Collected Works of Michael Drayton

by Michael Drayton

  But now alasse that comfort being gone,

  Tears do want eies which shold giue tears to weepe

  Whence I lost ioy there care I euer keepe:

  What gaue me woe from me doth comfort take,

  Delight a sleepe, now sorrow still must wake.

  192

  I saw my ill, when ill could scarclie see,

  I saw my good, when I my good scarce knew,

  Now see not ill, when as my ill sees mee,

  Hasting to that which still doth mee pursue,

  With my lost eyes, sorrow my state doth view,

  In blindnes loosing hope of all delight,

  And with my blindnes, giue my cares full light.

  193

  As man himselfe, so the most hatefull beast,

  The Worme enioyes the ayre as well as wee,

  The little Gnat, or thing that liues the least,

  Of this by nature kindly is made free:

  what thing hath mouth to brethe, but eyes to see?

  Though honor lost, yet might I humbly craue,

  To haue what beasts, or flies, or pore worms haue.

  194

  Mine eyes hurt not the Sun, nor steale the day,

  Except a candle, they see neuer light,

  These monstrous walls do take that doubt away,

  What? feare then yt they shold harme ye night?

  Needles is that, sith tears haue blotted sight.

  I know not then fro whence this hate should rise,

  Except it onely be, that they be eyes.

  195

  The man-betraying Basilisk hath eyes,

  Although by sight those eyes be made to kill,

  Though her owne works be made her enemies,

  Though naturally ordained vnto ill,

  Yet in her selfe so iust is nature still:

  How monstrous then am I alone in nature,

  Denide of that she giues the vilest creature?

  196

  Oh tyrannie more cruell far then death,

  Though death be but the end of tyranie,

  Death lends vs sight whilst she doth giue vs breath,

  Of all the sences that the last doth dye,

  In lyuing death, how miserable am I,

  In life, of this sence me thus to depriue,

  To make the others dye, my selfe aliue.

  197

  Eyes which with ioy like Sunnes haue risen oft,

  To view that holy Citties glorious Towers,

  And seene the Christian Ensignes raisd aloft,

  Crowning the walls like garlands of rare flowers,

  Now lie you perrisht in your Iuory bowers,

  Nor shal you henceforth boast what you haue been

  But leaue the minde to thinke what you haue seen.

  198

  You, which haue seene faire Palestine •estor’d,

  And gorgeous Syon from the Paynims freed,

  The Sepulcher of your most glorious Lord,

  And yt faire Mount wher his sweet wouds did bleed

  And with these sights my hungry soule did feed.

  Within you brincks be drownd in your own blood

  Which oft haue view’d great Iordans sacred flood.

  199

  Rake vp the sparks which nourished your fire,

  Within the ashes of consumed eyes,

  Those little brands which kindled youths desire,

  The haples starrs of passed miseries,

  Wander no more within your circling skies;

  Vnder the Globes great compasse euer roule,

  And in my minds great world, now light my soule.

  200

  Good night sweet Sunns, your lights are cleane put out,

  Your hollow pits be graues of all your ioy,

  With dreadfull darknes compassed about,

  Wherein is cast what murther can destroy,

  That buried there, which did the world annoy,

  Those holy Fanes where vertue hallowed stood,

  Become a place of slaughter and of blood.

  201

  Poure downe your last refreshing euening dew,

  And bathe your selues in fountains of your tears,

  The day no more shall euer breake to you,

  The ioyfull dawne no more at all appears,

  No cheerfull sight your sorrow euer cheers:

  Shut vp your windows ere constraint compell,

  Be-take your selues to nights eternall Cell.

  202

  HIS passion ending, Fortune discontent,

  Turning her back as shee away would flie,

  Playing with fooles and babes incontinent,

  As neuer toucht with humane misery,

  Euen after death shewing inconstancy,

  As straight forgetting what she had to tell,

  To other speech and girlish laughter fell.

  203

  Whe graceful Fame, conuaying thence her charge,

  With all these troupes attended royallie,

  Gaue me this booke, wherein was writ at large,

  Great Norman Roberts famous history,

  T’amaze the world with his sad Tragedy:

  But Fortune angry with her foe therefore,

  Gaue me this gift, That I should still be poore.

  FINIS.

  THE ARGVMENT OF MATILDA.

  MATILDA, for her beauty named the faire; A second Lucretia: the daughter of a noble Barron, the Lorde Robert Fitzwater, (a man of great wisdom & courage) was long time followed of king Iohn, who sought by all meanes possible to winne her to his vnlawfull desire; But finding that all hee could deuise tooke no effect, (such was her wonderfull chastitie,) hee sought by force to take her from the Court, and to sende her to some secret place, where hee might fitlie accomplish his wicked intent, but his purpose was preuented by her Fathers pollicie. The King hereat enraged through despight, subborned certaine malicious persons, subtilly to accuse the Lord Fitzwater of rebellion, where-vpon hee is banished. Matilda flieth to Dunmowe in Essex, and there became a Nunne, in a Religious house there builded, by IVGA, a Virgin, one of her Auncestors; to which place the King sendeth one to solicite his old sute, with poyson, eyther to yeelde to his desire, or to end her life. Shee, seeing her Father banished, none left to succour her, and fearing to be take out of the Nunnary, tooke the poyson, and ended her dayes.

  ENGLAND’S HEROICAL EPISTLES

  CONTENTS

  To the Reader.

  To M. Michaell Drayton.

  To M. Michaell Drayton.

  To M. Michaell Drayton.

  To the excellent Lady Lucie, Countesse of Bedford.

  The Epistle of Rosamond to King Henrie the second.

  Henry to Rosamond.

  King Iohn to Matilda.

  Matilda to King Iohn.

  To the vertuous Lady, the Lady Anne Harrington: wife to the honourable Gentleman, Sir Iohn Harrington Knight.

  Queene Isabell to Mortimer.

  Mortimer to Queene Isabell.

  To my worthy and honoured friend, Maister Walter Aston.

  Edward the blacke Prince to Alice Countesse of Salisburie.

  Alice Countesse of Salisburie, to the blacke Prince.

  To the Right Honourable and my very good Lord, Edward Earle of Bedford.

  Queene Isabell to Richard the second.

  Richard the second to Queene Isabell.

  Queene Katherine to Owen Tudor.

  Owen Tudor to Queene Katherine.

  To my worthy and deerely esteemed Friend, Maister Iames Huish.

  Elinor Cobham to Duke Humfrey.

  Duke Humfrey to Elinor Cobham.

  To my honoured Mistres, Mistres Elizabeth Tanfelde, the sole daughter and heyre of that famous and learned Lawyer, Lawrence Tanfelde Esquire.

  William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolke, to Queene Margaret.

  Queene Margaret to William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolke.

  To the Right Worshipfull Sir Thomas Munson, Knight.

  Edward the fourth to Shores wife.r />
  The Epistle of Shores wife to King Edward the fourth.

  To the Right Worshipfull Sir Henry Goodere of Powlesworth Knight.

  Mary the French Queene, to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolke.

  Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolk, to Mary the French Queene.

  To my most deere friend Maister Henry Lucas, sonne to Edward Lucas Esquire.

  Henry Howard Earle of Surrey to Geraldine.

  Geraldine to Henry Howard Earle of Surrey.

  To the vertuous Ladie, the Lady Frauncis Goodere, wife to Sir Henry Goodere, Knight.

  The Ladie Iane Gray to the Lord Gilford Dudley.

  The Lord Gilford Dudley, to the Lady Iane Gray.

  To the Reader.

  SEEING these Epistles are now to the world made publique, it is imagined that I ought to bee accountable of my priuate meaning, cheefely for mine owne discharge, least beeing misttaken, I fall in hazard of a iust and vniuersall reprehension, for.

  Hae nugae feria ducent

  In mala derisum semel exceptumque sinistre.

  Three poynts are especially therefore to be explained. First, why I entitle this worke Englands heriocall Epistles; the¯ why I obserue not the persons dignitie in the dedication; lastly, why I haue annexed notes to euery Epistles end. For the first, the title I hope carrieth reason in it selfe, for that the most and greatest persons herein were English, or else, that theyr loues were obtained in England. And though (heriocall) be properly vnderstood of demi-gods, as of Hercules and Æneas, whose parents were said to be the one celestiall, the other mortall, yet is it also transferred to them, who for the greatnes of mind come neere to Gods. For to be borne of a celestiall Incubus, is nothing else but to haue a great and mightie spirit, farre aboue the earthly weakenesse of men, in which sence Ouid (whose imitator I partly professe to be) doth also vse heroicall. For the second, seeing none to whom I haue dedicated any two Epistles, but haue theyr states ouermatched by them who are made to speake in the Epistles, how euer the order is in dedication, yet in respect of their degrees in my deuotion, and the cause before recited, I hope they suffer no disparagement, seeing euery one is the first in theyr particuler interest, hauing in some sort, sorted the complexion of the Epistles, to the character of theyr iudgements to whom I dedicate the¯, excepting onely the blamefulnesse of the persons passion, in those poynts wherein the passion is blamefull. Lastly, such manifest difference being betwixt euery one of them, where or howsoeuer they be marshalled, how can I be iustly appeached of vnaduisement. For the third, because the worke might in truth be iudged brainish, if nothing but amorous humor were handled therein, I haue enter wouen matters historicall, which vnexplaned, might defraud the minde of much content, as for example, in Queene Margarites Epistle to William dela Pole,

  My Daizie flower, which once perfum’d the ayre,

  Margarite in French signifies a Daizie, which for the allusion to her name, this Queene did giue for her deuise; and this as others more, haue seemed to me not vnworthy the explaning.

  Now, though no doubt I had neede to excuse other thinges beside, yet these most especially, the rest I ouerpasse to eschue tedious recitall, or to speake as malicious enuy may, for that in truth I ouersee them. If they be as harmlesly taken as I meant them, it shall suffice to haue onely t•uched the cause of the title of the dedications, and of the notes, whereby emboldned to publish the residue, (these not beeing accounted in mens opinions relishlesse) • shall not lastly be afrayd to beleeue and acknowledge thee a gentle Reader.

  M. D.

  To M. Michaell Drayton.

  HOW can he write that broken hath his pen,

  Hath rent his paper, throwne his Inke away,

  Detests the world and company of men,

  Because they grow more hatefull day by day.

  Yet with these broken reliques, mated mind,

  And what a iustly-greeued thought can say:

  I giue the world to know, I nere could find,

  A worke more like to liue a longer day.

  Goe verse, an obiect for the proudest eye;

  Disdaine those which disdaine to reade thee ouer,

  Tell them they know not how they should discry,

  The secret passions of a wittie louer.

  For they are such, as none but those shall know,

  whom Beauty s•hooles to hold the blind Boyes bow.

  Once I had vow’d, (ô who can all vowes keepe?)

  Hence-forth to smother my vnlucky Muse;

  Yet for thy sake she started out of sleepe,

  Yet now she dies. Then doe as kindsfolks vse;

  Close vp the eyes of my now-deing-stile,

  As I haue op’ned thy sweet babes ere-while.

  E. Sc. Gent.

  Duris decus omen.

  To M. Michaell Drayton.

  LONG haue I wish’d and hop’d my weaker Muse,

  (In nothing strong but my vnhappy loue)

  Would giue me leaue my fortune to approue,

  And view the world, as named, Poets vse;

  But still her fruitlesse bosome doth refuse

  To blesse me with indifferencie of praise,

  Not daring (like to many) to abuse

  That title which true worth should onely raise;

  Thus bankerout, and dispairing of mine owne,

  I set my wish and hope (kind friend) on thee,

  whose fruite approu’d, and better fortune knowne,

  Tels me thy Muse, my loues sole heire must be;

  So barren wombes embrace their neighbours yong,

  So dumbe men speake by them that haue a tong.

  Thomas Hassall, Gent.

  To M. Michaell Drayton.

  NOW I perceaue Pythagoras deuin’d,

  when he that mocked Maxim did maintaine,

  That spirits once spoyl’d, reuested were againe,

  Though chang’d in shape, remaining one in mind;

  These loue-sicke Princes passionate estates,

  Who feeling reades, he cannot but allow,

  That Ouids soule reuiues in Drayton now,

  Still learn’d in loue, still rich in rare conceits,

  This pregnant spirit affecting further skill,

  Oft alt’ring forme, from vulgar wits retir’d,

  In diuers Ideoms mightily admir’d,

  Did prosecute that sacred studie still;

  while to a full perfection now attain’d,

  He sings so sweetly that himselfe is stain’d.

  William Alexander. Scotus.

  To the excellent Lady Lucie, Countesse of Bedford.

  MADAM, after all the admired wits of this excellent age, which haue laboured in the sad complaints of faire and vnfortunate Rosamond, and by the excellency of inuention, haue sounded the depth of her sundry passions; I present to your Ladiship this Epistle of hers to King Henry, whom I may rather call her louer then beloued. Heere must your Ladishippe behold variablenes in resolution; woes constantly grounded; laments abruptly broken off; much confidence, no certainty, words begetting teares, teares confounding matter, large complaints in little papers; and many deformed cares, in one vniformed Epistle. I striue not to effect singularity, yet would faine flie imitation, & prostrate mine own wants to other mens perfections. Your iudiciall eye must modell foorth what my pen hath layd together, much would she say to a King, much would I say to a Countesse, but that the methed of my Epistle must conclude the modesty of hers, which I wish may recommend my euer vowed seruice to your honour.

  Michaell Drayton.

  The Epistle of Rosamond to King Henrie the second.

  THE ARGUMENT.

  Henry the second of that name, King of England, the sonne of Geffrey Plantaginet, Earle of Aniou, and Maude the Empresse, hauing by long sute and princely gifts, wonne (to his vnlawfull desire) faire Rosamond, the daughter of the Lord Walter Clyfford, and to auoyde the danger of Ellinor his iealous Queene, had caused • Labyrinth to be made within his Pallace at Woodstocke, in the center whereof, he had lodged his beauteous paramore. Whilst the Ki
ng is absent in his warres in Normandie, this poore distressed Lady, inclosed in this solitarie place, tutcht with remorse of conscience, writes vnto the King of her distresse and miserable estate, vrging him by all meanes and perswasions, to cleere himselfe of this infamie, and her of the griefe of minde, by taking away her wretched life.

  IF yet thine eyes (great Henry) may endure

  These tainted lines, drawne with a hand impure,

  which faine would blush, but feare keepes blushes back,

  And therefore suted in dispayring black,

  This in loues name, ô that these lips might craue,

  But that sweet name (vile I) prophaned haue,

  Punish my fault, or pittie mine estate,

  Reade it for loue, if not for loue, for hate.

  If with my shame thine eyes thou faine wouldst feede,

  Heere let them surfeit, on my shame to reede;

  This scribled paper which I send to thee,

  If noted rightly, doth resemble mee;

  As this pure ground, whereon these letters stand,

  So pure was I, ere stained by thy hand;

  Ere I was blotted with this foule offence,

  So cleere and spotlesse was mine innocence.

  Now like these marks which taint this hatefull scroule,

  Such the black sinnes which spot my leprous soule,

  O Henry, why by losse thus should’st thou win?

  To get by conquest? to enrich with sinne?

  Why on my name this slaunder doost thou bring,

  To make my fault renowned by a King?

  Fame neuer stoopes to things but meane and poore,

  The more our greatnes, makes our fault the more.

  Lights on the ground, themselues doe lessen farre,

  But in the ayre, each small sparke seemes a starre.

  Why on a womans frailtie would’st thou lay

  This subtile plot, mine honour to betray?

  Or thy vnlawfull pleasure should’st thou buy

  with vile expence of kingly maiestie?

  Twas not my minde consented to this ill,

  Then had I beene transported by my will,

  For what my body was ensorst to doe,

  (Heauen knowes) my soule did not consent vnto;

  For through mine eyes had she her liking seene,

  Such as my loue, such had my Louer beene.