For my right hand is here to helpe thée now Blush not to sée the raging worlds despite The bloudy are nor scaffolde full of bils My mercy seat shall be thy chiefe delihte And though on earth thine enimies haue their wils I am the God that stormes and tempests stils In quiet calme passe gently thou away And suffer much yet doe but little say Death is the end of all that beareth life Not one shall scape this world is but a dreame The seeds of sinne brings forth but flowres of strife In painted robes lies many a rotten seame It is but griefe to guide and rule a Realme Great charge and care a great accompt must make And when I frown the whole round world I shake I cause one wight to take anothers place To chop off heads to kill to hang and draw And when I take from rulers new my grace His head againe shall yeeld to sword and law Men blowes the cole but I put fire in straw And where doth fall the flame of my great â—e All things consumes to cinders in that fire Come Murton come and play thy pageant well Thou goest before perhaps a yeare or twaine But after thee shall passe to heauen or hell A number more that mercy now remaine World hath no stay I tell â—hee all is vaine Both raigne and rule and regall power most hie When bastards dreame in durt and dust shall lie My God thus sayd with that my sprites reuiude My wits were armde my sence redoubled than And with my flesh the holy Ghost he striude By Angels force but not by might of man A marulous stirre in stomacke then beganne For to subdue the â—arrein corps of care And burthend breast that sinfull body bare Now hope in hast made heauy heart full light The feare was fled that comes by course of law Gods promise wrought through mercy grace and might A noble worke in me cleare conscience saw A fig for death his force not worth a straw Qd. I a rush for worlds reproach and shame For written is in booke of life my name The Preachers then began to wéepe for ioy Your firme beliefe my Lord shall make you frée Qd they and sure your soule is from annoy Both in this world and where swéete Angels be And where right soone you shall Gods glory see Not with bare view but with immortall eies As body shall at latter day arise Then knéeld I downe and to the cloudes I looke The thought and care the while of world was past And I in God such ioy and pleasure tooke That at my héeles all earthly pompe I cast By this the houre of death approached fast The Gard gaue sign with halbards bright in hand I must prepare on Skaffold streight to stand The stréetes were full of souldiers armed well With shot and match and all belongs for warre I saw in house I could no lonâ—er dwell For people said the day was spent full farre Then ope the doore qd I draw backe the barre I will goe hence to better home I trust Here is no hope I see that die I must To comfort sence and strengthen vitall sprete I tasted foed and dranke a draught of wine And pawsde a while as I thought fit and méete But sure no dread of death within mine eine Was seene for God by speciall grace deuine Held vp my heart and head as high to shoe As when from home I did a walking goe Milde words I gaue when bitter spéech I hard So passed through them all with manly chéere And did no more this world nor earth regard Then though in deede I neuer had beene here But when in sight the Skaffold did appeare My minde was bent to fight the battle out And conquere death and banish feare and dout So stept I vp on Skaffold lightly than Where sundry came to aske me many a thing I lookte to God and made small count of man Saue that alowd I saide God blesse the King God giue him grace in peace the state to bring And shunne the harmes and dangers ore his head To finde on earth long life when I am dead Had I serud God aswell in euery sort As I did serue my king and maister still My scope had not this season beene so short Nor world haue â—ad the power to doe me ill But loe I liude against my makers will That feeles my flesh that feeles my soule alas That fault I feare where now my soule shall passe That that good Lord forgiue whilst breath I haue It is the sinne that to this world I brought It buried shall be with my flesh in graue It is a sore and sickenesse of the thought It is most vaine a wretched thing of nought A wicked wound that death doth heale alone Dwels last in flesh and first was bred in bone Pray you for me that sets your sinnes by mine And such as doe professe the faith I hold Marke who I am that here by power diuine Am forst this daie my conscience to vnfolde Looke neerely both to your owne Faults vntolde And pray as well for me with humble minde As for your selues that here I leaue behinde My matter stands before the iudge of all Men haue condemnd my body to the tort When that great iudge will for a reckning call Both you and I shut vp in sentence short Shall soone be known who gaines the best report There accuse ne small nor great this day My part is plaide and I must passe my way The faith this howre that all the Realme doth know I die in here and seale it with my blood To other faith beware bend not your bowe The râ—tten string will breake and doe no good Whilst in this land such trash aâ—d tromprie stood God was not pleasd the King not serude aright And we did walke in darkenes stead of light Good â—earers all my babes and children deere I brought you vp full long in this beliefe Your regent ones now preacheth to you here Chaunge not my barns religion to your griefe Serue first your God next honor King as chiefe This lesson keepe and so good friends adiew The dead from quicke so takes his leaue of you Thus full resolude temptation to resist Great time I stood and talkte in stoutest shoe Of sondry things as freely as I list But waying then that hence the soule must goe And that my necke must bide the blouddy bloe I stretched armes as hie as I could heaue So turnd my backe and did the audience leaue The heauenly hope that heart doth long vphold Did hale me hence and bad dispatch in haste As firme as rocke I stood say what they would For after this I spake no word in waste Then downe I lay and balefull blocke embraste And there receiude the blow as are did fall That cut me cleaue from cares and cumbers all The gasping head as in the Lorde I slept A vision had ye may the fame suppose I dreamde it saw how friende
is but his minde A discourse of the true steps of manhood A discourse of the honor of a Souldior A discours of an olde Souldier and a yong A discourse and commeÌ„dation of those that can make Golde A discourse and rebuke to rebellious mindes A discourse of hospitalitie and consuming of time and wealth in London A discourse of misfortune and calamitie A discourse of law and worthy Lawyers A discourse of the only Phenix of the worlde A praise of that Phenix and verses translated out of French The tragedy of Shores wife much augmented A discourse of the ioy good subiects haue when they see our Phenix abroad The tragicall discourse of the haplesse mans life The adue the writer made long agoe to the worlde A discourse of a fantasticall Dreame A tragicall discourse of a dolorous Gentlewoman A tragicall discourse of a Lord and a Lady translated out of French I hope you look not that I should place euery Knight Lady in their degree for I must of necessitie follow my matter The bookes that I can call to memorie alreadie Printed are these that followes FIrst in King Edwards daies a book named Dauie Dicars dreame which one Camell wrote against whome I openly confuted Shores wise I penned at that season Another booke in those daies called the Mirror of Man In Queene Maries raigne a book called a New-yeares gift to all England which booke treated of rebellion And many things in the booke of songs and Sonets printed then were of my making Since that time till this day I wrote all these workes The booke of Chips dedicated to sir Christopher Hatton after Lord Chancellor The booke called Chance dedicated to sir Thomas Bromley L. Chancellor then The booke called my Charge to my L. of Surrye The booke called my Change in verse and proes dedicated to all good mindes The booke called my Choice dedicated to the L. Chancellor sir Christopher Hatton The book of the siege of Leeth and Edenbrough Castell The booke of sir William Druries seruice dedicated to sir Drue Drury The booke called the golden Nut dedicated to the Qu. Ma. The book of receiuing her highnes into Suffolk Norfolke The booke before of her highnes receiuing into Bristow The booke of the Earthquake to the good Deane of Paules The book of the troubles of Flanders to sir Francis Walsing The book called the scourge of rebels in Ireland to my Lord Admirall The booke called a rebuke to Rebellion to the good olde Earle of Bedford The book of a Sparke of freendship to sir Walter Rawley The book of Sorrows to D. Wilson when he was Secretary The booke of the winning of Macklin to my Lord Norrice The book called the Worthines of Wales to the Qu. Ma. The book giuen her Maiestie at Bristow where I made al the whole deuises The deuises of warre and a play at Awsterley her highnes being at sir Thomas Greshams The Commedy before her Maiestie at Norwich in the fielde when she went to dinner to my Lady Gerningâ—ms The whole deuises pastimes and plaies at Norwich before her maiestie The deuises and speeches that men and boyes shewed within many prograces The book of King Henries Epitaph and other princes and Lords to Secretary Wolley The book of my Deer adue to M. Iohn Stannop The book called a handfull of gladsome verses to the Qu. M. at Wodstocke The book called a pleasant coâ—ceite a new yeeres gift to the Queenes Maiestie These workes following are gotten from me of some such noble freends as I am loath to offend Aeneas tale to Dydo largely and truely translated out of Virgill which I once shewed the Qu. Ma. and had it againe A book of the oath of a Iudge and the honor of Law deliuered to a Stacioner who sent it the L. cheefe Baron that last dyed A book of a sumptuous shew in Shrouetide by sir Walter Rawley sir Robart Carey M. Chidly and M. Arthur Gorge in which book was the whole seruice of my L. of Lester mencioned that he and his traine did in Flaunders and the gentlemen Pencioners proued to be a great peece of honor to the Court all which book was in as good verse as euer I made an honorable knight dwelling in the black Friers can witnes the same because I read it vnto him A great peece of work translated out of the great learned French Poet Seignior Dubartas which worke treated of a Lady and an Eagle most diuinely written on by Dubartas and giuen by me to a great Lord of this land who saith it is lost An infinite number of other Songes and Sonets giuen where they cannot be recouered nor purchase any fauour when they are craued A new kinde of a Sonnet IN writing long and reading works of warre That Homer wrote and Virgils verse did show My muse me led in ouerweening farre When to their Stiles my pen presumde to goe Ouid himselfe durst not haue vaunted so Nor Petrarke graue with Homer would compare Dawnt durst not think his sence so hye did flow As Virgils works that yet much honord are Thus each man sawe his iudgement hye or low And would not striue or seeke to make a iarre Or wrastle where they haue an ouerthrow So I that finde the weakenes of my bow Will shoot no shaft beyond my length I troe For reason learnes and wisdome makes me know Whose strength is best and who doth make or marre A little Lamp may not compare with Starre A feeble head where no great gifts doo grow Yeelds vnto skill whose knowledge makes smal shew Then gentle world I sweetly thee beseech Call Spenser now the spirit of learned speech Churchyards good will THE EARLE OF MVRTONS Tragedie once Regent of Scotland and alwaies of great birth great wisedome great wealth and verie great power and credite yet Fortune enuying his estate and noblenes brought him to lose his head on a Skaffold in Edenbrough the second of Iune 1581. MAke place for plaints giue rowme for plagued men Step backe proud mindes that praise your selues too much Let me appeale to some true writers pen That doth the life and death of Princes touch For my miâ—hap and fatall fall is such That gazing world which heares my woefull end Shall maruaile much to see such matter pend The restles race that mortall men doe runne Seemes smooth to sight yet full of scratting breers Here is no rest nor surety vnder Sunne Sowre is the taste of flowers that sweete appeares Our gentle ioyes are in our tender yeares For as the Childe to wit and reason growes So iudgement comes and seedes of sorrow sowes Our wanton time doth steale away with sport But when that care hath crept in curious braines Long griefe beginnes and pleasure is but short For heart and head is vert with fancies vaine Then hord brings hate and gold breeds greedy gaine Desire of which with pompe and glory great So boiles in brest it makes mans browes to sweat Ambitious minde the busie
Of this rich art that thousands hold full déere Remundus too that long liud héere indéede Wrate sundry workes as well doth yet appeare Of stone for gold and shewed plaine and cleere A stone for health Arnolde wrate of the same And many more that were too long to name But Ryppley may not scape my pen as yet Nor Norâ—ons bookes that are in written hand Two famous clarkes of ripe and ready wit Meere Englishmen borne both with in this land In the records of towre their workes doe stand Let this suffice how ere the matter séemd Among the wise this art was much estéemd Heere follovves the Tragedie of Shores VVife much augmented with diuers newe aditions To the right honorable the Lady Mount Eagle and Compton wife to the right honourable the Lord of Buckhursts son and heire GOod madame for that the vertuous and good Ladie Carie your sister honourablie accepted a discourse of my penning I beleeued your Ladiship would not refuse the like offer humbly presented and dutifully ment I bethoght mee of a Tragedie that long laye printed and many speake well of but some doubting the shallownesse of my heade or of meere mallice disdaineth my doeings denies mee the fathering of such a worke that hath won so much credit but as sure as god liues they that so defames me or doth disable me in this cause doth me such an open wrong as I would be glad to right with the best blood in my body so he be mine equall that moued such a quarrell but mine old yeares doth vtterly forbid me such a combat and to contend with the malicious I thinke it a madnesse yet I protest before God and the world the penning of Shores wife was mine desiring in my hart that all the plagues in the worlde maie possesse me if anie holpe me either with scrowle or councell to the publishing of the inuencion of the same Shores wife and to show that yet my spirits faile me not in as great matters as that I haue augmented her Tragedie I hope in as fine a forme as the first impression thereof and hath sette forth some more Tragedies and Tragicall discourses no whit inferiour as I trust to my first worke and good Madame because Rosimond is so excellently sette forth the actor whereof I honour I haue somewhat beautified my Shores wife not in any kind of emulation but to make the world knowe my deuice in age is as ripe reddie as my disposition and knowledge was in youth so hauing chosen a noble personage to be a patrones to support poore Shores wifes Tragedie againe I commend all the verses of her olde and newe to your good Ladiships iudgement hoping you shall lose no honour â—n the supportation of the same because the true writer thereof with all humblenesse of mind and seruice presents the Tragedie vnto your honourable censure wishing long life and encrease of vertues fame to make your Ladiships daies happie T. Churchyard Heere followes the Tragedie of Shores wife much augmented with diuers new aditions AMong the rest by fortune ouerthrowne I am not least that most may waile her fate My fame and brute abroade the world is blowne Who can forget a thing thus done so late My great mischance my fall and heauy state Is such a marke whereat each tongue doth shoote That my good name is pluckt vp by the roote This wandring world bewitched me with wiles And won my wits with wanton sugred ioyes In Fortunes freakes who trusts her when she smiles Shall find her false and full of fickle toyes Her triumphs all but fills our eares with noyse Her flattering giftes are pleasures mixt with paine Yea and all her words are thunders threatning raine The fond desire that we in glorie set Doth thirle our hearts to hope in slipper hap A blast of pompe is all the fruitâ— we get And vnder that lies hid a sodaine clap In féeking rest vnwares we fall in trap In groping flowres with nettels stung we are In labring â—ong we reape the crop of care Oh darke deceite with painted face for sho Oh poysned baite that makes vs eager still Oh fained friend deceiuing people so Oh world of thée we cannot speake too ill Yet fooles we are that bend so to thy skill The plague and scourge that thousands daily féele Should warne the wyse to shun thy whirling whéele But who can stop the streame that runnes full swift Or quench the fire that crept is in the straw The thirsty drinkes there is no other shift Perforce is such that néede obayes no lawe Thus bounde we are in worldly yokes to drawe And cannot stay nor turne againe in time Nor learne of those that sought too high to clime My selfe for proofe loe here I nowe appeare In womans weede with wéeping watred eyes That bought her youth and her delights full deare Whose lewd reproch doth sound vnto the skies And bids my corse out of the ground to rise As one that may no longer hide her face But néedes must come and shewe her piteous case The shéete of shame wherein I shrowded was Did moue me oft to plaine before this day And in mine eares did ring the trompe of brasse Which is defame that doth each thing bewray Yea though full dead and lowe in earth I lay I heard the voyce of mee what people saide But then to speake alas I was affraide And nowe a time for me I sée preparde I heare the liâ—es and falls of many wights My tale therefore the better may be heard For at the torch the little candle lights Where Pageants be smale things fill out the sights Wherefore giue eare good Churchyard doe thy best My Tragedy to place among the rest Because the truth shall witnes well with thée I will rehearse in order as it fell My life my death my dolefull destene My wealth my woe my doing euery deale My bitter blisse wherein I long did dwell A whole discourse by me Shores wife by name Now shalt thou heare as thou hadst séene the same Of noble blood I cannot boast my byrth For I was made out of the meanest moulde Mine heritage but seuen foote of th'earth Fortune ne gaue to me the gifts of gold But I could brag of nature if I would Who fild my face with fauour fresh and faire Whose beautie shon like Phoebus in the ayre My beautie blasd like torch or twinckling starre A liuely lamp that lends darke world some light Faire Phoebus beames scarse reacheth halfe so farre As did the rayes of my rare beautie bright As summers day exceedes blacke winters night So Shores wiues face made foule Browneta blush As pearle staynes pitch or gold surmounts a rush The Damaske rose or Rosamond the faire That Henry held as déere as Iewells be Who was kept close in cage from open ayre For beauties boast could scarse compare with me The kindly buds and blosomes of braue trée With white and red had deckt my chéekes so fine There stoode two balles like
with toyes and trifles light Thy prisoner was I borne to bée and Adams children all Like Captiues here condemnde to die must suffer for his fall But now the chaines and lothsome lincks that lay on shoulders weake And all the bandes and clogges of care in shiuers small shall breake And I from cage shall mount the skyes more swift then bird with wing And flickar like a simple doue where shining Angels sing I bring a badge and liuery both that my good mayster CHRIST Did leaue for such as beares his crosse through fogges of wordly miest Yea shaking off this sinfull Soyle mée thinke in clowdes I sée Among the pâ—rfit chosen Lambes a place preparde for mée Héere is no home nor harbring house but Cabbens built on sand That euery pirrie puffeth downe or still on proppeâ— doe stand Our Fathers spreets possesse in peace the Countrey that wee craue Wee are but straungers farre from home that nothing certaine haue These were her wordes and many moe which followes as shée spoke I did quoth shée by brittle life O Lord thy wrath prouoke For which I now repent mee sore and trusting to receaue Free pardon for my former faultes eare soule shall bodie leaue My faint and feeble vessell fraile so feares thy iustice great That it appeales from curse of Lawe vnto thy mercy seate I am but wormes meat well I wot all flesh is nought but grasse To earth and ashes out of hand must all my pleasures passe I want the force thou hast the might to striue with Death and Hell Thou art the Rocke the corner Stone the fountaine and the Well From whom the springes of life must run and vnto whom againe The thirstie soules and hungrie heartes for helpe doe trudge amaine Who hath beene washed in thy blood is whiter than the snow O let the streames and floud of grace with fauour on mee flowe In booke of life let write good Lord my name among the rest That ordaynde were eare world was made to sleepe in Abrams brest Blot out the blemish of my brow that at the latter daye May strike the conscience with dispaire and cloaked crimes bewraie Giue boldnesse to the bashfull sprite that feares from hence to flitte Make hope and fayth now flâ—me to sée great God in glorie sitte Wiâ—h closed hand than brest shee knockt so gaue a sigh and stayd And then conceiude some inward ioy with cheerfull face shee sayd Do mourne no more O trembling soule that knowes not where to staye Come from the kaytiffe carraine corpes and cabben â—ade of clays And looke vppon the Lambe of God whose death thy raunsome payde That blessed babe the virgins Sonne that borne was of a maide Come silly bud out of the Den where naught but darknesse is And looke on euerlasting light and louing Lord of blisse The lusts of flesh and worldly pompe I hope are quentch in méeâ— Through fayth alone from sinne and boâ—d I haue escaped frée And with that word in signe of ioy a Psalme full loud shee sang The solempne noyse and sound thereof thorowout the chamber rang And ending that to prayer straight of her owne mind shee fell The standers by whose teares burst out at this her last farewell Beganne to giue her comfort than of life and welfare both Yea liue I shall and doe right well quoth shee I know for troth But that is in another world the hope of this is gone And reason is it should bée so for heere there liueth none But sées the vainesse of our state and tastes such torments still That sundrie times they wish themselues from hence with right good will Héere is but toyle and sweate of browes and endlesse labour â—ound And nothing reapt but wretched wracke and broken sleepes vnsound Where I shall goe I cease from payne and so such ioy possesse As hart scarse thinkes nor head conceiues nor tongue may well expresse Then hold your peace knit vp your talke and trouble not the spréete That drawes from hence and hopes it is for better place more méete A Ladie thoe that vertue likte and there some credit had â—eplyde and sayd O noble dame indeed you are too sad These panges shal passe these â—â—ts shall fade and all these passions die As they haue done when you full oft in such like sort did lye O Madame speake no more of that my time draws 〈◊〉 quoth shée I shall not die but make exchaunge of breath and life I sée The glasse is run the Clocke will strike death doth approche apace My course is done the Iudge draws néere to sit vppon my case No longer héere I may abide the packing day is come Death bids me now vnarme my selfe and heare the mortall Drâ—â— That cals me hence as naked sure as to the world I cam The course of Nature shewes me too that Earth and Dust I am The Harrolde of long home is sent to summon mée in hast Then stay me not for in that poynt both teares and wordes yée wast Yet eare I part good friendes quoth shée behold what hope I haue And note what fayth and badge of Christ I carrie to my graue And marke how I confesse with mouth that Christ hath shed his blood For me and those that earst in state of deepe damnation stood And by his passion I am saued and not by my desarts But by the helpe of him that knowes the thoughts of secret hearts Now staying héere shée lookt about and to a Knight shee spake And him desired with humble wordes that he the paines would take To show the Prince what past her mouth O tell him sir quoth shée This is the sute and last request that must be made by mée Unto his highnesse whose estate our blessed Lord maintaine And pray him to forgiue me now for I confesse it playne I made a fault and sore offence when I against his will Estrangde my selfe from his good grace for any hope or skill But from my breath vnto this day my heart and thought was cléere From breach of subiects dutie sure and I protest it héere I neuer ment nor purposed yet in word in deed nor thought No harme nor lodgde one il conseit nor sparke of euill sought To him as God may witnesse beare to that which now I speake Saue now alas by ouersight of feeble fancies weakâ— I féele and finde the price thereof and suffer for the same An open checke and priuie plaguâ— and pinching publik blame I hope his highnesse hath forgot the fault I did commit And as he is a noble Prince in Regall throne to sit And iudge his subiects causes all so hope I of his grace Hée will receiue my children poore and helpe their heauy case O God forbid for Mothers fault the Children should abye No graine of grudge nor ground of guilâ— in guiltlesse babes doe lyâ— I doe bequeath them now quoth shée vnto the Princes handes In hope the fauour that they finde shall ease the fathers handes My nature shows a