Collected Works of Michael Drayton

by Michael Drayton

  And when all this is done, I know twill grieue thee,

  And therefore (sweet) why should I now belieue thee?

  Nor should’st thou thinke those eyes with enuie lower,

  which passing by thee, gaze vp to thy tower;

  But rather praise thine owne which be so cleere,

  which from the Turret like two starres appeare;

  Aboue the sunne doth shine, beneath thine eye,

  Mocking the heauen to make another skye.

  The little streame which by thy tower doth glide,

  where oft thou spend’st the wearie euening tide,

  To view thee well his course would gladly stay,

  As loth from thee to part so soone away;

  And with salutes thy selfe would gladly greete,

  And offer vp those small drops at thy feete,

  But finding that the enuious banks restraine it,

  T’excuse it selfe, doth in this sort complaine it,

  And therefore this sad bubling murmur keepes,

  And in this sort within the channell weepes.

  And as thou doost into the water looke,

  The fish which see thy shadow in the brooke,

  Forget to feede, and all amazed lye,

  So daunted with the lustre of thine eye.

  And that sweet name which thou so much doost wrong,

  In time shall be some famous Poets song;

  And with the very sweetnes of that name,

  Lyons and Tygers, men shall learne to tame.

  The carefull mother from her pensiue brest

  with Rosamond shall bring her babe to rest;

  The little birds, (by mens continuall sonnd)

  Shall learne to speake, and prattle Rosamond,

  And when in Aprill they begin to sing,

  with Rosamond shall welcome in the spring;

  And she in whom all rarities are found,

  Shall still be sayd to be a Rosamond.

  The little flowers which dropping honied dew,

  which (as thou writ’st) doe weepe vpon thy shu•,

  Not for thy fault (sweet Rosamond) doe mone,

  But weepe for griefe that thou so soone art gone,

  For if thy foote tuch Hemlock as it goes,

  That Hemlock’s made more sweeter then the Rose,

  Of Ioue or Neptune how they did betray,

  Nor speake of I-o, or Amimone,

  when she for whom Ioue once became a Bull,

  Compar’d with thee, had beene a tawny trull;

  He a white Bull, and she a whiter Cow,

  Yet he, nor she, neere halfe so white as thou.

  Long since (thou knowst) my care prouided for•

  To lodge thee safe from iealous Ellenor,

  The Labyrinths conueyance guides thee so,

  (which onely Vahan, thou and I doe know)

  If she doe guard thee with a hundred eyes,

  I haue an hundred subtile Mercuries,

  To watch that Argus which my loue doth keepe,

  Vntill eye, after eye, fall all to sleepe.

  Those starres looke in by night, looke in to see,

  wondring what star heere on the earth should be.

  As oft the moone amidst the silent night,

  Hath come to ioy vs with her friendly light,

  And by the curtaine help’d mine eye to see

  what enuious night and darknes hid from mee;

  when I haue wish’d that she might euer stay,

  And other worlds might still enioy the day,

  what should I say? words, teares, and sighes be spent,

  And want of time doth further helps preuent:

  My campe resounds with fearefull shocks of war,

  Yet in my breast the worser conflicts are;

  Yet is my signall to the battailes sound,

  The blessed name of beautious Rosamond.

  Accursed be that hart, that tongue, that breath,

  Should thinke, should speake, or whisper of thy death.

  For in one smile, or lower from thy sweet eye,

  Consists my life, my hope, my victorie.

  Sweet Woodstocke, where my Rosamond doth rest,

  Blessed in her, in whom thy King is blest;

  For though in Fraunce a while my bodie be,

  (Sweet Paradice) my hart remaines in thee.

  Notes of the Chronicle Historie.

  Am I at home pursued with priuate hate,

  And warre comes raging to my Pallace gate?

  ROBERT Earle of Leicester, who tooke part with young King Henry, entred into England with an Armie of 3. thousand Flemmings, & spoiled the Countries of Norfolke and Suffolke, being succoured by manie of the Kings priuate enemies.

  And am I branded with the curse of Rome?

  King Henry the second, the first Plantaginet, accused for the death of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterburie, slaine in the Cathedrall Church, was accursed by Pope Alexander, although hee vrg’d sufficient proofe of his innocencie in the same, and offered to take vpon him any pennance, so he might escape the curse and interdiction of the Realme.

  And by the pride of my rebellious Sonne,

  Rich Normandie with Armies ouer-runne.

  Henry the young King, whom King Henry had caused to be crowned in his life, (as he hoped) both for his owne good and the good of his Subiects, which indeede turned to his owne sorrowe, and the trouble of the whole Realme, for he rebelled against him, and raising a power, by the meanes of Lewes King of Fraunce, and William king of Scots, who tooke part with him, inuaded Normandie.

  Vnkind my children, most vnkind my wife.

  Neuer King more infortunate then King Henry; in the disobedience of his children: first Henry, then Geffrey, then Richard, then Iohn, all at one time or other, first or last, vnnaturally rebelled against him: then the iealousie of Ellinor his Queene, who suspected his loue to Rosamond, which grieuous troubles, the deuout of those times, attributed to happen vnto him iustly, for refusing to take vppon him the gouernment of Ierusalem, offered vnto him by the Patriarcke there; which country was mightilie afflicted by the Souldane.

  Which onely Vahan thou and I doe know.

  This Vahan was a Knight whom the King exceedingly loued, who kept the Pallace at Woodstock, & much of the Kings iewels & treasure, to whom the King committed many of his secrets, & in whom he reposed such trust, that he durst commit his loue vnto his charge.

  FINIS.

  King Iohn to Matilda.

  THE ARGUMENT.

  After that King Iohn had assaied by all meanes possible, to win the faire & chast Matilda, to his vnchast and vnlawful bed, and by vniust courses and false accusation had banished the Lord Robert Fitzwater her noble Father, and many other of his allies, who iustlie withstoode the desire of this wanton King, seeking the dishonour of his faire and vertuous daughter; this chast Lady, still solicited by this lasciuious King, flies vnto Dunmowe in Essex, where in a Nunnery she becomes a Nunne, whether the King (still persisting in his sute) solicites her by his Epistle; her reply confirmes her vowed and inuincible chastitie, making knowne to the King her pure vnspotted thoughts.

  WHEN these my Letters come vnto thy view,

  Thinke them not forc’d, or saind, or strange, or new,

  Thou know’st no way, no meanes, no course exempted,

  Left now vnsought, vnproou’d, or vnattempted,

  All rules, regards, all secret helps of Art,

  what knowledge, wit, experience can impart;

  And in the old worlds Ceremonies doted,

  Good dayes for loue, times, howres, & minutes noted;

  And where Arte left, loue teacheth more to finde,

  By signes in presence to expresse the minde.

  Oft hath mine eye told thine eye, beautie grieu’d it,

  And begd but for one looke to haue relieu’d it,

  And still with thine eyes motion, mine eye mou’d,

  Labouring for mercy, telling how it lou’d.

  If blush’d, I blush’d, thy cheek
e pale, pale was mine,

  My red, thy red, my whitnes answered thine;

  If sigh’d, I sigh’d, alike both passion proue,

  But thy sigh is for griefe, my sigh for loue;

  If a word past, that insufficient were,

  To helpe that word, mine eyes let forth a teare,

  And if that teare did dull or sencelesse proue,

  My hart would fetch a sigh, to make it moue.

  Oft in thy face, one fauour from the rest

  I singled forth, that likes my fancie best;

  This likes me most, another likes me more,

  A third exceeding both those lik’d before;

  Then one that doth deriue all wonder thence,

  Then one whose rarenes passeth excellence.

  Whilst I behold thy Globe-like rowling eye,

  Thy louely cheeke (me thinks) stands smiling by

  And tels me, those but shadowes and supposes,

  And bids me thether come and gather Roses;

  Looking on that, thy brow doth call to mee

  To come to it, if wonders I will see

  Now haue I do•e, and now thy dimpled chin

  Againe doth tell me I but new begin,

  And bids me yet to looke vpon thy lip,

  Least wondring least, the great’st I ouerslip.

  My gazing eye, on this and this doth ceaze,

  which surfets, yet cannot desire appease.

  Then like I browne, (ô louely browne thy haire)

  Onely in brownenes, beautie dwelleth there.

  Then loue I blacke, thine eye-ball black as Iet,

  Then cleere, that ball is there in Christall set,

  Then white, but snow, nor swan, nor Iuorie please,

  Then are thy teeth more whiter then all these;

  In browne, in black, in purenes, and in white,

  All loue, all sweets, all rarenes, all delight;

  Thus thou vile theefe, my stolne hart hence doo’st carry,

  And now thou fliest into a Sanctuarie;

  Fie peeuish girle, ingratefull vnto nature,

  Did she to this end frame thee such a creature•

  That thou her glory should’st increase thereby,

  And thou alone doost scorne societie?

  Why, heauen made beauty like herselfe to view,

  Not to be lock’d vp in a smoky Mew,

  A rosy-tainted feature is heanens gold,

  which all men ioy to touch, all to behold.

  It was enacted when the world begun

  That so rare beautie should not liue a Nun.

  But if this vow thou needs wilt vndertake,

  O were mine armes a Cloister for thy sake,

  Still may his paines for euer be augmented,

  This superstition that at first inuented,

  Ill might he thriue, that brought this custome hether,

  That holy people might not liue together.

  A happy time, a good world was it then,

  when holy women, liu’d with holy men;

  But Kings in this, yet priuiledg’d may be,

  Ile be a Munke, so I may liue with thee.

  Who would not rise to ring the mornings knell,

  when thy sweet lips might be the sacring bell?

  Or what is he not willingly would fast,

  That on those lips, might feast his lips at last?

  Who vnto Mattens earely would not rise,

  That might reade by the light of thy faire eyes?

  On worldly pleasures who would euer looke,

  That had thy curles his beades, thy browes his booke?

  Wert thou the Crosse, to thee who would not creepe?

  And wish the Crosse, still in his armes to keepe.

  Sweet girle, Ile take this holy habite on mee,

  Of meere deuotion that is come vpon mee,

  Holy Matilda, thou the Saint of mine,

  Ile be thy seruaunt, and my bed thy shrine.

  When I doe offer, be thy brest the Altar,

  And when I pray, thy mouth shall be my Psalter.

  The beads that we will bid, shall be sweet kisses,

  which we will number, if one pleasure misses,

  And when an Auie comes to say Amen,

  we will begin, and tell them or’e againe,

  Now all good fortune giue me happy thrift,

  As I should ioy t’absolue thee after shrift.

  But see how much I doe my selfe beguile,

  And doe mistake thy meaning all this while,

  Thou took’st this vow to equall my desire

  Because thou wouldst haue me to be a Frier,

  And that we two should comfort one another,

  A holy sister, and a holy brother,

  Thou as a Votresse vnto me alone,

  Shee is most chast, that’s but enioyd of one.

  Yea, now thy true deuotion doe I find,

  And sure in this I much commend thy mind;

  Els heere thou doost but ill ensample giue,

  And in a Nunry thus thou shouldst not liue.

  Is’t possible the house that thou art in

  Should not be tucht, (though with a veniall sin)

  when such a she-priest comes her masse to say,

  Twenty to one they all forget to pray.

  wel may we wish they would their harts amend,

  when we be witnes that theyr eyes offend,

  All creatures haue desires, or else some lie,

  Let them thinke so that will, so will not I.

  Doost thou not thinke our auncestors were wise,

  That these religious Cels did first deuise?

  As Hospitalls were for the sore and sicke,

  These for the crook’d, the hault, the stigmatick,

  Least that their seede mark’d with deformitie,

  Should be a blemish to posteritie.

  Would heau’n her beautie should be hid from sight,

  Nere would she thus herselfe adorne with light,

  With sparkling lamps; nor would she paint her throne

  But she delighteth to be gaz’d vpon;

  And when the golden glorious sun goes downe,

  would shee put on her star-bestudded crowne;

  And in her masking sute the spangled skie,

  Come forth to bride it in her reuelrie;

  And gaue this gift to all things in creation,

  That they in this should imitate her fashion.

  All things that faire, that pure, that glorious beene,

  Offer themselues of purpose to be seene;

  In sinks and vaults, the vgly Toades doe dwell,

  The deuils since most vgly, they in hell;

  Our mother earth, nere glorious in her fruite,

  Till by the sun clad in her Tinsell sute.

  Nor doth shee euer smile him in the face,

  Till in his glorious armes he her embrace;

  which proues she hath a soule, sence, & delight

  Of generations feeling appetite.

  well hipocrite (in faith) wouldst thou confesse,

  what ere thy tongue say, thy hart saith no lesse.

  Note but this one thing, (if nought els perswade)

  Nature of all things male, and female made,

  Shewing herselfe in our proportion plaine,

  For neuer made she any thing in vaine;

  For as thou art, should any haue beene thus,

  Shee would haue left ensample vnto vs.

  The Turtle that’s so true and chast in loue,

  Shewes by her mate something the spirit doth moue,

  Th’arabian bird, that neuer is but one,

  Is onely chast because she is alone;

  But had our mother Nature made them two,

  They would haue done as Doues and Sparrowes doe,

  But therefore made a Martyr in desire,

  And doth her pennance lastly in the fire;

  So may they all be rosted quicke that be

  Apostataes to nature, as is shee.

  Find me but one, s
o young, so faire, so free,

  (woo’d, su’d, & sought, by him that now seekes thee)

  But of thy minde, and heere I vndertake

  Straight to erect a Nunry for her sake;

  O hadst thou tasted of these rare delights

  Ordaind each where to please great Princes sights,

  To haue their beauties, and their wits admird,

  (which is by nature, of your sexe desired)

  Attended by our traines, our pompe our port,

  Like Gods ador’d abroade, kneeld to in Court,

  To be saluted with the cheerefull cry,

  Of highnes, grace, and soueraigne maiestie;

  But vnto them that know not pleasures price,

  Al’s one, a prison, and a Paradice.

  If in a dungion, closd vp from the light,

  There is no difference twixt the day and night,

  whose pallate neuer tasted daintie cates,

  Thinks homely dishes princely delicates.

  Alas poore girle, I pitty thine estate,

  That now thus long hast liu’d disconsolate;

  Why now at length let yet thy hart relent,

  And call thy Father back from banishment;

  And with those princely honours heere inuest him

  That aukeward loue, not hate hath dispossest him.

  Call from exile, thy deere alies and friends,

  To whom the furie of my griefe extends;

  And if thou take my counsaile in this case,

  I make no doubt thou shalt haue better grace,

  And leaue that Dunmow, that accursed Cell,

  There let black night and melancholie dwell;

  Come to the Court, where all ioyes shall receiue thee,

  And till that howre, yet with my griefe I leaue thee.

  Notes of the Chronicle Historie.

  THIS Epistle of King Iohn to Matilda, is much more poeticall then historicall, making no mention at al of the occurrents of the time, or state, touching onely his loue to her, & the extremitie of his passions forced by his desires, rightly fashioning the humour of this king: as hath been truely noted by the best and most autenticall Writers; whose nature and disposition, is truliest discerned in the course of his loue; first iesting at the ceremonies of the seruices of those times, the¯ going about by all strong and probable arguments, to reduce her to pleasures and delights, next with promises of honor, which he thinketh to be last and greatest meane, & to haue greatest power in her sexe; with promise of calling home of her, freends, which he thought might be a great inducement to his desires.

  Matilda to King Iohn.