Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A07328
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The reigne of King Henry the Second written in seaven bookes. By his Majesties command.
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May, Thomas, 1595-1650.; Vaughan, Robert, engraver.
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1633
(1633)
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STC 17715; ESTC S122115
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72,475
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216
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bodies wrought And 't was the hand of heaven not Henry fought But killing griefe as if unconstant fate Already ' ganne to envy Henry's state Amidd'st these triumphs comes and all the joy Of this successe must one sad death destroy How deepe alas doe Loves disasters wound The woefull newes of murder'd Rosamund Was now to royall Henry brought Oh what Pathetike tongue can at the height relate How much he griev'd a starre-crost lovers woe No living tongue can tell they onely know Whom such a cause as that has reav'd of breath If those sad Ghosts should from the shades of death Arise not they themselves could speake that woe Which no expression once but death could show Yet may the Muse since Muses are divine Vnfold those depths thou saddest of the Nine Inspire my thoughts and lend thy skill to me Oh tune thy heavyest notes Melpomene And to the world in fitting accents sound The tragicke fate of fairest Rosamund Whilest old King Henry was beyond the Seas Detain'd in warre to guard those Provinces And scatter'd parts of his dominions 'Gainst Lewis of France and his unnaturall sonnes Whil'st England shaken was with loud alarmes And fill'd with forreine and rebellious armes Pale Nemesis that had possest before The jealous brest of raging Elianor In farre morâ—… horrid shapes was enter'd now And all her wrongs in doubled formes did show â—…ongst which the deepest piercing wrong she found Hâ—…r bed despis'd for love of Rosamund Then madd she raves t is not the subtilty Of that Daedalian Labyrinth quoth she Shall hide the strumpet from my vengefull hand Nor can her doating champion Henry stand Against me now to guard his Paramour If through the winding Mazes of her bower No art nor skill can passe the World shall know A Queenes revenge the house I le overthrow Levell those Iustfull buildings with the ground And in their ruines tombe his Rosamund There let him seeke her mangled limbs oh draw To my assistance just Rhamnusia I doe not strive a rivall to remoove T is now too late to seeke a husbands love I seeke revenge alone and in what part I may most deepely wound false Henry's heart The fairer and the more belov'd that she Is now the sweeter my revenge will be Oh grant that Henry to his Rosamund May feele desire as great as ere was found In man as great as beauty ere could moove To which adde all the Matrimoniall love He owes to me that when his flame is such The death of her may make his griefe as much In nothing now but Rosamund alone Can I afflict his heart what could be done In all his other comforts has beene try'd I have already drawne his sonnes to syde Against their father in unnaturall jarre And rais'd him up from his owne loynes a warre What could old Poets make Medea more Against false Iason doe tâ—…en Elianor Gainst him has done when Rosamund is dead Besides Creusaes death Medea shed Her childrens blood before their fathers eyes But I in stead of those mad tragedies In which my selfe with him should beare a part Can by his children more torment his heart Their deaths perchance though murder'd could not be So much his griefe as their impiety In which they now proceede their fathers crowne Is by their armes into the hazard throwne And to the full revenge I have begunne Does nothing want but her destruction At Oxford then with this revengefull minde The Queene abode a fitting time to finde For execution of her blacke intents Whilest every day her cruell instruments Were lurking neere to Woodstocke to descry A way to act this balefull tragedy Faire Rosamund within her bower of late While these sad stormes had shaken Henry's state And he from England last had absent beene Retir'd her selfe nor had that starre beene seene To shine abroade or with her lustre grace The woods or walkes adjoyning to the place About those places while the times were free Oft with a traine of her attendants she For pleasure walk'd and like the huntresse Queene With her light Nymphs was by the people seene Thither the countrey Ladds and Swaines that neere To Woodstock dwelt would come to gaze on her Their jolly Maygames there would they present Their harmelesse sports and rustick merryment To give this beautious Paragon delight Nor that officious service would she slight But their rude pastimes gently entertaine When ofâ—… some forward and ambitious swaine That durst presume unhappy Ladd to looke Too neere that sparkling beauty planet-strooke Return'd from thence and his hard hap did waile What now alas can Wake or Faire availe His love-sick minde no Whitsunale can please No Iingling Morris-dances give him ease The Pipe and Tabor have no sound at all Nor to the May-pole can his measures call Although invited by the merryest Lasses How little for those former joyes he passes But sits at home with folded armes or goes To carue on Beeches-barkes his piercing woes And too ambitious love Cupid they say Had stoll'n from Venus then and lurking lay About the fields and villages that nigh To Woodstock were as once in Arcady He did before and taught the rurall swaines Loves oratory and perswasive straines But now faire Rosamund had from the sight Of all withdrawne as in a cloud her light Envelop'd lay and she immured close Within her Bower since these sad stirres arose For feare of cruell foes relying on The strength and safeguard of the place alone If any place of strength enough could be Against a Queenes enraged jealousie Now came that fatall day ordayn'd to see Th' ecclipse of beauty and for ever be Accurs't by wofull lovers all alone Into her chamber Rosamund was gone Where as if fates into her soule had sent A secret notice of their dire intent Afflicting thoughts possest her as she sate She sadly weigh'd her owne unhappy state Her feared dangers and how farre alas From her reliefe engaged Henry was But most of all while pearly dropps distain'd Her rosie cheekes she secretly complain'd And wail'd her honours losse wishing in vaine She could recall her Virgine state againe When that unblemish'd forme so much admir'd Was by a thousand noble youths desir'd And might have moov'd a Monarchs lawfull flame Sometimes she thought how some more happy Dame By such a beauty as was hers had wonne From meanest birth the honour of a Throne And what to some could highest glories gaine To her had purchas'd nothing but a stayne There when she found her crime she check'd againe That high aspiring thought and gann complaine How muâ—…h alas the too too dazeling light Of Royall lustre had misled her sight Oh then she wish'd her beauties nere had been Renown'd that she had nere at Court beene seene Nor too much pleas'd enamour'd Henry's eye While thus she sadly mus'd a ruthfull cry Had pierc'd her tender eare and in the sound Was nam'd she thought unhappy Rosamund â—…he cry was utter'd by her grieved Mayde From whom that clew was taken that
when Henry crown'd his sonne Assistants at the coronation With Yorkes Archbishop for that office he Claim'd to belong to Canterburies See Nor would he then absolve them though in their Behalfe a Suitor young King Henry were While this was rumor'd there to second fame To old King Henry the wrong'd Bishops came And to his eare declar'd their grievances He vext at Beckets wilfull stubbornesse Such words though generall in his choller spoke As in some brests too deepe impression tooke Foure knights that heard by chance the kings discourse As Morvile Tracy Britaine and Fitz-Vrse Vnhappy men inflam'd with such a rage And erring zeale as no succeeding age Shall ever praise resolve in heate to doe For Henry's sake what Henry's selfe must rue And their sad memories as long as fame Has wings or tongues shall feele in lasting shame From Normandy without the Kings consent These foure unhappy Knights for England went To execute what they had there design'd And fondly thought would please their Soveraignes mind Archbishop Becket's death but found too soon What fatall service they to him had done How sad a cure fond wretches have you found For balme you powre in poyson to the wound And make that death which then was but a sore King Henryes cause is lost for evermore If Becket suffer so your selves are lost The King must suffer all but Rome are crost While Becket bleedes while you beare lasting staine While Henry grieves the Pope alone shall gaine â—…ate seem'd to pitty Henry and decree That he meane-while should breath in Normandy And from his England absent should remaine Whil'st England was defil'd with such a staine To Canterbury the foure Knights at last Arm'd with their followers came and freely past Into the Bishop's palace their intent Vnknowne had fill'd with feare and wonderment The peoples hearts who flocking up and downe Afâ—…ighted all but Becket he alone Whose head that suddaine danger threaten'd he In lookes and gesture unappall'd and free From all dismay their comming did receive And fearelesse answers to their threatnings give As if his courage strove not to asswage At all but to exasperate their rage Nor could that stoutnesse hasten on his fate So soone but or their faultring hands forgate To act it then or else unhappy they Not fully yet resolv'd upon the way A while for Counsell did retire from him How much the respite of that little time Did afterwards encrease their monstrous guilt Else in the Pallace had his blood beene spilt And not the sacred Temple made to be The seat of that inhumane butchery Which on their crime by circumstance of place Must set a fouler and more horrid face While thus the Knights retiâ—…e the Monkes in care Of Beckt's safety to himselfe declare How great a danger he was in desire That from the Pallace straight he would retire And to the Church for safeguard fly but he Too full of fatall magnanimity Disdaines to stirre but there resolues to stay By force at last they hurry him away When words prevaile not and in vayne alas Into the Temple as a safer place Convey his person but not all the awe Which so Divine a place from men should draw Not all the râ—…verend Roabes that Becket wore Nor th' high and sacred oâ—…ice which he bore When once those furious Knights were enter'd in Kept him from death nor them from deadly sinne In all his Roabes the great Archbishop slayne Did with his blood his owne Cathedrall stayne How much did every fatall circumstance In this abhorred act of theirs advance Thy â—…ame oh Becket their unhallowed rage Made thee not only pity'd by the age But worshipp'd too for them no infamy Is thought enough no dignity for thee How ill the people in so blinde an age Can keepe a meane in reverence or in rage They first pronounce thee innocent to be A Martyr then and then a Deity To thee they all will pray and to thy Tombe Shall greatest Kings in adoration come Even he to whom thou living owd'st thy knee Before thy shrine shall prostrate worship thee Whose gorgâ—…ous wealth and lustre shall outshine All other shrines as reliques most divine Not only shall thy nobler parts be worne In gold and gemmes but men shall strive t' adorne Thy meanest garments and obeisance doe To thy ridiculously-holy shoo Thither from farre shall Pilgrims come to pray Nay in her danger once a bird they say Could we beleeve that any bird would be Of such a Christian faith did pray to thee Soone to King Henry then in Normandy Did this sad newes of Becket's murder fly And fill'd his pensive soule with heavinesse For well he judg'de nor proov'd it any lesse 'T would be by all the Christian Princes thought That that foule deede by his command was wrought But more he griev'd that he had rashly spoke Such words before in Choller 's heat as tooke That bad impression in the Knights alas He griev'd to thinke into how sad a â—…ase Those wretched men had plung'd themselues to doe Him service as they thought they durst not now Appeare at all into the North they fledd And there alone their lives in sorrow ledd And all of them if we may trust to fame Within foure yeares to ends untimely came King Lewis of France or for the love he bore To slaughtered Becket show'd so oft before Or else for envy at the high renowne And power of Henry that ecclips'd his owne Since now Religion gave him faire pretence Pursu'd his ends with all the vehemence Of words or prayers to exasperate Pope Alexander 'gainst King Henry's state Beseeching him he would avenge with ali The armes of holy Church th' unworthy fall And cruell murder of so deare a sonne The like had other neighbouring Princes done But Henry full of feares dispatch'd from thence Embassâ—…dours to pleade his innocence Before the Pope and there to testifie What griefe he tooke for Becket's tragaedy Beseeching him he would be pleas'd to send His Legats thither that might heare and end So sad a cause for much he fear'd from Rome An Interdiction 'gainst his Realmes would come But soone the matter could not have an end The fates were pleas'd it should a while depend Vntill successes of a fairer kinde Had given some ease to Henry's grieved minde And Irelands conquest prosperously gain'd Allay'd the sorrow he for this sustain'd His thoughts are wholly bent on Ireland now In person thither he entends to goe And fearing interruptions to prevent What Bulls or mischiefes might from Rome be sent To trouble England ere he leave the Land Of Normandy he layes a straight command On th' officers of evâ—…ry Port to see That no Briefe-carrier without certainty Of his estate entent and businesse Should be permitted thence to crosse the Seas Nor long in England did the King abyde No cause of stay was there but to provide Such force and fit retinew as from thence Might guard him ore in high Magnificence To Irelands conquest like