THE GHOST OF RICHARD THE THIRD.  

Expressing himself in these three Parts.  
1 His Character.  
2 His Legend.  
3 His Tragedy.   
Containing more of him then hath been heretofore showed,; either in Chronicles, Plays, or Poems.  Laurea Desidiae praebeturnulla. 
Printed by G. ELD: for L. LISLE: and are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard at the sign of the tigers head. 1614   

RICHARD THE THIRD. HIS CHARACTER, LEGEND, and TRAGEDY. Expressing more than heretofore, either Chronicle, Play, or Poem.  
Printed by Geo: Eld for Laurence Lisle, and are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard at the Tiger's-head, 1614   

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL SIR JOHN ●ROMPTON, KNIGHT; WITH HIS MOST WORTHY LADY, THE LADY FRANCES.  
SIR,  
MY simple disposition could never make cunning observance of any, whose deserts most bound me to their respect and honour; not more out of my Nature, than judgement; since commonly the world's obsequious Insinuations in Trifles, prove their obsequies of no more Importance. Nor can the weightiest duties, in my poor abilities, sway much more the Balance of the World; because the notice that the world takes of men's noble Loves to Virtue, and good Name, impresseth nothing the more, but oftentimes their les●e price in only profit and self-loving estimations. Notwithstanding, since I know your true Noblesse, out of the common way, in all honoured Inclination to the acceptance, and grace of Goodness; I have been bold to publish this Poem (intending allurement to Goodness, by deterring from her contrary) to your right generous countenance, and graceful protection: Wherein, lest a single and consortles●e disposition might perhaps grow cold, by the too many companions that encourage the death of it to all respect of unprofitable Virtue; You have taken into your Bo●ome so free and gracious a love to it in my most honoured Lady; that the comfortable and nourishing flame of it, can never want fuel to maintain and keep it ever at full. To both whose one-light, for the direction, and progression of all good Endeavours, belonging and consecrate to all true Worthiness and Dignity; I offer this well-meaning Material; hoping that such as have no matter to judge it, shall be far from inclining your Apprehensions to condemn it: And rather establish, then diminish in you virtues increasing encouragement. To which, in all resolved service, I humbly submit; ever abiding, and desiring to my utmost, your most respected commandment.  
C. B.   

The Epistle to the Reader.  
AN Epistle to the Reader is as ordinary before a new Book, as a Prologue to a new Play; but as Plays are many times exploded, though the Prologue be never so good, and promising; So (Reader) if thou findest not stuff, in this Poem, to fit thy humour: If the wit with the fashion, hold not some tolerable proportion; this Enducement (though near so formal and obsequious) would little prevail with thy acceptation, but thou wouldst conjure my Ghost down again, before his time, or torment him upon earth, with the hell-fire of thy displeasure. Therefore it matters not whether I humour thee with complement, or insinuate with glozing Epithets. I know (in a play or Poem) thou lik'st best of Satirical stuff; though perhaps thou seest therein thine own Character; and not without some show of Reason are things bitter, the better: For the Gluttonous Senses (the Eye and Ear) so cloyed and surfeited, with variety of effeminate pleasures; the rough Satire doth sometimes not unfitly interpose such Courtly delight, which growing a Burden to itself, his intermixed vain with the others vanity, gives intermission to the humour, and proves no less tasteful to the Gallants judgement, then tart sauce to whet his dulled appetite. And of this kind I have interlaced something, naturally rising out of my subject; where (by way of prevention) if any shall object that I have not amplified the Legend to the full scope of the Story; I answer; I should then have made the volume too great, to the discouragement of the Buyer, and disadvantage of the Printer; let it suffice I have the substance, if not the circumstance; and when I undertook this I thought with myself: That to draw Arguments of Invention from the Subject, new, and probable, would be far more plaucible to the time, the● by insisting upon narrations (made so common in Plays, and so notorious among all men) have my Labour slighted, and my Pen taxed for trivial. The Generous Censor (as he is Ingenious or Ingenuous) I reverence; likewise the Critic (as he is knowing, and learned) but when his censure shall be levelled with neither of his good parts, but favour more of Spleen, than Brain; of Disease, than judgement I do heartily appeal from him, with all of that faction; And though many did inly wish, that this (not the meanest Issue of my Brain) might have proved an Abortive, and seen no comfortable light; Yet they see it is borne, and (without prejudice to Nature) with Teeth too, to oppose theirs, that shall open their lips to deprave me; but whether to lie upon the Parish, or the Printers hand that rests in clouds; howsoever, I have got sheets to lie in, (though they be but course) and am sure to be cherished in good Letters▪ if I be entertained in the world, and prove a companion for the many, I know I shall not be much chargeable; if not, yet this is my comfort, there will be some use made of me in this land of waste; In which Resolution, I set up my Rest.  
Thine if thou wilt.   


To his Ingenuous, and much loved Friend, the Author.  
YOu now amids our Muses Smithfield are  
To sell your Pegasus, where Hackney ware  
(Rid by the swish swash Rippiers of the Time,  
Pampered and fronted with a Ribbon Rhyme)  
Though but some half Hour sound tried, they tire,  
Yet sell, as quickened with Eternal Fire.  
All things are made for sale; sell man and all  
For sale, to Hell: There is no Soul, to sale.  
Your flippant sence-delighter, smooth, and fine,  
Fired with his Bush Muse, and his sharp Hedge Wine,  
Will sell like good old Gascoine. What does then  
Thy Purple in grain, with these Red-ochre men?  
Swarth Chimney sweep, that to his Horn doth sing,  
More Custom gets; then in the Thespian Spring,  
The thrice bathed Singer to the Delphian Lyre,  
Though all must needs be rid here; yet t' aspire  
To common sale, with all turne-seruing jades,  
Fits Panders, and the strong voiced Fishwife Trades.  
Affect not that then, and come welcome forth,  
Though to some few, whose welcome's something worth  
Not one, not one (says Perseus) will read mine;  
Or two, or none; 'Tis Pageant Orsadine  
That goes for gold in your Barbarian Rate,  
You must be pleased then to change gold for that.  
Might I be Pattern to the meavest few  
Even now when hairs of Women-hated-hew  
Are withered on me; I delight to see  
My Lines thus desolately live like me,  
Not any thing I do, but is like Nuts  
At th' ends of Meals left; when each Appetite gluts.  
Some Poet yet can level you a Verse  
At the Receipt of Custom; that shall Pierce  
A sale Assister; as if with one Eye  
He went a Birding; strikes Fowls as they fly,  
And has the very Art of Foulerie.  
Which Art you must not envy; be you pleased  
To hit Desert; fly others, as diseased,  
Whose being pierced, is but to be infected;  
And as bold Puritans (esteemed elected)  
Keep from no common Plague, which so increases;  
So these feed all Poetical Diseases.  
Best Air, lest dwellers hath; yet think not I  
Forespeak the sale of thy sound Poesy;  
But would in one so worth encouragement  
The care of what is counted worst, prevent;  
And with thy cheerful going forth with this;  
Thy Muse in first Rank of our Muses is.  Non datur ad Musas currere lata via. 
GEOR.: CHAPMAN.   

To his worthy and ingenious Friend the Author.  
SO far as can a Swain (who then a Round  
On Oaten-pipe no further boasts his skill)  
I dare to censure the shrill Trumpets sound,  
Or other Music of the Sacred hill:  
The popular applause, hath not so fell  
(Like Nile's loud Cataract) possessed mine ears  
But others songs I can distinguish well,  
And chant their praise, despised Virtue rears;  
Nor shall thy buskined Muse be heard alone  
In stately Palaces; the shady woods  
By me shall learned, and Echho's one by one  
Teach it the hills, and they the silver floods.  
Our learned Shepherds that have used tofore  
Their happy gifts in notes that woo the plains,  
By rural ditties will be known no more;  
But reach at Fame by such as are thy strains.  
And I would gladly, (if the Sister's spring  
Had me enabled) bear a part with thee,  
And for sweet groves, of brave Heroes sing,  
But since it fits not my weak melody  
It shall suffice that thou such means dost give  
That my harsh lines among the best may live.  
W. BROWNE. Int: Temp.   

Ad Lectorem de Libro.  
HIc nihil invenies quod carpas; mentior; ecquid  
Carpere quod pigeat, tam bonus Hortus habet?  
Hinc carpat, quisquis gratos vult carpere Flores;  
At Dextrà carpat, carpere si quis amat,  FR. DYNNE. Int: Temp:  

To his friend the Author upon his Poem.  
NOt for thy Love to me, nor other merit,  
Do I commend thy Poem's form or Spirit,  
For though I know thou art a Friend of mine,  
I praise this for it own sake, not for thine.  
Here have I seen Charactered the Condition  
The Life and End, of a mere Politician;  
From which, I learn; 'tis no good Policy  
On any terms to part with Honesty.  
And the Oppressed may view (to his content)  
How sweet it is to be an Innocent.  
Or by contraries learn with what dear rest,  
The Souls of harmless dying men are blest.  
So may the bloody Tyrant here attend,  
What Horror and Despair pursues his End.  
And those that (living) loathe their faults to hear,  
May (reading this) perhaps repent for fear.  
Since though reproofs they scorn now here they dwell,  
Thus their own Ghosts proclaim their shames from Hell.  
George withers.   

To the Author upon his Poem.  
I know thou art t●● knowing to inquire  
This Title to thy Praise, which doth require  
A heart so constant, and a Brow so chaste,  
That virtue must not fall, how e'r● low placed,  
Who this way merits 〈◊〉, must look to bring  
Only a Flower to an intemp'rate Spring;  
Which hows●e ' 〈…〉  
Must feel the earthbred Blasts in barren wants,  
Of ruder Elements oft suffering spoil,  
To show such Herbs grow not on natural soil,  
Nor can't be aptlier said of Verse, and Rhymes  
They are but Strangers to these wavering Times;  
For as men shift their fashions for new Shapes;  
They are in Souls the same (Inconstant Apes)  
Which each Bookseller knows; for as to day,  
Your Pasquil like a madcap runs away;  
To morrow Plays; the next day History;  
Mor strange another time, Divinity:  
And in my Age (which is indeed most rare)  
I have known Gallants buy up Books of Prayer;  
But they were Gamesters, losing a●l in swearing  
Tried a contrary way in their uprearing:  
To this my common observation, Thou  
Hast took a course (which I must needs allow)  
T' include them all in one, to catch their Eyes,  
That soon are dymed without variety's;  
Wherein I will not flatter thee to tell,  
there's much of good; and what is worst, is well.  
ROBERT DABORNE.   

To his friend the Author upon his Richard.  
WHen these, and such, their voices have employed;  
What place is for my testimony void?  
Or, to so many, and so Broadseals had,  
What can one witness, and a weak one, add  
For such a work, as could not need theirs? Yet  
If Praises, when theyare full, heaping admit,  
My suffrage brings thee all increase, to crown  
Thy Richard, raised in song, past pulling down.  BEN: JONSON.   
THE GHOST OF RICHARD THE THIRD.  

His Character.  

WHat Magic, or what Fiends infernal hand,  
Rears my tormented Ghost from Orcus' Flame?  
And lights my Conscience, with her burning Brand,  
Through Death, and Hell, to view the World's fair Frame?  
Must I again regreet my Native Land,  
Whose Graves resound the horror of my Name?  
Then gasp those Marble jaws; and Birds of Night,  
Perplex my passage to the loathed Light.   

Some Consciences, with souls, may hope for Peace,  
When all their venial, and their petty Crimes  
Are expiate, but mine will never cease;  
T'augment my Torment, past all Worlds and Time;  
Damned deeds in life, damned penance doth increase;  
men's souls may fly their bodies putrid climes;  
But horrid pains still cleave to foul offence;  
Nor will the sin forsake the Conscience.  
Give way Times Pageants; Bubbles, but a Blast;  
Objects for idle spirits, whose vanity  
Feed Streams of Humours, in this Sea of Waste;  
Where Carpet Courtlings swim in Bravery;  
Such Comic Puppets are not Things to last;  
Subjects unfit for Fame, or Memory;  
But Time, nor Age, can parallel, or stain  
My Bloody scenes, which Death hath died in grain.   

Vale Natures ●urselings; Fortunes Favourites;  
Whose percell-guylt, my Touch will not endure;  
Fostrers of Fools, and glib-tongued Parasites;  
Sick of Time's Lethargy; past hope of Cure;  
chameleons in your Change of gaudy Sights;  
How wanton Salmasis with Lust impure  
Cleaves to your souls? proves ye of two fold Kind,  
Male in the Body; Female in the Mind?   

Wallow in Waste, still jet in sumptuous Weeds;  
Wave feathered Gulls with Wind: & shrink with Rain,  
Buskined ye are but not for lofty deeds;  
No stately Matter e'er inspired your Brains;  
Nought but soft Love, your great Ambition Feeds;  
None sensible of Pleasure; but of Pain  
Must look on me; such whose high Thoughts are fed,  
With spirit, and Fame, from dust of Bodies, dead.   

Think Ye that Graves, and hollow Vaults inherit  
Nought but Oblivion, and Impotence?  
Doth not from Death arise an other spirit,  
Of high Resolve th'extracted Quintessence?  
Fame is the Agent to substantial merit,  
And bears about the World's Circumference  
All deeds notorious; which Time remembers;  
Thus Phoenix like, Life springs from downtrod E●●bers   

Then as th' Almighty Thunderer doth shake,  
(With self-bred Fumes) th'Immense and Massy Earth;  
No less amazement may my Fury make  
In my Lives horror, from my Monstrous Birth:  
And since I'm raised from Hell's burning Like,  
I'll fright the World▪ and chase all Forms of Mirth,  
From this now Mimic and ridiculous stage;  
I sing of Murder, Tyranny, and Rage.   

Then let the Cankered Trumpets of the Deep;  
Proclaim my Entrance, to this stagie Round;  
That I may startle Worldlings from their sleep,  
Their senses in security fast bound:  
My Tongue in fiery Dragon's Spleen I steep,  
That Acts, with Accents, Cruelty may ●ound;  
As once the Furies snakes hist in my Breath,  
When I kissed Horror; and engendered Death.   

And that my Devilish Brain may not be dull,  
But touch the quick of each ambitious Soul,  
I take the Wittiest Politicians Skull,  
That ever Hell's black Book did yet enroll;  
His Mazor filled with Stygian juice brym-full,  
And innocent Blood, fit for an Ebon Bowl,  
I quaff to all damned spirits, and I know well  
They'll pledge me, though they drink as deep as Hell.   

All ye then that are fleshed in Tyranny,  
View me, your ruthless Precedent and Mirror;  
Now all Earth's glew●d together villainy,  
Dissolve, and melt, with pale, and ghastly Terror:  
Lo I unclasp the Book of Memory,  
Rouse bedrid Age, fowl sin, and smooth faced error,  
And with all these awake Antiquity,  
To sing my Actions to Posterity.   

In my Conception, Nature strove with Kind;  
When in the hea●e of Blood, and Lust's desire,  
Imagination moved (a part of Mind)  
And with the Seed commixed an ardent Fire;  
A strange Effect, these Powers should be combined,  
The Mortal, with th' Immortail Part Conspire  
To form a Prodigy, the World to fright,  
To blemish Humans, and distain the Light.   

For Why, my Mother in the strength of Thought,  
Proposed unto her Apprehensive power,  
Some monstrous Birth, by Nature's Error wrought,  
On which all Planets of good luck did lower;  
My Sire, Corruption to this Fancy brought;  
My Mother languished many a tedious hour;  
Travel brought Sweat, and Groans; She longed to see,  
Her burth'nous Fraught; at last She brought forth Me.   

My Legs came foremost; an unequal Pair;  
Much like the Badgers, that makes swiftest speed  
In ways uneven: which show'd that no course fair  
Should crown my Life, and actions to succeed:  
Hollow my Cheeks; upon my Breast, black Hair,  
The Characters of spleen and virulent deeds;  
My Beetle-Brow, and my fire-cyrcled Eye,  
Foreshowed me Butcher, in my Cruelty.   

Then as a Brow bend Hill, much undermined,  
Casts scowling Shadows, o'er the neighbouring Plains,  
Which th'approchers fear, as being inclined  
To bury all, his spacious Reach contains,  
So Mountainlike was I contract behind;  
That my stretched Arms (plump with ambitious veins)  
Might crush all Obstacles, and throw them down,  
That stood betwixt my Shadow and a Crown.   

And as a ravens Beak, pointed to the South  
Crokes following Ill, from sharp and ravenous maw;  
Such cry York's Bird sent from a fatal mouth;  
Boding confusion to each wight I saw.  
To add to these (as Token of more Ruth)  
Th'amazed Women started; for each jaw  
Appeared with teeth; which Mark made these Ills, good;  
That I should woorry Souls; suck human Blood.   

My Father raved; my Mother cursed her Womb;  
Th'imprisoned winds shook Earth, 
〈…〉  & burst their Caves;  
And Time (swollen big with sad Events to come)  
Did send forth Throes, echoed by gasping Graves;  
The Lights of Heaven, dropped on the world's dark Tomb;  
Horror invades the Main, whose raging Waves  
Do foam, and swell above their bounds (the Earth)  
These fatal Signs reigned at my fearful Birth.   

In progress of my Childhood; with delight  
I taught my Nature to see Fowls to bleed;  
Then at the Slaughter-house with hungry sight,  
Upon slain Beasts my sensual part did feed;  
And (that which gentler Natures might affright)  
I searched their entrails, as in them to read  
(Like th'Ancient Ba●ds) what fate should thence be●ide,  
To cherish Sin, and propagate my Pride.   

Then (as I waxed in Maturity)  
I would frequent the Sessions, and those Places  
Where guilty Men received their dooms to Die;  
As well to note the Gestures, and the Graces  
Of those were cast; as of the judges Eye;  
How these look pale; the others Front outfaces  
E'en death it self, and hence I learned how  
To conquer Pity, with a bended Brow.   

Now (to confirm these Notions in my Brain  
And to chase thence, all Natural Forms of Good)  
To press to Executions soothed my vain,  
To see men reeking in their Sweat, and Blood;  
O how remorseless was I of their Pain!  
It was my Cordial, and my nourishing ●ood:  
These ruthless Thoughts, were in my heart so rise,  
That I could laugh at Death, and sport with Life.   

A● Butchers and loathed Hangmen, in their Life;  
(Through Bent of Mind, and instrumental parts)  
Being often used unto the bloody Knife,  
Make Blood, and Death, the habits of their Hearts:  
And therefore since with them, such Acts are ri●e,  
The Laws of Kind (in lieu of their deserts)  
exempted have from Life and Death's stern jewries,  
Who (for their Natures) might well rank with Furies.   

So this habitual Custom, ever breeds,  
Such fixed impression in th'Affects, and Sense;  
That thence the Mind receives Corruptive Seeds,  
Nor doth sincerely take the difference  
Twixt Cruel actions, and compassionate deeds;  
So Man, and Beast, with Guilt, and Innocence,  
Are all alike to Tyrants, in their sways;  
Where sensual Will commands; and not obeys.   

Thus as Contagious Air breeds some disease,  
Which all unseen creeps on in fowl infection;  
Till at the at the vital parts it cease,  
And in his Mortal kind, attains perfection:  
So by Corruption of such Thoughts as these:  
And giving way to Humour and Affection,  
Pernicious Ills increased; and thus I found  
How Pity lost, and Cruelty won her Ground.   

Now, for I knew great spirits in Ignorance,  
Were far unfit to sway, or to Command:  
Since cunning Arts, do politic Ends advance,  
I sought to join their Strengths into one Band;  
And (t'arme myself against the Threats of Chance)  
I gave myself corruptly t'understand  
Letters, and Arts, who●e superficial Skill,  
Might lay the Ground, to propagate my iii.   

Hence were my Organs apt, and Parts disposed  
To give my Intellect, the Forms of Things:  
Hence was the Chaos of my Brain disclosed,  
That through each sense, conue●'d their hidden springs;  
Their winding Streams yet, in my Sea were Closed;  
Which made me swell in state, and surge with Kings;  
Yet with no Line, or Plummet, to be sounded;  
Nor in no Limit, but a Crown, be bounded.   

In my Designs, I bore no wexen face,  
To take the Print of any Forms within;  
I had a Forge, that tempered it like Brass;  
Not by my Tongue, my heart was known, or seen;  
Between these two there was so ample space,  
That Words and Thoughts, were never of a kin;  
With Threats I could all●e, smile, when I frowned;  
Kiss, when I killed, and heal, when I did wound.   

From Schoole-mens Customs, I observed some Skill;  
What's their nice Learning, and their wrangling S●r●fe,  
But Gain or Glory, to turn Good to Ill;  
As if from Reason▪ Passion we derive?  
Then since these En●s, in Sciences reign still;  
And few profess them for an after Life,  
As they took swinge then from their Politic schools  
So I took Licence from their Positive Rules.   

What Midas touched turned Gould, such learning's use,  
For like the Spider, and Industrious be,  
What one makes Good, the other turns t'abuse;  
Such was the Nature of my Subtlety:  
With Good, and Ill, so played I fast and loose,  
Converting Things of most Indifferency,  
To the peculiar Habit of my mind,  
And to my forecast thought all others blind.   

I did allow of Colleges, and Schools  
And learned their Logical distinction;  
Yet I perceived the greatest Clerks but Fools,  
In judgement, raw; weak, in Prevention,  
I heard their Lectures, could digest their Rules,  
And make good use of their Division,  
Yet like to Wards, in Nonage still I held them,  
Though they were witty, yet could Wisdom wield them.   

Religion I professed (as most men saw)  
But in my heart denied it Reverence;  
For I esteemed it as a Penal Law,  
To curb, and keep Men in obedience;  
Yet from her Ground, such Notions I would draw,  
To touch my Wished point of Eminence,  
That, I, in others, would exact her Breach;  
As Great Ones in their lives such Doctrine teach.   

Arts raise their Collumnes upon Nature's Bases;  
And but observe, and play, what She propounds,  
And every Act of science enterlaces  
Humours, and Mirth, among their scenes profound,  
But Cunning only, is the Art that graces;  
And most affects, in this Conspicuous Round;  
Which having shown, with Fame we part the stage,  
And others enter, moved with self same Rage.   

I saw it was a Work of Nature's Kind,  
Ambitiously to prick-men on to state:  
By Force, or Cunning to make way, or Wind  
Through any Course, whose End might make them Great  
Humanity (by good sense I did find)  
To be compact of power, and ●lye Deceats,  
Proposing Rules to our own wish in Fortune,  
Thus each Man's selfe-good, did him most importune.   

All aim at Wealth, or Pomp, so catch at Fame,  
virtue's invisible, therefore not known:  
Few Love Her, for herself, but for her Name.  
Yet what's without us, we would have our own:  
And Honour (being usurped by virtues Claim)  
Seems but an Accident, in Virtue grown;  
If Accidents by substance only live,  
Take virtue from us, what can Honour give.   

I was not one of Virtues fond Approvers,  
That Courted her Imaginary Face,  
I saw her Servants and her doting Lovers  
Were poor, and bare, exempt from State, or Place;  
I saw that he, her Colours that discovers,  
And bears th'opinion only of her Grace,  
Did make most show▪ with Truth to be entire;  
To be, is vain, to seem, men most desire.   

It was not in my Days, as once of old,  
When Virtue had the World's fair Empery,  
Then was that innocent Time the Age of Gold,  
Whose Coin, was Truth, whose stamp, Integrity,  
Now moneys love, proves us of base Mould;  
For as the Ages fell successively,  
From Gold to Silver, thence to Brass, now worse,  
So men translate their chief good to the Purse.   

He that insinuates with Policy,  
That Hats and Hearts, with admiration draws:  
That shadows Tyrannous Thoughts, with Clemency;  
And keeps his height with populare applause,  
Intycles Goodness, with Prosperity,  
And makes his Acts authentical, as Laws,  
Proves, Actions fortunate, though near so vile,  
To get the Type of ●ame, and virtues Style.   

Then each Man's Deeds hath praise, his Actions, Grace,  
If squared by Form, and ru'ld by Imitation,  
And Honour, got by Blood▪ by Wealth, or Place,  
Will hold his die i● glossed by Ostentation;  
But where both Truth, and Colours want, all's base:  
Then if we use the Virtue most in Fashion,  
Honour attends v●, Grace will never swerver;  
All strive to have, but few men to deserve.   

Clours, not Truth then, win the World's reward;  
For like th'obsequious, mercenary Mind,  
Few love the Merit all affect Reward;  
And so for Currant, Counterfeits are Covned:  
Then no Ascent so steep, no Door so ba●'d;  
But he that with Deceit the World can blind,  
May make his way (though straddling in his Gate)  
Through Heads uncovered to the Chair of state.   

And such was I: for Wit, and Fortune make  
Crooked Things strait, to these Opinion cleaves;  
Which Alchemy, for Currant Gold doth take;  
And like the busy spinner ever Weaves  
'Slight Webs of Praise, and all for Greatness sake:  
And thus we see how sly Deceit, deceives  
The credulous Rout, Whose suffrage (though but Breath)▪  
Yet from that Air, Greatness takes Life, or Death.   

Proud of this Knowledge I screwed into the state,  
And of that Nature got intelligence;  
There saw I public Fortunes private hate,  
In several tempers of impatience.  
One stirs too soon, and brings on his hard sat,  
Others subdue with time and providence:  
Some mix their bloods to gain them powerful friends,  
And by that means work safest to their ends.   

I saw in Friendship Virtue best did suit;  
In Factions, power, and the most politic Head,  
Since it can only plot, not execute;  
With meaner Fortunes, best was seconded;  
Some Wise, some Valtant, some of base repute;  
And all like several simples tempered;  
Which well prepared by a projecting Brain,  
Give Greatness strength, Ambitious hopes maintain.   

I noted Statesmen, in their Agitations,  
How they dispatched suitors that implored them;  
The Followers of their Fortunes, and their Fashions,  
How like to demi-gods they did adore them;  
I saw (in offered Cause of several Passions)  
With what unmoved Countenance they bore them;  
Grief, cast not down, joy, spritned not their Eyes;  
Rage, bent no Brow, their very Fear seemed wise.   

This taught my spleen should never open too fast,  
That policy's not sound, if full of P●ares;  
What's violent in Ambition will not last;  
The Ford is shallow'st, where the Channel roars;  
I saw by them, 'twas wain to spend my Blast:  
For first we must take in, than shut the Doors,  
And but by secret Posterns, to convey  
Our Aims by close, and undiscovered way.   

I learned likewise, t'appease an Enemy,  
In Terms, without Hostility and War;  
To win an Agent, without jealousy,  
And make him tractable, and Regular,  
To hold Affection in Confederacy  
Without Expense, and to prevent, or bar  
Seditious Tumults without violence;  
And keep Men, longing, still in Patience.   

To get close Friends about a Foreign Prince,  
To further home designs with Secrecy,  
And (to relieve the private State Expense)  
Make public Purses fill the Treasury:  
In this they used Nature's Intelligence;  
That as the clouds do render plenteously,  
The Sun exhaled Steames, to Earth's increase;  
So subjects change base dross, for wealthy peace.   

This is the Wisdom (saith the ancient saw)  
That rules the Stars; outworks the Wheel of Chance;  
And from this Model did I seek to draw  
Sound Principles, my Hopes with Haps t'advance:  
And as ill manners first made soundest Law;  
So these Instructions chase Ignorance;  
Mine own corrupt Ends prompted me t'acquire  
Not Laws to curb, but Ground● orks to aspire.   

Also in counsel, I observed and noted  
How 〈◊〉, took Fire, and Blaze  
From others Light, Whose Innocent Margins quoted  
From their Originals, did win them Praise:  
How some by Grace sat; Some again that doted  
Through feeble Age; (yet traced in Politic ways)  
Could help defects, and see with others eyes;  
Extract their Wits, and make themselves seem wise.   

These (like the Others) laboured not to sound  
The depth of Things; but fraught with Burden light,  
They sayl●d more shallow, near unto the Ground;  
And at the Tides return, discharged their Freight:  
In quest of G●arie, all their Strengths were bound:  
Not Matter, but the circumstance more sleight  
They touched at still; whose ma●● Intents and Hopes,  
Were ●o involve their Aims, in sounder Scopes.   

Yet did this Mixture of Variety,  
(Like melting Ha●le, and solid Pearl, or Stone)  
Seem like the Elements in Quality;  
Assembled by a Disproportion:  
For as their jars work on Humanity;  
And make sweet Music, in Confusion;  
So Statesmen joined in one, unlike in Parts;  
One Body prove, one life, in several Hearts.   

B●t as the Planets have a proper sway,  
And move to Heaven (that turns them) contrary;  
So I, from all, drew a peculiar way,  
To right myself 'gainst Nature's Injury;  
For since She so mishapped my Body's Clay,  
I laboured in my Minds Deformity  
To mock her Work, She made me like to none,  
Therefore I thought to be myself alone.   

And as yourself loved Politics, ne'er care  
What Tempests vulgar Vessels do betide,  
So that their mighty Argosies may share  
Their ruin'd States, made Prize 〈◊〉 their Pride:  
So in the Ship of state, my self did far;  
(Driu'n with Ambition's Gale, and swelling Tide)  
I forced no public wrack; no private Fall,  
So I might rule and reign sole Lord of All.   

Thus have I Charactered my spirit and state  
In general Terms; next shall Ye hear applied  
The sequel of mine Actions, to that Fate,  
Which Heaven ordained, as justice to my Pride:  
This my Praeludium; now I must relate  
My Life, in horrid sins diversified:  
There note how saile-hoyst Barks incur a shel●e,  
When Greatness, would be greater, than it self.   
FINIS.   

THE LEGEND OF RICHARD THE THIRD.  

TO him that Imped my Fame with Clio's Quill;  
Whose Magic raised me from Oblivions den;  
That writ my Story on the Muse's Hill;  
And with my Actions Dignified his Pen:  
He that from Heltcon sends many a Rill;  
Whose Nectared Veins, are drunk by thirsty Men:  
Crowned be his Style, with Fame; his Head, with Bays;  
And none detract, but gratulate his Praise.   

Yet if his Scenes have not engrossed all Grace,  
The much famed Action could extend on Stage;  
If Time, or Memory, have left a place  
For Me to fill; t'inform this Ignorant Age;  
To that intent I show my horrid Face;  
Impressed with Fear, and Characters of Rage:  
Nor Wits, nor Chronicles could ere contain,  
The Hell-deep Reaches, of my soundlesse Brain.   

Then hear Ambitious men, Souls drowned in senses,  
And ever dry in quenchless thirst of Glory:  
And ye that have no ears (ye hearts of Princes)  
Measure your pomp by process of my story:  
There is a Fate your boundless hope convinces,  
Though nought confine ye in this transitory:  
Those that climb high in mischief rip'st of all,  
Have still the feareful'st and most rotten fall.   

What time my father York began his claim,  
Whence civil, and uncivil Arms did grow:  
When purple gore dewed many a fertile Plain,  
And swords made furrows, English hearts to sow,  
When sons by sires, and sires by sons were slain;  
And England's Commonweal a common woe:  
When Heaven reigned Vengeance; a Hell sulphur & spewed,  
And every Age and sex those sad times rued.   

ay, though too young as then to manage steel,  
(Yet in my thoughts the Theory of Arms)  
My swelling veins and feeble nerves did feel,  
The emulation of those hot Alarms.  
My Glories thirst made Appetite so reel,  
Between my peaceful state and boisterous storms:  
That in the heat and fervour of desire,  
I 〈◊〉 on Nature and set Blood on fire.   

My father's sword or title set on foot,  
Whose Fate grown ripe he dropped to Earth and perished:  
But we the Sons, (green branches of his root)  
Th'aspiring virtue of his Hopes still cherish●,  
I and my Brother held in swift poursuit  
The royal Game; whose thoughts were jointly nourished  
With the possession of that chased prize,  
As for a Crown who would not Nimrodize.   

Now (seconded with Right, and warres●aire ●aire merits)  
I mixed my blood with gall, my spleen with ire:  
here I began to joutalize my spirit,  
Midst thundering shock, dar●ing Cyclopian fire,  
Fame pricked us on to that we were t' inherit,  
And we made way through blood, nor could retire,  
Till on the Rubbish of our Enemy,  
We reared the Ensign of our victory.   

Then was the Kingly Lion 
* 〈…〉  held at bay  
Coopt in the Tower; whose Lioness raged in vain:  
To rescue, or redeem our purchased prey,  
I pitched more toils wherein her whelp was ta'en,  
Edward her fair Son (glory of the day)  
My han● eclipsed with foul and bloody stain:  
A murder, that might make the Sarres to wink,  
The fixed Poles to shake, and Atlas shrink.   

Next (to secure our parts from Henri●s side)  
The By being barred, the chance fell on the Main,  
And damned Policy, instructed Pride.  
To stretch my Conscience to a higher Strain:  
The Devil whispered, that my hands not died  
In Henry's Gore, my hope to rise was vain:  
My Swords sharp point brought his Quietus est,  
Which levelled to his heart, sent Him to Rest.   

Hence cruel Thoughts took Root, and overspread  
My Syn-manured Soil, Nature● shapeless Frame;  
The Ground grew Rank, with Blood and Murder fed;  
And fearless Impudence, checked blushing Shame;  
I cherished Tyranny, struck Pity dead,  
My Rage, like Salamander, lived in Flame,  
And e'en as Drink, doth keep the Dropsy, Dry;  
So more I Drunk, the more Desire did Fry.   

Yet now (secure) Edward enjoyed the Crown,  
Wars stern Alarms here began to cease;  
Banks, turned to Pillows; Fields to Beds of Down,  
And Boisterous Arms, to silken Robes of Peace;  
Wars Counsellor resumed the States-mans●owne ●owne,  
And welcomed Bliss grew big with all increase,  
Wealth followed Peace, and Ease succeeded Plenties,  
And needful Cates, were turned to wanton Dainties.   

Now Mars his Brood, were chained to women's Locks;  
Surgeons, and Leeches, used for Venus' Harms:  
They that erst lived by Wounds now thrive byth' Pox,  
For smoothest Pleasure, still ensues rough Arms;  
Whiles I, gryned like a Wolf, liered like a Fox,  
To see soft Men, turned swine, by Circe's Charms,  
And being not shaped for Love, employed my Wits,  
In subtle Wiles, ● exceed these humorous Fits.   

O how I bit my Tongue when Edward wived!  
That (with the rest) forced Shouts of, God give joy;  
When to the Centre of my heart there dived  
Curses, and rankorous wishes to destroy;  
My hopes grew Dead; Yet (Hydra-like) survived  
Fresh Heads of Strength, which Mischief did employ,  
And my smooth Gen●us soothed me in the Ear,  
That Blood, would Sanguine the pale Cheek of fear.   

While wanton Edward dotes on Mistress Shore,  
Whose Lust, and Trifling, soiled the face of Things,  
And Coun●eilors (like Panders) kept the Door,  
My Thoughts were climbing to the State of Kings:  
He, painted Beauty; I, did Crowns adore;  
And ever Imped Ambitions Airy Wings,  
To reach at Fame, and Fortune, which might crown  
Hope, with success; and Wit with Fame's Renown.   

And even as he (with an Insatiate sight)  
Beheld a beauteous Face, a sparkling Eye,  
Admired a pleasant wit (as loves delight)  
And still adored Cupid's Deity:  
So I (enslamed with Glories Appetite)  
Did Court the shining Beams of Majesty,  
Prized Policy, Altars to Fortune reared,  
He, studied to be loved; I, to be feared.   

Clarence his Life in Fortune's tickle wheel  
Had now a slippery Stand; for (dreadless) He  
In sound Estate of Health, began to recle,  
(As Nature's power must yield to Tyranny)  
My Adamant had pointed to his Steel,  
And subtly drew him to his Destiny:  
I had a Craft, to undermine each State,  
My Engines, were the Instruments of Fate.   

For why, an Ignorant Wizard, taught by Me,  
That never knew a Letter in the Row  
From his Spelled Lesson, took the Letter G,  
To work my rising, and his overthrow:  
And by a foolish childish prophesy,  
(As Fools and children still tell all they know)  
Insinuates with the fearful King, that G,  
Should put to death his Royal Progeny.   

So harmless Clarence superstitiously  
In sent to close Death to the Fatal Tower;  
But I that charmed, fulfilled the Augury,  
So Politics kill far off with unseen power,  
With sheathed Points I wrought my Tyranny;  
Thus could I whet, prepare, feed, and devour,  
Concoct, Evacuate, with most nimble haste,  
Blood was my Cheer, and other Feasts, my Fast.   

So George rid post; and at his journeys end  
(To quench his Thirst, and cool his bloody Sweat)  
His gentle Host (being my secret friend)  
Did broach a Butt, t' allay his dangerous heat,  
But so he sow'st him in't, that he did send  
Poor George to rest, in everlasting Seat,  
Yet no tart Wine, But Malmsey stopped his Breath;  
So died he not the sharpest, but sweetest Death.   

Next, Time an other Point begins t' attain,  
When Edward (past the Solstice of his years)  
With necessary change begins to wain,  
And I thrust in to undergo his cares,  
Life (sensible of Pleasure) now feels pain,  
Earth must to Earth; as nature's course outweares:  
His Scene is done, Death strikes him to the heart,  
So parts the Stage; and now begins my part.   

Now Back-steeled Buckingham I made my Friend,  
Him I sustained with hope, and fed with Air,  
To further me, in my aspiring End,  
In whom I found will, power, and faithful care:  
I shot the Shaft, and he the Bow● did bend;  
And both could run with Hound, and hold with Hare;  
And though to cross his Aim I had a Clause,  
Yet strongest Agents, back the weakest Cause.   

Next, Rivers, Vaughan, Grace, (that stood in light  
And justly interposed my unjust Aim)  
Did feel the vengeance of my fell despite,  
Whose Deaths did more secure my lawless Claim:  
Poor simple souls they were to stand for Right  
Not having Strength: for virtues power is lame;  
'Tis desperate folly to oppose, not strong,  
Then sink with Right, 'tis better wink at wrong.   

So Regent made, Protector to the Princes;  
Bare Heads, bend Knees, sooth Mischief, second hope;  
Religious shows, do cover close Pretences,  
More Towers, more Titles▪ are my Fancies scope;  
Now I contract my wits, summon my Senses,  
To smooth the rugged Way, the Doors to open  
That lead to State; the Law being in my Will,  
I had a Licence to make good my iii.   

I played with Law as with a waxen nose,  
Now made it crooked, then strait, then saddle wise:  
And its firm brow I bent unto the toes,  
To make a footstool on't for me to rise.  
What Wisdom stablished policy ore'throwes,  
Corrupts her pure Soul, blears her fairest eyes,  
Law's a mute female judge: Gifts, Wit, and Tongue,  
Oft prostitute her parts to lust and wrong.   

Truth had a tattering stand, I made Commander,  
Tyrants are ever fearful of the good:  
And Innocence in vain opposeth slander,  
Whom I accused or censured, who withstood?  
My Brain was as an intricate Meander,  
Whence horror issued and the streams of blood.  
My Soul, like Styx, and jove might swear by me,  
As nought more adverse to his Detty.   

Now whiles I trembled in an Agony,  
Sole Sovereignty with safest means contriving:  
My working head (my Counsels Consistory)  
Debates how I might reign, the Princes living:  
My powers disjoined, and (for security)  
Neither, to other a sure Hostage giving.  
But in this doubtful conflict le●t me still  
Between my Reason and my sensual Will.   

Reason objects (to countercheck my pride)  
How Kings are natures Idols, made of clay:  
And though they were by mortals Deified,  
Yet in the Grave, Beggars as good as they:  
That Sense was slavish, and for man no guide,  
That Reason should Command and Will, obey:  
And that with all world's pomp and Fortunes good,  
We still were nothing else but flesh and blood.   

Reason inferred, Men in effect were Kings,  
If they could rule themselves, and conquer Passion:  
And that Desire soared with Icarus Wings,  
When it outstripped her Bounds of limitation,  
That Her power only, could distinguish things;  
Show what was Real, what but Form, and Fashion,  
Suggests likewise, ●hat man was overthrown,  
Not more by others Flattery, than his own   

Farther She urged, that Fortune had no Power  
But in men's Ignorance; although She boast  
To bless, or cross, as She doth smile, or Lower,  
And to make Fools of those She Flatters most:  
That Virtue only was the Minds rich dower;  
By Wealth, not bought, by Poverty not lost,  
Which who so had not, ever purchased loss,  
His Pomp was Bane, and Titles, but his Crosse.   

This Reason doth suggest; which I convince;  
And prove those Grounds for idle, false, and vain,  
I knew her power, was in decay of sense,  
Which Age, not Youth; did Foster, and maintain;  
And though your sagest Morrallists from hence  
Gave human Precepts, with much thankless pain;  
Such meager Wisdom, writ with Deathlike claws,  
I held as foolish as your old wives Saws.   

Low Thoughts, in high-pitcht Hopes, despair do bring,  
And as one walking when the stars appear;  
Night fills his Eye, whence Shapes of Darkness spring,  
And all his Thoughts, prove Visions by his Fear:  
But when Aurora sets the Day on Wing,  
And drives the Raven-black- Night from Heavens bright sphere,  
Then Flowers, and Trees spangled with dews he spies,  
And worlds of Glories glitter in his Eyes.   

So when great Spirits do shrink in cloudy Fears,  
Losing their strength, diminishing their Pleasures,  
Then Wealth, and Glory, and what else is theirs,  
In darkest Womb do bury all their Treasures;  
But when a Kingly boldness them upreares,  
Treading on cloth of state their solemn Measures;  
Then do they grasp (in vigour of their Powers)  
The Globe, and Sceptre, and kiss Heaven with Towers.   

Now then (quoth I) let tastlesse lives Define  
Virtue, and her Reward, in after Time;  
Richard, thou hast an Essence more Divine,  
Which Glories Flame, hath purged from grossest Slime,  
Crowns be thy Objects, and those Ears of thine  
Relish no Music but a Spherelike Chime,  
Thus couched I Reason with my Eagles wings,  
If Reason ruled Men, then what need of Kings?   

No; I looked up, Nature bid me aspire,  
So taught the fiery Essence of my soul,  
Hearts are small Things, but infinite in Desire,  
Which neither bounds contained, nor Bars control,  
The Flesh, is vapour, and the spirit, a Fire;  
And jovial Minds (when these begin t' enrol)  
Do part the Dross, and on the Body's Head,  
Dissolve in Thunder, what his Baseness bred.   

So, on I went, in devilish politic wise;  
The Young Prince now from safest sanctuary  
A Prelate forced (some such can tamporize)  
Who held with Fiends t' enfring Church liberty:  
The Child being brought to me (as 'twas my Guise)  
I kissed, and Blessed, with feigned sincerity  
The Innocent Soul, and therein did fulfil,  
The part of judas; for I meant to kill.   

Him, with his Brother, lodged I in the Tower,  
A pair ill met, to undergo like Fate;  
Now wrinkled Brows (like Skies, before a Shower)  
Spread gloomy Darkness over England's State:  
All sought to save; I purposed to devour;  
My Ours are laid, and they prevent too late;  
Counsels divide; and a confused Rumour,  
Time sent, as Throes, unto my swelling Tumour.   

Now did I use each working Instrument,  
Some Files to take off; some smooth Tools, to glaze;  
Some serves t'insinuate; all for close intent,  
Wrought one effectual end, in several ways;  
I was prime Mover in this Firmament:  
And they, the Spherelike Movers to my praise,  
But Buckingham, my jupiter of Light,  
Whose Influence, was Mirror of my Might.   

And as the Catholic Spirit in Man applies  
Each Sense and Organ, to their proper Ends,  
Useth the heart, the Brain, the Ears, and Eyes,  
And to th'impulsive soul, those Powers extends:  
So in this politic Body, I devise,  
By Buckingham (my Spirit) who slacks, or bends  
My useful Engines; Him I made my Hand,  
Temploy his power, with theirs, to my command.   

Now good Lord Hastings (great in all men's Grace)  
(Of th'adverse Faction, Fautor and chief Head)  
I heaved at, and removed him from his place,  
That so the Rest might faint, uncomforted;  
My Bloodhound Catesby foiled him in the Chase;  
Who erst by him being raised, cherished, and Bred,  
Knowing himself too weak, to stand for Right,  
Proves treacherously Wise, and Friend to Might.   

Thus could I Saint a Devil with a Fiend,  
And make one Engine other to drive out,  
From a main Faction cull, a secret Friend,  
To hold with hope, and to prevent with Doubt,  
I had a power to break, what would not bend,  
In cautions, used my Sentinel and Scout;  
In jealousy, had Argoes hundred eyes,  
And Nero's cruel heart, to tyrannize.   

How cunningly did Buckingham, and I,  
Pretend, and set a colour in the Treason  
Of Hastings, to our Lives? how suddenly  
We Butchered, (without Form of Law, or Reason)  
That harmless Man? then gulled Simplicity  
With forced fear; as if at that same Season,  
Erinys, and the Furies had been bend,  
To cast their paleness on our damned intent?   

And what a piece of justice did I show  
On Mistress Shore? when (with a feigned hate  
To unchaste Life) I forced her to go  
Barefoot, on penance, with dejected State?  
But now her Fame by a vild Play doth grow;  
Whose Fate, the Women so commiserate,  
That who (to see my justice on that Sinner)  
Drinks not her Tears; & makes her Fast, their dinner?   

Now, whiles all wish to see young Edward Crowned,  
And in each Place a solemn Preparation;  
In my vast Sea, their Streams of joy were drowned,  
Whose Aim was bend to cross their Expectation:  
For Buckingham, and I, had laid the Ground  
To raise my Column, and suppress their Station;  
And much untempered Mortar was in hand,  
To Daub, and Cement, what could never stand.   

The gain and Glorie-thirsting smooth Divine,  
More learned, then true; yet of less Art, than Fame;  
And many others with him do Combine;  
To sleike, and polish, my corrupter Claim;  
And whiles their Wits do work to make me shine,  
To gild my Gild, and glorify my shame;  
Like Racking clouds the people flock, and run,  
With pitchy Breathes, t' obscure my rising Son.   

But I, that held the Conscience but a Saw,  
In my self-love, confounding Idle Hate,  
Found Tricks t'impeach the Prince's claim, by Law,  
Proving mine true; theirs Illegitimate,  
And to this end suborned one Doctor Shaw  
With servile Tongue, and Spirit adulterate  
To preach dead Ed●ards slander, with my Mother,  
And Bastardise the Issue of my Brother.   

It was suggested then, most Impiously,  
Edward, nor clarence to be lawful Pairs;  
B●t (by th'erroneous Rule of Phisnomy)  
To be the Issue of some stranger Sires:  
That Edward had with foulest Brgamy  
Blemished his Stock, and had no rightful Heirs;  
Thus Father, Mother, Brother, Race, and Name  
I would have vilified, t' advance my claim.   

Report went out; and whispering Rumour drew  
From every quarter, Men of each condition;  
To know the Sequel, whether false, or true,  
To clear their doubts and to inform Suspicion:  
And to Paul's Cross (where State-foode fresh, and new,  
After a Change, to feed their Inquisition)  
The many Headed Beast, do flock, and gather,  
To hear strange Tidings, from their Ghostly Father.   

There Doctor Shaw stepped up: this was his Theam●  
The Bastard slips do never take deep root;  
Who from his Conduit pipe sent such a Stream,  
As drenched his Audience from the Head to foot:  
Such Milk and Honey, with such clouted Cream  
Flowed from his Wit; and from his Tongue did shoot  
Such spleenful Venom; that all Men (perplexed)  
Feared He'd go mad, running beside his text.   

Where, having slandered Edward's Progeny,  
Taxed his Life; and show'd his Precontract,  
Defamed our Mother with Adultery;  
Edward, nor Clarence, got in lawful Act;  
Then proving Me (though most preposterously)  
York's true borne son; by us it was Compact  
That I (by Miracle) should come in Place,  
At th'instant of my Praise, to meet with Grace.   

He lo●kes us oft, I came not on my Cue;  
At last (of course) descending to my Praise  
Home it was sent, which done, I came in view  
And spread amongst them my abhorred Rays;  
Then Shaw (Verbatim) doth again renew  
What he had spoke, Things fowl, need double Glaze,  
Forgetting quite that twice sod Meat, would dull,  
Witless, as shameless, praised me to the full.   

Which (in Effect) was thus: That I alone  
Was pattern, of each Princely Quality,  
For Arms, and virtuous Disposition,  
Unparallelled; That in Form, Face, and Eye,  
I bore the Figure, and Proportion,  
O● York my Sire: nay, to th' Extremity  
His hired Tongue, my hope, and Glory brings  
I was not borne t● obey; but rule with Kings.   

Which twice rubbed over, grossest Flattery,  
(Met with opinions so prejudicate)  
Enforced the Hearers universally  
To vent in murmur, their concealed Hate.  
Another too (of the bald-Frierie)  
Instructed on like subject to Dilate,  
Grew hoarse; and in the midst (abrupt) came down  
Whose Hire, was Hate; perpetual Shame, his crown.   

Such Doctors were (I do not say there are)  
Whose Breathes scald Heaven; Hearts clogged with world's desire,  
That without Scruple, touch of Shame, or Fear,  
Would wrest the Scripture, to make Truth a Liar:  
And these like Mercenary Men appear;  
That love the Word, for Wealth; the work, for Hire;  
whose tutored tongues, to take off Great men's Blames,  
Set stronger Seals on theirs, and their own Shames.   

To give more colour to this Enterprise;  
My Agent Buckingham, (with wits high Strains)  
Prepares the City States; men chiefly Wise,  
In giving way to things above their Brains:  
Such as were seen in Measures, Weights, and Siz  
Of Grocery; with Bread, B●ere, Ale, and Grains;  
And better knew the weight of Bags, and Pence,  
Then matters of this weight, and Consequence.   

These notable, Wise-wealthy Magistrates;  
(Such they were then, what ever they are now)  
Did only see with th' Eyes of higher States;  
And what these thought (though bad) they would allow:  
The sweet Recorder, and the City waits  
Did make them sound; and every Man knew how  
Better to Copy, from their looks Austere,  
Then take true Notes of Wit from them, by Eare.   

These Gray-hayred Sages, (Grave, in saying little)  
My Subtle Buckingham like Wax had wrought;  
Who surely sealed together with the People,  
He brought to tender, what I long had sought;  
And being their Mouth deliu'ring to a tittle,  
Both what they would, and what ourselves forethought,  
Solicit me (and they would have no Nay)  
To take the Crown, the Sceptre, and the Sway.   

He shows the public Good that would ensue,  
The People's general liking, and Applause,  
Prevention of seditious Plots that grew,  
Through want of Execution of the Laws:  
Said, that old sores, would fester, and renew,  
If I took not the Sword, to right their Cause:  
Behold us then (quoth He) with Pities Eye,  
Of your accustomed Grace, and Clemency.   

Then I (with hart-cheeked tongue) made this Reply:  
That, though I saw their heavy states with Ruth;  
Yet so much was my loves sincerity,  
Unto the promising Hopes of Edward's Youth;  
Withal, so loath to stain Humility  
(Professing seemelesse Zeal; and naked Truth)  
That I (unapt for Rule, and Sovereignty)  
Preferred content, to highest Monarchy.   

He farther doth enforce, and I deny:  
He pleads my Right, and I dissemble strong;  
Objects the Princes confirmed Bastardy,  
And still the Maiden's part is all my Song:  
At last he drives his subtle Oratory  
To show of Spleen, that I their lives did wrong:  
And if (quoth he) you will not Condescend,  
We must elect some other: there's an End.   

This Sc●ne so well performed on either part,  
The play drew on to a Catastrophe,  
I added to States double dealing Art  
Devices that by Ebbing, filled my Sea;  
I hung off; to be drawn by the Desert  
Of making Conscience of the charge, my Plea,  
To take as forced, what more than Heaven I wished,  
And to which, would through troubled Hell have fished.   

I still put Bait on Bait, to make my Hook  
The more Invisible, and gave away  
More than men asked: men used more care to look  
Where any Suit but worth the begging lay,  
Then how to get my winged Hand to the Book,  
Proud Beggary made the whole week Holiday,  
For Saboths, Beggary was a work of worth,  
While merit grew as bamefull as the North.   

Then made I civil men, make Riot way,  
Men by Art Civil, that are riotous ever,  
When men play Arts prise once, they fight, and play,  
Such danger in the open Field, is never.  
Art drawn from Nature, draws her Soul away,  
And then from Beasts, you can not men dissever,  
But in the worst part; These men for round Fees  
Squared Arts, and all Terms out by Policies.   

For Fees, I made them lawful prove my claim;  
Disabling both my Nephews to Inherit;  
Gold sets up marks, Hoyles, pricks for any Aim,  
That still shall hit, how wide soever Merit;  
Goulds Chemic Skill, can cure an aged Maim,  
And in at deaths last gasp breath Youths first Spirit,  
Nay, so much, Art, and Nature, Gold controls,  
That men it makes live without manly Souls.   

Gold got by Begging; Begging not forgot  
Could be at any hand; but (varied now)  
For my good now they begged; that theirs might not  
The Font find dry, since ever all the flow  
Their Sewres renewed still; and made seethe their Pot.  
'tis sacred Truth: First good t' ourselves we owe;  
Thus for themselves they Supplication made,  
That I would take on me the Royal Trade.   

I made it nice for my Good, (as from theirs  
They turned their own ends over, all to mine)  
And at the last for their Good heard their Prayers;  
And as by any Floods side sinks a Pine  
To take more Root; and curl his levy Hairs  
The more in Bows, and Arms, that kiss the Skin;  
So stooped I; so to rise; and being up  
Both with their Goods, and Bloods, I crowned my cup.   

This fearful doubt then being thus decided,  
As a Praeludium to my Tragic Main:  
The factious Peers now joined that were divided,  
Who with all solemn Rites confirmed my Reign.  
Thus desperately I took the Clew that guided  
Through Laberinthian doubts; and now in vain  
That monstrous Minotaur (the people) raged,  
Whose turbulent Breath I calmed; and fierceness swag'd.   

Now though all heads are bare, all bend their knees,  
Yet (in themselves) my Greatness they compare  
To Senecaes' high-stiled Tragedies,  
Embossed with gold, most glorious, rich and fair,  
Which as they open, Thyestes greets their eyes,  
Who proved his children's Tomb; and then they fare  
Like men that see with horror, read with hate,  
And so abhorred was my golden state.   

For having died my hands in human gore,  
Made black my Soul; my wit a plot doth ca●t  
To feed my ravenous appetite with more,  
My Gorge was empty for a new repast,  
But such a one, not Ages long before  
Offered to Time; or Fame's all-sounding Blast:  
Now doth my Conscience play the Coward's part,  
And Blood chased from my face, flies to my heart.   

Then joy, with Fear; and Hope, with deep Despair,  
Adulterate their Powers, and did engender  
Confusion, Horror, and blood-thirsting Care,  
Which Passion (mixed with distraction) render;  
Now Nature shrunk, and set on end my Hair,  
My heart pants thick, my Pulse beats slow, and tender,  
At the Conception of a Thought, whose Hell  
Contains that Torment where the Devils dwell.   

In shapeless Darkness I was then confined,  
And every thing (that erst was my delight)  
Turned to a Fiend; bro●d waking, I was blind,  
As if enfolded in the veil of Night,  
Astonishment, did all my senses bind,  
Shame did appear; dead Pity rose to light,  
When I conceived the Murder of the Princes,  
Which Heaven, & Hell, Time, Nature, death, convinces.   

Yet thus my Devilish spirit shook off this Trance,  
And thus my Genius chid: O Coward faint!  
Did not thy wit above thy Birth advance?  
Cut knotty Doubts, and Bars of all Restraint?  
Doth not thy Frown control the Frown of chance?  
And shall thy Superstitious Fancy paint,  
These heartless Fears, Imaginary Hell,  
And have a Charm above thy Politic Spell?   

Hast not made God a Cloak, to get a Crown?  
Without all Shame, parboiled thy blushless Face?  
With conquering Tyranny, cast Pity down?  
Established Wickedness; supplanted Grace?  
And now like to a man (ready to drown)  
Catch at a helpless Thing? Why this is base;  
Not like a Kingly Politician;  
But a poor Ignorant Plebeian.   

What? wilt thou thus run from thyself to Error?  
And make Indulgent Nature now thy Foe?  
Plunging thyself into the Depth of Terror?  
And where once Wisdom thrived, let Folly grow?  
Shall airy Virtue, now become thy Mirror?  
And things (merely without) afflict thee so?  
If Conscience fright, and silent Shame be feared?  
Thou art no King, but of the popular Herd.   

'tis Shame (where parts agree) to make a jar;  
To bring Disturbance, and Distraction;  
What Nature hath established, to mar,  
Is to deface the Habit, she puts on:  
To bring thy Actions to thy conscience Bar,  
So to be doomed to swift perdition,  
But having seared thy conscience, sealed thy Blame,  
T' unrip the womb again, why this were shame:   

No Richard: in thine own powers, still be free,  
And what seems best, think absolutely well:  
Confirm thy strength, make good thy policy,  
Nor 'gainst thy name, and dignity, rebel:  
Prove not a Zelist in fond Purity,  
Nor paint a Heaven, nor counterfeit a Hell:  
But wind into thyself; there, set thy rest,  
So plot, and execute what thou think'st best.   

Maintain thy power, diminish not thy sway,  
Nor bound thyself, being a boundless King;  
But of thy State still propagate the Sea,  
And take the Tribute of each petty Spring:  
Frame thine own Circle, and then boldly say,  
This is my Centre; hither will I bring  
The lines of all my Actions; fair, or foul,  
And see what power, or will, or can control.   

Break open thy black Abissus, and take thence,  
Worlds of advantages against the world:  
Be false, and cruel, still with impudence,  
And calms, with tempest's, on thy Brow be curled;  
From thy own Heaven derive thy influence,  
And Fiend-like fear be into darkness hurled,  
Thy Sun, to Sun; thy Stars, to Stars advance,  
And let thy pomp in golden mountains dance.   

So then (resolved) having thus debated  
My tyrannous Will, had laid the bloody train:  
And in my doom the Prince's lives were dated,  
Whose ominous being, did impeach my reign:  
I thought myself not absolute instated,  
Nor could make free use of my purchased gain;  
Till without Rival, I might show my brow,  
One King in state; one Sun the Heavens allow   

Now was my Frosty coldness, fully thawed;  
And my resisted fire found open vent,  
Now I digested, what so hard was chawed,  
And turned it to familiar nourishment:  
Then Buckingham (my artificial Bawd▪  
My Hand, my Factor, and my Instrument)  
I grounded on, to work this last Design,  
And give the Fire, to this my secret Mine.   

Legions of Devils seconded my Thought  
To join him with me, in this dangerous Main,  
Whose powerful hand, my counsel would have wrought  
T' effect the complot of this murderous Train;  
But here he stopped, would by no means be brought  
To add this foulness, to his former Stain,  
And like on's Nails within an ulcerous Sore,  
Touched to the quick, he shrinks, and will no more.   

My Motion did repeal his banished fear,  
And Fear, Solicits his numbed Conscience,  
His coldness, moved my heat, which heat did bear  
The churlish temper of Impatience:  
And now his Love from memory I tear,  
Turn his obsequious service to offence:  
For Politicians are no longer Friends,  
When Friends can add no more to their main Ends.   

So did he vanish, for he now had spent  
The Marrow, of his Trust, and Flattery;  
And so I used each servile Instrument,  
When it had lost his steeled faculty:  
I squeezed him dry, and his true service spent  
I paid with empty handed Usury,  
For like a Politic, well taught, full grown,  
I felt no want, or fullness, but mine own.   

Besides; he had both power, and Subtlety,  
And knew where I was weakest fortified,  
Then of myself so much in him did lie,  
That he had got the Rains to curb my Pride,  
Nor stood it with my kingly Dignity,  
To prove his Slave, that erst had been his Guide,  
For his own neck he made the fatal noose,  
They love no Traitors, that do Traitors use.   

Great Buckingham thus paid with hateful Frowns,  
I chose for him the Maleconted Mate,  
One that will kill his dearest Sire for Crowns,  
In hope t' advance his long dejected State,  
The hope of Heaven, and pains of Hell he drowns  
In smiles of Fortune, and auspicious Fate;  
And of this Rank▪ one Tyrrell I did frame  
To do this deed, whose horror wants a Name,   

This upstart Gentleman, being styled a Knight,  
Whose Back, and Belly, had consumed his Good,  
Puts forth his long-hid-head, into the light,  
To crown his valour in this Act of Blood:  
Ages to come, a Catalogue may city  
Of such brave spitits, whose hated Crests do bud  
With homicidiall honour; and do bear  
A Sable conscience, in a Shield of Fear.   

And note what State was kept when this was wrought,  
The Close-stool was my Seat most eminent,  
A filthy Carpet fits an ordured Thought,  
The Senses loathing, and sins Excrement:  
So Tyrrell took some State, whose pride had sought  
Two loathed Sla●es, which overcloyed Time did vent  
Into this Sink of Shame, in which damned Fact,  
Tyrrell commanded, and the Grooms did act.   

The Even, before the Night, that this was done,  
The headstrong winds did rage with hideous Storm,  
As red as Blood descends the fearful Sun,  
And Nature, had put on a dismal Form,  
Chaos was threatened by th'eclipsed Moon,  
And Ravens, and S●rich-owles bode th'ensuing harm,  
Then burst there forth (whiles darkness shook Hell's Chain)  
An angry Comet with a smoky Train.   

The fatal hour ushered by this Ostent,  
Astonished all; and in the Princes bred  
Oraculous Presages of th' Event,  
That they like Lambs were to the Slaughter led:  
Their spotless Lives must clear the Element,  
The angry Comet thirsted to be fed  
With their heart bloods; they knew these storms would cease,  
When they were lodged in their Graves in peace.   

Thus they Divined; and though by zealous Prayer  
They sought t'avoid the danger, than so near,  
Yet such vain hopes do turn into despair,  
For Fate respects nor zeal, Truth, Love, nor Fear,  
Heau●ns causes knit, do never break their square,  
But run directly to th'effects they bear;  
And though hard Fates can never be withstood,  
Yet Death confounds the Bad, life crowns the Good.   

Thus Heavens just Law, ordered by upright Hand,  
They that live justly, that true Course do run;  
Which they that leave, apparently withstand,  
And do pursue their own Confusion:  
These innocents, being marked for angels Band,  
Keeping heavens Course as constant as the Sun,  
Although by my most bloody hand they fell,  
Yet in their Fall, they rose; I, Damned in Hell.   

These Devilish Slaves, whose dark deeds fly the light,  
(When Sleep, in binding dews had steeped the Senses)  
With glaring Eyes, cloaked in the vale of Night,  
Rushed in, to act this Murder on the Princes;  
Whose horrid Semblance, Death might well affright,  
And whose attempt, even Hell it self Convinces,  
Medusa's Adders in their Hair were ●old,  
Not Gorgon's Head more ugly to behold.   

As they approach the Bed where they repose;  
Their drumming Hearts, panted their Fears Alarms,  
To see the sweetness Nature did disclose;  
(that such Beauty should lie open to harms!)  
There twined the Lily and the blushing Rose:  
And as they clasped like leaves) their Innocent Arms,  
They seemed in the object of such Glory,  
T'invite some Pen to lyneate their Story.   

The Humours, and the Elements, combined,  
To form in them, the Abstract of perfection;  
The Graces, in their sweet proportion shined,  
Whose radiant Beams, shot Love, and fired Affection,  
And if the outward Beauty from the Mind  
Receive all Grace, all Luster, and Reflection;  
Then might one say, of either's Spirit▪ and Feature;  
Heaven held the Pencil, and the form of Nature.   

The World's Abridgement in this Beauty lay,  
Thus subject to the hand of Tyranny;  
Whose light, from darkness might have struck the day,  
And with his Beams, dazzled an Eagles Eye;  
Yet these damned Hellhounds had the heart t'assay  
To roll these Orbs up in obscurity,  
And pash to Chaos, their so fair built Frames,  
To sacrifice their Limbs, in Funeral Flames.   

Now, in the Bed (which is the Type of Graves)  
And in dead Sleep (the portraiture of Death)  
Those dregs of Men, this Spawn of Earth, these Slaves,  
Did bury them alive, and stopped their Breathes,  
Where like a Sexton each himself behaves,  
To cover them with that which lay beneath;  
So left them sleeping in eternal Rest,  
Whose Sainted souls, now live among the Blessed.   

These Furies now are tortured with Despair,  
And howl in horror of their murderous deed,  
They beat their Breasts, and tear their Snaky Hair,  
In their assured Torment to succeed;  
With sinful Breathes they taint the pi●rest Air,  
And in their Faces every one may read  
Gild, mixed with Fears; too late, they find too well,  
That though they breath on Earth; they live in Hell.   

Now when I saw printed in tyrrel's Brow,  
These Characters of Death, and shameful Gore,  
I bid him study for the best means how  
I might requite, or he might well Implore:  
But he, that did with Gild enough endow  
His wretched state; would never look for more;  
But summing up this Murder, with his Pride,  
He got the Devil and all; so lived, so died.   

Thus without Fear, armed with Herculean Force,  
I saw this Hell, my Thoughts had shaped, and bred;  
If fearful Hydra, had opposed my course,  
I should have left the Monster never a Head:  
Or like Rooms Tyrant (with as small remorse)  
Thousand contracted Lives, have Butchered;  
To raise my Glory to this complete Frame,  
And set my Foot upon the Throat of Shame.   

Yet now my Li●e was conversant with Danger,  
Fear, and suspicion, did perturb my Sleep,  
Th'apparent Hate of Men, stirred up my Anger,  
And charged Pistols, for defence I keep,  
For since I had professed myself a Stranger  
To every Good; in Blood, and sin, so deep,  
My Sores were to be rubbed, t' avoid their Harms,  
Whom 〈◊〉 solicits, Circumspection arms.   

They that no Ill commit, no Ill need fear,  
And Truth is their best Armour of Defence,  
Ill comes not, when before it was not there,  
And Weapons fit a wounded Conscience,  
Tyrants, the privy coat had need to wear,  
And ever waking keep their troubled Sense,  
So kept I watch, and stood upon my Guard,  
My Steel still drawn, of mine own Shadow feared.   

Now the 〈◊〉 Line, that scarce was seen,  
With Sword (instead of Pen) begins to raze  
The Line of York; whose Ink, is blackest Spleen,  
To blot my Glory, and my Name, de●ace,  
The Frost bit Rose, now sprouts, and waxeth green,  
Wanting but time to spread with wont Grace,  
The white Rose, must be joined with the Red,  
To propagate fair Stems, in one chaste Bed.   

Richmond, my Brother's Daughter to Espouse  
(The sweet Elizabeth) is ma●k't by Fate,  
Which to prevent, my Lion Spirit I Rouse,  
With that fair Lyonesset Incorporate;  
Which though nor Laws of God, nor Man allows,  
Yet to establish, and secure my State,  
I sought with wilful Lust, and powerful Awe,  
To cross the Banes, and overrule the Law.   

First Buckingham (whose hopes were vainly ●ed  
To break the Ice for Richmond with his power)  
I march'● against, and (by good Fortune) sped;  
My Stars herein did smile▪ and his, did lower,  
I pricked him kindly, he as kindly bled  
His ancient Love; and so in happy hour,  
I paid th' arrearages of his lent Good,  
And had my Acquittance sealed with his Blood.   

O Buckingham; thou wert too open Breasted,  
And spent'st too freely to receive thy Right;  
For of my State, by thee I was Invested,  
A debt far greater, than I could requite,  
Some statesmen's Hands are shut; their Bounty Chested,  
And ill do they abide those men in ●ight,  
That may upbraid with unrequited Good,  
Such Bonds are seldom canceled, but with Blood.   

Next Anne my Wife (whose Being did deny  
My match, with my fair Niece Elizabeth)  
Fell sudden sick with grief, or jealousy;  
And all my Love would not preserve her Breath:  
I gave her Medicines for Sterility  
And She grew fruitful in the Bed of Death,  
Her Issue, crawling Worms; and there she lies,  
Whose love, and life, lo thus I memorise.   

This was that creature that I wooed, and won,  
Over her bleeding Husband, stabbed by me;  
Such different persons, never saw the Sun,  
He, for perfection; I, Deformity;  
She wept, and smiled, hated, and loved, in one,  
Such was her Virtue, my Hypocrisy,  
Thus women's Griefs, nor Loves, are died in grain,  
For either's colour, Time, or Men, can stain.   

For farther proof, my Sister Queen I chose,  
Professing Truth, to her; t' her Daughter, Love;  
Insinuating with such artful Gloze,  
As if the God of Eloquence should move;  
And notwithstanding all the baneful woes,  
She had sustained by me; I made her prove  
My loves Attorney, furthering my Suit  
T' astonish Wonder; and strike Rumour Mute.   

By this I Instance, how these Fools are caught  
With honours Baits; or tickled with their Praise,  
Whose flexible conditions may be wrought  
To any Form; Subjects for Sports, and Plays;  
Angels they seem, and are with Angels bought,  
Guilded corruption; Natures falsed Glaze,  
No mean in their Affects; in Passion moving,  
No moment in their Tears; nor Faith, in Loving.   

Inconstant Sex; no sooner full, then waning,  
In weakness, dying; and imperfect, borne;  
Their scanted wills, like half faced Moons complaining,  
Which to supply they make the Forked Horn:  
Nor hot, nor cold; now loving, then disdaining,  
The Fautors of Deceit; of Truth, the storm;  
Like Cotton Buds, which none can bruise, or pull,  
But being put forth, like them they turn to wool.   

Such were my wiles, I could deceive deceit,  
Gild Imperfections, with Imperfect Glory,  
Building on Ruins my uncertain State,  
Laugh at Oppression, from Pride's Promontory,  
I soothed my Pomp with an eternal Date,  
And in Ambition, perfected my Story,  
Which Word, let Fame to after Ages sound,  
As of my Life, the Pyramed, and Ground.   

And as a Taper played within the night,  
Where men do firmly sit, or walk, or stand;  
Raiseth their Shadows, to the places hight,  
Then to the Ground, in turning of a hand:  
Now it impairs them, by the wa●ing light,  
And then extends their lengths, themselves beyond,  
So Fortune plays with Kings, and worldly States,  
She tosses, turns, rears, and precipitates.   

As one that drinks more than he can contain,  
He sur●ets in excess, and dulls his Taste;  
And then the Fume (spread through his Poares & Brain)  
He speaks his secrets thoughts, and seems disgraced:  
Nor doth desist, till in his drunken vain  
His Intellectual powers are so defaced,  
That (losing th'office of his Feet) he lies  
Shameful, and naked to all ●ober eyes:   

So I, in thirst of Glory, Rule, and State,  
Drinking excessively, and past my fill;  
Swinging in Lust, and Thoughts intemperate,  
Drunk in Ambition, and my sensual will:  
Was so transparent in my latest date,  
And all my Good, so swallowed in my Ill;  
Th●t in my staggering Pride, and shameful Fall,  
I grew a Monster, and a scorn to all.   

ay, that once thought, that no man could be blest  
In moderate kind of human blessedness;  
And in my Tyrannous licence did suggest  
To comprehend (in Pomp) all Happiness:  
Gave Reigns to Lust, and in my Will suppressed  
The rule of Reason (man's sole Sovereignesse)  
That to the World's Doom, still preferred mine own,  
And pitched my hopes, no lower than a crown:   

I, that did make no conscience to Plot,  
And perpetrate, all Bestial cruelty;  
That harrowed Earth, and Hell for what I got,  
As if those types would last Eternally:  
In Goodness cold, in Mischief ever hot,  
And in my damned Tracts of Policy  
Had sown men's Hearts, and with unfeeling Taints  
Did die my Hands in Innocent blood of Saints:   

ay, that could taint souls with corrupting Breath,  
And from their Breasts root Faith, and Piety,  
Steeling their Spirits for Acts of closest Death,  
And suck the heart of their ability,  
Then raise fresh bloods, and set the dry, beneath,  
Festered, in conscience of their villainy,  
Then rack them with delays; reward with air▪  
And laugh to see them perish in despair:   

I that at best, held Virtue, and Religion,  
No other Things, but well mixed Elements;  
Nor Vice, nor Ill, but H●mors Disposition,  
Depraved by the Body's Instruments:  
Esteemed the Soul subject to Death's corruption:  
Nor thought all these, but natural Events,  
And their disorder cured by Physics Skill,  
And nothing subject to th'eternal Will.   

Now did my Conscience, that lay smothered  
Under this Pile, of Damned Impiety,  
And seemed (as with green fuel Mastered)  
Concealled, and prisoned in Obscurity;  
show'd, that by Sin, 'twas rather comforted,  
Then any way deprived of Faculty,  
And in their Flame did rage so much the more,  
By how much it did seem restrained before.   

Now all my Acts of Murder, Sin, and Shame  
(Bred by Ambition, and my tyrannous Will)  
Appeared upon my Head like A●tn●'s Flame,  
Or like a Beacon fired upon a Hill;  
Now Rumour, gives the Echo to my Fame;  
Uproars, and Insurrections gi'en to fill  
All places vast; and now in fear, I start,  
To fall beneath the mountain of my Hart.   

O how I cursed my Aspic Flattery,  
That shed such venom in my Rational power,  
I cursed the Glass that so corruptedly,  
Did show the face of vice to smile, not lower;  
Now for each privileged Mischief did I lie  
A Butt to Torment; and a fearful Shower  
(By the Black vapour of my Sin being bred)  
With blood and vengeance swollen, hung o'er my head.   

Thus, in the waning Splendour of my Pride,  
Compassed with danger, and assaylde with Fears;  
And in my Thoughts, all Torments multiplied,  
That might augment the burden of my cares;  
I found myself so weakly fortifyde,  
Against the powerful Battery of despairs;  
That I was plunged into Hell's deep Abyss,  
Secluded from all comfort, joy, or Bliss.   

Nor did the ancient Poets idly feign  
Erinys, and the damned Eumenideses;  
Since even those Furies, in their Mask contain  
The Moral, of my tortured Tyrannies:  
For th' Apparitions of ensuing pain  
So daunted me with their Extremities,  
That I was racked in terror of my doom;  
And made that present; which was but to come.   

Then dreadful Melancholy did convert  
My Nature, to the Temper of my Brain,  
Which soaked with my Spleen, disturbed my heart,  
And through my body, spread a poisonous Bane,  
It did confound my Sense, and every part,  
Each Muscle, sinew, Artery, Ioin●, and Vain,  
Had lost their natural working, and prepare,  
To set me it the highway, to despair.   

Such was the horror of my Malady▪  
Distract with fear, of that I was t' inherit,  
That it corrupted every Faculty,  
Congealed my Blood▪ and dulled my active Spirit,  
Thus my whole Nature●elt ●elt like Sympathy,  
With my despairful So●le, for sinful Merit,  
For all the Functions of my Soul, and Sense,  
Were maimed by my wounded Conscience.   

My Reason dotes; my Soul did idle sit,  
Wanting fit matter of Intelligence:  
Organs, depraved, and stupifyde my Wit,  
My Understanding, weak; unsound my Sense;  
And every part disabled, and unfit,  
To comfort or relieve my Conscience,  
Hopeless, and helpless, all my powers agree,  
In Desperations Gulf to swallow me.   

And as we see the Eye, the Ear, or Sent,  
Affected long, and overvehemently,  
Retain their Species in the Instrument,  
Though absent ●e ●he mo●ing quality:  
So the Internal Senses strongly bend  
To fearful Objects of obs●●●itie,  
To judge of things by their depraved kind,  
Give Passion vigour, and make ●eason, blind.   

The Sun, the Moon, and Plan●●● of ●y Nature,  
So fearfully eclipsed in their light:  
My inward darkness casting on my Feature  
Assemblance ghastly pale, and full of fright:  
My leprous Soul▪ deformed, as my Stature,  
Did in these Tragic Terrors seem t' excite  
The thoughtful presage of my Destiny,  
To be accomplished in my Tragedy.   

Likewise my Name enter'd in Hell's black Roll;  
So infinite my Actions of Arrest,  
My grim ●ac't conscience seizing on my Soul;  
And my Tormentor e●e● in my Breast;  
So not the mind alone, but ●ody whole,  
Equally feeling, and alike distressed;  
Such watch they kept; such clamour they did make;  
That waking, I did dream; and sleeping, wake.   

Such was my Passion; of all faith 〈◊〉,  
Which should apply a Salve unto my wound,  
That in my Mind, Hell only was conceived,  
Which did all thought, and hope of Heau●n confound:  
Thus my despairful 〈◊〉 wea●'d  
The Web of my affliction; and I found  
My State so desperate, and my Sin so great,  
That no repentant means could expiate.   

Should I have filled the air with plaints 〈◊〉 ●ries;  
Have wr●ng my hands in grief; strained blood, in fears;  
Eat into Marble with my still bend knees;  
And all the Centre rotten, with my tears;  
Such was the clamour of my vivaries▪  
And so importunate were my Despairs,  
That nothing (as I thought) would satisfy,  
Th'offended justice of the Deirie.   

The settled Centre, eas●er might a●●ume  
The heavenly Motion that turns ever round;  
Huge Whales might sooner fly with feathered plume,  
And Birds (like worms) creep on the baser Ground,  
Ere I could hope, or ever might presume,  
By my repentance, mercy to have found,  
For priest with sin, and of all Grace bereaven,  
I could not lift one Thought so high as heaven.   

Not Saul, that (being possessed) died Reprobate:  
Not Esau's self, that did his Birthright ●ell;  
Not judas, marked for vengeance by his Fate;  
Not those which were devoured quick to Hell;  
Not hardened Pharaoh, all as Desperate;  
Nor cursed, and forlorn Achitophel;  
Could be more surely sealled, in heavens just doom,  
Then I, in conscience, for the wrath to come.   

Thus blasted with the Whirlwind of God's Breath,  
And shaken, with the Terror of his wrath,  
Vengeance above me, and hell-fire beneath;  
So void of Grace, and so exempt from faith:  
What could I look for but Eternal Death,  
Since all my life was progressed in that Path?  
Now did I fond wish, in my Despair,  
To be resolved to th' Element, of Air   

When drowsy Morpheus, with his Mace addressed  
My turbulent spirits, to a quiet Truce;  
My Thoughts, scarce gave me sleep; that sleep, no Rest,  
Though bound my Senses, yet my Sin was loose;  
For th' Images of outward Things (Impressed  
In common Sense) did (as it is their use)  
Present unto my waking Fantasy  
The horrid visions of my Tyranny.   

For my ●ome●i●● fears (that wholly tend  
To ●xtacies▪ and ●roken sleeps, unfound)  
Did to my 〈◊〉, black ●umes of horror send,  
Raised from despair, and 〈◊〉 ground;  
Whereon the 〈◊〉 did apprehend,  
And forge such terrible objects, that I found  
Myself oft strangled through those dreams of Terror,  
Which show'd my Death, and Hell, as through a Mirror.   

Such apparitions frighted me in sleep;  
My Conscience, unappeased; my Sin, still crying;  
These terrible Impressions were so deep,  
That waking, I was Transt; and living▪ dying;  
I wished I had been made a worm, to creep;  
Or from a worthless Egg, been hatched from flying;  
Or like proud N●buchadnez●r, to nourish  
My Bestial Nature, and like Beasts to perish.   

Thus Sin, a venomed Tooth from Hell did borrow,  
Which rankled to the Death, with deadly Bite;  
I sorrowed desperately, because my sorrow  
Was all too late, to help my helpless plight;  
I ploughed upon my barren Heart, whose Furrow  
(Not dewed with tears; ●or sown with Seeds, Contrite)  
Could yield no fruit, but ranckned with Sins Air,  
For hopeful faith, brought Thorns of sharp despair.   

Damnation's fear did make me penitent  
Which Reprobates may have with God's Elect,  
But Faith and Grace, (whose ends are to repent)  
Were far removed, and absent in Effect,  
I knew my Sin, with sorrows languishment,  
In Conscience sinking, and in horror wraked,  
But that Repentance, which should save and raise me,  
justice forbids me, and despair denaies me.   

Now Engl●nds Genius doth begin to swell,  
Whose spirit, long suppressed, breaks out in Fire,  
The Peers do stir, the Commons do rebel,  
Girls great with spleen, and Women sharp with Ire,  
Old men take Arms, Children (new crept from Shell)  
Wrong, and Oppression, do with Rage inspire:  
Factions now rend the State in several parts,  
Swords in their hands, and vengeance in their hearts.   

Richmond hath set his foot upon my stand,  
Who out of many lets hath wrought his course,  
And like a Stream, which lower Ban●●es withstand,  
Swells o'er his Bounds, and spreeds his flowing Source,  
The wrong incensed Peers, augment his Band,  
And give his weakness, a resistfull force,  
Of those, that did my Tyrannous Yoke still bear,  
None lent their strengths in Love, but all in Fear.   

Who in their staggering doubts of wars event,  
And to secure their Houses from Attaint,  
Did set a Colour, on their forced intent,  
And with could Faiths, relieved my Hope as faint,  
Distracted were their Minds, their Hearts were rend,  
Weak are the Powers that fight upon Constraint,  
Of some I took firm Hostage, to assure them,  
And promised others Mountains, to procure them.   

From the could North, (summoned by my Command)  
I had a Company of Frozen Hearts,  
Who seemed the very Scarecrows of the Land,  
So poor they were, ill furnished at all parts:  
These half Faced starvelings, and this Bandles Band,  
These ragged outsides, and these tattered Shirts,  
Came as to warm them, near the Western Light,  
With Maws to feed, rather than Hearts to fight.   

These were the Soldiers that I kept in Pay,  
Such Fayndings never yet were priest with Coin,  
Whose heavy looks, their duller Spirits betray;  
To make hope falter, in my wars design,  
All sought to lose, rather than win the day,  
And seemed more Richmond's part, than friends of mine,  
Yet these I termed true Hearts, with falsed Style,  
And heartened them with many a heartless Smile.   

And though environed with a darksome Fear.  
Yet in my face, I forced a seeming light,  
Whose Substance crude, and could, I did out wear  
The day, in cares, in waking Hours, the Night,  
Unsettled were my Motions, and did bear  
Undoubted semblance of distracted plight,  
My Conscience pricked soliciting my mind  
With Blood, for my most bloody deeds assigned.   

O how I band the Welsh, with bitter spite,  
Ap Thomas, Griffeth, Herbert, and their Train,  
That with poor Richmond's handful, joined their might;  
To take part with the Mean; and leave the Main:  
But when they swore to our defensive Right,  
With Sense reserved, they kept their Names from Stain,  
For I Usurped, and had no Right at all,  
Their Guardian Angels prompt their Rize; my Fall.   

Yet on I must with these my dangerous Friends,  
To try the Chance of vengeance threatening Wars,  
Where guilt gives Terror, Terror Mischief lends;  
And mix their Malice with my fatal Stars,  
The Deulish Fury in my Breast intends,  
In spite of danger and all opposite bars,  
To Cut this knot the mystic Fates contain,  
And set my life and Kingdom on this Main.   

Richmond comes on, relieved with still supplies;  
Whose firmest Faiths, give heart to his just Aim,  
S●eeling the Back of his great enterprise,  
With Cambro-brittaines', men of taintless Name,  
My strength, is trustless; his, in true hearts lies,  
And still increaseth, going; like to Fame;  
Angels attend Him, with their imminent power,  
Auspicious are his Stars, and mine do lower.   

The Prayers of old men, and the Nerves of young,  
Give vigour to his Arm, and prompt his Spirit,  
Cur●es, and Rage, (through Tyranny and wrong)  
Attend my Action, and my hateful merit:  
I faint in Millions; He, in hundreds strong,  
For not the odds of multitudes inherit  
The victor's Prize, since War (in heavens just laws)  
Is ever swayed by justice of the cause.   

War's the Tribunal, where all deeds of Arms  
Receive their equal, and their partlesse Doom,  
Not Fortunes Spells, nor Legions with their Charms,  
But must give Fate pre-eminence, and Room▪  
Though men, like Giants, with their proud Alarms  
Do brave the Heavens; yet if Ioues Thunder come  
In awful vengeance down, such pride he quails,  
So, not presumption then, but truth prevails.   

The bloody Field is pitched; surveyed the Ground▪  
The Centynels are placed; Perdus are sent,  
Soldiers entrenched, and encamped round,  
And in the midst advanced my shining Tent,  
Counsels assembled, for directions, found;  
Advantages proposed, for Detriment,  
All Things disposed, night comes, strong watch we keep,  
When weighty cares, do summon me to sleep.   

Now doth my conscience agitate my fears  
In visions, of my waking Fantasy,  
Now each particular action appears  
A strong Appellant of my Tyranny:  
Murder sounds horror, in my deafened Ears,  
And all my deeds of damned impiety  
Press to the Bar, where I receive my doom  
Of death-Stabs here, and infinite to come.   

Me thought I saw in those affrighting Dreams,  
My slaughtered Numbers round about my Bed,  
Opening their wounded Mouths, in Crimson Streams,  
And pouring Blood upon my tyrannous Head:  
The Furies Brands (me thought) shed flaming Beams,  
To waste me in my passage through the dead;  
Where at Hell's mouth, each howling spirit proclaims,  
And ring my welcome, with their clamorous chains.   

Me thought I saw, and heard the loathsome Plight  
Of dying Men; how bound in Frosts they lie,  
Swimming in cold sweats, and bearest of Light,  
Their entrails gnawn; pulse, stayed, and veins drawn dry,  
Their rattling Throats; fur'd Tongues; their broken sight;  
Their gasping Breathes; their looks deformity,  
Their earthy savour, in expiring Breath,  
O horrid Dream! but O more fearful Death!   

Me thought likewise, the dismal Rau'ns did croak,  
As I approached my death, to pass the Graves,  
The Earth did shake, and conjured Tempests broke  
In hideous noises from their Bellowing caves,  
Which threw down Turrets; roots the stoutest Oak:  
Then from the clouds the Arm of vengeance waves,  
And gives the Signal to the bloody fight,  
Where thousand swords divide me, and the light.   

These violent distractions broke in sunder  
The heavy Band, tha● bound my Senses fast,  
Whose frightful visions made me wild with wonder,  
Yet up I rose, then had I slept my last,  
And whiles with ghastly visage, I did ponder,  
Present, ensuing, and the Times long passed;  
I started from my Trance with rageful Teen,  
Taking a Dragon's Spirit, a tigers Spleen.   

And as the motions of all Natural Things  
Prove swiftest in their Ends; more strong inclined;  
As Torrents roar, derived from smallest Springs  
And gentle Blasts, do turn to boisterous win●e:  
So I resolved to put on fiery wings:  
And in my End, add Spirit to my mind,  
For yielding Thoughts, befit the basest Slaves,  
Kings should soar high, although they drop to graves.   

The Morning's Chanticleer proclaimed the day,  
Whose lowering countenance veiled the God of light;  
Yet glistering Armour (spite of Morning's Grey)  
To valiant minds, do yield a cheerful sight;  
The rolled up Ensign, when it doth display,  
Gives heart, and Colour, to the Martial wight;  
From Richmond's Arms, his hearts took such bright shine  
But leaden Spirits, could take no life from mine.   

Now was my Battle ranged on Bosworth plain,  
The Vanguard, ordered; and the Wings were set,  
Norfolk (my Chieftain) with much sweat, and pain,  
Tempered my Frozen Hearts, with his kind heat;  
Surrey, and He, bore minds that had no stain,  
Both well approved in Arms, and martial Feat,  
Our Standards both advanced in open fight,  
Summons are given, to prepare the Fight.   

My Men with Soldiers Rhetoric, I excite;  
Enforce the vildness of mine Enemy  
Th'injustice of his cause, of ours, the Right;  
Our wealthy States; their desperate Poverty;  
Their fainting Force; and our assured Might;  
Our living Honours; and their Infamy:  
So I concluded with these heartening Words;  
St George for England; and for me their Swords.   

Now rotten Sin gives ripeness to my Fate;  
And jove doth vail the Curtain of the Sky,  
Reflecting Beams of favour, and stern hate,  
On Richmond's Conquest; and my Tragedy:  
Heavens singing Motion (that devours lives date,  
The working Organs of the Deity)  
Hast to my Period; when I must be thrown  
From height of Pride, to depth of Acheron.   

Signal is given; and the sound of death,  
Shouts, Drums, and Trumpets deafen all our Ears,  
Breasts, Butts for Shafts; and swords in flesh do sheath,  
Horse, meet with Horse; and Spears are lined with spears;  
Blood, blends with Blood; & Breath doth mix with breath;  
Life, flies with life; and Beeres, are laid by Beeres;  
Mazors to Bills, do stand for Butcher's Blocks,  
Fire, twined with Lightning, Thunder, joined with shocks.   

Bellona raged not so, as I did storm,  
My L●on Spirit hunts Richmond for my prey,  
I outfaced death in his most ugly Form;  
And through the thickest Shocks, I hewed my way;  
My Spirit was like whirlwind, and mine Arm,  
A pointed Comet▪ in this cruel Fray,  
Streaming forth Blood, and foaming Rage, and Gall,  
Deathful my spleen; my Fury, Funeral.   

Unequalled was my more than mortal Ire,  
Hells ever burning limbeck did distill  
The Spirit of Devils, in my quenchless Fire,  
Wishing such power to damn, as heart to kill;  
My winged Horse did Regase my desire;  
Winds, in my Passion; th' Ocean in my Will;  
My cloud-congested Rage, dissolved like Thunder,  
My valour, more prodigious than Wonder.   

But soon my Archers slack their strongest Bent,  
My soldiers Steel rebated; yet (more keen)  
They brandish Malice with one free consent,  
And against me, convert their pointed Spleen;  
Stanley, with Richmond, joins his Regiment,  
Some fled, some stood at gaze, the rest were seen  
With idle action to maintain the Field  
power, faintly answered, argues Will, to yield.   

Then as I had attained the wished Ken  
Of Richmond's self, by noted Marks he wore,  
In bloody sweat I spurred through slaughtered Men,  
To quench my fiery Spirit, with his Gore:  
Brandon (his valiant Standard-Bearer then)  
I slew; with stout opposers, many more,  
And with spent Blood being weak in every part  
I failed to set my Seal on Richmond's Heart.   

My Horse being slain, with him I fell to Ground,  
And yet even then was not disanimate,  
For my high Spirit, above my Flesh did bound,  
Scorning the limit of my mortal Date,  
Till with their thickest Troops enclosed round,  
And wrestling manly with r●alignant Fate,  
They Charactered in wounds my Tyranny,  
And thus performed my bloody Tragedy.   

My Brain they dashed, which flew on every side  
As they would show my Tracts of Policy:  
My years, with stabs; my days, they multiplied  
In drops of Blood; t'express my Cruelty:  
They pierced my heart; evaporating Pride,  
And mangled me like an Anatomy,  
And then with Horses dragged me to my Tomb,  
Thus finished I my Fate by heavens just Doom.   

Ye, that in stately madness of desire,  
Do think yourselves firm Centred in your Spheres;  
Ye that (subjecting Sense) like Gods aspire,  
In rising Hopes, confounding headlong Fears;  
Behold in me, your sudden quenched fire,  
To depth of Hell fallen, from those lofty Stairs:  
Assuage your Thirst betimes; remit your height,  
For if ye fall y'are crushed with your own weight.   

But if ye slight my Counsel: still feed lust,  
Pamper proud flesh; drink sinful Lethaes free;  
Till Time and Death resolve your Trunks to dust,  
Your Souls to Torments, Names to Infamy.  
And so farewell, for back again I must  
Unto the horrid shades of Destiny:  
Now do I sink, as erst in Pride I fell,  
And to leave fame on Earth, thus dived to Hell.   

Now England's Chaos was reduced to order  
By Godlike Richmond; whose successive Stems,  
The hand of Time hath Branched in curious Border,  
Unto the memory of thrice Royal james:  
An Angel's Trump be his true Fame's Recorder,  
And may that Britain Phoebus from his Beams  
In Glories light his influence extend,  
His Offspring, countles; Peace, nor Date, nor End.   Hac decies repetita placebit. 
FINIS.   

Erratas  
C. pag. ● 〈◊〉. 9 〈◊〉 fo● regard, Ibid. p●: 7. ●in. 5. way●e, fo●● vain: F. 〈…〉 for feamelesse; Ibid. lin: 22 〈◊〉 for loves. pag. 7. lin, 16. b●●efull for baneful.