridge, all sick in the litter, she came to Redborne; where she was guarded all night.
From thence, to St. Albans, to Sir RALPH ROWLET's house; where she tarried that night all heavy, both feeble in body, and comfortless in mind.
From that place, they passed to Master DODD's house, at Mimms [near Potters' Bar]; where they also remained that night.
And so from thence, she came to Highgate: where she, being very sick, tarried that night and the next day: during which time of her abode, there came many pursuivants and messengers from the Court unto the Lords; but what about, I cannot tell.
From that place, she was conveyed to the Court; where by the way came to meet her, many gentlemen to accompany Her Highness, which were very sorry to see her in that case: but especially a great multitude of people that were standing by the way; who then flocking about her litter, lamented and greatly bewailed her estate.
* * * * *
Now when she came to the Court, Her Grace was there straightways shut up, and kept as close prisoner for a fortnight, seeing neither Queen, nor Lord, nor friend at that time; but only then, the Lord Chamberlain, Sir JOHN GAGE, and the Vice-Chamberlain, which were attendant upon the doors.
About which time, Sir WILLIAM ST. LO was called before the Council; to whose charge was laid, that he knew of WYATT's rebellion: which he stoutly denied, protesting that he was a true man, both to God and his Prince, defying all traitors and rebels. But being straitly examined, was, in conclusion, committed to the Tower.
The Friday before Palm Sunday [16th March], [STEPHEN GARDINER] the Bishop of WINCHESTER, with nineteen others of the Council (who shall be here nameless, as I have promised) came unto Her Grace, from the Queen's Majesty; and burdened [accused] her with WYATT's conspiracy: which she utterly denied, affirming that "she was altogether guiltless therein."
They being not contented with this, charged Her Grace with the business made by Sir PETER CAREW and the rest of the Gentlemen of the West Country; which she also utterly denying, cleared her innocency therein.
In conclusion, after long debating of matters, they declared unto her, that "It was the Queen's will and pleasure that she should go unto the Tower, while the matter were further tried and examined."
Whereat, she being aghast, said that "She trusted the Queen's Majesty would be a more gracious Lady unto her; and that Her Highness would not otherwise conceive of her, but that she was a true woman." Declaring furthermore to the Lords, that "She was innocent in all those matters, wherein they had burdened her, and desired them therefore to be a further mean to the Queen her sister, that she, being a true woman in thought, word, and deed, towards Her Majesty, might not be committed to so notorious and doleful a place": protesting that she would request no mercy at her hand, if she should be proved to have consented unto any such kind of matter as they laid unto her charge. And therefore, in fine, desired their Lordships to think of her what she was; and that she might not so extremely be dealt withal for her truth.
Whereunto, the Lords answered that "There was no remedy. For that the Queen's Majesty was fully determined that she should go unto the Tower"; wherewith the Lords departed, with their caps hanging over their eyes [this was a purposed sign of disrespect].
But not long after, within the space of an hour or a little more, came four of the foresaid Lords of the Council, with the Guard, who warding the next chamber to her, secluded all her Gentlemen and yeomen, Ladies and gentlewomen; saving that for one Gentleman Usher, three Gentlewomen, and two Grooms of her Chamber, were appointed in their rooms, three other men, and three waiting women of the Queen's, to give attendance upon her; that none should have access to her Grace.
At which time, there were a hundred of Northern soldiers, in white coats, watching and warding about the gardens all that night: a great fire being made in the midst of the Hall; and two certain Lords watching there also with their Band and company.
* * * * *
Upon Saturday, being Palm Sunday Eve [17th March], two certain Lords of the Council, whose names here also we do omit [but who were the Marquis of WINCHESTER and the Earl of SUSSEX], came and certified Her Grace that "forthwith she must go unto the Tower! the barge being prepared for her, and the tide now ready, which tarrieth for nobody."
In heavy mood, Her Grace requested the Lords, that "She might tarry another tide;" trusting that the next would be more joyous and better because in the day time.
But one of the Lords [i.e., WINCHESTER] replied that "Neither tide nor time was to be delayed!"
And when Her Grace requested him, that she might be suffered to write to the Queen's Majesty, he answered that "He durst not permit that;" adding that, "in his judgement it would rather hurt than profit Her Grace in so doing."
But the other Lord, who was the Earl of SUSSEX, more courteous and favourable, kneeling down, told Her Grace that "She should have liberty to write, and, as he was a true man, he would deliver it to the Queen's Highness; and bring an answer of the same, whatsoever came thereof."
Whereupon she wrote: albeit she could not, nor might not speak with her; to her great discomfort, being no offender against Her Majesty.
[The actual letter written by the Princess, at this moment, is in the State Paper Office. Domestic, MARY, Vol. IV. No. 2.
The Lady ELIZABETH to the Queen.
If any ever did try this old saying, that A King's word was more than another man's oath, I most humbly beseech your Majesty to verify it in me; and to remember your last promise, and my last demand, that "I be not condemned without answer and due proof," which it seems that I now am: for, without cause proved, I am, by your Council, from you, commanded to go to the Tower, a place more wonted for a false traitor than a true subject, which, though I know I desire it not, yet, in the face of all this realm, [it] appears proved. While I pray to GOD I may die the shame-fullest death that ever any died afore, if I may mean any such thing! and to this present hour I protest before GOD (who shall judge my truth, whatsoever malice shall devise), that I never practised, counselled, nor consented to anything that might be prejudicial to your person any way, or dangerous to the State by any means. And therefore, I humbly beseech your Majesty to let me answer afore yourself and not suffer me to trust to your Councillors; yea, and that afore I go to the Tower, if it be possible, if not, before I be further condemned. Howbeit, I trust assuredly your Highness will give me leave to do it, afore I go; that thus shamefully, I may not be cried out on, as I now shall be: yea, and without cause!
Let conscience move your Highness to take some better way with me than to make me be condemned in all men's sight afore my desert known! Also I most humbly beseech your Highness to pardon this my boldness, which innocency procures me to do; together with hope of your natural kindness which I trust will not see me cast away, without desert: which what it is, I would desire no more of GOD but that you truly knew; but which thing, I think and believe you shall never by report know; unless by yourself you hear.
I have heard of many, in my time, cast away for want of coming to the presence of their Prince; and, in late days, I heard my Lord of SOMERSET say that "If his brother [The Admiral Lord THOMAS SEYMOUR] had been suffered to speak with him, he had never suffered; but persuasions were made to him so great that he was brought in belief that he could not live safely if the Admiral lived, and that made him give consent to his death." Though these persons are not to be compared to your Majesty; yet, I pray GOD, as evil persuasions persuade not one sister against the other! and all for that they have heard false report, and not hearken to the truth not known.
Therefore, once again, kneeling with humbleness of heart, because I am not suffered to bow the knees of my body; I humbly crave to speak with your Highness: which I would not be so bold as to desire, if I knew not myself most clear, as I know myself most true.
And as for the traitor WYATT, he might peradventure, write me a letter; but, on my faith, I never received any from him. And as for the copy of the letter sent to the French King, I pray GOD may confound me eternally if ever I sent him word, message, token, or letter, by any means! And to this truth, I will stand in to my death.
Your Highness's most faithful subject, that hath been from the beginning, and will be to my end,
+ELIZABETH.+.
I humbly crave but only one word of answer from yourself.]
And thus the tide [season] and time passed away for that time, till the next day, being Palm Sunday, when, about nine of the clock, these two came again, declaring that "it was time for Her Grace to depart."
She answered, "If there be no remedy, I must be contented;" willing the Lords to go on before.
And being come forth into the garden, she did cast up her eyes towards the window; thinking to have seen the Queen, which she could not. Whereat she said, "She marvelled much, what the Nobility of the realm meant; which, in that sort, would suffer her to be led forth into captivity, the LORD knew whither! for she did not."
After all this, she took her barge, with the two aforesaid Lords, three of the Queen's Gentlewomen, and three of her own, her Gentleman Usher, and two of her Grooms: lying and hovering upon the water, an hour; for that they could not shoot the Bridge [the tide used to rush through the narrow spaces of old London bridge, with the force of a mill-race]: the bargemen being very unwilling to shoot the same so soon as they did, because of the danger thereof. For the stern of the boat struck upon the ground, the fall was so big, and the water was so shallow.
Then Her Grace desired of the Lords, that "She might not land at the stairs where all traitors and offenders customably used to land" [called the Traitor's Gate].
They answered that "it was past their remedy; for that otherwise they had in commandment."
"Well," said she, "if it be so, my Lords! I must needs obey it: protesting before all your Honours, that here now steppeth as true a subject as ever was, towards the Queen's Highness. And before thee, O GOD! I speak it; having none other friends, but only Thee!"
The Lords declared unto her that "there was no time then to try the truth."
"You have said well, my Lords!" quoth she, "I am sorry that I have troubled you!"
So then they passed on [i.e., through the Traitor's Gate], and went into the Tower: where were a great company of harnessed men, and armed soldiers warding on both sides: whereat she being amazed, called the Lords to her, and demanded "the cause, why those poor men stood there?"
They declared unto her, that "it was the use and order of the place so to do."
"And if it be," quoth she, "for my cause; I beseech you that they may be dismissed."
Whereat, the poor men kneeled down, and with one voice, desired GOD to preserve Her Grace; who, the next day, were released of their cold coats.
After this, passing a little further, she sat down upon a cold stone, and there rested herself.
To whom, the Lieutenant [Lord CHANDOS, see p. 78] then being, said, "Madam, you were best to come out of the rain! for you sit unwholesomely."
She then replying, answered again, "Better sitting here, than in a worse place! For, GOD knoweth! I know not whither you will bring me!"
With that, her Gentleman Usher wept. She demanded of him, "What he meant so uncomfortably to use her, seeing she took him to be her comforter, and not her dis-mayer: especially for that she knew her truth to be such, that no man should have cause to weep for her." But forth she went into the prison.
The doors were locked and bolted upon her; which did not a little discomfort and dismay Her Grace. At what time, she called to her gentlewoman for her book [i.e., her Bible], desiring GOD, "Not to suffer her to build her foundation upon the sands, but upon the rocks! whereby all blasts of blustering weather should have no power against her."
After the doors were thus locked, and she close shut up; the Lords had great conference how to keep ward and watch, every man declaring his opinion in that behalf, agreeing straightly and circumspectly to keep her: while that one of them, I mean the Lord of SUSSEX, swearing, said, "My Lords! let us take heed! and do no more than our Commission will bear us! whatsoever shall happen hereafter. And, further, let us consider that she was the King our Master's daughter! and therefore let us use such dealing, that we may answer unto it hereafter, if it shall so happen! For just dealing," said he, "is always answerable."
Whereunto the other Lords agreed that it was well said of him: and thereupon departed.
It would make a pitiful and strange story, here by the way, to touch and recite what examinations and rackings of poor men there were, to find out the knife that should cut her throat! what gaping among the Lords of the Clergy to see the day, wherein they might wash their goodly white rochets in her innocent blood? But especially the Bishop of WINCHESTER, STEPHEN GARDINER, then Lord Chancellor, and ruler of the rost.
Who then, within few days after [March, 1554], came unto her, with divers other of the Council, and examined her of the talk that was at Ashridge, betwixt her and Sir JAMES A CROFT concerning her removing from thence to Donnington Castle, requiring her to declare, "What she meant thereby?"
At the first, she, being so suddenly taken, did not well remember any such house: but within a while, well advising herself, she said, "Indeed, I do now remember that I have such a place: but I never lay in it, in all my life. And as for any that hath moved me thereunto, I do not remember."
Then to enforce the matter, they brought forth Sir JAMES A CROFT.
The Bishop of WINCHESTER demanded of her, "What she said to that man?"
She answered that, "She had little to say to him, or to the rest that were then prisoners in the Tower. But my Lords!" quoth she, "you do examine every mean prisoner of me! wherein, methinks, you do me great injury! If they have done evil, and offended the Queen's Majesty, let them answer to it accordingly. I beseech you, my Lords! join not me in this sort with any of these offenders! And as concerning my going unto Donnington Castle, I do remember Master HOBY and mine Officers, and you Sir JAMES A CROFT! had such talk: but what is that to the purpose, my Lords! but that I may go to my own houses at all times?"
The Lord of ARUNDEL, kneeling down, said, "Your Grace saith true! and certainly we are very sorry that we have so troubled you about so vain matters."
She then said, "My Lords, you did sift me very narrowly! But well I am assured, you shall do no more to me, than GOD hath appointed: and so, GOD forgive you all!"
At their departing, Sir JAMES A CROFT kneeled down, declaring that "He was sorry to see the day in which he should be brought as a witness against Her Grace." "But, I assure your Grace," said he, "I have been marvellously tossed and examined touching your Highness; which, the Lord knoweth! is strange to me. For I take GOD to record! before all your Honours! I do not know anything of that crime that you have laid to my charge! and will thereupon take my death, if I should be driven to so straight a trial."
[There seems no doubt that at the back of all the following efforts to alleviate and terminate the imprisonment of the Princess, was the ever faithful Sir WILLIAM CECIL, working by many secret means, as far as he dare.]
[Side note: These were not the Officers of the Tower, but such as went in white and green.]
That day or thereabouts, divers of her own Officers, who had made provision for her diet, brought the same to the utter [outer] gate of the Tower; the common rascal soldiers receiving it: which was no small grief unto the Gentlemen, the bearers thereof.
Wherefore they required to speak with [Sir JOHN GAGE] the Lord Chamberlain, being then Constable of the Tower: who, coming before his presence, declared unto his Lordship that "they were much afraid to bring Her Grace's diet, and to deliver it unto such common and desperate persons as they were, which did receive it; beseeching His Honour to consider Her Grace, and to give such order that her viands might at all times be brought in by them which were appointed thereunto."
"Yea, sirs!" said he, "who appointed you this office?"
They answer, "Her Grace's Council!"
"Council!" quoth he, "there is none of them which hath to do, either in that case, or anything else within this place; and, I assure you! for that she is a prisoner, she shall be served with the Lieutenant's men, as the other prisoners are."
Whereat the Gentlemen said that "They trusted for more favour at his hands! considering her personage," saying that "They mistrusted not, but that the Queen and her Council would be better to Her Grace than so!" and therewith shewed themselves to be offended at the ungrateful [harsh] words of the Lord Chamberlain, towards their Lady and Mistress.
At this, he sware, by GOD! stroking himself on the breast; that "If they did either frown or shrug at him; he would set them where they should see neither sun nor moon!"
Thus taking their leave, they desired GOD to bring him into a better mind towards Her Grace, and departed from him.
Upon the occasion whereof [there being always a fear of poisoned food], Her Grace's Officers made great suit unto the Queen's Council, that some might be appointed to bring her diet unto her; and that it might no more be delivered in to the common soldiers of the Tower: which being reasonably considered, was by them granted. Thereupon were appointed one of her Gentlemen, her Clerk of the Kitchen, and her two Purveyors, to bring in her provisions once a day. All which was done. The warders ever waiting upon the bringers thereof (and the Lord Chamberlain himself, being always with them), circumspectly and narrowly watched and searched what they brought; and gave heed that they should have no talk with any of Her Grace's waiting servants; and so warded them both in and out.
At the said suit of her Officers, were sent, by the commandment of the Council, to wait upon Her Grace, two Yeomen of her Chamber, one of her Robes, two of her Pantry and Ewry, one of her Buttery, another of her Cellar, two of her Kitchen, and one of her Larder: all which continued with her, the time of her trouble.
Here the Constable (being at the first not very well pleased with the coming in of such a company against his will) would have had his men still to have served with Her Grace's men: which her servants, at no hand, would suffer; desiring his Lordship to be contented, for "that order was taken that no stranger should come within their offices."
At which answer, being sore displeased, he brake out into these threatening words: "Well," said he, "I will handle you well enough!"
Then went he into the kitchen, and there would needs have his meat roasted with Her Grace's meat; and said "His cook should come thither, and dress it."
To that, Her Grace's Cook answered, "My Lord! I will never suffer any stranger to come about her diet, but her own sworn men, so long as I live!"
He said, "They should!"
But the Cook said, "His Lordship should pardon him for that matter!"
Thus did he trouble her poor servants very stoutly: though afterward he were otherwise advised, and they were more courteously used at his hands. And good cause why! For he had good cheer, and fared of the best; and Her Grace paid well for it.
Wherefore he used himself afterwards more reverently towards Her Grace.
* * * * *
After this sort, having lain a whole month there, in close prison; and being very evil at ease therewithal; she sent [in April] for the Lord Chamberlain and Lord CHANDOS [see p. 78] to come and speak with her.
Who coming, she requested them that "She might have liberty to walk in some place, for that she felt herself not well."
To the which, they answered that "They were right sorry that they could not satisfy Her Grace's request; for that they had commandment to the contrary, which they durst not in any wise break."
Furthermore, she desired of them, "If that could not be granted; that she might walk but into the 'Queen's Lodgings.'"
"No, nor that!" they answered, "could, by any means, be obtained, without a further suit to the Queen and her Council."
"Well," said she, "my Lords! if the matter be so hard that they must be sued unto, for so small a thing; and that friendship be so strait, God comfort me!"
And so they departed: she remaining in her old dungeon still; without any kind of comfort, but only GOD.
The next day after, the Lord CHANDOS came again unto Her Grace, declaring unto her that "He had sued unto the Council for further liberty. Some of them consented thereunto. Divers others dissented, for that there were so many prisoners in the Tower. But in conclusion, they did all agree that Her Grace might walk into those 'Lodgings'; so that he and the Lord Chamberlain, and three of the Queen's Gentlewomen did accompany her: and the windows were shut, and she not suffered to look out at any of them." Wherewith, she contented herself; and gave him thanks for his goodwill in that behalf.
Afterwards, there was liberty granted to Her Grace to walk in a little garden, the doors and gates being shut up; which, notwithstanding, was as much discomfort unto her, as the walk in the garden was pleasant and acceptable. At which times of her walking there, the prisoners on that side straightly were commanded not to speak, or look out at the windows into the garden, till Her Grace were gone out again: having in consideration thereof, their keepers waiting upon them for that time.
Thus Her Grace, with this small liberty, contented herself in GOD, to whom be praise therefore.
* * * * *
During this time, there used a little boy, the child of a man in the Tower, to resort to their chambers, and many times to bring Her Grace flowers; which likewise he did to the other prisoners that were there. Whereupon naughty and suspicious heads thinking to make and wring out some matter thereof, called, on a time, the child unto them, promising him figs and apples, and asking, "When he had been with the Earl of DEVONSHIRE?" not ignorant of the child's wonted frequenting unto him.
The boy answered that "He would go by-and-by thither."
Further they demanded of him, "When he was with the Lady ELIZABETH?"
He answered, "Every day!"
Furthermore they examined him, "What the Lord DEVONSHIRE sent by him to Her Grace?"
The child said, "I will go [and] know what he will give to carry to her." Such was the discretion of the child, being yet but three years of age.
"This same is a crafty boy!" quoth the Lord Chamberlain; "what say you, my Lord CHANDOS?"
"I pray you, my Lord! give me the figs ye promised me!"
"No, marry," quoth he, "thou shalt be whipped if thou come any more to the Lady ELIZABETH, or the Lord COURTNEY!"
The boy answered, "I will bring the Lady, my Mistress, more flowers!"
Whereupon the child's father was commanded to permit the boy no more to come into their chambers.
And the next day, as Her Grace was walking in the garden, the child, peeping in at a hole in the door, cried unto her, saying, "Mistress! I can bring you no more flowers!" Whereat, she smiled, but said nothing; understanding thereby, what they had done.
Wherefore, afterwards, the Lord Chamberlain rebuked his father highly; commanding him to put him out of the house.
"Alas, poor infant!" quoth the father.
"It is a crafty knave!" quoth the Lord Chamberlain. "Let me see him here no more!"
The 5th day of May [1554], the Constable was discharged of his office of the Tower; one Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD being placed in his room. A man unknown to Her Grace, and therefore the more feared: which so sudden [a] mutation was unto her, no little amaze.
He brought with him a hundred soldiers in blue coats; wherewith she was marvellously discomforted; and demanded of such as were about her, "Whether the Lady JANE's scaffold were taken away or not?" fearing, by reason of their coming, least she should have played her part.
To whom, answer was made, that "The scaffold was taken away; and that Her Grace needed not to doubt [fear] any such tyranny, for GOD would not suffer any such treason against her person."
Wherewith, being contented, but not altogether satisfied, she asked, "What Sir H. BEDINGFIELD was? and whether he was of that conscience or not, that if her murdering were secretly committed to his charge, he would see the execution thereof?"
She was answered that "They were ignorant what manner of man he was." Howbeit they persuaded her that GOD would not suffer such wickedness to proceed.
"Well!" quoth she, "GOD grant it be so! For Thou! O GOD! art the withdrawer and mollifier of all such tyrannous hearts and acts! and I beseech Thee! to hear me thy creature! which am Thy servant and at Thy commandment! trusting by Thy grace ever so to remain."
* * * * *
About which time, it was spread abroad, that Her Grace should be carried from thence; by this new jolly captain and his soldiers; but whither, it could not be learned. Which was unto Her Grace a great grief, especially for that such a kind of company was appointed to her guard: requesting rather to continue there still, than to be led thence with such a rascal company.
At last, plain answer was made by the Lord CHANDOS, that "There was no remedy; but from thence she must needs depart to the Manor of Woodstock, as he thought."
Being demanded of her, "For what cause?"
"For that," quoth he, "the Tower is like[ly] further to be furnished."
Whereat she, being more greedy, as far as she durst, demanded, "wherewith!"
He answered, "With such matter as the Queen and Council were determined in that behalf: whereof he had no knowledge." And so departed.
In conclusion, the 16th day of May she was removed from the Tower: the Lord Treasurer [the Marquis of WINCHESTER] being then there, for the lading of her carts, and discharging the Place of the same.
* * * * *
Where Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD, being appointed her goaler, did receive her with a company of rakehells to guard her; besides the Lord of DERBY'S Band [servants] wafting in the country about, for the moonshine in the water[!]. Unto whom, at length came, my Lord [WILLIAMS] of Thame, joined in Commission, with the said Sir HENRY for the safe guiding of her to prison. And they together conveyed Her Grace to Woodstock, as hereafter followeth.
The first day [16th May], they conducted her to Richmond, where she continued all night: being restrained of her own men, which were laid out in chambers; and Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD his soldiers appointed in their rooms, to give attendance on her person.
Whereat she, being marvellously dismayed, thinking verily some secret mischief a working towards her, called her Gentleman Usher, and desired him with the rest of his company to pray for her, "For this night," quoth she, "I think to die."
Whereat he being stricken to the heart, said, "GOD forbid that any such wickedness should be pretended [intended] against your Grace!"
So comforting her as well as he could, he at last burst out in tears; and went from her down into the court where were walking the Lord [WILLIAMS] of Thame, and Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD; and he staying aside the Lord of Thame, who had proffered to him much friendship, desire to speak with him a word or two.
Unto whom, he familiarly said, "He should with all his heart."
Which when Sir HENRY standing by, heard, he asked, "What the matter was?"
To whom the Gentleman Usher answered, "No great matter, sir, but to speak with my Lord a word or two!"
Then when the Lord of Thame came to him he spake in this wise, "My Lord! you have always been my good Lord, and so I beseech you to remain. Why I come to you at this time, is to desire your Honour, unfeignedly to declare unto me, whether any danger is meant unto my Mistress this night or not? that I and my poor fellows may take such part as [it] shall please GOD to appoint. For certainly we will rather die, than she should secretly and innocently miscarry."
"Marry," said the Lord of Thame, "GOD forbid that any such wicked purpose should be wrought! and rather than it should be so, I, with my men, are ready to die at her feet also."
And so, GOD be praised! they passed that doubtful night, with no little heaviness of heart.
* * * * *
The next day [17th May] passing over the water [i.e., the Thames] at Richmond, going towards Windsor; Her Grace espied certain of her poor servants standing on the other side, which were very desirous to see her. Whom, when she beheld, turning to one of her men standing by, said, "Yonder, I see certain of my men; go to them! and say these words from me, Tanquam ovis!"
So, she passing forward to Windsor, was lodged there that night, in the Dean of Windsor's house: a place indeed more meet for a priest, than a Princess.
And from thence [on 18th May] Her Grace was guarded and brought the next night, to Master DORMER's house; where much people standing by the way, some presented to her one gift, and some another. So that Sir HENRY was greatly moved thereat, and troubled the poor people very sore, for shewing their loving hearts in such a manner; calling them "Rebels!" and "Traitors!" with such like vile words.
Besides, as she passed through the villages, the townsmen rang the bells, as being joyful of her coming; thinking verily it had been otherwise than it was indeed: and as the sequel proved after, to the poor men. For immediately the said Sir HENRY hearing the same, sent his soldiers hither: who apprehended some of the ringers, setting them in the stocks, and otherwise uncourteously misused some others for their good wills.
On the morrow [18th May] Her Grace passed from Master DORMER's, where was, for the time of her abode, a straight watch kept; came to the Lord of Thame his house [at Thame] where she lay all the next night; being very princely entertained, both of Knights and Ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen. Whereat Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD gronted [grunted] and was highly offended, saying unto them that "They could not tell what they did, and were not able to answer to their doings in that behalf; letting them to understand that she was the Queen's Majesty's prisoner, and no otherwise; advising them therefore to take heed, and beware of after claps!"
Whereunto, the Lord of Thame answered him in this wise, that "He was well advised of [in] his doings, being joined in Commission as well as he," adding with warrant, that "Her Grace might, and should, in his house, be merry."
After this, Sir HENRY went up into a chamber, where were appointed for Her Grace, a chair, two cushions, and a foot-carpet, very fair and prince-like; wherein presumptuously he sat, calling for BARWICK, his man, to pull off his boots: which as soon as it was known among the ladies and gentles, every one musing thereat, did laugh him to scorn; and observed his indiscreet manners in that behalf, as they might very well.
When supper was done, he called my Lord, and willed him that all the Gentlemen and Ladies should withdraw themselves; every one to his lodging: marvelling much that he would permit there such a company; considering so great a charge was committed to him.
"Sir HENRY!" quoth my Lord, "content yourself! All shall be voided, your men and all."
"Nay, my soldiers," quoth Sir HENRY, "shall watch all night."
The said Lord of Thame answered, "It shall not need."
"Well," said he, "need or need not, they shall do so," mistrusting, belike, the company; which, GOD knoweth, was without cause.
The next day [19th May] Her Grace took her journey from thence, to Woodstock; where she was enclosed, as before in the Tower of London; the soldiers guarding and warding both within and without the walls, every day to the number of three score, and, in the night, without the walls forty; during the time of her imprisonment there.
At length, she had gardens appointed for her walks, which were very comfortable to Her Grace. Always when she did recreate herself therein, the doors were fast locked up, in as straight a manner as they were in the Tower; there being at the least five or six locks between her lodging and her walks; Sir HENRY himself keeping the keys, trusted no man therewith.
Whereupon she called him "her gaoler:" and he, kneeling down, desired Her Grace not to call him so, for he was appointed there to be one of her Officers.
"From such Officers," quoth she, "good Lord, deliver me!"
* * * * *
And now, by way of digression, or rather of refreshing the reader (if it be lawful in so serious a story to recite a matter incident, and yet not impertinent to the same) occasion here moveth or rather enforceth me to touch briefly what happened in the same place and time, by a certain merry conceited man, being then about Her Grace. Who (noting the straight and strange keeping of his Lady and Mistress by the said Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD, with so many locks and doors, with such watch and ward about her, as was strange and wonderful) spied a goat in the ward where Her Grace was; and (whether to refresh her oppressed mind, or to notify her straight handling by Sir HENRY; or else both), he took it up on his neck, and followed Her Grace therewith, as she was going to her lodging. Who, when she saw it, asked him, "What he would do with him?" willing him to let it alone.
Unto whom, the said party answered, "No, by Saint Mary! if it like your Grace! will I not! For I cannot tell whether he be one of the Queen's friends or not. I will, GOD willing! carry him to Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD, to know what he is."
So, leaving Her Grace, went, with the goat on his neck, and carried it to Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD; who, when he saw him coming with it, asked him half angrily, "What he had there?"
Unto whom the party answered, saying, "Sir! I cannot tell what he is. I pray you, examine him! for I found him in the place where my Lady's Grace was walking, and what talk they have had, I cannot tell. For I understand him not, but he should seem to me to be some stranger: and I think verily a Welshman, for he hath a white frieze coat on his back. And forasmuch as I being the Queen's subject, and perceiving the strait charge committed to you of her keeping, that no stranger should have access to her, without sufficient license: I have here found a stranger (what he is, I cannot tell) in the place where Her Grace was walking; and, therefore, for the necessary discharge of my duty, I thought it good to bring the said stranger to you to examine, as you see cause." And so he set him down.
At which his words, Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD seemed much displeased, and said, "Well! well! you will never leave this gear, I see." And so they departed.
* * * * *
Now to return to the matter from whence we have digressed.
After Her Grace's being there a time [i.e., about a year], she made suit to the Council, that she might be suffered to write to the Queen; which, at last, was permitted to Her Grace. So that Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD brought her pen, ink, and paper; and standing by her, while she wrote, which he very straitly observed; always, she being weary, would carry away her letters, and bring them again when she called for them.
In the finishing thereof, he would have been messenger to the Queen of the same; whose request Her Grace denied, saying, "One of her own men should carry them; and that she would neither trust him, nor none of his thereabouts."
Then he answering again, said, "None of them durst be so bold," he trowed, "to carry her letters, being in her present case!"
"Yes," quoth she, "I am assured I have none so dishonest that would deny my request in that behalf; but will be as willing to serve me now as before."
"Well," said he, "my Commission is to the contrary; and may not suffer it."
Her Grace, replying again, said, "You charge me very often with your Commission! I pray GOD you may justly answer the cruel dealing ye deal with me!"
Then he kneeling down, desired Her Grace to think and consider how he was a servant, and put in trust there by the Queen to serve Her Majesty: protesting that if the case were hers, he would as willingly serve Her Grace, as now he did the Queen's Highness.
For the which answer, Her Grace thanked him, desiring GOD that she might never have need of such servants as he was: declaring further to him that his doings towards her were not good or answerable, but more than all the friends he had, would stand by; for in the end, she plainly told him, they would forsake him.
To whom, Sir HENRY replied, and said that "There was no remedy but his doings must be answered; and so they should, trusting to make a good account thereof."
The cause which moved Her Grace so to say, was for that he would not permit her letters to be carried, four or five days after the writing thereof. But, in fine, he was content to send for her Gentleman from the town of Woodstock, demanding of him, "Whether he durst enterprise the carriage of Her Grace's letters to the Queen or not?"
And he answered, "Yea, sir! That I dare, and will, with all my heart."
Whereupon, Sir HENRY, half against his stomach, took them to him, to the effect aforesaid.
* * * * *
Then, about the 8th of June [1555] came down Doctor OWEN and Doctor WENDIF, sent by the Queen to Her Grace, for that she was sickly; who ministering to her, and letting her blood, tarried there, and attended on Her Grace five or six days: who being well amended, they returned again to the Court, making their good report to the Queen and Council, of Her Grace's behaviour and humbleness towards the Queen's Highness; which Her Majesty hearing, took very thankfully. But the Bishops thereat repined, looked black in the mouth, and told the Queen, they "marvelled she submitted not herself to Her Majesty's mercy, considering that she had offended Her Highness."
Wily champions, ye may be sure! and friends at a need! GOD amend them!
* * * * *
About this time, Her Grace was requested by a secret friend, "to submit herself to the Queen's Majesty; which would be very well taken, and to her great quiet and commodity."
Unto whom, she answered that "She would never submit herself to them whom she had never offended! For," quoth she, "if I have offended, and am guilty; I then crave no mercy, but the law! which I am certain I should have had, ere this, if it could be proved by me. For I know myself, I thank GOD! to be out of the danger thereof, wishing that I were as clear out of the peril of my enemy; and then I am sure I should not be so locked and bolted up within walls and doors as I am. GOD give them a better mind! when it pleaseth Him."
About this time [i.e., after the Queen's marriage on 3rd July 1555] was there a great consulting among the Bishops and gentlemen, touching a marriage for Her Grace: which some of the Spaniards wished to be with some stranger, that she might go out of the realm with her portion. Some saying one thing, and some another.
A Lord [Lord PAGET] being there, at last said that "the King should never have any quiet common wealth in England; unless her head were stricken from the shoulders."
Whereunto the Spaniards answered, saying, "GOD forbid that their King and Master should have that mind to consent to such a mischief!" This was the courteous answer of the Spaniards to the Englishmen speaking, after that sort, against their own country.
From that day, the Spaniards never left off their good persuasions to the King, that the like honour he should never obtain as he should in delivering the Lady ELIZABETH's Grace out of prison: whereby, at length, she was happily released from the same.
Here is a plain and evident example of the good nature and clemency of the King and his Councillors towards Her Grace. Praised be GOD therefore! who moved their hearts therein.
Then hereupon, she was sent for, shortly after, to come to Hampton Court.
* * * * *
In her imprisonment at Woodstock, these verses she wrote with her diamond, in a glass window.
Much suspected by me, Nothing proved can be, Quoth ELIZABETH the prisoner.
[In the Second Edition of his Actes,&c., published in 1570 under the fresh title of Ecclesiastical History, p. 2,294; JOHN FOX gives the following additional information of the Woodstock imprisonment.
And thus much touching the troubles of Lady ELIZABETH at Woodstock.
Whereunto this is more to be added, that during the same time the Lord [WILLIAMS] of Thame had laboured for the Queen, and became surety for her, to have her from Woodstock to his house, and had obtained grant thereof. But (through the procurement either of Master BEDINGFIELD, or by the doing of [the Bishop of] WINCHESTER, her mortal enemy), letters came over night, to the contrary: whereby her journey was stopped.
Thus, this worthy Lady, oppressed with continual sorrow, could not be permitted to have recourse to any friends she had; but still in the hands of her enemies, was left desolate, and utterly destitute of all that might refresh a doleful heart, fraught full of terror and thraldom. Whereupon no marvel, if she hearing, upon a time, out of her garden at Woodstock, a certain milkmaid singing pleasantly, wished herself to be a milkmaid, as she was: saying that "Her case was better, and life more merry than hers, in that state she was."]
* * * * *
Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD and his soldiers, with the Lord [WILLIAMS] of Thame, and Sir RALPH CHAMBERLAIN guarding and waiting upon her, the first night [July 1555] from Woodstock, she came to Rycot.
The next night to Master DORMER's; and so to Colebrook, where she lay all that night at the George. By the way, coming to the said Colebrook, certain of her gentlemen and yeomen, to the number of three score met Her Grace, much to all their comforts: which had not seen Her Grace of long season before, neither could: but were commanded, in the Queen's name, "immediately to depart the town," to Her Grace's no little heaviness and theirs, who could not be suffered once to speak with from them. So that night all her men were taken her, saving her Gentleman Usher, three gentlewomen, two Grooms, and one of her Wardrobe; the Soldiers watching and warding round-about the house, and she shut up close within her prison.
The next day Her Grace entered Hampton Court on the back side, unto the Prince's Lodgings. The doors being shut to her; and she, guarded with soldiers as before, lay there a fortnight at the least, ere ever any had recourse unto her.
* * * * *
At length, came the Lord WILLIAM HOWARD, who marvellously honourably used Her Grace: whereat she took much comfort, and requested him to be a means that she might speak with some of the Council.
To whom, not long after came the Bishop of WINCHESTER, the Lord of ARUNDEL, the Lord of SHREWSBURY, and Secretary PETRE; who, with great humility, humbled themselves to Her Grace.
She again likewise saluting them, said, "My Lords! I am glad to see you! For, methinks, I have been kept a great while from you, desolately alone. Wherefore I would desire you to be a means to the King's and Queen's Majesties, that I may be delivered from prison, wherein I have been kept a long space, as to you, my Lords, is not unknown!"
When she had spoken, STEPHEN GARDINER, the Bishop of WINCHESTER kneeled down, and requested that "She would submit herself to the Queen's Grace; and in so doing he had no doubt but that Her Majesty would be good unto her."
She made answer that "rather than she would do so, she would lie in prison all the days of her life:" adding that "she craved no mercy at Her Majesty's hand, but rather desired the law, if ever she did offend her Majesty in thought, word, or deed. And besides this, in yielding," quoth she, "I should speak against myself, and confess myself to be an offender, which I never was towards Her Majesty; by occasion whereof, the King and Queen, might ever hereafter conceive an ill opinion of me: and, therefore, I say, my Lords! it were better for me to lie in prison for the truth, than to be abroad and suspected of my Prince."
And so they departed, promising to declare her message to the Queen.
On the next day [July 1555] the Bishop of WINCHESTER came again unto Her Grace, and kneeling down, declared that "The Queen marvelled that she should so stoutly use herself, not confessing to have offended; so that it should seem the Queen's Majesty wrongfully to have imprisoned Her Grace."
"Nay," quoth my Lady ELIZABETH, "it may please her to punish me, as she thinketh good."
"Well," quoth GARDINER, "Her Majesty willeth me to tell you, that you must tell another tale ere that you be set at liberty."
Her Grace answered that "She had as lief be in prison with honesty and truth, as to be abroad suspected of Her Majesty. And this that I have said, I will stand to. For I will never belie myself!"
The Lord of WINCHESTER again kneeled down, and said, "Then your Grace hath the vantage of me and the other Lords, for your long and wrong imprisonment."
"What vantage I have," quoth she, "you know; taking GOD to record, I seek no vantage at your hands, for your so dealing with me. But GOD forgive you, and me also!"
With that, the rest kneeled, desiring Her Grace that "all might be forgotten," and so departed, she being fast locked up again.
A sevennight after [July 1555], the Queen's Majesty sent for Her Grace, at ten of the clock in the night, to speak with her. For she had not seen her in two years before. Yet for all that, she was amazed at the so sudden sending for, thinking it had been worse for her, than afterwards proved; and desired her gentlemen and gentlewomen to "pray for her! for that she could not tell whether ever she should see them again or not."
At which time, coming in with Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD and Mistress CLARENCIUS [p. 216], Her Grace was brought into the garden, unto a stairs' foot, that went into the Queen's Lodging; Her Grace's gentlewomen waiting upon her, her Gentleman Usher and his grooms going before with torches. Where her gentlemen and gentlewomen being all commanded to stay, saving one woman; Mistress CLARENCIUS conducted her to the Queen's bedchamber, where Her Majesty was.
At the sight of whom, Her Grace kneeled down, and desired GOD to "preserve Her Majesty! not mistrusting, but that she should try herself as true a subject towards Her Majesty as ever any did," and desired Her Majesty even so to judge of her; and said "she should not find her to the contrary; whatsoever false report otherwise had gone of her."
To whom, the Queen answered, "You will not confess your offence; but stand stoutly in your truth! I pray GOD! it may so fall out."
"If it do not," quoth she, "I request neither favour nor pardon at your Majesty's hands."
"Well," said the Queen, "you stiffly still persevere in your truth! Belike, you will not confess but that you have wrongly punished!"
"I must not say so, if it please your Majesty! to you!"
"Why, then," said the Queen, "belike you will to others."
"No, if it please your Majesty!" quoth she, "I have borne the burden, and must bear it. I humbly beseech your Majesty to have a good opinion of me, and to think me to be your true subject; not only from the beginning, hitherto; but for ever, as long as life lasteth."
And so they departed [separated], with very few comfortable words of the Queen in English. But what she said in Spanish, GOD knoweth! It is thought that King PHILIP was there, behind a cloth [tapestry], and not shewn; and that he shewed himself a very friend in that matter, &c.
Thus Her Grace departing, went to her lodging again; and the sevennight after, was released of Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD, "her gaoler," as she termed him, and his soldiers.
So Her Grace, set at liberty from imprisonment, went into the country, and had appointed to go with her, Sir THOMAS POPE, one of Queen MARY's Councillors; and one of her Gentleman Ushers, Master GAGE; and thus straitly was she looked to, all Queen MARY's time.
And this is the discourse of Her Highness's imprisonment.
* * * * *
Then there came to Lamheyre, Master JERNINGHAM, and NORRIS, Gentleman Usher, Queen MARY's men; who took away from Her Grace, Mistress ASHELEY to the Fleet, and three others of her gentlemen to the Tower; which thing was no little trouble to Her Grace, saying, that "she thought they would fetch all away at the end." But God be praised! shortly after was fetched away GARDINER, through the merciful providence of the LORD's goodness, by occasion of whose opportune decease [13th November, 1555] the life of this so excellent Prince that is the wealth of England, was preserved.
After the death of this GARDINER; followed the death also, and dropping away of others, her enemies; whereby, by little and little, her jeopardy decreased, fear diminished, hope of more comfort began to appear, as out of a dark cloud; and though as yet Her Grace had no full assurance of perfect safety, yet more gentle entertainment daily did grow unto her, till the same day, which took away the said Queen MARY, brought in the same her foresaid sister, Lady ELIZABETH in to the right of the Crown of England. Who, after so long restrainment, so great dangers escaped, such blusterous storms overblown, so many injuries digested and wrongs sustained: the mighty protection of our merciful GOD, to our no little safeguard, hath exalted and erected, out of thrall, to liberty; out of danger, to peace and rule; from dread, to dignity; from misery, to majesty; from mourning, to ruling; briefly, of a prisoner, hath made her a Prince; and hath placed her in her royal throne, being placed and proclaimed Queen with as many glad hearts of her subjects, as ever was any King or Queen in this realm before, or ever shall be (I think) hereafter.
In whose advancement, and this her princely governance, it cannot sufficiently be expressed what felicity and blessed happiness this realm hath received, in receiving her at the LORD's almighty and gracious hand. For as there have been divers Kings and Rulers over this realm, and I have read of some; yet could I never find in English Chronicles, the like that may be written of this our noble and worthy Queen, whose coming in was not only so calm, so joyful, so peaceable, without shedding of any blood; but also her reigning hitherto (reign now four years and more) hath been so quiet, that yet (the LORD have all the glory!) to this present day, her Sword is a virgin, spotted and polluted with no drop of blood.
In speaking whereof, I take not upon me the part of the Moral, or of the Divine Philosopher, to Judge of things done; but only keep me within the compass of an Historiographer, declaring what hath been before; and comparing things done, with things now present, the like whereof, as I said, is not to be found lightly in Chronicles before. And this, as I speak truly, so would I to be taken without flattery; to be left to our posterity, ad sempiternam clementiæ illius memoriam.
In commendation of which her clemency, I might also here add, how mildly Her Grace, after she was advanced to her Kingdom, did forgive the said Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD; suffering him, without molestation, to enjoy goods, life, lands, and liberty. But I let this pass.
* * * * *
Thus hast thou, gentle Reader! simply but truly described unto thee, the time, first, of the sorrowful adversity of this our most Sovereign Queen that now is; also, the miraculous preserving her in so many straights and distresses: which I thought here briefly to notify, the rather for that the wondrous works of the LORD ought not to be suppressed; and that also Her Majesty, and we her poor subjects likewise, having thereby a present matter always before our eyes, be admonished how much we are bound to His Divine majesty, and also to render thanks to Him condignly for the same.
¶ A compendious Register in metre, containing the names and patient sufferings of the members of Jesus Christ, and the tormented, and cruelly burned within England; since the death of our famous King, of immortal memory, +EDWARD+ the Sixth, to the entrance and beginning of the reign of our Sovereign and dearest Lady +ELIZABETH+, of England, France, and Ireland, Queen; Defender of the Faith; to whose Highness truly and properly appertaineth, next and immediately under GOD, the supreme power and authority of the Churches of England and Ireland. So be it.
Anno. 1559.
Apocalypse 7.
And one of the angels (saith Saint JOHN) spake, saying unto me, "What are they, which are arrayed in long white garments; and whence come they?" (before the people, before sealed by the angel). And I said unto him, "Lord, thou wottest!" And he said unto me, "These are they which came out of great tribulation; and washed their garments, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they in the presence of the Throne of GOD, and serve Him, day and night, in His Temple: and He that sitteth in the Throne will dwell among them."
To the Right Honourable Lord Parr, Marquis of Northampton; Thomas Price, your Lordship's daily Orator, wisheth continual increase of grace, concord, and consolation in Him that is, was, and is to come, even the First and the Last. Amen.
It may please your goodness, Honourable Lord! to receive in good part, the little labour of my pen: which, albeit the rudeness and quantity thereof procureth not to be dedicate[d] to so honourable a Personage; yet the matter itself is of such worthiness, as duly deserveth to be graven in gold. But who goeth about so finely to depict with APELLES's instrument, this said Register, thinking to exceed the rest? Not I! poor wretch! because I am assured that such a worthy work as thereof may be written, cannot, neither shall pass untouched among so many godly learned. But were it, that no man hereafter should, in more ample and learned manner, set forth the same; yet should my presumption (if I so meant) be turned to reproach: for this I believe, that they be in such sort registered in the Book of the Living, as passeth either pen, ink, or memory to declare.
This my simplicity and too bold attempt might move your Honour to conjecture in me much rudeness, or, at the least, might persuade me so to think: but that experience hath showed me the humility and gentleness of your long tried patience; the certain knowledge whereof hath pricked me forward in this my pretence. And being thereunto requested of a faithful brother and friend; I have, with more industry than learning, GOD knoweth! finished the same.
Which being, as I thought, brought to good end; I desired, according to the accustomed manner, to dedicate the same unto such [an] one, as would not contemn so simple a gift. And calling you to mind, Right Honourable Lord! I knew none more meet. First, because your knowledge in CHRIST teacheth you the same godly and virtuous life; which not only your Lordship, but all other Honourable, &c., ought to ensue. Secondly, because these late years, you have had good experience of the troubles and miseries of the faithful, which have patiently embraced in their arms, the comfortable, although painful, cross of CHRIST; which, in so great a number, is commonly not so plenteous as commendable. But what stand I praising this patience in them (which yet deserveth the same)? seeing the mighty GOD and His CHRIST hath prepared, from everlasting, for such, a glorious, rich and incomprehensible Crown of Felicity and continual comforts.
This my short and simple work, I commend and dedicate unto your Lordship! craving pardon at your hands, for this my too homely and rude enterprise: considering that albeit golden fruit were offered in pewter and by the hands of a simple man; yet is the fruit notwithstanding still precious, and neither abased by the pewter, nor the giver. Even so, Honourable Lord! though the verses be simple, and the giver unworthy: yet the fruit or matter is precious, comfortable and good.
The order to attain to the perfect understanding of my mind, in setting forth the same with figures and letters, shall largely appear in this book: which I have not only done to make plain unto your Honour, the year, month, and day; but also, to all others that hereafter shall read it. For that I do pretend [design], if GOD and favour will permit it, to use the same as common to the profit of all: for which cause, I have also placed a Preface to the Reader.
But that it may please your Honour, in respect of the premises, to extend your favourable assistance to the manifest setting forth of this short and simple work, to the glory of the great and mighty GOD, and to the comfort of Christians: I, as unworthy and too bold a suitor, most humbly craveth your Lordship's aid and supportation in the same; especially to bear [with] the rudeness of my unlearned style, which, alas, I lament.
But now ceasing to trouble your Lordship any longer, this shall be my continual prayer for you.
The wisdom of GOD direct your Honour! The mercy of GOD give you spiritual power! The HOLY GHOST guide and comfort you, with all fulness of consolation in CHRIST JESUS! Amen.
Your Lordship's daily orator, THOMAS BRICE.
#To the Gentle Reader,# #mercy and peace!#
May it please thee, gentle Reader, to take in good worth this short and simple Register, containing the names of divers, although not all, both men, women, and virgins, &c., who, for the profession of CHRIST their Captain, have been most miserably afflicted, tormented, and [im]prisoned; and, in fine, either died by some occasion in prison, or else erected [gone to heaven] in the charret [fiery chariot] of ELIAS, since the 4th day of February, 1555, to the 17th day of November, 1558, wherein (according to the determination of our most merciful Father) our long wished for and most noble Queen, ELIZABETH, was placed Governess and Queen, by general Proclamation; to the great comfort of all true English hearts.
This I commit to thy friendly acceptation and favourable scanning, gentle Reader, and albeit, I doubt not but some, of godly zeal, both wise and learned, will not neglect, hereafter, to set forth so worthy a work, namely, of the martyrdom and patient sufferings of CHRIST's elect Members; and also of the tyrannical tragedies of the unmerciful Ministers of SATAN: yet, at the request of a dear friend, to whom love and Nature hath linked me, I could not, without ingratitude, deny his lawful desire, attempting the same; also, rather because it might be manifest to the eyes of the world, and also put the learned, of godly zeal, in memory more amply to enlarge; and, at their good discretion, to set forth the same. Pardon my rudeness, therefore, I beseech thee! considering that will in the unable is to be esteemed. Look not upon the baseness of the metre! the true number whereof cannot easily be observed in such a gathering of names: but, with lifted eyes of the mind, meditate upon the omnipotent power of GOD! which hath given and wrought such constancy in His children, in these our days, that even in fiery flambes [flames] and terrible torments, they have not ceased to invocate and extol the name of their Creator, Redeemer, and Comforter, according to the saying of the cxlviii. Psalm, "Young men and maidens, old men and children" have set forth His worthy and excellent praise. So that the same just and righteous GOD, who, for our sins, corrected us, and gave us over into the hands of the most bloody and viperous generation, to be eaten like bread: hath now, of His mercy alone, "exalted the horn of His people." Therefore all His saints shall praise Him.
Farewell!
T. B.
#The manner how to understand the# #letters and figures.#
[A specimen of a Stanza of the Register as originally given by BRICE, will help the reader to understand the unnecessarily complicated form in which he put it; and also the following Instructions, which were omitted in subsequent impressions.
Three stanzas occupy each page of the original edition. They are printed like this.
+---+------------------------------------------------------------+---+ | 63| 1558. | C | | | March. |[+]| +---+------------------------------------------------------------+---+ | | | | | | | | | 28| When that JOHN DEWNESHE and HUGH FOXE, | | | |In Smithfield, cruel death sustained, | | | |As fixed foes to Romish rocks; | | | 28|And CUTHBERT SYMSON also slain. | | | |When these did worthily receive their death, | | | | We wished for our ELIZABETH. | | | | | | +---+------------------------------------------------------------+---+ | | | 7 | +---+ +---+
A comparison of this Stanza, with its fellow at page 167, will show our method of reproducing this text.]
* * * * *
In primus, the figures, which are always four in number, are placed in the middle of the two strykes [strokes, or rules], which go between the verses, within two short strikes; signify the year wherein those persons were slain under them contained.
And where you see a little cross, [+], on the outside of the outmost line, it signifieth the changing of the year [i.e., on the 25th March], as from 1554 to 1555; and in such manner.
The letters which stand in the little square place, on the right side of the book, signified the month wherein they died; and for the plainer understanding thereof I have used twelve letters, for the twelve months: that is, A, for January; B, for February; C, for March; D, for April; E, for May; F, for June; G, for July; H, for August; I, for September; K, for October; L, for November; M, for December.
But where one letter standeth in the little square place; and another is placed under it between the two lines before the verse be ended; it signified the changing of the month: so that the person or persons, where against the letter so changed doth stand, was put to death in that month which that letter doth signify.
And whereas, in the third Verse [or Stanza, p. 154], and nowhere else, there standeth figures on the right side, between the two lines; that giveth to understand that HUNTER, HIGBYE, PICKET, and KNIGHT, which are placed in one line, were burnt at three sundry days.
The figures which standeth in the little square place, on the left side of the book, is but the sum of the Verses. But those which stand between the two lines on the left side of the book, signified the day of the month, wherein that person or persons died, where against those figures stand.
The figures, which stand without both the lines, on the top of the right side, signifieth the folio or number of the sides; but the figures which stand underneath the nether strike, between the two lines, is the number of persons murdered on that side [i.e., of the page].
This is done, gentle Reader! that thou shouldest understand the year, month, and day wherein every person died; according to the knowledge that I have learned.
Also, in some places, where you shall see a name or names stand without figures; that signifieth the certain day to be unknown. Some, therefore, perchance, will judge much rashness in me to write with ignorance; to whom, with reverence, I answer, that as I received the names registered and gathered by a good gentleman: even so, at a friend's desire, I have put them in metre, in this little book, thinking that, by pleasantness of reading, and easiness [cheapness] of price, they might be the more largely blown and known.
For my desire is that all men should participate [in] this my travail: and were the author and inditing half so worthy as the matter; then would I most earnestly wish and desire that it might be conveyed and delivered to the Queen's Majesty's own hands. Wherein Her Grace might see, what unmerciful Ministers had charge over the poor sheep; who, wolfishly, at their wills, devoured the same: and, also, what ruin and decay of Her Grace's subjects (that might have been), they have brought to pass. Therein might Her Grace see, as in a glass, how that bloodthirsty generation, neither spared hore [hoary] headed and ancient age, which all men ought to honour; neither youth, nor middle age; neither wife, nor widow; young man, nor tender virgin. But like the unnatural eggs of ASTYAGES that tyrant, destroy, and spill the blood of all: besides stocking [putting in the stocks], racking [putting on the rack], and whipping of the younger sort; whom shame would not suffer to kill, as some are well enough known, and I am not altogether ignorant [of].
Should such tyrannical tragedies be kept one hour, from the hands of so noble and virtuous a Governess? whose princely and natural heart, I doubt not, should have occasion thereby to be, in both kinds, both heavy and joyful: heavy, for the innocent blood spilt; but joyful for the praises of her GOD, and that our GOD shall be honoured thereby, while the world doth endure. I doubt whether [doubt not but] Her Grace, inwardly wrapt up with PAUL and JOHN in divine science, will brast [burst] out and say, "O happy LATIMER! CRANMER! HOOPER! ROGERS! FARRER! TAYLOR! SAUNDERS! PHILPOT! CARDMAKER! BRADFORD! &c.; you members of CHRIST! you faithful Fathers and preaching Pastors! you, that have not defiled yourselves with abomination, but have washed your garments white in the blood of the Lamb! you, that in fiery torments, with STEPHEN, have called upon the name of your Redeemer, and so finished you lives! you that are now clothed in white garments of innocency, with crowns of consolation, and palms of victory in your hands, following the Lamb withersoever He goeth!" Or else, in anguish of soul, sighingly to say, "O thou tyrannous and unmerciful world! thou monstrous and unnatural generation! what devil inflamed thy mind such malicious mischief? to torment and shed the blood of such innocent livers, perfect preachers and worthy counsellors, learned ministers, diligent divines, perfect personages, and faithful shepherds. They were constant Confessors before, but thou (with the Roman Emperor) thoughtest to prevent the determination of GOD, in making them Martyrs, to be the sooner with their CHRIST, whom they so much talked of. O cruel NEROS! that could kill, through malice, such worthy men, as have often preached to our dear father [HENRY VIII.] and brother [EDWARD VI.] the everlasting gospel of GOD. Could neither honourable age, innocent single life, chaste matrimony, inviolate virginity, nor yet pity move you to cease shedding of blood! Alas, too much unnaturalness!"
Whether the sight of this simple book, I say, should bring to her Grace's natural heart, the passions of heaviness or joy, I doubt: but I think rather both.
Therefore, would to God! it were worthy to enter into the hands of so noble and natural a Princess and Queen; whom the LORD, of His eternal and foreseeing determination, hath now placed in this royal dignity: to the redress of such unnatural and bloody facts, as in this book are contained.
But forasmuch as some imperfection is, and may easily be in this Gathering; I commend it to thy goodness, gentle Reader! beseeching thee, not to be precise in perusing the day; for it may, that, either through my negligence, or [that of] some other writing [manuscript] before me, we may miss so narrow a mark.
Such as it is, I commend unto thee! only, judge well!
The Book to the Reader.
Peruse with patience, I thee pray! My simple style, and metre base. The works of GOD, with wisdom weigh! The force of Love, the strength of Grace.
Love causèd GOD, His grace to give, To such as should for Him be slain. Grace wrought in them, while they did live, For love, to love their CHRIST again.
Now Grace is of such strength and might, That nothing may the same withstand. Grace putteth death and hell to flight, And guides us to the Living Land.
The force of Love also is such, That fear and pain it doth expel; Love thinketh nothing over much; Love doth all earthly things excel.
Thus Love and Grace of GOD began To work in them, to do His will: These virtues' force wrought Love in man, That fear was past, their blood to spill.
+FINIS.+
The Register of the Martyrs.
[Never before did such doggerel verse carry so fearful a story as this. It is thought to have been useful to JOHN FOX, when at work on his Actes and Monumentes &c., 1563.
The following entries in the Stationers' Registers show that there were two simultaneous editions of this work, both surreptitiously produced in 1559.
RYCHARD ADAMS [see p. 172] for pryntinge The Regester of all them that ware burned without lycense was fined at vs. [= £2 10_s. now_]. OWYN ROGERS for printinge without lycense The Regester of all them that were burned was fyned at xxd.]
[Transcript &c., 1. p. 101, Ed. 1875.]
1555.
FEBRUARY When raging reign of tyrants stout, Causeless, did cruelly conspire To rend and root the Simple out, With furious force of sword and fire; When man and wife were put to death: We wished for our Queen ELIZABETH.
FEBRUARY 4 When ROGERS ruefully was brent; 8 When SAUNDERS did the like sustain; When faithful FARRAR forth was sent His life to lose, with grievous pain; 22 When constant HOOPER died the death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
FEBRUARY 9 When ROWLAND TAYLOR, that Divine, At Hadley, left this loathsome light; 24 When simple LAWRENCE, they did pine, 22 With HUNTER, HIGBY, PIGOT, and KNIGHT; 23 When CAUSUN, constantly, died the death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MARCH 5 When TOMKINS, tyranny did abide, Having his hand, with torchlight brent; 7 When LAWRENCE, WHITE, and DIGGELL died, With earnest zeal and good intent; 14 When WILLIAM FLOWER was put to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
APRIL 2 When AWCOCKE, in Newgate prisoner, His latter end, with joy, did make; 11 When JOHN WARREN and CARDMAKER, Kissed each other at the stake; 24 When MARCH, the Minister, was put to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE When WILLIAM COWLEY, for offence, 4 Was forthwith hanged at Charing Cross; Buried; then burned, of fond pretence; Thus carion carcass they did toss: When such insipients put men to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 10 When worthy WATTES, with constant cry, Continued in the flaming fire; 11 When SIMSON, HAWKES, and JOHN ARDLIE Did taste the tyrant's raging ire; 11 When CHAMBERLAINE was put to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 12 When blessed BUTTER and OSMANDE, With force of fire, to death were brent; 12 When SHITTERDUN, sir FRANKE, and BLANDE, 12 And HUMFREY MIDDLETON of Kent; 1 When MINGE, in Maidstone, took his death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY When BRADFORD, beautified with bliss, 1 With young JOHN LEAST, in Smithfield, died; When they, like brethren, both did kiss, And in the fire were truly tried; When tears were shed for BRADFORD's death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 12 When DIRICK HARMAN lost his life; 12 When LAUNDER, in their fume, they fried; 12 When they sent EVERSON from strife, With moody minds, and puffèd pride; 12 When WADE, at Dartford, died the death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 21 When RICHARD HOOKE, limbless and lame, At Chichester, did bear the cross; 22 When humble HALL, for CHRISTes name, Ensued the same, with worldly loss; 23 When JOAN POLLEY was burnt to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 23 When WILLIAM AILEWARDE, at Reading, In prison died of sickness sore; 23 When ABBES, which feigned a recanting Did wofully weep, and deplore; 23 When he, at Bury, was done to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
AUGUST 23 When DENLY died, at Uxbridge town, With constant care to CHRISTES cause; 23 When WARREN's widow yielded down Her flesh and blood, for holy laws; When she, at Stratford, died the death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
AUGUST 23 When LAURENCE, COLLIER, COKER, and STERE, At Canterbury, were causeless slain, 23 With HOPPER and WRIGHTE; Six in one fire, Converted flesh to earth again; 24 When ROGER CORRIAR was done to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
AUGUST 26 When TANKERFIELDE, at St. Albans, 26 And WILLIAM BAMFORD, spent his blood; When harmful hearts, as hard as stones, 30 Burnt ROBERT SMITH and STEPHEN HARWO[O]D; 29 When PATRICK PATTINGHAM died the death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
AUGUST 31 When JOHN NEWMAN, and THOMAS FUSSE, At Ware, and Walden, made their end; 30 When WILLIAM HAILES, for CHRIST JESUS, With breath and blood did still contend; 31 When he, at Barnet, was put to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
AUGUST 31 When SAMUELL did firmly fight, Till flesh and blood, to ashes went; 3 When constant COB, with faith upright, At Thetford, cruelly was brent: When these with joy did take their death; We wished for our ELIZABETH.
SEPTEMBER 2 When WILLIAM ALLEN, at Walsingham, For truth was tried in fiery flame; 3 When ROGER COOE, that good old man! Did lose his life, for CHRISTes name; When these, with others, were put to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
SEPTEMBER 6 When BRADBRIDGE, STRETER, and BURWARDE, 6 TUTTIE, and GEORGE PAINTER of Hyde, Unto their duty, had good regard; Wherefore in one fire, they were fried: When these, at Canterbury, took their death; We wished for our ELIZABETH.
SEPTEMBER When JOHN LESSE, prisoner in Newgate, 10 By sickness turned to earth and clay; When wicked men, with ire and hate, 13 Burnt THOMAS HEYWARDE, and GOREWAY; 13 When TINGLE, in Newgate, took his death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
SEPTEMBER 14 When RICHARD SMITH in Lollards' Tower; 15 ANDROWES and KYNG, by sickness, died; In fair fields they had their bower, Where earth and clay doth still abide: When they, in this wise, did die the death; We wished for our ELIZABETH.
SEPTEMBER 19 When GLOVER, and CORNELIUS Were fiercely brent at Coventry; 4 When WOLSEY and PIGOT, for CHRIST JESUS At Ely, felt like cruelty. 19 When the poor bewept Master GLOVER's death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
OCTOBER When learnèd RIDLEY, and LATIMER, 16 Without regard, were swiftly slain; When furious foes could not confer But with revenge and mortal pain. When these two Fathers were put to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
OCTOBER 13 When worthy WEB, and GEORGE ROPER, In ELIAS' car to heaven were sent; 13 Also when GREGORY PAINTER, The same straight path and voyage went; When they, at Canterbury, took their death; We wished for our ELIZABETH.
DECEMBER 7 When godly GORE in prison died, 14 And WISEMAN in the Lollards' Tower: 18 When Master PHILPOT, truly tried, Ended his life with peace and power; When he kissèd the chain, at his death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
1556.
JANUARY 27 When THOMAS WHITWELL, and BARTLET GREENE, 27 ANNIS FOSTER, JOAN LASHEFORDE, and BROUNE, 27 TUTSUN, and WINTER; these Seven were seen, In Smithfield, beat their enemies down; Even Flesh and Devil, World and Death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JANUARY 31 When JOHN LOWMAS and ANN ALBRIGHT, 31 JOAN SOALE, JOAN PAINTER, and ANNIS SNOD, In fire, with flesh and blood did fight; When tongues of tyrants laid on lode; When these, at once, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
FEBRUARY When two women in Ipswich town, 19 Joyfully did the fire embrace; When they sang out with cheerful sound, Their fixèd foes for to deface; When NORWICH NO-BODY put them to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MARCH 12 When constant CRANMER lost his life And held his hand into the fire; When streams of tears for him were rife, And yet did miss their just desire: When Popish power put him to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MARCH 24 When SPENCER and two brethren more, Were put to death at Salisbury; Ashes to earth did right restore, They being then joyful and merry: When these, with violence, were burnt to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
APRIL 2 When HULLIARDE, a Pastor pure, At Cambridge, did this life despise; 2 When HARTPOOLES death, they did procure To make his flesh a sacrifice; When JOAN BECHE, widow, was done to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
APRIL 10 When WILLIAM TIMMES, AMBROSE, and DRAKE, 10 SPURGE, SPURGE, and CAVELL duly died, Confessing that, for CHRISTes sake, They were content thus to be tried: 10 When[2]LONDON LITTLE-GRACE put them to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
APRIL 28 When lowly LISTER, NICOLL, and MASE, 28 JOHN HAMMON, SPENCER, and YREN also, At Colchester, in the Postern Place, Joyfully to their death did go; 5 When two, at Gloucester, were put to death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MAY When MARGARET ELIOT, being a maid, 13 After condemning, in prison died; 15 When lame LAVAROCKE, the fire assayed, 15 And blind APRICE with him was tried: When these two impotents were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MAY 16 When KATHERINE HUT did spend her blood 16 With two maids, ELIZABETH and JOAN; When they embraced both reed and wood, Trusting in CHRIST His death alone: When men unnatural drew these to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MAY 21 When two men and a sister dear, At Beccles were consumed to dust; 31 When WILLIAM SLECHE, constant and clear, In prison died, with hope and trust; When these, our brethren, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 6 When JOHN OSWOLD, and THOMAS REEDE, 6 HARLAND, MILWRIGHT, and EVINGTON; With blazing brands their blood did bleed As their brethren before had done. When tyranny drave these to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 20 When WHOD the Pastor, with THOMAS MILLES At Lewes, lost this mortal gain; Compassed with spears, and bloody bills, Unto the stake for to be slain: 23 When WILLIAM ADHERAL did die the death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 27 When JA[C]KSON, HOLYWEL, and WYE, 27 BOWIER, LAWRENCE, and ADDLINGTON; 27 When ROTH, SEARLES, LION, and HURST did die; 27 With whom, two women to death were done: When DORIFALL, with them, was put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 27 When THOMAS PARRET, prisoner, 30 And MARTIN HUNTE died in the King's Bench; When the young man at Leicester, And CLEMENT died, with filthy stench; 25 When CARELESS, so took his death: We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 16 When ASKUE, PALMER, and JOHN GWIN Were brent with force, at Newbury; Lamenting only for their sins, And in the LORD were full merry: When tyrants merciless, put these to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 18 When JOHN FORMAN, and mother TREE, At[3]Grenstede, cruelly were slain; 18 When THOMAS DUNGATE, to make up three, With them did pass from woe and pain: When these, with others, were put to death; We wished for our ELIZABETH.
AUGUST 20 When the weaver at Bristow died, And, at Derby, a wedded wife; When these with fiery flames were fried, For CHRISTes cause, losing their life; When many others were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
SEPTEMBER 24 When RAVENSDALE and two brethren more, To earthly ashes were consumed; 25 A godly glover would not adore Their filthy idol; whereat they fumed; When he, at Bristol, was put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
SEPTEMBER 26 When JOHN HORNE, with a woman wise, At Newton, under hedge were killed, Stretching their hands with lifted eyes, And so their years, in earth fulfilled; When these, with violence, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
SEPTEMBER When DUNSTON, CLARKE, and POTKIN's wife, WILLIAM FOSTER, and ARCHER also, In Canterbury, did lose their life By famishment; as the talk do go. When these, alas, thus took their death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
OCTOBER When three, within one castle died, And in the fields were layed to rest. When at Northampton, a man was tried Whether GOD or Mammon he loved best. When these, by tyranny, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
1557.
JANUARY 2 When THOMAS FINALL and his man, 2 FOSTER and three good members more, Were purgèd with their fiery fan At Canterbury, with torments sore. When they with cheerfulness took their death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JANUARY When two at Ashford, with cruelty, For CHRISTes cause, to death were brent; 2 When, not long after, two, at Wye, Suffered for CHRIST His Testament: When wily wolves put these to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
APRIL 2 When STANLY's wife, and ANNIS HYDE, STURTLE, RAMSEY, and JOHN LOTHESBY Were content, torments to abide, And took the same right patiently; When these, in Smithfield, were done to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MAY 2 When WILLIAM MORANT and STEVEN GRATWICK Refused, with falsehood to be beguiled, And for the same, were burnèd quick, With fury, in Saint George's Field; When these, with others were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 16 When JOAN BRADBRIDGE, and a blind maid, 16 APPELBY, ALLEN, and both their wives; 16 When MANNING's wife was not afraid, But all these Seven did lose their lives. When these, at Maidstone, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 19 When JOHN FISCOKE, PERDUE, and WHITE; 19 BARBARA, widow; and BENDEN's wife; 19 With these, WILSON's wife did firmly fight, And for their faith, all lost their life; When these, at Canterbury, died the death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 22 When WILLIAM MAINARDE, his maid and man; 22 MARGERY MORIES, and her son; 22 DENIS, BURGES, STEVENS, and WO[O]DMAN; 22 GLOVE's wife, and ASHDON's, to death were done; When one fire, at Lewes, brought to them death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY When AMBROSE died in Maidstone Gaol, And so set free from tyrant's hands; 2 When SIMON MILNER they did assail, 2 Having him, and a woman in bands; When these, at Norwich, were done to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 2 When ten, at Colchester, in one day, Were fried with fire, of tyrants stout; Not once permitted truth to say, But were compassed with bills about: When these, with others, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 2 When GEORGE EGLES, at Chelmsford town, Was hangèd, drawn, and quarterèd; His quarters carried up and down, And on a pole they set his head. When wrestèd law put him to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 5 When THURSTON's wife, at Chichester, 5 And BOURNER's wife, with her also; 20 When two women at Rochester, 20 With father FRIER were sent from woe: 23 When one, at Norwich, did die the death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
AUGUST 10 When JOYCE BOWES, at Lichfield died, Continuing constant in the fire; When fixèd faith was truly tried, Having her just and long desire. When she, with others were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
AUGUST 17 When RICHARD ROOTH and RALPH GLAITON, 17 With JAMES AUSCOO and his wife Were brent with force at Islington, Ending this short and sinful life; When they with cheerfulness, did take their death; We wished for our ELIZABETH.
OCTOBER 18 When SPARROW, GIBSON, and HOLLINGDAY, In Smithfield, did the stake embrace; When fire converted flesh to clay, They being joyful of such grace: When lawless liberty put them to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
DECEMBER 22 When JOHN ROUGHE, a Minister meek, 22 And MARGARET MERING, with courage died: Because CHRIST only they did seek, With fire of force, they must be fried; When these, in Smithfield, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
1558.
MARCH 28 When that JOHN DEWNESHE and HUGH FOXE, In Smithfield, cruel death sustained, As fixèd foes to Romish rocks; 28 And CUTHBERT SYMSON also slain. When these did worthily receive their death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MARCH When DALE deceased in Bury gaol, According to GOD's ordinance; When widow THURSTON they did assail; And brought ANN BONGER to Death's Dance; When these, at Colchester, were done to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
APRIL 9 When WILLIAM NICOLL, in Ha[ve]rfor[d]west, Was trièd with their fiery fire: 20 When SYMON fought against the best, 20 With GLOVER, and THOMAS CARMAN; When these, at Norwich, did die the death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
MAY 26 When WILLIAM HARRIS, and RICHARD DAY; 26 And CHRISTIAN GEORGE with them was brent: Holding their enemies at a bay Till life was lost, and breath all spent; When these, at Colchester, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE 27 When SOUTHAN, LAUNDER, and RICARBIE; 27 HOLLYDAY, HOLLANDE, PONDE, and FLOOD, With cheerful look and constant cry, 27 For CHRISTes cause, did spend their blood: When these in Smithfield were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JUNE When THOMAS TYLER passed this place; And MATTHEW WITHERS also died. Though suit were much, yet little grace Among the Rulers could be spied: In prison, patiently, they took their death, We wishing for ELIZABETH.
JULY 10 When RICHARD YEMAN, Minister, At Norwich, did his life forsake; 19 When Master BENBRIKE, at Winchester, A lively sacrifice did make. When these, with others, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
JULY 14 When WILLIAM PECKES, COTTON, and WREIGHT, The Popish power did sore invade; To Burning School, they were sent straight, 14 And with them went, constant JOHN SLADE: When these, at Brainford, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
NOVEMBER 4 When ALEXANDER GECHE was brent, 4 And with him ELIZABETH LAUNSON; When they with joy, did both consent To do as their brethren had done; When these, at Ipswich, were put to death, We wished for ELIZABETH.
NOVEMBER 5 When JOHN DAVY, and eke his brother, 5 With PHILIP HUMFREY kissed the cross; When they did comfort one another Against all fear, and worldy loss; When these, at Bury, were put to death, We wished for our ELIZABETH.
NOVEMBER When, last of all (to take their leave!), [11] At Canterbury, they did some consume, Who constantly to CHRIST did cleave; Therefore were fried with fiery fume: But, six days after these were put to death, GOD sent us our ELIZABETH!
Our wished wealth hath brought us peace. Our joy is full; our hope obtained; The blazing brands of fire do cease, The slaying sword also restrained. The simple sheep, preserved from death By our good Queen, ELIZABETH.
As Hope hath here obtained her prey, By GOD'S good will and Providence; So Trust doth truly look for stay, Through His heavenly influence, That great GOLIATH shall be put to death By our good Queen, ELIZABETH.
That GOD's true Word shall placèd be, The hungry souls, for to sustain; That Perfect Love and Unity Shall be set in their seat again: That no more good men shall be put to death; Seeing GOD hath sent ELIZABETH.
Pray we, therefore, both night and day, For Her Highness, as we be bound. O LORD, preserve this Branch of Bay! (And all her foes, with force confound) Here, long to live! and, after death, Receive our Queen, ELIZABETH!
Amen.
Apoc. 6. How long tarriest thou, O LORD, holy and true! to judge, and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth.
+FINIS.+
The wishes of the Wise, Which long to be at rest; To GOD, with lifted eyes, They call to be redressed.
* * * * *
When shall this time of travail cease Which we, with woe sustain? When shall the days of rest and peace, Return to us again?
When shall the mind be movèd right To leave this lusting life? When shall our motions and delight Be free from wrath and strife?
When shall the time of woful tears Be movèd unto mirth? When shall the aged, with grey hairs, Rejoice at children's birth?
When shall Jerusalem rejoice In Him, that is their King? And Sion's hill, with cheerful voice, Sing psalms with triumphing?
When shall the walls erected be, That foes, with fury, 'fray? When shall that perfect Olive Tree, Give odour like the Bay?
When shall the Vineyard be restored, That beastly boars devour? When shall the people, late abhorred, Receive a quiet hour?
When shall the SPIRIT more fervent be, In us that want good will? When shall Thy mercies set us free From wickedness and ill?
When shall the serpents, that surmise To poison Thine Elect, Be bound to better exercise, Or utterly reject?
When shall the blood revengèd be, Which on the earth is shed? When shall sin and iniquity Be cast into the bed?
When shall that Man of Sin appear To be, even as he is? When shall thy babes and children dear Receive eternal bliss?
When shall that painted Whore of Rome Be cast unto the ground? When shall her children have their doom, Which virtue would confound?
When shall Thy Spouse, and Turtle Dove Be free from bitter blast? When shall Thy grace, our sins remove, With pardon at the last?
When shall this life translatèd be, From fortune's fickle fall? When shall True Faith and Equity Remain in general?
When shall Contention and Debate, For ever slack and cease? When shall the days of evil date, Be turnèd unto peace?
When shall True Dealing rule the rost With those that buy and sell; And Single Mind, in every coast, Among us bide and dwell?
When shall our minds wholly convert From wealth, and worldly gain? When shall the movings of our heart From wickedness refrain?
When shall this flesh return to dust, From whence the same did spring? When shall the trial of our trust Appearing with triumphing?
When shall the Trump blow out his blast, And thy dear babes revive? When shall the Whore be headlong cast, That sought us to deprive?
When shall Thy CHRIST, our King, appear With power and renown? When shall Thy saints, that suffer here, Receive their promised crown?
When shall the faithful, firmly stand? Before Thy face to dwell; When shall Thy foes, at Thy left hand, Be cast into the hell?
* * * * *
Apoca. 22.
Come, +LORD JESU!+
T. B.
Imprinted at London, by John Kingston for Richard Adams.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] BONNER.
[3] Grinstead.
The winning of Calais by the French, January 1558 A.D.
There is but little doubt that the gross negligence whereby Calais was lost to us, was but the natural outcome of the national demoralization occasioned by the public administration of Queen MARY; which placed all Laymen at the mercy of the Spiritualty, and all Englishmen at the command of the Spaniard. Looking back, all now acknowledge that the loss of Calais was a gain to England, as well as to France: but for a time, it did sting Englishmen to the quick; and that, all the more, seeing it was lost in a war in which we were only fighting PHILIP's battles, and had no real concern ourselves.
We here group the following Eye Witness reports, accounts, &c., of the loss of the English Pale in France.
PAGE
+CALAIS.+ G. FERRERS, General Narrative of the Recapture 173 Lord WENTWORTH and the Council at Calais. Letter to Queen MARY, 23 May 1557 186 Lords WENTWORTH and GREY and the Council at Calais. Report to Queen MARY, 27 Dec. 1557 187 Lord WENTWORTH. Letter to Queen MARY, 1 January 1558; 9 p.m. 190 Lord WENTWORTH. Letter to Queen MARY, 2 January 1558; 10 p.m. 192 J. HIGHFIELD. Narrative of the Capture of Calais, [March 1558] 196 J. FOX. Mistress THORPE's escape at Calais 202
+GUISNES.+ Lord GREY, Governor at Guisnes. Letter to Queen MARY, 4 January 1558; 7 a.m. 203 T. CHURCHYARD. Share in, and Account of, the siege of Guisnes, 11-22 January 1558 205
+GEORGE FERRERS+, the Poet.
General Narrative of the Recapture.
[GRAFTON'S Chronicle. 1569.]
JOHN STOW, in his Annals, p. 1070, Ed. 1600, referring to this recapture, says, "Whereof Master GEORGE FERRERS hath written at large: for he collected the whole history of Queen MARY, as the same is set down, under the name of RICHARD GRAFTON."
It is clear from UNDERHILL's narrative at p. 90, that his friend FERRERS, who had been Lord of Misrule under EDWARD VI., was a Protestant.
* * * * *
For if ought were won by the having of St. Quentin, England got nothing at all; for the gain thereof came only to King PHILIP: but the loss of Calais, Hammes, and Guisnes, with all the country on that side of the sea, which followed soon after, was such a buffet to England as [had] not happened in more than an hundred years before; and a dishonour wherewith this realm shall be blotted until GOD shall give power to redubbe it with some like requital to the French.
At this time, although open hostility and war were between England and France, yet, contrary to the ancient custom afore used, the town of Calais and the forts thereabouts were not supplied with any new accrues [reinforcements] of soldiers; which negligence was not unknown to the enemy, who, long before, had practised [plotted] the winning of the said town and country. The French King therefore (being sharply nettled with the late loss of St. Quentin and a great piece of his country adjoining, and desirous of revenge) thought it not meet to let slip this occasion; and having presently a full army in a readiness to employ where most advantage should appear, determined to put in proof, with all speed, the enterprise of Calais; which long, and many times before, was purposed upon.
This practice [design] was not so secret but that the Deputies of Calais and Guisnes had some intelligence thereof; and informed the Queen [MARY] and her Council accordingly: nevertheless, either by wilful negligence there, or lack of credit by the Queen's Council here, this great case was so slenderly regarded as no provision of defence was made until it was somewhat too late.
The Duke of GUISE [known as, Le Balafré], being General of the French army, proceeded in this enterprise with marvellous policy. For approaching the English frontier [known in our history as the English Pale], under colour to victual Boulogne and Ardes; he entered upon the same, on a sudden [on 1st January, 1558]; and took a little bulwark [fortification] called Sandgate, by assault. He then divided his army into two parts, sending one part with certain great pieces of artillery along the downs [sandhills] by the seaside towards Risbank [or Ruisbank, a detached fort in Calais harbour. See Vol. II. p. 39]; and the other part, furnished also with battery pieces, marched straight forth to Newnham [or Newhaven] Bridge: meaning to batter the two forts, both at one time. Which thing he did with such celerity, that coming thither very late in the evening, he was master of both by the next morning.
At the first shot discharged at Newnham Bridge, the head of the Master Gunner of that piece [fort], whose name was HORSELEY, was clean stricken off. The Captain [NICHOLAS ALEXANDER] considering the great power of the French army; and having his fort but slenderly manned to make sufficient resistance, fled to Calais. And by the time he was come thither, the other part of the French army that went by the seaside, with their battery, had won Risbank; being abandoned [by Captain JOHN HARLESTONE] to their hands.
The next day [2nd of January], the Frenchmen, with five double-cannons and three culverins, began a battery from the sandhills next Risbank, against the town of Calais; and continued the same, by the space of two or three days, until they made a little breach in the wall next unto the Water Gate, which, nevertheless, was not yet assaultable: for that which was broken in the day, was by them within the town made up again in the night, stronger than afore. But the battery was not begun there by the French because they intended to enter in that place; but rather to abuse [deceive] the English, to have the less regard to the defence of the Castle: which was the weakest part of the town, and the place where they were we ascertained, by their espials, to win an easy entry.
So that while our people travailed fondly to defend that counterfeit breach of the town wall, the Duke had in the mean season, planted fifteen double-cannons against the Castle. Which Castle being considered by the Rulers of the town to be of no such force as might resist the battery of cannon, by reason that it was old, and without any rampires [ramparts]; it was devised to make a train with certain barrels of powder to this purpose, that when the Frenchmen should enter, as they well knew, that there they would, to have fired the said train, and blown up the Keep: and for that purpose left never a man within to defend it. But the Frenchmen, at their entry, espied the train, and so avoided the same. So that the device came to no purpose; and, without any resistance, they entered the Castle; and thought to have entered the town by that way.
But [on the 6th of January] by the prowess and hardy courage of Sir ANTHONY AGER [AUCHER], Knight [see Vol. I., pp. 33, 36], and Marshal of the Town, with his soldiers, they were repulsed and driven back again into the Castle: and followed so hard after, that our men forced them to close and shut the Castle gate for their surety, lest it should have been recovered against them. As it was once attempted [p. 199] by Sir ANTHONY AGER: who there, with his son and heir, and a Pursuivant at Arms called CALAIS, and divers others, to the number of fifteen or sixteen Englishmen, lost their lives.
The same night, after the recule [retreat] of the Frenchmen, whose number so increased in the Castle, that the town was not able to resist their force; the Lord WENTWORTH, Deputy of Calais, sent a Pursuivant called GUISNES, unto the Duke of GUISE, requiring composition; which, after long debate, was agreed to, upon this sort.
First. That the town, with all the great artillery, victuals and munition, should be freely yielded to the French King.
The lives of the inhabitants only saved; to whom safe conduct should be granted, to pass where they listed.
Saving the Lord Deputy, with fifty others, such as the Duke should appoint, to remain prisoners; and be put to their ransom.
The next morning [7th of January], the Frenchmen entered and possessed the Town: and forthwith all the men, women, and children, were commanded to leave their houses, and to go into the two churches, of Our Lady, and Saint Nicholas; upon pain of death. Where they remained a great part of that day, and one whole night, and until three o'clock at afternoon the next day [8th]: without either meat or drink.
And while they were thus in the churches, the Duke of GUISE, in the name of the French King, in their hearing, made a Proclamation straitly charging and commanding all and every person that were inhabitants of the Town of Calais, having about them any money, plate, or jewels to the value of [but] one groat [4_d._] to bring the same forthwith, and lay it down on the high altars of the said churches, upon pain of death: bearing them in hand [inducing them to think] also that they should be searched.
By reason of which Proclamation, there was made a great and sorrowful Offertory. And while they were at this offering within the churches, the Frenchmen entered into their houses, and rifled the same; where was found inestimable riches and treasure, but specially of ordnance, armour, and other munition.
About two o'clock, the next day at afternoon, being the 7th of January; all the Englishmen, except the Lord Deputy and the others reserved for prisoners, were suffered to pass out of the town in safety; being guarded through the army by a number of Scottish Light Horsemen.
There were in this town of Calais, 500 English soldiers ordinarily, and no more: and of the townsmen, not fully 200 fighting men: a small garrison for the defence of such a town! And there were in the whole number of men, women, and children, as they were counted when they went out of the gate, 4,200 persons.
But the Lord WENTWORTH, Deputy of Calais; Sir RALPH CHAMBERLAIN, Captain of the Castle; [JOHN] HARLESTONE, Captain of Risbank; NICHOLAS ALEXANDER, Captain of Newn[h]ambridge; EDWARD GRIMSTONE, Controller; with others of the chief of the town, to the number of fifty, as aforesaid, such as it pleased the Duke of GUISE to appoint, were sent prisoners into France.
* * * * *
Thus have ye heard the discourse of the Overthrow and Loss of the Town of Calais; the which enterprise was begun and ended in less than eight days, to the great marvel of the world, that a town of such strength, and so well furnished of all things as that was, should so suddenly be taken and conquered: but most specially, in the winter season; what time all the country about, being marsh ground, is commonly overflown with water.
The said town was won from the French by King EDWARD III. in the time of PHILIP DE VALOIS, then French King: and, being in the possession of the Kings of England, 211 years; was, in the time of PHILIP and MARY, King and Queen of England, lost within less than eight days being the most notable fort that England had.
For the winning whereof, King EDWARD aforesaid, in the 21st year of his reign [1346], was fain to continue a siege one whole year or more: wherefore it was judged of all men, that it could not have so come to pass, without some secret treachery.
Here is also to be noted, that when Queen MARY and her Council heard, credibly, of the Frenchmen's sudden approach to that town; she, with all possible speed, but somewhat too late, raised a great power for the rescue thereof: which, if wind and weather had served, might, haply, have brought succour thither in time. But such terrible tempests then arose, and continued the space of four or five days together, that the like had not been seen before in the remembrance of man; wherefore some said "That the same was done by necromancy, and that the Devil was raised up, and become French:" the truth whereof is known to GOD. But very true it is that no ship could brook the seas, by reason of those extreme storms and tempests. And such of the Queen's ships as did adventure the passage, were so shaken and torn, with the violence of the weather; as they were forced to return with great danger, and the loss of all their tackle and furniture.
Thus by the negligence of the Council at home, conspiracy of traitors elsewhere, force and false practice of enemies, helped by the rage of most terrible tempests of contrary winds and weather; this famous Fort of Calais was brought again to the hands and possession of the French.
* * * * *
So soon as this Duke of GUISE, contrary to all expectation, had, in a few days, gained this strong town of Calais, afore thought impregnable, and had put the same in such order as best seemed for his advantage: proud of the spoil, and pressing forward upon his sudden fortune, without giving long time to the residue of the Captains of the forts there to breathe on their business; the 13th of the same month, with all provision requisite for a siege, he marched with his army from Calais into the town and fort of Guisnes, five miles distant from thence.
Of which town and castle, at the same time, there was as Captain, a valiant Baron of England, called WILLIAM, Lord GREY of Wilton [See Vol. III. p. 76]: who, not without cause suspecting a siege at hand; and knowing the town of Guisnes to be of small force (as being without walls or bulwarks, and only compassed with a trench), before the Frenchmen's arrival, caused all the inhabitants of the town to advoid [depart]; and so many of them as were apt to bear arms, he caused to retire into the Castle. Which was a place well fortified, with strong and massy Bulwarks [redoubts or batteries] of brick: having also a high and mighty tower, of great force and strength, called the Keep.
The town being thus abandoned, the Frenchman had the more easy approach to the Castle; who, thinking to find quiet lodging in those vacant houses, entered the same without any fear: and being that night, at their rest as they thought, a chosen band of soldiers, appointed by Lord GREY, issued out by a postern of the said Castle, and slew no small number of their sleepy guests. The rest, they put out of their new lodgings; and (maugre the Duke and all the French power) consumed all the houses of the town with fire. That notwithstanding, the said Duke, with all diligence, began his trenches: and albeit the shot of the great artillery from the Castle was terrible, and gave him great impeachment; yet did he continue his work without intermission, and, for example's sake, wrought in his own person as a common pioneer or labourer. So that, within less than three days, he brought, to the number of thirty-five battery pieces, hard to the brim [edge] of the Castle ditch, to batter the same on all sides, as well right forth as across. But his principal battery, he planted against the strongest bulwark of all, called Mary Bulwark [a detached fort]; thinking by gaining of the stronger, to come more easily by the weaker.
His battery being thus begun, he continued the same by the space of two days, with such terrible thundering of great artillery, that, by the report of [F. DE] RABUTIN a French writer, there were, in those few days, discharged well near to the number of 8,000 or 9,000 cannon shot.
Through the violence whereof, by the 20th of the said month, the said great Bulwark was laid wide open, and the breach made reasonable and easy enough for the assault; nevertheless, the said Duke (being a man of war, and nothing ignorant of what devices be commonly used in forts and besieged towns to entrap and damage the assailants) afore he would put the persons of his good soldiers to the hazard of the assault, caused the breach to be viewed once or twice by certain forward and skilful soldiers; who, mounting the top of the breach, brought report that the place was saultable [assaultable]. Nevertheless, to make the climb more easy; he caused certain harquebussiers to pass over the ditch, and to keep the defendants occupied with shot, while certain pioneers with mattocks and shovels, made the breach more plain and easy. [See CHURCHYARD's account of this assault at p. 209. He was one of the defenders.]
Which thing done accordingly, he gave order to Monsieur D'ANDELOT, Colonel of the French Footmen, that he, with his Bands, should be in readiness to give the assault, when sign should be given.
In which meantime, the Duke withdrew himself to an higher ground; from whence he might plainly discover the behaviour as well of his soldiers in giving the assault, as also of the defendants in answering the same. And not perceiving so many of the English part appearing for the defence, as he looked for; he gave order forthwith, that a regiment of his most forward Lance Knights [the Reiters] should mount the breach to open the first passage, and that Monsieur D'ANDELOT with his Bands of the French, should back them.
Which order was followed with such hot haste and desperate hardiness, that, entering a deep ditch full of water, from the bottom whereof to the top of the breach was well forty feet, without fear either of the water beneath or the fire above, they mounted the breach: and whereas the Duke had prepared divers bridges made of plank-boards, borne up with caske and empty pipes [i.e., barrels of the size of a Pipe] tied one to another, for his men to pass the said ditch; many of the said assailants, without care of those bridges, plunged into the water, and took the next way to come to the assault.
Which hot haste notwithstanding, the said assailants were, in this first assault, so stoutly repulsed and put back by the defendants, being furnished with great store of wild fire and fricassees for the purpose, that they were turned down headlong, one upon another, much faster than they came up: not without great waste and slaughter of their best and most brave soldiers; to the small comfort of the stout Duke, who, as is said before, stood, all this while, upon a little hill to behold this business. Wherefore, not enduring this sight any longer, as a man arraged [enraged], he ran among his men; so reproving some and encouraging others, that the assault was foot hot renewed with much more vehemence and fury than before: and with no less obstinacy and desperation received by the defendants; whereby all the breach underneath was filled with French carcases.
This notwithstanding, the Duke still redoubled his forces with fresh companies; and continued so many assaults, one upon another, that at the last charge, being most vehement of all others, our men being tired, and greatly minished in the number by slaughter and bloody wounds, were, of fine [sheer] force, driven to avoid, and give place of entry to the enemy.
Which was not done without a marvellous expense of blood, on both sides. For, of the French part, there were slain and perished in these assaults, above the number of 800 or 900 [CHURCHYARD says, at p. 214, 4,000]: and of the English, but little fewer [800, p. 214]; amongst whom the greatest loss lighted on the Spaniards, who took upon them the defence of the said Mary Bulwark: insomuch, as the report went, that of the 500 [or rather 450; whereof but 50 were Spaniards, the rest English and Burgundians, see p. 209] brave soldiers which King PHILIP sent thither for succour, under the conduct of a valiant Spanish Captain, called MOUNT DRAGON, there were not known to have come away any number worth the reckoning, but all were either slain, maimed or taken.
These outrageous assaults were given to the Castle of Guisnes, on St. Sebastian's day, the 20th of January aforesaid.
At the end of which day, there were also gained from the English, two other principal Bulwarks of the said Castle; which, being likewise made assaultable by battery, were taken by the Almains [? Swiss], who entered in by the breaches.
The Lord GREY, with his eldest son, and the chief Captains and soldiers of the said garrison, who kept the Inner Ward of the Castle, where the most high and principal Tower, called the Keep, stood; thinking themselves in small surety there (being a place of the old sort of fortification) after they saw the Utter Ward possessed by the enemy, and such a number of the most forward soldiers consumed and spent; and no likelihood of any more aid to come in time: by the advice of the most expert soldiers there, concluded for the best, to treat with the Duke for composition: according to the which advice, he sent forth two gentlemen, with this message in effect. That
the Duke (being a man of war, and serving under a King) should not think it strange if the Lord GREY likewise (being a man of war, and serving his Prince, in manner) did his like deavour [endeavour] in well defending the place committed to his charge, so far forth, as to answer and bide the assault; considering that otherwise, he could never save his own honour, neither his truth and loyalty to his Prince. In respect whereof, according to the law of arms, he required honourable composition.
Which message, though it was well accepted of the Duke; yet he deferred his answer until the morrow. What [At which] time, the messengers repairing to him again, composition was granted in this sort.
First. That the Castle with all the furniture thereof, as well victuals as great artillery, powder, and other munitions of war, should be wholly rendered; without wasting, hiding, or minishment thereof.
Secondarily. That the Lord GREY, with all the Captains, Officers, and others having charge there, should remain prisoners, at the Duke's pleasure; to be ransomed after the manner of war.
Thirdly. That all the rest, as well soldiers as others, should safely depart, with their armour and baggage to what parts, it seemed them best: nevertheless, to pass, without sound of drum or trumpet, or displaying of an ensigns [flags]; but to leave them behind.
These conditions being received and approved on either party, the day following, that is to wit, the 22nd day of the said month of January, all the soldiers of the said fortress, as well English as strangers, with all the rest of the inhabitants and others (except the Lord GREY, Sir ARTHUR his son, Sir HENRY PALMER Knight, MOUNT DRAGON the above named Captain of the Spaniards, and other men of charge reserved by the Composition) departed, with their bag and baggages, from thence, towards Flanders. At whose issuing forth, there was esteemed [estimated] to the number of 800 or 900 able men for the war: part English, part Burgundians, with a small remnant of Spaniards.
After the winning of this town and Castle, the Duke, advising well upon the place, and considering that if it should happen to be regained by Englishmen, what a noisome neighbour the same might be to Calais, now being French; and specially what impeachment should come thereby for the passage thither from France; considering also the near standing thereof to the French King's fortress of Ardes, so that to keep two garrisons so nigh together should be but a double charge, and not only needless, but also dangerous, for the cause afore rehearsed: upon these considerations, as the Frenchmen write, he took order for all the great artillery, victuals, and other munition to be taken forth; and the Castle, with all the Bulwarks and other fortifications there, to be razed and thrown down, with all speed, and the stuff to be carried away, and employed in other more necessary places.
Then there rested nothing, within all the English Pale on that side, unconquered, but the little Castle or Pile called Hammes: which, though it were but of small force, made by art and industry of man's hand, and altogether of old workmanship, without rampiers [ramparts] or Bulwarks [redoubts]; yet, nevertheless, by the natural situation thereof, being environed on all sides, with fens and marsh grounds, it could not easily be approached unto: either with great ordnance for the battery, or else with an army to encamp there, for a siege; having but one straight passage thereto by a narrow causey [causeway], traversed and cut through, in divers places, with deep ditches always full of water. Which thing, being well foreseen by EDWARD Lord DUDLEY, then Captain there, having as good cause to suspect a siege there as his neighbours, had, afore the Frenchmen's coming to Guisnes, caused all the bridges of the said causey, which were of wood, to be broken; to give thereby the more impeachment [obstacles] to the French, if they should attempt to approach the same; as, shortly after, they did, and kept divers of the passages.
But to deliver the Duke and his soldiers from that care, there came to him glad news from those that had charge to watch the same causey; how the Captain, having intelligence of the rendering of Guisnes, had conveyed himself with his small garrison, secretly, the same night [of the 22nd of January] by a secret passage over the marshes into Flanders. Whereby, the Duke, being now past care of any further siege to be laid in all that frontier, took order forthwith to seize the said little fort into his hands; as it was easy to do, when there was no resistance.
When this place was once seized by the French, then remained there none other place or strength of the English on all that side the sea, for the safeguard of the rest of the country: whereby the French King became wholly and thoroughly Lord and Master of all the English Pale: for now, as ye have heard, there was neither town, castle, or fortress, more or less, on that side (saving Bootes Bulwark, near to Gravelines; which now, [in 1568] King PHILIP keepeth as his); but it was either taken away by force, or else abandoned and left open to the enemy. And, as the Frenchmen write, besides the great riches of gold and silver coin, jewels, plate, wool, and other merchandise (which was inestimable [i.e., beyond reckoning]) there were found 300 pieces of brass, mounted on wheels, and as many pieces of iron: with such furniture of powder, pellets [bullets], armour, victuals, and other munitions of war, scarcely credible [see p. 250].
Thus have heard the whole discourse of the Conquest of the noble town of Calais with all the English fortresses and country adjoining, made by the Duke of GUISE. The news whereof, when it came to the French King: [there is] no need to ask how joyfully it was received! not only by him and all his Court, but also universally through the whole realm of France. For the which victory, there was, as the manner is, Te DEUM sung, and bonfires made everywhere, as it is wont to be in cases of common joy and gladness for some rare benefit of GOD. Shortly, upon this conquest, there was a public Assembly at Paris of all the Estates of France: who frankly (in recompense of the King's charges in winning Calais and the places aforesaid, and for maintenance of his wars to be continued afterwards) granted unto him 3,000,000 of French Crowns [= about £900,000 then = about £9,000,000 now]; whereof the clergy of France contributed 1,000,000 crowns besides their dîmes.
And no marvel though the French did highly rejoice at the recovery of Calais out of the Englishmen's hands! For it is constantly affirmed by many that be acquainted with the affairs of France, that ever since the town was first won by the Englishmen, in all solemn Councils appointed to treat upon the state of France, there was a special person appointed to put them in remembrance, from time to time, of Calais: as it were to be wished that the like were used in England until it were regained from the French.
Now seemed every day a year, to the French King, until he personally had visited Calais and his new conquered country. Wherefore, about the end of January, aforesaid, he took his voyage thither, accompanied with no small number of his nobility. And immediately upon his arrival there, he perused the whole town and every part thereof, from place to place: and devising with the Duke of GUISE for the better fortification thereof; what should be added to the old, what should be made new, and what should be taken away. And after order taken for that business; he placed there a noble and no less valiant Knight, called Monsieur DE THERMES, to be Captain of the town: and so departed again to France.
After the French King's departure from Calais, he made great haste for the accomplishment of the marriage moved between FRANCIS, his eldest son, called the Dauphin, and MARY STUART, daughter and sole heir of JAMES V., late King of Scotland: which Princess (if the Scots had been faithful of promise, as they seldom be) should have married with King EDWARD VI. For the breach of which promise, began all the war between England and Scotland, in the latter end of King HENRY VIII. and in the beginning of EDWARD VI. [See PATTEN's account of the Wooing, Vol. III. p. 51.]
This marriage (though it be not my matter) I thought not to omit; for many things were meant thereby, which, thanks be to GOD! never came to pass. But one special point was not hidden to the world, that, by the means of the same, the Realm of Scotland should, for evermore, have remained as united and incorporated to the Crown of France; that as the Son and Heir of every French King doth succeed to the inheritance and possession of a country, called the Doulphyn [Dauphiné], and is therefore called Doulphyn [Dauphin]; and as the Principality of Wales appertaineth to the Eldest Son of England, who is therefore called the Prince of WALES: even so, that the Dauphin and Heir of France should thereby have been King of Scotland, for evermore. Which name and title, upon this marriage, was accordingly given to FRANCIS the Dauphin and heir apparent of France, to be called "King Dauphin": the meaning whereof was, utterly to exclude for evermore any to be King of Scotland, but only the Eldest Son of France.
This memorable marriage was solemnized in the city of Paris, the 24th day of April, 1558, with most magnificent pomp and triumph.
Lord +WENTWORTH+, the Lord Deputy of Calais, and the Council there. Letter to Queen MARY, 23rd May, 1557.
[State Papers. Foreign, MARY, Vol. X. No. 615. In Public Record Office.]
It may please your Highness to understand that, where upon circumspect consideration and view of your Majesty's store here of munition and other habiliments of war, there is presently [at this moment] found not only a great want of many kinds thereof, but also such a decay in divers other things as the same are not serviceable, and will be utterly lost if they be not with speed repaired and put in better estate; as this bearer, Master HIGHFIELD, Master of your Ordnance here [p. 196], can declare more amply the particularities thereof, either unto your Majesty, or unto such of your Council as shall please your Highness to direct him: we have thought it our bounden duties to be most humble suitors to your Majesty, that it would please the same to give immediate order, as well for the supplement of the said lacks, as also for your warrant to be addressed hither, for the repairing of all other things requisite to be done within his office.
And thus we continually pray Almighty GOD for the long preservation of your Highness in most prosperous estate.
From your town of Calais, the 23rd of May, 1557.
Your Majesty's Most humble bounden and obedient subjects and servants,
WENTWORTH, WILLIAM GREY, RALPH CHAMBERLAIN, A. CORNWALLIS, EDWARD GRYMSTONE, EUSTACE HOBYNTON.
Lords +WENTWORTH+ and +GREY+, and the Council at Calais.
Report to Queen MARY, 27th December, 1557.
[State Papers. Foreign, MARY, Vol. XI. No. 698.
Our bounden duties most humbly remembered unto your Highness. Upon the receipt of the intelligences sent unto your Majesty this other day, from me your Grace's Deputy; I forthwith dispatched to my Lord GREY [at Guisnes], requiring his Lordship to repair to this town, that we might consult of the state of your Highness's places and country on this side.
So his Lordship coming hither, we have conferred together our several intelligences: and finding the same in effect to agree, it hath very much augmented our suspicion that this train [design] now meant by the enemy, should be made towards your Highness's country or pieces. Whereupon we, all together, have considered the state of the same; and said our opinions therein, as it may appear unto your Highness by these articles which we send herewith to your Majesty, which we have thought our duties to signify unto you. Most humbly beseeching your Highness to return unto us your pleasure therein.
So, we pray JESU, grant your Majesty long and prosperous reign.
At your town of Calais, 27th December, 1557.
Your Highness's, &c.
Our Consultation, made the 27th December, 1557.
+GUISNES.+
First. Having no supplement of men other than is presently there, we think it meetest, if the enemy should give the attempt, to abandon the Town (which could not be, without very great danger of the Castle); and defend the Turnpike, which is of the more importance, because that way only, in necessity, the relief to the Castle is to be looked for.
Item. There is great want of wheat, butter, cheese, and other victuals.
Item. It is requisite to have some men of estimation and service to be there [i.e., at Guisnes], that might be able to take the charge in hand; if either sickness or other accident should fortune to me the Lord GREY: which I, the said Lord GREY the rather require, by reason of Sir HENRY PALMER's hurt; being of any other person at this present utterly unfurnished.
+HAMPNES CASTLE.+
Item. We think the same sufficiently furnished of men for the sudden; albeit this hard and frosty weather, if it continue, will give the enemy great advantage: yet we put in as much water as is possible.
Of victuals, that place is utterly unprovided; except the Captain's store.
That we also thought meet to have there some man of estimation and service, for the respects contained in the article of Guisnes: which also the Lord DUDLEY requires.
+NEWNAM BRIDGE.+
Item. We think it meet, upon the occasion, to withdraw the bands [companies of soldiers] from the Causeway thither; and then are of opinion, the same to be sufficient to defend that piece for a season; unless the enemy shall get between this town and the bridge.
It is clean without victuals, other than the Captain's own provision.
+RYSBANK.+
Because that place standeth upon the sea, and by the shore side, may the enemy come in a night to it: we think it meet to appoint hither a band [company] of the low country [the open district round Calais, within the English pale] under the leading of Captain DODD.
It is altogether unfurnished of victuals, other than for the Captain's own store.
+CALAIS.+
Whereas all your Majesty's pieces on this side, make account to be furnished of victuals and other necessaries from hence; it is so, that of victuals your Highness hath presently none here: and also this town hath none, by reason that the restraint in the realm hath been so strait as the victuallers (as were wont to bring daily hither good quantities of butter, cheese, bacon, wheat, and other things) might not, of late, be suffered to have any recourse hither; whereby is grown a very great scarcity of all such things here.
* * * * *
Finally. Forasmuch as all the wealth and substance of your Majesty's whole dominion on this side, is now in your low country (a thing not unknown to the enemy): and if with this his great power, coming down (as the bruit goeth) for the victualling of Ardes, he will give attempt on your Highness's country; we do not see that the small number here, in respect of their force, can, by any means, defend it.
And if we should stand to resist their entry into the country [the open district], and there receive any loss or overthrow; the country should nevertheless be overrun and spoiled: and besides it would set the enemy in a glory, and also be the more peril to your Highness's pieces [towns]. We therefore, upon the necessity, think it meet to gather all our men into strengths [fortresses]; and with the same to defend your pieces to the uttermost.
Notwithstanding, all the power on this side is insufficient to defend the pieces, in case the enemy shall tarry any space in the field.
WENTWORTH, WILLIAM GREY, ANTHONY AUCHAR, JOHN HARLESTON, EDWARDE GRIMESTONE, N. ALEXANDER, EUSTACE HOBYNGTON.
Lord +WENTWORTH+, at Calais.
Letter to Queen MARY, 1 January, 1558, 9 p.m.
[State Papers. Foreign, MARY, Vol. XII. No. 1.
[One cannot help seeing that in this and the next letter, Lord WENTWORTH, quite hopeless of any successful attempt, was trying to make things look as pleasant as he could to the Queen.]
It may please your Highness, having retired the Bands from the Causeway the last night [31 December 1557], and placed them at the Bridge [at Newhaven or Newnham] and within the Brayes [i.e., Calais walls]: this morning early, I returned them to the said Causeway, to defend that passage in case the enemy would attempt to enter there; and also to offer skirmish to take some of them, and to learn somewhat of their power.
Between nine and ten, the enemy showed in a very great bravery about six ensigns [regiments] of footmen, and certain horsemen; and came from the Chalk Pits down the hill towards the Causeway. Whereupon some of ours issued and offered the skirmish; but the enemy would in no wise seem to meddle.
During this their stillness, they caused about 200 harquebussiers to cut over the marsh from Sandgate and get between ours and the Bridge, and then to have hotly set on them on both sides. In this time also, at a venture, I had caused your Majesty's Marshal, with the horsemen, to go abroad, and maintain the skirmish with the footmen: and by that [time] the Marshal came there, the enemy's harquebussiers that passed the marshes were discovered; and ours took a very honest retire. Which the enemies on the land side perceiving, came on, both horsemen and footmen, marvellously hotly; to whom ours gave divers onsets, continually skirmishing till they came to the Bridge, and there reposed themselves. The bridge bestowed divers shot upon the enemy, and hurt some. Of ours, thanked be GOD! none slain nor hurt, save a man-at-arms stricken in the leg with a currion.
The alarm continued till one o'clock in the afternoon; before the end whereof our enemy's number increased: for eleven ensigns more of footmen came in sight, and three troops of horsemen.
Besides, the alarm went round about our country at that instant, even from Sandgate to Guisnes; and bands of the enemy at every passage.
They have gotten Froyton Church, and plant themselves at all the streights [passages] into this country. The bulwarks [? earth works] of Froyton and Nesle have this day done their duty very well; to whom I have this afternoon sent aid of men, and some shot and powder. Howbeit I am in some doubt of Nesle this night.
I am perfectly advertised, their number of horsemen and footmen already arrived is above 12,000; whereof little less have come in sight here. The Duke of GUISE is not yet arrived, but [is] hourly looked for with a more [greater] number.
This evening, I have discovered 500 waggons ladened with victuals and munition; and have further perfect intelligence, that thirty cannons be departed from Boulogne hitherwards.
They [i.e., the French army] are settled at Sandgate, Galley Moat, Causeway, Froyton, Calkewell, Nesle, and Syntrecase. At one o'clock after midnight, I look for them; being low water at the passage over the haven.
Thus having set all things in the best order I can, I make an end of three days' work; and leave your Majesty to consider for our speedy succour. Beseeching GOD to grant your Highness victory, with long and prosperous reign.
At your town of Calais, this New Year's Day, at nine of the night, 1557.
I have received your Majesty's letter [of 31st December] by [JOHN HIGHFIELD] Master of the Ordnance [at Calais], who came in this morning. The contents whereof I follow as near as I can.
Your Highness's Most humble and obedient servant and subject,
+WENTWORTH+.
Lord +WENTWORTH+ at Calais.
Letter to Queen MARY, 2 January, 1558, 10 p.m.
[State Papers, &c.]
After my humble duty remembered, it may please your Highness. This last night our enemies lay still, without anything attempting in the places mentioned in my last letters; as we did well perceive, during the whole night, by great fires made in the same places.
This morning early, I put out fresh footmen to the Bridge, to relieve the watched men.
About nine a clock, the enemies in very great number approached the Bridge, and offered the skirmish: whereupon issued out some of our harquebussiers and bowmen, and kept them in play, with the help of the shot from the Bridge, more than an hour; and in the end, being overmatched with multitude, made their retire with the Turnpike, without any loss or hurt. The enemies shadowing [sheltering] themselves under the turnpike wall, with their curriors (which assuredly shot very great bullets, and carry far) kept themselves in such surety, as our pieces of the Bridge could not annoy them, till at eleven o'clock, certain of ours, bored holes with augers through the turnpike, and with harquebusses beat them out into the shot of ordnance, and so made them retire to the Causeway.
This forenoon, certain Swiss and Frenchmen, to the number of 500, got within the marshes between Froyton and Nesle bulwarks: and the men of the Bulwarks seeing themselves to be compassed on all sides, and seeing also that time yet served them well to depart; and (fearing they should not so do, if they tarried till they were assailed on both sides, as they could not indeed), forsook their Bulwarks, and right manfully, notwithstanding their enemies between them and home, saved themselves through the marshes. In the retire of the enemies, one COOKSON, a man-at-arms, and few other soldiers, with the countrymen, rescued most part of the booty (which was certain kine); and took three prisoners of the Captain of Abbeville's Band.
The report of this enterprise of the enemy being brought to me, fearing Colham Hill, I forthwith appointed your Majesty's Marshal with the Horsemen, and 200 footmen to repair thither; and as they should see their match, so to demean themselves. Ere these men had marched a quarter of a mile, the enemies were retired out of the country, upon occasion that wading, as they entered in, up to the girdle stead; and perceiving the water to increase, [they] thought good to make a speedy return: and nevertheless, for all their haste, went up to the breast. And if they had tarried a little longer, I had put in so much water, as I think would have put them over head and ears: and, GOD willing, at the next tide, I will take in more.
This afternoon, they have been quiet, and we, in the meantime, be occupied in cutting up of passages to let in more water about the Bridge and that part of the marshes; whereby the enemies shall have very ill watering.
I would also take in the salt water about the town [of Calais], but I cannot do it, by reason I should infect our own water wherewith we brew: and, notwithstanding all I can do, our brewers be so behindhand in grinding and otherwise, as we shall find that one of our greatest lacks. I therefore make all the haste and provision I can there, and howsoever the matter go, must shortly be forced to let in the salt water.
The three men taken to-day be very ragged, and ill-appointed. In examining, they confess that "there is great misery in their camp, and great want of money and victuals." They say (and I partly believe it, because it almost appeareth to me), "their number to be 25,000 footmen, whereof 10,000 [are] Swiss; and 10,000 horsemen. The Duke of GUISE is already among them, and the only deviser and leader of this enterprise." They say also, "a shot from the Bridgeway to the Causeway yesterday, struck off the Master of the Camp's leg, called Captain GOURDAULT."
I am also perfectly advertised, both by these men and otherwise, that they have no great ordnance yet come, but look for it daily by sea. It is eighty pieces, whereof thirty be cannons: and are laden, with munition and victuals, in 140 vessels which shall land at Sandgate; or rather I think at Boulogne, it to be taken out of great ships [there], and so again embarked at Sandgate in lesser vessels, as they have done most part of their victuals and carriage that they have hitherto occupied [used]. And, surely, if your Majesty's ships had been on this shore, they might either have letted [hindered] their voyage; or, at the least, very much hindered it: and not unlike[ly] to have distressed them, being only small boats. Their ordnance that comes, shall be conveyed in the same sort: it may therefore please your Majesty to consider it.
I have also now fully discovered their enterprise; and am (as a man may be) most sure they will first attempt upon Rysbanke; and that way chiefly assail the town. Marry! I think they lie hovering in the country, for the coming of their great artillery, and also to be masters of the sea. And therefore I trust your Highness will haste over all things necessary for us with expedition.
Under your Majesty's reformation [correction], I think, if you please to set the passage at liberty for all men to come that would, bringing sufficient victuals for themselves for a season; I am of opinion there would be enow, and with more speed than can be made by order. Marry! then must it well be foreseen to transport with expedition, victuals hither.
I have written to the King's Majesty [PHILIP II.] of the enemies being here: and was bold humbly to beseech his Majesty to give commission to the governors of his frontiers [that] I might, in necessity, upon my letter, have 300 or 400 harquebussiers, Spaniards, that now be placed about St. Omer; whereof I thought it my duty to advertise your Majesty, for your pleasure, whether I may write to the Governors to that effect, upon his Majesty's answer, and take them or not?
I, with the rest of the Council here, are forced to put your Majesty to some charges: for having taken in a confused number of countrymen [i.e., peasantry within the English Pale], we must needs reduce them to order, and the commoners also; and have therefore called them into wages, and appointed Captains of the fittest men that presently [at this moment] be here.
I have placed DODD with his Band in Rysbank, and the rest of the extraordinary [i.e., volunteer] Bands be at the Bridge, and in the Brayes of this town.
As I was making this discourse, six Ensigns [regiments] of footmen, and certain Bands [troops] of horsemen, came from Sandgate by the downs, within the sight of Rysbank: on whom, that piece, and this town also, bestowed divers shots.
This evening, they have made their approach to Rysbank, without any artillery: and, as far as I can perceive, do mind to make the assault with ladders, hurdles, &c., and other things, and that way get it.
At Calais, the 2nd of January, at ten in the night, 1557.
* * * * *
As I was in communication with your Mayor and Aldermen, touching the state of this town (whom I find of marvellous good courage, and ready to live and die in this town), I received letters from my Lords of the Council, of your Majesty's aid provided for us.
I fear this shall be my last letter, for that the enemy will stop my passage; but I will do what I can tidily [duly from time to time] to signify unto your Majesty, our state.
Your Majesty's most humble and obedient servant and subject,
+WENTWORTH+.
+JOHN HIGHFIELD+, Master of the Ordnance at Calais. To the Queen, our sovereign Lady.
[Lord HARDWICK's Miscellaneous State Papers, i. 114. Ed. 1788.]
Pleaseth it your Highness to understand the Declaration of your humblest and faithful servant JOHN HIGHFIELD, concerning the besieging and loss of your Grace's town of Calais.
First, being appointed by your most honourable Council [i.e., the Privy Council in London] to repair into England [on the previous 23rd May, see p. 186]; I came. And after some intelligence that the French Army drew towards the English Pale, I was commanded to return with diligence to my charge at Calais; and I arrived there on New Year's Day in the morning, the enemy being encamped about Sandgate.
The said morning, after I had delivered letters to my Lord Deputy, from your Grace's said Council, the said Lord Deputy told me how the alarm was made the night before, and also what he thought meet for me to be done for the better furniture of those fortresses which were in most danger, as the Bulwarks of the High Country [Froyton and Nesle], Guisnes, Newhaven Bridge, and Rysbank: and also for the defence of the Low Country, because his Lordship thought their enterprise had tended only to the spoil thereof. Then I showed that there was a sufficient store of all munitions, and that I would send to all places as need required; which was done.
Item. On Sunday following [2nd January, 1558], we perceived the French ordnance was brought to their camp; whereby appeared that the enemy meant to batter some place: and thereupon were two mounts repaired for the better defence. At the same time, I desired to have some pioneers appointed to help the cannoneers, who were not forty in number, for the placing and entrenching of our great ordnance; which pioneers I could never get.
The same day, the enemy forced our men to forsake the Bulwarks of the High Country. And then it was moved to my Lord Deputy that the sea might be let in, as well to drown the Causeway beyond Newhaven Bridge, as also other places about the town: wherein was answered, "Not to be necessary without more appearance of besieging," and because that "the sea being entered in, should hinder the pastures of the cattle, and also the brewing of the beer."
The same day, my Lord took order that victuals and other necessaries should be sent to Newhaven Bridge for six days; which was done.
Item. On Monday [3rd January] in the morning, my Lord Deputy, with the rest of the Council there, perceiving that the enemy intended to approach nearer, were in doubt whether they might abandon the Low Country: and by advice, my Lord gave order that the Bailiff of Marke should appoint the servants and women of the Low Country, with their superfluous cattle, to draw (if need happened) into the Flemish Pale; and the said Bailiff with his best men, to repair to Marke Church, and there to abide further orders.
The same morning before day, the enemy had made their approaches, and did batter both Newhaven Bridge and the Rysbank; which were given up before nine o'clock.
The Captain of Newhaven Bridge had word sent him that if he saw no remedy to avoid the danger, that then he should retire with his company into the Town.
The Captain of Rysbank did, about the same time, surrender; because, as he told me since, his pieces were all dismounted, and the soldiers very loth to tarry at the breach: wherein I know no more.
But after the enemy was entered, I cause the said Rysbank to be battered; and when my Lord saw how little it profited, he commanded to cease.
The same day, the passages being both lost, the enemy planted their ordnance on the Sand Hill, to batter the north side of the town; and then I moved my Lord to call in as many countrymen [English peasantry] as he could, and to appoint them Captains and their several quarters, for the relief of those which did most commonly watch and attend on the walls. Who answered, "He had determined already so to do." Howbeit the women did more labour [watch] about the ramparts than the said countrymen; which, for lack of order in time, did absent themselves in houses and other secret places.
The same evening, Captain SALIGUES [or SELLYN] came into Calais; whereupon the people rejoiced, hoping some succour: but after that time, it was too late to receive help by land, because the French horsemen were entered the Low Country.
Item. On Tuesday [4th January] in the morning, the enemy began their battery to the Town; on which side I had placed fourteen brass pieces. Howbeit, within short time, the enemy having so commodious a place, did dismount certain of our best pieces, and consumed some of the gunners, which stood very open for lack of mounds and good fortification. For if the rampart had been finished, then might divers pieces have been brought from other places; which were above sixty in number, ready mounted: but lacking convenient place, and chiefly cannoneers and pioneers, it was hard to displace the French battery. Which counter battery could not have been maintained for lack of powder. For, at the beginning, having in store, 400 barrels; I found there was spent within five days, 100.
Item. On Wednesday [5th January], the enemy continued their battery on the town, without great hurt done, because they could not beat the foot of the wall, for that the contremure was of a good height, and we reinforced the breach, in the night, with timber, wool, and other matter sufficiently; and we looked that the enemy would have attempted the assault the same evening; whereupon I caused two flankers to be made ready, and also placed two bombards, by the help of the soldiers, appointing weapons and fireworks to be in readiness at the said breach. At which time, my Lord commanded the soldiers of the garrison to keep their ordinary wards, and Master GRIMSTON to the breach with the residue of the best soldiers. And then my Lord exhorted all men to fight, with other good words as in such cases appertaineth. And my Lord told me, divers times, that "although there came no succour; yet he would never yield, nor stand to answer the loss of such a town."
Item. On Thursday [6th January], began one other battery to the Castle; which being a high and weak wall without ramparts, was made [as]saultable the same day. Whereupon, the Captain of the Castle desired some more help to defend this breach, or else to know what my Lord thought best in that behalf. Then, after long debating, my Lord determined to have the towers overthrown, which one SAULLE took upon him to do; notwithstanding, I said openly that "if the Castle were abandoned, it should be the loss of the Town."
The same night, my Lord appointed me to be at the breach of the town with him: and, about eight of the clock, the enemy waded over the haven, at the low water, with certain harquebussiers, to view the breaches; and, coming to the Castle, found no resistance, and so entered. Then the said SAULLE failed to give fire unto the train of powder [see p. 204].
Then my Lord, understanding that the enemy were entered into the Castle, commanded me to give order for battering of the Castle; whereupon incontinent there were bent three cannons and one saker [p. 251] before the gate, to beat the bridge; which, being in the night, did not greatly annoy.
The same time, Master Marshall [Sir ANTHONY AUCHER, see p. 176] with divers soldiers, came towards the Castle, lest the enemy should enter the town also. And after we had skirmished upon the bridge, seeing no remedy to recover the Castle, we did burn and break the said bridge: and there was a trench immediately cast before the Castle, which was [the] only help at that time.
Within one hour after, upon necessity of things, [my Lord] determined to send a trumpet with a herald, declaring that "If the Frenchmen would send one gentleman, then he would send one other in gage." Whereupon my Lord sent for me, and commanded that I should go forth of the town for the same purpose; wherein I desired his Lordship that he would send some other, and rather throw me over the walls. Then he spake likewise to one WINDEBANKE, and to MASSINGBERD, as I remember, which were both to go unto such service.
Then my Lord sent for me again, in PEYTON's house; and being eftsoons commanded by the Council there, I went forth with a trumpet [trumpeter], and received in a French gentleman: who, as I heard, was brought to my Lord Deputy's house, and treated upon some Articles; which were brought, within one hour, by one HALL, merchant of the staple.
Then Monsieur D'ANDELOT entered the town with certain French gentlemen; and the said HALL and I were brought to Monsieur DE GUISE, who lay in the sand hills by Rysbank, and there the said HALL delivered a bill: and we were sent to Monsieur D'ESTREES' tent.
The Friday after [7th January], Monsieur D'ESTREES told me that my Lord Deputy had agreed to render the town with loss of all the goods, and fifty prisoners to remain.
On Saturday [8th January], he brought me into the town, willing me to tell him what ordnance, powder, and other houses did belong unto my office; because he would reserve the same from spoiling by the French soldiers. And after he had knowledge that all my living was on that side [i.e., he had only his Mastership of the Ordnance at Calais], he was content that I should depart into Flanders.
Notwithstanding, I was driven off till Wednesday, [12th January]. Then he said, "He would send me away, if I would promise him to make suit that his son might be returned in exchange for the Captain of the Castle," who, being prisoner, desired me also to travail in it, for he would rather give 3,000 crowns [= £900 then = about £9,000 now], than remain a prisoner. Whereupon I promised to inquire and labour in the same matter to the best of my power.
On my said return into the town, I found my wife, which showed me that, in my absence, she had bestowed my money and plate to the value of £600 [= about £6,000 now]; which was found before my coming, saving one bag with 350 crowns [= £105 = about £1,000 now], which I offered to give unto Monsieur D'ESTREES if he would promise me, on his honour, to despatch me on horseback to Gravelines [then held by the Spaniards]. Which he did.
* * * * *
And there I met with Monsieur DE VANDEVILLE, to whom I told, that "I thought the enemy would visit him shortly"; and, among other things, I inquire where Monsieur D'ESTREES' son did lay; who told me, "He was at Bruges."
* * * * *
Then, at my coming to Dunkirk, there were divers Englishmen willing to serve [i.e., in PHILIP II.'s army]: whereupon I spake to the Captain of the town; who advised me to move it to the Duke of SAVOY.
Then I rode to Bruges, beseeching him to consider the poor men, and how willing they were to serve the King's Majesty, if they might be employed. Then he answered, that he "thought my Lord of PEMBROKE would shortly arrive at Dunkirk and then he would take order."
Further, the said Duke asked me, "After what sort the town was lost?"
I answered that "The cause was not only by the weakness of the Castle, and the lack of men; but also I thought there was some treason, for, as I heard, there were some escaped out of the town: and the Frenchmen told me, that they had intelligence of all our estate within the town."
Then I put the Duke in remembrance of Guisnes; who told me, that "he would succour the Castle, if it were kept four or five days."
Then I took leave to depart from him, and when I was going out of the house, he sent his Captain of his Guard to commit me to prison, where I have remained nine weeks, [January-March, 1558], without any matter laid to my charge; saving he sent to me, within fourteen days after, to declare in writing, after what sort the town was lost, which I did as nigh as I could remember.
And at the Duke's next return to Bruges, I sent him a supplication, desiring that, if any information were made against me, I might answer it in England, or otherwise at his pleasure.
[In the Public Record Office, State Papers, Foreign, MARY, is the following letter in French.
[Sidenote: 1558 March 14.]
EMANUEL PHILIBERT, Duke of SAVOY to Queen MARY.
[Sidenote: St. Omer.]
She will have been advertised that, soon after the French had entered Calais, JOHN HIGHFIELD, late Master of the Artillery there, came to Bruges. From strong suspicion that there had been an understanding between him and the French, had caused him to be arrested and detained at Bruges, where he has been until now.
Lately, while repassing through that town, was importuned by the prisoner's wife to set him free. Sends her under the charge of a French gentleman, FRANCIS DU BOURCH, the bearer.]
Whereupon he took order to send me hither [i.e., to England] without paying any part of my charges, which I have promised to answer.
Most humbly praying your Highness to consider my poor estate, and willing heart, which I bear, and am most bounden to your Grace's service: beseeching God to conserve your Majesty in all felicity.
+JOHN FOX+, the Martyrologist.
Mistress +THORPE's+ Escape at Calais.
[Actes and Monumentes, p. 1702, Ed. 1563.]
The worthy works of the LORD's mercy toward His people be manifold, and cannot be comprehended: so that who is he living in the earth almost, who hath not experienced the helping hand of the LORD, at some time or other upon him?
Amongst many other, what a piece of GOD's tender providence was shewed, of late, upon our English brethren and countrymen, what time Calais was taken by the tyrant GUISE (a cruel enemy to GOD's truth, and to our English nation); and yet by the gracious provision of the LORD, few, or none at all, of so many that favoured CHRIST and His Gospel, miscarried in that terrible Spoil.
In the number of whom, I know a godly couple, one JOHN THORPE and his wife, which fear the LORD and loveth His truth; who being sick the same time, were cast out into the wild fields, harbourless, desolate, and despairing of all hope of life; having their young infant moreover taken from them in the said fields, and carried away by the soldiers. Yet the LORD so wrought, that the poor woman, being almost past recovery of life, was fetched and carried, the space of well nigh a mile, by aliens whom they never knew, into a village, where she was recovered for that night.
Also the next day, coming towards England, she chanced into the same inn at the next town, where she found her young child sitting by the fireside.
Lord +GREY+ of Wilton, Governor of Guisnes.
Letter to Queen MARY, 4th January, 1558. 7 a.m.
[State Papers. Foreign, MARY, Vol. xii. No. 711.]
My most bounden duty humbly premised to your Majesty. Whereas I have heretofore always in effect written nothing to your Highness but good, touching the service and state of your places here; I am now constrained, with woful heart, to signify unto your Majesty these ensuing.
The French have won Newhaven Bridge, and thereby entered into all the Low Country and the marshes between this [Guisnes] and Calais. They have also won Rysbanke, whereby they be now master of that haven.
And this last night past, they have placed their ordnance of battery against Calais, and are encamped at St. Peter's Heath before it: so that I now am clean cut off from all relief and aid which I looked to have (both out of England, and from Calais) and know not how to have help by any means, either of men or victuals.
There resteth now none other way for the succour of Calais and the rest of your Highness's pieces on this side, but a power of men out of England, or from the King's Majesty [PHILIP II.]; or from both, without delay, able to distress and keep them from victuals coming to them, as well by sea as land; which shall force them to leave their siege to the battle, or else drive them to a greater danger.
For lack of men out of England, I shall be forced to abandon the Town [of Guisnes], and take in the soldiers thereof for the Castle. I have made as good provision of victuals as I could, by any means, out of the country; with which, GOD willing! I doubt not to defend and keep this piece as long as any man, whosoever he be, having no better provision, and furniture of men and victuals than I have: wherein your Grace shall well perceive that I will not fail to do the duty of a faithful subject and Captain, although the enemy attempt never so stoutly; according to the trust reposed in me.
I addressed letters presently to the King's Majesty by this bearer, most humbly desiring aid from him; according to the effect aforesaid.
I might now very evil[ly] have spared this bringer, my servant and trusty Officer here, in this time of service. Howbeit considering the great importance of his message, I thought him a meet man for the purpose; desiring your Majesty to credit him fully, and to hear him at large, even as directly as your Grace would hear me to open my mind in this complaint of imminent danger.
Thus trusting for relief and comfort forthwith from your Majesty for the safeguard of Calais, and your other pieces here; I take my leave most humbly of your Grace.
At your Highness's Castle of Guisnes, most assured English even to the death, the 4th January, 1557, at seven of the clock in the morning.
Your Majesty's most humble servant, And obedient servant,
+WILLIAM GREY+.
+THOMAS CHURCHYARD+, the Poet.
Share in, and Eye Witness account of the Siege of Guisnes. 11th-22nd January, 1558, A.D.
[Besides living to an extreme age, all through ELIZABETH's reign, and writing very many poems and books: it is clear, from this account, that CHURCHYARD was one of the heroes of the Mary Bulwark at Guisnes.]
[A General Rehearsal of Wars, &c. 1579. The title in the headline is CHURCHYARD's Choice.]
Sir William Drury, now [in 1579] Lord Justice of Ireland, was so inclined to martial affairs, that, when foreign wars were ended, he sought entertainment at Guisnes, and those parts; which had war with the French, for King PHILLIP's Quarrel. And he, having charge, and a lusty Band of Horsemen, did many things that merit good liking.
For at that time, [there] was much ado: a Band [regiment] of horsemen, very well appointed and full of gentlemen, was sent from [Sir THOMAS CHENEY, K.G.] the Lord Warden [of the Cinque Ports], an honourable and a worthy gentleman, most full of nobleness; the Lord CHENEY's father, now living. In this band, and belonging to that charge, were sundry of the KEYES, gentlemen of good service: Master CRIPPES having the leading of all that company. There were sent, in like sort, from the Prince [Sovereign, i.e., Queen MARY]: Master WILLIAM HERBERT's (of St. Gillian) brother, called Master GEORGE HERBERT, with a Band of footmen; and one Captain BORNE, whose Lieutenant I was, at the siege of Guisnes.
These bands, a good season before Calais and Guisnes were taken, joining with other bands of Calais, did make divers journeys into Bollinnoyes [the Boullognois, or district round Boulogne]; and sped very well: Sir WILLIAM DRURY, at every service, deserved no little praise; and one Captain WINNIBANK, an ancient soldier, was oftentimes so forward, that he was once run through with a lance. Many Gentlemen in those services did well and worthily: and sundry times the Lord Warden's Band was to be praised.
And, at length, a voyage was made, by the consent and whole power of Calais and Guisnes, to fetch a prey from Boulogne gates; Monsieur SNARPOULE [?SENARPONT] then being Governor of Boulogne: but we could not handle the matter so privily, but the French, by espial, had gotten word thereof. Notwithstanding, as soldiers commonly go forward with their device, so we marched secretly all the whole night to come to our proposed enterprise: with our footmen, whereof Sir HARRY PALMER, a man of great experience, had the leading. He remained, with the whole power of [the] footmen, near the Black Neasts, as a stale [decoy] to annoy the enemy, and succour for such as were driven in, if any such occasion came. So the Horse Bands [troops] brake into the country, and pressed near Boulogne; where there was a great number of gallant soldiers to receive them: but our horsemen, making small account of the matter, began to prey [upon] the country, and drive a booty from the face of the enemy. The French horsemen, taking their advantage, offered a skirmish, to detract time, till better opportunity served to give a charge. This courageous bickering grew so hot, that the French bands began to show; and our men must abide a shock, or retire hardily with some foil: whereupon the chiefest of our horsemen charged those of the French that were nearest danger; by which attempt, the French stayed a while. But, upon small pause, they charged our men again, and overthrew of the "Black Lances" a thirty: carrying away with them into Boulogne, eighteen gentlemen, prisoners. This skirmish began at seven o'clock in the morning; and lasted, in very great service, till a leven [eleven]. From this overthrow, came divers soldiers, sore wounded, to our Foot bands [companies]; whose heaviness made the valiant sort pluck up their hearts, and seek a revenge.
Then, albeit, that Foot Captains and gentlemen seldom leave their Bands, and venture beyond their charge (a rule to be much regarded!), yet the stoutest Captains and gentlemen found means to horse themselves on cart horses and victuallers' nags: and put certain scarfs, in manner of guidons [standards] on staves' [spears'] ends; showing those guidons under a hill in several sorts, sometimes appearing with twenty men, sometimes with fifty. And, last of all, made show of all our number, which was not fifty; and so, with a courageous cry, set upon the enemy (leaving some of these devised guidons behind on the hill top), and charged them with such a fury that they left their booty, and stood to their defence: but, in fine, were forced to retire, for by the little stay we held the enemy in, our footmen had leisure to march; the sound of whose drums gave no great courage to the French. For they thereon, gave back, and left some of their best soldiers behind them; whom we brought to Guisnes: driving the prey before us, that was gotten in the morning, lost in a skirmish, and recovered again at noon. At this service, were Sir WILLIAM DRURY, Captain ALEXANDER of Newnham Bridge, Captain CRIPPES, Captain KEYES, and three of his brethren, Captain GEORGE HERBERT, and sundry others, in like manner, that merit good respect.
Our power met many times together; and did much hurt in the Boullognois. We besieged Fines Castle, and wan it: and Blossling Church, and overthrew it; and killed all the men that we found therein, because Sir HARRY PALMER was there hurt through the arm, with a shot. [A very sorry reason!]
A long season, our fortune was good; till, at length, by some oversight or mishap (Let the blame fall where it ought!) we lost Calais and Guisnes.
* * * * *
But a little, I pray you! give me leave to touch truly the Siege of Guisnes: not because I had some charge there; but because sundry reports hath been raised thereof, by those that never thoroughly knew or understood the matter.
The very truth is, after Calais was won, and that all hope was taken from us of any succour out of England, our General, the honourable Lord GREY [of Wilton], that is dead [he died in 1562], and Master LEWIS DIVE [p. 211], his Lieutenant, Sir HARRY PALMER, and all the Captains of Guisnes, determined to abide the worst that Fortune or the French could do.
And the day [13th of January, 1558] of the first approach the enemy made, we offered a hot and stout skirmish; but being driven in by an over great power, though our whole people were 1,300 men, and kept the Town awhile. But considering the Castle to be strongest, and doubting [fearing] that by a Cambozade or sudden assault, the town might be won, for it was but weak; we retired our whole power into the Castle: and so manned the base Court, the Braies, and Bulwarks, the Keep, the Catte, the Heart of the Castle, and all that was necessary, with double men.
At the present siege, there came out of Flanders, fifty valiant Spaniards; and a band of Burgundians, Monsieur DIEFFKIE, being their Captain. Monsieur MOUNT DRAGON was leader of the Spaniards: who were placed in the Braies; where Captain LAMBERT had some shot [harquebussiers] to succour them.
The Burgundians were placed in Mary Bulwark; with Captain BORNE's Band, whose Lieutenant I was. Against this Bulwark, which was thought impregnable, the [Frenchmen's] great battery was planted: albeit, three or four days [15th-18th January, see pp. 180-81] were spent (we held the enemy such play), before the battery was planted.
One day, we issued [forth], and set upon Monsieur [i.e., the Duke] DE GUISE, as he was in a place called Mill Field, viewing the ground; and had taken him, had he not left his cloak behind him: of the which white cloak, one of our Gentlemen had hold of. And though he was succoured, we brought away some of his company: and retired with little loss or none at all. [Sir ARTHUR], the Lord GREY that now is [1579], was at the hard escape of Monsieur DE GUISE.
We set upon a great troop of horsemen, not long before this, that came from the spoil of Calais; and took numbers of them. I had, for my part, a couple of fair horses and a prisoner. At both these services, were old Captain ANDREA, Captain JOHN SAVAGE, and a sufficient number of lusty soldiers.
We made divers sallies, but that prevailed not. For the battery went off, and many other great cannons did beat at the high towers; the stones whereof did marvellously annoy us: and the shot was so great; and the enemy had gotten such great advantage of ground, that we could not walk, nor go safely any way within the Castle. For our General and Sir HARRY PALMER sitting on a form, devising for our commodity, were in such danger, that a cannon shot took away the form, and brake Sir HARRY PALMER's leg; of which hurt, he died in Paris after. And a great shot took off Master WAKE's head, as he was sleeping under a great tree. So sundry, that thought themselves safe, were so dribbed at with cannon shot, that they never knew who did hurt them.
Well, the time drew on, after the breach was made, we must defend the assault that was given to Mary Bulwark; which stood out[side] of the Castle, and far from succour of any: because the gate was rammed up; and we could not pass into the Castle but by the way, first, along the Braies, and then, between two gates. Which way, the enemy had espied: and placed many great shot, full upon that passage.
Now [i.e., 18th January, 1558] Monsieur DIFFKIE, Captain BORNE, Captain OSWOLD LAMBERT [with their companies], and the fifty Spaniards, [to the number in all of about 450 men] were forced to abide the assault; which began at eleven o'clock, and lasted till night. MOUNT DRAGON came into Mary Bulwark, and three gentlemen more; and stood stoutly to our defence: two of whom were slain. My Captain's head was smitten off with a cannon's shot: and unto our Band were left no more but one Master HOLFORD and I, to guide the whole company. And Captain DIFFKIE was wounded to the death, whose Band fought manfully in the revenge of their Captain. The old Captain ANDREA, covetous of fame, was desirous to have our fellowship: but he had no Band [company] nor people to do us pleasure. Captain LAMBERT was crossed [struck] with a great shot; and mine armour, with the breaking of a great piece, was stricken flat upon my body; but [it] being unbraced, I might continue the service. Which service, in mine opinion, was so terribly handled by the French (Monsieur D'ANDELOT being the leader of the assault), that both Englishman, Burgundian, and Spaniard, at that Bulwark, had enough to do to keep the enemy out: and, as I believe, at this assault, we lost 150 good soldiers.
But the night coming on, the French surceased their fury, and yet kept themselves closely, under the top of the breach, where our shot nor flankers could do them no harm: for all our great ordnance was dismounted, long before the enemy made any approach for the giving of an assault.
The next day [the 19th of January], within three half hours, the battery had beaten the breach so bare (it moulded away, like a hillock of sand) that we [reduced now to about 300 men] were forced to fight on our knees. Having been kept waking all the night before, with false allarummes [alarms]; our men began to faint, and wax weary of working at the breach: but we defended Mary Bulwark so well all that dangerous day, that the French lost 1,000 soldiers, by their own confession, at the same service; and yet the assault endured to the very dark night, with as much cruelty as could be devised. And always when the enemy's first men did wax feeble with labour; there was a second and new relief of fresh bands to continue the assault: so that, as long as the daylight served, it seemed by the fight, a bloody broil hath no end, nor season to take breath in; which certainly would have daunted any heart living.
The next night, was so plied with politic practices, that we had scarcely leisure to take any rest or sustentation. And, indeed, with overwatching, some of our men fell asleep "in the middle of the tale" and time of greatest necessity to debate and argue of those things that pertained to life and liberty, and to avoid utter servitude and shame [i.e., they slept in the course of the fight].
And now we, that were without the Castle, might hear great business and stir throughout the whole body and heart of the piece [fortress].
For, the next morning [20th of January, 1558], which was the third day we were assaulted, our General looked for a general assault, and to be roundly assailed: as, of troth, he was. In the meanwhile, we might speak one to another afar off, and our friends answered us over the wall; for nearer together, we might not come: and for succour or aid to our soldiers in Mary Bulwark, we hoped not after. Every man was occupied with his own business and charge; that no one person might be spared from his place.
Well, as GOD would permit, the poor Spaniards [in the Braie] and such Burgundians as were left alive in Mary Bulwark, fell to make a counterscarf, to beat out the enemy from the Braie, when the Bulwark should be won: as it was likely to be lost, the breach was so bare, and the entry for the enemy was so large; for, in a manner, they might assault our Bulwark round about, on all sides. And they did lodge at the very edge of the breach, to the number of 2,000, of their bravest Bands: minding to assail us, as soon as the day began to peep out of the skies.
Which they performed, when the third day approached. For a general assault was given to every place of the Castle: which assault endured till the very night came on. The French, in this assault, wan the Base Court; and were ready to set fire under the gate, and blow it up with powder.
Monsieur D'ANDELOT, in his own person, with 2,000 soldiers, entered the Mary Bulwark; who slew the Spaniards in the Braie: and forced, as many Burgundians and English as were left alive, which were but 15 (Captain ANDREA, Captain LAMBERT, and MYSELF; with twelve common soldiers) out of 400, to leap down into the dykes, and so to scramble for their lives; and creep into a hole of a brick wall that my Lord GREY had broken out to receive such as escaped from the assault. But when we had entered the hole in the wall, the French followed at our heels; and we, to save our lives, turned again, bending pikes against the passage, and so shot off one hargaboze [harquibus]: by which means, the enemy followed no further.
And yet we were in as great distress as before. For we were between two gates: and at the gate we should have entered, were two great cannon, ready charged to be shot off, to drive them back that would have set fire on the gate. And the cry and noise was so great and terrible, on all sides, that we could not be heard to speak. But, as GOD would, Master LEWIS DIVE [p. 207] (now, a man of worship in Bedfordshire) heard my voice. Then I plied the matter so sore, for life: so that, with much ado, Master DIVE received us into the heart of the Castle. And yet, in the opening of the gate, the French were like to enter pelley melley [pell mell] with us, if a cannon shot had not made place, whiles the gate was a shutting.
But now, we were no sooner come before my Lord GREY: but all the soldiers cried, "Yield up the Castle, upon some reasonable composition!" And when the soldiers saw they could not have the Castle yielded; they threatened "to fling my Lord GREY over the walls": and that was determined; if my Lord had not prevented [forestalled] them with a policy. Whereupon the Captains were called together; and there, they agreed to send me to Monsieur DE GUISE, with an offer, that "If we might all march, with bag and baggage, ensign displayed, and six pieces of ordnance: we would yield the Castle into the hands of the French."
Now it was night, and I must be let out at Master HARRY NORWITCH his Bulwark; but neither Drum nor Trumpet went with me: because a Trumpeter was slain as he sounded to have a parley; and, as I heard say, a Drum[mer] that would have followed me, was shot in the leg. But there was no remedy. I must wade over the water, in which there lay certain galthroppes, as they term them, which were great boards, full of long spikes of iron; on the which, having good boots and a stay in my hand, I was taught daintily to tread: and the night was so dark, that the enemy might not take any good mark of me, albeit they shot divers times.
So, with some hazard, and no great hope to attain that I was sent for, I was taken by the watch; and brought to Monsieur DE GUISE's tent, where the Duke D'AUMALE and many great Estates were in presence.
My message being said, with due reverence made: the Duke told me, that "all our ordnance was dismounted, and that thereby our malice was cut off; and we could not do his camp any annoyance. Wherefore," said he, "this was a stout brag, to seek a capitulation with such advantage upon."
I replied to his Excellency, and told, "We had flankers [guns with a cross fire] and other great pieces, which would not be discovered till the next assault:" declaring likewise, "Our soldiers had sworn rather to die in their [own] defence, than not to march away, like men of war."
The noblemen, on this mine answer, bade me "Return! and with the rest of the Castle, to do the worst they could!"
So I departed, and the Duke of GUISE beholding, as he thought, we were resolved to see the uttermost of fortune; called me back again: and fell to questions and arguments with me, such as I liked not [i.e., he tried to bribe CHURCHYARD in some way]; but other answer did I not make, than you have heard before. Wherewith, he called for some meat; and made me to sit down.
After I had a little refreshed myself, I demanded to know his pleasure.
Who straightways told me, "There was no help to be had; but to become all captives and prisoners to the French King."
"Not so, Sir," I answered; "and that should the next assault make trial of."
Then, he went to talk with the Noblemen; and there, they concluded, "That the soldiers should march away with bag and baggage: and the Captains and Officers should remain prisoners:" which I knew would not be liked: and so desired to be sent to my Lord GREY.
But when I came into the Castle, and the soldiers had gotten word that they might march away at their will: they came to me, and threatened me with great words, commanding me, "To make despatch, and yield up the fort!" For they said, "Since the matter is in talk, and likely to be brought to a good purpose; they would cut my throat, if I made not, hastily, an end of the case." And thereupon had they made a great hole in a wall; and so they thrust me out among the Almains, who rudely handled me.
But my Lord GREY, at my departure, bade me tell the Duke, that the Almains were about to break into the Castle, and to set the gate afire: and my Lord said, "He would shoot off his great ordnance among them; if the Law of Arms were not better observed!"
But, in the meantime, at another place was entered Monsieur DE TRE [D'ESTREES] Master of the [French] Ordnance; and [Sir ARTHUR] the Lord GREY that now is, was sent to the Camp, for the pawn [security] of Monsieur D'ESTREES.
But I was come to Monsieur DE GUISE before those things were finished: and had told him my message. And he, like a noble Prince and faithful Captain, rode to the gate (causing me to mount behind Master HARRY DUDLEY); where the Almains were busily occupied about some naughty practice: and, with a great truncheon, he stroke divers of the Almains and others, to make them retire; and laying a load [i.e., of blows] about him, he made such way, that the gate was free, and the capitulation was, at leisure, talked of.
But I was not suffered to enter any more into the Castle; and so stayed as a prisoner.
Notwithstanding, look what promise Monsieur DE GUISE made, it was so well kept and observed that our soldiers marched away, with all their wealth, money, and weapons. And great wealth was borne by them from Guisnes: insomuch that divers poor soldiers were made thereby, for all [the] days of their life after. And this is to be noted. There was great honour in the Duke of GUISE. For the Bands [originally 1,300 p. 207; but now about 500, having lost 800, see below] that parted [departed] (either sick or sound, hurt or whole) were honestly conveyed, and truly dealt withal; even as long as they were in any danger, albeit they had great sums of money and treasure with them: and the General with his Captains and Officers were courteously used, so long as they were in the Duke of GUISE his camp.
And, to say the truth, I think our peace was not so dishonourable, as some report. For
Succour, had we no hope of.
The next assault had overthrown us.
The whole members [i.e., the external fortifications] of the Castle were cut off from us.
There remained but the bare body of the Castle in our custody.
The enemy's cannons did beat us from the breach on the inside.
The Castle was subject to every shot; both from the Keep, the Catte, and the Mary Bulwark.
The French possessed all the special places of our strength and comfort.
The best and chiefest of our soldiers were slain, or lay maimed in most miserable state.
And we had lost 800 men in these assaults and services; which did their duty so well, that the enemy confessed that they had lost 4,000, before we could be brought to any parley or composition.
But some of our Officers [? Is our Author here alluding to Captain Lord DUDLEY at Hammes, p. 183], by craft and cunning, escaped homewards out of the Frenchmen's hands; came to Court, and made up their Bands [companies] again; to the great reproach of those that meant no such matters. So, by that subtilty and shift, they that escaped got a pay or some reward of the Prince: and those that abode out the brunt and hazard of the bloody broil, were left in prison.
And the world thought, by seeing so many come home, we had lost but a few at the siege of Guisnes; which is otherwise to be proved and affirmed for a truth; when true trial [inquiry] shall be made.
Calais was lost before, I cannot declare how. But well I wot, Sir ANTHONY AGER, a stout gentleman, and a valiant Knight, there lost his life: and one Captain SAULE was terribly burnt with powder, in making a train to destroy the enemy [p. 199].
+JOHN FOX+, the Martyrologist.
The death of Queen MARY.
[The Ecclesiastical History ii. 2296, Ed. 1570].
Now then after these so great afflictions falling upon this realm from the first beginning of Queen MARY's reign, wherein so many men, women, and children were burned; many imprisoned, and in prisons starved, divers exiled, some spoiled of goods and possessions, a great number driven from house and home, so many weeping eyes, so many sobbing hearts, so many children made fatherless, so many fathers bereft of their wives and children, so many vexed in conscience, and divers against conscience constrained to recant, and, in conclusion, never a good man in all the realm but suffered something during all the time of this bloody persecution. After all this, I say, now we are come at length, the LORD be praised! to the 17th day of November, which day, as it brought to the persecuted members of CHRIST rest from their careful mourning, so it easeth me somewhat likewise of my laborious writing; by the death, I mean, of Queen MARY. Who, being long sick before, upon the said 17th day of November, 1558, about three or four a clock in the morning, yielded her life to nature, and her kingdom to Queen ELIZABETH, her sister.
As touching the manner of whose death, some say that she died of a tympany [dropsy]; some, by her much sighing before her death, supposed she died of thought and sorrow. Whereupon her Council seeing her sighing, and desirous to know the cause, to the end they might minister the more ready consolation unto her, feared, as they said, that "She took that thought for the King's Majesty her husband, which was gone from her."
To whom she answering again, "Indeed," said she, "that may be one cause; but that is not the greatest wound that pierceth my oppressed mind!" but what that was, she would not express to them.
Albeit, afterwards, she opened the matter more plainly to Master RYSE and Mistress CLARENTIUS [p. 140] (if it be true that they told me, which heard it of Master RYSE himself); who (then being most familiar with her, and most bold about her) told her that "They feared she took thought for King PHILIP's departing from her."
"Not that only," said she, "but when I am dead and opened; you shall find Calais lying in my heart," &c.
* * * * *
And here an end of Queen MARY and her persecution. Of which Queen, this truly, may be affirmed, and left in story for a perpetual Memorial or Epitaph, for all Kings and Queens that shall succeed her, to be noted, that before her, never was read in story of any King or Queen in England, since the time of King LUCIUS, under whom, in time of peace, by hanging, heading, burning, and prisoning, so much Christian blood, so many Englishmen's lives were spilled within this realm, as under the said Queen MARY, for the space of four years, was to be seen; and I beseech the LORD may never be seen hereafter.
The Receiving of the Queen's Majesty.
[Compare this with the similar Procession of her Mother in Volume II. p. 46; and of her sister MARY at p. 84 of this Volume.
Here we see the Londoners in a kind of delirium of joy. The horrid nightmare of the burnings, of national loss and dishonour at Calais, &c., had passed away. Men could now breathe freely, and look forward to better times.]
Upon Saturday, which was the 14th day of January, in the year of our Lord God, 1558 [i.e., 1559], about two of the clock, at after noon, the most noble and Christian Princess, our most dread Sovereign Lady, ELIZABETH, by the grace of GOD, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c., marched from the Tower, to pass through the City of London, towards Westminster: richly furnished, and most honourably accompanied, as well with Gentlemen, Barons, and other the Nobility of this realm, as also with a noble train of goodly and beautiful Ladies, richly appointed.
And entering the City, was of the people received marvellous entirely, as appeared by the assembly's prayers, wishes, welcomings, cries, tender words, and all other signs: which argue a wonderful earnest love of most obedient subjects towards their Sovereign. And, on the other side, Her Grace, by holding up her hands, and merry countenance to such as stood afar off, and most tender and gentle language to those that stood nigh to Her Grace, did declare herself no less thankfully to receive her people's good will, than they lovingly offered it unto her.
To all that "wished Her Grace well!" she gave "Hearty thanks!" and to such as bade "GOD save Her Grace!" she said again, "GOD save them all!" and thanked with all her heart. So that, on either side, there was nothing but gladness! nothing but prayer! nothing but comfort!
The Queen's Majesty rejoiced marvellously to see that so exceedingly shewed towards Her Grace, which all good Princes have ever desired; I mean, so earnest Love of Subjects, so evidently declared even to Her Grace's own person, being carried in the midst of them. The people, again, were wonderfully ravished with the loving answers and gestures of their Princess; like to the which, they had before tried, at her first coming to the town, from Hatfield. This Her Grace's loving behaviour preconceived in the people's heads, upon these considerations, was then thoroughly confirmed; and indeed implanted a wonderful hope in them touching her worthy government in the rest of her reign.
For in all her Passage, she did not only shew her most gracious love towards the people in general; but also privately, if the baser personages had either offered Her Grace any flowers or such like, as a signification of their good will; or moved to her any suit, she most gently (to the common rejoicings of all lookers on, and private comfort of the party) stayed her chariot, and heard their requests. So that, if a man should say well, he could not better term the City of London that time, than a Stage wherein was shewed the wonderful Spectacle of a noble hearted Princess towards her most loving people; and the people's exceeding comfort in beholding so worthy a Sovereign, and hearing so prince-like a voice; which could not but have set the enemy on fire, (since the virtue is in the enemy always commended) much more could not but inflame her natural, obedient, and most loving people; whose weal leaneth only upon her Grace, and her government.
* * * * *
Thus, therefore, the Queen's Majesty passed from the Tower [see as to her former dismal visit in March, 1554, at p. 123], till she came to Fanchurch [Fenchurch]: the people on each side, joyously beholding the view of so gracious a Lady, their Queen; and Her Grace no less gladly noting, and observing the same.
Near unto Fanchurch, was erected a scaffold richly furnished; whereon stood a noise of instruments; and a child, in costly apparel, which was appointed to welcome the Queen's Majesty, in the whole City's behalf.
Against which place, when Her Grace came, of her own will she commanded the chariot to be stayed; and that the noise might be appeased, till the child had uttered his welcoming Oration, which he spake in English metre, as here followeth.
O peerless Sovereign Queen! Behold, what this thy town Hath thee presented with, at thy First Entrance here! Behold, with how rich hope, she leadeth thee to thy Crown! Behold, with what two gifts, she comforteth thy cheer!
The First is Blessing Tongues! which many a "Welcome!" say. Which pray, thou may'st do well! which praise thee to the sky! Which wish to thee long life! which bless this happy day! Which to thy Kingdom "Heapes!" [Hips!], all that in tongues can lie.
The Second is True Hearts! which love thee from their root! Whose Suit is Triumph now, and ruleth all the game, Which Faithfulness has won, and all untruth driven out; Which skip for joy, when as they hear thy happy name!
Welcome, therefore, O Queen! as much as heart can think. Welcome again, O Queen! as much as tongue can tell, Welcome to joyous Tongues, and Hearts that will not shrink! "GOD, thee preserve!" we pray; and wish thee ever well!
At which words of the last line, the people gave a great shout; wishing, with one assent, as the child had said.
And the Queen's Majesty thanked most heartily, both the City for this her gentle receiving at the first, and also the people for confirming the same.
Here was noted in the Queen's Majesty's countenance, during the time that the child spake, besides a perpetual attentiveness in her face, a marvellous change in look, as the child's words touched either her person, or the people's Tongues and Hearts: so that she, with rejoicing visage, did evidently declare that the words took no less place in her mind, than they were most heartily pronounced by the child, as from all the hearts of her most hearty citizens.
The same Verses were fastened up in a table [painted board. Table is the Elizabethan word for picture] upon the scaffold; and the Latin thereof likewise, in Latin verses, in another table, as hereafter ensueth.
Urbs tua quæ ingressu dederit tibi munera primo, O Regina! parem non habitura, vide! Ad diadema tuum, te spe quam divite mittat, Quæ duo letitioe det tibi dona, vide! Munus habes Primum, Linguas bona multa Precantes, Quæ te quum laudant, tum pia vota sonant, Foelicemque diem hunc dicunt, tibi secula longa Optant, et quicquid denique lingua potest. Altera dona feres, vera, et tui Amantia Corda, Quorum gens ludum jam regit una tuum: In quibus est infracta fides, falsumque perosa, Quæque tuo audito nomine læta salit. Grata venis igitur, quantum Cor concipit ullum! Quantum Lingua potest dicere, grata venis! Cordibus infractis, Linguisque per omnia lætis Grata venis! salvam te velit esse DEUS!
Now when the child had pronounced his oration, and the Queen's Highness so thankfully received it; she marched forward towards Gracious [Gracechurch] Street, where, at the upper end, before the sign of the Eagle, the city had erected a gorgeous and sumptuous Ark, as here followeth.
A Stage was made which extended from one side of the street to the other, richly vawted [vaulted] with battlements, containing three ports [gates]; and over the middlemost was advanced three several stages, in degrees [tiers]. Upon the lowest stage, was made one seat royal; wherein were placed two personages representing King HENRY VII., and ELIZABETH his wife, daughter of King EDWARD IV. Both of these two Princes sitting under one Cloth of Estate, in their seats; no otherwise divided, but that th[e] one of them, which was King HENRY VII., proceeding out of the House of LANCASTER, was enclosed in a red rose; and the other, which was Queen ELIZABETH, being heir to the House of YORK, enclosed with a white rose: each of them royally crowned and decently apparelled, as pertaineth to Princes, with sceptres in their hands, and one vawt [vault] surmounting their heads, wherein aptly were placed two tables, each containing the title, of those two Princes. And these personages were so set, that the one of them joined hands with the other, with the ring of matrimony perceived on the finger.
Out of the which two roses sprang two branches gathered into one: which were directed upward to the second stage or degree; wherein was placed one representing the valiant and noble Prince, HENRY VIII., who sprang out of the former stock, crowned with a crown imperial. And by him sate one representing the right worthy Lady, Queen ANNE; wife to the said HENRY VIII., and mother to our most sovereign Lady, Queen ELIZABETH that now is. Both apparelled with sceptres and diadems, and other furniture due to the estate of a King and Queen: and two tables surmounting their heads, wherein were written their names and titles.
From their seat also, proceeded upwards one branch directed to the third and uppermost stage or degree, wherein likewise was planted a seat royal; in the which was set one representing the Queen's most excellent Majesty, ELIZABETH, now our most dread Sovereign Lady, crowned and apparelled as the other Princes were.
Out of the forepart of this pageant was made a standing for a child, which, at the Queen's Majesty's coming, declared unto her the whole meaning of the said pageant.
The two sides of the same were filled with loud noises of music.
And all empty places thereof, were furnished with sentences concerning Unity. And the whole pageant was garnished with red and white roses; and in the forefront of the same pageant, in a fair wreath, was written the name and title of the same, which was
+THE UNITING OF THE TWO+ +HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER.+
This pageant was grounded upon the Queen Majesty's name. For like as the long war between the two Houses of YORK and LANCASTER then ended, when ELIZABETH, daughter of EDWARD IV., matched in marriage with HENRY VII., heir to the House of LANCASTER; so since that the Queen's Majesty's name was ELIZABETH, and forasmuch as she is the only heir of HENRY VIII., which came of both Houses as the knitting up of concord: it was devised that like as ELIZABETH was the first occasion of concord; so She, another ELIZABETH, might maintain the same among her subjects. So that Unity was the end, whereat the whole device shot; as the Queen's Majesty's name moved the first ground.
This pageant now against the Queen's Majesty's coming, was addressed [set forth] with children representing the forenamed personages; with all furniture due unto the setting forth of such a well-meant matter, as the argument declared, costly and sumptuously set forth, as the beholders can witness.
* * * * *
Now, the Queen's Majesty drew near unto the said pageant, and forasmuch as the noise was great, by reason of the press of people, so that she could scarce hear the child which did interpret the said pageant; and her chariot was passed so far forward that she could not well view the personages representing the Kings and Queens above named; she required to have the matter opened unto her, and what they signified, with the End of Unity, and Ground of her Name, according as is before expressed.
For the sight whereof, Her Grace caused her chariot to be removed back; and yet hardly could she see, because the children were set somewhat with the farthest in.
But after that Her Grace understood the meaning thereof, she thanked the City, praised the fairness of the work, and promised that "She would do her whole endeavour for the continual preservation of concord!" as the pageant did import.
* * * * *
The child appointed in the standing above named, to open the meaning of the said pageant, spake these words unto Her Grace.
The two Princes that sit under one Cloth of State: The Man in the red rose; the Woman in the white: HENRY the SEVENTH, and Queen ELIZABETH his mate, By ring of marriage, as man and wife unite.
Both heirs to both their bloods: to LANCASTER, the King, The Queen, to YORK; in one the two Houses do knit. Of whom, as Heir to both, HENRY the EIGHTH did spring, In whose seat, his true Heir, thou, Queen ELIZABETH! dost sit!
Therefore as civil war and shed of blood did cease; When these two Houses were united into one: So now, that jar shall stint and quietness increase, We trust, O noble Queen! thou wilt be cause alone!
The which also were written in Latin verses. And both drawn in two tables upon the forefront of the said pageant, as hereafter followeth.
Hii quos jungit idem solium, quos annulus idem: Hæc albente nitens, ille rubente rosa: SEPTIMUS HENRICUS rex, regina ELIZABETHA, Scilicet Hæredes gentis uterque suæ. Hæc EBORACENSIS, LANCASTRIUS ille dederunt Connubio e geminis quo foret una domus. Excipit hos hæres HENRICUS copula regum OCTAVUS, magni regis imago potens. Regibus hinc succedis avis regique parenti Patris justa Hæres ELIZABETHA tui.
¶ _+SENTENCES PLACED THEREIN, CONCERNING+ +UNITY.+_
Nullæ concordes animos vires domant. Qui juncti terrent, dejuncti timent. Discordes animi solvunt, concordes ligant. Augentur parva pace, magna bello cadunt. Conjunctæ manus fortius tollunt onus. Regno pro moenibus æneis civium concordia. Qui diu pugnant, diutius lugent. Dissidentes principes, subditorum lues.
Princeps ad pacem natus, non ad arma datur. Filia concordiæ copia, neptis quies. Dissentiens respublica hostibus patet. Qui idem tenent, diutius tenent. Regnum divisum facile dissolvitur. Civitas concors armis frustra tentatur. Omnium gentium consensus firmat fidem. &c.
These Verses and other pretty Sentences were drawn in void places of this pageant, all tending to one end, that quietness might be maintained and all dissention displaced: and that by the Queen's Majesty, Heir to Agreement, and agreeing in name with her which tofore had joined those Houses, which had been the occasion of much debate and Civil War with this realm (as may appear to such as well search Chronicles; but be not to be touched in this Treatise, only declaring Her Grace's Passage through the City, and what provision the City made therefore).
And ere the Queen's Majesty came within hearing of this pageant, as also at all the other pageants; she sent certain to require the people to be silent, for Her Majesty was disposed to hear all that should be said unto her.
* * * * *
When the Queen's Majesty had heard the child's oration and understood the meaning of the pageant at large; she marched forward towards Cornhill, always received with like rejoicing of the people.
And there, as Her Grace passed by the Conduit, which was curiously trimmed against that time, adorned with rich banners, and a noise of loud instruments upon the top thereof: she espied the second pageant. And because she feared, for the people's noise, that she should not hear the child which did expound the same, she inquired what that pageant was, ere that she came to it. And there understood, that there was a child representing Her Majesty's person, placed in a Seat of Government, supported by certain Virtues which suppressed their contrary Vices under their feet: and so forth, as, in the description of the said pageant, shall hereafter appear.
This pageant, standing in the nether end of Cornhill, was extended from one side of the street to the other; and, in the same pageant was devised three gates, all open: and over the middle part thereof was erected one Chair or Seat royal, with Cloth of Estate to the same appertaining, wherein was placed a child representing the Queen's Highness, with consideration had for place convenient for a table, which contained her name and title.
And in a comely wreath, artificially and well devised, with perfect sight and understanding to the people, in the front of the same pageant, was written the name and title thereof which is
+THE SEAT OF WORTHY GOVERNANCE.+
Which Seat was made in such artificial manner, as to the appearance of the lookers on, the forepart seemed to have no stay; and therefore, of force, was stayed by lively [living] personages. Which personages were in number four, standing and staying the forefront of the same Seat royal, each having his face to the Queen and the people; whereof every one had a table to express their effects. Which are Virtues, namely, PURE RELIGION, LOVE OF SUBJECTS, WISDOM, and JUSTICE; which did tread their contrary Vices under their feet: that is to wit, PURE RELIGION did tread upon IGNORANCE and SUPERSTITION, LOVE OF SUBJECTS did tread upon REBELLION and INSOLENCY, WISDOM did tread upon FOLLY and VAINGLORY, JUSTICE did tread upon ADULATION and BRIBERY. Each of these personages, according to their proper names and properties, had not only their names in plain and perfect writing set upon their breasts, easily to be read of all: but also every of them was aptly and properly apparelled; so that his apparel and name did agree to express the same person, that in title he represented. This part of the pageant was thus appointed and furnished.
The two sides over the two side ports had in them placed a noise of instruments [i.e., a band of players]; which, immediately after the child's speech, gave a heavenly melody.
Upon the top or uppermost part of the said pageant stood the Arms of England, royally portraitured; with the proper beasts to uphold the same. One representing the Queen's Highness sat in this Seat, crowned with an imperial crown: and before her seat was a convenient place appointed for one child, which did interpret and apply the said pageant as hereafter shall be declared.
Every void place was furnished with proper Sentences commending the Seat supported by the Virtues; and defacing the Vices, to the utter extirpation of rebellion, and to everlasting continuance of quietness and peace.
* * * * *
The Queen's Majesty approaching nigh unto this pageant, thus beautified and furnished in all points, caused her chariot to be drawn nigh thereunto, that Her Grace might hear the child's oration, which was this:
While that Religion True shall Ignorance suppress, And with her weighty foot, break Superstition's head; While Love of Subjects shall Rebellion distress, And with Zeal to the Prince, Insolency down tread;
While Justice can Flattering tongues and Bribery deface; While Folly and Vainglory, to Wisdom yield their hands: So long, shall Government not swerve from her right race, But Wrong decayeth still, and Righteousness upstands.
Now all thy subjects' hearts, O Prince of peerless fame! Do trust these virtues shall maintain up thy throne! And Vice be kept down still, the wicked put to shame; That good with good may joy, and naught with naught may moan!
Which Verses were painted upon the right side of the same pageant; and in Latin thereof, on the left side, in another table, which were these.
Quæ subnixa alte solio regina superbo est, Effigiem sanctæ Principis alma refert, Quam Civilis Amor fulcit, Sapientia firmat, Justicia illustrat, Religioque beat Vana Superstitio et crassæ Ignorantia frontis
Pressæ sub Pura Religione jacent. Regis Amor domat Effrænos, animosque rebelles Justus Adulantes, Donivorosque terit. Cum regit Imperium sapiens, sine luce sedebunt Stultitia, atque hujus numen inanis honor.
Beside these Verses, there were placed in every void room of the pageant, both in English and Latin, such Sentences as advanced the Seat of Governance up-holden by Virtue.
The ground of this pageant was that, like as by Virtues (which do abundantly appear in Her Grace), the Queen's Majesty was established in the Seat of Government; so she should sit fast in the same, so long as she embraced Virtue, and held Vice under foot. For if Vice once got up the head, it would put the Seat of Government in peril of falling.
* * * * *
The Queen's Majesty, when she had heard the child, and understood the pageant at full, gave the City also thanks there; and most graciously promised her good endeavour for the maintenance of the said virtues, and suppression of vices.
* * * * *
And so marched on, till she came against the Great Conduit in Cheap; which was beautified with pictures and sentences accordingly, against Her Grace's coming thither.
* * * * *
Against Soper Lane's end was extended from the one side of the street to the other, a pageant which had three gates, all open.
Over the middlemost whereof, were erected three several stages, whereon sat eight children, as hereafter followeth. On the uppermost, one child; on the middle, three; on the lowest, four; each having the proper name of the Blessing that he did represent, written in a table, and placed above his head.
In the forefront of this pageant, before the children which did represent the Blessings, was a convenient standing cast out for a child to stand, which did expound the said pageant unto the Queen's Majesty; as was done in the other before. Every of these children were appointed and apparelled according to the Blessing, which he did represent.
And on the forepart of the said pageant was written, in fair letters, the name of the said pageant, in this manner following.
+THE EIGHT BEATITUDES, EXPRESSED+ +IN THE FIFTH CHAPTER OF THE+ +GOSPEL OF SAINT MATTHEW,+ +APPLIED TO OUR SOVEREIGN+ +LADY QUEEN ELIZABETH.+
Over the two side posts was placed a noise of instruments.
And all void places in the pageant were furnished with pretty Sayings commending and touching the meaning of the said pageant; which were the Promises and Blessings of Almighty GOD made to His people.
* * * * *
Before the Queen's Highness came into this pageant, she required the matter somewhat to be opened unto her; that Her Grace might the better understand what should, afterward, by the child, be said unto her. Which was so, that the City had there erected the pageant with eight children, representing the Eight Blessings touched in the Fifth Chapter of St. Matthew; whereof every one, upon just considerations, was applied unto Her Highness. And that the people thereby put Her Grace in mind, that as her good doings before, had given just occasion why that these Blessings might fall upon her; that so, if Her Grace did continue in her goodness, as she had entered, she should hope for the fruit of these Promises, due unto them that do exercise themselves in the Blessings.
Which Her Grace heard marvellously graciously, and required that the chariot might be removed towards the pageant, that she might perceive the child's words: which were these, the Queen's Majesty giving most attentive ear, and requiring that the people's noise might be stayed.
Thou hast been eight times blest! O Queen of worthy fame! By Meekness in thy spirit, when care did thee beset! By Mourning in thy grief! by Mildness in thy blame! By Hunger and by Thirst, and justice couldst none get!
By Mercy showed, not felt! by Cleanness of thy heart! By seeking Peace always! by Persecution wrong! Therefore, trust thou in GOD! since He hath helped thy smart! That, as His Promise is, so He will make thee strong!
When these words were spoken, all the people wished that "As the child had spoken, so GOD would strengthen Her Grace against all her adversaries!" whom the Queen's Majesty did most gently thank, for their so loving wish.
* * * * *
These Verses were painted on the left side of the said pageant; and other, in Latin, on the other side, which were these:
Qui lugent hilares fient, qui mitia gestant Pectora, multa soli jugera culta metent. Justitiam esuriens sitiensve replebitur, ipsum Fas homini puro corde videre DEUM. Quem alterius miseret Dominus miserebitur hujus, Pacificus quisquis, filius ille DEI est. Propter justitiam quisquis patietur habetque Demissam mentem, cælica regna capit. Huic hominum generi terram, mare, sidera vovit Omnipotens, horum quisque beatus erit.
Besides these, every void place in the pageant was furnished with Sentences touching the matter and ground of the said pageant.
* * * * *
When all that was to be said in this pageant was ended; the Queen's Majesty passed on forward in Cheap side.
At the Standard in Cheap, which was dressed fair against the time, was placed a noise of trumpets, with banners and other furniture.
The Cross, likewise, was also made fair and well trimmed. And near unto the same, upon the porch of Saint Peter's Church door, stood the Waits of the City; which did give a pleasant noise with their instruments, as the Queen's Majesty did pass by. Who, on every side, cast her countenance, and wished well to all her most loving people.
Soon after that Her Grace passed the Cross, she had espied the pageant erected at the Little Conduit in Cheap; and incontinent required to know what it might signify. And it was told Her Grace, that there was placed TIME.
"TIME!" quoth she, "and Time hath brought me hither!" And so forth the whole matter was opened to Her Grace, as hereafter shall be declared in the description of the pageant. But when in the opening, Her Grace understood that the Bible in English, should be delivered unto her by TRUTH (which was therein represented by a child), she thanked the City for that gift, and said that she would oftentimes read over that book; commanding Sir JOHN PARRAT, one of the knights which held up her canopy, to go before, and to receive it: but learning that it should be delivered unto Her Grace, down by a silken lace, she caused him to stay.
And so passed forward till she came against the Aldermen, in the high end of Cheap, tofore the Little Conduit; where the Companies of the City ended, which began at Fanchurch [Fenchurch Street] and stood along the streets, one by another, enclosed with rails hanged with cloths, and themselves well apparelled with many rich furs, and their Livery Hoods upon their shoulders, in comely and seemly manner; having before them sundry persons well apparelled in silks and chains of gold, as Whifflers and Guarders of the said Companies: besides a number of rich hangings (as well of tapestry, arras, cloths of gold, silver, velvet, damask, satin, and other silks) plentifully hanged all the way, as the Queen's Highness passed from the Tower through the City. Out at the windows and penthouses of every house did hang a number of rich and costly banners and streamers, till Her Grace came to the upper end of Cheap.
* * * * *
And there by appointment, the Right Worshipful Master RANULPH CHOLMELEY, Recorder of the City, presented to the Queen's Majesty, a purse of crimson satin, richly wrought with gold; wherein the City gave unto the Queen's Majesty a thousand marks in gold [= £666 = about £5,000 now]; as Master Recorder did declare briefly unto the Queen's Majesty. [Compare the similar usual gift to her Mother 25 years before, at Vol. II. p. 48.] Whose words tended to this end, that "The Lord Mayor, his brethren and commonalty of the City, to declare their gladness and good will towards the Queen's Majesty, did present Her Grace with that gold; desiring Her Grace to continue their good and gracious Queen, and not to esteem the value of the gift, but the mind of the givers."
The Queen's Majesty, with both her hands took the purse, and answered to him again marvellously pithily; and so pithily that the standers by, as they embraced entirely her gracious answer, so they marvelled at the couching thereof: which was in words truly reported these. "I thank my Lord Mayor, his brethren, and you all! And whereas your request is, that I should continue your good Lady and Queen: be ye ensured that I will be as good unto you, as ever Queen was to her people! No will in me can lack! neither, do I trust, shall there lack any power! And persuade yourselves that, for the safety and quietness of you all, I will not spare, if need be, to shed my blood! GOD thank you all!"
Which answer of so noble hearted a Princess, if it moved a marvellous shout and rejoicing, it is nothing to be marvelled at; since both the heartiness thereof was so wonderful, and the words so jointly knit.
* * * * *
When Her Grace had thus answered the Recorder, she marched towards the Little Conduit; where was erected a pageant, with square proportion, standing directly before the same Conduit, with battlements accordingly. And in the same pageant were advanced two hills or mountains of convenient height.
The one of them, being on the north side of the same pageant, was made cragged, barren, and stony; in the which was erected one tree, artificially made, all withered and dead, with branches accordingly. And under the same tree, at the foot thereof, sat one, in homely and rude apparel, crookedly, and in mourning manner, having over his head in a table, written in Latin and English, his name, which was
+RUINOSA RESPUBLICA+, +A DECAYED COMMON WEAL.+
And upon the same withered tree, were fixed certain tables wherein were written proper Sentences, expressing the causes of the Decay of the Common weal.
The other hill, on the south side, was made fair, fresh, green, and beautiful; the ground thereof full of flowers and beauty. And on the same was erected also one tree, very fresh and fair; under which, stood upright one fresh personage, well apparelled and appointed; whose name also was written, both in English and in Latin, which was
+RESPUBLICA BENE INSTITUTA+, +A FLOURISHING COMMON WEAL.+
And upon the same tree also, were fixed certain tables containing Sentences, which expressed the causes of a Flourishing Common weal.
In the middle, between the said hills, was made artificially, one hollow place or cave, with door and lock enclosed; out of which, a little before the Queen's Highness's coming thither, issued one personage, whose name was TIME (apparelled as an old man, with a scythe in his hands, having wings artificially made), leading a personage, of less stature than himself, which was finely and well apparelled, all clad in white silk; and directly over her head was set her name and title, in Latin and English, TEMPORIS FILIA, THE DAUGHTER OF TIME.
Which two, so appointed, went forward, towards the south side of the pageant.
And on her breast was written her proper name, VERITAS, TRUTH; who held a book in her hand, upon the which was written, Verbum Veritatis, The Word of Truth.
And out of the south side of the pageant, was cast a standing for a child, which should interpret the same pageant.
* * * * *
Against whom, when the Queen's Majesty came, he spake unto Her Grace these words:
This old man with the scythe, old Father TIME they call: And her, his daughter TRUTH, which holdeth yonder book; Whom he out of his rock hath brought forth to us all, From whence, these many years, she durst not once outlook.
The ruthful wight that sitteth under the barren tree, Resembleth to us the form when Common weals decay; But when they be in state triumphant, you may see By him in fresh attire, that sitteth under the bay.
Now since that TIME again, his daughter TRUTH hath brought; We trust, O worthy Queen! thou wilt this Truth embrace! And since thou understandest the good estate and nought; We trust Wealth thou wilt plant, and Barrenness displace!
But for to heal the sore, and cure that is not seen, Which thing the Book of Truth doth teach in writing plain; She doth present to thee, the same, O worthy Queen! For that, that words do fly, but writing doth remain.
When the child had thus ended his speech, he reached his book towards the Queen's Majesty; which, a little before, TRUTH had let down unto him from the hill: which by Sir JOHN PARRAT was received, and delivered unto the Queen.
But she, as soon as she had received the book, kissed it; and with both her hands held up the same, and so laid it upon her breast; with great thanks to the City therefore. And so went forward toward Paul's Churchyard.
* * * * *
The former matter, which was rehearsed unto the Queen's Majesty, was written in two tables, on either side the pageant, eight verses: and in the midst, these in Latin.
Ille, vides, falcem lava qui sustinet uncam, TEMPUS is est, cui stat filia VERA comes; Hanc pater exesa deductam rupe reponit In lucem, quam non viderat ante diu. Qui sedet a læva cultu male tristis inepto, Quem duris crescens cautibus orbis obit Nos monet effigiæ, qua sit Respublica quando Corruit, at contra quando beata viget, Ille docet juvenis forma spectandus amictu Scitus, et æterna laurea fronde virens.
The Sentences, written in Latin and English upon both the trees, declaring the causes of both estates, were these:
¶ +CAUSES OF A RUINOUS COMMON+ +WEAL ARE THESE.+
Want of the Fear of GOD. Disobedience to rulers. Blindness of guides. Bribery in magistrates. Rebellion in subjects. Civil disagreement. Flattering of Princes. Unmercifulness in rulers. Unthankfulness in subjects.
¶ +CAUSES OF A FLOURISHING+ +COMMON WEAL.+
Fear of GOD. A wise Prince. Learned rulers. Obedience to officers. Obedient subjects. Lovers of the Common Weal. Virtue rewarded. Vice chastened.
The matter of this pageant dependeth of them [i.e., the pageants] that went before. For, as the first declared Her Grace to come out of the House of Unity; the second, that she is placed in the Seat of Government, stayed with virtues to the suppression of vice; and therefore in the third, the Eight Blessings of Almighty GOD might well be applied unto her: so this fourth now, is to put Her Grace in remembrance of the state of the Common Weal, which TIME, with TRUTH his daughter, doth reveal: which TRUTH also, Her Grace hath received; and therefore cannot but be merciful and careful for the good government thereof.
* * * * *
From thence, the Queen's Majesty passed towards Paul's Churchyard.
And when she came over against Paul's School, a child appointed by the Schoolmaster thereof, pronounced a certain Oration in Latin, and certain Verses: which also were there written, as follows.
Philosophus ille divinus PLATO, inter multa præclare ac sapienter dicta, hoc posteris proditum reliquit, Rempublicam illam felicissimam fore, cui Princeps sophiæ studiosa, virtutibusque ornata contigerit. Quem si vere dixisse censeamus (ut quidem verissime) cur non terra Britannica plauderet? cur non populus gaudiam atque lætitiam agitaret? immo, cur non hunc diem albo (quod aiunt) lapillo notaret? quo Princeps talis nobis adest, qualem priores non viderunt, qualemque posteritas haud facile cernere poterit, dotibus quum animi, tum corporis undique felicissima. Casti quidem corporis dotes ita apertæ sunt, ut oratione non egeant. Animi vero tot tantæque, ut ne verbis quidem exprimi possint. Hæc nempe Regibus summis orta, morum atque animi nobilitate genus exuperat. Hujus pectus CHRISTI religionis amore flagrat. Hæc gentem Britannicum virtutibus illustrabit, clipeoque justitiæ teget. Hæc literis Græcis et Latinis eximia, ingenioque præpollens est. Hac imperante, pietas vigebit, Anglia florebit, Aurea Secula redibunt. Vos igitur Angli, tot commoda accepturi, ELIZABETHAM Reginam nostram celeberrimam ab ipso CHRISTO hujus regni imperio destinatam, honore debito prosequimini. Hujus imperiis animo libentissimo subditi estote, vosque tali principe dignos præbete. Et quoniam, pueri non viribus sed precibus officium prestare possunt, nos Alumni hujus Scholæ ab ipso COLETO, olim Templi Paulini Decano, extructæ, teneras palmas ad coelum tendentes CHRISTUM Opt. Maxi. precaturi sumus, ut tuum celsitudinem annos NESTOREOS summo cum honore Anglis imperitare faciat, matremque pignoribus charis beatam reddat. Amen.
Anglia nunc tandem plaudas, lætare, re sulta, Presto jam vita est, præsidiumque tibi. En tua spes venit tua gloria, lux, decus omne Venit jam solidam quæ tibi prestat opem. Succurretque tuis rebus quæ pessum abiere. Perdita quæ fuerant hæc reparare volet Omnia florebunt, redeunt nunc aurea secla. In melius surgent quæ cecidere bona. Debes ergo illi totam te reddere fidam, Cujus in accessu commoda tot capies. Salve igitur dicas, imo de pectore summo. ELIZABETH Regni non dubitanda salus, Virgo venit, veniatque optes comitata deinceps. Pignoribus charis, loeta parens veniat. Hoc DEUS omnipotens ex alto donet Olympo, Qui cælum et terram condidit atque regit.
Which the Queen's Majesty most attentively hearkened unto. And when the child had pronounced, he did kiss the Oration, which he had there fair written on paper, and delivered it unto the Queen's Majesty, which most gently received the same.
* * * * *
And when the Queen's Majesty had heard all that was there offered to be spoken; then Her Grace marched toward Ludgate: where she was received with a noise of instruments; the forefront of the Gate being finely trimmed against Her Majesty's coming.
From thence, by the way, as she went down toward Fleet Bridge, one about Her Grace, noted the City's charge, that "there was no cost spared."
Her Grace answered, that "She did well consider the same, and that it should be remembered!" An honourable answer, worthy a noble Prince: which may comfort all her subjects, considering there can be no point of gentleness or obedient love shewed towards Her Grace; which she doth not most tenderly accept, and graciously weigh.
* * * * *
In this manner, the people on either side rejoicing, Her Grace went forward towards the Conduit in Fleet Street, where was the fifth and last pageant, erected in the form following.
From the Conduit, which was beautified with painting, unto the north side of the street, was erected a Stage embattled with four towers, and in the same, a square plat rising with degrees.
Upon the uppermost degree was placed a Chair or royal Seat; and behind the same Seat, in curious artificial manner, was erected a tree of reasonable height, and so far advanced above the seat as it did well and seemly shadow the same, without endamaging the sight of any part of the pageant. And the same tree was beautified with leaves as green as Art could devise, being of a convenient greatness and containing thereupon the fruit of the date tree; and on the top of the same tree, in a table was set the name thereof, which was, A Palm Tree.
And in the aforesaid Seat or Chair was a seemly and meet personage, richly apparelled in Parliament robes, with a sceptre in her hand, as a Queen; crowned with an open crown: whose name and title were in a table fixed over her head in this sort, DEBORAH, The Judge and Restorer of Israel. Judic. 4.
And the other degrees, on either side, were furnished with six personages; two representing the Nobility, two the Clergy, and two the Commonalty. And before these personages, was written in a table,
+DEBORAH, WITH HER ESTATES,+ +CONSULTING FOR THE GOOD+ +GOVERNMENT OF ISRAEL.+
At the feet of these, and the lowest part of the pageant, was ordained a convenient room for a child to open the meaning of the pageant.
* * * * *
When the Queen's Majesty drew near unto this pageant; and perceived, as in the others, the child ready to speak: Her Grace required silence, and commanded her chariot to be removed nigher that she might plainly hear the child speak; which said, as hereafter followeth:
JABIN, of Canaan King, had long, by force of arms, Oppressed the Israelites; which for GOD's People went: But GOD minding, at last, for to redress their harms; The worthy DEBORAH, as Judge among them sent.
In war, She, through GOD's aid, did put her foes to flight, And with the dint of sword the band of bondage brast; In peace, She, through GOD's aid, did always maintain right And judgèd Israel, till forty years were past.
A worthy precedent, O worthy Queen! thou hast! A worthy woman, Judge! a woman sent for Stay! And that the like to us, endure always thou may'st; Thy loving subjects will, with true hearts and tongues, pray!
Which verses were written upon the pageant: and the same in Latin also.
Quando DEI populum Canaan, rex pressit JABIN, Mittitur a magno DEBORA magna DEO: Quæ populum eriperet, sanctum servaret Judan, Milite quæ patrio frangeret hostis opes. Hæc Domino mandante DEO lectissima fecit Foemina, et adversos contudit ense viros. Hæc quater denos populum correxerat annos Judicio, bello strenua, pace gravis. Sic, O sic, populum, belloque et pace, guberna! DEBORA sis Anglis, ELIZABETHA tuis!
The void places of the pageant were filled with pretty Sentences concerning the same matter.
The ground of this last pageant was, that forasmuch as the next pageant before, had set before Her Grace's eyes the Flourishing and Desolate States of a Common Weal; she might by this, be put in remembrance to consult for the worthy Government of her people; considering GOD, ofttimes, sent women nobly to rule among men, as DEBORAH which governed Israel in peace, the space of forty years; and that it behoveth both men and women so ruling, to use advice of good counsel.
* * * * *
When the Queen's Majesty had passed this pageant; she marched towards Temple Bar.
But at St. Dunstan's, where the children of the Hospital [i.e., Christ's Hospital, now known as the Blue Coat School, see p. 246], were appointed to stand with their Governors; Her Grace perceiving a child offered to make an oration unto her, stayed her chariot; and did cast up her eyes to heaven, as who should say, "I here see this merciful work towards the poor; whom I must, in the midst of my royalty, needs remember." And so, turned her face towards the child, which, in Latin, pronounced an Oration to this effect.
That after the Queen's Highness had passed through the City; and had seen so sumptuous, rich, and noble spectacles of the citizens, which declared their most hearty receiving and most joyous welcoming of Her Grace into the same: this one Spectacle yet rested and remained; which was the everlasting Spectacle of Mercy unto the poor members of Almighty GOD, furthered by that famous and most noble Prince, King HENRY VIII., Her Grace's Father; erected by the City of London; and advanced by the most godly, virtuous, and gracious Prince, King EDWARD VI., Her Grace's dear and loving brother. Doubting nothing of the mercy of the Queen's most gracious clemency: by the which they may not only be relieved and helped, but also stayed and defended; and therefore incessantly, they would pray and cry unto Almighty GOD for the long life and reign of Her Highness, with most prosperous victory against her enemies.
The child, after he had ended his Oration, kissed the paper wherein the same was written, and reached it to the Queen's Majesty; who received it graciously both with words and countenance, declaring her gracious mind towards their relief.
* * * * *
From thence, Her Grace came to Temple Bar, which was dressed finely, with the two images of GOTMAGOT the Albion, and CORINEUS the Briton; two giants big in stature, furnished accordingly: which held in their hands, even above the gate, a table, wherein was written, in Latin verses, the effect of all the pageants which the City before had erected. Which Verses are these:
Ecce sub aspectu jam contemplaberis uno O Princeps populi sola columna tui! Quicquid in immensa passim perspexeris urbe Quæ cepere omnes unus hic arcus habet. Primus, te solio regni donavit aviti, Hæres quippe tui vera parentis eras. Suppressis vitiis, domina virtute, Secundus, Firmavit sedem regia virgo tuam. Tertius, ex omni posuit teparte beatam Si, qua coepisti pergere velle, velis. Quarto, quid verum, Respublica Lapsa quid esset, Quæ Florens staret te docuere tui. Quinto, magna loco monuit te DEBORA, missam Cælitus in regni gaudia longa tui. Perge ergo Regina! tuæ spes unica gentis! Hæc Postrema urbis suscipe Vota tuæ. "Vive diu! regnaque diu! virtutibus orna Rem patriam, et populi spem tueare tui! Sic, O sic petitur coelum! Sic itur in astra! Hoc virtutis opus, cætera mortis erunt!"
Which Verses were also written in English metre, in a lesse[r] table, as hereafter followeth.
Behold here, in one view, thou mayst see all that plain; O Princess, to this thy people, the only stay! What eachwhere thou hast seen in this wide town; again, This one Arch, whatsoever the rest contained, doth say.
The First Arch, as true Heir unto thy Father dear, Did set thee in thy Throne, where thy Grandfather sat! The Second, did confirm thy Seat as Princess here; Virtues now bearing sway, and Vices beat down flat!
The Third, if that thou wouldst go on as thou began, Declareth thee to be blessed on every side! The Fourth did open Truth, and also taught thee when The Common Weal stood well, and when it did thence slide!
The Fifth, as DEBORAH, declared thee to be sent From heaven, a long comfort to us thy subjects all! Therefore, go on, O Queen! (on whom our hope is bent) And take with thee, this wish of thy Town as final!
"Live long! and as long, reign! adorning thy country With virtues; and maintain thy people's hope of thee! For thus, thus heaven is won! thus, must thou pierce the sky! This is by virtue wrought! All other must needs die!"
On the south side [i.e., of Fleet Street, at Temple Bar] was appointed by the City, a noise of singing children; and one child richly attired as a Poet, which gave the Queen's Majesty her Farewell, in the name of the whole City, by these words.
As at thine Entrance first, O Prince of high renown! Thou wast presented with Tongues and Hearts for thy fair; So now, sith thou must needs depart out of this Town, This City sendeth thee firm Hope and earnest Prayer!
For all men hope in thee, that all virtues shall reign; For all men hope that thou, none error wilt support; For all men hope that thou wilt Truth restore again, And mend that is amiss; to all good men's comfort!
And for this Hope, they pray thou mayst continue long Our Queen amongst us here, all vice for to supplant! And for this Hope, they pray that GOD may make thee strong, As by His grace puissant, so in His truth constant!
Farewell! O worthy Queen! and as our hope is sure, That into Error's place, thou wilt now Truth restore! So trust we that thou wilt our sovereign Queen endure And loving Lady stand, from henceforth, evermore!
While these words were in saying, and certain wishes therein repeated for the maintenance of Truth, and rooting out of Error; she, now and then, held up her hands to heaven-ward, and willed the people to say "Amen!"
When the child had ended, she said, "Be ye well assured, I will stand your good Queen!"
At which saying, Her Grace departed forth, through Temple Bar towards Westminster, with no less shooting [i.e., firing of guns] and crying of the people, than, when she entered the City, with a great noise of ordnance which the Tower shot off, at Her Grace's entrance first into Tower Street.
* * * * *
The child's saying was also, in Latin verses, written in a table which was hanged up there.
O Regina potens! quum primam urbem ingredereris Dona tibi, Linguas fidaque Corda dedit. Discedenti etiam tibi nunc duo munera mittit, Omina plena Spei, votaque plena Precum. Quippe tuis Spes est, in te quod provida virtus Rexerit, errori nec locus ullus erit. Quippe tuis Spes est, quod ut verum omne reduces Solatura bonas, dum mala tollis, opes. Hac Spe freti orant, longum ut Regina gubernes, Et regni excindas crimina cuncta tui. Hac Spe freti orant, divina ut gratia fortem, Et veræ fidei te velit esse basin. Jam, Regina, vale! et sicut nos spes tenet una, Quod vero indueto, perditus error erit. Sic quoque speramus quod eris Regina benigna Nobis per regni tempora longa tui!
Thus the Queen's Highness passed through the City! which, without any foreign person, of itself, beautified itself; and received Her Grace at all places, as hath been before mentioned, with most tender obedience and love, due to so gracious a Queen, and sovereign Lady.
And Her Grace likewise, of her side, in all Her Grace's Passage, shewed herself generally an Image of a worthy Lady and Governor; but privately these especial points were noted in Her Grace, as signs of a most Prince-like courage, whereby her loving subjects may ground a sure hope for the rest of her gracious doings hereafter.
Certain Notes of the Queen's Majesty's great mercy, clemency, and wisdom used in this Passage.
About the nether end of Cornhill, toward Cheap, one of the Knights about Her Grace, had espied an ancient Citizen which wept, and turned his head back. And therewith said this Gentleman, "Yonder is an Alderman," for so he termed him, "which weepeth, and turneth his face backward! How may it be interpreted that he doth so? For sorrow! or for gladness?"
The Queen's Majesty heard him; and said, "I warrant you, it is for gladness!" A gracious interpretation of a noble courage, which would turn the doubtful to the best. And yet it was well known, that (as Her Grace did confirm the same) the party's cheer was moved, for very pure gladness for the sight of Her Majesty's person; at the beholding whereof, he took such comfort, that with tears he expressed the same.
In Cheapside, Her Grace smiled; and being thereof demanded the cause, answered, "For that she had heard one say, Remember old King HENRY VIII!" A natural child! which at the very remembrance of her father's name took so great a joy; that all men may well think that as she rejoiced at his name whom this Realm doth hold of so worthy memory, so, in her doings, she will resemble the same.
When the City's charge without partiality, and only the City, was mentioned unto Her Grace; she said, "It should not be forgotten!" Which saying might move all natural Englishmen heartily to shew due obedience and entireness to their so good a Queen, which will, in no point, forget any parcel of duty lovingly shewed unto her.
The answer which Her Grace made unto Master Recorder of London, as the hearers know it to be true and with melting hearts heard the same, so may the reader thereof conceive what kind of stomach and courage pronounced the same.
What more famous thing do we read in ancient histories of old time, than that mighty Princes have gently received presents offered them by base and low personages. If that be to be wondered at, as it is passingly! let me see any writer that in any one Prince's life is able to recount so many precedents of this virtue, as Her Grace shewed in that one Passage through the City. How many nosegays did Her Grace receive at poor women's hands? How ofttimes stayed she her chariot, when she saw any simple body offer to speak to Her Grace? A branch of rosemary given to Her Grace, with a supplication, by a poor woman, about Fleet Bridge, was seen in her chariot till Her Grace came to Westminster; notwithstanding the marvellous wondering of such as knew the presenter, and noted the Queen's most gracious receiving and keeping the same.
What hope the poor and needy may look for, at Her Grace's hand; she, as in all her journey continually, so in her hearkening to the poor children of Christ's Hospital, with eyes cast up unto heaven, did fully declare; as that neither the wealthier estate could stand without consideration had to the poverty, neither the poverty be duly considered unless they were remembered, as commanded to us by GOD's own mouth.
As at her first Entrance, she, as it were, declared herself prepared to pass through a City that most entirely loved her; so she, at her last Departing, as it were, bound herself by promise to continue good Lady and Governor unto that City, which, by outward declaration, did open their love to their so loving and noble Prince, in such wise as she herself wondered thereat.
* * * * *
But because Princes be set in their Seat by GOD's appointment, and therefore they must first and chiefly render the glory of Him from whom their glory issueth; it is to be noted in Her Grace, that, forasmuch as GOD hath so wonderfully placed her in the Seat of Government over this realm; she in all doings, doth shew herself most mindful of His goodness and mercy shewed unto her. And amongst all other, two principal signs thereof were noted in this Passage.
First, in the Tower: where Her Grace, before she entered her chariot, lifted up her eyes to heaven, and said:
O LORD! Almighty and everlasting GOD! I give Thee most hearty thanks, that as Thou hast been so merciful unto me, as to spare me to behold this joyful day! And I acknowledge that Thou hast dealt as wonderfully and mercifully with me, as Thou didst with thy true and faithful servant DANIEL, the prophet; whom thou deliveredst out of the den, from the cruelty of the greedy and raging lions: even so, was I overwhelmed, and only by Thee! delivered. To Thee! therefore, only, be thanks, honour, and praise for ever! Amen.
The second was, the receiving of the Bible, at the Little Conduit, in Cheap. For when Her Grace had learned that the Bible in English, should there be offered; she thanked the City therefore, promised the reading thereof most diligently, and incontinent commanded that it should be brought. At the receipt whereof, how reverently, she did, with both her hands, take it! kiss it! and lay it on her breast! to the great comfort of the lookers on!
GOD will undoubtedly preserve so worthy a Prince; which, at His honour, so reverently taketh her beginning. For this saying is true, and written in the Book of Truth: "He that first seeketh the Kingdom of GOD, shall have all other things cast unto him."
Now, therefore, all English hearts, and her natural people must needs praise GOD's mercy, which hath sent them so worthy a Prince; and pray for Her Grace's long continuance amongst us.
#Imprinted at London in Fleet Street# #within Temple Bar, at the sign of the# #Hand and Star, by Richard Tottill,# #the .rriii. day of January.# [1559]
Rev. +WILLIAM HARRISON+, B.D.
Canon of Windsor, and Rector of Radwinter.
ELIZABETH arms England, which MARY had left defenceless.
[Book II., Chap. 16 of Description of England, in HOLINSHED's Chronicle. Ed. 1587[-8]. Reprinted by F. J. FURNIVALL, M.A., for New Shakspere Society, p. 278, Ed. 1877.]
How well, and how strongly our country hath been furnished, in times past, with armour and artillery, it lieth not in me, as of myself to make rehearsal.
Yet that it lacked both, in the late time of Queen MARY; not only the experience of mine elders, but also the talk of certain Spaniards, not yet forgotten, did leave some manifest notice.
Upon the first, I need not stand: for few will deny it.
For the second, I have heard that when one of the greatest Peers of Spain [evidently in Queen MARY's reign] espied our nakedness in this behalf, and did solemnly utter in no obscure place, that "It should be an easy matter, in short time, to conquer England; because it wanted armour!" his words were then not so rashly uttered, as they were politicly noted.
For, albeit, that, for the present time, their efficacy was dissembled; and semblance made as though he spake but merrily: yet at the very Entrance of this our gracious Queen unto the possession of the Crown, they were so providently called to remembrance, and such speedy reformation sought, of all hands, for the redress of this inconveniency, that our country was sooner furnished with armour and munition from divers parts of the main [the Continent], besides great plenty that was forged here at home, than our enemies could get understanding of any such provision to be made.
By this policy also, was the no small hope conceived by Spaniards utterly cut off; who (of open friends, being now become our secret enemies; and thereto watching a time wherein to achieve some heavy exploit against us and our country) did thereupon change their purposes: whereby England obtained rest; that otherwise might have been sure of sharp and cruel wars.
Thus a Spanish word uttered by one man at one time, overthrew, or, at the least, hindered sundry privy practices of many at another time.
* * * * *
In times past, the chief force of England consisted in their long bows. But now we have in manner generally given over that kind of artillery, and for long bows indeed, do practice to shoot compass for our pastime; which kind of shooting can never yield any smart stroke, nor beat down our enemies, as our countrymen were wont to do, at every time of need. Certes, the Frenchmen and Reitters [i.e., Reiters, the German or Swiss Lance-knights] deriding our new archery, in respect of their corslets, will not let, in open skirmish, if any leisure serve, to turn up their tails, and cry, "Shoot, English!" and all because our strong shooting is decayed, and laid in bed.
But if some of our Englishmen now lived, that served King EDWARD III. in his wars with France: the breech of such a varlet had been nailed to his back with one arrow; and another feathered in his bowels, before he should have turned about to see who shot the first.
But as our shooting is thus, in manner, utterly decayed among us one way: so our countrymen wax skilful in sundry other points; as in shooting in small pieces, the caliver, and handling of the pike; in the several uses whereof, they are become very expert.
Our armour differeth not from that of other nations; and therefore consisteth of corslets, almain rivets, shirts of mail, jacks quilted and covered with leather, fustian, or canvas over thick plates of iron that are sewed in the same. Of which, there is no town or village that hath not her convenient furniture. The said armour and munition likewise is kept in one several place of every town, appointed by the consent of the whole parish; where it is always ready to be had and worn within an hour's warning.
Sometimes also it is occupied [used], when it pleaseth the magistrate, either to view the able men and take note of the well keeping of the same; or finally to see those that are enrolled, to exercise each one his several weapon: at the charge of the townsmen of each parish, according to his appointment. Certes there is almost no village so poor in England, be it never so small, that hath not sufficient furniture in a readiness to set forth three or four soldiers (as, one archer, one gunner, one pike, and a bill-man), at the least. No, there is not so much wanting as their very liveries [uniforms] and caps; which are least to be accounted of, if any haste required. So that if this good order continue, it shall be impossible for the sudden enemy to find us unprovided.
As for able men for service, thanked be GOD! we are not without good store. For by the Musters taken in 1574 and 1575, our number amounted to 1,172,674; and yet they were not so narrowly taken, but that a third part of this like multitude was left unbilled and uncalled.
What store of munition and armour, the Queen's Majesty hath in her storehouses, it lieth not in me to yield account; sith I suppose the same to be infinite. And whereas it was commonly said, after the loss of Calais, that England would never recover the store of ordnance there left and lost; the same is proved false: since some of the same persons do now confess that this land was never better furnished with these things in any King's days, since the Conquest.
The names of our greatest ordnance are commonly these:
Robinet, whose weight is 200 lbs.; and it hath 1-1/4 inches within the mouth.
Falconet, weighing 500 lbs., and his wideness is 2 inches within the mouth.
Falcon hath 800 lbs., and 2-1/2 inches within the mouth.
Minion poiseth [weigheth] 1,100 lbs., and hath 3-1/4 inches within the mouth.
Sacre hath 1,500 lbs., and is 3-1/2 inches wide in the mouth.
Demi-Culverin weigheth 3,000 lbs., and hath 4-1/2 inches within the mouth.
Culverin hath 4,000 lbs., and 5-1/2 inches within the mouth.
Demi-Cannon, 6,000 lbs., and 6-1/2 inches within the mouth.
Cannon, 7,000 lbs., and 8 inches within the mouth.
E. Cannon, 8,000 lbs., and 7 inches within the mouth.
Basilisk, 9,000 lbs., and 8-3/4 inches within the mouth.
By which proportions, also, it is easy to come by the weight of every shot, how many scores [i.e., of yards] it doth fly at point blank, how much powder is to be had to the same, and finally how many inches in height, each bullet ought to carry.
The names of the Weight of Scores [of Pounds of Height of Great Ordnance the Shot. yards] of Powder. Bullet. hath lbs. carriage. Inches.
Robinet 1 10 1/2 1
Falconet 2 14 2 1-1/4
Falcon 2-1/2 16 2-1/2 2-1/4
Minion 4-1/2 17 4-1/2 3
Sacre. 5 18 5 3-1/4
Demi-Culverin 9 20 9 4
Culverin 18 25 18 5-1/4
Demi-Cannon 30 38 28 6-3/4
Cannon 60 20 44 7-3/4
E. Cannon 42 20 20 6-3/4
Basilisk 60 21 60 8-1/4
As for the Armouries of some of the Nobility (whereof I also have seen a part), they are so well furnished, that within some one Baron's custody, I have seen three score or a hundred corslets at once; besides calivers, hand-guns, bows, sheafs of arrows, pikes, bills, pole-axes, flasks, touch-boxes, targets, &c.: the very sight whereof appalled my courage.
* * * * *
Seldom shall you see any of my countrymen, above eighteen or twenty years old, to go without a dagger at the least, at his back or by his side; although they be aged burgesses or magistrates of any city who, in appearance, are most exempt from brabling and contention.
Our Nobility commonly wear swords or rapiers, with their daggers; as doth every common serving man also that followeth his lord and master.
* * * * *
Finally, no man travelleth by the way, without his sword or some such weapon, with us; except the Minister, who commonly weareth none at all, unless it be a dagger or hanger at his side.
ALCILIA:
PHILOPARTHEN's
Loving Folly.
Non Deus (ut perhibent) amor est, sed amaror, et error.
AT LONDON.
Printed by R. R. for William Mattes, dwelling in Fleet street, at the sign of the Hand and Plough. 1595.
[The only copy of the 1595 edition, at present known, is in the City Library, at Hamburg.
It was recovered, and reprinted in 1875 by Herr WILHELM WAGNER, Ph.D., in Vol. X. of the Deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft Jahrbuch; copies of this particular text being also separately printed.
A limited Subscription edition, of fifty-one copies, was printed by Rev. A. B. GROSART, LL.D., F.S.A., of Blackburn, in 1879: with a fresh collation of the text by B. S. LEESON, Esq., of Hamburg.
The present modernized text is based on a comparison of the above two reprints of the 1595 edition with the text of the London edition of 1613 in which some headings (herein inserted between [], on pp. 256, 276, 278) first occur.]
A Letter written by a Gentleman to the Author, his friend.
+FRIEND PHILOPARTHEN+,
In perusing your Loving Folly, and your Declining from it; I do behold Reason conquering Passion. The infirmity of loving argueth you are a man; the firmness thereof, discovereth a good wit and the best nature: and the falling from it, true virtue. Beauty was always of force to mislead the wisest; and men of greatest perfection have had no power to resist Love. The best are accompanied with vices, to exercise their virtues; whose glory shineth brightest in resisting motives of pleasure, and in subduing affections. And though I cannot altogether excuse your Loving Folly; yet I do the less blame you, in that you loved such a one as was more to be commended for her virtue, than beauty: albeit even for that too, she was so well accomplished with the gifts of Nature as in mine conceit (which, for good cause, I must submit as inferior to yours) there was nothing wanting, either in the one or the other, that might add more to her worth, except it were a more due and better regard of your love; which she requited not according to your deserts, nor answerable to herself in her other parts of perfection. Yet herein it appeareth you have made good use of Reason; that being heretofore lost in youthful vanity, have now, by timely discretion, found yourself!
Let me entreat you to suffer these your Passionate Sonnets to be published! which may, peradventure, make others, possessed with the like Humour of Loving, to follow your example, in leaving; and move other ALCILIAS (if there be any) to embrace deserving love, while they may!
Hereby, also, she shall know, and, it may be, inwardly repent the loss of your love, and see how much her perfections are blemished by ingratitude; which will make your happiness greater by adding to your reputation, than your contentment could have been in enjoying her love. At the least wise, the wiser sort, however in censuring them, they may dislike of your errors; yet they cannot but commend and allow of your reformation: and all others that shall with indifferency read them, may reap thereby some benefit, or contentment.
Thus much I have written as a testimony of the good will I bear you! with whom I do suffer or rejoice according to the quality of your misfortune or good hap. And so I take my leave; resting, as always,
Yours most assured, +PHILARETES.+
Author ipse ~philoparthenos~ ad libellum suum.
Parve liber Domini vanos dicture labores, Insomnes noctes, sollicitosque dies, Errores varios, languentis tædia vitæ, Mærores certos, gaudia certa minus, Peruigiles curas, suspiria, vota, querelas, Et quæcunque pati dura coegit amor. I precor intrepidus, duram comiterque salutans Hæc me ejus causa sustinuisse refer. Te grato excipiet vultu rubicundula, nomen Cum titulo inscriptum viderit esse suum. Forsitan et nostri miserebitur ilia doloris, Dicet et, ah quantum deseruisse dolet: Seque nimis soevam, crudelemque ipsa vocabit, Cuinon est fidei debita cura meæ; Quod siquidem eveniet, Domino solaminis illud, Et tibi supremi muneris instar erit. Si quis (ut est æquum) fatuos damnaverit ignes, Pigritiæ fructus ingeniique levis: Tu Dominum cæcis tenebris errasse, sed ipsum Erroris tandem pænituisse sui, Me quoque re vera nec tot, nec tanta tulisse, Sed ficta ad placitum multa fuisse refer. Ab quanto satius (nisi mens mihi vana) fuisset Ista meo penitus delituisse sinu: Quam levia in lucem prodire, aut luce carentis Insanam Domini prodere stultitiam. Nil amor est aliud, quam mentis morbus et error. Nil sapienter agit, nil bene, quisquis amat. Sed non cuique datur sapere, aut melioribus uti, Forte erit alterius, qui meus error erat. Cautior incedit, qui nunquam labitur, atqui Jam proprio evadam cautior ipse malo. Si cui delicto gravior mea poena videtur; Illius in laudes officiosus eris. Te si quis simili qui carpitur igne videbit, Ille suam sortem flebit, et ille meam. ALCILIÆ obsequium supplex præstare memento, Non minima officii pars erit illa tui. Te fortasse sua secura recondet in arca, Et Solis posthæc luminis orbus eris. Nil referet, fateor me non prudenter amasse; Ultima deceptæ sors erit illa spei. Bis proprio PHOEBUS cursu lustraverat orbem, Conscius erroris, stultitioeque meæ, A quo primus amor coepit penetrare medullas, Et falsa accensos nutriit arte focos. Desino jam nugas amplecti, seria posthæc (Ut Ratio monet) ac utiliora sequor.
Amoris Præludium.
[Vel, Epistola ad Amicam.]
To thee, ALCILIA! solace of my youth! These rude and scattered rhymes I have addressed! The certain Witness of my Love and Truth, That truly cannot be in words expressed: Which, if I shall perceive thou tak'st in gree, I will, from henceforth, write of none but thee!
Here may you find the wounds yourself have made! The many sorrows, I have long sustained! Here may you see that LOVE must be obeyed! How much I hoped, how little I have gained! That as for you, the pains have been endured; Even so by you, they may, at length, be cured!
I will not call for aid to any Muse (It is for learned Poets so to do): Affection must, my want of Art excuse, My works must have their patronage from You! Whose sweet assistance, if obtain I might! I should be able both to speak and write.
[Sidenote: Nemini datur amare simul et sapere.]
Meanwhile, vouchsafe to read this, as assigned To no man's censure; but to yours alone! Pardon the faults, that you therein shall find; And think the writer's heart was not his own! Experience of examples daily prove "That no man can be well advised, and love!"
And though the work itself deserve it not (Such is your Worth, with my great Wants compared!); Yet may my love unfeignèd, without spot, Challenge so much (if more cannot be spared!). Then, lovely Virgin! take this in good part! The rest, unseen, is sealed up in the heart.
Judge not by this, the depth of my affection! Which far exceeds the measure of my skill; But rather note herein your own perfection! So shall appear my want of Art, not will: Wherefore, this now, as part in lieu of greater, I offer as an insufficient debtor!
Sic incipit Stultorum Tragicomedia.
It was my chance, unhappy chance to me! As, all alone, I wandered on my way; Void of distrust, from doubt of dangers free, To pass a grove where LOVE in ambush lay; Who aiming at me with his feathered dart, Conveyed it by mine eye unto my heart.
Where, retchless boy! he let the arrow stick, When I, as one amazèd, senseless stood. The hurt was great, yet seemèd but a prick! The wound was deep, and yet appeared no blood! But inwardly it bleeds. Proof teacheth this. When wounds do so, the danger greater is.
Pausing a while, and grievèd with my wound, I looked about, expecting some relief: Small hope of help, no ease of pain I found. Like, all at once, to perish in my grief: When hastily, I pluckèd forth the dart; But left the head fast fixèd in my heart.
Fast fixèd in my heart, I left the head, From whence I doubt it will not be removed. Ah, what unlucky chance that way me led? O LOVE! thy force thou might'st elsewhere have proved! And shewed thy power, where thou art not obeyed! "The conquest's small, where no resist is made."
But nought, alas, avails it to complain; I rest resolved, with patience to endure. The fire being once dispersed through every vein, It is too late to hope for present cure. Now PHILOPARTHEN must new follies prove, And learn a little, what it is to love!
These Sonnets following were written by the Author (who giveth himself this feigned name of PHILOPARTHEN as his accidental attribute), at divers times, and upon divers occasions; and therefore in the form and matter they differ, and sometimes are quite contrary one to another: which ought not to be misliked, considering the very nature and quality of Love; which is a Passion full of variety, and contrariety in itself.
I.
[Sidenote: Ut vidi, ut perii, ut me malus abstulit error.]
Vnhappy Eyes! that first my heart betrayed, Had you not seen, my grief had not been such! And yet, how may I, justly, you upbraid! Since what I saw delighted me so much? But hence, alas, proceedeth all my smart: Unhappy Eyes! that first betrayed my heart!
II.
To seek adventures, as Fate hath assigned, My slender Bark now floats upon the main; Each troubled thought, an Oar; each sigh, a Wind, Whose often puffs have rent my Sails in twain. LOVE steers the Boat, which (for that sight, he lacks) Is still in danger of ten thousand wracks.
III.
What sudden chance hath changed my wonted cheer, Which makes me other than I seem to be? My days of joy, that once were bright and clear, Are turned to nights! my mirth, to misery! Ah, well I ween that somewhat is amiss; But, sooth to say, I know not what it is!
IV.
What, am I dead? Then could I feel no smart! But still in me the sense of grief reviveth. Am I alive? Ah, no! I have no heart; For she that hath it, me of life depriveth. O that she would restore my heart again; Or give me hers, to countervail my pain!
V.
If it be Love, to waste long hours in grief; If it be Love, to wish, and not obtain; If it be Love, to pine without relief; If it be Love, to hope and never gain; Then may you think that he hath truly loved, Who, for your sake! all this and more, hath proved!
VI.
If that, in ought, mine eyes have done amiss; Let them receive deservèd punishment! For so the perfect rule of Justice is, Each for his own deeds, should be praised, or shent. Then, doubtless, is it both 'gainst Law and Sense, My Heart should suffer for mine Eyes' offence.
VII.
I am not sick, and yet I am not sound; I eat and sleep, and yet, methinks, I thrive not. I sport and laugh, and yet my griefs abound; I am not dead, and yet, methinks, I live not. "What uncouth cause hath these strange passions bred, To make at once, sick, sound, alive, and dead?"
VIII.
Something I want; but what, I cannot say. O, now I know! It is myself I want! My Love, with her, hath ta'en my heart away; Yea, heart and all, and left me very scant. "Such power hath Love, and nought but Love alone, To make divided creatures live in one."
IX.
PHILOPARTHEN. "Come, gentle Death! and strike me with thy dart! Life is but loathsome to a man opprest." DEATH. "How can I kill thee! when thou hast no heart? That which thou hadst, is in another's breast!" PHILOPARTHEN. "Then, must I live, and languish still in pain?" DEATH. "Yea, till thy Love restore thy heart again!"
X.
Were Love a Fire, my tears might quench it lightly; Or were it Water, my hot heart might dry it. If Air, then might it pass away more slightly; Or were it Earth, the world might soon descry it. If Fire nor Water, Air nor Earth it be; What then is it, that thus tormenteth me?
XI.
To paint her outward shape and gifts of mind, It doth exceed my wit and cunning far. She hath no fault, but that she is unkind. All other parts in her so complete are, That who, to view them throughly would devise, Must have his body nothing else but eyes.
XII.
Fair is my Love! whose parts are so well framed, By Nature's special order and direction; That She herself is more than half ashamed, In having made a work of such perfection. And well may Nature blush at such a feature; Seeing herself excelled in her creature.
XIII.
Her body is straight, slender, and upright; Her visage comely, and her looks demure Mixt with a cheerful grace that yields delight; Her eyes, like stars, bright, shining, clear and pure: Which I describing, LOVE bids stay my pen, And says, "It's not a work for mortal men!"
XIV.
The ancient poets write of Graces three, Which meeting all together in one creature, In all points, perfect make the Frame to be; For inward virtues, and for outward feature But smile, ALCILIA! and the world shall see That in thine eyes, a hundred Graces be!
XV.
As LOVE had drawn his bow, ready to shoot, Aiming at me, with resolute intent; Straight, bow and shaft he cast down at his foot, And said, "Why, needless, should one shaft be spent? I'll spare it then, and now it shall suffice Instead of shafts, to use ALCILIA's eyes."
XVI.
Blush not, my Love! for fear lest PHOEBUS spy! Which if he do, then, doubtless, he will say, "Thou seek'st to dim his clearness with thine eye!" That clearness, which, from East, brings gladsome day: But most of all, lest JOVE should see, I dread; And take thee up to heaven like GANYMEDE.
XVII.
PHILOPARTHEN. "What is the cause ALCILIA is displeased?" LOVE. "Because she wants that which should most content her." PHILOPARTHEN. "O did I know it, soon should she be eased!" LOVE. "Perhaps, thou dost! and that doth most torment her." PHILOPARTHEN. "Yet, let her ask! what she desires to have." LOVE. "Guess, by thyself! For maidens must not crave!"
XVIII.
My Love, by chance, her tender finger pricked; As, in the dark, I strivèd for a kiss: Whose blood, I seeing, offered to have licked, But half in anger, she refusèd this. O that she knew the difference of the smart 'Twixt her pricked finger, and my piercèd heart!
XIX.
PHILOPARTHEN. "I pray thee, tell! What makes my heart to tremble, When, on a sudden, I, ALCILIA spy?" LOVE. "Because thy heart cannot thy joy dissemble! Thy life and death are both lodged in her eye." PHILOPARTHEN. "Dost thou not her, with self-same passion strike?" LOVE. "O, no! Her heart and thine are not alike."
XX.
Such are thy parts of body and of mind; That if I should not love thee as I do, I should too much degenerate from Kind, And think the world would blame my weakness too. For he, whom such perfections cannot move, Is either senseless, or not born to love.
XXI.
ALCILIA's eyes have set my heart on fire, The pleasing object that my pain doth feed: Yet still to see those eyes I do desire, As if my help should from my hurt proceed. Happy were I, might there in her be found A will to heal, as there was power to wound.
XXII.
Unwise was he, that painted LOVE a boy; Who, for his strength, a giant should have been. It's strange a child should work so great annoy; Yet howsoever strange, too truly seen. "But what is he? that dares at LOVE repine; Whose works are wonders, and himself divine!"
XXIII.
My fair ALCILIA! gladly would I know it, If ever Loving Passion pierced thy heart? O, no! For, then, thy kindness soon would show it! And of my pains, thyself wouldst bear some part. Full little knoweth he that hath not proved, What hell it is to love, and not be loved.
XXIV.
LOVE! Art thou blind? Nay, thou canst see too well! And they are blind that so report of thee! That thou dost see, myself by proof can tell; (A hapless proof thereof is made by me); For sure I am, hadst thou not had thy sight, Thou never couldst have hit my heart so right.
XXV.
Long have I languished, and endured much smart Since hapless I, the Cruel Fair did love; And lodged her in the centre of my heart. Who, there abiding, Reason should her move. Though of my pains she no compassion take; Yet to respect me, for her own sweet sake.
XXVI.
In midst of winter season, as the snow, Whose milk white mantle overspreads the ground; In part, the colour of my love is so. Yet their effects, I have contrary found: For when the sun appears, snow melts anon; But I melt always when my sun is gone.
XXVII.
The sweet content, at first, I seemed to prove (While yet Desire unfledged, could scarcely fly), Did make me think there was no life to Love; Till all too late, Time taught the contrary. For, like a fly, I sported with the flame; Till, like a fool, I perished in the same.
XXVIII.
After dark night, the cheerful day appeareth; After an ebb, the river flows again; After a storm, the cloudy heaven cleareth: All labours have their end, or ease of pain. Each creature hath relief and rest, save I, Who only dying, live; and living, die!
XXIX.
Sometimes I seek for company to sport, Whereby I might my pensive thoughts beguile; Sometimes, again, I hide me from resort, And muse alone: but yet, alas, the while In changing place, I cannot change my mind; For wheresoe'er I fly, myself I find.
XXX.
[Sidenote: Meritum petere grave.]
Fain would I speak, but straight my heart doth tremble, And checks my tongue that should my griefs reveal: And so I strive my Passions to dissemble, Which all the art I have, cannot conceal. Thus standing mute, my heart with longing starveth! "It grieves a man to ask, what he deserveth."
XXXI.
Since you desire of me the cause to know, For which these divers Passions I have proved; Look in your glass! which will not fail to show The shadowed portrait of my best beloved. If that suffice not, look into my heart! Where it's engraven by a new found art.
XXXII.
The painful ploughman hath his heart's delight; Who, though his daily toil his body tireth, Yet merrily comes whistling home at night, And sweetly takes the ease his pain requireth: But neither days nor nights can yield me rest; Born to be wretched, and to live opprest!
XXXIII.
O well were it, if Nature would devise That men with men together might engender, As grafts of trees, one from another rise; Then nought, of due, to women should we render! But, vain conceit! that Nature should do this; Since, well we know, herself a woman is!
XXXIV.
Upon the altar where LOVE's fires burnèd, My Sighs and Tears for sacrifice I offered; When LOVE, in rage, from me his countenance turnèd, And did reject what I so humbly proffered. If he, my heart expect, alas, it's gone! "How can a man give that, is not his own?"
XXXV.
ALCILIA said, "She did not know my mind, Because my words did not declare my love!" Thus, where I merit most, least help I find; And her unkindness all too late I prove. Grant, LOVE! that She, of whom thou art neglected, May one day love, and little be respected!
XXXVI.
[Sidenote: Amor est otiosorum negotium.]
The Cynic[4] being asked, "When he should love?" Made answer, "When he nothing had to do; For Love was Sloth!" But he did never prove By his experience, what belonged thereto. For had he tasted but so much as I, He would have soon reformed his heresy.
XXXVII.
O judge me not, sweet Love, by outward show! Though sometimes strange I seem, and to neglect thee! Yet didst thou, but my inward Passions know, Thou shouldst perceive how highly I respect thee! "When looks are fixed, the heart ofttimes doth tremble!" "Little loves he, that cannot much dissemble!"
XXXVIII.
Parting from thee! even from myself I part. Thou art the star, by which my life is guided! I have the body, but thou hast the heart! The better part is from itself divided. Thus do I live, and this I do sustain, Till gracious Fortune make us meet again!
Open the sluices of my feeble eyes, And let my tears have passage from their fountain! Fill all the earth, with plaints! the air, with cries! Which may pierce rocks, and reach the highest mountain: That so, LOVE's wrath, by these extremes appeased; My griefs may cease, and my poor heart be eased.
XL.
"After long sickness, health brings more delight." "Seas seem more calm, by storms once overblown." "The day more cheerful, by the passed night." "Each thing is, by his contrary best known." "Continual ease is pain: Change sometimes meeter." "Discords in music make music sweeter."
XLI.
Fear to offend forbids my tongue to speak, And signs and sighs must tell my inward woe: But (ay the while) my heart with grief doth break, And she, by signs, my sorrow will not know. "The stillest streams we see in deepest fords; And Love is greatest, when it wanteth words."
XLII.
"No pain so great but may be eased by Art." "Though much we suffer, yet despair we should not." "In midst of griefs, Hope always hath some part; And Time may heal, what Art and Reason could not." O what is then this Passion I endure, Which neither Reason, Art, nor Time can cure?
XLIII.
Pale Jealousy! Fiend of the eternal Night! Misshapen creature, born before thy time! The Imp of Horror! Foe to sweet Delight! Making each error seem an heinous crime. Ah, too great pity! (were there remedy), That ever Love should keep Thee company!
XLIV.
[Sidenote: Solstit: brumal.
This Sonnet was devised upon the shortest day of the year.]
The days are now come to their shortest date; And must, in time, by course, increase again. But only I continue at one state, Void of all hope of help, or ease of pain; For days of joy must still be short with me, And nights of sorrow must prolongèd be.
XLV.
Sleep now, my Muse! and henceforth take thy rest! Which all too long thyself in vain hath wasted. Let it suffice I still must live opprest; And of my pains, the fruit must ne'er be tasted. Then sleep, my Muse! "Fate cannot be withstood." "It's better sleep; than wake, and do no good."
XLVI.
Why should I love, since She doth prove ungrateful: Since, for reward, I reap nought but disdain. Love thus to be requited, it is hateful! And Reason would, I should not love in vain. Yet all in vain, when all is out of season, For "Love hath no society with Reason."
XLVII.
Heart's Ease and I have been at odds, too long! I follow fast, but still he flies from me! I sue for grace, and yet sustain the wrong; So gladly would I reconcilèd be. LOVE! make us one! So shalt thou work a wonder; Uniting them, that were so far asunder.
XLVIII.
"Uncouth, unkist," our ancient Poet[5] said. And he that hides his wants, when he hath need, May, after, have his want of wit bewrayed; And fail of his desire, when others speed. Then boldly speak! "The worst is at first entering!" "Much good success men miss, for lack of venturing!"
Declare the griefs wherewith thou art opprest, And let the world be witness of thy woes! Let not thy thoughts lie buried in thy breast; But let thy tongue, thy discontents disclose! For "who conceals his pain when he is grieved, May well be pitied, but no way relieved."
L.
[Sidenote: Ne amor ne signoria vuole compagnia.]
Wretched is he that loving, sets his heart On her, whose love, from pure affection swerveth; Who doth permit each one to have a part Of that, which none but he alone deserveth. Give all, or none! For once, of this be sure! "Lordship and Love no partners may endure."
LI.
Who spends the weary day in pensive thought, And night in dreams of horror and affright; Whose wealth is want; whose hope is come to nought; Himself, the mark for Love's and Fortune's spite: Let him appear, if any such there be! His case and mine more fitly will agree.
LII.
Fair tree, but fruitless! sometimes full of sap! Which now yields nought at all, that may delight me! Some cruel frost, or some untimely hap Hath made thee barren, only to despite me! Such trees, in vain, with hope do feed Desire; And serve for fuel to increase Love's fire.
LIII.
In company (whiles sad and mute I sit, My thoughts elsewhere, than there I seem to be) Possessed with some deep melancholy fit; One of my friends observes the same in me, And says in jest, which I in earnest prove, "He looks like one, that had lost his First Love!"
LIV.
'Twixt Hope and Fear, in doubtful balance peazed, My fate, my fortune, and my love depends. Sometimes my Hope is raised, when LOVE is pleased; Which Fear weighs down, when ought his will offends. The heavens are sometimes clear, and sometimes lower; And "he that loves, must taste both sweet and sour!"
LV.
Retire, my wandering Thoughts! unto your rest! Do not, henceforth, consume yourselves in vain! No mortal man, in all points, can be blest; What now is mine, may be another's pain. The watery clouds are clear, when storms are past; And "things, in their extremes, long cannot last."
LVI.
[Sidenote: Visus. Sermo. Tactus.]
The fire of Love is first bred in the Eye, And thence conveys his heat unto the Heart, Where it lies hid, till time his force descry. The Tongue thereto adds fuel for his part; The touch of Lips, which doth succeed the same, Kindles the rest, and so it proves a flame.
LVII.
The tender Sprigs that sprouted in the field, And promised hope of fruit to him that planted; Instead of fruit, doth nought but blossoms yield, Though care, and pain to prune them never wanted Even so, my hopes do nought but blossoms prove, And yield no fruits to recompense my love.
LVIII.
Though little sign of love in show appear; Yet think, True Love, of colours hath no need! It's not the glorious garments, which men wear, That makes them other than they are indeed: "In meanest show, the most affection dwells; And richest pearls are found in simplest shells."
LIX.
[Sidenote: MARTIAL.
Ille dolet vere, qui sine teste dolet.]
Let not thy tongue, thy inward thoughts disclose! Or tell the sorrows that thy heart endures! Let no man's ears be witness of thy woes! Since pity, neither help nor ease procures: And "only he is, truly, said to moan, Whose griefs none knoweth but himself alone."
LX.
[Sidenote: Alteri inserviens meipsum conficio.]
A thousand times; I curse these idle rhymes, Which do their Maker's follies vain set forth; Yet bless I them again, as many times, For that in them, I blaze ALCILIA's worth. Meanwhile, I fare, as doth the torch by night, Which wastes itself in giving others light.
LXI.
Enough of this! For all is nought regarded! And She, not once, with my complaints is moved. Die, hapless love! since thou art not rewarded; Yet ere thou die, to witness that I loved! Report my truth! and tell the Fair unkind, That "She hath lost, what none but She shall find!"
LXII.
Lovers, lament! You that have truly loved! For PHILOPARTHEN, now, hath lost his love: The greatest loss that ever lover proved. O let his hard hap some compassion move! Who had not rued the loss of her so much; But that he knows the world yields no more such.
LXIII.
Upon the ocean of conceited error, My weary spirits, many storms have past; Which now in harbour, free from wonted terror, Joy the possession of their rest at last. And, henceforth, safely may they lie at road! And never rove for "Had I wist!" abroad!
LOVE's Accusation at the Judgement Seat of REASON; wherein the Author's whole success in his love is covertly deciphered. [Compare this, with GASCOIGNE's poem, Vol. I. p. 63.]
In REASON's Court, myself being Plaintiff there, LOVE was, by process, summoned to appear. That so the wrongs, which he had done to me, Might be made known; and all the world might see: And seeing, rue what to my cost I proved; While faithful, but unfortunate I loved.
After I had obtainèd audience; I thus began to give in evidence.
[The Author's Evidence against LOVE.]
"Most sacred Queen! and Sovereign of man's heart! Which of the mind dost rule the better part! First bred in heaven, and from thence, hither sent To guide men's actions by thy regiment! Vouchsafe a while to hear the sad complaint Of him that LOVE hath long kept in restraint; And, as to you it properly belongs, Grant justice of my undeservèd wrongs!
It's now two years, as I remember well, Since first this wretch, (sent from the nether hell, To plague the world with new-found cruelties), Under the shadow of two crystal Eyes, Betrayed my Sense; and, as I slumbering lay, Feloniously conveyed my heart away; Which most unjustly he detained from me, And exercised thereon strange tyranny.
Sometime his manner was, in sport and game, With briars and thorns, to raze and prick the same; Sometime with nettles of Desire to sting it; Sometime with pincons[6] of Despair to wring it; Sometime again, he would anoint the sore, And heal the place that he had hurt before: But hurtful helps! and ministered in vain! Which servèd only to renew my pain. For, after that, more wounds he added still; Which piercèd deep, but had no power to kill. Unhappy medicine! which, instead of cure, Gives strength to make the patient more endure!
But that which was most strange of all the rest (Myself being thus 'twixt life and death distrest), Ofttimes, when as my pain exceeded measure, He would persuade me that the same was pleasure; My solemn sadness, but contentment meet; My travail, rest; and all my sour, sweet; My wounds, but gentle strokes: whereat he smiled, And by these slights, my careless youth beguiled.
Thus did I fare, as one that living died, (For greater pains, I think, hath no man tried) Disquiet thoughts, like furies in my breast Nourished the poison that my spirits possesst. Now Grief, then Joy; now War, then Peace unstable, Nought sure I had, but to be miserable.
I cannot utter all, I must confess. Men may conceive more than they can express! But (to be short), which cannot be excused, With vain illusions, LOVE, my hope abused; Persuading me I stood upon firm ground When, unawares, myself on sands I found. This is the point which most I do enforce! That Love, without all pity or remorse, Did suffer me to languish still in grief Void of contentment, succour, or relief: And when I looked my pains should be rewarded, I did perceive, that they were nought regarded.
For why? Alas, these hapless eyes did see ALCILIA loved another more than me! So in the end, when I expected most; My hope, my love, and fortune thus were crost."
* * * * *
Proceeding further, REASON bad me stay For the Defendant had some thing to say. Then to the Judge, for justice, loud I cried! And so I pausèd: and LOVE thus replied.
[LOVE's Reply to the Author.]
"Since REASON ought to lend indifferent ears Unto both parties, and judge as truth appears; Most gracious Lady! give me leave to speak, And answer his Complaint, that seeks to wreak His spite and malice on me, without cause; In charging me to have transgressed thy laws! Of all his follies, he imputes the blame To me, poor LOVE! that nought deserves the same. Himself it is, that hath abusèd me! As by mine answer, shall well proved be.
Fond youth! thou knowest what I for thee effected! Though, now, I find it little be respected. I purged thy wit, which was before but gross. The metal pure, I severed from the dross, And did inspire thee with my sweetest fire That kindled in thee Courage and Desire: Not like unto those servile Passions Which cumber men's imaginations With Avarice, Ambition, and Vainglory; Desire of things fleeting and transitory. No base conceit, but such as Powers above Have known and felt, I mean, th' Instinct of Love; Which making men, all earthly things despise, Transports them to a heavenly paradise.
Where thou complain'st of sorrows in thy heart, Who lives on earth but therein hath his part? Are these thy fruits? Are these thy best rewards For all the pleasing glances, sly regards, The sweet stol'n kisses, amorous conceits, So many smiles, so many fair intreats, Such kindness as ALCILIA did bestow All for my sake! as well thyself dost know? That LOVE should thus be used, it is hateful! But 'all is lost, that's done for one ungrateful.'
Where he allegeth that he was abusèd In that he truly loving, was refusèd: That's most untrue! and plainly may be tried. Who never asked, could never be denied! But he affected rather single life, Than yoke of marriage, matching with a wife. And most men, now, make love to none but heires[ses] Poor love! GOD wot! that poverty empairs. Worldly respects, LOVE little doth regard. 'Who loves, hath only love for his reward!'
[Sidenote: The description of a foolhardy Lover.]
He merits a lover's name, indeed! That casts no doubts, which vain suspicion breed: But desperately at hazard, throws the dice, Neglecting due regard of friends' advice; That wrestles with his fortune and his fate, Which had ordained to better his estate; That hath no care of wealth, no fear of lack, But ventures forward, though he see his wrack; That with Hope's wings, like ICARUS doth fly, Though for his rashness, he like fortune try; That, to his fame, the world of him may tell How, while he soared aloft, adown he fell. And so True Love awarded him his doom In scaling heaven, to have made the sea his tomb; That making shipwreck of his dearest fame, Betrays himself to poverty and shame; That hath no sense of sorrow, or repent, No dread of perils far or imminent; But doth prefer before all pomp or pelf, The sweet of love as dearer than himself. Who, were his passage stopped by sword and fire, Would make way through, to compass his Desire. For which he would (though heaven and earth forbad it) Hazard to lose a kingdom, if he had it.
These be the things wherein I glory most, Whereof, this my Accuser cannot boast: Who was indifferent to his loss or gain; And better pleased to fail, than to obtain. All qualified affections, LOVE doth hate! And likes him best that's most intemperate. But hence, proceeds his malice and despite; While he himself bars of his own delight. For when as he, ALCILIA first affected, (Like one in show, that love little respected) He masqued, disguised, and entertained his thought With hope of that, which he in secret sought; And still forbare to utter his desire, Till his delay receive her worthy hire. And well we know, what maids themselves would have, Men must sue for, and by petition crave. But he regarding more his Wealth, than Will; Hath little care his Fancy to fulfil. Yet when he saw ALCILIA loved another; The secret fire, which in his breast did smother, Began to smoke, and soon had proved a flame: If Temperance had not allayed the same. Which, afterward, so quenched he did not find But that some sparks remainèd still behind. Thus, when time served, he did refuse to crave it; And yet envied another man should have it!
As though, fair maids should wait, at young men's pleasure, Whilst they, 'twixt sport and earnest, love at leisure. Nay, at the first! when it is kindly proffered! Maids must accept; least twice, it be not offered! Else though their beauty seem their good t'importune, Yet may they lose the better of their fortune.
Thus, as this Fondling coldly went about it; So in the end, he clearly went without it. For while he, doubtful, seemed to make a stay, A Mongrel stole the maiden's heart away; For which, though he lamented much in shew, Yet was he, inward, glad it fell out so.
Now, REASON! you may plainly judge by this, Not I, but he, the false dissembler is: Who, while fond hope his lukewarm love did feed, Made sign of more than he sustained indeed: And filled his rhymes with fables and with lies, Which, without Passion, he did oft devise; So to delude the ignorance of such That pitied him, thinking he loved too much. And with conceit, rather to shew his Wit, Than manifest his faithful Love by it.
Much more than this, could I lay to his charge; But time would fail to open all at large. Let this suffice to prove his bad intent, And prove that LOVE is clear and innocent."
* * * * *
Thus, at the length, though late, he made an end, And both of us did earnestly, attend The final judgement, REASON should award: When thus she 'gan to speak. "With due regard, The matter hath been heard, on either side. For judgement, you must longer time abide! The cause is weighty, and of great import." And so she, smiling, did adjourn the Court.
* * * * *
Little availed it, then, to argue more; So I returned in worse case than before.
LOVE Deciphered.
* * * * *
Love and I are now divided, Conceit, by Error, was misguided. ALCILIA hath my love despised! "No man loves, that is advised." "Time at length, hath Truth detected." LOVE hath missed what he expected. Yet missing that, which long he sought; I have found that, I little thought. "Errors, in time, may be redrest," "The shortest follies are the best."
Love and Youth are now asunder; Reason's glory, Nature's wonder. My thoughts, long bound, are now enlarged; My Folly's penance is discharged: Thus Time hath altered my estate. "Repentance never comes too late." Ah, well I find that Love is nought But folly, and an idle thought. The difference is 'twixt LOVE and me, That he is blind, and I can see.
Love is honey mixed with gall! A thraldom free, a freedom thrall! A bitter sweet, a pleasant sour! Got in a year, lost in an hour! A peaceful war, a warlike peace! Whose wealth brings want; whose want, increase! Full long pursuit, and little gain! Uncertain pleasure, certain pain! Regard of neither right nor wrong! For short delights, repentance long!
Love is the sickness of the thought! Conceit of pleasure, dearly bought! A restless Passion of the mind! A labyrinth of errors blind! A sugared poison! fair deceit! A bait for fools! a furious heat! A chilling cold! a wondrous passion Exceeding man's imagination! Which none can tell in whole, or part, But only he that feels the smart.
Love is sorrow mixt with gladness! Fear, with hope! and hope, with madness! Long did I love, but all in vain; I loving, was not loved again: For which my heart sustained much woe. It fits not maids to use men so! Just deserts are not regarded, Never love so ill rewarded! But "all is lost that is not sought!" "Oft wit proves best, that's dearest bought!"
Women were made for men's relief; To comfort, not to cause their grief. Where most I merit, least I find: No marvel! since that love is blind. Had She been kind, as She was fair, My case had been more strange and rare. But women love not by desert! Reason in them hath weakest part! Then, henceforth, let them love that list, I will beware of "Had I wist!"
These faults had better been concealed, Than to my shame abroad revealed. Yet though my youth did thus miscarry, My harms may make others more wary. Love is but a youthful fit, And some men say "It's sign of wit!" But he that loves as I have done; To pass the day, and see no sun: Must change his note, and sing Erravi! Or else may chance to cry Peccavi!
The longest day must have his night, Reason triumphs in Love's despite. I follow now Discretion's lore; "Henceforth to like; but love no more!" Then gently pardon what is past! For LOVE draws onwards to his last. "He walks," they say, "with wary eye; Whose footsteps never tread awry!" My Muse a better work intends: And here my Loving Folly ends.
After long storms and tempests past, I see the haven at the last; Where I must rest my weary bark, And there unlade my care and cark. My pains and travails long endured, And all my wounds must there be cured. Joys, out of date, shall be renewed; To think of perils past eschewed. When I shall sit full blithe and jolly, And talk of lovers and their folly.
Then LOVE and FOLLY, both adieu! Long have I been misled by you. FOLLY may new adventures try! But REASON says that "LOVE must die!" Yea, die indeed, although grieve him; For my cold heart cannot relieve him! Yet for her sake, whom once I loved, (Though all in vain, as time hath proved) I'll take the pain, if She consent! To write his Will and Testament.
LOVE's last Will and Testament.
My Spirit, I bequeath unto the air! My Body shall unto the earth repair! My Burning Brand, unto the Prince of Hell; T'increase men's pains that there in darkness dwell! For well I ween, above nor under ground, A greater pain than that, may not be found. My sweet Conceits of Pleasure and Delight, To EREBUS! and to Eternal Night! My Sighs, my Tears, my Passions, and Laments, Distrust, Despair; all these my hourly rents, With other plagues that lovers' minds enthral: Unto OBLIVION, I bequeath them all! My broken Bow, and Shafts, I give to REASON! My Cruelties, my Slights, and forgèd Treason, To Womankind! and to their seed, for aye! To wreak their spite, and work poor men's decay. Reserving only for ALCILIA's part, Small kindness, and less care of lovers' smart.
For She is from the vulgar sort excepted; And had She, PHILOPARTHEN's love respected, Requiting it with like affection, She might have had the praise of all perfection. This done; if I have any Faith and Troth; To PHILOPARTHEN, I assign them both! For unto him, of right, they do belong Who loving truly, suffered too much wrong. TIME shall be sole Executor of my will; Who may these things, in order due fulfil, To warrant this my Testament for good; I have subscribed it, with my dying blood.
And so he died, that all this bale had bred. And yet my heart misdoubts he is not dead: For, sure, I fear, should I ALCILIA spy; She might, eftsoons, revive him with her eye! Such power divine remaineth in her sight; To make him live again, in Death's despite.
The Sonnets following were written by the Author, after he began to decline from his Passionate Affection; and in them, he seemeth to please himself with describing the Vanity of Love, the Frailty of Beauty, and the sour fruits of Repentance.
* * * * *
I.
Now have I spun the web of my own woes, And laboured long to purchase my own loss. Too late I see, I was beguiled with shows. And that which once seemed gold, now proves but dross. Thus am I, both of help and hope bereaved. "He never tried that never was deceived."
[Sidenote: Chi non si fida, non viene ingannato.]
II.
Once did I love, but more than once repent; When vintage came, my grapes were sour, or rotten. Long time in grief and pensive thoughts I spent; And all for that, which Time hath made forgotten. O strange effects of time! which, once being lost, Make men secure of that they lovèd most.
III.
Thus have I long in th'air of Error hovered, And run my ship upon Repentance's shelf. Truth hath the veil of Ignorance uncovered, And made me see; and seeing, know myself. Of former follies, now, I must repent, And count this work, part of my time ill spent.
IV.
What thing is LOVE? "A tyrant of the Mind!" "Begot by heat of Youth; brought forth by Sloth; Nursed with vain Thoughts, and changing as the wind!" "A deep Dissembler, void of faith and troth!" "Fraught with fond errors, doubts, despite, disdain, And all the plagues that earth and hell contain!"
V.
Like to a man that wanders all the day Through ways unknown, to seek a thing of worth, And, at the night, sees he hath gone astray; As near his end, as when he first set forth: Such is my case, whose hope untimely crost, After long errors, proves my labour lost.
VI.
Failed of that hap, whereto my hope aspired, Deprived of that which might have been mine own: Another, now, must have what I desired; And things too late, by their events are known. Thus do we wish for that cannot be got; And when it may, then we regard it not.
VII.
Ingrateful LOVE! since thou hast played thy part! (Enthralling him, whom Time hath since made free) It rests with me, to use both Wit and Art, That of my wrongs I may revengèd be: And in those eyes, where first thou took'st thy fire! Thyself shalt perish, through my cold desire.
VIII.
"Grieve not thyself, for that cannot be had! And things, once cureless, let them cureless rest!" "Blame not thy fortune, though thou deem it bad! What's past and gone will never be redrest." "The only help, for that cannot be gained, Is to forget it might have been obtained."
IX.
How happy, once, did I myself esteem! While Love with Hope, my fond Desire did cherish; My state as blissful as a King's did seem, Had I been sure my joys should never perish. "The thoughts of men are fed with expectation." "Pleasures themselves are but imagination."
X.
Why should we hope for that which is to come, Where the event is doubtful, and unknown? Such fond presumptions soon receive their doom, When things expected we count as our own; Whose issue, ofttimes, in the end proves nought But hope! a shadow, and an idle thought.
XI.
In vain do we complain our life is short, (Which well disposed, great matters might effect) While we ourselves, in toys and idle sport, Consume the better part without respect. And careless (as though time should never end it) 'Twixt sleep, and waking, prodigally spend it.
XII.
Youthful Desire is like the summer season That lasts not long; for winter must succeed: And so our Passions must give place to Reason; And riper years, more ripe effects must breed. Of all the seed, Youth sowed in vain desires, I reapèd nought, but thistles, thorns, and briars.
XIII.
[Sidenote: Chi non fa, non falla; chi falla, l'amenda.]
"To err and do amiss, is given to men by Kind." "Who walks so sure, but sometimes treads awry?" But to continue still in errors blind, A bad and bestial nature doth descry. "Who proves not; fails not; and brings nought to end: Who proves and fails, may, afterward, amend."
XIV.
There was but One, and doubtless She the best! Whom I did more than all the world esteem: She having failed, I disavow the rest; For, now, I find "things are not as they seem." "Default of that, wherein our will is crost, Ofttimes, unto our good availeth most."
XV.
[Sidenote: Chi va, e ritorna, fa buon viaggio.]
I fare like him who, now his land-hope spent, By unknown seas, sails to the Indian shore; Returning thence no richer than he went, Yet cannot much his fortune blame therefore. Since "Whoso ventures forth upon the Main, Makes a good mart, if he return again."
XVI.
Lovers' Conceits are like a flatt'ring Glass, That makes the lookers fairer than they are; Who, pleased in their deceit, contented pass. Such once was mine, who thought there was none fair, None witty, modest, virtuous but She; Yet now I find the Glass abusèd me.
XVII.
Adieu, fond Love! the Mother of all Error! Replete with hope and fear, with joy and pain. False fire of Fancy! full of care and terror. Shadow of pleasures fleeting, short, and vain! Die, loathèd Love! Receive thy latest doom! "Night be thy grave! and Oblivion be thy tomb!"
[Sidenote: Nihil agendo male agere discimus.]
XVIII.
Who would be rapt up into the third heaven To see a world of strange imaginations? Who, careless, would leave all at six and seven, To wander in a labyrinth of Passions? Who would, at once, all kinds of folly prove; When he hath nought to do, then let him love!
XIX.
What thing is Beauty? "Nature's dearest Minion!" "The Snare of Youth! like the inconstant moon Waxing and waning!" "Error of Opinion!" "A Morning's Flower, that withereth ere noon!" "A swelling Fruit! no sooner ripe, than rotten!" "Which sickness makes forlorn, and time forgotten!"
XX.
The Spring of Youth, which now is in his prime; Winter of Age, with hoary frosts shall nip! Beauty shall then be made the prey of Time! And sour Remorse, deceitful Pleasures whip! Then, henceforth, let Discretion rule Desire! And Reason quench the flame of CUPID's fire!
XXI.
O what a life was that sometime I led! When Love with Passions did my peace encumber; While, like a man neither alive nor dead, I was rapt from myself, as one in slumber: Whose idle senses, charmed with fond illusion, Did nourish that which bred their own confusion.
XXII.
The child, for ever after, dreads the fire; That once therewith by chance his finger burned. Water of Time distilled doth cool Desire. "And far he ran," they say, "that never turned." After long storms, I see the port at last. Farewell, Folly! For now my love is past!
XXIII.
Base servile thoughts of men, too much dejected, That seek, and crouch, and kneel for women's grace! Of whom, your pain and service is neglected; Yourselves, despised; rivals, before your face! The more you sue, the less you shall obtain! The less you win, the more shall be your gain!
XXIV.
In looking back unto my follies past; While I the present, with times past compare, And think how many hours I then did waste Painting on clouds, and building in the air: I sigh within myself, and say in sadness, "This thing which fools call Love, is nought but Madness!"
XXV.
"The things we have, we most of all neglect; And that we have not, greedily we crave. The things we may have, little we respect; And still we covet, that we cannot have. Yet, howsoe'er, in our conceit, we prize them; No sooner gotten, but we straight despise them."
XXVI.
Who seats his love upon a woman's will, And thinks thereon to build a happy state; Shall be deceived, when least he thinks of ill, And rue his folly when it is too late. He ploughs on sand, and sows upon the wind, That hopes for constant love in Womankind.
XXVII.
I will no longer spend my time in toys! Seeing Love is Error, Folly, and Offence; An idle fit for fond and reckless boys, Or else for men deprived of common sense. 'Twixt Lunacy and Love, these odds appear; Th' one makes fools, monthly; th' other, all the year.
XXVIII.
While season served to sow, my plough stood still; My graffs unset, when other's trees did bloom. I spent the Spring in sloth, and slept my fill; But never thought of Winter's cold to come; Till Spring was past, the Summer well nigh gone; When I awaked, and saw my harvest none.
XXIX.
Now LOVE sits all alone, in black attire; His broken bow, and arrows lying by him; His fire extinct, that whilom fed Desire; Himself the scorn of lovers that pass by him: Who, this day, freely may disport and play; For it is PHILOPARTHEN's Holiday.
XXX.
[Sidenote: Otia si tollas periere Cupidinis arcus.]
Nay, think not LOVE! with all thy cunning slight, To catch me once again! Thou com'st too late! Stern Industry puts Idleness to flight: And Time hath changèd both my name and state. Then seek elsewhere for mates, that may befriend thee! For I am busy, and cannot attend thee!
XXXI.
Loose Idleness! the Nurse of fond Desire! Root of all ills that do our youth betide; That, whilom, didst, through love, my wrack conspire: I banish thee! and rather wish t'abide All austere hardness, and continual pain; Than to revoke thee! or to love again!
XXXII.
The time will come when, looking in a glass, Thy rivelled face, with sorrow thou shalt see! And sighing, say, "It is not as it was! These cheeks were wont more fresh and fair to be! But now, what once made me so much admired Is least regarded, and of none desired!"
XXXIII.
[Sidenote: Temporis solius honesta est avaritia.]
Though thou be fair, think Beauty but a blast! A morning's dew! a shadow quickly gone! A painted flower, whose colour will not last! Time steals away, when least we think thereon. Of which alone, the sparing is commended.
XXXIV.
How vain is Youth that, crossed in his Desire, Doth fret and fume, and inwardly repine; As though 'gainst heaven itself, he would conspire; And with his fraility, 'gainst his fate combine, Who of itself continues constant still; And doth us good, ofttimes against our will.
XXXV.
In prime of Youth, when years and Wit were ripe, Unhappy Will, to ruin led the way. Wit danced about, when Folly 'gan to pipe; And Will and he together went astray. Nought then but Pleasure, was the good they sought! Which now Repentance proves too dearly bought.
XXXVI.
[Sidenote: Est virtus pracitis abstinuisse bonis.]
He that in matters of delight and pleasure, Can bridle his outrageous affection; And temper it in some indifferent measure, Doth prove himself a man of good direction. In conquering Will, true courage most is shown; And sweet temptations makes men's virtues known.
XXXVII.
[Sidenote: Invidia fatorum series summisque negatum stare diu.]
Each natural thing, by course of Kind, we see, In his perfection long continueth not. Fruits once full ripe, will then fall from the tree; Or in due time not gathered, soon will rot. It is decreed, by doom of Powers Divine, Things at their height, must thence again decline.
XXXVIII.
Thy large smooth forehead, wrinkled shall appear! Vermillion hue, to pale and wan shall turn! Time shall deface what Youth has held most dear! Yea, these clear Eyes (which once my heart did burn) Shall, in their hollow circles, lodge the night; And yield more cause of terror, than delight!
XXXIX.
[Sidenote: Quanto piace al mondo, e breve sogno.]
Lo here, the Record of my follies past, The fruits of Wit unstaid, and hours misspent! Full wise is he that perils can forecast, And so, by others' harms, his own prevent. All Worldly Pleasure that delights the Sense, Is but a short Sleep, and Time's vain expense!
XL.
The sun hath twice his annual course performed, Since first unhappy I, began to love; Whose errors now, by Reason's rule reformed, Conceits of Love but smoke and shadows prove. Who, of his folly, seeks more praise to win; Where I have made an end, let him begin!
J.C.
FINIS.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] DIOGENES.
[5] CHAUCER.
[6] pincers.
Sir THOMAS OVERBURY
HIS
OBSERVATIONS,
IN HIS TRAVELS,
UPON THE STATE OF THE
SEVENTEEN PROVINCES,
AS THEY STOOD ANNO DOMINI 1609; THE TREATY OF PEACE BEING THEN ON FOOT.
Printed. M.DC.XXVI.
[In approximately estimating the present value of the money of 1609; we have multiplied by 4-1/2.]
Sir
THOMAS OVERBURY's
OBSERVATIONS,
IN HIS TRAVELS,
UPON THE STATE OF THE
SEVENTEEN PROVINCES,
AS THEY STOOD ANNO, DOMINI 1609; THE TREATY OF PEACE BEING THEN ON FOOT.
And first, Of the Provinces United.
All things concurred for the rising and maintenance of this State: the disposition of the people, being as mutinous as industrious and frugal; the nature of the country, everywhere fortifiable with water; the situation of it, having behind them the Baltic sea, which yields them all materials for ships, and many other commodities; and for men, hard before them France and England, both fearing the Spanish greatness, and therefore both concurring for their aid; the remoteness of their Master from them; the change of religion, falling out about the time of their Revolt; and now the Marquis of BRANDENBURGH, a Protestant, like[ly] to become [the] Duke of CLEVE.
The discontentments of the Low Countries did first appear soon after the going away of the Kings of Spain, while the Duchess of PARMA governed. To suppress which beginnings, the Duke of ALVA being sent, inflamed them more upon attempting to bring in the Inquisition, and Spanish decimation; upon the beheading of Count HORN and Count EGMONT, persecuting those of the Religion: and undertaking to build citadels upon all their towns; which he effected at Antwerp, but enterprising the like at Flushing, that town revolted first, and under it began the war.
But the more general Revolt of the Provinces happened after the death of Don LOUIS DE REQUIESCENS, and upon the coming down of Don JOHN of Austria: when all the Provinces, excepting Luxemburg (upon the sack of Antwerp and other insolences), proclaimed the Spaniards "rebels, and enemies to the King." Yet the abjuring of their obedience from the Crown of Spain, was not in a year or two after.
Holland and Zealand (upon their first standing out) offered the Sovereignty of themselves to the Queen, then the Protection, both which she neglected; and that, while the French sent greater aid, and more men of quality than we: but after the Civil War began in France, that kept them busy at home; and then the Queen, seeing the necessity of their being supported, upon the pawning of Brill and Flushing, sent money and men. And since that, most part of the great exploits there, have been done by the English, who were commonly the third part of their army; being four regiments, besides 1,100 in Flushing and the Ramekins, and 500 in the Brill. But, of late, the King of France appearing more for them than ours, and paying himself the French [soldiers] that are there; they give equal, if not more countenance to that nation. But upon these two Kings, they make their whole dependency: and though with more respect to him that is stronger for the time; yet so, as it may give no distaste unto the other.
For the manner of their Government. They have, upon occasion, an Assembly of the General States, like our Parliament; being composed of those which are sent from every Province upon summons; and what these Enact, stands for Law. Then is there besides, a Council of State, residing, for the most part, at the Hague: which attends [to] daily occasions; being rather employed upon Affairs of State than particular [individual] justice. The most potent in this Council was BARNEVELD, by reason of his Advocates of Holland. And besides both these, every Province and great Town have particular Councils of their own. To all which Assemblies, as well of the General States as the rest, the gentry is called for order sake, but the State indeed is democratical: the merchant and the tradesman being predominant, the gentry, now, but few and poor; and, even at the beginning, the Prince of ORANGE saw it safer to rely upon the towns than [upon] them. Neither are the gentry so much engaged in the Cause: the people having more advantages in a Free State; they, in a Monarchy.
Their care in Government is very exact and particular, by reason that every one hath an immediate interest in the State. Such is the equality of justice, that it renders every man satisfied; such is the public regularity, as a man may see [that] their laws were made to guide, and not to entrap; such their exactness in casting the expense of an army, as that it shall be equally far from superfluity and want; and as much order and certainty in their acts of war, as in ours of peace; teaching it to be both civil and rich. And they still retain that sign of a Commonwealth yet uncorrupted, "Private poverty, and public weal!" for no one private man there is exceeding rich, and few very poor; and no State more sumptuous in all public things. But the question is, whether this, being a free State, will, as well subsist in peace, as it hath hitherto done in war. Peace leaving every one to attend [to] his particular wealth: when fear, while the war lasts, makes them concur for their common safety. And Zealand, upon the least security, hath ever been envious at the predominancy of Holland and Utrecht; ready to mutiny for religion: and besides, it is a doubt, whether the same care and sincerity would continue if they were at their Consistence, as appears yet, while they are but in Rising.
The Revenue of this State ariseth chiefly from the Earl of HOLLAND's domains; and confiscated church livings; the rising and falling of money, which they use with much advantage; their fishing upon our coasts, and those of Norway; contributions out of the enemy's country, taxes upon all things at home, and impositions [import duties] upon all merchandise from abroad.
Their Expenses upon their Ambassadors, their shipping, their ditches, their rampiers [dykes] and munition; and commonly they have in pay, by sea and land, 60,000 men.
For the strength. The nature of the country makes them able to defend themselves long by land. Neither could anything have endangered them so much as the last great frost [of 1608, see Vol. I. p. 77], had not the Treaty been then on foot: because the enemy, being then master of the field; that rendered their ditches, marshes, and rivers as firm ground.
There belongs to that State, 20,000 vessels of all sorts. So that if the Spaniard were entirely beaten out of those parts; the Kings of France and England would take as much pains to suppress, as ever they did to raise them. For being our enemies, they are [would be] able to give us the law at sea; and eat us out of all trade, much more the French: having at this time three ships for our one, though none so good as our best.
Now that whereupon the most part of their Revenue depends is their traffic, in which mystery of State they are, at this day, the wisest. For all the commodities that this part of the world wants, and the Indies have (as spice, silk, jewels, gold), they are become the conveyers of them for the rest of Christendom, excepting us: as the Venetians were of old. And all those commodities that those Northern countries abound with, and these Southern countries stand in need of: they likewise convey thither; which was the ancient trade of the Easterlings [Baltic cities]. And this they do, having little to export of their own, by buying of their neighbour-countries the former; and selling them again what they bring back, at their own prices: and so consequently, live upon the idleness of others. And to this purpose, their situation serves fitly. For the rivers of the Rhine, the Maas, and [the] Scheldt all end in their dominions; and the Baltic sea lies not far from them: all which afford them whatever the great continent of Germany, Russia, and Poland yields.
Then they, again, lying between Germany and the sea, do furnish it back, with all commodities foreign.
To remember some pieces of their discipline, as patterns of the rest. The Watches at night are never all of one nation [race], so that they can hardly concur to give up any one town. The Commissaries are nowhere so strict upon Musters, and where he finds a company thither, he reduceth them: so that, when an army marcheth, the List and the Poll are never far disagreeing. The army is ever well clothed, well armed; and had never yet occasion to mutiny for pay or victuals. The soldiers commit nowhere fewer insolences upon the burghers, few robberies upon the country; nor the Officers fewer deceits upon the soldiers. And lastly, they provide well that their General shall have small means to invade their liberties. For first, their Army is composed of many nations, which have their several Commanders; and the commands are disposed by the States themselves, not by the General. And secondly, he hath never an implicit commission left to discretion: but, by reason their country hath no great bounds, receives daily commands what to do.
Their territory contains six entire Provinces; Holland, Zealand, Utrecht, Groningen, Overyssel, and Friesland, besides three parts of Guelderland, and certain towns in Brabant and Flanders: the ground of which is, for the most part, fruitful; the towns nowhere are so equally beautiful, strong, and rich: which equality grows by reason that they appropriate some one staple commodity to every town of note; only Amsterdam not only passeth them all, but even Seville, Lisbon, or any other Mart Town in Christendom. And to it, is appropriated the trade of the East Indies, where they maintain commonly forty ships; besides which, there go, twice a year, from it and the adjoining towns, a great fleet to the Baltic sea. Upon the fall of Antwerp, that [town of Amsterdam] rose, rather than Middleburgh; though it [that] stands at the same river's mouth, and is the second Mart Town; to which is appropriated our English cloth.
Concerning the people. They are neither much devout, nor much wicked; given all to drink, and, eminently, to no other vice; hard in bargaining, but just; surly, and respectless, as in all democracies; thirsty [?thrifty], industrious, and cleanly; disheartened upon the least ill-success, and insolent upon good; inventive in manufactures; cunning in traffic. And generally, for matter of action, that natural slowness of theirs suits better (by reason of the advisedness and perseverance it brings with it) than the rashness and changeableness of the French and Florentine wits. And the equality of spirits which is among them and the Swiss, renders them so fit for a Democracy; which kind of Government, nations, of more unstable wits, being once come to a Consistent Greatness, have seldom long endured.
Observations upon the State of the
Archduke's Country, 1609. By Sir THOMAS OVERBURY.
As soon as I entered into the Archduke's country, which begins after Lillow; presently, I beheld [the] works of a Province, and those of a Province distressed with war. The people heartless; and rather repining against their Governors than revengeful against their enemies. The bravery of that gentry which was left, and the industry of the merchant, quite decayed. The husbandman labouring only to live, without desire to be rich to another's use. The towns (whatsoever concerned not the strength of them) ruinous. And, to conclude, the people here growing poor with less taxes, than they flourish with on the States' side.
This war hath kept the King of Spain busy ever since it began, which [is] some thirty-eight years ago: and, spending all the money that the Indies, and all the men that Spain and Italy could afford, hath withdrawn him from persevering in any other enterprise. Neither could he give over this, without foregoing the means to undertake anything hereafter upon France or England; and, consequently, the Hope of the Western Monarchy. For without that handle [i.e., that hope] the mines of Peru had done little hurt in these parts, in comparison of what they have. The cause of the expensefulness of it, is the remoteness of those Provinces from Spain; by reason of which every soldier of Spain or Italy, before he can arrive there, costs the King a 100 crowns [= £30 then = £135 now], and not above one in ten that arrive, proves good. Besides, by reason of the distance, a great part of the money is drunk up betwixt the Officers that convey it, and pay it.
The cause of the continuance of it, is not only the strength of the enemy; but partly, by reason that the Commanders themselves are content [that] the war should last, so to maintain and render themselves necessary; and partly, because the people of those Countries are not so eager to have the other reduced, as willing to be in the like state themselves.
The usual revenue of those Provinces which the Archduke hath, amounts to 1,200,000 crowns [= at 6s. the Crown, £360,000 then = about £1,600,000 now] a year. Besides which, there come from Spain every month, to maintain the war, 150,000 crowns [= £45,000 a month, or £540,000 a year, then; = £2,430,000 annually now]. It was, at the first, 300,000 crowns a month [or, in present annual value, about £5,000,000]; but it fell by fifties [i.e., 50,000] to this, at the time when the Treaty began. Flanders pays more towards the war, than all the rest; as Holland doth, with the States. There is no Spaniard of [belonging to] the Council of State, nor Governor of any Province: but of the Council of War, which is only active; there [in which] they only are, and have in their hands all the strong towns and castles of those Provinces, of which the Governors have but only the title.
The nations of which their army consists are chiefly Spaniards and Italians, emulous one of another there; as on the other side, [are] the French and English: and of the country, chiefly Burgundians and Walloons. The Pope's Letters, and SPINOLA's inclination keep the Italians there; almost in equality of command with the Spaniard himself.
The Governors for the King of Spain there, successively, have been the Duke of ALVA, Don LOUIS DE REQUIESCENS, Don JOHN of Austria, the Prince of PARMA, the Archduke EARNEST, the Cardinal ANDREW of Austria, and the Cardinal ALBERT till he married the Infanta.
Where the dominion of the Archduke and the States part, there also changeth the nature of the country; that is, about Antwerp. For all below, being flat, and betwixt meadow and marsh; thence, it begins to rise and become champion [open country]: and consequently, the people are more quick and spiritful, as the Brabanter, Fleming, and Walloon.
The most remarkable place on that side is Antwerp, which rose upon the fall of Bruges; equally strong and beautiful; remaining yet so upon the strength of its former greatness: twice spoiled by the Spaniards, and the like attempted by the French. The Citadel was built there by the Duke of ALVA, but renewed by the Prince of PARMA, after his eighteen months' besieging it; the town accepting a castle, rather than a garrison to mingle among them. There are yet in the town, of citizens 30,000 fighting men, 600 of which keep watch nightly; but they [are] allowed neither cannon upon the rampier [ramparts], nor magazines of powder. In the Castle are 200 pieces of ordnance, and commonly 700 or 800 soldiers.
Flanders is the best of the Seventeen Provinces, but the havens thereof are naught [worthless].
Observations on the State of France, 1609, under HENRY IV. By Sir THOMAS OVERBURY.
Having seen the form of a Commonwealth, and a Province, with the different effects of wars in them; I entered France, flourishing with peace; and of Monarchies, the most absolute. Because the King there, not only makes peace and war, calls and dissolves Parliaments, pardoneth, naturaliseth, ennobleth, names the value of money, [im]presseth to the war; but even makes laws, and imposes taxes at his pleasure. And all this he doth alone. For, as for that form that his Edicts must be authorised by the next Court of Parliament, that is, the next Court of Sovereign Justice: first, the Presidents thereof are to be chosen by him, and to be put out by him; and secondly, when they concur not with the King, he passeth anything without them, as he did the last Edict [? of Nantes] for the Protestants. And for the Assembly of the Three Estates, it is grown now almost as extraordinary as a General Council [of the Church]; with the loss of which, their liberty fell: and when occasion urgeth, it is possible for the King to procure that all those that shall be sent thither, shall be his instruments. For the Duke of GUISE effected as much, at the Assembly of Blois.
The occasion that first procured the King that supremacy, that his Edicts should be Laws, was the last invasion of the English. For, at that time, they possessing two parts of France, the Three Estates could not assemble: whereupon they did then grant that power unto CHARLES VII. during the war. And that which made it easy, for LOUIS XI. and his successors to continue the same, the occasion ceasing; was that the Clergy and the Gentry did not run the same fortune with the People there, as in England. For most of the taxes falling only upon the people; the Clergy and Gentry, being foreborne [exempt], were easily induced to leave them to the King's mercy. But the King having got strength upon [subverted] the peasants, hath been since the bolder to invade part of both their [the Clergy's and Gentry's] liberties.
For the succession of this monarchy. It hath subsisted, without intermission, these 1,200 years, under three Races of Kings. No nation hath, heretofore, done greater things abroad, in Palestine and Egypt, besides all parts of Europe; but, for these last four hundred years, they have only made sallies into Italy, and [have] often suffered at home. Three hundred years the English afflicted them, making two firm invasions upon them, and taking their King prisoner: the second greatness of Christendom (next [to] the Emperor) being then in competition betwixt us and them. And to secure themselves against us, rather than the House of Austria, as it then stood; they chose to marry the heir of Brittany before that of Burgundy. And for this last hundred years, the Spaniard undertaking [attacking] them, hath eaten them out of all but France, and endangered that too!
But for this present, France had never, as France, a more entire greatness; though it hath often been richer. For since the war; the King has only [simply] got aforehand, the country is but yet in recovering; the war having lasted, by spaces, thirty two years; and so generally, that [as there was] no man but had an enemy within three miles, so the country became frontier all over. Now that which hath made them, at this time, so largely great at home, is their adopting into themselves the lesser adjoining nations, without destruction or leaving any mark of strangeness upon them: as the Bretons, Gascons, Provençals, and others which are not French. Towards which unions, their nature, which is easy and harborous [receptive] to strangers; hath done more than any laws could have effected but with long time.
The King, as I said, enjoying what LOUIS XI. did gain, hath the entire Sovereignty in himself; because he can make the Parliament do what he pleases, or else do what he pleases without them.
* * * * *
For the other Three Estates. The Church is there very rich, being estimated to enjoy the third part of the revenue of France, but otherwise is nothing so potent as elsewhere; partly because the Inquisition is not admitted in France: but principally because the Pope's ordinary power is much restrained there, by the liberties which the French Church claimeth; which liberties do not so much enfranchise the Church itself, as confer the authority the Pope loseth upon the King, as Firstfruits and the Disposing of all spiritual preferments. And by reason of this neutrality of authority, the church men [clergy] suffer more there, than either in England, where they wholly depend upon the King; or in Spain and Italy, where they wholly subsist by the Pope: because the Pope is not able totally to support them, and the King takes occasion ever to suppress them, as being not entirely his subjects; and to him, they pay, yearly, both the tenth of all their tithe, and of all their temporal land.
The Gentry are the only entire Body, there, which participate with the prerogatives of the Crown. For from it, they receive privileges above all other men and a kind of limited regality upon their tenants; besides [a] real supply to their estates by governments and pensions, and freedom from tallies [taxations] upon their own lands, that is, upon their domains and whatsoever they manure by their servants: but so much as they let to tenants is, presently, tallieable [taxable] which causeth [a] proportionate abatement in the rent. And in recompense of this, they owe to the King the Ban and the Arrière Ban; that is, to serve him and his Lieutenant, three months within the land, at their own charges. And as in war, they undergo the greatest part of the danger, so then is their power most peremptory above the rest: whereas in the time of peace, the King is ready to support inferior persons against them, and is glad to see them to waste one another by contention at law for fear they grow rich; because he forsees that, as the Nobility, only, can do him service, so they only, misapplied, can do him harm.
The ancient Gentry of France was most of it consumed in the wars of GODFREY DE BOULOGNE, and some in those of St. LOUIS; because on their setting out they pawned all their fiefs to the Church, and few of them were after[wards] redeemed: by reason, whereof the Church possesseth at this day the third part of the best fiefs in France. And that Gentry was afterwards made up by advocates, financiers, and merchants ennobled, which are now reputed ancient; and are daily eaten out again, and repaired by the same kind of men.
For the people. All those that have any kind of profession or trade, live well; but for the mere peasants that labour the ground, they are only sponges to the King, to the Church, and to the Nobility! having nothing to their own, but to the use of them: and are scarce allowed, as beasts, enough to keep them able to do service; for besides their rent, they pay usually two-thirds to the King.
* * * * *
The manner of Government in France is mixt between Peace and War; being composed as well of military discipline as [of] civil justice: because having open frontiers and strong neighbours, and therefore obnoxious [liable] to sudden invasions; they cannot, as in England, join ever peace and security together.
For the Military Part, there is ever a Constable and a Marshal in being, troops of horse and regiments of foot in pay, and in all Provinces and places of strength, Governors and garrisons distributed: all which are means for the preferment of the Gentry. But those, as they give security against the enemy, so when there is none, they disturb the enjoying of peace, by making the countries taste somewhat of a Province. For the Gentry find a difference betwixt the Governor's favour and disfavour; and the soldiers often commit insolences upon the people.
The Governments there, are so well disposed by the King, as no Governor hath means to give over a Province into the enemy's hands; the commands thereof are so scattered. For the Governor commands the country, and, for the most part, the chief town: then there is a Lieutenant to the King, not to him! of the same; and betwixt these two there is ever jealousy nourished. Then hath every town and fortress particular Governors, which are not subaltern [subordinate] to that of the Province; but hold immediately from the Prince: and many times the Town hath one Governor, and the Castle another.
The advantages of the Governors, besides their pay from the King, are presents from the country, dead payes [? pay drawn for dead men], making their magazines of corn and powder more than they need, at the King's price; and, where they stand upon the sea, overseeing of unlawful goods: thus much in peace. In war, they are worth as much as they will exact. Languedoc is the best, then Brittany: Provence is worth, by all these means, to the Duke of GUISE, 20,000 crowns [= £6,000 or about £25,000 in present value] a year; but Provence only, he holds without a Lieutenant.
Concerning the Civil Justice there: it is nowhere more corrupt or expenseful. The corruptness of it proceeds, First, by reason that the King sells the places of justice at as high a rate as can honestly be made of them: so that all thriving is left to corruption; and the gain the King hath that way, tempts him to make a multitude of officers, which are another burden to the subject. Secondly, the Presidents are not bound to judge according to the written Law, but according to the equity drawn out of it; which liberty doth not so much admit Conscience, as leave Wit without limits. The expensefulness of it ariseth from the multitude of laws, and multiplicity of forms of processes; the which too doth beget doubt, and make them long in resolving. And all this chicanery, as they call it, was brought into France from Rome, upon the Popes coming to reside at Avignon.
* * * * *
For the strength of France. It is at this day, the greatest united force of Christendom. The particulars in which it consists, are these. The shape of the country; which being round, no one part is far from succouring another. The multitude of good towns and places of strength therein are able to stay an army, if not to waste it; as Metz did the Emperor's. The mass of treasure which the King hath in the Bastille. The number of arsenals distributed upon the frontiers, besides that of Paris: all which are full of good arms and artillery. And for ready men, the five Regiments bestowed up and down in garrisons, together with the 2,000 of the Guard [and] the troops of Ordinary and Light Horse: all ever in pay. Besides their Gentry, all bred soldiers; of which they think there are, at this present, 50,000 fit to bear arms. And to command all these, they have, at this day, the best Generals of Christendom; which were the only commodity the Civil Wars did leave them.
The weaknesses of it are, First, the want of a sufficient Infantry, which proceeds from the ill distribution of their wealth: for the peasant having no share allowed him, is heartless and feeble; and consequently unserviceable for all military uses. By reason of which, they are, first, forced to borrow aid of the Switzers at a great charge; and secondly, to compose their armies, for the most part, of Gentlemen: which makes the loss of a battle there almost irrecoverable. The Second, is the unproportionable part of the land which the Church holds, all which is likewise dead to military uses: for as they say there, "The Church will lose nothing, nor defend nothing." The Third, is the want of a competent number of ships and galleys: by reason of which defect, first, the Spaniard overmasters them upon the Mediterranean, and the English and Hollander upon the Ocean; and secondly, it renders them poor in foreign trade; so that, all the great actions of Christendom for these fifty years having been bent upon the [West] Indies, they, only, have sat idle. The Fourth, is the weakness of their frontiers: which is so much the more dangerous because they are possessed, all but the Ocean, by the Spaniard; for Savoy hath been always as his own, for all uses against France. The Last, is the difference of religion among themselves; which will ever yield matter of civil dissension, and consequently cause the weaker to stand in need of foreign succours.
The ordinary revenue of the King is, as they say now, some 14,000,000 of crowns [= £4,200,000 sterling, or in present value, about £18,000,000]; which arise principally from the domains of the Crown, the gabel of salt, tallies [taxes] upon the country, customs upon the merchandise, sale of offices, the yearly tithe of all that belongs to the Church, the rising and falling of money, fines and confiscations cast upon him by the law: but as for Wardships, they are only known in Normandy.
His expense is, chiefly, Ambassadors, munition, building, fortifying, and maintaining of galleys, (as for ships when he needs them, he makes an embarque [embargo]); in pay for soldiers, wages for officers, pensions at home and abroad; upon the entertaining his House, his State, and his private pleasures. And all the first, but the domains, were granted in the beginning upon some urgent occasion; and afterwards by Kings made perpetual, the occasion ceasing: and the domains themselves granted because the King should live upon his own without oppressing his subjects. But at this day, though the revenue be thus great, and the taxes unsupportable; yet do they little more than serve for necessary public uses. For the King of Spain's greatness and neighbourhood forceth the King there to live continually upon his guard: and the treasure which the Spaniard receives from his Indies, constrains him to raise his revenue thus by taxes, so to be able, in some proportion, to bear up against him; for fear, else, he should be bought out of all his confederates and servants.
* * * * *
For the relation of this State to others. It is first to be considered that this part of Christendom is balanced betwixt the three Kings of Spain, France, and England; as the other part [is] betwixt the Russian, the Kings of Poland, Sweden, and Denmark. For as for Germany, which if it were entirely subject to one Monarchy, would be terrible to all the rest: so being divided betwixt so many Princes and those of so equal power, it serves only to balance itself, and entertain easy war with the Turk; while the Persian withholds him in a greater. And every one of those first three hath his particular strength, and his particular weakness. Spain hath the advantage of both the rest in treasure, but is defective in men: his dominions are scattered and the conveyance of his treasure from the Indies lies obnoxious to [at the mercy of] the power of any nation that is stronger by sea. France abounds with men, lies close together, and hath money sufficiently. England, being an island, is hard to be invaded, abounds with men, but wants money to employ them. For their particular [several] weakness, Spain is to be kept busy in the Low Countries, France to be afflicted with the Protestants, and England, in Ireland. England is not able to subsist against any [either] of the other [two] hand in hand; but joined with the Low Countries it can give law to both by sea: joined with either of them two, it is able to oppress the third, as HENRY VIII. did.
Now the only entire body in Christendom that makes head against the Spanish Monarchy is France: and therefore they say in France, that, "The day of the ruin of France is the eve of the ruin of England." And thereupon England hath ever, since the Spanish greatness, inclined rather to maintain France, rather than to ruin it: as when King FRANCIS [I.] was taken prisoner, the King of England lent money towards the payment of his ransom; and the late Queen [ELIZABETH], when the Leaguers, after the Duke of GUISE's death, had a design to Cantonize France, though offered a part of that country, would not consent. So then, this reason of State, of mutual preservation, conjoining them; England may be accounted a sure confederate of France; and Holland, by reason it partly subsists by it; the Protestant Princes of Germany, because they have countenance from it, against the house of Austria; the Protestant Switzers, for religion and money; and the Venetians, for protection against the Spaniard in Italy. So that all their [the French's] friends are either Protestants or inclining thereto; and whosoever is extremely Catholic is their enemy, and factor for the Spanish Monarchy: as the Pope and Cardinals, for the most part; and totally, the Jesuits, the Catholic Princes of Germany, and the Catholics of England and Ireland. For the Jesuits, which are the Ecclesiastical Strength of Christendom, France--notwithstanding the many late obligations--hath cause to despair of them. For they intending as "one Pope, so one King" to suppress the Protestants; and for the better support of Christendom against the Turks: and seeing Spain the likelier to bring this to pass, they follow the nearer probability of effecting their end.
No addition could make France so dangerous to us, as that of our Low Countries; for so it were worse, than if the Spaniard himself had them entirely. As for their hopes of regaining Italy; it concerns the Spaniard immediately, rather than us.
Concerning the state of the Protestants in France. During peace, they are protected by their Edict [of Nantes]. For their two Agents at Court defend the general from wrong; and their chambres impartis every particular person. And if troubles should arise, some scattered particulars might be in danger; but the main body is safe. Safe to defend themselves, though all France join against them! and if it break out into factions, the safest; because they are both ready and united.
The particulars of their strength are, First, their Towns of Surety, two of which command the river of the Loire. Secondly, their situation. The greatest part of them lying near together, as Poitou, Saintonge, High [Upper] Gascony, Languedoc, and Dauphiny: near the sea, so consequently fit to receive succours from abroad; and remote from Paris, so that the quality of an army is much wasted, before it can approach them. The Third, is the sufficiency of their present Governors, BOULOGNE and DESDEGUIERS, and other second Commanders. And for the Princes of the Blood, whom the rest may, in shew, without emulation, obey; when they come once to open action, those which want a party, will quickly seek them. The Last, is the aid they are sure of from foreign Princes; for whosoever are friends to France in general, are more particularly their friends: and besides, the Protestant party being grown stronger of late, as the Low Countries; and more united, as England and Scotland, part of that strength reflects upon them. And even the King of Spain himself, who is [the] enemy of France in general, would rather give them succour than see them utterly extirpated. For as soon as they get an Edict with better conditions, they turn head against him that now succoured them; as they did against us, at Newhaven [Hâvre in 1562].
Concerning the proportion of their number, they are not above the Seventeenth or Eighteenth part of the People: but of the Gentlemen, there are 6,000 of the [Protestant] Religion. But since the peace [? in 1602] they have increased in People, as principally in Paris, Normandy, and Dauphiny, but lost in the Gentry: which loss cometh to pass by reason that the King when he finds any Gentleman that will but hearken, he tempts him with preferment; and those that he finds utterly obstinate, he suppresseth. And by such means, he hath done them more harm in peace; than both his predecessors in war. For in all their Assemblies, he corrupts some of their Ministers to betray the counsel in hand. Of the 106,000 crowns [= £31,800, or in present value £140,000] a year which he pays the Protestants to entertain their Ministers and pay their garrisons, he hath gotten the bestowing of 16,000 of them, upon what gentleman of the [Protestant] Religion he pleaseth; whom by that means he moderates, if not gains. And besides, they were wont to impose upon him their two Deputies, which are to stay at Court: but now he makes them propose six, out of which he chooseth the two, and by that, obligeth those; and yet notwithstanding all this, in some occasions he makes good use of them too. For as towards England, he placeth none in any place of strength but firm Catholics; so towards Spain and Savoy, he often gives charge to Protestants, as to LA FORCE in Bearn, DESDEGUIERS and BOISSE in Bresse.
* * * * *
Concerning the King himself. He is a person wonderful, both in war and peace. For his acts in War, he hath manumized [manumitted] France from the Spaniard: and subdued the League, being the most dangerous plot that hath been laid; weakening it by Arms, but utterly dissolving it by Wit. That is, by letting the Duke of GUISE out of prison, and capitulating with the heads of it, every one apart; by which means, he hath yet left a continual hatred among them. Because every one sought by preventing [anticipating] other, to make his conditions the better. So that now there remains little connection of it, amongst the Gentry: only there continue some dregs still among the Priests, and consequently the People; especially when they are angered with the increase and prosperity of the Protestants.
For his acts of Peace. He hath enriched France with a greater proportion of wool and silk, erected goodly buildings, cut passages [canals] betwixt river and river, and is about to do the same betwixt sea and sea, redeemed much of the mortgaged domains of the Crown, better husbanded the money (which was wont to be drunk up, two parts of it, in the officers' hands), got aforehand in treasure, arms, and munition, increased the infantry and suppressed the unproportionable cavalry, and left nothing undone but the building of a navy.
And all this may be attributed to himself, only: because in a Monarchy, officers are active or careless, as the Prince is able to judge and distinguish of their labours; and withal to participate of them somewhat, himself.
Sure it is, that the peace of France, and somewhat that of Christendom itself, is secured by this Prince's life. For all titles and discontents, all factions of religion there suppress themselves till his death: but what will ensue afterwards? What the rest of the House of BOURBON will enterprise upon the King's children? What the House of GUISE, upon that of BOURBON? What the League? What the Protestants? What the Kings of Spain and England, if they see a breach made by civil dissension? I choose rather to expect, than conjecture! Because GOD hath so many ways to turn aside from human foresight; as He gave us a testimony upon the death of our late Queen [ELIZABETH].
* * * * *
This country of France, considering the quantity, is the fairest and richest of all Christendom; and contains in it, most of the countries adjoining. For Picardy, Normandy, and Brittany resemble England; Languedoc, Spain; Provence, Italy; and the rest is France.
Besides, all the rivers that pass through it, end in it. It abounds with corn, wine, and salt, and hath a competency of silk; but is defective in wool, leather, metals, and horses: and hath but few very good havens, especially on the north side.
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Concerning the people. Their children, at first sight, seem men, and their men, children; but whoso, in negotiating, presumes upon appearances shall be deceived! compassionate towards their own nation and country; loving to the Prince, and so they may have liberty in ceremony and free access to him, they will be better content that he shall be absolute in matter of substance: impatient of peace any longer than while they are in recovering the ruins of war: the presentness [presence] of danger inflames their courage, but any expectation makes it languish. For the most part, they are all Imagination and no Judgement; but those that prove solid, excel!
Their Gentlemen are all good outward men, good Courtiers, good soldiers, and knowing enough in men and business; but merely [simply] ignorant in matters of Letters, because at fifteen they quit books and begin to live in the world: when indeed a mediocrity [medium] betwixt their form of education and ours, would do better than either. No men stand more punctually [punctiliously] upon their honour in matter of valour; and, which is strange, in nothing else: for otherwise, in their conversation, the custom, and shifting, and over-speaking, hath quite overcome the shame of it.
FINIS.
+ABRAHAM COWLEY.+
The Chronicle. A BALLAD.
[Miscellanies. Works. 1668.]
I.
MARGARITA first possest, If I remember well, my breast; MARGARITA, first of all! But when a while the wanton maid, With my restless heart had played, MARTHA took the flying ball.
II.