The Garland of Good Will

Front matter

THE

GARLAND

OF

The faire Lady Rosamond

A Mournfull Dittie, on the death of Rosamond, K. Henry the seconds Concubine.

1.

To the Tune of, When flying Fame.

When as King Henry rul'd this Land, the second of that name, Besides the Queene he déerely lou'd a faire and Princely Dame. Most péerelesse was her beauty found, her fauour and her face: A swéeter creature in this world, did neuer Prince embrace.

Her crisped locks like threds of Gold, appeared to each mans sight: Her comely eyes like Orient pearles, did cast a heauenly light. The bloud within her Christall cheekes, did such a colour driue:

As though the Lilly and Rose, for mastership did striue.

Yet Rosamond, faire Rosamond, her name was called so: To whom Dame Elinor the Quéene, was knowne a cruell foe. The King therefore for her defence, against the furious Quéene: At woodstocke builded such a bower, the like was neuer séene.

Most curiously this Bower was built of stone and timber strong, An hundred and fifty doores, did to that bower belong. And they so cunningly contiiu'd with turnings round about: That none but with a clew of three, could enter in or out.

And for his Loue and Ladies sake, that was so faire and bright: The keeping of the Bower he gaue, unto a valiant Knight. But fortune that both often frowne, where she before did smile: The Kings delight, the Ladies ioy,

full soone she did beguile.

For while the Kings vngracious sonne, whom he did high aduance: Again his Father raised warre, within the Realme of France. But yet our comely King, the English land forsooke: Of Rosamond his Lady faire, his farewell thus he tooke.

My Rosamond, the only Rose that pleaseth best mine eye: The fairest Rose in all the world to féed my fantasie. The flower of mine afflicted heart, whose swéetnesse doth excell: My royall Rose a thousand times, I bid thée now farewell.

For I must leaue my fairest flower, my swéetest Rose a space, And crosse the seas to famous france, proud Rebels to abase. But yet my Rose be sure thou shalt my comming shortly sée: And in my heart while hence I am Ile beare my Rose with me.

When Rosamond the Lady bright, did heare the King lay so: The sorrow of her grieued heart, her outward lookes did show, And from her cleare and christall eyes, the teares gusht out apace: Which like a siluer pearled dew, ran downe her comely face.

Her lips like to a Corall red, did wax both wan and pale, And for the sorrow she conceiu'd her vitall spirits did faile. So falling downe all in a swoone before King Henries face: Full oft betweene his Princely armes, her corps he did embrace.

And twenty times with watry eyes he kist her tender cheeke: Untill he had receiu'd againe her senses mil'd and méeke. thy gréeues my Rose, my swéetest Rose the King did euer say: Because, quoth she to bloudy warres, my Lord must part away.

But sith your grace in forren coast,

among your foes vnkind. Must go hazard life and limbe, why should I stay behind? Nay, rather let me like a Page, your shield and Target beare, That on my brest the blow may light, that should annoy you there.

O let me in your Royall Tent, prepare your bed at night: And with swéet baths refresh your Grace at your returne from fight. So I your presence may enioy, no toyle I must refuse: But wanting you, my life is death, which doth true loue abuse.

Content thy selfe my dearest loue, thy rest at home shall be: In Englands swéet and pleasant soile for trauell fits not thée. Faire Ladies brooke not bloudy warres, swéete peace their pleasure bréede: The nourisher of hearts content which fancy first doth féed.

My Rose shall rest in Woodstocke Bower, with Musickes swéet delight:

While I among the piercing pikes, against my foes do fight. My Rose in robes and pearles of Gold, with Diamonds richly dite: Shall dance the Galliard of my loue, while I my foes do smite.

And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust, to be my loues defence: Be carefull of my gallant Rose, when I am parted hence. And there withall he fetcht a sigh, as though his heart would breake: And Rosamond for inward griefe, not one plaine word could speake.

For at his parting well they might, in heart be grieued sore: After that day, faire Rosamond the King bid sée no more. For when his Grace had past the seas, and into France was gone: Quéene Elinor with enuious heart, to Woodstocke came anon.

And forth she cal'd this trusty Knight, which kept this curious Bower: Who with his clew of twined thred,

came from that famous flower. And when that they had wounded him the Quéene his thred did get: And came where Lady Rosamond was like an Angell set.

But when the Quéene with stedfast eyes, beheld her heauenly face: She was amazed in her mind, at her excéeding grace. Cast off thy Robes from thée, she said, that rich and costly be: And drinke thée up this deadly draught which I haue bought for thée.

But presently upon her knées, sweet Rosamond did fall: And pardon of the Quéene she crau'd, for her offences all. Take pitty on my youthfull yeares, faire Rosamond did cry: And let me not with poison strong, enforced be to dye.

I will renounce this sinfull life, and in a Cloister bide: Or else be banisht if you please, to range the world so wide.

And for the fault that I haue done, though I were forc't thereto: Preserue my life and punish me, as you thiuke best to do.

And with these words, her Lilly hands she wrung full often there: And downe along her louely cheekes, procéeded many a teare. But nothing could this furious Quéene therewith appeased be: The cup of deadly poyson fil'd, as she sate on her knée.

She gaue this comely Dame to drinke, who tooke it from her hand: And from her bended knée arose, and on her feet did stand. And casting by her eyes to heauen, she did for mercy call: And drinking up the poyson then, her life she lost withall.

And when that death through euery limbe, had done his greatest spight: Her chiefest foes bid plaine confesse, she was a glorious sight. Her body then they did intombe,

when life was fled away: At Godstow néere to Oxford Towne as may be séene this day.

FINIS.

Shores wife

2.

A New Sonnet, containing the Lamentation of Shores wife, who was sometime Concubine to King Edward the fourth, setting forth her great fall, and withall her most miserable and wretched end.

To the tune of, the hunt is vp.

LIsten faire Ladies Unto my misery: That liued late in pompous state, most delightfully. And now by Fortunes faire dissimulation, Brought to cruell and uncouth plagues, most spightfully.

Shores wife I am, Do knowne by name: And at the Flower-de-luce in Cheapside, was my dwelling: The only daughter of a wealthy merchant man,

Against whose councell euermore I was rebelling.

Yong was I loued No affection moued My heart or mind to giue or yéeld to their consenting. My Parents thinking richly for to wed me, Forcing me to that which caused My repenting.

Then being wedded, I was quickly tempted, My beauty caused many Gallants to salute me. The King commanding, I straight obeyed, For his chiefest iewell then, He did repute me.

Braue was I trained, Like a Quéene I raigned, And many poore mens suits by me was obtained. In all the Court, to none was such resort As unto me, though now in scorne, I be disdained.

When the King dyed,

My griefe I tryed: From the Court I was expelled, with dispight. The Duke of Gloster being Lord Protector, Tooke away my goods, against all law and right.

In a Procession, For my transgression, Bare foot he made me go, for to shame me. A Crosse before me there was carried plainly, As a pennance for my former life, so to tame me.

Then through London. Being thus undone, The Lord Protector published, a Proclamation: On paine of death I should not be harbord, Which furthermore encreast my sorrow and veration.

I that had plenty, And dishes dainty: Moft sumptuously brought to my doore at my pleasure: Being full poore, from doore to doore,

I begd my bread with clacke and dish, at my leysure.

My rich attire, By Fortunes yre, To rotten rags and nakednesse they are beaten. My body soft, which the King embraced oft, With vermine vile annoyed and eaten.

On stalls and stones, Did lye my bones, That wonted was in beds of Downe to be placed. And you sée my finest pillowes be, Of stinking straw, both dirt and dung, thus disgraced.

Wherefore faire Ladies, With your swéet babies, My grieuous fall beare in your minde, and behold me: How strange a thing, that the loue of a King, Should come to dye vnder a stall, as I told yée.

FINIS.

How King Edgar was deceaved

3.

<>A New Song of King Edgar, King of England, <>how he was depriued of a Lady, which <>he loued, by a Knight of his <>Court.

<>To be sung in the old ancient sort, or else to the <>Tune of Labandalashot.

When as King Edgar did gouerne this land, adowne, adowne, downe, down, down, And in the strength of his yéeres did stand, call him downe a. Such praise was spred of a gallant Dame, Which did through England carry great fame, And she a Lady of noble degrée. The Earle of Deuonshires daughter was she, The King which lately had buried his Queene, And not long time had a Widdower beene. Hearing this praise of this gallant Maid, Upon her beauty his loue he laid And in his sighes he would often say, I will go send for that Lady gay: Yea, I will go send for that Lady bright, Which is my treasure and delight: Whose beauty like to Phœbus beames, Doth glister through all Christian Realmes,

Then to himselfe he would reply, Saying, how fond a Prince am I, To cast my loue so base and low, Upon a Gyrle I do not know, King Edgar will his fancy frame, To loue some pèerelesse Princely Dame, The daughter of a royall King. That may a worthy dowry bring: Whose matchlesse beauty brought in place, May Estrilds colour cleane disgrace. But senselesse man what do I meane, Upon a broken réede to leane: Or what fond fury doth me moue Thus to abase my dearest Loue? Whose visage grac't with heauenly hue Doth Helens honour quite subdue. The glory of her beauties pride, Swéet Estrilds fauour doth deride. Then pardon my unseemely spéech Deare loue and Lady I beséech, For I my thoughts will henceforth frame, To spred the honour of thy name. Then vnto him he cal'd a Knight, Which was most trusty in his sight, And unto him thus did he say: To Earle Orgarus go thy way, Where aske for Estrilds comely Dame, Whose beauty went so farre by fame,

And if thou find her comely grace, As Fame hath spread in euery place: Then tell her Father she shall be My crowned Quéene if she agrée. The Knight in message did procéed, And into Deuonshire with spéed: But when he saw the Lady bright, He was so rauisht at her sight, That nothing could his passion moue, Except he might obtaine her loue: For day and night while there he staid, He courted still this péerlesse Maid: And in his suit he shewed such skill, That at the length won her good will. Forgetting quite the duty tho, Which he vnto the King did owe: When comming home vnto his Grace, He told him with dissembling face, That these reporters were too blame, That so aduanc'd that Maidens name. For I assure your Grace quoth he, She is as other women be: Her beauty of such great report, No better then the common sort, And farre vnméet in euery thing, To match with such a Noble King. But though her face be nothing faire, Yet sith she is her Fathers heire,

Perhaps some Lord of high degrée. Would very faine her husband be: Then if your Grace would giue consent, I would my selfe be well content, The Damosell for my wife to take, For her great Lands and Liuings sake. The King whom thus he did deceiue, Incontinent did giue him leaue: For on that point he did not stand, For why he had no néed of Land. Then being glad he went his way, And wedded Straight that Lady gay: The fairest creature bearing life, Had this false Knight vnto his wife: And by that match of high degrée, And Earle soone after that was he. Ere he long time had married béene, That many had her beauty séene: Her praise was spred both farre and neare The King againe thereof did heare: Who then in heart did plainely proue, He was betrayed of his loue. Though thereof he was bered sore, Yet séem'd he not to grieue therefore, But kept his countenance good and kinde, As though he bare grudge in minde. But on a bay it came to passe, When as the King full merry was,

To Ethelwoed in sport he said, I muse what chéere there would be made, If to thy house I should resort, A night or two for Princely sport: Wereat the Earle shewd countenance glad, Though in his heart he was sore sad: Saying Your Grace shall welcome be, If so your grace would honour me. When as the day appointed was, Before the King did thither passe, The Earle before hand did prepare, The Kings comming to declare: And with a countenance passing grim, He cal'd his Lady vnto him. Saying with sad and heauy cheare I pray you when the King comes here, Sweet Lady as you tender me, Let your attire but homely be, Nor wash not thou thine Angels face, But do thy beauty cleane disgrace: Thereto thy gesture so apply It may séeme lothsome to the eye. For if the King should there behold, Thy glorious beauty so extold: Then should my life soone shortned be, For my deserts and trechery. When to the Father first I came, Though I did not declare the same,

Yet was I put in trust to bring, The ioyfull tydings to the King: Who for the glorious beauty séene, Did thinke of thée to make his Quéene: But when I had thy person found, Thy beauty gaue me such a wound, No rest nor comfort could I take, Till you swéet loue my griefe did slake: And thus, though duty charged me, Most faithfull to my Lord to be: Yet loue upon the other side, Bad for my selfe I should prouide: Then for my suit and seruice showne, At length I won you for mine owne. And for your loue and wedlocke spent, Your choice you néed no whit repent. Then sith my griefe I haue exprest, Swéet Lady grant me my request. Good words she gaue with smiling cheare, Musing at that which the did heare: And casting many things in mind, Great fault herewith she séem'd to find: But in her selfe she thought it shame: To make that soule which God did frame: Most costly robes full rich therefore, In brauest sort that day she wore: Doing all things that ere she might, To set her beauty forth to sight.

And her best skill in euery thing, She shewed to entertaine the King: Whereby the King so snared was, That reason quite from him did passe: His heart by her was set on fire, He had to her a great desire: And for the lookes he gaue her then, For euery looke she lent him ten: Therefore the King perceiued plaine, His loue and lookes were not in vaine. Upon a time it chanced so, The King he would a hunting goe, And as they through a Wood did ride, The Earle on horsebacke by his side: For so the story telleth plaine, That with a shaft the Earle was slaine So when that he had lost his life, He tooke the Damsell vnto wife, who married her all shame to shunne, By whom he did beget a son. Thus he that did the King deceiue, Did by desert this death receiue: Then to conclude and make an end, Be true and faithfull to thy friend.

FINIS.

How Coventry was made free

4.

How Couentry was made free by Godina, Countesse of Chester.

To the tune of Prince Arthur died at Ludlow.

Leofricus the Noble Earle, Of Chester as I reade, Did for the City of Couentry, Many a noble deed. Great priuiledges for the towne This Nobleman did get. And of all things did make it so, That they tole free did sit: Saue onely that for horses still, They did some custome pay: Which was great charges to the towne, Full long and many a day. Therefore his wife Godina faire, Did of the Earle request, That therefore he would make it free As well as all the rest. So when the Lady long had sued, Her purpose to obtaine: Her noble Lord at length she tooke, Within a pleasant vaine.

And vnto him with smiling cheare, She did forthwith procéed, Entreating greatly that he would Performe that goodly déed. You moue me much faire dame (quoth he) Your suit I faine would shunne: But what would you performe and do, To haue this matter done? Why any thing, my Lord quoth she, You will with reason craue: I will performe it with good will, If I my wish may haue. If thou wilt grant one thing he said, Which I shall now require, So soone as it is finished, Thou shalt haue thy desire. Command what you thinke good, my Lord, A will thereto agrée: On that condition that this Towne, For euer may be frée. If thou wilt strip thy clothes off, And here wilt lay them downe, And at noone day on horse backe ride Starke naked through the Towne, They shall be frée for euermore: If thou wilt not do so, More liberty then now they haue, I neuer will bestow.

The Lady at this strange demand, Was much abasht in mind: And yet for to fulfill this thing, She neuer a whit repind. Therefore to all the Officers, Of all the Towne she sent: That they perceiuing her good will. Which for the weale was bent. That on the day that she should ride, All persons through the Towne, Should kéep their houses, and shut their doores, And clap their windowes downe. So that no creature yong or old, Should in the street be séene: Till she had ridden all about, Thoughout the City cleane, And when the day of riding came, No person did her sée, Saving her Lord: after which time, The towne was euer frée.

FINIS.

Of the Duke of Cornwals Daughter

5.

How the Dukes daughter of Cornwall being married vnto King Locrine, was by him put away, and a strange Lady whom he better loued, hee married, and made her his Queene, and how his wife was auenged.

<>To the Tune of, in Crete.

When Humber in his wrathfull rage, King Albanacke in field had slaine: Those bloudy broiles for to asswage, King Locrine then applyed his paine: And with an heart of Brittaines stout, At length he found King Humber out.

At vantage great he met him then, And with his hoast beset him so, That he destroy'd his warlike men, And Humbers power did ouerthrow: And Humber which for feare did flie, Leapt into a Riuer desperately.

And being drowned in the déepe,

He left a Lady there aliue, Which sadly did Lament and wéepe, For feare they should her life depriue: But by her face that was so faire, The King was caught in Cupids snare.

He tooke this Lady to his loue, Who secretly did kéepe her still: So that the Quéene did quickly proue, The King did beare her small good will: Which though in wedlocke late begun, He had by her a gallant sonne.

Quéene Guendoline was grieu'd in minde, To sée the King was altered so: At length the cause she chanc't to finde, Which brought her to most bitter woe. For Estrild was his ioy (God wot) By whom a daughter he begot.

The Duke of Cornwall being dead, The Father of that Gallant Quéene: The King with lust being ouerled, His lawfull wife he cast off cleane: Who with her deare and tender sonne, For succour did to Cornewall runne.

Then Locrine crowned Estrild bright,

And made of her his lawfull wife, With her which was his hearts delight, He thought to leade a pleasant life: Thus Guendoline as one forlorne, Was of her husband held in scorne.

But when the Cornish men did know, The great abuse she did endure: With her a number great did go, Which she by prayers did procure: In battell then they marcht along, For to redresse this grieuous wrong.

And neare a Riuer called Store, The King with all his hoast she met: Where both the armies fought fur fore, But the Queene the field did get: Yet ere they did the conquest gaine, The King was with an arrow slaine.

Then Guendoline did take in hand, Untill her sonne was come to age: The gouernment of all the Land. But first her fury to asswage, She did command the souldiers wild, To drowne both Estrild and her child.

Incontinent then they did bring,

Faire Estrild to the Riuers side, And Sabrine Daughter to a King, whom Guendoline could not abide: Who being bound together fast, Into the Riuer they were cast.

And euer since that running streame, Wherein the Ladies drowned were: Is called Seuerne through the Realme, Because that Sabrine dyed there. Thus they that did to lewdnesse bend, Were brought vnto a wofull end.

FINIS.

A Song of Queene Isabell

6.

A song of Queene Isabel, wife to King Edward the second, how by the Spencers shee was constrained secretly to goe out of England with her eldest sonne, Prince Edward, to seeke for succour in France, and what hapned vnto her in her iourney.

Proud were the Spencers, and of condition ill All England and the King likewise, They ruled at their will: And many Lords and nobles of this Land,

Through their occasion lost their liues, and none did them withstand: And at the last they did increase their griefe, Betwéene the King and Isabel, his Queene and faithfull wife. So that her life she dreaded wondrous sore, And cast within her secret thoughts, some present helpe therefore.

Thus she requests with countenance graue and sage. That she to Thomas Beckets tombe, might go on Pilgrimage. Then being ioyfull to haue that happy chance, Her sonne and shée tooke ship with spéed, and sailed vnto France. And royally she was receiued then, By the King and all the rest, of Péeres and Noblemen. And vnto him at last she did expresse, The cause of her arriuall there, her griefe and heauinesse.

When as her bother her griefe did understand He gaue her leaue to gather men, throughout his famous Land: And made his promse to aid her euermore, As ought as she could stand in néed, with Gold and Siluer store.

But when indéed he should performe the same, He was as farre from doing it, as when she thither came. And did proclaime while matters yet were greene, That none on paine of death should go to aide the English Quéene.

This alteration did greatly grieue the Quéene, That downe along her comely face, the bitter teares were séene. When she perceiu'd her friends forsooke her so, She knew not for her safety which way to turne or go: But through good hap at last she then decreed, To séeke in fruitfull Germanie, some succour in this néed. And to Sir Iohn Henault then went she, Who entertain'd this wofull Queene, with great solemnity.

And with great sorrow to him she then complaind, Of all her griefes and iniuries which she of late sustain'd: So that with wéeping she dim'd her Princely sight The summe whereof did greatly grieue, that noble courteous Knight: Who made an Oath, he would her Champion be, And in her quarrell spend his bloud:

from wrong to let her frée: And all my friends with whom I may preuaile Shall helpe for to aduance your state, whose truth no time shall faile.

And in this promise most faithful he was found And many Lords of great account, was in this voyage bound. So setting forward with a goodly traine, At length through Gods especiall grace, into England they came. At Harwich then when they were come ashore, Of English Lords and Barons bold, there came to her great store. Which did reioyce the Quéenes afflicted heart, That English Nobles in such sort, come to take her part.

When as king Edward hereof did vnderstand, How that the Quéene with such a power, was entred on his Land. And how his Nobles were gone to take her part, He fled from London presently, Euen with a heauy heart: And with the Spencers did vnto Bristoll goe, To fortifie that Gallant Towne, great cost he did bestow: Leauing behind to gouerne London Towne

The stout Bishop of Exeter, whose pride was soone pul'd downe.

The Mayor of London with citizens great stord, The Bishop and the Spencers both, in hearts they did abhore: Therefore they tooke him without feare & dread, And at the Standard in Cheapside, they soone smote off his head. Unto the Quéene this message then they sent. The City of London was at her commandement: Wherefore the Quéene with all her companie, Did straight to Bristow march amaine, whereas the King did lye.

Then she befieg'd the City round about, Threatning sharpe and cruell death to those that were so stout: Wherefore the townsmen their children & their wiues, Did yéeld the City to the Quéene, for safegard of their liues. Where was tooke, the story plaine doth tell, Sir Hugh Spencer, and with him the Earle of Arandel. This iudgement iust the Nobles did set downe, They should be drawne and hanged both, in sight of Bristow Towne.

Then was King Edward in the Castle there; And young Hugh Spencer still with him, in dread and deadly feare. And being prepar'd from thence to saile away, The winds were found so contrary, they were inforc't to stay: But at the last Sir Henry Beamond Knight, Did bring their sailing ship to shore, and so did stay their flight: And so these men were taken full spéedily, And brought as prisoners to the Quéene, which did in Bristow lye.

The Quéene by counsell of the Lords & Barons bold, To Barkely Castle sent the King, there to be kept in hold. And young Hugh Spencer that did much ill procure, Was to the Marshall of the Hoast, sent vnto kéeping sure. And then the Quéene to Hereford tooke her way, with all her warlike company, which late in Bristow lay. And here behold how Spencer vsed was, From towne to towne, euen as the Quéene to Hereford did passe.

Upon a Iade which they by chance had found, Young Spencer mounted was,

with legs and hands fast bound: A written paper along as he did go, Upon his head he had to weare, which did his treason shew. And to deride this Traytor lewd and ill, Certaine men with Reeden Pipes, did blow before him still: Thus was he led along in euery place, While many people did reioyce, to sée his great disgrace.

When unto Hereford our noble Queene was come, She did assemble all the Lords and Knights, both all and some: And in their presence yong Spencer iudgement had To be both hang'd and quartered, his treasons were so bad. Then was the King deposed of his Crowne, From rule and Princely dignitie, the Lords did cast him downe. And in his life his son both wise and sage, Was crowned king of faire England, at fiftéene yeares of age.

FINIS.

The banishment of two Dukes

7.

A Song of the banishment of two Dukes. Hereford and Norfolke.

Two Noble Dukes of great renowne, that long had liu'd in fame, Through hatefull enuie were cast downe, and brought to sudden shame. The Duke of Hereford was the one, a prudent Prince and wise; 'Gainst whom such malice there was showne, which soone in sight did rise.

The Duke of Norfolke most vntrue, declared to the King: The Duke of Hereford greatly grew in hatred of each thing, Which by his grace was acted still, against both high and low: And how he had a trayterous will, his state to ouerthrow.

The Duke of Hereford then in hast, was sent for to the King: And by his Lords in order plac't, examined of each thing. Which being guiltlesse of this crime, which was against him laid: The Duke of Norfolke at that time,

these words vnto him said.

How canst thou with a shamelesse face, deny a truth so stout. And here before his Royall Grace, so falsly face it out? Did not these treasons from thée passe, when we together were, How that the King vnworthy was the royall Crowne to beare?

Wherefore my gratious Lord (quoth he) and you his Noble Péeres: To whom I wish long life to be, with many happy yeares. I do pronounce before you all, the Duke of Hereford here, A traitor to our Noble King, as time shall shew it cleare.

The Duke of Hereford hearing that in mind was grieued much: And did returne this answer flat, which did Duke Norfolke touch. The terme of traitor, trothlesse Duke, in scorne and déepe disdaine: With flat defiance to thy face, Ide returne againe.