Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A02132
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A maidens dreame vpon the death of the Right Honorable Sir Christopher Hatton knight, late Lord Chancelor of England / by Robert Green ...
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Greene, Robert, 1558?-1592.
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1591
(1591)
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STC 12271; ESTC S2695
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7,286
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21
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A MAIDENS DREAME VPON THE DEATH OF THE right Honorable Sir Christopher Hatton Knight late Lord Chancelor of ENGLAND By Robert Green Master of Arts. Imprinted at London by Thomas Scarlet for Thomas Nelson 1591. TO THE RIGHT VVORSHIPFVL BOVNtifull and vertuous Ladie the Ladie Elizabeth Hatton Wife to the right Worshipfull Sir William Hatton Knight increase of all honorable vertues MOurning as well as many right Worshipfull Ladie for the late losse of the right Honorable your deceased Vnckle whose death being the common preiudice of a present age was lamented of most if not all and I among the rest sorrowing that my Countrie was depriued of him that liued not for himselfe but for his Countrie I began to call to mind what a subiect was ministred to the excellent wits of both Vniuersities to work vpon when so worthie a knight and so vertuous a Iusticiarie had by his death left many memorable actions performed in his life deseruing highly by some rare men to be registred Passing ouer many daies in this muse at last I perceiued mens humors slept that loue of many friends followed no farther then their graues that Art was growen idle and either choice schollers feared to write of so high a subiect as his vertues or else they dated their deuotions no further then his life While thus I debated with my selfe I might see to the great disgrace of the Poets of our time some Mycanicall wits blow vp mountaines and bring forth mise who with their follies did rather disparage his Honors than decypher his vertues beside as Virtutis comes est inuidia so base report who hath her tong blistered by slanderous enuie began as farre as she durst now after his death to murmure who in his life time durst not once mutter whervpon touched with a Zealous iealousie ouer his wonderfull vertues I could not whatsoeuer discredit I reapt by my presumption although I did Tenui Auena meditari but discouer the honorable qualities of so worthie a Counsellor not for anie priuat benefit I euer had of him which should induce me fauorably to flatter his worthie partes but onely that I shame to let slip with silence the vertues and honors of so worthie a knight whose deserts had bin so many and so great towards al. Therfore right worshipful Ladie I drewe a fictioÌ„ called A Maidens Dreame which as it is Enigmaticall so it is not without some speciall and considerate reasons Whose slender Muse I present vnto your Ladiship induced therunto first that I know you are partaker of your husbands sorrowes for the death of his honourable Vncle and desire to heare his honors put in memorie after his death as you wished his aduancement in vertues to be great in his life as also that I am your Ladiships poore CountrimaÌ„ and haue long time desired to gratifie your right worshipfull father with some thing worthie himselfe Which because I could not to my content performe I haue now taken oportunitie to shew my duetie to him in his daughter although the gift be farre too meane for so worshipfull and vertuous a Lady Yet hoping your Ladishippe will with courtesie fauour my presuming follies and in gratious acceptance vouch of my well meant labours I humbly take my leaue Your Ladiships humbly at commaund R. Greene. Nordouicensis A Maidens Dreame ME thought in slumber as I lay and dreamt I sawe a silent spring raild in with Ieat From sunnie shade or murmur quite exempt The glide whereof gainst weeping flints did beat And round about were leauelesse beeches set So darke it seemed nights mantle for to borrow And well to be the gloomie den of sorrow About this spring in mourning roabes of blacke Were sundrie Nymphs or Goddesses me thought That seemly sate in rankes iust backe to backe On Mossie benches Nature there had wrought And cause the wind spring no murmure brought They fild the aire with such laments and groanes That Eccho sigh'd out their heart-breaking mones Elbow on knee and head vpon their hand As mourners sit so sat these Ladies all Garlands of Eben-bowes whereon did stand A golden crowne their mantles were of pall And from their waterie eies warme teares did fall With wringing hands they sat and sigh'd like those That had more griefe then well they could disclose I lookt about and by the fount I spied A Knight lie dead yet all in armour clad Booted and spurd a faâ—â—ciâ—on by his side A Crowne of Oâ—â—â—â—â— on his helme he had She seemed wounded by her panting breath Her beating breast with sighs did fall and rise Wounds was there none it was her masters death That drew Electrum from her weeping eies Like scalding smoake her braying throbs outflies As Deere do mourne when arrow hath them galled So was this Hinde with Hart-sicke pains inthralled Iust at his head there sate a sumptuous Queene I gest her so for why she wore a crowne Yet were her garments parted white and greene Tierd like vnto the picture of renowne Vpon her lap she laid his head a downe Vnlike to all she smiled on his face Which made me long to know this dead mans case As thus I lookt gan Iustice to arise I knew the Goddes by her equall beame And dewing on his face balme from her eies She wet his visage with a yearnfull streame Sad mournfull lookes did from her arches gleame And like to one whom sorrow deep attaints With heaued hands she poureth forth these plaints The Complaint of Iustice. VNtoward Twins that tempers humane fate who from your distaffe draws the life of man Parce impartiall to the highest state Too soone you cut what Clotho earst began Your fatall doomes this present age may ban For you haue robd the world of such a knight As best could skil to ballance Iustice right His eyes were seates for mercy and for law Fauour in one and Iustice in the other The poore he smoth'd the proud he kept in aw As iust to strangers as vnto his brother Bribes could not make him any wrong to smother For to a Lord or to the lowest groome Stil conscience and the cawes set down the doome Delaying law that picks the clients purse Ne could this Knight abide to heare debated From day to day that claimes the poor mans curse Nor might the pleas be ouer-long dilated Much shifts of law there was by him abated With conscience carefully he heard the cause Then gaue his doome with short dispatch of lawes The poore mans crie he thought a holy knell No sooner gan their suites to pearce his eares But faire-eyed pitie in his heart did dwell And like a father that affection beares So tendred he the poore with inward teares And did redresse their wrongs when they did call But poore or rich he still was iust to all Oh wo is me saith Iustice he is dead The knight is dead that was so iust a man And in Asteras lap low lies his head Who whilom wonders in the world did scan Iustice
happy be his high immortal rest That was to hospitalitie addrest For few such liue and then she sigh'd so sore And so she wept that she could speak no more Then Courtesie whose face was full of smiles And frendship with her hand vpon her hart And tender Charitie that loues no wiles And Clemencie her passions did impart A thousand vertues there did straight vp start And with their teares and sighes they did disclose For Hattons death their harts were ful of woes The complaint of Religion NExt from the farthest nooke of all the place Weping full sore there rose a nimph in black Seemelie and sober with an Angels face And sighd as if her heart-strings straight should crak Hir outward woes bewraid her inward wracke A golden booke she caried in her hand It was religion that thus meeke did stand God wot her garments were full looslie tucked As one that carelesse was in some despaire To tatters were her roabes and vestures pluckt Her naked lims were open to the aire Yet for all this her lookes were blith and faire And wondring how religion grew forlorne I spied her roabes by Heresie was torne This holy creature sate her by this knight And sigh'd out this Oh here he lies quoth she Liuelesse that did religions lampe still light Deuout without dissembling meeke and free To such whose words and liuings did agree Lip-holines in Cleargie men he could not brooke Ne such as counted gold aboue their booke Vpright he liu'd as holy writ him lead His faith was not in ceremonies old Nor had he new found toies within his head Ne was he luke-warme neither hot nor colde But in religion he was constant bold And still a sworne professed fo to all Whose lookes were smooth harts pharesaicall The brainsicke and illiterate surmisers That like to Saints would holy be in lookes Of fond religions fabulous deuisers Who scornd the Academies and their bookes And yet could sin as others in close nookes To such wild-headed mates he was a foe That rent her robes and wrongd Religion so Ne was his faith in mens traditions He hated Antichrist and all his trash He was not led away with superstitions Nor was he in religion ouer rash His hands from heresie he loued to wash Then base report ware what thy tongue doth spred Tis sin and shame for to bely the dead Hart-holy men he still kept at his table Doctors that wel could doom of holie writ By them he knew to seuer faith from fable And how the text with iudgement for to hit For Pharisies in Moses chaire did sit At this Religion sigh'd and greeu ' so sore And so she wept that she could speak no more Primate Next might I see a rowt of Noble-men Earles Barons Lords in mourning weedes attir'd I cannot paint their passions with my pen Nor write so queintly as their woes requir'd Their teares and sighs some Homers quil desir'd But this I know their grief was for his death That there had yeelded nature life and breath Milites Then came by Souldiers trailing of their pikes Like men dismaid their beuers were adown Their warlike hearts his death with sorrow strikes Yea war himselfe was in a sable gowne For griefe you might perceiue his visage frowne And Scholers came by with lamenting cries Wetting their bookes with teares fel from their eies Plebs The common people they did throng in flocks Dewing their bosomes with their yernfull teares Their sighs were such as would haue rent the rocks Their faces ful of griefe dismay and feares Their cries stroke pittie in my listning eares For why the groanes are lesse at hels black gate Then Eccho there did then reuerberate Some came with scrolles and papers in their hand I ghest them sutors that did rue his losse Some with their children in their hand did stand Some poore and hungrie with their hands acrosse A thousand there sate wayling on the mosse O pater Patriae stil they cried thus Hatton is dead what shal become of vs At all these cries my heart was sore amoued Which made me long to see the dead mans face What he should be that was so deare beloued Whose worth so deepe had won the peoples grace As I came pressing neere vnto the place I lookt and though his face were pale and wan Yet by his visage I did know the man No sooner did I cast mine eie on him But in his face there flasht a ruddie hue And though before his lookes by death were grim Yet seemd he smiling to my gazing view As if though dead my presence still he knew Seeing this change within a dead mans face I could not stop my teares but wept a pace I cald to minde how that it was a knight That whilome liu'd in Englands happie soile I thought vpon his care and deepe insight For Countries weale his labour and his toile He tooke least that the English state might foile And how his watchfull thought from first had bee Vowed to the honor of the maiden Queene I cald to minde againe he was my friend And held my quiet as his hearts content What was so deare for me he would not spend Then thoght I straight such friends are seldom hent Thus still from loue to loue my humor went That pondering of his loayltie so free I wept him dead that liuing honord me At this Astraea seeing me so sad Gan blithly comfort me with this replie Virgin quoth she no boote by teares is had Nor doth laments ought pleasure them that die Soules must haue change from this mortalitie For liuing long sinne hath the larger space And dying well they finde the greater grace And sith thy teares bewraies thy loue quoth she His soule with me shall wend vnto the skies His liuelesse bodie I will leaue to thee Let that be earthde and tombde in gorgeous wise Ile place his ghost amongst the Hierarchies For as one starre another far exceeds So soules in heauen are placed by their deeds With that me thought within her golden lap This Sun-bright Goddesse smiling with her eie The soule of Hatton curiously did wrap And in a cloud was taken vp on hie Vaine Dreames are fond but thus as then dreamt I And more me thought I heard the Angels sing An Alleluia for to welcome him As thus attendant faire Astrea flew The Nobles Commons yea and euerie wight That liuing in his life time Hatton knew Did deepe lament the losse of that good Knight But when Astrea was quite out of sight For griefe the people shouted such a screame That I awooke and start out of my dreame FINIS