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A20853 The tragicall legend of Robert, Duke of Normandy, surnamed Short-thigh, eldest sonne to William Conqueror. VVith the legend of Matilda the chast, daughter to the Lord Robert Fitzwater, poysoned by King Iohn. And the legend of Piers Gaueston, the great Earle of Cornwall: and mighty fauorite of king Edward the second. By Michaell Drayton. The latter two, by him newly corrected and augmented Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631.; Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631. Matilda.; Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631. Peirs Gaveston Earle of Cornwall. 1596 (1596) STC 7232; ESTC S116748 75,207 228

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blind or wink and will not see Or doe you sport at my calamitie 87 O happy climat what so ere thou be Cheerd with those sunnes the fair'st that euer shon Which hast those Starrs which guide my destenie The brightest Lamps in all the Horizon O happy eyes that see what most I lack The pride and beautie of the Zodiack 88 O blessed Fountaine source of all delight O sacred spark that kindlest Vertues fier The perfect obiect of the purest sight The superficies of true loues desire The very tuchstone of all sweet conceite On whom all graces euer-more awaite 89 Thus whilst his youth in all these storms was tost And whilst his ioyes lay speechlesse in a trance His sweet content with such vnkindnes crost And lowring Fortune seem'd to looke a skance Too weake to swim against the streamfull time Fore-told their fall w c now sought most to clime 90 Camelion-like the world thus turnes her hue And like to Proteus puts on sundry shapes One hastes to clime another doth ensue One falls another for promotion gapes Flockmell they swarme like flies about the brim Some drown whilst others w t great danger swim 91 And some on whom the Sunne shone passing faire Yet of their Sommer nothing seeme to vaunt They sawe their fall presaged by the ayre If once this Planet were predominant Thus in their gate they flew with wings of feare And still with care doe purchase honor deare 92 Thus restlesse Time that neuer turnes againe VVhose winged secte are slyding with the Sunne Brings Fortune in to act another Scene By whom the Plot already is begunne The argument of this black tragedie Is vertues fall to raise vp infamie 93 The brute is blowne the King doth now pretend A long-look'd voyage to the Holy-land For which his Subiects mighty sums doe lend And whilst the thing is hotly thus in hand Blind Fortune turnes about her fickle wheele And breaks y e prop which maks y e building reele 94 I feare to speake yet speake I must perforce My words be turn'd to teares euen as I write Mine eyes doe yet behold his dying course And on his Hearse me thinks I still indite My paper is hard sable Ebon wood My pen of Iron and my Inke is blood 95 Loe here the time drew on of Edwards death Loe here the dolefull period of his yeares O now he yeeldeth vp that sacred breath For whom the Heauens do shower down floods of teares For whom the Sun euen mourning hides his face For whom the earth was all too vile and base 96 May I report his dolefull obsequie VVhen as my Ghost doth tremble at his name Faine would I vvrite but as I vvrite I die My ioynts apald vvith feare my hand is lame I leaue it to some sacred Muse to tell Vpon whose life a Poets pen might dwell 97 No sooner was his body vvrapt in lead And that his mournfull Funerals vvere done But that the Crowne vvas set on Edwards head Sing I-o now my Ghost the storme is gone The wind blows right loe yonder breaks my day Caroll my Muse and now sing care away 98 Carnaruan now calls home vvithin a vvhile Whom vvorthy Long-shanks hated to the death Whom Edward swore should dye in his exile He vvas as deere to Edward as his breath This Edward lou'd that Edward loued not Kings wils perform'd dead mens words forgot 99 Now waft me wind vnto the blessed Ile Rock me my ioyes loue sing me with delight Now sleepe my thoughts cease sorrow for a while Now end my care come day farwell my night Sweet sences now act euery one his part Loe here the balme that hath recur'd my hart 100 Loe now my Ioue in his ascendant is In the Aestiuall solstice of his glorie Now all the Stars prognosticate my blis And in the Heauen all eyes may read my storie My Comet now worlds wonder thus appeares Foretelling troubles of ensuing yeares 101 Now am I mounted with Fames golden wings And in the tropick of my fortunes height My flood maintayned with a thousand springs Now on my back supporting Atlas weight All tongues and pens attending on my prayse Surnamed now the wonder of our dayes 102 VVho euer sawe the kindest Romaine dame VVith extreame ioy yeeld vp her latest breath VVhen from the wars her Sonne triumphing came And stately Rome had mourned for his death Her passion here might haue exprest a right VVhen once I came into the Princes sight 103 VVho euer had his Lady in his arms Which hath of loue but felt the miserie Touching the fire that all his sences warms Now clips with ioy her blushing Iuorie Feeling his soule in such delights to melt Ther's none but he can tell the ioyes we felt 104 Like as when Phoebus darting forth his rayes Glydeth along the swelling Ocean streams And whilst one billow with another playes Reflecteth back his bright translucent beams Such was the conflict then betwixt our eyes Sending forth looks as tears doe fall and rise 105 It seem'd the ayre deuisd to please my sight The whistling wind makes musick to my tale All things on earth doe feast me with delight The world to me sets all her wealth to sale VVho now rules all in Court but I alone VVho highly grac'd but onely Gaueston 106 Now like to Mydas all I touch is gold The clowds doe showre downe gold into my lap If I but winck the mightiest are controld Plac'd on the turret of my highest hap My Cofers now euen like to Oceans are To whom all floods by course doe still repare 107 With bountie now he franckly seales his loue And to my hands yeelds vp the Ile of Man By such a gift his kingly mind to proue Thys was the earnest where-with he began Then Wallingford Queene Elnors stately bower With many a towne and many a goodly tower 108 And all those summs his Father had prepard By way of taxes for the Holy-land He gaue me franckly as my due reward In bountie thus it seem'd he pleasd his hand Which made the world to wonder euery howre To see me drowned in this golden showre 109 Determin'd now to hoyse my saile amaine The Earle of Cornwall he created me Of England then the Lord high Chamberlaine Cheese Secretarie to his Maiestie VVhat I deuisd his treasure euer wrought His bountie still so answered to my thought 110 Yet more to spice my ioyes with sweet delight bound by his loue apprentice to my pleasure VVhose eyes still leueld how to please my sight VVhose kindnes euer so exceeded measure Deuisd to quench my thirst with such a drink As from my quill drops Nectar to my inck 111 O sacred Bountie mother of Content Prop of renowne the nourisher of Arts The Crowne of hope the roote of good euent The trump of Fame the ioy of noble harts Grace of the heauens diuinitie in nature Whose excellence doth so adorne the creature 112 Hee giues his Neece is marriage vnto me Of royall blood for beautie
soonest pry Whose nature thus I chose to be the mould Therein to worke what forme of hap I would 98 His owne compassion cause of his owne care Vpon his thought his constant promise stood Vertue in him most naturally rare No vile base humor tainted his pure blood His bounty still gaue good desert her food His mind so great and honorably free Made him too prone to loose credulitie 99 His counsels thus are combred by his care In nothing certaine bnt vncertaintie His friends resolu'd on nothing but dispaire Yet shewes he greatnes in most misery Each place become a stage for Tragedy By error wandring far beyond his scope Strong in desire but weakest in his hope 100 In publique shame oft counsell seemes disgrac'd No priuiledge can from the Fates protect In desperation counsell hath no taste Vntamed rage doth all aduise reiect Hiding the course which reason should direct Making himselfe the author of his harms VVithout experience valor wants his arms 101 Now I whose power in Williams wars was seene VVhen first on Williams conquest he begun To shew my selfe the worlds imperious Queene Now turne my selfe against his warlike son To lose by me by me his Father won On Englands part gainst Normandy to stand Which Normandy had conquered by my hand 102 The conquest William made vpon this Ile VVith Norman blood be-peopling Brittany Euen now as Brittons made within a while Turne with reuenge to conquer Normandy Thus victory goes back to victory That his own blood wins what before he won His conquering son subdu'd his conquering son 103 Thus Norman townes begirt with English arms The furious brother dealing wrathfull blowes Both pressing in where deadly perrill swarms These English-Norman Norman-English foes At last doe get what they at first did lose As Normandy did Englands fall prouoke Now Norman necks must beare the English yoke 104 The flood of mischiefe thus comes in againe VVhat Fortune works not alwaies seems pretéded The wind thus turn'd blows back the fire amaine VVhere first mischance began she will be ended And he defend him from those he offended For this we find the course of fatall things Is best discern'd in states of Realms Kings 105 On whom of late in Palaestine I smild In ciuill warrs now dreadfully I frowne He call'd from exile I from him exil'd To leaue his crowne who had refus'd a crowne Who beat all down now heare is beaten down Here to lose all who there had gotten all To make his fall more grieuous in his fall 106 To England now a prisoner they him bring Now is he hers which claim'd her for his owne A Captiue where he should haue been a King His dūgeon made wher shold haue been his throne Now buried there wheras he shold haue growne In one poore tower mew'd vp within one place Whose Empires bounds the Ocean shold embrace 107 Could mortall sence containe immortall hate Or reason sound the depth of things diuine Iudgement might stand amaz'd at Roberts state And thinke no might to be compar'd with mine That all power may vnto my power resigne And that in Roberts fall the world may see Amongst the starrs what power remaines in mee 108 That sword which on his fortune hath such power Yet powerles is to end his wretched dayes Those daies w c in their course all things deuoure To his swift griefe makes slow and lazie staies To Tyrannies long raigne he thus obaies That he in life a thousand deaths might die Onely in mercy rackt with crueltie 109 He hath no ioy but in his miseries His greatest comfort is the blessed light For which as I were angry with his eyes I make the King depriue him of his sight To sute his daies so iustly with the night That sencles stones to mone he should not see Yet sencles stones behold his misery 120 And this he felt that Fortune made him blinde Least his eyes obiects yet might lighten care That y e light wanting more might light his minde VVhose eyes might see how great his sorrows are That euery sence that sences woe might share And so that sence depriu'd of ioy alone Might more increase the griefe of euery one 111 These griefes and horrors enemies of rest VVhich murther life where they do harbor long Kill humors which his body oft opprest Vnnaturally thus making nature strong As out of deaths dead stock new life still sprong As life with death had tempted him till now Yet death to life no ease would er'e allow 112 Death he fear'd not is taught his end to feare Life once he lou'd with him now fall'n in loue That foe a friend to hurt him doth forbeare That friend a foe he cannot now remoue Twixt them he all extremities doth proue Aged in youth to pine his ioy thereby Youthfull in age to suffer misery 113 Courage forbids that he himselfe should kill His life too proud to be constrain'd to die His will permits not death now when he will VVhat would dispaire true valor doth deny Thus life's life foe death is deaths enemy VVilling to die by life him double killing Vrging to die twice dying he vnwilling 114 So many yeeres as he hath worne a crowne So many yeeres as he hath hop'd to rise So many yeeres he liues thus quite thrown downe So many yeeres he liues without his eyes So many yeeres in dying ere hee dyes So many yeeres lockt vp in prison strong Though sorrow make the shortest time seeme long 115 Thus sway I in the course of earthly things That Time might worke him euerlasting spite To shew that power yet euer makes not kings Nor that conceit can compasse my deceit In fined things such meruails infinite Nor any wonder is to be supposed In that wherein all wonders are inclosed 116 AT Fortuns speech they stand as all amaz'd Whilst Fame herselfe doth wonder at his woe And all vpon this deadly Image gaz'd VVhose misery shee had discribed so But in reuenge of this dispightfull foe Fame from a slumber as it seem'd awake On his behalfe thus for herselfe be-spake 117 What time I came frō world-renowned Rome To waken Europe from her drouzie traunce Summoning the Princes of great Christendome To Palaestine their Ensignes to aduaunce Soūding my trump in England Spaine Fraunce To moue the Christians to religious war Frō Pagans hands to free CHRISTS sepulchar 118 That holy Hermit Peter then as one VVhich as a Saint bewaild so great a losse With Bulloigne Godfrey Christs strong champion Vnder the Banner of the bloody CROSSE Now on the Alps the conquering collours tosse Leading along the brauest Christian band To reare their Tropheys in the HOLY LAND 119 Hether the flocks of gallant spirits do throng The place whence immortalitie doth spring To whom the hope of conquest doth belong Nor any thought lesse then to be a King Hether doth Fame her deerest children bring And in this Camp shee makes her treasury The rarest Iems of Europs Chiualry 120 This conquering lord
time Drouping with faintnes hold their heads aside The boistrous storms dispoile y e greenest greues Stripping the Trees staik naked of their leaues 296 Death cald in liueries of my louely cheeks Layd in those beds of Lillies and of Roses Amaz'd with meruaile here for wonders seeks VVere he alone a Paradice supposes Grew male content and with himselfe at strife Not knowing now if he were death or life 297 And shutting vp the casements of those lights Which like two suns so sweetly went to rest In those faire Globes he saw those heauenly sights In which alone he thought him onely blest Cursing himselfe who had depriued breath From that which thus could giue a life in death 298 VVith palenes touching that faire rubied lip Now waxing purple like Adonis flower Where Iuory walls those rocks of Currall keep From whence did slow y t Nectar streaming shower There earth-pale Death refresht his tyred lims Where Cupid bath'd him in those Christall brims 299 And entring now into that house of glory That Temple with sweet Odors long perfumed VVhere Nature had ingraued many a story In Letters which by death were not consumed Accursed now his crueltie he curst That Fame should liue when death had done his worst 300 Now when the King had notice of my death And that he saw his purpose thus preuented In greeuous sighes he now consumes his breath And into teares his very eyes relented Cursing that vile and mercy-wanting age And breakes into this passion in his rage 301 O heauens quoth he lock vp the liuing day Cease Sunne to lend the world thy glorious light Starres flye your course and wander all astray Moone lend no more thy siluer shine by night Heauen Stars Sun Moone cōioyne you al in one Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston 302 Earth be thou helplesse in thy creatures birth Sea breake thou sorth from thy immured bound Ayre with thy vapours poyson thou the earth Wind break thy Caue all the world confound Earth Sea Ayre Wind conioyne you all in one Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston 303 You Sauage beasts which haunt y e waylesse woods You Birds delighted in your Siluan sound You scaly Fish which swim in pleasant floods You hartlesse Wormes which creep vpon y u ground Beasts birds fish worms each in your kind alone Bewaile the death of my sweet Gaueston 304 Faire Medowes be you withered in the prime Sun-burnt and bare be all the goodly Mountains Groues be you leauelesse in the Sommer time Pitchy and black be all the Christall Fountains All things on earth each in your kind alone Bewaile the death of my sweet Gaueston 305 You damned Furies breake your Stigian Cell You wandring spirits in water earth and ayre Lead boyled Ghosts which liue in lowest hell Gods deuils men vnto mine ayde repayre Come all at once conioyne you all in one Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston 306 Eyes neuer sleepe vntill you see reuenge Head neuer rest vntill thou plot reuenge Hart neuer think but tending to reuenge Hands neuer act but acting deepe reuenge Iust-dooming heauens reuenge me from aboue That men vnborne may wonder at my Loue. 307 You peerlesse Poets of ensuing times Chaunting Herioque Angell-tuned Notes Or humble Pastors Nectar-filled lines Driuing your flocks with musick to their Cotes Let your high-flying Muses still bemone The wofull end of my sweet Gaueston 308 My earth-pale body now enbalmd with tears To famous Oxford solemnly conuaid There buried by the ceremonious Friers Where for my soule was many a Trentall said With all those rites my obsequies behoued Whose blind deuotion time truth reproued 309 But ere two yeeres were out and fully dated This gracious King who still my fame respected My wasted bones to Langley thence translated And ouer me a stately Tombe erected VVhich world-deuouring Time hath now out-worne As but for Letters were my name forlorne FINIS The vision of Matilda ME thought I saw vpon Matildas Tombe Her wofull ghost which Fame did now awake And cr●●●'d her passage frō Earths hollow wombe To view this Legend written for her sake No sooner shee her sacred Name had seene Whom her kind friend had chose to grace her story But wiping her chast teares from her sad eyne Shee seem'd to tryumph in her double glory Glory shee might that his admired Muse Had with such method fram'd her iust complaint But proud she was that reason made him chuse To patronize the same to such a Saint In whom her rarest vertues may be shown Though Poets skil shold faile to make thē known H. G. Esquire TEares in your eyes and passions in your harts With mournfull grace vouchsafe Matildas story The subiect sad a King to act the parts Of his owne shame to others endlesse glory But such is sinne where lawlesse lust is raigning Sweet to the tast till all turnes to infection VVhen count is cast a reckoning is remayning VVhich must be payd but not at our election Perrill and Greefe the interest of Pleasure Spending the stock that Danger long was gayning Makes soule and body banckrupt of that treasure Which vainly spent what helps our fond cōplaining O that my lines could so the Author grace As well his vertues merit prayse and place R. L. Esquire To M. Drayton MIchaell which dost great Roberts fame compile Thy subiects worth thy wit thy Ladies glory Cheere vp thy Muse add lyfe vnto thy stile VVhile thou assaist to write his worthy story Whose boundlesse spirit whose high chiualrie And vertuous deeds must needs haue buried beene By ages enuie and times tirannie And neuer had with mortall eyes been seene Had not thy Muse restor'd his former fame The twise dead Norman to his speaking sight Euen when his eyes had lost their shyning flame Like vnto Lamps that wanting oyle want light By thee he sees he liues he speaks againe Thē chere thee Michaell Fame rewards thy paine Mirocinius