gallants gaie Fie on that braule that breeds so greate a fraie Fie on that warre that bryngs riche people bare And foule befaule the birds that files their neaste Reuolte bryngs realms and mightie kyngs in care And roots vp peace and plants discord in breaste Though wilfull heads in haste reuenge will take And for some shreaude deuise drawes out the blade Beware through heate how ciuill warre you make It wounds the state and marrs all honest trade It rotts sound harts and spoils eche common weale A curelesse sore that no sweete salue can heale The sowre mischaunce that Fraunce hath self thereby And slaught ers greate whiche lasted many a yere Dooth stande so freshe and full before your eye That worlde maie see men bought that warre ful dere The flood of strife did run so through the realme Some dreggs must needs be left behinde the streame In whiche deepe drosse maie lye more harme then good God shield eche lande that loues and fears the Lorde From suche abuse and thirstyng after blood And plant therein sweete peace and milde accorde From whiche pure tree there springs a precious balme That keeps of storms and bryngs a quiet calme FINIS THE MISFORTVNE of Portugalle AS Fraunce did smarte through rage of ciuill warre And Flaunders is not free from suche like foile So other soils by meane of wicked iarre When least is thought are offred to the spoile Whose wretched ruen the wise doeth daiely rewe To make the fonde reforme their life a newe But where was peace and loue long linked faste And people waxt bothe riche and stoute of minde If their mishappe and mischeef come at laste What harte in breast or man is so vnkinde That will not waile the woe of suche a lande Who God alone hath toucht with mightie hande In Portugall befell a dolfull cace The straungest chaunce that hath bin heard of late There was a kyng who had greate gifts of grace A Princely sparke of goodly porte and state And as his shape was semely to the sight So loe within his minde was shapte a right For forme of face and other outwarde shoes Were aunswered full with greatnesse of the harte And in that Prince as now report there goes Of speciall points was many a noble parte Among the reste was one full muche to note He sought no will nor would of women dote Desirde renowne and yet despisde delite And loathed luste yet loude a merrie meane To pastyme bent yet banisht pleasure quite And glad to leade a life moste pure and cleane And alwaies ment to doe some mightie deede Against the Turkes suche noble mynde he bore That of the like a man maie hardly reede And in our daies was seldome seen before Well what auails to blase his vertues more His minde was suche he would not idle sitte He helde good fame more worth then heaps of gold And to maintaine his courage and his witte Against the Mores a powre prepare he would So with his freends and suche as wishte hym well He shippyng tooke and spread the seas with sails But now I haue a wofull tale to tell And now in deede my muse bothe weeps and wails And I my self of right ought be full sadd To shewe at large what ill successe he had Bothe he and his full safly sette on shore On enemies ground and rangyng where thei would His foes hym mette and fought with hym so sore Whose strength and force were stronger treble fold That he was slaine and all his people loste And fewe of them retourned home againe Suche was their fate that sought that curssed coste To make vs muse that doeth a liue remaine And make vs knowe by this greate foughten feeld There is no life but must to Fortune yeeld For at one tyme three kynges made there their ende But none of them maie christen men lament Saue this good kyng to whom the Lorde did sende A sodaine fall to our greate discontent Yea waie the losse and worthe of christen bloode An let the case be throughly vnderstoode There was not suche a losse these hundreth yeers Be iudge thereof that knowes what Princes are And of the state and rule of kyngdoms heer 's And Portugall thou lucklesse lande of care Be thou the iudge if I speake trothe or noe Looke how thou wilte thou canst not hide thy woe In mournyng blacke let all thy people goe Proclaime a fast and stretehe your hands on hie And in the streats for sorrowe houle and crie For since thy kyng is taken from thee thus That was before sent thee to thy greate ioye There is behinde a sorer plague yewus If carelesse heads of earnest make a toye Could more mishappe to any soile befall Then lose the Lampe that gaue the countrey light And in the darke can finde no torche at all Nor candell clere to walke in Winters night Could Fortune woorke to men a worse despite Then take a waie their hope and comfort quite Could people lose a Pearle of greater price Then suche a Gem as worlde conscarcly showe Could Heathen men wishe any worse deuice To vs then giue so greate an ouerthrowe I feare the baebs that learns their Christs crosse row Will quaile for this when we are in our graue The losse is yet like fruite that is but greene On goodlie trees that blasted is with winde But when the want of apples shal be scene With more regarde the matter shall we minde Leaue that to hym that gius and taks awaie Who can at length his secrte will bewraie Now sheepe from fold maie ron and meete the wolfe Now gide is gone the flocke to ruen must fall Now greef paste cure comes in through gushyng golfe Now Prince is dead adue poore Portugall Thy date is doen excepte for deastnie straunge God sende some chaunce to counterpaise the chaunge In Skies of late was seen a blasyng Starre A Comete bright that threatâ—â—â— plags at hande Whiche did presage perhapps this bloodie warre And Plags that are a brotche in many a lande God is displeasd and sure his wrathe is greate When Turcks doe scorge and plage the chrsten kings This angrie signe and fearfull sodaine heate Maks wisemen waie the weight of further things Where mightie trees are rent with thunder cracke With tremblyng feare the people homeward ronne The tempests rage that bryngeth ruen and wracke Where daunger is eche liuyng thyng will shonne So suche as see where plague or warrs encreace Will seeke for healthe and praie to liue in peace FINIS THE VNQVIETNES of Irelande TO treate of Irelands toile and tell the troubles now and paint you out in prose or vers the countries sorowe thorowe Would sure containe more tyme and carnest matter bothe ThaÌ„ easly meÌ„ would spare to speÌ„d or worlde would thinke a trothe For there these many yeres hath strief in state been storde And seldome in the quiet sheath can reste the trenchyng sworde The soldiours that are sent to keepe the lande in awe Are faine to marche through
weare The sonne hymself the father would begile And brother still of brother stoode in feare With poison foule and murther euery wheare The countrey through was spred and plaged sore And for to make the scourge and mischeef more One frende by crafte the other would betraie And suretie none in Princes pallaice stoode The house of God where people ought to praie And aulter stone was daiely stainde with blood The streats was filde with corses vilie slaine And in the streame and floud the babes were flong And Ladies throats with kniues were cutte in twaine There was no hope when larumbell was rong Bothe wiues with childe and little children yong Were stabbed in with Daggers diuers waies Some from their bedds were floung amid the streete Suche murthers Lorde were in those bloodie daies As women laie without a cloute or sheete All deade and bare a rufull sight to see In open plaine yea men of auncient yeers Were mangled sore and some of high degree And noble race and of the Deuze Peers Were naked lefte and wounded to the death And goodlie girlls laie groulyng voide of breath In market place the furie was so greate The rage was suche that none might scape the sworde Nor nothyng could ne coole nor quenche the heate Of Ciuill warre that bothe at bedde and borde Was bloodie still and yet the more was slaine The more the broile and greef began againe To tell you all their battailes here a rowe Would moue your minde and heauie harte to tears At sondrie tymes their owne reporte doeth showe And good recorde thereof true witnesse bears Thei lost in feeld twoo hundreth thousande men Yet still their mindes on murther ran so faste Thei went about nothyng but bloodshed then To sight it out as long as life might laste Reuenge did woorke and weaue an endlesse webbe Desire of will a wofull threede did spinne The floode of hate that neuer thinks of ebbe A swellyng Sea of strife brought gushyng in The rooted wrathe had spred suche braunches out That leaues of loue were blasted on the bowe Yet spitfull twiggs began so faste to sprout That from the harte the tree was rotten throwe No kindly sappe did comforte any spraie Bothe barke and stocke and bodie did decaie So that it seemde the soile infected was With malice moods that smells of mischeef greate Their golden lande was tournde to rustie Bras And eche thyng wrought as God had curst the seate The grouÌ„d thought scorne to bryng forth frute in tune The Uines did rotte the blade would beare no corne Like Winter foule became the Sommers Prime The pleasant plotts brought forth wilde brier thorn With Raine and storme the lande was vexed still The ire of God the people could not shunne Greate grewe the greef that came by headstrong will And all these plagues by proude conceite begonne That thought to rule perhapps past reasons lore Treate that who please my muse not framde therefore Of warrs and woe I meane my penne to straine â–ª In breef discourse for Wisedomes vieu alone I skippe ouer doubts I dare not be to plaine Least fire flie out from flinte and stricken stone Those broills abroche the realme ran all to ruen The heads waxte sicke the members were amis The notes were nought the song was out of tune And badde is best where suche rude Musick is Blood was so sought that Butcherie boare the swaie A man and beast were waied bothe a like The Shepe must dye the Wolfe would haue his praie The riche would rule the poore must passe the pike The house must burne that could not make defence The head must of that had more witte then needs The fullest baggs were searched for their pence The vains were sought that moste the humour feeds The good might starue the badde found all the grace The wise might walke abroade and tell the trees The faunyng fooles were moste prefarde in place The waspes would sucke the honie from the Bees And to be plaine abuse in all degrees Bred nought but warre and nourisht suche debate That all to torne did lye that noble state And when one race or noble house did rise With force of armes to make reuolte or stoer Tenne thousande flockt as thicke as starrs in skies About the streats before the Princes doore No woords might serue nor reason could preuaile The people waxte as wilde as chafed Deere Yea though thei heard their wiues bothe wepe waile Their children crie their frends make mournyng chere To bloodie fight in furie fell thei all And though on heaps dead coarses laie in vieu The people made accounte thereof but small For battaile did but malice still renue A greate mans death coste many small mens liues A small offence did make a greate adoo When men forget their children and their wiues And madlie faulls to hate their countrey too A little sparke will make a marueilous fire And then bothe Prince and Lawe is out of minde Good rule is drounde and children doo conspire Their fathers deaths and kinsmen out of kinde Doo turne and change as weather Cocke with winde O Fraunce who lookes vpon thy bloodie waies And notes but halfe the pageant thou hast plaied Will be therefore the wiser all their daies Or at the least will howrely bee afraied To plaie suche pranks as thou poore France hast doon Thou hadst a tyme and wretched race to run For others weale that can good warâ—yng take Thy neighbours haue had laisure to regarde The harms of thee and so a mirrour make Of thy greate doole and dulfull destinie harde Can greater plagues bee seen in any soile Then reuell rage and hauocke euery waie A ciuill warre with wicked waiste and spoile A deadlie botche that striks stoute harte by daie And kills by night the harmles in his bedde O ciuill warre thou hast a Hidras hedde A Uipers kinde a Serpentes nature throwe A Spiders shape a forme of vglie Tode A Deulishe face a shamelesse blotted browe A bloodie hande at home and eke abrode And if a man would painte a monster right Set out in shape but eiuill warre to sight Painte all the harms that cruell murther bryngs And sure that Snake will shewe ten thousande stings A man maie not in colours setforthe well A rude reuolt a wretched ciuill brawll He were as good assaie to painte out hell And seeke to shewe the sorts of torments all That sillie souls doo feele with damned spreetts Who sees reuolte in feeld or ciuill streets Will thinke he meetts madd doggs disgisde like men Or els wilde Wolues that liues in sauage woode It passeth witte and cunnyng arte of pen To blase out warrs began on mortall foode And namely broills that breeds in publike state The cause whereof bothe God and man doeth hate O France the flowre and gardaine of the earth The soile of wealthe and topp of triumphe all Where is become thy pastyme and thy mirthe Thy glorie greate that worldlie ioyes we call Hath wilde reuolt made tame thy
let that passe greate troubles maie a rise In angrie worlde that is displeasde for nought But suche as fall to murther are not wife Their witts can not conceiue how man was wrought Nor who regards the wrongs good people haue Whils giltlesse blood a right reuenge doeth craue FINIS THE BLESSED state of Englande WHat blessed hap and happie daies our Kyngdome doeth posses the welth peace that here aboūds to worlde maie well expres VVhat greater ioye cā people haue than rest and riches bothe And many other fruitfull thyngs that on those braunches groweth VVhat earthly fame is like to this what wisedome can bee more Than shunne the broiels that follie bryngs and laie vp wealthe in store For warrs when cause commaunds the same what can wee wishe so well Than at a tyme of troubles greate in quiet house to dwell But waye a while with iudging witte what woe our neighbours taste VVhat wealthe goes out what worlds vnreste comes in with warre and waste A lustie brute cries all for warre and suche as little haue VVith Princes paie or poore mens goods would faine goe gaie and braue But tastyng warrs bothe he and more that buyes their knowledge dere That goes out well coms home with losse and than rests quiet here Cries out of warrs finds fault with toile and trusts to that will laste And so with sadde and heauie minde forgetts the labours paste And faulls to take the ease we here enioye with peace at home A Iewell whiche full fea we shall finde that lists abrode to rome For rounde about vs euery where the worlde so runs on wheels That we are blest that here no parte of their affliction feeles Here haue wee scope to skippe or walke to ronne and plaie at base Still voide of feare and free of minde in euery poincte and cace Here freends maie meete and talke at will the Prince and Lawe obaied And neither straunge nor home borne childe of Fortune stands afraied Here hands doe reape the seeds thei so we and heads haue quiet sleeps And wisedome gouerns so the worlde that reason order keeps Here mercie rules and mildenesse raigns and peace greate plentie bryngs And sollace in his sweetest voice the Christmas carrowle syngs Here freends maie feast and triumphe too in suertie voide of ill And one the other welcome make with mirthe and warme good will The grounde it bryngs suche blessyng forthe that glad are forrains all Amid their want and harde exstreems in fauour here to faull Heer wounded staets doe heale their harms and straungers still repaire VVhen mischeef makes them marche abroad and driue them in dispaire Heer thousands haunt and finde releef that are in heauie cace And freendly folke with open armes doeth sillie soules enbrace Heer thyngs are cheape and easly had no soile the like can showe No state nor Kyngdome at this daie doeth in suche plentie flowe The trau'lar that hath paste the worlde and gone through many a lande VVhen he comes home and noets these thyngs to heauen holds vp hande And museth how this little plotte can yeeld suche pleasures greate It argues where suche graces growe that God hath blest the seate Bothe Prince and people euery one and where his blessyng is There neither wants no earthly ioye nor hope of heauens blis This I LE is Kirnell of the Nutte and those that neare vs dwell Our forraine neighbours rounde about I counte them but the shell That holdeth in this Kirnell sweete as Nature hath a ssiende And as some shells worme eaten are yet Kirnell sounde we finde So sondrie soils about this I le are crackt and croshte ye knowe VVith furies rage and force that fills their countrey full of woe VVhiche force of men or rage of warre maeks calme the lookers on And bids wise heads to quenche hotte fire and stande as colde as ston VVhen strief would storre vp quiet state to striue for feeble strawes And leaue the loue of countries zeale and holde with forraine cause O ENGLANDE thou art blest in deede thy necke is free from yoke Thy armes are strong thy body sounde and in good howre be spoke Thy youth and age haue able ioynts to trie thy cause in feelde And as that now in troublous tymes the Lorde hath been thy sheelde So looke when comes in cunnyng knacks thy whole account is made That plainnes shall make finenes feele the weight of Bilbowe blade More blessed than thy neighbours all by proof thou art as yet More likely art thou by that cause in peace and reste to sit More good in season hast thou doen than thousands well can waye Moste happie is thy state therefore and surer stands thy staye Than maiest thou be the Kirnell sweete that many wishe to haue But none can spoile nor scarce dare touche suche grace greate God thee gaue That garde shall keepe the Kirnell long from worme and wicked foile And sende good fortune sondrie waies vnto this blessed soile FINIS