more then is the Sun in clearest Sky When as no gloomy cloud lets him to show His goulden light but thou so swift doest fly As that Trueths mansion thou canst not descry Marke and Ile tell thee where thy daughter is And make thee glad to heare thy daughters blisse When Henry liu'd Truths farre-renowned frend In Englanâ— highly then she honourd was And so continu'd she till thou didst end His life and worthy Edwards life alas Then Enuy so her purpose brought to passe England disgraced all her glory and Misled by Enuy banisht truth her land All comfortlesse sad and disconsolate Pooâ—e Truth opprest to take her passage hyde She tooke her barke alone and scorning mate Where she was so abu'sd was brought with tyde At last into the Ocean gulfe so wyde Where many waues her little barke did crosse And many billowes bitterly it tosâ—e And fayne she would swift flying Time haue seene To him of this her sorrow to complaine Now banished late honoured as a Queene But when she saw her wishes were but vayne She left to wish yet could not greife restrayne At last I chauncing nigh that way to fly Her thus oppressed did I then espy Her cheekes were blubbered her hayre was tornâ— Her garments â—ent and all besprent with teares Her hands she wrung and looked all forlorne Her heart was full of agonyes and feares And euery while her eyes to heauen she â—eares Soone as she saw me she did comfort take Aud from her passions did her selfe awake She askt if I could tell her where Time were I answerd that I had not seen him long But that I merueiled to see her there Fayre Lady Truth who hath done you this wrong Sayd I but griefe then â—eâ—â—ered her tongue At last she sobbing sayd she was misused Iniustly and 〈◊〉 abused Then offred I my selfe on her t'attend That if I could I might her somewhat cheare But on the suddayne did from heauen descend A glorious Angel bright and very cleare Whome God for that he houldeth Truth most-deare Did send to comfort her in this distresse Least too much griefe would her too much oppresse And thus he spake sweet Goddesse without spot Feare not fayre virgin be not so disâ—ayd Thinke not that God hath sacred Truth forgot Or that h'will suffer thee to be betrayd Cheare vp thy selfe let passion be allayd Most pleasing newes God now by me hath sent thee Which when thou knowest I know it will content thee Thine enemies in England now are dead For thy sake God hath made their liues but short And Englands crowne set on a virgins head In whome of graces such a sort consort That no tongue her perfections can report Hast thither and though England wronged thee Thy wrongs redresse Elizabeth will see This sayd he takes the guiding of the helme And Truth reioyc'd that shee such comfort had Whome late a Sea of griefe seemd to oâ—ewhelme And now shee was as ioyfull and as glad As shee before was comfortlesse and sad Shee thanked God for this great benefit And backe to Englands shore her barke doth flit I flew before as swift as roules the Sky And on my trumpet did I sound aloud That Truth approached presently did hy To euery shore a prease and thronging croud To see where Truths barke would it selfe inshroude Elizabeth no sooner heard of this But that shee sayd shee had obtaynd her wish For when Truth was 〈◊〉 this matchlesse Queene Did her imbrace and 〈◊〉 graciously The people which not loâ—g her face had seâ—â—e Witnest their ioy by an applauding cry And fayre Eliza thank't God hartily That Tâ—â—th againe in safety was reâ—ouâ—ned For whose long absence shee so long had mourned And as when Tully was recal'd agayne From wrongfull banishment Rome did reioyce In euery street there followd him a trayne To welcome him with glad and ioyfull voyce Of whome they thought their Gods made speciall choyce To doe Rome good so England weclom'd Truth And made her quite forget her former ruâ—th And now with chast Elizabeth shee dwels Highly adored and admir'd of all My trompe abroad her rare perfection tels Whereby in many lands shee holds the ball And multitudes are subiect to her call For though in England shee hath residence In other lands shee hath prehemince And thus good Time I vnto thee haue tolde Where sacred Truth thy daughter's intertayned No point in this my tale can be controlde No sentence in the same is false or fayned Vpon sure grounds the same is all sustayned And that no place of doubting may remayne Behold a witnesse to confirme it playne See here a 〈◊〉 from thy daughters 〈◊〉 Who for she heard of 〈…〉 The brood of Eâ—â—y that most loathsome else Did spread of England in malicious sort That shee might me from blasing it dehort Least I should giue thâ—m credence to preuent me Of Englands Excelleâ—ce this writ shee sent me Wherein thou mayst confirmed playnly â—ee By testimonie of Truths sacred pen All which I now haue vttered to thee And daily sounds my trompe in eaâ—eâ— of men Heare thou this letter read good Time and then Iudge thou of Fame as thou shalt find iust causeâ— Fault her if shee haue spoke one faulâ—y clause This was the letter which I sayd before It seemed Fame did read on as shee flew And to o're take swift-paced Time did so're And here in following termes it doth insue Declaring Fames report to be most true And with it witnessing the great renowne Of glorious England and Elizaes crowne TRVTHS LETTER TO FAME OF ENGLANDES EXCELLENCIE ADmired Fame by all men honoured Thou due rewarder of all great desarts Thou that doest make men liue when they are dead Thou cherisher of honour-breathing harts Parent of valour Nurse of sacred Arts Take thou a little truce with false surmises And marke what Truth thee to report aduises Speake thou of England and her excellence Straine thou aloft thy trompets roaring blast Tell thou to all her great preheminence And as through euery land thou flyest fast Let Englands worth be neuer ouerpast That all the VVorld may wonder much at this That such a wonder in the VVorld there is And first declare in what an high account Shee houldeth Truths most sacred deity Her kindnesse now to me doth farre surmount Her late vnkindnesse shewd to me when I Was forced into banishment to fly The chiefe efficient of which direfull woe Was cruell Enuy my malicious foe But now no 〈…〉 What ere they were in ages â—ouâ—â— of 〈◊〉 Amongst whome I in greatest honour 〈◊〉 Did eâ—er prize me 〈◊〉 a higher rate Then England doth or more increase my state No nation 〈…〉 more Then glorious Englâ—nd doth 〈◊〉 now adore Thou sawst how shee did welcome me when as Vpon her shore I was agayne arriued Thou sawst how great my intertainment was Though Enuy late had me of right depriued And to disgrace me straâ—agems contriued But I haue greater arguments to proue The greatnesse of her kindnesse and
her loue For when my former griefe was quite disperst And thought of former wrong farre cha'sd away My graces which with cloudes were hidden erst Gan to disclose and suddenly display Themselues and all their beauty to be wray In great perfection which when England saw Great admiration from her did it draw Astonisht with my graces most diuine For Truth of Truth may iustly speake the truth And rauisht with fayre Truths rare beauties shine It grieued her that my so grieuous ruth Shee so had suffred and to me shee suâ—h That I no longer would retayne in mind My late disgrace which prou'd her too vnkind Which easily obtaind shee promist mee And with a solemne oath her selfe shee bound That I should presently perceiue and see How glad shee was she had my fauour found Immediatly in selfe same minutes stound Into my hands shee freely did deliuer Two elfes that were my vowed en'mies euer Enuy the one and Superstition The other was both these two did procure Those iniuries poore Truth to fall vpon I meane those wrongs which I did late indure For so fayre England did me then assure They my disastres and distresses bred By their sole meanes I so was iniured Enuy shee tolde good England that I sought To circumuent her by some treachery And so to bring her glorious state to nought For sure shee sayd there was no remedy If still shee intertayn'd me courteously Her glory of necessity must fall And all her pompe be perioded withall And Superstition shee her selfe inuested In a rich habite which was not her owne For well shee knew that shee should be detâ—sted If what she were indeed it should be knowne And so might all her drifts be ouerthrowne She deckt her selfe with many a pretious gemme And on her head shee set a diademme And thus to England came shee and to hir Sayd shee was Truth and Truth did but deceaue hir And shee with Enuy kept so foule a stir That England fear'd I would of life bereaue hir For still they tolde hir I nere meant to leaue hir Till I had made hir statâ— most miserable Which only Truth makes truly admirable All this did England vnto me declare And sayd these twayne hir sutly did beguile For Superstition durst with me compare And Eâ—uy robd me of my rightfull stile To grace therewith hir mate that wretch so vile Fayre Truth saith shee know surely this for truth Had not these been nere should haue been thy ruth Their subtilty simplicity abused And by their craft they did me ouer reach Or else thou nere shouldst haue been so misused But now these hellish caitifes I will â—each What t'is t'wixt thee and mee to make a breach For now I know them and here captiues haue them Appoint their doomes not all the World shall saue them The which when I did to hir selfe referre And tolde hir Truth doth not delight in blood Shee sayd that Enuy shee would quick interre And that same other wretch foe to my good Should steruing pine and dy for want of food Thus Truth saith shee I will reuenge thy wrong And for my fault make full amends ere long This said shee pluckt from Superstitions backe My glorious ornaments and gorgeous weeds For mine they were and to supply her lacke Shee stole them from me and such lewd misdeeds It is by which hir progeny still speeds Thus stript a foule deformed hagge shee seemd I wondred how shee could be â—o esteemd Then straight shee led them both vnto their doome And thus shee vsde Truths greatest enemies Though Superstitions Sonne still liue at Rome Yet for my many grieuous iniuries And for shee wrought me such indignities Her selfe was staru'd and Enuy felt such paine As shee deseru'd though still hir brood remaine Thus England dealt for me and more then so Her loue yet further did it selfe extend Shee did not onely thus reuenge my woe But also gainst my foes my right defend Listen good Fame and with attention lend Thine eare vnto my tale whilst I declare Her loue to me her kindnes and her care Proud Superstitions Sonne soone as he knew His mothers death was onely for my sake He gathered an host a mighty crew With which he ment gainst England warre to make And forcibly me from her hands to take So great and puissant his forces were He thought her hart would be o'rewhelmd with feare For with him ioyned was his cursed sister That odious and notorious whore of Babet Her mothers death shee knew and likewise mist her Aswell as he And with her such a â—able Of paramours she had as seemed able The greatest state on earth to ruâ—nate And bring to greatest pompe a tragicke fate Thus mand began to manage forth his warre And proudly sent to England this defiance That shee should looke for enemies from farre If still with Truth shee kept so great allyance Such warre in auntient times did wage those giants That gainst the heauenly powers as Poets wright Opposd themselues and their presuming might Yet if shee would deliuer to his hand Truth that he might on her reuengement take He sent her word he would not hurt her land But if shee did this profer made forsake Then should his wrath it selfe vp-rouse and wake To which he thought shee could make no resistance Though God from heauen should giue her his assistance These menaces not feared her a whit Shee weighd them not but bid him doe his worst In spight of him Truth should in safety sir She sayd nor should a monster so acucrst Make her to satiate his bloody thurst Truth loue I well saith shee and well I know Truths champions God will sheild from ouerthrow This answer made Truthâ— enemies inraged And foming poyson swore that Truth should dye Or Englandâ— liâ—e should be for hers ingaged Not knowing Truth â—ust liue immorally And liue to see the cuâ—sed progeny Of Superstition consumed quite Though now against me they are bold to fight Towards England straight they hye in furious hast Intending to destroy 〈◊〉 To leaue her land all desolate and wast And bring her selfe into captiuitye And thus resolu'd iâ— swarmes they 〈…〉 The Diuill lent them 〈…〉 But God from 〈…〉 When England heard my foes 〈…〉 Together gathred she her 〈…〉 To fight for Truth whome 〈…〉 Meaning to shew no pitty â—o â—emoâ—e To them that sought 〈…〉 Away with me shee hasts my foes to 〈◊〉 In little kindnesse mâ—â—ning them to greet At last they met in a large spatious playne Wholy vnlyke in shew their troupes did paâ—â—e For multitude the drops in showers of 〈◊〉 The other sorte was nothing so alas Compar'd to them like some small â—idge of grasse In field of come or more for my intent As seems least yle to largâ—st contiâ—ent As those small troupes with which the 〈◊〉 Did braue and dare Darins in the field Compar'd to those o're whoâ—e he conquest woâ— When proud 〈…〉 â—as to yield Maâ—ger the force he had himselfe to shield Such England
had compared in the power That now prepared was her to 〈◊〉 Or as thosâ— little forceâ— once opposâ—d Against great Xerxes nauy which was thoughâ— Impossible by force to be 〈…〉 Or vnto any hazard to be brought Such England had compar'd with theirâ— that soughâ— To bring her state to ruin for my sake Because she would not Truthâ— defence 〈◊〉 Yet England 〈…〉 Nor terrefide by their 〈…〉 Couragiously her 〈◊〉 she forwâ—â—d led And did her selfe midst thâ—ckest thâ—ong intrude That with their 〈◊〉 her haâ—◠〈◊〉 be imbâ—â—de Straunge that a 〈◊〉 should so valiant be And such an anciâ—â—◠〈◊〉 as is 〈◊〉 Backt with such helpe as I to her could yield At the first on â—er and first furious shocke So fiercely she heâ— brandisht blade did wield That they who first her little force did mocke And thought they might their harts securely rocke On sleep were made from 〈◊〉 to run and stray Her force and feirceneâ— did theâ— so dismay But â—o a new supply did them renew For as they thus were daâ—â—ted and dismayd An host of â—eends we might approaching vew That tow'rds vs came with enlignes all displayd Fearing their kingdome should be sore decayd If England o're Truths enmyes should preuaile They hastned thus to make her courage quaile But God which alwaies doth Truths cause defend Our prayers to him most benignely hard And downe from heauen he gratiously did send Legions of Angels that they might me gard And England from all daungers safely ward So soone as England saw God help'd her so She cared nor for 〈◊〉 noâ— any foe Straight Superstitions Sonne she doth dismouâ—t From of his palfrey where he proudly saâ—e Commaunding him to render an account Of his presumption and to tell her what Made him so bolde whilst this I wondred aâ— His sister managing a monstrous beast With murther and with bloud her hate did feaâ—t Which when I saw to her inâ—ag'd I hide But presently she trembling turnd her backe In no wise she my presence would abide I followed amayne her monsters tracke Nor did I meane my swift pursuite to slacke Still did she runne to shunne my fierce incounter For well she knew I did in force surmount her As flees the sable Night from dayes approach Fearing to looke 〈…〉 in the fâ—ce For when 〈…〉 her siluer â—oach Night trips apace and leaues to her the place So fled this strâ—â—pet from me in thi◠〈◊〉 Nor durst 〈…〉 to look on mee But posting 〈…〉 I follow'd her to 〈…〉 Thinking to ouertake her but in 〈◊〉 Which place 〈◊〉 it my 〈◊〉 and hates Did make mee presently 〈…〉 Or else this strumpâ—â— had not 〈◊〉 vnâ—lâ—yâ—e Backe I retuâ—◠〈◊〉 England whome I found Mongst slaughterd 〈…〉 For Superstitioâ—s 〈…〉 Yet wounded so that presently he dyed Or seemd to dye 〈…〉 And closely got himselfe 〈…〉 Repenting that 〈…〉 Disrob'd and naked was he glad 〈…〉 That 〈…〉 His forces also all dispersed 〈◊〉 And cut in pieces or else 〈…〉 Nothing but bloudy 〈…〉 And thus for Trueth 〈…〉 Ayded by God 〈…〉 To 〈…〉 And say◠〈…〉 This victory thus happily obtained Triumphant backe with Englan◠〈◊〉 I led Hoping shee now had firmely me regained A crowne imperiall plac'd she on my head And promist I should not be 〈◊〉 Though with her bloud shee did reuenge my wrong For well shee knew that God would make her strong And now these forty yeares I haue remayned With her in honour and in maiesty And as when shee at first mee intertayned I meane first after my great misery Shee welcomd me thou knowest most louingly So still her loue continueth the same And still 〈◊〉 doth adore Truths sacred name And is not this good Fame an excellence Did euer any nation more for me Or stand more stoutly to my rightes defence And righteous quarrell Surely if it be An excellence to 〈◊〉 Truth then shee Fames approbation deserueth well For in this excellence 〈◊〉 doth excell Of Englands matchlesse Queene make next report A matchlesse the ame and 〈◊〉 fitting Fame A matter of high mâ—ment great import Elizabeth no sooner 〈◊〉 thou name But Enuyes brood will hyde their heads for shame Not daring once her worth to fault or blame When worthily thou shalt declare the same Now could I wish some sacred Muses skill In sugred tunes her excellence to tell Then should my tale with admiration fill Thine eares to heare how much she doth excell For Excellence it selfe in her doth dwell What should I say Ah I want words to say What one she is her graces to display Religion hath in her such interest For her sake Truth intirely doth she loue And such possession in her sacred brest Hath Pietie that vnto God aboue Her thoughts and her affections soaring moue As if she did terrestriall things despise And scornd the world and worldly things to prise Strange in a Monarch of such maiesty For humane nature is so fraile by kinde That being once aduanced by and by God we forget noâ— will retayne in minde Those benefits from him we still doe finde But she of honour and of dignitie Maketh a step therewith to mount on hie As towres aloftie Eagle still aloâ—â— And doth to take a lower flight dâ—â—daine When as to pierce the cloudes she seemeth 〈◊〉 As if she sought some sacred seate to gaine Amongst the Starâ—es in glory to remaine Euen so Eliza striues aloft to mount And of these baser things makes none account True prince-ennobling faite celestiall grace Infusde by God himselfe into the minde Inforcing nature to resigne her place That otherwise is of her selfe inclinde Happy are they from God such fauour finde Ah happie yea thrice happie sure are those Whose minds thus graciously God doth dispose And happie England to whome God hath graunted A Princesse so religiously deuoted For else might Truth still haue remayned daunted And England still on Superstition doted And happely so soone had not been noted Her slie deceit had not Eliza beene Whom God made chiefest meanes to make it seene But ah I faint I finde my selfe too weake To beare so great a burthen or to treat Of such rare excellence though Truth can speake Nothing but truth her taske is ouer great To tell Elizaes worth or shew the seat That euery speciall grace hath in her hart In minde in body and in euery part Poets of Pallas oft reported much And would Fame know what they did meane thereby In auncient times ne're liued any such But they of Englands Queene did prophecy Compare their writings with her worth to try The trueth hereof then shalt thou plainely see Neuer was any Pallas if not shee Pallas from Ioue himselfe drew her 〈◊〉 And is not Englands-Queene 〈◊〉 child Else sure shee could not 〈…〉 So vertuous religious and mild T' were hard if Truth should be herein beguild Immortall Pallas they declar'd to be This Queenes immortall falne 〈◊〉 did 〈◊〉 Pallas those 〈…〉 For depth of wisedome and lot 〈…〉 And doe not 〈…〉 Wayting vpon her as
her handmaydes still To execute her pleasure and her â—ill Eliza they could not haue 〈…〉 VVisedome and learning both support her 〈◊〉 Her Wisedome is as farre beyond compare With most of weaker 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 kynd As brightest 〈◊〉 that in the heauens are Comparde with 〈…〉 that euer shinde Or smallest glo-wormes men by night doe finde What talke I of her 〈◊〉 such Wisedome can Be very hardly found in any man Witnesse her gouerment this forty yeares So wonderfull 〈◊〉 and raâ—ely wise Wise is the Pylot that his 〈◊〉 then steeres In safety when as greatest stormes arise And euery billow mounteth to the Skies And wise Eliza that 〈…〉 so guydes In spite of sternest foes â—e 〈◊〉 betydes Millions of billowes menace the decay Of Englands common wealth yet not preuayle Nor can they make her giue them any way Or any whit to beare the lesser sayle They can not hurt her for their force doth fayle God teacheth her to rule the helme so well Her barke doth breake them when they proudest swell And as for Learnings admirable graces Let Learnings selfe her learning testifie That pen which in this Subiect largely traces At full herein her worth to amplifie In many volumes need historifie Her excellence in excellentest Artes Requires more skill then Arte to me imparts In sacred letters she so skilfull is So expert and so well experienced Her match to findâ—â— is difficult Iwis I meane a prince that is so deeply red In holy writ for nere was registred By auntient Time in any monument One prince in sacred skill more excellent List her but speake or write what tongue she will Of sacred languages or other wise Her talke her stile appeare so full of skill As all the Muses did the same deuise But how alas can lines such worth comprise Her talke her stile are both celestiall Her wisedome and her skill angelicall Pallas moreouer they declar'd to be Victorious 〈…〉 And may not one meere blind perceiue and see They prophecide of Englands princely head All whose deseignes so prosp'rously haue sped She neuer went without the Victorie Since she obtaind the English monarchie Thus Fame thou seest that Englands gouernessâ— Is Pallas selfe for Wisedome learning and For faire victorious fortunate successe In euery action which she takes in hand Oh happy common wealth oh happy land Pallas she is and Vertues Pallaâ—e eke What theme more glorious needeth Faâ—e to seeke Her Fortitude her neuer dauntedmind Contemning troubles of aduersity Which all that liue sometime of 〈…〉 Her worthy princely 〈◊〉 Her Temperance in calme prosperity Are such that no pen 〈◊〉 Expresse the samâ— or praise them 〈◊〉 And yet two 〈…〉 by More then by all these that haue yet been named And as those two great 〈…〉 Which for the worlds two 〈…〉 first were named Whose presence 〈…〉 Euen so Eâ—iza is adorned by Her Chastity and 〈…〉 Should I her Chastity striue to declare So pure so matchlesse so immaculate So spotlesse and so admirably rare Nere should I satisfie or satiate My thirsty pen herein nor moderate My wandring Muse that would too tedious be And so perhaps too troublesome to thee This gemme of price this ornament of worth This precious pearle this â—ewell of esteeme I leaue to thee at full to set it forth That to the World Elizabeth may seeme Dianaes selfe and all the World may deeme The paragon of Chastity she is Whome neuer any could excell in this And yet her Equity it equalleth And is as excellent and rare as that Hon'ring asmuch diuine Elizabeth For this makes also her admired at Asmuch as any prince that euer sat On Regall throne and hard it is to name One liuing now her equall in the same Iustice and mercy she in ballance layeth Theâ—e equally to counterpoyse each other And with them all her actions wisely wayeth Not suffring one to ouerpoise another So deales with dearest children tender mother Her iustice great her mercy is as great Iustice and Mercye both wait on her seat There wait they and when she determines ought Both of them plead and both their sentences She wisely makes together to be brought And by them both deemes what most fitting is Taking away from them all diffrences And so in one she both of them combines And both together in one band conioynes When Iustice strikes then Mercie tells her how And shewes her whome she with her sword should smite Eliza made to Equity a vow By heauens by earth and by her scepters right Iustice and mercy she would counite Sacred and mild is that seuerity When Iustice linked is with clemency Canst thou this Excellence Fame too much prise For England such a worthy prince to haue So learned and so admirably wise So vertuous religious and graue So chast so iust so mercifull to saue Speake what thou canst for this Truth dares auer Thou canst not speake too worthily of her And next adioyne her worthy Senatours Declare their Wisedome and their grauity I meane Elizabeth's wise Counsailours Supporting stayes to Englands pollicy Vpholding it as Atlas doth the sky A speciall Excellence thou shouldst omit If mention of their worth thou shouldst forget For their graue wisedome and wise grauity Tell thou the world that they fage Catoes are Nestors in Counsell when they prudently What best doth fit for Englands good declare For loue vnto their Countrey them compare To Parents in their childrens tender loue Which neuer from them will the same remoue And well thou maist to Parents loue compare Their tender loue vnto their nation So fatherly it is so great their care It seemeth greater then th'affection That Parents beare their best indeared Sonne A happie blessed Aristocratie In such a farre-excelling Monarchie I tell thee Fame their worthie names will grace Thy tale and thy discourse in euery eare And therefore in thy swift continuall race Forget thou not the same but let all heare And let it to succeeding times appeare As thou through euery land shalt swiftly passe How farre herein faire England doth surpasse Next speake of Englands dauntlesse Warriours T'will grace thy trumpe to grace them with her sound Braue Martialists victorious Conquerours Worthy eternally to be renound And with immoâ—tall glorie to be cround Tell their deserts and fame-deseruing laude That all the world may to their worth applaudâ— Vpon their plumed crests doth Honour fit In glorious weeds as great 〈◊〉 Instructing them as pupils what is fit Whilst they to her obedience professe In all their actions she is gouernesse Nor will they once from Honours precepts swerâ—e Whome whilst they serue all honour they deserue On Honour still attendeth Victory To grace their deeds with prosperous euent Directing them to wield couragiously Their conqu'ring blades to foes astonishment Who thinke Reuenge her selfe mongst them is sent Whilst Englands worthies fury they doe see And feele their force from which they would be free Their looks as lightning dwell foemens eyes Their hands forge thunder to their warlike looke