THE Worthiness of Wales: Wherein are more than a thousand several things rehearsed: some set out in prose to the pleasure of the Reader, and with such variety of verse for the beautifying of the Book, as no doubt shall delight thousands to understand.  
Which work is interlarded with many wonders and right strange matter to consider of: All the which labour and device is drawn forth and set out by Thomas Churchyard, to the glory of God, and honour of his Prince and Country.  
¶ Imprinted at London, by G. Robinson, for Thomas Cadman. 1587.   

❧ To the Queen's most Excellent Majesty, Elizabeth, by the grace of God, Queen of England, France and Ireland, etc. Thomas Church-yard wisheth always blessedness, good fortune, victory, and worldly honour, with the increase of quiet reign, virtuous life, and most Princely government.  
MOST Redoubted and Royal Queen, that Kings do fear, Subjects do honour, strangers seek succour of, and people of special spirit acknowledge (as their manifold books declare) I least of all, presume to far, either in presenting matter to be judged of, or to adventure the cracking of credit, with writing any thing, that may breed mislike (presents not well taken) in the deep judgement of so high and mighty a Princess. But where a multitude runs forward (forced through desire or fortune) to show duty, or to see what falleth out of their forwardness, I stepping in among the rest, am driven and led (by affection to follow) beyond the force of my power or feeling of any learned art. So being thrust on with the throng, I finding myself brought before the presence of your Majesty (but barely furnished of knowledge) to whom I must utter some matter of delight, or from whom I must return all abashed with open disgrace. Thus Gracious Lady, under your Princely favour I have undertaken to set forth a work in the honour of Wales, where your highness ancestors took name, and where your Majesty is as much loved and feared, as in any place of your highness dominion. And the love and obedience of which people so exceeds, and surpasseth the common goodwill of the world, that it seemeth a wonder in our age (wherein are so many writers) that no one man doth not worthily according to the country's goodness set forth that noble Soil and Nation. Though in deed divers have slightly written of the same, and some of those labours deserveth the reading, yet except the eye be a witness to their works, the writers can not therein sufficiently yield due commendation to those stately Soils and Principalities. For which cause I have travailed sundry times of purpose through the same, and what is written of I have beheld, and thoroughly seen, to my great contentment and admiration. For the Cities, Towns, and goodly Castles thereof are to be mused on, and merits to be registered in everlasting memory, but chief the Castles (that stand like a company of Forts) may not be forgotten, their buildings are so princely, their strength is so great, and they are such stately seats and defences of nature. To which Castles great Royalty and livings belongeth, and have been and are in the gifts of Princes, now possessed of noble men and such as they appoint to keep them. The royalties whereof are always looked unto, but the Castles do daily decay, a sorrowful sight and in a manner remediless. But now to come to the conditions of the people, & to show somewhat of their courtesy, loyalty, & natural kindness, I presume your Majesty will pardon me to speak of, for of truth your highness is no sooner named among them, but such a general rejoicing doth arise, as maketh glad any good man's heart to behold or hear it, it proceeds of such an affectionate favour. For let the meanest of the Court come down to that country, he shallbe so saluted, halsed and made of, as though he were some Lord's son of that soil, & further the plain people thinks it debt & duty, to follow a stranger's Stirrup (being out of the way) to bring him where he wisheth, which gentleness in all countries is not used, and yet besides all this goodness and great regard, there is neither hew nor cry (for a robbery) in many hundredth miles riding, so whether it be for fear of justice, love of God, or good disposition, small Robberies or none at all are heard of there. They triumph likewise so much of fidelity, that the very name of a falsifier of promise, a murderer or a thief, is most odious among them, especially a Traitor is so hated, that his whole race is rated at and abhorred as I have heard there, report of Parrie and others, who the common people would have torn in pieces if the law had not proceeded. And such regard they have one of another, that neither in market towns, high ways, meetings, nor public assemblies they strive not for place, nor show any kind of roisting: for in stead of such high stomachs and stoutness, they use friendly salutations and courtesy, acknowledging duty thereby, & doing such reverence to their betters, that every one in his degree is so well underctood and honoured, that none can justly say he hath suffered injury, or found offence by the rude & burbarous behaviour of the people. These usages of theirs, with the rest that may be spoken of their civil manner and honest frame of life, doth argue there is some more nobler nature in that Nation, then is generally reported, which I doubt not but your Highness is as willing to hear as I am desirous to make manifest and publish: the hope whereof redoubleth my boldness, and may happily shield me from the hazard of world's hasty judgement, that condemns men without cause for writing that they know, and praising of people before their faces: (which suspicious heads call a kind of adulation) but if telling of troth, be rebukable, and plain speeches be offensive, the ignorant world shall dwell long in errors, and true writers may suddenly sit in silence. I have not only searched sundry good Authors for the confirmation of my matter, but also painfully travailed to try out the substance of that is written, for fear of committing some unpardonable fault and offence, in presenting this Book unto your Highness. Which work, albeit it is but little, (because it treateth not of many Shires) yet greatly it shall rejoice the whole Country of Wales, when they shall hear it hath found favour in your gracious sight, & hath passed through those blessed hands, that holds the rain and bridle of many a stately Kingdom, and territory. And myself shall reap so much gladness, by the free passage of this simple labour, that hereafter I shall go through (GOD sparing life) with the rest of the other Shires not here named. These things only taken in hand, to cause your Highness to know, what puissance and strength such a Princess is of, that may command such a people: and what obedience love and loyalty is in such a Country, as hereunto hath been but little spoken of, and yet deserveth most greatest lawdation. And in deed the more honourable it is, for that your highness princely Ancestors sprung forth of the noble branches of that Nation. Thus dutifully praying for your majesties long preservation, (by whose bounty and goodness I a long while have lived) I wish your Highness all the hap, honour, victory, and heart's ease, that can be desired or imagined.  
Your highness humble Servant and Subject, Thomas Churchyard.   

❧ To every loving and friendly Reader.  
IT may seem strange (good Reader) that I have chosen in the end of my days to travail, and make description of Countries: whereas the beginning of my youth (and a long while after) I have haunted the wars, and written somewhat of Martial Discipline: but as every season breedeth a several humour, and the humours of men are divers: (drawing the mind to sundry dispositions) so common occasion that commands the judgement, hath set me a work, and the warm good will & affection, borne in breast, towards the worthy Country of Wales, hath haled me often forward, to take this labour in hand, which many before have learnedly handled. But yet to show a difference in writing, and a plainness in speech (because plain people affects no flourishing phrase) I have now in as ample a manner (without borrowed terms) as I could, declared my opinion of that sweet Soil and good Subjects thereof, even at that very instant, when Wales was almost forgotten, or scarce remembered with any great lawdation, when it hath merited to be written of: for sundry famous causes most meet to be honoured, and necessary to be touched in. First, the world will confess (or else it shall do wrong) that some of our greatest Kings (that have conquered much) were borne & bred in that Country: which Kings in their times, to the glory of England, have wrought wonders, & brought great benefits to our weal public. Among the same Princes, I pray you give me leave to place our good Queen Elizabeth, and pardon me withal to commit you to the Chronicles, for the seeking out of her Ancestors noble actions, and suffer me to show a little of the goodness, gathered by us, from her majesties well doing, and possessed a long season from her princely and just dealings. An act so noble & notorious, that neither can escape immortal fame, nor shall not pass my pen unresited.  
Now weigh in what plight was our state when she came first to the Crown, and see how soon Religion was reform, (a matter of great moment) peace planted, and wars utterly extinguished, as the sequel yet falleth out.  
Then behold how she succoured the afflicted in France, (let the going to Newhaven bear witness) and chargeably without breaking of League maintained her friends and amazed her enemies.  
Then look into the service and preservation of Scotland (at the siege of Leeth) and see how finely the French were all shipped away (they being a great power) and sent home in such sort, that never since they had mind to return thither again, in that fashion and form that they sailed towards Scotland at the first.  
Then consider how base our money was, & in what short time (with little loss to our Country) the bad coin was converted to good silver: and so is like to continue to the end of the world.  
Then in the advancing of God's word and good people, regard how Rochel was relieved, and Rone and other places found cause to pray for her life, who sought to purchase their peace and see them in safety.  
Then think on the care she took for Flaunders, during the first troubles, and how that Country had been utterly destroyed, if her highness helping hand had not propped up that tottering State.  
Then Christianly conceive how many mul●itudes of strangers she hath given gracious countenance unto, and hath freely licenced them to live here in peace and rest.  
Then poise in an equal balance the dangerous estate of Scotland once again, when the Kings own Subjects kept the Castle of Edenbrough against their own natural Lord & Master: which presumptuous part of Subjects, her Highness could not abide to behold: whereupon she sent a sufficient power to aid the King's Majesty: which power valiantly won the Castle, and freely delivered the same to the right owner thereof, with all the treasure and prisoners therein.  
Then regard how honourably she hath dealt with divers Princes that came to see her, or needed her magnificent supportation and countenance.  
Then look thoroughly into the mightiness & managing of all matters gone about and put in exercise princely, and yet peaceably since the day of her highness Coronation, and you shallbe forced to confess that she surmounts a great number of her Predecessors: and she is not at this day no whit inferior to the greatest Monarch of the world.  
Is not such a peerless Queen then, a comfort to Wales, a glory to England, and a great rejoicing to all her good neighbours? And doth not she daily deserve to have books dedicated in the highest degree of honour to her Highness? Yes undoubtedly, or else my senses and judgement faileth me.  
So (good Reader) do judge of my labours: my pen is procured by a band of causes to write as far as my knowledge may lead: and my duty hath no end of service, nor no limits are set to a loyal Subject, but to wish and work to the uttermost of power.  
Within this work are several discourses: some of the beauty & blessedness of the Country: some of the strength and stateliness of their impregnable Castles: some of their trim Towns and fine situation: some of their antiquity, showing from what Kings and Princes they took their first name and prerogative. So generally of all manner of matters belonging to that Soil, as Churches, Monuments, Mountains, Valleys, Waters, Bridges, fair gentlemen's houses, and the rest of things whatsoever, may become a writer's pen to touch, or a reader's judgement to know. I writ not contenciously to find fault with any, or confute the former writers and time: 
William Malmesburie de regibus anglorum. David powel a late writer, yet excellently learned, made a sharp invective against William parvus and polidor Virgil (& all their complices) accusing them of lying tongues, envious detraction, malicious slanders, reproachful and venomous language, wilful ignorance, dogged envy, and cankered minds, for that they spoke unreverently of Arthur, and many other thrice noble Princes. Jeffrey of Monmouth. Matthew of Westminster, and others are here in like sort to be read & looked on.  but to advance and win credit to the present truth, agreeing and yielding to all former times and ages, that hath justly given every Nation their due, and truly without affection hath set down in plain words the worthiness of plain people: for I honour and love as much a true Author, as I hate and detest a reporter of trifling fables. A true History is called the Mistress of life: and yet all Historiographers in writing of one thing, agree not well one with another: because the writers were not present in the times, in the places, nor saw the persons they make mention of: but rather have leaned and listened on the common report, than stayed or trusted to their own experience.  
Strabo a most famous writer finds fault (for the like occasion) with Erstaotheus, Metrodorus, Septius, Possidonius, and Patrocles the Geographer: And such discord did arise among writers in time past, as josephus saith against Appio, that they reproved one another by books, and all men in general reproved Herodotus.  
God shield me from such caviling: for I deliver but what I have seen and read: alleging for defence both ancient Authors, and good trial of that is written. Wherefore (loving Reader) do rather struggle with those two strong pillars of knowledge, than strive with the weakness of my invention: which to avoid sharpness (and bitter words) is sweetened and seasoned with gentle verses, more pleasant to some men's ears than prose, and under whose smooth grace of speech, more acceptable matter is conveyed, than the common sort of people can comprehend. For verses like a familiar friend (with a gallant phrase) rides quietly by thousands, and dasheth no one person, and galloping cleanly away merits no rebuke: when prose with a soft pace cannot with such cunning pass unperceived. But all is one when in neither of both is found no matter of mistrust, nor speeches to offend, there is no cause of dislike. So craving thy good opinion, good Reader farewell.   


❧ A true note of the ancient Castles, famous Monuments, goodly Rivers, fair Bridges, fine Towns, and courteous people, that I have seen in the noble Country of Wales.  

THrough sundry Soils, 
The Author's troublesome life briefly set down.  and stately Kingdoms rich,  
Long have I traest, to tread out time and years:  
Where I at will, have surely seen right mitch,  
As by my works, and printed books appears.  
And wearied thus, with toil in foreign place,  
I homeward drew, to take some rest a space:  
But labouring mind, that rests not but in bed,  
Began a fresh, to trouble restless head.   

Then new-found toils, that hales men all in haste,  
To run on head, and look not where they go:  
Bade reason ride, where love should be enbraste,  
And where time could, his labour best bestow.  
To Wales (quoth Wit), there doth plain people dwell,  
So mayst thou come, to heaven out of hell:  
For France is fine, 
A short note of the nature of many Countries, with the disposition of the people there.  and full of faithless ways,  
Poor Flaunders gross, and far from happy days.   

Rich Spain is proud, and stern to strangers all,  
In Italy, poisoning is always rife:  
And Germany, to Drunkenness doth fall,  
The Danes likewise, do lead a bibbing life.  
The Scots seek blood, and bear a cruel mind,  
Ireland grows nought, the people ware unkind:  
England God wots, hath learned such lewdness late,  
That Wales methinks, is now the soundest state.   

In all the rest, of Kingdoms far or near,  

A commendation of the loyalty of Welshmen.  A trick or two, of treachery stains the Soil:  
But since the time, that rule and law came here,  
This British land, was never put to foil,  
For foul offence, or fault it did commit:  
The people here, in peace doth quiet sit,  
Obeys the Prince, without revolt or jar,  
Because they know, ethe smart of Civil war.   


A rehearsal of great strife and dissension that ruinated Wales.  Whiles quarrels rage, did nourish ruin and wrack,  
And Owen Glendore, set bloody broils abroach:  
Full many a Town, was spoiled and put to sack,  
And clean consumed, to Country's foul reproach.  
Great Castles razed, fair Buildings burnt to dust,  
Such revel reigned, that men did live by lust:  
But since they came, and yielded unto Law,  
Most meek as Lamb, within one yoke they draw.   


How Law and love links men together like brethren.  Like brethren now, do Welshmen still agree,  
In as much love, as any men alive:  
The friendship there, and concord that I see,  
I do compare, to Bees in Honey hive.  
Which keep in swarm, and hold together still,  
Yet gladly show, to stranger great good will:  
A courteous kind, of love in every place,  
A man may find, in simple people's face.   


The accustomed courtesy of Wales.  Pass where you please, on Plain or Mountain wild,  
And bear yourself, in sweet and civil sort:  
And you shall sure, be haulst with man and child,  
Who will salute, with gentle comely port  
The passers by: on braves they stand not so,  
Without good speech, to let a trau'ler go:  
They think it dett, and duty frank and free,  
In Town or field, to yield you cap and knee.   

They will not strive, 
No such theft and robbery in Wales as in other Countries.  to roist and take the way,  
Of any man, that travails through their Land:  
A greater thing, of Wales now will I say,  
Ye may come there, bear purse of gold in hand,  
Or mighty bags, of silver stuffed throw,  
And no one man, dare touch your treasure now:  
Which shows some grace, doth rule and guide them there,  
That doth to God, and man such Conscience bear.   

Behold besides, a further thing to note,  
The best cheap cheer, 
Victuals good cheap in most part of Wales.  they have that may be found:  
The shot is great, when each man's pays his groat,  
If all alike, the reckoning runneth round.  
There market good, and victuals nothing dear,  
Each place is filled, with plenty all the year:  
The ground mannurde, the grain doth so increase,  
That thousands live, in wealth and blessed peace.   

But come again, 
A great rebuke to those that speaks not truly of Wales.  unto their courteous shoe,  
That wins the hearts, of all that marks the same:  
The like whereof, through all the world do go,  
And scarce ye shall, find people in such frame.  
For meek as Dove, in looks and speech they are,  
Not rough and rude, (as spiteful tongues declare)  
No sure they seem, no sooner out of shell,  
(But nature shows) they know good manners well. 
Good disposition never wants good manners.    

How can this be, that weaklings nursed so hard,  
(Who barely goes, both barefoot and uncled)  
In gifts of mind, should have so great regard,  
Except within, from birth some grace were bred.  
It must be so, do wit not me deceive,  
What nature gives, the world cannot bereave:  
In this remains, a secret work divine,  
Which show they rise, from ancient race and line.   


Good & true Authors that affirms more goodness in Wales than I writ of.  In Author's old, you shall that plainly read,  
Geraldus one, and learned Geffrey two:  
The third for troth, is Venerable Bede,  
That many grave, and worthy works did do.  
What needs this proof, or genalogies here,  
Their noble blood, doth by their lives appear:  
Their stately Towns, and Castles every where,  
Of their renown, doth daily witness bear.    

A description of Monmouth Shire.  


Two Rivers by Mommouth, the one called Monnow, and the other Wye.  FIrst I begin, at ancient Monmouth now,  
That stands by Wye, a River large and long:  
I will that Shire, and other Shires go throw,  
Describe them all, or else I did them wrong.  
It is great blame, to writers of our days,  
That treats of world, and gives to Wales no praise:  
They rather hide, in cloud (and cunning foil)  
That Land than yield, right glory to that Soil,   


King Henry the fifth.  A King of ours, was borne in Monmouth sure,  

near the Town Sir Charles Harbert of Troy dwelled in a fair Seat called Troy.  The Castle there, records the same a right:  
And though the walls, which cannot still endure,  
Through sore decay, shows nothing fair to sight.  
In Seat itself, (and well placed City old)  
By view ye may, a Princely plot behold:  
Good minds they had, 
At Wynestow now dwells Sir Thomas Harbert, a little from the same Troy.  that first those walls did raise,  
That makes our age, to think on elders days.   

The King here borne, did prove a peerless Prince,  
He conquered France, and reigned nine years in hap:  
There was not here, so great a Victor since,  
That had such chance, and Fortune in his lap.  
For he by fate, and force did covet all,  
And as turn came, struck hard at Fortune's ball:  
With manly mind, and ran a ready way,  
To lose a joint, or win the Goal by play.   

If Monmouth bring, 
Master Roger Ieames dwelled at Troy near this Town.  such Princes forth as this,  
A Soil of grace, it shallbe called of right:  
Speak what you can, a happy Seat it is,  
A trim Shire town, for Noble, Barron or Knight.  
A City sure, as free as is the best,  
Where Size is kept, and learned Lawyer's rest:  
Built ancient wise, 

The Earl of Worcester's house and Castle.  
The Earl of Penbroke that was created Earl by King Edward the 4. built the Castle of Raggland sumptuously at the first.  
Earl of Worcester Lord hereof.  
A fair bridge. Master Lewis of Saint Peer dwells near that.   in sweet and wholesome air,  
Where the best sort, of people oft repair.   

Not far from thence, a famous Castle fine,  
That Raggland hight, stands moated almost round:  
Made of Freestone, upright as strait as line,  
Whose workmanship, in beauty doth abound.  
The curious knots, wrought all with edged tool,  
The stately Tower, that looks o'er Pond and Poole:  
The Fountain trim, that runs both day and night,  
Doth yield in show, a rare and noble sight.   

Now Chepstowe comes, to mind (as well it may)  
Whose Seat is set, some part upon an hill:  
And through the Town, to Neawport lies a way,  
That o'er a Bridge, on Wye you ride at will.  
This Bridge is long, the River swift and great,  
The Mountain big, about doth shade the Seat:  

Sir Charles Somerset at the Grange doth dwell now.  The craggy Rocks, that o'er the Town doth lie.  
Of force far of, doth hinder view of eye.   

The common Port, and Haven is so good,  
It merits praise, because Barks there do ride:  

Sir William Morgan that is dead dwelled at Pennycoyd.  To which the Sea, comes in with flowing flood,  
And doth four hours, above the Bridge abide.  
Beyond the same, doth Tyntterne Abbey stand,  
As old a Sell, as is within that Land:  


Harbert of Colbroke buried there.  
Chepstow. In the Castle there is an ancient tower called Longis tower, whereby rests a tale to be considered of.  
Of this Earl is a great and worthy tale to be heard A piece of a pedigree.  
Earl Strongbowe was married to the King of Lynsters' Daughter in Ireland, and this Strongbowe won by force of arms the earldoms of Wolster & tyrol.   Where divers things, hath been right worthy note,  
Whereof as yet, the troth I have not got.   

To Chepstowe yet, my pen again must pass,  
Where Strongbow once, (an Earl of rare renown)  
A long time since, the Lord and Master was  
(In princely sort) of Castle and of Town.  
Then after that, to Mowbray it befell,  
Of Norfolk Duke, a worthy known full well:  
Who sold the samet, o William Harbert Knight,  
That was the Earl, of Pembroke then by right.   

His eldest Son, that did succeed his place,  
(Of Huntyngton: and Pembroke Earl likewise)  
Had but one child, a Daughter of great race:  
And she was matched, with pomp and solemn guise,  
To Somerset, that was Lord Chamberlain,  
And made an Earl, in Henry sevenths reign:  
Of him doth come, Earl Worster living now,  
Who buildeth up, the house of Raggland throw.    

A Creation of an Earl.  

EDward by the grace of God, King most imperial,  
Of France, & England, & the Lord of Ireland therewithal,  
To Archbishops, & Bishops all, to Abbots and to Priors  
To Dukes, to Earls, to Barons, & to Sheriffs of the shires,  
To justices, to Majors, and chief of Townly government,  
To Baylieffes, & my lichefolke all, have herewith greeting sent.  
Know ye whereas we judge it is a gracious Prince his part,  
To yield love, favour, and reward to men of great desert:  
Who of himself, his Royal house, and of the public state,  
Have well deserved, their virtues rare ever to remunerate:  
And to adorn with high reward, such virtue clear and bright,  
Stirs others up to great attempts, and faintness puts to flight.  
We following on the famous course, the former Kings have run,  
That worthy & approved wight, whose deeds most nobly dun,  
Have greatest things of us deserved, we do intend to raise,  
To fame and honours highest type, with gifts of Princely praise,  
That truly regal are we mean, that valiant worthy Knight,  
That William Herbert hath to name, & now L. Herbert hight.  
Whose service when we first did reign, we did most faithful find.  
When for our royal right we fought, which still we call to mind:  
To which we add from then till now, continual services,  
Which many were whereof each one, to us most pleasing is.  
And chief when as lately now, his deeds did him declare,  
A worthy Knight whereby he gained, both fame and glory rare:  
When as that Rebel and our foe, even jasper Tudyrs son,  
who said he Earl of Penbroke was, did westwales coast o'errun.  
And there by subtle shifts and force, did divers sundry ways  
Annoy our State, and therewithal a vile Sedition raise.  
But there he gave to him a field, and with a valiant hand  
O'erthrew him and his forces all, that on his part did stand.  
And marching all along those Coasts, the most he flew out right,  
The rest he broke and so dispersed, they gave themselves to flight.  
Our Castle then of Hardelach, that from our first days reign,  
A refuge for all Rebels did, against us still remain:  
A Fort of wondrous force, besiege about did he,  
And took it, where in most men's minds, it could not taken be.  
He won it & did make them yield, who there their safety sought,  
And all the Country thereabouts, to our obedience brought.  
These therefore his most worthy Acts, we calling into mind,  
His services and great deserts, which we praise worthy find:  
And for that cause we willing him, with honours royally  
For to adorn, deck, and advance, and to sublime on high▪  
The eight day of September, in the eight year of our Reign▪  
We by this Charter, that for ours shall firm for ever remain▪  
Of special grace and knowledge sure, sound and determinate,  
And motion mere him William do, of Penbroke Count create  
Erect, prefer, and unto him the Title stile and state,  
And name thereof and dignity, forever appropriate,  
As Earl of Penbroke and withal, we give all rights that do  
All honours and pre-eminence, that state pertain unto:  
With which estate, stile, honour, great, and worthy dignity,  
By cincture of a Sword, we him ennoble really.   


The Author's verses in the honour of noble minds.  For that the sense, and worthy words were great,  
The service such, as merits noble fame:  
The form thereof, in verse I do repeat,  
And show likewise, the Latin of the same.  
He served a King, that could him well reward,  
And of his house, and race took great regard,  
And recompensed, his manly doing right,  
With honour due, to such a noble Knight.   


Good men are made of, and bad men rebuked.  Where loyal mind, doth offer life and all,  
For to preserve, the Prince and public state:  
There doth great hap, and thankful Fortune fall,  
As guerdon sent, by destiny and good fate.  
No Sovereign can, forget a Subjects troth,  
With whose good grace, great love and favour goeth:  
Great gifts and place, great glory and renown,  
They get and gain, that truly serves a Crown.   

And thou my Knight, that art his heir in blood,  

Sir William Harbert of ●●●nt Gillyans.  Though Lordship, land, and Ragglands' stately towers,  
A female heir, and force of fortune's flood  
Have thee bereft, yet bear'st his fruits and flowers:  
His arms, his name, his faith and mind are thine,  
By nature, nurture, art and grace divine:  
o'er Seas and Lands, these move thee pains to take,  
For God, for fame, for thy sweet sovereigns sake.   

❧ Here followeth the Creation of an Earl of Penbroke in Latin.  
EDwardus Dei gracia Rex Angliae & Fraunciae & Dominus Hiberniç, Archiepiscopis, Episcopis, Abbatibus, Prioribus, Ducibus, Comitibus, Baronibus, justiciarijs, Vicecomitibus, Prepositis, Ministris, & omnibus Ballivis, & fidelibus suis, salutem. Sciatis quod cum felicis & grati admodum Regis munus censeamus, de se, de Regia domo, deque Republica & regno bene meritas personas, congruis amore, benevolentia & liberalitate prosequi: denique & juxta eximias probitates, easdem magnificentiùs ornare & decorare, quatenus in personis huiuscemodi congestis clarissimis virtutum praemijs ceteri, socordia ignaviaque sepositis ad peragenda pulcherrima quaeque facinora laud & gloria concitentur: Nos ne à maiorum nron laudatissimis moribus discedere videamur, nostri esse officij putamus probatissimum nobis virum qui ob res ab se clarissimè gestas quàm maxima de nobis promeruit, condignis honorum fastigijs attollere & verè regijs insignire muneribus. Strenuum & insignem loquimur militem Willūm Herbert Dominum Herbart, iam defunctum, cuius in regni nostri primordijs obsequia gratissima tum nobis multipliciter impensa cum nron pro iure decertaretur, satis ambiguè oblivisci non possumus accessere & de post in hoc usque temporis continuata seruicia, que non parum nobis fuere complacita, presertim nuperimis hijs diebus quibus optimum se gessit militem, ac non mediocres sibi laudis & fame titulos comparavit. Hijs equidem iampridem cum Rebellis, hostisque nostri Iasper Owini Tedur fillium, nuper Pembrochiae se Comitem dicens, Walliae partes pervaderet, multaque arte ad contra nos & statum nostrum vilem populo seditionem concitandum truculentiam moliretur, societatis sibi ad eandem rem conficiendam electissimis viris fidelibus nostris arma cepit, confligendi copiam hostibus exhibuit, adeoque valida manu pervasus ab ipsis partes pervagatus est & nusquam eye locum permiserit quo non eos complicesque affligauerit, vires eorumdem fregerit, morteque affecerit, seu desperantes in fugam propulerit, demum Castrum nostrum de Hardelagh nobis ab initio regni nostri contrarium, quo unicum miseris patebat refugium, obsidione vallabat, quod capi impossible ferebatur, cepit, inclusos que ad deditionem compulit, adiacentem quoque primam omnem nostram Regiae Maiestati rebellem hactenus ad summam obedientiam reduxit. Haec itaque sua laudabilia obsequia, promeritaque memoriter & ut decet intimè recolentes volentesque proinde eundem Willūm condignis honoribus, regalibúsque praemijs ornare amplicare & sublimare, octavo die Septembris anno regni nostri octavo, per Chartam nostram de gratia nostra speciali ac ex certa scientia & mero motu nostris ipsum Willūm in Comitem Pembrochiae ereximus, praefecerimus, & creaverimus, & ei nomen, statum, stilum, titulum, & dignitatem Comitis Pembrochie cum omnibus & singulis preëminencijs honoribus & ceteris quibuscunque huius statui Comitis pertinentibus, sive congruis dederimus & concesserimus, ipsumque huiusmodi statu, stilo, titulo, honore, & dignitate per cincturam gladij insigniverimus, & realiter nobilitaverimus.   

This was set down, for causes more than one,  
The world believes, no more than it hath seen:  
When things lie dead, and time is past and gone,  
Blind people say, it is not so we ween.  
It is a tale, devised to please the ear,  
More for delight, of toys than troth may bear:  
But those that thinks, this may a fable be,  
To Authors good, I send them here from me.   

First let them search, Records as I have done,  
Then shall they find, this is most certain true:  
And all the rest, before I here begun,  
Is taken out, not of no writers nue.  
The oldest sort, and soundest men of skill  
Mine Authors are, now read their names who will:  
Their works, their words, and so their learning through,  
Shall show you all, what troth I writ of now.   
BEcause many that favoured not Wales (parsiall writers and historians) have written & set down their own opinions, as they pleased to publish of that Country: I therefore a little degress from the orderly matter of the book, and touch somewhat the works and words of them that rashly have written more than they knew, or well could prove.  

As learned men, hath wrote grave works of yore,  
So great regard, to native Soil they had:  
For such respect, I blame now Pollydore:  
Because of Wales, his judgement was but bad.  
If Buckanan, the Scottish Poet late  
Were here in spirit, of Britons to debate:  
He should find men, that would with him dispute,  
And many a pen, which would his works confute.   

But with the dead, the quick may never strive,  
(Though sundry works, of theirs were little worth)  
Yet better far, they had not been alive,  
Than sow such seeds, as brings no goodness forth:  
Their praise is small, that plucks back others fame,  
Their love not great, that blots out neighbour's name,  
Their books but brawls, their babble bald and bare,  
That in disdain, of fables writers are.   

What fable more, then say they know that thing  
They never saw, and so give judgement straight:  
And by their books, the world in error bring,  
That thinks it reads, a matter of great weight.  
When that a tale, of much untruth is told:  
Thus all that shines, and glisters is not gold:  
Nor all the books, that ancient Fathers wrote  
Are not alo'wd, for troth in every state.   

Though Caesar was, a wise and worthy Prince,  
And conquered much, of Wales and England both:  
The writers than, and other Authors since.  
Did flatter time, and still abuse the troth.  
Same for a fee, and some did humours feed,  
When sore was healed, to make a wound to bleed:  
And some sought means, their patient still to please,  
When body throw, was full of foul disease.   

The worldly wits, that with each time would wag,  
Were carried clean, away from wisdoms lore:  
They rather watched, to fill an empty bag,  
Than touch the time, then present or before:  
Nor cared not much, for future time to come,  
They rolled up time, like thread about the thome:  
And when their clue, on trifles all was spent,  
Much rotten stuff, unto the garment went.   

Which stuff patched up, a piece of homely ware,  
In Printers shop, set out to sale sometime:  
Which ill wrought work, at length became so bare,  
It neither served, for prose nor pleasant rhyme:  
But past like that, and old wives tales full vain,  
That thunders long, but never brings forth rain:  
A kind of sound, that makes a hurling noise,  
To fear young babes, with brute of bugs and toys.   

But aged sires, of riper wit and skill,  
Disdains to read, such rabble farst with lies:  
This is enough, to show you my goodwill  
Of Authors true, and writers grave and wise.  
Whose pen shall prove, each thing in printed book,  
Whose eyes withal, on matter strange did look:  
And whose great charge, and labour witness bears,  
Their words are just, they offer to your ears.   

Each Nation had, some writer in their days  
For to advance, their Country to the Stars:  
Homer was one, who gave the Greeks great praise,  
And honoured not, the Trojans for their wars.  
Livi among, the Romans wrote right mitch,  
With rare renown, his Country to enrich:  
And Pollidore, did ply the pen a pace,  
To blur strange Soils, and yield the Romans grace.   

Admit they wrote, their volumes all of troth,  
(And did affect, ne man nor matter then)  
Yet writer sees, not how all matters goeth  
In field: when he, at home is at his pen.  
This Pollidore, saw never much of Wales,  
Though he have told, of Britons many tales:  
Caesar himself, a Victor many a way,  
Went not so far, as Pollidore doth say.   

King's are obeyed, where they were never seen,  
And men may write, of things they hear by ear:  
So Pollidore, oft times might overwéene,  
And speak of Soils, yet he came never there.  
Some run a ground, that through each water sails,  
A Pilot good, in his own Compass fails:  
A writer that▪ believes in world's report,  
May rove to far, or surely shoot to short.   

The eye is judge, as Lantern clear of light,  
That searcheth through, the dim and darkest place:  
The gladsome eye, gives all the body sight,  
It is the glass, and beauty of the face.  
But where no face, nor judging eye doth come,  
The sense is blind, the spirit is deaf and doom:  
For wit can not, conceive till sight send in  
Some skill to head, whereby we knowledge win.   

If strangers speak, but strangely on our state,  
Think nothing strange, though strangers writ amiss:  
If strangers do, our native people hate,  
Our Country knows, how strange their nature is.  
Most strange it were, to trust a foreign foe,  
Or favour those, that we for strangers know:  
Then strangely read, the books that strangers make,  
For fear ye shroud, in bosom stinging Snake.   


Polidorus Virgilius spoke all of his own nations praise, and saw but little of Britain, nor loved the same.  The strangers still, in ancient time that wrote,  
Exalt themselves, and keeps us under foot:  
As we of kind, and nature do them hate,  
So bear they rust, and canker at the root  
Of heart, to us, when pen to paper goeth,  
Their cunning can, with craft so cloak a troth,  
That hardly we, shall have them in the wind,  
To smell them forth, or yet their fineness find.   

Of force then must, you credit our own men,  

Venerable bede, a noble writer.  (Whose virtues works, a glorious garland gains)  
Who had the gift, the grace and art of pen:  
And who did write, with such sweet flowing veins,  

Gildas, a passing Poet of Britain.  That Honey seemed, to drop from Poet's quill:  
I say no more, trust strangers and ye will,  
Our Country breeds, as faithful men as those,  
As famous too, in stately verse or prose.   


Sibilla, a divine Prophesiar & writer.  And truth I trow, is liked among us best:  
For each man frowns, when fabling toys they hear,  
And though we count, but Robin Hood a jest,  
And old wives tales, as tattling toys appear:  
Yet Arthur's reign, the world cannot deny,  
Such proof there is, 
Merilinus Ambrose, a man of high knowledge & spirit.  the troth thereof to try:  
That who so speaks, against so grave a thing,  
Shall blush to blot, the fame of such a King.   

Condemn the days, of elders great or small,  
And then blur out, the course of present time:  
Cast one age down, and so do o'erthrow all,  
And burn the books, of printed prose or rhyme:  
Who shall believe, he rules or she doth reign  
In time to come, if writers lose their pain:  
The pen records, time past and present both,  
Skill brings forth books, and books is nurse to troth.    

Now follows the Castles and Towns near Oske, and there abouts.  

A Pretty Town, 
A description of Oske.  called Oske near Raggland stands,  
A River there, doth bear the self-same name:  
His crystal streams, that runs along the Sands,  
Shows that it is, a River of great fame.  
Fresh water sweet, this goodly River yields,  
And when it swells, it spreads over all the fields:  
Great store of Fish, is caught within this flood,  
That doth in deed, both Town and Country good.   

A thing to note, 
Two Rivers near together of several natures, shows a strange thing.  when Salmon fails in Wye,  
(And season there: goes out as order is)  
Than still of course, in Oske doth Sammons lie,  
And of good Fish, in Oske you shall not mis.  
And this seems strange, as doth through Wales appear,  
In some one place, are Sammons all the year:  
So fresh, so sweet, so red, so crimp withal,  
As man might say, lo, Salmon here at call.   


King Edward the fourth and his children, (as some affirm), and King Richard the third, were borne here.  A Castle there, in Oske doth yet remain,  
A Seat where Kings, and Princes have been borne▪  
It stands full over, a goodly pleasant Plain,  
The walls whereof, and towers are all to torn,  
(With wether's blast, and time that wears all out)  
And yet it hath, a fair prospect about:  
Trim Meads and walks, along the rivers side,  
With Bridge well built, the force of flood to bide.   

Upon the side, of woody hill full fair,  

Castle Strogen doth yet remain three mile from Oske, but the Castle is almost clean down.  This Castle stands, full sore decayed and broke:  
Yet builded once, in fresh and wholesome air,  
Full near great Woods, and many a mighty Oak.  
But sith it wears, and walls so wastes away,  
In praise thereof, I mind not much to say:  
Each thing decayed, goes quickly out of mind,  
A rotten house, doth but few favours find.   


In the Duchy of Lancaster, these three Castles are, but not in good plight any way.  Three Castles fair, are in a goodly ground,  
Grosmont is one, on Hill it builded was:  
Skenfreth the next, in Ualley is it found,  
The Soil about, for pleasure there doth pass.  
Whit Castle is, the third of worthy fame,  
The Country there, doth bear Whit Castles name,  
A stately Scate, a lofty princely place,  
Whose beauty gives, the simple Soils some grace.   


The Duke of York once lay here, and now the Castle is in Master Roger willyam's hands.  Two miles from that, upon a mighty Hill,  
Langibby stands, a Castle once of state:  
Where well you may, the Country view at will,  
And where there is, some buildings new of late.  
A wholesome place, a passing plat of ground,  
As good an air, as there abouts is found:  
It seems to sight, the Seat was placed so well,  
In elders days, some Duke therein did dwell.   

Carleon now, 
A description of Carleon.  step in with stately style,  
No feeble phrase, may serve to set thee forth:  
Thy famous Town, was spoke of many a mile,  
Thou hast been great, 
Master Morgan of Lanternam in a fair house dwells two mile from Carleon.  though now but little worth.  
Thy noble bounds, hath reached beyond them all,  
In thee hath been, King Arthur's golden Hall:  
In thee the wise, and worthies did repose,  
And through thy Town, the water ebbs and flows.   

COme learned lore with lofty style, 
A plain and true rehearsal of matter of great antiquity.   
and lead these lines of mine:  
Come gracious Gods, and spare a while  
to me the Muses nine.  
Come Poets all, whose passing phrase  
doth pierce the finest wits:  
Come knowledge whereon world doth gaze, 
A fair Fountain now begun.   
(yet still in judgement sits)  
And help my pen to play his part, 
A free School now erected by Master Morgan of Lanternam.   
for pen is stepped on stage,  
To show by skill and cunning art,  
the state of former age.  
For present time hath friends enough,  
to flatter faun and feign: 
A gird to the flatterers and fawners of present tyme.   
And elders days I know not how,  
do dwell in deep disdain.  
No friend for ancient years we find,  
our age loves youth alone: 
A house of reformation newly begun likewise.   
The former age wears out of mind,  
as though such time were none.   

King Arthur's reign (though true it wear) 
The Bishop of Landaffe still lying in the Town.   
Is now of small account:  

We praise and extol strange Nations, and forget or abase our own Countries.  The same of Troy is known each where,  
And to the Skies doth mount.   

Both Athens, Theabes, and Carthage too  
We hold of great renown:  
What then I pray you shall we do,  
To poor Carleon Town.   


In Aaron's the Martyr's Church King Arthur was crowned.  King Arthur sure was crowned there,  
It was his royal Seat:  
And in that Town did Sceptre bear,  
With pomp and honour great.   


Three Archbishops, York London, and Carleon, crowning King Arthur.  An Archbishop that Dubrick hight,  
Did crown this King in deed:  
Four Kings before him bore in sight,  
Four golden Swords we reed.   


Arthur was great, that commanded such solemnity.  These Kings were famous of renown,  
Yet for their homage due:  
Repayrd unto Carleon Town,  
As I rehearse to you.   


The true Authors are in the beginning of this book for proof of this.  How many Dukes, and Earls withal,  
Good Authors can you tell:  
And so true writers show you shall,  
How Arthur there did dwell.   

What Court he kept, what Acts he did,  
What Conquest he obtained:  
And in what Princely honour still,  
King Arthur long remained.   


Another notable solemnity at a Coronation.  Queen Guenever was crowned likewise,  
In julius Church they say:  
Where that four Queens in solemn guise, 
In julius Church the Martyr the Queen was crowned. An honour rare and great yet seldom seen.   
(In royal rich array).   

Four Pigeons white, bore in their hands  
Before the Princess face:  
In sign the Queen of British Lands,  
Was worthy of that grace.   

Carleon lodged all these Kings,  
And many a noble Knight:  
As may be proved by sundry things,  
That I have seen in sight.   

The bounds hath been nine miles about,  
The length thereof was great:  
It shows itself this day throughout,  
It was a Prince's Seat.   

In Arthur's time a Table round, 
A deep and large round piece of ground shows yet where Arthur sat.   
Was there whereat he sat:  
As yet a plot of goodly ground,  
Sets forth that rare estate,   

The City reached to Crete church than, 
A Church on a hill a mile of. Saint Gillyans is a fair house where Sir William Harbert dwells.   
And to Saint Gillyans both:  
Which yet appears to view of man,  
To try this tale a troth.   

There are such Vaults and hollow Caves,  
Such walls and Conduits deep:  
Made all like pipes of earthen pots,  
Wherein a child may creep.   

Such streets and pavements sundry ways, 
Wonderful huge and long pavements.   
To every market Town:  
Such Bridges built in elders days,  
And things of such renown.   


The notablest seat to behold being on the top that may be seen.  As men may muse of to behold,  
But chief for to note:  
There is a Castle very old,  
That may not be forgot.   


The Castle almost down.  It stands upon a forced Hill,  
Not far from flowing flood:  
Where lo ye view long Uales at will,  
Environed all with wood.   


The flowing water may easily be brought about both Town and Castle.  A Seat for any King alive,  
The Soil it is so sweet:  
Fresh springs doth streams of water drive,  
Almost through every street.   

From Castle all these things are seen,  

A great beauty of grounds, waters, groves, & other pleasures for the eye to be seen from the old Castle of Carleon.  as pleasures of the eye:  
The goodly Groves and valleys green,  
and woody Mountains high.  
The crooked creeks and pretty Brooks,  
that are amid the Plain:  
The flowing Tides that spreads the land,  
and turns to Sea again.  
The stately Woods that like a hoop,  

I have seen Caves under ground (at this day) that go I know: not how far, all made of excellent work, and goodly great stones both over head and under foot, & close and fine round about the whole Cave.  doth compass all the vale:  
The Princely plots that stands in troup,  
to beautify the Dale.  
The Rivers that doth daily run,  
as clear as crystal stone:  
Shows that most pleasures under Sun,  
Carleon had alone.   

Great ruth to see so brave a Soil,  
Fall in so sore decay:  
In sorrow sit, full near the foil,  
As Fortune fled away.   

And world forsook to knowledge those,  
That erst hath been so great:  
Where Kings and grave Philosophers,  
Made once therein their Seat.   

Vrbs legionum was it named, 
The name so mighty argues it was a mighty and noble town.   
In Caesar's days I trow:  
And Arthur holding resdence there,  
(As stories plainly show).   

Not only Kings and noble Peers, 
Two hundred Philosophers were nourished in Carleon.   
Repaired unto that place:  
But learned men full many years,  
Received therein their grace.   

Than you that ancient things denies,  
Let now your talk surcease:  
When proof is brought before your eyes,  
Ye ought to hold your peace.   

And let Carleon have his right,  
And joy his wont fame: 
Yield right as well to our elders days, as to our present age.   
And let each wise and worthy wight,  
Speak well of Arthur's name.   

Would God the brute thereof were known,  
In Country, Court, and Town:  
And she that sits in reagall Throne,  
With Sceptre, Sword, and Crown.   

(Who came from Arthur's race and line)  
Would mark these matters throw:  
And show thereon her gracious eyen,  
To help Carleon now.   

Thus far my pen in Arthur's praise,  
Hath passed for plainness sake:  
In honour of our elders days,  
That keeps my muse awake.   

All only for to publish plain,  
Time past, time present both:  
That time to come, may well retain,  
Of each good time, the troth.   

¶ An Introduction to the Letters sent from Lucius Tiberius, at the Coronation of King Arthur.  
NOt unwilling to delate and make large the matter now written of, & further because the reign of King Arthur is diversly treated on and uncertainly spoken of (the men of this world are grown so wise) I have searched and found (in good Authors) such certainty of King Arthur, and matter that merits the reading, that I am compelled with pen to explain, and with some pains and study to present the world with in general. The substance whereof being in Latin, (may be read and understood by thousands) is englished because the common sort (as well as the learned) shall see how little the Kings and Princes of this Land, have esteemed the power of the Romans, or manasing and force of any foreign foe whatsoever. And for the amending of my tale, let our Sovereign Lady be well considered of, (whose graces passeth my pen to show) and you shall see great things are encountered, and no small matters gone about and brought to good pass, in the action afore named: which becometh well a Queen of that race, who is descended of so noble a progeny. But now purposing orderly to proceed to the former discourse, and to rehearse word for word, as it was left by our forefathers, (men of great learning and knowledge) I have set down some such Letters and Orations, as peradventure will make you to marvel of, or at the least to think on so much, that some one among a multitude, will yield me thanks for my labour, and rather encourage a true writer to continue in the like exercises, then to give him any occasion to sit idle, and so forget the use of pen. There followeth hereafter those things before mentioned, which I hope the Readers will judge with advisement, and construe to the best intent and meaning. For this matter not only shows by good authority the royal Coronation of King Arthur, but in like manner declares with what pride and pomp the Romans sent hither (at the very instant of this great triumph) for tribute and homage: at which proud and presumptuous demand, King Arthur (and all his other Princes about him) began to be greatly moved, and presently without further delay, gave so sharp and sudden an answer to the Ambassadors of Rome, that they were so vexed and abashed therewith, that they neither knew well how to take it, nor made any further reply: as follows by matter presently here, if you please thoroughly to read it. Consider withal, that after this Embassage, King Arthur in plain battle slew Lucius, and had gone to Rome to have been crowned Emperor there, if Mordred had not made a revolt in Arthur's own kingdom.   

The Coronation, and solemnity thereof: The Embassage, and proud message of the Romans: And the whole resolution of King Arthur therein, is first set forth here in English.  
THE appointed time of the solemnity approaching, and all being ready assembled in the City of Carleon, the Archbishops, London and York: and in the City of Carleon the Archbishop Dubright were conveyed to the Palace, with royal solemnity to crown King Arthur. Dubright therefore (because the Court then lay within his Diocese, furnished himself accordingly to perform and solemnize this charge in his own person. The King being crowned, was royally brought to the Cathedral Church of that Metropolitical See. On either hand of him, both the right and the left, did two archbishops support him. And four Kings, to wit, Angusell King of Albania, Caduall King of Venedocia, Cador King of Cornwall, & Sater King of Demetia, went before him, carrying iiii. golden Swords. The companies also and concourse of sundry sorts of officers, played afore him most melodious & heavenly harmony. On the other part, the Queen was brought to the Church of professed Nuns, being conducted and accompanied with Archbishops and Bishops, with her Arms and titles royally garnished. And the Queens, being wives unto the four Kings aforesaid, carried before her (as the order and custom was) four white Doves or Pigeons.  
For behold, twelve discreet personages of reverend countenance came to the King in stately manner, carrying in their right hands in token and sign of embassage, Olive boughs. And after they had saluted him, they delivered unto him on the behalf of Lucius Tiberius, Letters containing this effect.   

¶ The Epistle of Lucius the Roman Lieutenant, to Arthur King of Britain.  
LVcius governor of the Commonwealth, to Arthur King of Britain, as he hath deserved. I have exceedingly wondered to think of thy malapert and tyrannical dealing. I do marvel (I say) and in considering the matter, I am angry and take in ill part, the injury that thou hast offered to Rome: and that thou, no better advising thyself, refusest to acknowledge her. Neither hast thou any care speedily to redress thine oversight, thus by unjust dealings to offend the Senate: unto whom thou art not ignorant, that the whole world oweth homage and service. For, the Tribute done for Britain which the Senate commanded thee to pay; for that julius Caesar, and other worthy Romans long and many years enjoyed the same, thou to the contempt of such an honourable Estate, hast presumed to detain and keep back. Thou hast also taken from them Gallia: thou hast won from them, the Provinces of Savoy and Daulphinie: 
Allobroges  thou hast gotten the possession of all the islands of the Ocean: the Kings whereof (so long as the Roman authority was there obeyed) paid Tribute to our Ancestors. Sith therefore the Senate hath decreed to redemaund amends and restitution at thy hands for these thy so great wrongs, I enjoin and command thee to come to Rome in the midst of August the next year; thexe to answer unto thy Lords, and to abide such sentence and order, as they by justice shall lay upon thee. Which thing if thou refuse to do, I will invade thy Countries, and whatsoever thy wilful rashness hath disloyally taken away from their Commonwealth, that will I by dint of sword, assay to recover and to them restore.   

¶ Cador the Duke of Cornwall his Oration to the King.  
I Have hitherto been in fear, lest the Britain's through much ease and long peace, should grow to flouth and cowardice▪ and lose that honourable reputation of Chivalry and martial prowess, wherein they are generally accounted to surmount all other Nations. For where the use of Arms is not esteemed, but in steed thereof, dying, Carding, dallying with women and other vain delights frequented, it cannot choose, but there cowardice and sluggardie must needs dim and deface all virtue, honour, valiance, and fame. There be now almost five years passed, since we having lacked Martial exercise, have effeminately been nuzzled in these foresaid delights. God therefore not willing to see us any longer marred and stained with sluggardie, hath stirred up the Romans, that they should be the means to reduce our ancient valour unto the former state and dignity. While he used these and such like words, confirmed by those that were there at that time in presence, they came at length to their Benches or Seats, where after that every person was set and placed: Arthur used this speech unto them.   

❧ The Oration of Arthur to his Lords and people.  
MY fellows (saith he) and companions both of adversity and prosperity: whose fidelities I have heretofore both in your sound counsels, and in exploiting militare services had good trial and experience of: listen now and afford unto me your advise, and wisely foresee, what you think convenient for us, touching such demands and commandments, to be done. For, when a thing is wisely aforehand deliberated and carefully foreseen, when it cometh to the pinch, it is more easily avoided and tolerated. We shall therefore the easier be able to abide the imperious demand of Lucius, if we lay our heads together and foresee, how and which way, we may best defeat and infringe the same. And (surely) for my part, I do not think that we have any cause greatly to fear him, sith upon an unreasonable cause he seeketh to have a tribute paid out of Britain. For, he allegeth, that the same is due and payable to him, because it was paid to julius Caesar and others his Successors, which being invited and called hither through the discord and jars of the ancient Britain's, arrived here in Britain with numbers of armed Soldiers: and with force and violence, brought under their subjection, this our Country, miserably tossed with civil garboils and domestical discord. And because they in this sort, got the possession of it, they have since taken and unjustly received a Tribute out of it. For nothing that is gotten by force and violence, is justly possessed by him that offered the violence. The cause therefore which he pretendeth is unreasonable, whereby he d 〈…〉eth us by law and right to be tributary unto them. Sith therefore he thus presumeth to demand of us that which is unjust: let us by the same reason, demand of him, tribute at Rome: & he that is the stronger, let him carry away that which he desireth and claimeth. For, if his reason, why he demandeth tribute now, as due, to be paid by us, because Caesar and other Roman Princes sometimes conquered Britain be good: by the like reason, I do think that Rome ought to pay tribute to me, because my Predecessors heretofore wan and subdued it. For Belinus that most noble King of Britain's, with the help and aid of his brother Brennus' Duke of Savoy, 
Allobroges  took by force that City, and long while possessed it, hanging up in the midst of their chief Market place and high street, twenty of the chiefest Nobles among them. Constantine also the son of Helena, and Maximianus likewise, being both of them, my near Cousins, and either of them successively, crowned King of Britain, were enthronized in the imperial Seat of the Roman Empire. What think ye now? judge you that the Romans have any reason or right to demand Tribute at our hands? As touching France or other collateral islands of the Ocean, it needeth no answer, sith they refused to defend them, when we forcibly took them out of their cloutches & jurisdiction.   

The answer of howel King of little Britain.  
THough every one of you should never so diligently consider: and debate with himself never so advisedly in his mind: yet do I not think, that he could possibly devise any better counsel than this, which thy most grave wisdom hath now remembered. Thy eloquent and Tully like advise therefore, hath furnished us with that skill, whereby we ought incessantly to commend in you the affect of a constant man, the effect of a wise mind, and the benefit of prudent counsel. For, if ye will take your voyage and expedition to Rome, according to the reason afore alleged, I doubt not, but we should win triumph, sir● we do but defend our liberty, and justly demand of our enemies, that, which they have unjustly begun to demand of us. For whosoever goeth about to defeat or dispossess an other of his right, and to take from him that which is his own; worthily and deservedly may be put from that, which is his own, by him to whom he hath offered and done such wrong and violence. Seeing therefore, the Romans would so gladly take from us, that which is our own, we will without doubt, take from them that, which they have, if we may once come to buckle with them. Behold this is the conflict that all true hearted Britain's so long have wished for: 
Sibylla her prophecies touching the Britain's.  Behold these be the Prophecies of Sibylla now fulfilled, which so plainly and truly foretold, that of the third stock of the Britaines there should one be borne, that should obtain and possess the Roman Empire. Now, for two of these, the Prophecies be already fulfilled: sithence it is manifest (as thou hast already declared) that those two most noble and excellent Princes Belinus and Constantine, overcame, and gave the Arms of the Roman Empire. And now have we you, being the third, unto whom such high exploit and honour is promised. Make haste therefore to receive that which God is ready to bestow on thee. Hasten (I say) to subdue that which he is willing should be subdued. Hasten to advance all us, that are here ready for thine advancement & honour, neither to refuse wounds, nor to lose life and limb. 
An exhortation of howel.  And for thy better achieving hereof, I myself will accompany thee with ten thousand well armed Soldiers.  
ANgusell King of Albania, when howel had made an end of his Oration, began to declare his liking and opinion of the matter, in this sort following. Since the time that I heard my Lord utter his mind, touching this case, I have conceived such inward joy as I am not able here afore you to express. For, in all our victorious Conquests already passed, and in so many Kings and Regions as we have subdued, we may well seem to have done nothing at all; if we suffer the Romans and Germans still to remain, and do not manfully wreck upon them, 
The sentence and resolution of the King of Albania.  those bloody slaughters, which heretofore they inflicted upon our Ancestors and Countrymen. And now sith we have occasion and liberty to try the matter with them by force of arms, I rejoice exceedingly, and have a longing thirst to see that day, wherein we may meet together; yea I thirst, even as if I had been dry and kept three days, thirsty, from a Fountain of water. Oh that I might see that day; how sweet and pleasant should those wounds be, that I should either give or take, when we cope together! yea, death itself shall be sweet and welcome, so that I may suffer the same in revenging our fathers, in defending our liberty, and in advancing our King. Let us therefore give the charge and oncet upon yonder effeminate and meycoclie people, and let us stand to our tackle like men: that after we have vanquished them, we may enjoy their honours and offices with joyful victory. And for my part, I will augment our Army with two thousand Horsemen well appointed and armed, beside Footmen.  
FINIS.   

Here followeth the Latin of the English going before.  
OMnibus in urbe legionum congregatio solemnitate instant Archipraesules Londinensis Eboracensis: necnon in urbe legionum Archiepiscopus Dubricius ad pallatium ducuntur ut regem Arthurum diademate regali coronarent Dubricius ergo quoniam in sua duecesi curia tenebatur: paratus ad celebrandum huius rei curam suscepit. Rege tandem insignito ad templum metropolitanae sedis ornatè conducitur: à dextro & à laevo latere duo Archipontifices ipsum tenebant. Quatuor autem reges viz. Anguselus rex Albaniae, Caduallus Venedociae rex, Cador rex Cornubiae, & Sater rex Demetiae: quatuor aureos gladios ante ipsum ferentes praeibant. conventus quoque multimodocum ordinatorum miris modulationibus praecinebat. Ex alia part reginam suis insignibus laureatam Archipraesules atque pontifices ad templum dicatarum puellarum conducebant. Quatuor quoque praedictorum regum reginae quatuor albas columbas de more praeferebant.  
Ecce enim duodecim viri maturae etatis reverendi vultus: tamos olivae in signum legationis in dextris ferentes moderatis passibus ad regem ingrediuntur: & eo salutato literas ipsi ex part Lucij Tiberij in haec verba obtulerunt.   

Lucij Romani Procuratoris ad Arthurum Britonum regem epistola.  
LVcius reipublicae procurator Arthuro regi Britamniae quid meruit. Admirans vehementer admiror super tuae tyrannidis proternia. Admiror inquam & iniuriam quam Romae intulisti recolligens, indignor quod extra te egressus eam cognoscere diffugias: nec animaduertere festines quid sit iniustis actibus senatum offendisse: cui totum orbem famulatum debere non ignoras. Etenim tributum Britanniae quod tibi senatus reddere precaeperat: quia Caius julius ceterique romanae dignitatis viti illud multis temporibus habuerunt: neglecto tanti ordinis imperio detinere praesumpsisti. Eripuisti quoque illi Galliam: eripuisti Allobrogum provinciam: eripuisti omnes oceani insulas: quarum reges dum romana potestas in illis partibus pervaluit, vectigal maioribus nostris reddiderunt. Quia ergo de tantis iniuriarum tuarum cumulis senatus reparationem petere decrevit mediantem Augustum proximi anni terminum perfigens Romam te venire jubeo: ut dominis tuis satisfaciens sententie quam eorum dictatori justicia acquiescas. Sin aliter ipse partes tuas adibo & quicquid vesania tua reipublicae erripuit eidem mediantibus gladijs restituere conabor.   

Cadoris ducis Cornubiae ad regem.  
HVcusque in timore fueram ne britons longa pace quietos ocium quod ducunt ignavos faceret, famamque militiae qua ceteris gentibus clariores censentur in eis omnino deleret. quip ubi usus armorum videtur abbess, alearum vero & mulierum inflamationes, ceteraque oblectamenta adesse: dubitandum non est quin quod erat virtutis: quod honoris, quod audaciae: quod famae ignavia commaculet. Fere namque transacti sunt quinque anni ex quo (predictis delitijs dediti) exercitio Martis caruimus. Deus igitur ut nos segnitia liberaret: Romanos in hunc affectum induxit ut in pristinum statum nostram probitatem reducerent. Haec & hijs similia illo cum caeteris dicente venerunt tandem ad sedilia ubi collocatis singulis: Arthurus illos in hunc modum affatus.   

Oratio Arthuri ad suos.  
COnsocij (inquit) adversitatis & prosperitatis: quorum probitatis hactenus, & in dandis consilijs, & in militijs agendis expertus sum: adhibete & monete nunc unanimiter sensus vestros, & sapienter providete quae super talibus mandatis nobis esse agenda noveritis. Quicquid enim à sapiente diligenter providetur cum ad actum accedit facilius toleratur. Facilius ergo inquietationem Lucij tolerare poterimus si communi studio premeditati fuerimus quibus mofiis eam debilitare instaremus. Quam non multum timendam nobis esse existimo: cum ex irrationabili causa exigat tributum quod ex Britannia habere desiderat. Dicit enim ipsum sibi dare debere quia julio Caesari ceterisque successoribus suis redditum fuerit: qui dissidio priscorum Britonum invitatem cum armata manu in Britaniam applicuerunt: atque patriam domesticis motibus vacillantem suae potestativi, & violentia submiserunt. Quia vero hoc modo eam adepti fuerunt vectigal ex ea injust ceperunt. Nihil enim quod vi ut violentia acquiritur just ab ipso possidetur qui violentiam metuit.  
Irrationabilem ergo causam pretendit: qua nos iure sibi tributarios esse arbitratur. Quoniam ergo id quod iniustum est à nobis praesumit exigere: consimili ratione petamus ab illo tributum Romae: & qui fortior superuenerit ferat quod habere exoptavit. Nam si quia Caesar caeterique romani reges Britanniam olim subiugaverunt vectigal nunc debere sibi ex illa reddi decernit: Similiter nunc ego censeo quam Roma mihi tributum reddere debet: quia antecessores mei eam antiquitus obtinuerunt. Belinus etenim ille Britonum serenissimus rex usus auxilio fratris sui, Brenni videlicet ducis Allobrogum: suspensis in medio foro viginti nobilioribus Romanis: urbem ceperut, captámque multis temporibus possederunt. Constantinus etiam Helenae filius necnon & Maximianus uterque mihi cognatione propinquus alter post alterum diademate Britanniae insignitus: thronum Romani imperij adeptus est. Censetis ne ergo vectigal romanis petendum? De Gallia autem sine de collateralibus insulis oceani non est respondendum: cum illas diffugerent quando easdem potestati eorum subtrahebamus.   

Hoeli regis minoris Britanniae, responsio.  
LIcet unusquisque vestrum totus in se reversus, omnia, & omnibus animo tractare valuerit non existimo eum praestantius consilium posse invenire quam istud quod modo discretio solertis prudentiae tuae recoluit. Proinde etenim providit nobis tua deliberatio Tulliano liquore lita. unde constantis viri affectum: sapientis animi effectum optimi consilij profectum laudare indesinenter debemus. Nam si juxta praedictam rationem Romam adire volveris non dubito quin triumpho potiamur: dum libertatem nostram tueamur dum just ab innimicis nostris exigamus quod à nobis injust petere incaeperunt. Quicunque enim sua alteri eripere conatur merito quae sua sunt per eum quem impetit amittit. Quia ergo Romani nostra nobis demere affectant: sua illis procul dubio: auferemus si authoritas nobis congrediendi praestabitur. En congressus cunctis Britonibus desiderandus. 
Vaticinia Sibille de Britonibus.  En vaticinia sibyllae quae veris angurijs testantur: ex Britannico genere tertio nasciturum qui Romanum obtinebit imperium. De duobus autem adimpleta sunt oracula: cum manifestrum sit praeclaros ut dixisti principes Belinum atque Constantinum imperij Romani gessisse insignia & imperia. Nunc verò te tertium habemus, cui tantum culmen honoris promittitur. Festina ergo recipere: quod deus non differt largiri. Festina subingare quod ultro vult subingari. 
Exhortatio Hoeli.  Festina nos omnes exaltare qui ut exalteris nec vulnera recipere: nec vitam amittere diffugiamus. Vt autem haec perficias decem millibus armatorum praesentiam tuam conabor..  
ANguselus Albaniae rex: ut Hoelus finem dicendi fecerat: quod super hac re affectabat in huc modum manifestare perrexit. Ex dominum meum ea quae dixit affectare conieci: tanta laetitia animo meo illapsa est: quantam nequeo in vestra presentia exprimere. Nihil enim in transactis debellationibus quas tot & tantis regibus intulimus egisse videmur: 
Sententia regis Albaniae.  si Romani & Germani illesi permaneant: nec in illos clades quas olim nostratibus ingesserunt viriliter vindicemus. Ac nunc quoniam licentia congrediendi permittitur gaudens admodum gaudeo & desiderio diei quo conveniamus aestuans sitio cruorem illorum quemadmodum fontem si triduo prohiberer. O si illam lucem videbo quae dulcia erunt vulnera quae vel recipiam vel inferam: quando dextras conferemus. Ipsa etiam mors dulcis erit: dum eam in vindicando patres nostros: in tuendo libertatem nostram: in exaltando regem nostrum perpessus fuero. Aggrediamur ergo semiviros illos & aggrediendo perstemus ut devictis ipsis eorum honoribus cum laeta potiamur victoria. Exercitum autem nostrum duobus milibus armatorum equitum exceptis peditibus angebo.  
FINIS.   
Would to God we had the like aid of Kings and offer now to daunt the pride of the Romish practices.   

The true Authors of this whole Book.  

johannes Badius Ascenciu.  
Merlinus Ambrose.  
Gualterus Monemotensis.  
Giraldus Cambrensis.  
johannes Bale of Brutus.  
jeffrey of Monmouth.  

Analles sue gentes.  Gildas Cambrius, a Poet of Britain.  
Sibilla.   
Two Brethren that were Martyrs, julius and Aron in Carleon, in whose names two Churches were built there.  
Thelians Episcopus Landaph.  
Saint Augustine could not make the Britain's be obedient to the Archbishop of Canterbury, but yet they only submitted themselves to the Archbishop of Carleon, in Adelbrights time that was King of Kent.   



A Hill most notable near Carleon a mile from the town.  NOw must I touch, a matter fit to know,  
A Fort and strength, that stands beyond this Town:  
On which you shall, behold the noblest show,  
(Look round about, and so look rightly down)  
That ever yet, I saw or man may view:  
Upon that Hill, there shall appear to you,  
Of seven Shires, a part and portion great,  
Where Hill itself, is sure a warlike Seat.   

Ten thousand men, may lodge them there unseen,  
In treble Dykes, that guards the Fortress well:  
And yet amid, the Fort a goodly green,  
Where that a power, and mighty Camp may dwell:  
In spite of world, 
A very high Hill of a marvelous strength which was a strong For●●n Arthur's days.  if soldiers victual have.  
The Hill so stands, if Bird but wing do wave,  
Or man or beast, but once stir up the head  
A Bow above, with shaft shall strike it dead.   

The Hill commands, a marvels way and scope,  
It seems it stood, 
belinus Mangnus made this called Bellingstocke.  far off for towns defence,  
And in the wars, it was Carleons' hope:  
Or else in deed, the Duke of Gloster sense  
(That did destroy, both Town and all therein)  
To serve his turn, 
A wonderful high mountain with the like manner of defence.  this Fortress did begin.  
Not far from this, much like unto the same,  
Tombarlown stands, a Mountain of some fame.   

A Town near this, that built is all a length,  
Called Neawport now, 
The town of Neawport.  there is full fair to view:  
Which Seat doth stand, for profit more than strength▪  
A right strong Bridge, 
On a round hill by the Church there is for Sea and Land the most princely sight that any man living at one instant may with perfect eye behold. The Town hath Merchants in it. A Castle is at the end of this Town, and full by the Bridges and River. Greenefield Castle that was the Duke of Lancaster's.  is there of Timber new:  
A River runs, full near the Castle wall:  
near Church likewise, a Mount behold you shall,  
Where Sea and Land, to sight so plain appears,  
That there men see, a part of five fair shears.   

As upward high, aloft to Mountain top,  
This Market town, is built in healthful sort:  
So downward lo, is many a merchants shop,  
And many sail, to Bristol from that Port.  
Of ancient time, a City hath it been,  
And in those days, the Castle hard to win:  
Which yet shows fair, and is repayrd a part,  
As things decayed, must needs be helped by art.   

A goodly Seat, a Tower, a princely pile,  
Built as a watch, or safety for the Soil,  
By River stands, from Neawport not three mile.  
This house was made, when many a bloody broil,  

Eboyth is the rivers name that runneth here.  In Wales God wots, destroyed that public state:  
Here men with sword, and shield did brawls debate:  
Here safety stood, for many things in deed,  
That sought safeguard, and did some sucker need.   

The name thereof, the nature shows a right,  

For River, wood, pasture air, walk & pleasure, this place passeth.  Greenefield it is, full gay and goodly sure:  
A fine sweet Soil, most pleasant unto sight,  
That for delight, and wholesome air so pure,  
It may be praised, a plot sought out so well,  
As though a King, should say here will I dwell:  
The Pastures green, the woods, and water clear.  
Saith any Prince may build a Palace here.   

And in this place, and many parts about,  

A true judgement of the commodities in Wales if the people there would be laborious.  Is grass and Corn, and fertile ground enough:  
And now a while, to speak of Wales throughout,  
Where if men would, take pains to ply the Plough:  
Dig out of dross, the treasure of the earth,  
And fall to toil, and labour from their birth:  
They should as soon, to store of wealth attain,  
As other Soils, whose people takes great pain.   

But most of Wales, likes better ease and rest,  

Nychill.  (loves meat and mirth, and harmless quiet days)  
Than for to toil, and trouble brain and breast,  
To vex the mind, with worldly weary ways.  
Some stand content, with that which God shall send,  
And on their lands, their stock and store doth spend:  
And rubs out life, clean void of further care,  
Because in world, right well to live they are.   

Yet were they bend, to proule and purchase still,  
And search out wealth, as other Nations do:  
They have a Soil, a Country rich at will,  
Which can them make, full quickly wealthy too.  
They have begun, of late to lime their land.  
And ploughs the ground, 
The people of wales in many places thrives by labour daily, and gets great gain through tillage.  where sturdy Okes did stand:  
Converts the meres, and marish every where,  
Whose barren earth, gins good fruit to bear.   

They tear up Trees, and takes the roots away,  
Makes stony fields, smooth fertile fallow ground:  
Brings Pastures bare, to bear good grass for Hay,  
By which at length, in wealth they will abound.  
Wales is this day (behold throughout the shears,  
In better state, than 'twas these hundred years:  
More rich, more fine, and further more to tell,  
Few men have known, the Country half so well.   

Whereas at first, 
I have known many places so barren, that they have sought for come far of, who now are able to live without help of any other Country.  they sought for Corn far off,  
(To help the wants, of Wales when grain was dear)  
Now on the board, they have both Cheese and loaf,  
To show the world, in house is greater cheer.  
The open Plain, that hath his rubbish lost,  
Saith plenty is, through Wales in every coast:  
The well wrought ground, that thousands may behold,  
Where thorns did grow, saith now there springs up gold.   

I mean where weeds, and thistles long hath grown,  
(Wild dross and docks, and stinking nettles vile)  
There Barley sweet, and goodly Wheat is sown,  
Which makes men rich, that lived in lack long while.  
No gift nor gain, more great and good to man,  
Then that which toil, and honest labour wan:  
What sweat of brows, brings in is sugared sweet,  
Makes glad the mind, and comforts heart and spirit.    

❧ Aborgaynies Town is walled round about, and hath fair Suburbs also.  

Return I must, to my discourse before,  
Of Borrow towns, and Castles as they are:  

It stands over two little Rivers, called Ceybbie and Ceyvennie, of which Ceyvenie, Aborgevenie took the name.  Aborgaynie, behind I kept in store,  
Whose Seat and Soil, with best may well compare.  
The Town somewhat, on steep and mounting hill,  
With Pastor grounds, and Meadows great at will▪  
On every side, huge Mountains hard and high,  
And some thick woods, to please the gazer's eye.   

The River Oske, along the vale doth pass,  

The Bridge of stone a eleven fair arches, and a great bridge of stone to come drily to that bridge.  Right underneath, an ancient Bridge of stone:  
A goodly work, when first it reared was,  
(And yet the Shire, can show no such a one)  
Makes men to know, old Buildings were not base,  
And new things blush, that steps not so in place,  
With surety good, and show to step on stage,  
To make new world, to honour former age.   

For former time, built Towns and Castles trim,  

Of the bounty of time past, and the hardness of our age.  Made Bridges brave, and strong for time to come:  
And our young days, that doth in glory swim,  
Holds hard in hand, that finger fast may thome▪  
Look what time past, made gallant fresh and fair,  
Time present spoils, or will not well repair:  

A fair and noble Castle belonging to the ancient house and race of the honourable, the Lord of Aborgaynie  As in this Town, a stately Castle shoes,  
Which lo to ruin, and wretched wrack it goes.   

Most goodly Towers, are bare and naked laft,  
That covered were, with timber and good lead:  
These Towers y 〈…〉 and, as straight as doth a shaft,  
The walls whereo●, might serve to some good stead.  
For sound and thick, and wondrous high withal,  
They are in deed, and likely not to fall:  
Would God therefore, the owner of the same,  
Did stay them up, for to increase his fame.   

Who doth delight, to see a goodly Plain,  
Fair Rivers run, 
The bounty of the Castle and Country.  great woods and mountains high:  
Let him a while, in any Tower remain,  
And he shall see, that may content the eye.  
Great ruth to let, so trim a Seat go down,  
The Country's strength, and beauty of the Town:  
A Lordly place, a princely plot and view,  
That laughs to scorn, our patched buildings new.   

The shell of this, 
A goodly and stately piece of work as like to fall as be repaired again.  I mean the walls without,  
The worthy work, that is so finely wrought:  
The Sellers deep, and buildings round about,  
The firm Freestone, that was so dearly bought,  
Makes men lament, the loss of such a thing,  
That was of late, a house for any King.  
Yea who so ways, the worth of Castle yet,  
With heavy mind, in muse and dump shall sit.   

To see so strong, and stately work decay,  
The same disease, hath Oske in Castle wall:  
Which on main Rock, 
Any heart in the world would pity the decay of Castles in Mommouth shire.  was builded every way,  
And now Got wots, is ready down to fall.  
A number more, in Monmouth Shire I find,  
That can not well, abide a blast of wind:  
The loss is theirs, that sees them overthrown,  
The gain were ours, if yet they were our own.   

Though Castle here, 
In this church was a most famous work in manner of a genealogy of Kings, called the root of jesse, which work is defaced and pulled down in pieces.  through tracked of time is worn,  
A Church remains, that worthy is of note:  
Where worthy men, that hath been nobly borne,  
Were laid in Tomb, which else had been forgot.  
And buried clean, in grave past mind of man,  
As thousans are, forgot since world began:  
Whose race was great, and who for want of Tome,  
In dust doth dwell, unknown till day of Dome.   

In Church there lies a noble Knight,  
Enclosed in wall right well:  

On the right hand in a fair Chapel.  Crosselegged as it seems to sight,  
(Or as record doth tell)  
He was of high and princely blood,  

Both the window and in other parts about him shows that he was a stranger.  His Arms doth show the same:  
For thereby may be understood,  
He was a man of fame.  
A shield of black he bears on breast,  
A white Crow plain thereon:  
A ragged sleeve in top and crest,  

Blue is.  All wrought in goodly stone.  

The label whereon are nine Flowerdeluces.  And under feet, a Greyhound lies,  
Three golden Lions gay,  
Nine Flowerdeluces there likewise,  
His Arms doth full display.   


On the left hand a Lord of Aborgany.  A Lord that once enjoy that Seat,  
Lies there in sumptuous sort:  
They say as lo his race was great,  
So ancient men report.  
His force was much: for he by strength  
With Bull did struggle so,  
He broke clean off his horns at length,  
And therewith let him go.  
This Lord a Bull hath under feet,  
And as it may be thought,  
A Dragon under head doth lie,  
In stone full finely wrought.  
The work and Tomb so ancient is,  
(And of the oldest guise)  
My first bare view, full well may miss,  
To show how well he lies.   

A Tomb in deed, 
Sir William Thomas Knight (alias) Harbert.  of charge and show,  
Amid the Chapel stands:  
Where William Thomas Knight ye know,  
Lies long with stretched hands.  
A Harbert was he called of right,  
Who from great kindred came,  
And married to a worthy wight, 
Sir Davie Gam Knight father to this Knight's wife.   
Daughter to Davie Gam,  
(A Knight likewise, of right and name)  
This Harbert and his fear,  
Lies there like one that purchased fame, 
This Knight was slain at Edgingcourt field.   
As plainly doth appear.  
His Tomb is rich, and rare to view,  
Well wrought of great device:  
Though it be old, 
His Tomb is of hard and good Alabaster.  Tombs made but new,  
Are of no greater price.  
His Arms three ramping Lions white,  
Behind his head in shield:  
A crowned Lion black is hers,  
Set out in most rich field:  
Behind her head is likewise there, 
Sir William Thomas was father to the next that follows, called Sir Richard Harbert of Colbroke Knight.   
Lo what our elders did,  
To make those famous every where,  
Whose virtues are not hid.   

In Tomb as trim as that before,  
Sir Richard Harbert lies:  
He was at Banbrie field of yore,  
And through the battle twice:  
He passed with Pole-axe in his hands,  
A manly act in deed,  
To press among so many bands, 
In the Chronicle this is rehearsed.   
As you of him may reed.  
Th●● valiant Knight, at Colbroke dwelled,  

On the left hand of the Chapel they lie.  near Aborgaynie town:  
Who when his fatal destiny felt,  
And Fortune flung him down,  
Among his enemies lost his head,  
A rueful tale to tell:  
Yet buried was as I have said,  
In sumptuous Tomb full well.  

She was daughter to Thomas ap Griffith father to Sir Rice ap Thomas Knight.  His wife Dame Margaret by his side,  
Lies there likewise for troth:  
Their Arms as yet may be tried,  
(In honour of them both)  
Stands at their heads, three Lions white  
He gives as well he might:  
Three Ravens black, in shield she gives,  
As Daughter to a Knight.  
A sheaf of Arrows under head,  
He hath as due to him:  
Thus there these worthy couple lie,  
In Tomb full fine and trim.   


On the right hand of the Chapel.  Now in another passing Tomb,  
Of beauty and of charge,  
There lies a Squire (that Harbert hight)  
With cost set out at large.  
Two Daughters and six Sons also,  
Are there set nobly forth:  
With other works that makes the show,  
And Monument more worth.  
Himself, his wife, and children to,  
Lies shrouded in that Seat:  
Now somewhat for that Squire I do,  
Because his race was great.  

The old Earl of Penbroke one of the privy Council.  He was the father of that Earl,  
That died Lord Steward late,  
A man of might, of spréet most rare,  
And borne to happy fate.  
His father laid so richly here,  
So long ago withal,  
Shows to the lookers on full clear,  
(When this to mind they call)  
This Squire was of an ancient race,  
And borne of noble blood:  
Sith that he died in such a case,  
And left such worldly good,  
To make a Tomb so rich and brave:  
Nay further now to say,  
The three white Lions that he gave  
In Arms, doth race bewray:  
And makes them blush and hold down brow,  
That babble out of square.  
Rest there and to my matter now:  
Upon this Tomb there are  
Three Lions and three white Boars heads:  
The first three are his own.  
The white Boar's heads his wife she gave,  
As well in Wales is known.  
A Lion at his feet doth lie,  
At head a Dragon green:  
More things who lists to search with eye,  
On Tomb may well be seen.   

Amid the Church, Lord Hastings lay,  
Lord Aborgaynie than:  
And since his death removed away, 
In the window now he lies.   
By fine device of man:  
And laid within a window right,  
Full flat on stony wall:  
Where now he doth in open sight,  
Remain to people all.  
The window is well made and wrought,  
A costly work to see:  
In which his noble Arms are thought,  
Of purpose there to be.  
A ragged sleeve and six red Birds,  
Is portrayed in the Glass:  
His wife hath there her left arm bare,  
It seems her sleeve it was  
That hangs about his neck full fine,  
Right o'er a Purple weed:  
A rob of that same colour too,  
The Lady wears in deed.  
Under his legs a Lion red,  
His Arms are rare and rich:  
A Harrold that could show them well,  
Can blaze not many fitch.  
Sire Lions white, the ground fair blue,  
Three Flowerdeluces gold:  
The ground of them is red of hue,  
And goodly to behold.  
But note a greater matter now,  
Upon his Tomb in stone  
Were foretéene Lords that knees did bow,  

Some say this great Lord was called Bruce and not Hastings, but most do hold opinion he was called Hastings.  Unto this Lord alone.  
Of this rare work a porch is made,  
The Barons there remain  
In good old stone, and ancient trade,  
To show all ages plain.  
What homage was to Hastings due,  
What honour he did win:  
What Arms he gave, and so to blaze  
What Lord had Hastings been.   

Right over against this window, lo  

A Lady of Aborgaynie.  In stone a Lady lies:  
And in her hands a heart I trow,  
She holds before your eyes:  
And on her breast, a great fair shield,  
In which she bears no more  
But three great Flowerdeluces large:  
And even lo, right o'er  
Her head another Lady lies  
With Squirrel on her hand, 
A Lady of some noble house whose name I know not.   
And at her feet, in stone likewise,  
A couching Hound doth stand:  
They say her Squirrel leapt away,  
And toward it she run:  
And as from fall she sought to stay  
The little pretty Bun,  
Right down from top of wall she fell,  
And took her death thereby.  
Thus what I heard, I do you tell,  
And what is seen with eye.   

A friend of mine who lately died,  
That Doctor Lewis hight: 
Doctor Lewis lately judge in the Amoraltie   
Within that Church his Tomb I spied,  
Well wrought and fair to sight.  
O Lord (quoth I) we all must die,  
No law, nor learning's lore:  
No judgement deep, nor knowledge high,  
No riches less or more,  
No office, place, nor calling great,  
No worldly pomp at all,  
Can keep us from the mortal threat  
Of death, when God doth call.  
Sith none of these good gifts on earth,  
Have power to make us live:  
And no good fortune from our birth,  
No hour of breath can give.  
Think not on life and pleasure here,  
They pass like beams of Sun:  
For nought from hence we carry clear,  
When man his race hath run,    

❧ An Introduction for Breaknoke Shire.  

IS body tired with travail, God forbidden,  
That weary bones, so soon should seek for rest:  
Shall senses sleep, when head in house is his,  
As though some charm, were crept in quiet breast.  
And so bewitch, the wits with too much ease,  
That dulls good spirit, and blunts quick sharp device:  
Which climbs the Clouds, and wades through deepest Seas,  
And goes before, and breaks the frozen Ice,  
To clear the coast, and make the passage free  
For trau'lers all, that will great secrets see.   

When quick conceit, by sloth is rock asleep,  
And fresh device, goes faint for lack of use:  
Along the limbs, doth lazy humours creep,  
And daily breeds, in body great abuse.  
If metal fine, be not kept clean from rust,  
The brightest blade, will sure some canker take:  
And when clear things, are stained with dross and dust,  
They must be skoured by skill, for profits sake.  
Wit is nought worth, in idle brain to rest,  
Nor gold doth good, that still lies locked in chest.   

The soft Down bed, and Chamber warmed with fire,  
Or thick furred gown, is all that sluggard seeks:  
But men of spirit, whose hearts do still aspire,  
Do labour long, with lean and lentten cheeks,  
To try the world, and taste both sweet and sour:  
Who much doth see, may much both speak and write:  
Who little knows, hath little wit or power  
To win the wise, or dwell in world's delight.  
Fear not to toil, for he that sows in pain,  
Shall reap with joy, for store good Corn again.   

In reckless youth, whiles fancy flew with wind,  
Feet could not stay, the body moved so fast:  
For every part, thereof did answer mind,  
Till aged years, said wanton days were passed.  
If that be true, sound judgement should be fraught  
With graver thoughts, and greater things of weight:  
Sith sober sense, at lightness now hath laughed,  
Thy reason should, set crooked matters straight:  
And newly frame, a form of fine device,  
That virtue may, bring knowledge most in price.   

To treat of time, and make discourse of men,  
And how the world, doth chop and change estate,  
Doth well become, an ancient writer's pen:  
If skill will serve, such secrets to debate.  
If no, hold on the course thou hast begun,  
To talk of Towns, and Castles as they are:  
And look thou do, no toil nor travail shun,  
To set forth things, that be both strange and rare.  
If age do droop, and can abide no toil,  
When thou comest home, yet set out some sweet Soil.   

Though joints wax stiff, and body heavy grows,  
And back bends down, to earth where corpse must lie:  
And legs be lame, and gout creeps in the toes,  
Cold cramp, and cough, makes groaning ghost to cry.  
When fits are past, if any rest be found,  
Ply pen again, for that shall purchase praise:  
Yea though thou canst, not ride so great a ground,  
As all ore Wales, in thine old aged days:  
Forget no place, nor Soil where thou hast been,  
With Breaknocke Shire, than now this book begin.   

Show what thine eyes, are witness of for troth,  
And leave the rest, to them that after lives:  
When man is called, away to grave he goeth,  
Death steals the life, that God and nature gives.  
Thou hast no state, nor patent here on earth,  
But borrowed breath, the body bears about:  
Death daily waits, on life from hour of birth,  
And when he lists, he blows thy candle out.  
Then leave some work, in world before thou pass,  
That friends may say, lo here a writer was.   

My Muse thus said, and so she shrank aside,  
As though some Spréet, a space had spoke to me:  
With that I had, a friend of mine espied,  
That stood far of, behind a Laurel tree.  
For whom I called, and told him in his ear  
My Muse's tale: but therewithal his eyes  
Bedeawed his cheeks, with many a bitter tear,  
For sorrow great, that from his heart did rise.  
Oh friend (quoth he) thy race I see so short,  
Thou canst not live, to make of Wales report.   

For first behold, how age and thy mishap,  
Agreed in one, to tread thee under foot:  
Thou wast long since, flung out of Fortune's lap,  
When youths gay blowmes, forsook both branch and root.  
And left weak age, as bare as barren stock▪  
That neither fruit, nor leaves will grow upon:  
Can feeble bones, abide the sturdy shock  
Of Fortune's force, when youthful strength is gone:  
And if good chance, in youth hath fled from thee,  
Be sure in age, thou canst not happy be.   

'tis hap that must, maintain thy cost and charge,  
By some such mean, as great good turns are got:  
Else walk or ride, abroad the world at large,  
And yet great mind, but makes old age to dote.  
Thy travail past, shows what may after fall,  
Long journeys breeds, disease and sickness oft:  
Thou hast not health, nor wished wealth at call,  
That glads the heart, and makes men look aloft.  
No sorer snib, nor nothing nips so near,  
As feel much want, yet show a merry cheer.   

My new-found friend, no sooner this had said,  
(Which trial knows, both true and words of weight)  
But that my mind, from travail long was stayed,  
Save that I took, in hand a journey straight,  
To Breakenoke Town, whose Seat once thoroughly penned,  
(With some such notes, as season serves therefore)  
There all the rest, of toil should make an end,  
Sith aged limbs, might travail Wales no more.  
Right sorry sure, I can no further go,  
Content perforce, sith hap will have it so.   

Some men begin, to build a goodly Seat,  
And frames a work, of Timber big and large:  
Yet long before, the workmanship be great,  
Another comes, and takes that plot in charge.  
Men may not do, no more than God permits,  
The mind it thinks, great things to bring to pass:  
But common course, so soon o'ercomes the wits,  
In pieces lies, man's state like broken glass.  
We purpose much, but little power we find,  
With good success, to answer mighty mind.   

Well, that discourse, let go as matter past,  
To Breakenoke now, my pen and muse are priest:  
And sith that Soil, and town shallbe the last,  
That here I mean, to touch of all the rest,  
In briefest sort, it shallbe written out:  
Yet with such words, as carries credit still,  
As other works, in world can breed no doubt:  
So this small piece, shall show my great good will,  
That for farewell, to worthy Wales I make,  
That follows here, before my leave I take.   

O Happy princely Soil, my pen is far to base,  
My muse but serves in stead of foil, to give a jewel grace▪  
My bare invention cold, and barren verses vain,  
When they thy glory should unfold, they do thy Country stain.  
Thy worth some worthy may, set out in golden lines,  
And blaze the same, with colours gay, whose glistering beauty shines.  
My boldness was to great, to take the charge in hand,  
With wasted wits the brains to beat, to write on such a Land:  
Whose people may compare, in highest degree of praise,  
With any now alive that are, or were in elders days.  
Thy Towns and Castles fair, so bravely stands in deed,  
They should their honour much apayre, if they my verses need.  
A writers rural rhyme, doth hinder thy good name:  
For verse but entertains the time, with toys that fancies frame▪  
With Tully's sugared tongue, or Virgil's sharp engine,  
Thy rare renown should still be rung, or sung in verse divine.  
A simple Poet's pen, but blots white paper still,  
And blurs the brute & praise of men, for want of cunning quill.  
If Ovid's skill I had, or could like Homer write,  
Or Dant would make my muses glad, to please the world's delight.  
Or Chawser lent me in these days, some of his learned tales,  
As Petrarke did his Lawra praise, so would I speak of Wales.  
But all to late I crave, for knowledge wit and sense:  
For look what gifts that Gods them gave, they took them all from hence,  
And left us nought but books, to stare and poor upon,  
On which perchance blind bayard looks, when skill & sight is gone.  
Our former age did flow, with grace and learned lore,  
Then far behind they come I trow, that strive to run before.  
We must go lagging on, as legs and limbs were lame,  
And though long since the goal was gone, & wit hath won the game.  
We shall have room to play, and time and place withal,  
To look, to read, to write and say, what shall in fancy fall.  
But woe is me the while, that overweenes in want,  
When world may at my boldness smile, to see my skill so scant.  
Yet writ in Country's praise, that I cannot set out,  
And stands discouraged many ways, to travail Wales about.  
Yet take now well in worth, the works I have begun,  
I can no further thing set forth, my days are almost dun:  
As candle clear doth burn, to socket in small time,  
So age to earth must needs return, when youth hath passed his prime.   

Now Breakenoke shire, as falleth to thy lot,  
In place a peer, thou art not sure forgot:  
Nor written of so much as I desire:  
For sickness long, made body for to retire  
Unto the Town where it was borne and bred,  
And where perhaps, on turf must lie my head.  
When labours all, shall reap a geave for rest,  
And silent death, shall quiet troubled breast:  
Then as I now, have somewhat said on thee,  
So shall some friend, have time to write on me.  
Whose restless muse, and weary waking mind,  
To pleasure world, did oft great leisure find:  
And who rejoiced, and took a great delight,  
For knowledge sake, to study read and write.    

❧ The Town and Church of Breakenoke.  

THE Town is built, as in a pit it were,  
By water side, all leapt about with hill  
You may behold a ruinous Castle there,  
Somewhat defaced, the walls yet standeth still.  
Small narrow streets, 
Maistre Gams dwells here.  through all the Town ye have,  
Yet in the same, are sundry houses brave:  

Doctor Awberie hath a house here.  Well built without, yea trim and fair within,  
With sweet prospect, that shall your favour win.   

The River Oske, and Hondie runs thereby,  
Four Bridges good, of stone stands over each stream:  
The greatest Bridge, doth to the College lie,  
A free house once, where many a rotten beam  
Hath been of late, through age and tracked of time:  
Which Bishop now, refourmes with stone and lime.  
Had it not been, with charge repayrd in haste,  
That house and Seat, had surely gone to waste.   

Two Churches doth, belong unto this Town,  
One stands on hill, where once a Priory was:  
Which changed the name, when Abbeys were put down,  
But now the same, for parish Church doth pass.  
Another place, for Morning prayer is,  
Made long ago, that standeth hard by this.  
Built in this Church, a Tomb or two I find,  
That worthy is, in brief to bring to mind.   


The ancient house of Gams.  Three couple lies, one o'er the others head,  
Along in Tomb, and all one race and live:  
And to be plain, two couple lieth dead,  
The third likewise, as destiny shall assyne,  
Shall lie on top, right o'er the other twain:  
Their pictures now, all ready there remain,  
In sign when God appoints the term and date,  
All flesh and blood must yield to mortal fate.   

These are in deed, the ancient race of Gams,  
A house and blood, that long rich Arms doth give:  
And now in Wales, are many of their names,  
That keeps great train, and doth full bravely live.  
The eldest Son, and chiefest of that race,  
Doth bear in Arms, a ramping Lion crowned,  
And three Spear heads, and three red Cocks in place.  
A Dragon's head, all green therein is found:  
And in his mouth, a red and bloody hand,  
All this and more, upon the Tomb doth stand.   

Three fair boy's heads, 
The Arms of the Gams.  and every one of those  
A Serpent hath close leapt about his neck:  
A great white Buck, and as you may suppose,  
Right o'er the same, (which doth it trimly decken)  
A crown there is, that makes a goodly shoe,  
A Lion black, and three Bulls heads I trow:  
Three Flowerdeluce, all fresh and white they were,  
Two Swords, two Crowns, with fair long cross is there.   

Three Bats, whose wings were spreaded all at large,  
And three white bars were in these Arms likewise:  
Let Harrolds now, to whom belongs that charge,  
Describe these things, for me this may suffice.  
Yet further now, I forced am to go,  
Of several men, some other Arms to shoe.  
Within that Church, there lies beneath the Quere,  
These persons two, whose names now shall ye hear.   

In Tomb of stone, 
The Arms of one Waters.  full fair and finely wrought,  
One Waters lies, with wife fast by his side:  
Of some great stock, these couple may be thought,  
As by their Arms, an Tomb may well be tried.  
Full at his feet, a goodly Greyhound lies,  
And at his head there is before your eyes  
Three Libbarts heads, three cups, two Eagles splayed,  
A fair red Cross: and further to be said,   

A Lion black, a Serpent fircely made,  
With tail wound up: these Arms thus endeth so▪  
Cross legged by him, 
His name was Reynold Debreos.  as was the ancient trade,  
Debreos lies, in picture as I trow,  
Of most hard wood: which wood as divers say  
No worm can eat, nor time can wear away:  
A couching Hound, as Harrolds thought full meet,  
In wood likewise, lies underneath his feet.   

Just by the same, Meredith Thomas lies,  
Who had great grace, great wit and worship both,  
And world him thought, both happy blessed and wise,  
A man that loved, good justice faith and troth.  
Right o'er this Tomb, of stone, to his great fame,  
Good store in deed of Latin verses are,  
And every verse, set forth in such good frame,  
That truly doth his life and death declare.  
This man was liked, for many graces good  
That he possessed, besides his birth and blood.    

❧ Somewhat of some Rivers and Waters.  


Glasseberies' Bridge is within two mile of Portthamwel.  OF other things, as far as knowledge goes,  
Now must I write, to furnish forth this book:  
Some Shires do part at Waters, trial shows  
There, who so list upon the same to look.  
Dulace doth run, along unto the Hay.  
So Hartford shire, from Breakenoke parteth there.  

Master Robert Knowles that married one of the heirs of the Vaughhans hath a fair house and a Park at Portthamwell.  Brennick Deelyes, Thlavenny as they say  
At Tawllgath meets, so into Wye they bear:  
From Arthur's Hill, Tytarell runs apace,  
And into Oske and Breakenoke runs his race.   

near Breakenoke Town, there is a Mountain high,  
Which shows so huge, it is full hard to climb:  
The Mountain seems so monstrous to the eye,  
Yet thousands do repair to that sometime.  
And they that stand, right on the top shall see  
A wonder great, as people do report:  
Which common brute, and saying true may be,  
But since in deed, I did not there resort,  
I writ no more, than world will witness well:  
Let them that please, of those strange wonders tell.   

What is set down, I have it surely seen,  
As one that toiled and travailed for the troth:  
I will not say, such things are as I ween,  
And frame a verse, as common voices goeth.  
Nor yet to please the humours of some men,  
I list not stretch, nor rack my terms awry:  
My muse will not so far abuse the pen.  
That writer shall gain any blot thereby:  
So he have thank in using idle quill,  
He seeks no more for pains and great good will.    

¶ Ludloe Town, Church and Castle.  

THE Town doth stand most part upon an Hill,  
Built well and fair, 
The names of streets there. Castle street. Broad street. Old street. And the Mill street. A fair house by the gate of the making of justice Walter.  with streets both large and wide:  
The houses such, where strangers lodge at will.  
As long as there the Council lists abide,  
Both fine and clean the streets are all throughout,  
With Conduits clear, and wholesome water springs:  
And who that lists to walk the Town about,  
Shall find therein some rare and pleasant things:  
But chief there the air so sweet you have,  
As in no place ye can no better crave.   

The Market house, where Corn and Cates are sold,  
Is covered over, and kept in finest sort:  

near this is a fair house of Master Sackfords' which he lid build, and a fair house that Master Secretary Fox did bestow great charges on, & a house that Master Berrie dwells in. M. Townesend hath a fair house at Saint Augustine's once a Friary. The Lord Precedent Sir Harrie Sidneys Daughter, called Ambrosia, is entombed here in most bravest manner and great chargeable workmanship on the right hand of the Altar. On the same is my Lord of Warwick's Arms excellently wrought, and my Lord Precedents Arms and others, are in like sort there richly set out.  From which ye shall, the Castle well behold,  
And to which walk, do many men resort.  
On every side thereof fair houses are,  
That makes a show, to please both mind and eye:  
The Church near that, where monuments full rare  
There is, (wherein doth sundry people lie)  
My pen shall touch, because the notes I find  
Therein, deserve to be well borne in mind.   

Within the Quere, there is a Lady laid  
In Tomb most rich, the top of fair Touchstone:  
There was bestowed in honour of this maid,  
Great cost and charge, the truth may well be known.  
For as the Tomb, is built in sumptuous guise,  
So to the same, a closet fair is wrought,  
Where Lords may sit in stately solemn wise,  
As though it were a fine device of thought,  
To beautify both Tomb and every part  
Of that fair work, that there is made by art.   

Against that Tomb, full on the other side,  
A Knight doth lie, that justice Townesend hight:  
His wife likewise, so soon as that she died,  
In this rich Tomb, was buried by this Knight:  
And truth to tell, Dame Alice was her name,  
An Heir in deed, that brought both wealth and land,  
And as world saith, a worthy virtuous Dame,  
Whose ancient Arms, in colours there doth stand:  
And many more, whose Arms I do not know,  
Unto this Knight, are joined all a roe.   

Amid the Church, a chantry Chapel stands,  
Where Hozier lies, a man that did much good:  
Bestowed great wealth, and gave thereto some lands,  
And helped poor souls that in necessity stood.  
As many men, 
Sir Robert Townes-end Knight lies in a marvelous fair Tomb in the Queer here, and his wife by him, at his feet is a red Rowbuck▪ and a word tout en dieu. On the left hand Hozier lies in the body of the Church. On the right hand Cooks lies. This man was my mother's father. Beawpy was a great rich and virtuous man▪ he made another chantry.  are bend to win good will  
By some good turn, that they may freely show:  
So Hoziers' hands, and head were working still:  
For those he did, in det or danger know.  
He smyld to see, a beggar at his door:  
For all his joy, was to relieve the poor.   

Another man, whose name was Cooks for troth,  
Like Hozier was, in all good gifts of grace:  
This Cooks did give, great lands and livings both,  
For to maintain, a chantry in that place.  
A yearly dole, and monthly alms likewise  
He ordained there, which now the poor do mis:  
His wife and he, within that Chapel lies,  
Where yet full plain, the chantry standing is:  
Some other things, of note there may you see  
Within that Church, not touched now by me.   

Yet Beawpy must, be named good reason why,  
For he bestowed, great charge before he died,  
To help poor men, and now his bones doth lie  
Full near the Font, upon the foremost side.  
Thus in those days, the poor was looked unto,  
The rich was glad, to fling great wealth away:  
So that their alms, the poor some good might do.  
In poor men's box, who doth his treasure lay,  
Shall find again, ten fold for one he leaves:  
Or else my hope, and knowledge me deceives.   

THE Castle now, 
The Castle of Ludloe.  I mind here to set out,  
It stands right well, and pleasant to the view,  
With sweet prospect, yea all the field about.  
An ancient Seat, 
Sir Harry Sidney built many things here worthy praise and memory.  yet many buildings new  
Lord Presdent made, to give it greater fame:  
But if I must, discourse of things as true,  
There are great works, that now doth bear no name,  
Which were of old, and yet may pleasure you  
To see the same: for lo in elders days  
Was much bestowed, that now is much to praise.   

Prince Arthur's Arms, is there well wrought in stone,  

Over a Chimney excellently wrought in the best chamber, is S. andrew's Cross joined to Prince Arthur's Arms in the hall window.  (A worthy work, that few or none may mend)  
This work not such, that it may pass alone:  
For as the time, did always people send  
To world, that might exceed in wit and spirit:  
So sundry sorts of works are in that Seat,  
That for so high a stately place is meet:  
Which shows this day, the workmanship is great.  
Look on my Lords, and speak your fancies throw,  
And you will praise, fair Ludloe Castle now.   

In it besides, (the works are here vnnam'd)  
A Chapel is, most trim and costly sure,  
So bravely wrought, so fair and finely framed,  
That to world's end, the beauty may endure.  
About the same, are Arms in colours sitch,  
As few can show, in any Soil or place:  
A great device, a work most rare and rich:  
Which truly shows, the Arms, the blood and race  
Of sundry Kings, but chief Noble men,  
That here in prose, I will set out with pen.   

All that follows are Arms of Princes and Noblemen.  Sir Walter Lacie was first owner of Ludloe Castle, whose Arms are there, and so follows the rest by order as you may read.  

jeffrey Genyvile, did match with Lacie.  
Roger Mortymer the first Earl of Martchy an Earl of a great house matched with Genyvile.  
leonel Duke of Clarence joined with Ulster in Arms.  
Edmond Earl of Marchy matched with Clarence.  
Richard Earl of Cambridge matched with the Earl of Marchy.  
Richard Duke of York matched with Westmoreland.  
Edward the fourth matched with Woduile of Rivers.  
Henry the seventh matched with Elizabeth right heir of England.  
Henry the eight matched with the Marqueses of Penbroke.   
These are the greatest first to be named that are there set out worthily as they were of dignity and birth.  
Now follows the rest of those that were Lord Presidents, and others whose Arms are in the same Chapel.  

William Smith Bishop of Lincoln was the first Lord Precedent of Wales in Prince Arthur's days.  
jeffrey Blythe Bishop of Coventrie and Litchfield Lord Precedent.  
Rowland Lée Bishop of Coventrie and Litchfield Lord Precedent.  
Ihou Uessie Bishop of Exeter Lord Precedent.  
Richard Sampson Bishop of Coventrie and Litchfield Lord Precedent.  
john Duldley Earl of Warwick (after Duke of Northumberland) Lord Precedent.  
Sir William Harbert (after Earl of Penbroke) Lord Precedent.  
Nicholas Heath Bishop of Worcester Lord Precedent.  
Sir William Harbert once again Lord Precedent.  
Gilbert Browne Bishop of Bathe and Welles Lord Precedent.  
Lord Williams of Tame Lord Precedent.  
Sir Harry Sidney Lord Precedent.  
Sir Andrew Corbret Knight, Uicepresident.   
There are two blanks left without Arms.  

Sir Thomas Dynam Knight, is mentioned there to do some great good act.  
john Scory Bishop of Hartford.  
Nicholas Bullingham, Bishop of Worcester.  
Nicholas Robinson, Bishop of Bangore.  
Richard Davies, Bishop of Saint Davies.  
Thomas Davies, Bishop of Saint Assaph.  
Sir james Crofts Knight, Controller.  
Sir john Throgmorton Knight, justice of Chester and the three Shires of Eastwales.  
Sir Hugh Cholmley Knight.  
Sir Nicholas Arnold Knight.  
Sir George Bromley Knight, and justice of the three shires in Wales.  
William Gerrard, Lord Chancellor of Ireland, and justice of the three Shires in South-Wales.  
Charles Fox Esquire and Secretary.  
Ellice Price Doctor of the Law.  
Edward Leighton Esquire.  
Richard Seborne Esquire.  
Richard Pates Esquire.  
Ralph Barton Esquire.  
George Phetyplace Esquire.  
William Leighton Esquire.  
miles Sands Esquire.   
The Arms of all these afore spoken of are gallantly and cunningly set out in the Chapel. 
The great water called Tean, comes 17. mile from a place called the Whitehall near unto Begyldie in the County of Radnor.   
Now is to be rehearsed, that Sir Harry Sidney being Lord Precedent, built twelve rooms in the said Castle, which goodly buildings doth show a great beauty to the same.  
He made also a goodly Wardrobe underneath the new Parlour, and repaired an old Tower, called Mortymers Tower, to keep the ancient Records in the same: and he repaired a fair room under the Court house, to the same intent and purpose, and made a great wall about the woodyard, 
The Forest of Brenwood is west from the town. The Chase of Mocktrie and O●kley parks stands not far from thence.  & built a most brave conduit within the inner Court: and all the new buildings over the Gate Sir Harry Sidney (in his days and government there) made and set out to the honour of the Queen, and glory of the Castle.  
There are in a goodly or stately place set out my Lord Earl of Warwick's Arms, the Earl of Derby, the Earl of Worcester, the Earl of Penbroke, and Sir Harry Sidneys Arms in like manner: all these stand on the left hand of the Chamber. On the other side are the Arms of North-wales and South-Wales, two red Lions and two golden Lions, Prince Arthur's.  

A device of the Lord Presidents.  At the end of the dining Chamber, there is a pretty device how the Hedgehog broke the chain, and came from Ireland to Ludloe.  
There is in the Hall a great grate of Iron of a huge height: so much is written only of the Castle.   

❧ The Town of Ludloe, and many good gifts granted to the same.  


He gave great possessions, large liberties, and did incorporate them with many goodly freedoms.  KIng Edward fourth, for service truly done,  
When Henry sixth, and he had mortal war:  
No sooner he, by force the victory won,  
But with great things, the Town he did prefer.  
Gave lands thereto, and liberty full large,  
Which royal gifts, his bounty did declare,  
And daily doth, maintain the Towns great charge:  
Whose people now, in as great freedom are,  
As any men, under this rule and Crown,  
That lives and dwells, 
That Town hath been well governed a long while with two Bailiffs, twelve Aldermen, and five and thirty Commoners, a Recorder & a Townclarke assistant to the said Bailiffs by judicial course of law weekly, in as large and ample manner for their trial between party and party, as any City or Borrow of England hath.  in City or in Town.   

Two Bailiffs rules, one year the Town throughout,  
Twelve Aldermen, they have there in likewise:  
Who doth bear sway, as turn doth come about,  
Who chosen are, by oath and ancient guise.  
Good laws they have, and open place to plead,  
In ample sort, for right and justice sake:  
A Preacher too, that daily there doth read,  
A Schoolmaster, that doth good scholars make.  
And for the Queer, are boys brought up to sing,  
And so serve God, and do none other thing.   

Three times a day, in Church good service is,  
At six a clock, at nine, and then at three:  
In which due hours, a stranger shall not miss,  
But sundry sorts, of people there to see.  
And thirty three, poor persons they maintain,  
Who weekly have, both money, alms and aid:  
Their lodging free, and further to be plain,  
Still once a week, 
The poor have sweet lodgings each one a part to himself. An Hospital called S. jones. A guilded that King Edward (by Letters Patents) gave to the Bayliefs and Burgesses of the town. The Aldermen are justices of the Peace for the time being  the poor are truly paid:  
Which shows great grace, and goodness in that Seat,  
Where rich doth see, the poor shall want no meat.   

An Hospital, there hath been long of old,  
And many things, pertaining to the same:  
A goodly guilded, the Township did uphold,  
By Edward's gift, a King of worthy fame.  
This Town doth choose, two Burgesses always  
For Parliament, the custom still is so:  
Two Fairs a year, they have on several days,  
Three Markets kept, but monday chief I trow:  
And two great Parks, there are full near the Town,  
But those of right, pertain unto the Crown.   

These things rehearsed, makes Ludloe honoured mitch,  
And world to think, it is an ancient Seat:  
Where many men, both worthy wise and rich  
Were borne and bred, and came to credit great.  
Our ancient Kings, and Princes there did rest,  
Where now full oft, the Presdent dwells a space:  
It stands for Wales, most apt, most fit and best,  
And nearest to, at hand of any place:  
Wherefore I thought, it good before I end,  
Within this book, this matter should be penned.   

The rest of Towns, that in Shropshiere you have,  
I need not touch, they are so thoroughly known:  
And further more, I know they cannot crave  
To be of Wales, how ever brute be blown.  
So wishing well, as duty doth me bind,  
To one and all, as far as power may go,  
I knit up here, as one that doth not mind  
Of native Soil, no further now to show.  
So cease my muse, let pen and paper pause,  
Till thou art called, to write of other cause.    

❧ An Introduction to remember Shropshiere.  

HOw hath thy muse so long been lulled a sleep?  
What deadly drink, hath sense in slumber brought?  
Doth poison cold, through blood and bosom creep?  

A device of the Author called Reasons threatening.  Or is of spite, some charm by witchcraft wrought,  
That vital spréetes, hath lost their feeling quite?  
Or is the hand, so weak it cannot write?  
Come idle man, and show some honest cause,  
Why writers pen, makes now so great a pause.   

Can Wales be named, and Shropshiere be forgot,  
The marshes must, make muster with the rest:  
Shall salop say, their countryman doth dote,  
To treat of things, and write what thinks him best.  
No sure such fault, were double error plain,  
If in thy pen, be any Poets vain,  
Or gifts of grace, from Skies did drop on thee,  
Than Shrewsebrie Town, thereof first cause must be.   

Both borne and bred, 
The Author borne in Shrewseburie.  in that same Seat thou wast,  
(Of race right good, or else Records do lie)  
From whence to school, where ever Churchyard past.  
To native Soil, he ought to have an eye,  
Speak well of all, and write what world may prove,  
Let nothing go, 
Shrewseburie the marshes of Wales.  beyond thy Country's love:  
Wales once it was, and yet to mend thy tale,  
Make Wales the Park, and plain Shropshiere the pale.   

If pale be not, a special piece of Park,  
Sat silent now, and neither write nor speak:  
But leave out pale, and thou mayst miss the mark,  
Thy muse would hit, or else thy shaft may break  
Against a stone, 
Reason's threatening is done.  thou thinkest to glance upon.  
Now weigh these words, my chorlish check is gone,  
More gentle speech, hereafter may I spend,  
When that in verse, I see thy Country penned.   

When Reasons threat, had rapt me on the pate,  
(With privy blows, 
The privy blows that Reason gives.  that never draws no blood)  
To study straight, with pen and ink I gate,  
And sadly there, bethought me what was good.  
But ere the lock, and door was bolted fast,  
Ten thousand toys, in head through fancy past,  
And twenty more, conceits came rolling on,  
That were too long, to talk and treat upon.   

Wherefore in brief, I settled pen to work,  

For fear of shame slothful men are well occupied.  For fear least world, found fault with slothful muse:  
And calling up, the spréetes that close did lurk  
In cloak of ease, that would good wits abuse.  
I held on way, to ancient Shrewsebrie Town,  
And so from horse, at lodging lighting down,  
I walked the streets, and marked what came to view,  
Found old things dead, as world were made a new.   


New buildings makes old device blush.  For buildings gay, and gallant finely wrought,  
Had old device, through time supplanted clean:  
Some houses bare, that seemed to be worth nought,  
Were fat within, that outward looked lean:  
Wit had won wealth, to stuff each empty place,  
The cunning head, and labouring hand had grace  
To gain and keep, and lay up still in store,  
As man might say, the heart could wish no more.   

A number sure, were rich become of late,  

Labour reaps reward.  By worldly means, by hap or wisdoms art:  
He had no praise, that did apayre his state,  
And he most lawde, that played the wisest part.  
To come by goods, well won with honest trade,  
And warily look, there were no havoc made:  
Such thrifty men, do dwell in Shrewsebrie now,  
That all the Town, is full of Merchants throw.   


Many well borne and rich in Shrewseburie. divers Alms houses in Shrewseburie, and hath been there maintained in old time.  And sundry borne, of right good race and blood,  
Who freely lives, from bondage every way:  
Whose rent and lands, whose wealth and worldly good,  
(When other works, gives them free leave to play)  
Most part are rich, or else right well to live,  
And to the poor, the godly people give:  
To preaching still, repairs both young and old,  
Makes more thereof, then of rich pearl or gold.   

Now come to points, 
Shrewseburie and Wales are like in courtesy.  and rules of civil men,  
Good manner called, that shows good nature still:  
And so with Wales, ye may compare them then,  
The meanest sort, I mean of slenderest skill.  
For as some whelps, that are of gentle kind,  
Exceeds cur dogs, 
Fair words and reverence is a common thing there.  that bears a doggish mind:  
So these meek folk, that meets you in the street,  
Will curchie make, or show an humble spirit.   

This argues sure, 
Good nature and good manners shows good minds.  they have in Wales been bred,  
Or well brought up, and taught where now they dwell:  
If haughty heart, be spied by lofty head,  
And courteous folks, by looks are known full well:  
methinks the mild, wins all goodwill away,  
The sturdy stands, 
Stout behaviour is rather abhorred then embraced.  like Stag or Buck at bay:  
The tame white Dove, and Faulkon for delights,  
Are better far, then fifteen hundred Kites.   

My theme is Wales, 
Many of wales wealthy men in Shrewseburie.  and to that theme I go,  
Perhaps some seed, of that same Soil is here:  
Sown in such sort, that daily it doth grow  
In fairest form, to furnish forth this shire.  
Admit the same, the sequel grants it well,  
Pass that discourse, and give me leave to tell  
How Shrewsebrie stands, and of the Castle's seat,  
The River large, and stony bridge so great.   

The Town three parts, 
A deep device the foundation of Shrewseburie. The Castle built in such a brave plot, that it could have espied a bird flying in every street.  stands in a valley lo,  
Three gates there are, through which you needs must pass,  
As to the height, of Town the people go:  
So Castle seems, as 'twere a looking glass,  
To look through all, and hold them all in awe,  
Treangle wise, the gates and Town doth draw:  
But Castle hill, spies out each street so plain,  
As though an eye, on them did still remain.   

In midst of Town, four parish Churches are,  

A matter to be marked.  Full near and close, together note that right:  
The view far of, is wondrous strange and rare,  
For they do seem, a true love knot to sight:  

A Knight lies crosselegged in S. Mary's, his name is Leyborne.  They stand on hill, as Nature wrought a Seat,  
To place them four, in stately beauty great:  
As men devout, to build these works took care,  
So in these days, these Temples famous are.   


Of the same of Churches.  First for the cause, whereon they so were made,  
Then for their form, and fashion framed fine:  
Next for the cost, the stones and ancient trade,  
And chief of all, for man's intent divine.  
Their placing thus, the plots whereon they stand,  
The workmanship, with cunning Mason's hand:  
Their height and breadth, their length and thickness both,  
Argues in deed, a wondrous work of troth.   


Of the River of Severn.  Not far from them, doth goodly Severn run,  
An arm of Sea, a water large and deep:  
Whose headstrong stream, the Fisher can not shun,  
Except by bank, both boat and he doth creep.  
This River runs, to many a noble Town,  
As Wyster one, and Bristol of renown:  
With more besides, which here I need not name,  
The Card can show, both them and all their fame.   


A notable River, called Severn, running under two fair bridges of stone.  About the walls, trim under goodly banks  
Doth Severn pass, and comes by Cotten hill:  
Much praise they had, and purchased many thanks,  
That at Stonebridge, made place for many a Mill.  
About the Town, this water may be brought,  
If that a way, were near the Castle wrought:  
So Castle should, stand like a peerless mount,  
And Shrewsebrie Town, be had in great account.   

Full from Welshbridge, 
There is a bridge called Welshbridge, which shows Shrewseburie to be of Wales  along by meadows green,  
The River runs, most fair and fine to view:  
Such fruitful ground, as this is seldom seen  
In many parts, if that I hear be true.  
Yet each man knows, that grass is in his pride,  
And air is fresh, by every rivers side:  
But sure this plot, doth far surpass the rest,  
That by good lot, is not with graces blest.   

Who hath desire, 
The Castle though old and ruinate stands most brave and gallantly.  to view both hill and vale,  
Walk up old wall, of Castle rude and bare,  
And he shall see, such pleasure set to sale,  
In kindly sort, as though some merchants ware  
Were set in shop, to please the passer by:  
Or else by show, 
Master Prince his house stands so trim and finely, that it graceth all the Soil it is in.  beguiled the gazer's eye:  
For look but down, along the pleasant coast,  
And he shall think, his labour is not lost.   

One way appears, Stonebridge and Subbarbs there,  
Which called is, the Abbey Forehead yet:  
A long great street, well builded large and fair,  
In as good air, as may be wished with wit:  
Where Abbey stands, and is such ring of Bells,  
As is not found, from London unto Welles:  
The Steeple yet, a gracious pardon finds,  
To bide all blasts, all wether's storms and winds.   

Another way, 
Here is the way to Meluerley, to Wattels Borrow where Ma. Leighton dwells, to Cawx Castle Lord Staffords, and to Master William's house.  full o'er Welshbridge there is,  
An ancient street, called Franckwell many a day:  
To Ozestri, the people pass through this,  
And unto Wales, it is the ready way.  
In Subbarbs to, is Castle Forehead both,  
A street well paved, two several ways that goeth:  
All this without, and all the Town within,  
When Castle stood, to view hath subject been.   

But now doth hold, their freedom of the Prince,  

Aldermen in Scarlet orderly in Shrewseburie, and two Bailiffs as richly set out many Mayor of some great Cities.  And as is found, in Records true unfaynd,  
This trim shire town, was built a great while since:  
Whose privilege, by loyalty was gained.  
Two Bailiffs there, doth rule as course doth fall,  
In state like Mayor, and orders good withal:  
Each officer due, that fits for stately place,  
Each year they have, to yield the room more grace.   

On solemn days, in Scarlet gowns they go,  
Good house they keep, as cause doth serve therefore:  

Great & costly banqueting in Christmas and at all Sessions & Sizes.  But Christmas feasts, compares with all I know  
Save London sure, whose state is far much more.  
That City's charge, makes strangers blush to see,  
So princely still, it is in each degree:  
But though it bear, a Torch beyond the best,  
This Lantern light, may shine among the rest.   


A matter of traffic to be noted and considered of.  This Town with more, fit members for the head,  
Makes London rich, yet reaps great gain from thence:  
It gives good gold, for Clothes and marks of lead,  
And for Welsh ware, exchaungeth English pence.  
A fountain head, that many Conduits serve,  

London compared to the flowing Sea.  Keeps moist dry Springs, and doth itself preserve:  
The flowing Sea, to which all Rivers run,  
May spare some shewres, to quench the heat of Sun.   

So London must, like mother to the Realm,  

The great must maintain the small.  To all her babes, give milk, give suck and pap:  
Small Brooks swells up, by force of mighty stream,  
As little things, from greatest gains good hap.  
If Shrewsebrie thrive, and last in this good luck,  
It is not like, to lack of worldly muck:  
The trade is great, the Town and Seaee stands well,  
Great health they have, in such sweet Soils that dwell.   

Thus far I go, to prove this Wales in deed,  
Or else at least, the marches of the same:  
But further speak, of Shire it is no need,  
Save Ludloe now, a Town of noble fame:  
A goodly Seat, 
Ludloe is set out after.  where oft the Council lies,  
Where Monuments, are found in ancient guise:  
Where Kings and Queens, in pomp did long abide,  
And where God pleased, that good Prince Arthur died.   

This Town doth front, on Wales as right as line,  
So sundry Towns, in Shropshiere do for troth:  
As Ozestry, 
Ozestrie and Bishop's Castle doth front in Wales.  a pretty Town full fine,  
Which may be loved, be liked and praised both.  
It stands so trim, and is maintained so clean,  
And péepled is, with folk that well do mean:  
That it deserves, to be enrolled and shrynd  
In each good breast, and every manly mind.   

The Market there, so far exceeds withal,  
As no one Town, comes near it in some sort:  
For look what may, be wished or had at call,  
It is there found, as market men report.  
For Poultry, 
Of a notable market a meruclous matter.  Fowl, of every kind somewhat,  
No place can show, so much more cheap than that:  
All kind of Cates, that Country can afford,  
For money there, is bought with one bare word.   

They hark not long, 
Poor folks makes few words in bargaining.  about the thing they sell,  
For price is known, of each thing that is brought:  
Poor folk God wots, in Town no longer dwell,  
Then money had, perhaps a thing of nought:  
So trudge they home, both bareleg and unshod,  
With song in Welsh, or else in praising God:  
O sweet content, O merry mind and mood,  
With sweat of brows, thou lov'st to get thy food.   


The blessedness of plain people.  O plain good folk, that have no crafty brains,  
O Conscience clear, thou know'st no cunning knacks:  
O harmless hearts, where fear of God remains,  
O simple Souls, as sweet as Virgin wax.  
O happy heads, and labouring bodies blest,  
O silly Doves, of holy Abraham's breast:  
You sleep in peace, and rise in joy and bliss,  
For Heaven hence, for you prepared is.   


A rare report yet truly given of Wales.  Where shall we find, such dealing now adays?  
Where is such cheer, so cheap and change of fare?  
Ride North and South, and search all beaten ways,  
From Barwick bounds, to Venice if you dare,  
And find the like, that I in Wales have found,  
And I shall be, your slave and bondman bound.  
If Wales be thus, as trial well shall prove,  
Take Wales goodwill, and give them neighbours love.   


You must read further before you find Ludloe described.  To Ludloe now, my muse must needs return,  
A season short, no long discourse doth crave:  
Time rouleth on, I do but daylight burn,  
And many things, in deed to do I have.  
Look what great Town, doth front on Wales this hour,  
I mind to touch, God sparing life and power:  
Not hyerd thereto, but hauled by heart's desire  
To give them praise, whose deeds do fame require.  
Verte folium.    

¶ Of Shrewsebury Churches and the Monuments therein, 
The Author's forgetfulness cleansed.  with a Bridge of stone two bowshot long, and a street called Colam, being in the Subbarbs, and a fair Bridge there in like manner: all this was forgotten in the first copy.  

I Had such haste, in hope to be but brief,  
That Monuments, in Churches were forgot:  
And somewhat more, behind the walls as chief,  
Where Plays have been, 
A pleasant and artificial piece of ground  which is most worthy note.  
There is a ground, new made Theat or wise,  
Both deep and high, in goodly ancient guise:  
Where well may sit, ten thousand men at ease,  
And yet the one, the other not displease.   

A space below, to bait both Bull and Bear,  
For Players too, great room and place at will.  
And in the same, a Cock pit wondrous fear,  
Besides where men, may wrestle in their fill.  
A ground most apt, and they that sits above,  
At once in view, all this may see for love:  
At aston's Play, 
Master Aston was a good and godly Preacher.  who had beheld this then,  
Might well have seen, there twenty thousand men.   

Fair Severn stream, runs round about this ground,  
Save that one side, is closed with Shrewsebrie wall:  
And Severn banks, 
A Friary house stood by this ground called the Welsh Friars. In Shrewseburie were three Friar houses.  whose beauty doth abound,  
In that same Soil, behold at will ye shall.  
Who comes to mark, and note what may be seen,  
Shall surely see, great pleasures on this green:  
Who walks the banks, and thinks his pain not great,  
Shall say the Town, is sure a princely Seat.   

Without the walls, as Subbarbs builded be,  
So do they stand, as arms and legs to Town:  
Each one a street, doth answer in degree,  
And by some part, comes Severn running down:  
As though that stream, had mind to guard them all,  
And as through bridge, this flood doth daily fall,  
So of Freestone, three Bridges big there are,  
All stately built, a thing full strange and rare.   

Then judge by this, and other things a heap,  
They had deep skill, that first the founders were:  
Good right they should, the fruit of labour reap,  
Whose wit and wealth, did all the charges bear.  
O fathers wise, and wits beyond the nick,  
That had the head, the spréetes and sense so quick:  
O golden age, that car'de not what was spent,  
So leaden days, did stand therewith content.   

Gold were those years, that spared such silver pence,  
And brazen world, was that which hoardward all:  
The leaden days, that we have saverd since,  
bites to the bones, and tasteth worse than gall.  
What new things now, with frankness well begun,  
Can stain those deeds, our father's old have done:  
Great Towns they built, great Churches reared likewise,  
Which makes our fame, to fall and theirs to rise.   

Look on the works, and wits of former age,  
And our time shall, come dragging far behind:  
If both times might, be plainly played on stage,  
And old time passed, be truly called to mind,  
For all our brave, fine glorious buildings gay,  
Time past would run, with all the fame away.  
Ask Oxford that, and Cambridge if it please,  
In this one point, shall you resolve at ease.   


A brief discourse of ancient tyme.  In ancient time, our elders had desire,  
To build their Towns, on steep and stately hill:  
To show that as, their hearts did still aspire,  
So should their works, declare their worthy will.  
And for that then, the world was full of strife,  
And few men stood, assured of land or life:  
Such quarrels rose, about great rule and state,  
That no one Soil, was free from foul debate.   


The occasion of building strong Holds.  For which sharp cause, that daily bred discord,  
They made strong Holds, and Castles of defence:  
And such as wear, the Kings the Prince and Lord  
Of any place, would spare for no expense,  
To see that safe, that they had hardly won:  
For which sure point, were Forts and Towns begun:  
And further lo, if people waxed wild,  
They brought in fear, by this both man an child.   

And if men may, judge who had most ado,  
Or guess by Forts, and Holds what Land was best:  
Or look upon, 
Wales hath a wonderful number of Castles.  our common quarrels to:  
Or search what made, men seek for peace and rest,  
Behold but Wales, and note the Castles there,  
And you shall find, no such works any where:  
So old so strong, so costly and so high,  
Not under Sun, is to be seen with eye.   

And to be plain, so many Holds they have,  
As sure it is, a world to mark them well:  
Pause there a while, my muse must pardon crave,  
Pen may not long, upon such matter dwell.  
Now Denbigh comes, 
A description of Denbighshiere.  to be set forth in verse,  
Which shall both Town, and Castle here rehearse:  
So that the verse, such credit may attain,  
As writer shall, not lose no piece of pain.    

❧ An Introduction to bring in Denbighshiere.  

HAth sloth and sleep, bewitched my senses so,  
That head cannot, 
A conceited toy to set a broach an earnest matter.  awake the idle hand:  
Is friendly muse, become so great a foe,  
That labouring pen, in pennor still shall stand.  
What trifling toy, doth trouble writers brain,  
That earnest love, forgets sweet Poets vain?  
Bid welcome mirth, and sad conceits adieu,  
And fall again, to write some matter new.   

Let old device, a Lantern be to this,  
To give skill light, and make sound judgement see:  
Since gazing eyes, hath seen what each thing is,  
And that no Town, nor Soil is hid from thee:  
Set forth in verse, as well this Country here,  
As thou at large, hast set out Monmouthshiere:  
Praise one alone, the rest will thee disdain,  
A day may come, at length to quite thy pain.   

Though former toils, be lost in Summer last,  

Being Muster-maister of Kent more chargeable than well considered of there.  Despair not now, for Wales is thankful still:  
Thou hast gone far, the greatest brunt is past,  
Then forward pass, and pluck not back goodwill,  
Put hand to Plough, like man go through with all,  
Thy ground is good, rim and thou canst not fall:  
When seed is sown, and time bestows some pain,  
Thou shalt be known, a reaper of good grain.   

Hold on thy course, and travail Wales all ore,  
And whet thy wits, to mark and note it well:  
And thou shalt see, thou never saw'st before,  
Right goodly things, in deed that doth excel:  
More ancient Towns, more famous Castles old,  
Then well far of, with ease thou mayst behold:  
With Denbighshiere, thy second work begin,  
And thou shalt see, what glory thou shalt win.   

So I took horse, and mounted up in haste,  
From Monmouthshiere, a long the coasts I ride:  
When frost and snow, and wayward winter's waste,  

Chirke Castle a goodly and princely house yet.  Did beat from tree, both leaves and summers pride.  
I entered first, at Chirke, right o'er a Brook,  
Where staying still, on Country well to look.  
A Castle fair, appeared to sight of eye,  
Whose walls were great, and towers both large and high.   

Full underneath, the same doth Kéeryock run,  
A raging Brook, 
Keeryock a wondrous violent water.  when rain or snow is great:  
It was some Prince, that first this house begun,  
It shows far of, to be so brave a Seat.  
On side of hill, 
Master john Edward's hath a fair house near this.  it stands most trim to view,  
An old strong place, a Castle nothing new.  
A goodly thing, a princely Palace yet,  
If all within, were thoroughly furnished fit.   

Beyond the same, there is a Bridge of stone,  
That stands on Dée, 
New Bridge on the River Dee.  a River deep and swift:  
It seems as it, would rive the Rocks alone,  
Or undermine, with force the craggy Clift.  
To Chester runs, this River all along,  
With gushing stream, and roaring water strong:  
On both the sides, are banks and hills good store,  
And mighty stones, that makes the River roar.   

It flows with wind, although no rain there be,  
And swells like Sea, 
A strange nature of a water  with waves and foaming flood:  
A wonder sure, to see this River Dée,  
With wind alone, to wax so wild and wood,  
Make such a stir, 
There is a pool in Meryonethshiere of three mile long rageth so by storm that it makes this River flow.  as water would be mad,  
And show such life, as though some spirit it had.  
A cause there is, a nature for the same,  
To bring this flood, in such strange case and frame.   

Not far from this, there stands on little mount,  
A right fair Church, with pillars large and wide:  
A monument, 
Ruabon Church is a fair piece of work.  therein of good account,  
Full finely wrought, amid the queer I spied,  
A Tomb there is, right rich and stately made,  
Where two doth lie, in stone and ancient trade.  
The man and wife, with sumptuous solemn guise,  
In this rich sort, before the Altar lies.   

His head on crest, and warlike Helmet stays,  

This Gentleman was called john Bellis Eytton.  A Lion blew, on top thereof comes out:  
On lions neck, along his legs he lays,  
Two Gauntlets white, are lying there about.  
An ancient Squire, he was and of good race,  
As by his Arms, appears in many a place:  
His house and lands, not far from thence doth shoe,  
His birth and blood, was great right long ago.   

The trimmest glass, that may in window be,  
(Wherein the root, of jesse well is wrought)  
At Altar head, of Church now shall you see,  
Yea all the glass, of Church was dearly bought.   

Within two miles, there is a famous thing,  

offa's Dyke.  called offa's Dyke, that reacheth far in length:  
All kind of ware, the Danes might thither bring,  
It was free ground, and called the Britain's strength.  
Wat's Dyke likewise, about the same was set,  

Wat's Dyke.  Between which two, both Danes and Britain's met,  
And traffic still, but passing bounds by sleight,  
The one did take, the other prisoner straight.   

Thus foes could meet, (as many times they may)  
And do no harm, when profit meant they both:  
Good rule and law, makes baddest things to stay,  
That else by rage, to wretched revel goeth.  
The brutest beasts, that savage are of kind,  
Together comes, as season is assyude:  
The angryest men, that can no friendship bide,  
Must cease from war, when peace appals their pride.   

Now let this go, and call in haste to mind,  
Trim Wricksam Town, 
Robert howel lies there a Gentleman.  a pearl of Denbighshiere:  
In whose fair Church, a Tomb of stone I find,  
Under a wall, right hand on side of queer.  
On th'other side, one Pilson lies in grave,  
Whose hearse of black, saith he a Tomb shall have:  
In Quéere lies Hope, by Arms of gentle race,  
Of function once, a rector in that place.   

But speak of Church, and steeple as I ought,  
My pen to base, so fair a work to touch:  
Within and out, they are so finely wrought,  
I cannot praise, the workmanship too much.  
But built of late, not eight score years ago,  
Not of long time, the date thereof doth shoe:  
No common work, but sure a work most fine,  
As though they had, been wrought by power divine.   

The steeple there, in form is full four square,  
Yet every way, five pinnackles appear:  
Trim Pictures fair, in stone on outside are,  
Made all like wax, as stone were nothing dear.  
The height so great, the breadth so big withal,  
No piece thereof, is likely long to fall,  
A work that stands, to stain a number more,  
In any age, that hath been built before.    

❧ A general Commendation of Gentility.  

near Wricksam dwells, of Gentlemen good store,  
Of calling such, as are right well to live:  
By Market town, I have not seen no more,  
(In such small room) that ancient Arms do give.  


In Maylor, are all these Gentlemen.  
Master Roger Pilsons house at It●hlay.  
Master Almmer at Pantyokin.  
Master john Pilson of Bersan.  
Master Edward jones of Cadoogan. Master james Eaton of Eatton.  
Master Edward Eaton by Ruabon. Master Owen Brueton of Borras.  
Master john Pilson of Haberdewerne. Master Thomas powel of Horsley.  
Master john Trevar of Trevohn. Agene all praise of all Gentlemen inhabiting of any Country.   They are the joy, and gladness of the poor,  
That daily feeds, the hungry at their door:  
In any Soil, where Gentlemen are found,  
Some house is kept, and bounty doth abound.   

They beautify, both Town and Country too,  
And furnished are, to serve at need in field:  
And every thing, in rule and order do,  
And unto God, and man due honour yield.  
They are the strength, and surety of the Land,  
In whose true hearts, doth trust and credit stand,  
By whose wise heads, the neighbours ruled are,  
In whom the Prince, reposeth greatest care.   

They are the flowers, of every garden ground,  
For where they want, there grows but wicked weeds:  
Their tree and fruit, in rotten world is sound,  
Their noble minds, will bring forth faithful deeds:  
Their glory rests, in Country's wealth and fame,  
They have respect, to blood and ancient name:  
They weigh nothing, so much as loyal heart,  
Which is most pure, and clean in every part.   

They do uphold, all civil manners mild,  
All manly acts, all wise and worthy ways:  
If they were not, the Country would grow wild,  
And we should soon, forget our elders days:  
Beware blunt of wit, in speech grow rude and rough,  
Want virtue still, and have of vice enough.  
Show feeble spirit, lack courage every where,  
Doubt many a thing, and our own shadows fear.   

They dare attempt, for fame and high renown,  
To scale the Clouds, if men might climb the air:  
Assault the Stars, and pluck the Planets down,  
Give charge on Moon, and Sun that shines so fair.  
I mean they dare, attempt the greatest things,  
Fly swiftly over, high Hills if they had wings:  
Beat back the Seas, and tear the Mountains too,  
Yea what dare not, a man of courage do.   

Now must I turn, to my discourse again,  
I Wricksam leave, 
Holt Castle an excellent fine place, the River of Dee running by it.  and pen out further place:  
So if my muse, were now in pleasant vain,  
Holt Castle should, from verse receive some grace:  
The Seat is fine, and trimly built about,  
With lodgings fair, and goodly rooms throughout,  
Strong Uaults and Caves, 
Master Hues dwells there.  and many an old device,  
That in our days, are held of worthy price.   

That place must pass, 
Master evan Flood dwells in Yale, in a fair house.  with praise and so adieu,  
My muse is bend, (and pen is ready priest)  
To feed your ears, with other matters new,  
That yet remains, in head and labouring breast.  
A Mountain town, that is Thlangothlan called,  
A pretty Seat, but not well built nor walled,  
Stands in the way, 
Castle Dynosebraen on a woody hill on the one side, & Green Castle on the other.  to Yale and writhe both,  
Where are great Hills, and Plains but few for troth.   

Of Mountains now, in deed my muse must run,  
The Poets there, did dwell as fables feign:  
Because some say, they would be near the Sun,  
And taste sometimes, the frost, the cold, and rain,  
To judge of both, which is the chief and best.  
Who knows no toil, 
A Bridge of stone very fair there stands over Dee.  can never skill of rest,  
Who always walks, on carpet soft and gay,  
Knows not hard Hills, nor likes the Mountain way.    

A discourse of Mountains.  

DAme Nature drew, 
Master Lakon. Ma. Thlude of Yale.  these Mountains in such sort,  
As though the one, should yield the other grace:  
Or as each Hill, itself were such a Fort,  
They scorned to stoop, to give the Cannon place.  
If all were plain, and smooth like garden ground,  
Where should high woods, and goodly groves be found:  
The eyes delight, that looks on every coast,  
With pleasures great, and fair prospect were lost.   

On Hill we view, far of both field and flood,  
Feel heat or cold, and so suck up sweet air:  
Behold beneath, great wealth and worldly good,  
See walled Towns, and look on Country's fair▪  
And who so sits, or stands on Mountain high,  
Hath half a world, in compass of his eye:  
A platform made, of Nature for the nonce,  
Where man may look, on all the earth at once.   

These ragged Rocks, brings plainest people forth,  
On Mountain wild, the hardest Horse is bred:  
Though grass thereon, be gross and little worth,  
Sweet is the food, where hunger so is fed.  
On roots and herbs, our fathers long did feed,  
And near the Sky, grows sweetest fruit in deed:  
On marish meres, and watery mossy ground,  
Are rotten weeds, and rubbish dross unsound.   

The fogs and mists, that rise from vale below,  
A reason makes, that highest Hills are best:  
And when such fogs, doth over the Mountain go,  
In foulest days, fair weather may be guessed.  
As bitter blasts, on Mountains big doth blow,  
So noisome smells, and savours breed below:  
The Hill stands clear, and clean from filthy smell,  
They find not so, that doth in Ualley dwell.   

The Mountain men, live longer many a year,  
Then those in vale, in plain or marish soil:  
A lusty heart, a clean complexion clear  
They have on Hill, that for hard living toil.  
With Ewe and Lamb, with Goats and Kids they play,  
In greatest toils, to rub out weary day:  
And when to house, and home good fellows draw,  
The lads can laugh, at turning of a straw.   

No air so pure, and wholesome as the Hill,  
Both man and beast, delights to be thereon:  
In heat or cold, it keeps one nature still,  
Trim neat and dry, and gay to go upon.  
A place most fit, for pastime and good sport,  
To which wild Stag, and Buck doth still resort:  
To cry of Hounds, the Mountain echo yields,  
A grace to vale, a beauty to the fields.   

It stands for world, as though a watch it were,  
A stately guard, to keep green meadow mild:  
The Poets feign, on shoulders it doth hear  
The heavens high, but there they are beguiled.  
The maker first, of Mountain and of vale,  
Made Hill a wall, to clip about the Dale:  
A strong defence, for needful fruit and Corn,  
That else by blast, might quickly be forlorn.   

If boisterous winds, were not withstood by strength,  
Repulsed by force, and driven backward too,  
They would destroy, our earthly joys at length,  
And through their rage, they would much mischief do.  
God saw what smart, and grief the earth would bide  
By sturdy storms, and piercing tempests pride:  
So Mountains made, to save the lower soil,  
For fear the earth, should suffer shameful spoil.   

How could weak leaves, and blossoms hang on tree,  
If boystring winds, should branches daily beat:  
How could poor souls, in Cottage quiet be,  
If higher grounds, did not defend their seat.  
Who buylds his bower, right under foot of hill,  
Hath little cold, and weather warm at will:  
Thus prove I here, the Mountain frendeth all,  
Stands stiff 'gainst storms, like steel or brazen wall.   

You may compare, a King to Mountain high,  
Whose princely power, can bide both bront and shock  
Of bitter blast, or Thunderbolt from Sky,  
His Fortress stands, upon so firm a Rock.  
A Prince helps all, and doth so strongly sit,  
That none can harm, by fraud, by force nor wit.  
The weak must lean, where strength doth most remain,  
The Mountain great, commands the little Plain.   

As Mountain is, a noble stately thing,  
Thrust full of stones, and Rocks as hard as steel:  
A peerless piece, compared unto a King,  
Who sits full fast, on top of Fortune's wheel:  
So is the Dale, a place of subtle air,  
A den of dross, oft times more foul than fair:  
A dirty Soil, where water long doth bide,  
Yet rich withal, it cannot be denied.   

But wealth mars wit, and wears out virtue clean,  
An eating worm, a canker past recure:  
A treble loud, but not a merry mean,  
That Music makes, but rather jars procure:  
A stirrer up, of strife and lewd debate,  
The ground of war, that staineth every state  
With gifts and bribes, that greedy glutton feeds  
And fills the gut, whereon great treason breeds.   

Wealth fosters pride, and heaves up haughty heart,  
Makes wit oreweene, and man believe to far:  
Enfects the mind, with vice in every part,  
That quickly sets, the senses all at war.  
In Ualley rich, these mischiefs nourished are,  
God planted peace, on Mountain poor and bare:  
By sweat of brows, the people lives on Hill,  
Not sleight of brain, ne craft nor cunning skill.   

Where dwells disdain, discord or double ways,  
But where rich Cubs, and currish Karles are found?  
Where is more love, who hath more happy days,  
Then those poor hinds, that digs and delves the ground.  
Perhaps you say, so hard the Rocks may be,  
Ne Corn nor grass, nor plough thereon you see:  
Yet lo the Lord, such blessing there doth give,  
That sweet content, with Oaten Cakes can live.   

Sour Whey and Curds, can yield a sugared taste,  
Where sweet Martchpane, as yet was never known▪  
When empty gorge, hath bowl of Milk embraced,  
And Cheese and bread, hath daily of his own,  
He craves no feast, nor seeks no banquets fine,  
He can digest, his dinner without wine:  
So toils out life, and likes full well this trade,  
Not fearing death, because his count is made.   

Who sleeps so sound, as he that hath no Sheep,  
Nor heard of Beasts, to pastor and to feed?  
Who fears the Wolf, but he who Lambs doth keep,  
And many an hour, is forced to watch in deed.  
Though gold be gay, and cordial in his kind,  
The loss of wealth, gripes long a greedy mind.  
Poor Mountain folk, possess not such great store,  
But when it's gone, they care not much therefore.    

❧ Of Yale a little to be spoken of.  



The names of the Rivers of Denbighshire. Keeriock parts Shropshere & Dembighshere, before Chirk. Dee at new Bridge, and Thlangothlen.  
Aleyn in the valley of Yale. Clanweddock in the fair vale of Dufrin Cloyd.  
Cloyd receives Clanweddock and Elwye by Saint Ass. Istrade by Denbigh. Raihad comes to the Vo●●ney.  
Keynthleth comes into Rayhad.   THE Country Yale, hath Hills and Mountains high,  
Small Ualleys there, save where the Brooks do run:  
So many Springs, that seld that soil is dry:  
Good Tursfe and peat, on mossy ground is won,  
Wherewith good fires, is made for man most meet,  
That burneth clear, and yields a savour sweet  
To those which have, no nose for dainty smell,  
The finer sort, were best in Court to dwell.   

This Soil is cold, and subject unto wind,  
Hard dusky Rocks, all covered over full dim:  
Where if wind blow, ye shall foul weather find,  
And think you feel, the bitter blasts full brim.  
But though cold bites, the face and outward skin,  
The stomach lo, is thereby warmed within.  
For still more meat, the Mountain men digest,  
Then in the plain, you find among the best.   

Here is hard ways, as earth and Mountain yields,  
Some softness too, as tract of foot hath made:  
But to the Dames, for walk no pleasant fields,  
Nor no great woods, to shroud them in the shade.  
Yet Sheep and Goats, are plenty here in place,  
And good welsh Nags, that are of kindest race:  
With goodly nowt, both fat and big with bone,  
That on hard Rocks, and Mountain feeds alone.   

Of writhen now, I treat as reason is,  
But licence crave, to talk on such a Seat:  
Excuse my skill, where pen or muse doth miss,  
Where knowledge fails, the cunning is not great.  
But ere I writ, a verse upon that Soil,  
I will cry out, of Time that all doth spoil:  
As age wears youth, and youth gives age the place,  
So Time wears world, and doth old works disgrace.    

A discourse of Time.  

O Tract of Time, that all consumes to dust,  
We hold thee not, for thou art bald behind:  
The fairest Sword, or metal thou wilt rust,  
And brightest things, bring quickly out of mind.  
The trimmest Towers, and Castles great and gay,  
In process long, at length thou dost decay:  
The bravest house, and princely buildings rare,  
Thou wastes and wears, and leaves the walls but bare.   

O canker vile, that creeps in hardest mould,  
The Marble stone, or Flint thy force shall feel:  
Thou hast a power, to pierce and eat the gold,  
Fling down the strong, and make the stout to reel.  
O wasting worm, that eats sweet kernels all,  
And makes the Nut, to dust and powder fall:  
O glutton great, that feeds on each man's store,  
And yet thyself, no better art therefore.   

Time all consumes, and helps itself no whit,  
As fire by flame, burns coals to cinders small:  
Time steals in man, much like an Ague fit,  
That wears the face, the flesh the skin and all.  
O wretched rust, that wilt not scoured be,  
O dreadful Time, the world is feared of thee:  
Thou flingest flat, the highest Tree that grows,  
And triumph makes, on pomp and painted shows.   

But most of all, my muse doth blame thee now,  
For throwing down, a rare and goodly Seat:  
By writhen Town, a noble Castle throw,  
That in time past, had many a lodging great,  
And Towers most fair, that long a building was,  
Where now God wots, there grows nothing but grass:  
The stones lie waste, the walls seems but a shell  
Of little worth, where once a Prince might dwell.    

Of writhen, both the Castle and the Town.  


The Castle of writhen is yet outwardly a marvelous fair and large princely place.  THis Castle stands, on Rock much like red Brick,  
The Dykes are cut, with tool through stony nag:  
The Towers are high, the walls are large and thick,  
The work itself, would shake a subjects bag,  
If he were bend, to build the like again:  
It rests on mount, and looks o'er wood and Plain:  
It had great store, of Chambers finely wrought,  
That time alone, to great decay hath brought.   

It shows within, by double walls and ways,  
A deep device, did first erect the same:  
It makes our world, to think on elders days,  
Because the work, was formed in such a frame.  
One tower or wall, the other answers right,  
As though at call, each thing should please the sight:  
The Rock wrought round, where every tower doth stand,  
Set forth full fine, by head by heart and hand.   


There is a Pool here abouts that hath in it a kind of fish that no other water can show.  And fast hard by, runs Cloyd a River swift,  
In winter time, that swells and spreads the field:  
That water sure, hath such a secret gift,  
And such rare Fish, in season due doth yield,  
As is most strange: let men of knowledge now  
Of such hid cause, search out the nature throw:   

A Pool there is, through which this Cloyd doth pass,  
Where is a Fish, that some a Whiting call:  
Where never yet, no Salmon taken was,  
Yet hath good store, of other Fishes all  
Above that Pool, and so beneath that flood  
Are Sammons caught, and many a Fish full good:  
But in the same, there will no Salmon be,  
And near that Pool, you shall no Whiting see.   

I have left out, 
A River called Aleyn, in the valley of Yale.  a River and a vale,  
And both of them, are fair and worthy note:  
Who will them seek, shall find them still in Yale,  
They bear such fame, they may not be forgot.  
The River runs, a mile right under ground,  
And where it springs, the issue doth abound:  
And into Dée, this water doth dissend,  
So loseth name, and therein makes an end.   

Good ground likewise, 
The valley of Yale.  this Ualley seems to be,  
And many a man, of wealth is dwelling there:  
On Mountain top, the Ualley shall you see  
All over green, with goodly Meadows fear.  
This Ualley hath, a noble neighbour near,  
Wherein the Town, of writhen doth appear:  
Which Town stands well, and wants no pleasant air,  
The noble Soil, and Country is so fair.   

A Church there is, in writhen at this day,  
Wherein Lord Gray, 
The Earl of Kent lies here.  that once was Earl of Kent,  
In Tomb of stone, amid the Chancel lay:  
But since removed, as worldly matters went,  
And in a wall, so laid as now he lies  
Right hand of queer, 
An Anckres in King Henry the fourth's time buried here.  full plain before your eyes:  
An Anckres too, that near that wall did dwell,  
With trim wrought work, in wall is buried well.   

Now to the vale, of worthy Dyffrin Cloyd,  
My muse must pass, a Soil most rich and gay:  
This noble Seat, that never none annoyed,  

The pleasant vale of Diffrin Cloyd.  That saw the same, and road or went that way:  
The view thereof, so much contents the mind,  
The air therein, so wholesome and so kind:  
The beauty such, the breadth and length likewise,  
Makes glad the heart, and pleaseth each man's eyes.   

This vale doth reach, so far in view of man,  
As he far of, may see the Seas in deed:  
And who a while, for pleasure travail can  
Throughout this vale, and thereof take good heed,  
He shall delight, to see a Soil so fine,  
For ground and grass, a passing plot divine.  
And if the troth, thereof a man may tell,  
This vale alone, doth all the rest excel.   


The Vale thoroughly described.  As it below, a wondrous beauty shows,  
The Hills above, doth grace it treble fold:  
On every side, as far as Ualley goes,  
A border big, of Hills ye shall behold:  
They keep the vale, in such a quiet sort,  
That birds and beasts, for secure there resort:  
Yea flocks of foul, and herds of beasts sometime,  
Draws there from storm, when tempests are in prime.   

Three Rivers run, amid the bottom here,  

Three Rivers in this Vale.  Istrade, and Clean, Clanweddock (lo) the third:  
The noise of streams, in Summer morning clear,  

A natural secret touched.  The chirp and charm, and chant of every bird  
That passeth there, a second Heaven is:  
No hellish sound, more like an earthly bliss:  
A Music sweet, that through our ears shall creep,  
By secret art, and lull a man a sleep.    

The Castle of Cargoorley in Denbighshiere,  

CArgoorley comes, right now to pass my pen,  
With ragged walls, 
Thomas Salesburie of Lleweni. Robert Salesburie of Bachenbid. Foulk Lloyd of Houllan. Piers Holland of Kynmel. Piers Owen of Abergele. Edward Theleall of Beren. William Wyn of Llamuaire. Elis Price of Spitty. john Middleton.  yea all to rend and torn:  
As though it had, been never known to men,  
Or careless left, as wretched thing forlorn:  
Like beggar bare, as naked as my nail,  
It lies along, whose wrack doth none bewail.  
But if she knew, to whom it doth pertain,  
What royalties, and honours doth remain  
Unto that Seat, it should repaired be,  
For further cause, then common people see.   

But sundry things, that are full far from sight,  
Are out of mind, and clean forgot in fine:  
So such as have, thereto but little right,  
Possess the same, by level and by line,  
Or else by hap, or suit as often falls:  
But what of that, Cargoorleys' rotten walls  
Can never bring, his better in dispute,  
That hath perchance, been got by hap or suit:  
So rest good muse, and speak no further here,  
Lest by these words, some hidden thoughts appear.   

King's give and take, so time still rouleth on,  
Good Subjects serve, for somewhat more or less:  
And when we see, our father's old are gone,  
Of time to come, we have a greater guess.  
First how to gain, by present time and state,  
Then what may fall, by futer time and date:  
Time past grows cold, and so the world lukewarm  
Doth help itself, by Castle, house or Farm:  
That reach is good, that rule my friends God send,  
Which well begin, and makes a virtuous end.   

ODenbigh now, appear thy turn is next,  
I need no gloze, nor shade to set thee out:  
For if my pen, do follow plainest text,  
And pass next way, and go nothing about,  
Thou shalt be known, as worthy well thou art,  
The noblest Soil, that is in any part:  
And for thy Seat, and Castle do compare,  
With any one, of Wales what ere they are.   

This Castle stands, on top of Rock most high,  

The strongest Castle & seat that ever man beheld.  A mighty crag, as hard as flint or steel:  
A massy mount, whose stones so deep doth lie,  
That no device, may well the bottom feel.  
The Rock descends, beneath the ancient Town,  
About the which, a stately wall goes down,  
With buildings great, and posterns to the same,  
That goes through Rock, to give it greater fame.   

I want good words, and reasons apt therefore,  
Itself shall show, the substance of my tale:  
But yet my pen, must tell here somewhat more,  
Of Castle's praise, as I have spoke of Uale.  

Mark well the situation and building of the same.  A strength of state, ten times as strong as fair,  
Yet fair and fine, with double walls full thick,  
Like tarres trim, to take the open air,  
Made of Fréestone, and not of burned Brick:  
No building there, but such as man might say,  
The work thereof, would last till judgement day.   

The Seat so sure, not subject to a Hill,  
Nor yet to Mine, nor force of Cannon blast:  
Within that house, may people walk at will,  
And stand full safe, till danger all be past.  
If Cannon roared, or barked against the wall,  
Friends there may say, a fig for enemies all:  
Five men within, may keep out numbers great,  
(In furious sort) that shall approach that Seat.   

Who stands on Rock, and looks right down alone,  
Shall think below, a man is but a child:  
I sought myself, from top to fling a stone  
With full main force, 
A practice by the Author proved.  and yet I was beguyid.  
If such a height, the mighty Rock be than,  
Ne force nor sleight, nor stout attempt of man,  
Can win the Fort, if house be furnished throw,  
The troth whereof, let world be witness now.   

It is great pain, from foot of Rock to climb  
To Castle wall, and it is greater toil  
On Rock to go, yea any step sometime  
Uprightly yet, without a fall or foil.  
And as this Seat, and Castle strongly stands,  
Past winning sure, with engine sword or hands:  
So looks it over, the Country far or near,  
And shines like Torch, and Lantern of the sheer.   

Wherefore Denbigh, 
A great glory given to Denbigh.  thou bear'st away the praise,  
Denbigh hath got, the garland of our days:  
Denbigh reaps fame, and laud a thousand ways,  
Denbigh my pen, unto the Clouds shall raise.  
The Castle there, could I in order draw,  
It should surmount, now all that ere I saw.    

¶ Of Valley Crucis Thlangothlan, and the Castle Dynosebrane.  

THE great desire, to see Denbigh at full,  
Did draw my muse, from other matter true:  
But as that sight, my mind away did pull  
From former things, I should present to you.  
So duty bids, a writer to be plain,  
And things left out, to call to mind again:  
Thlangothlan then, must yet come once in place,  
For divers notes, that gives this book some grace.   


The Abbey of valley Crucis.  An Abbey near, that Mountain town there is,  
Whose walls yet stand, and steeple too likewise:  
But who that rides, to see the troth of this,  
Shall think he mounts, on hills unto the Skies.  
For when one hill, behind your back you see,  
Another comes, two times as high as he:  
And in one place, the Mountains stands so there,  
In roundness such, as it a Cockpit were.   

Their height is great, and full of narrow ways,  
And steep down right, of force ye must descend:  
Some houses are, built there but of late days,  
Full underneath, the monstrous Mountains end:  
Amid them all, and those as man may guess,  
When rain doth fall, doth stand in sore distress:  
For mighty streams, runs over both house and thatch,  
When for their lives, poor men on Hills must watch.   

Beyond the same, and yet on Hill full high,  

Castle Dynosebraen.  A Castle stands, an old and ruinous thing:  
That haughty house, was built in weather's eye,  
A pretty pile, and pleasure for a King.  
A Fort, a Strength, a strong and stately Hold  
It was at first, though now it is full old:  
On Rock alone, full far from other Mount  
It stands, which shows, it was of great account.   

Between the Town, and Abbey built it was,  


A goodly bridge of stone here.  
The Town and the bridge with the violent River before that Town.   The Town is near, the goodly River Dée,  
That underneath, a Bridge of stone doth pass,  
And still on Rock, the water runs you see  
A wondrous way, a thing full rare and strange,  
That Rock cannot, the course of water change:  
For in the stream, huge stones and Rocks remain,  
That backward might, the flood of force constrain.   

From thence to Chirke, are Mountains all a row,  
As though in rank, and battle Mountains stood:  
And over them, the bitter wind doth blow,  
And whirls betwixt, the valley and the wood.  
Chirke is a place, that parts another sheer,  
And as by Trench, and Mount doth well appear:  
It kept those bounds, from foreign force and power,  
That men might sleep, in surety every hour.   

Here Denbighshiere, departs from writer's pen,  
And Flintshiere now, 
A little spoke of Fluntshiere.  comes bravely marching in,  
With Castles fine, with proper Towns and men,  
Whereof in verse, my matter must begin:  
Not for to fayne, and please the tender ears,  
But to be plain, 
The Author fell sick here.  as world's eye witness bears:  
Not by hearsay, as fables are set out,  
But by good proof, of view to void a doubt.   

WHen Summer sweet, 
The writer takes here breath till a better season serves.  hath blown o'er Winter's blast,  
And ways wax hard, that now are soft and foul:  
When calmy Skies, saith bitter storms are past,  
And Clouds wax clear, that now doth lower and skoule,  
My muse I hope, shall be revived again,  
That now lies dead, or rocked a sleep with pain.  
For labour long, hath wearied so the wit,  
That studious head, a while in rest must sit:  
But when the Spring, comes on with new delight,  
You shall from me, hear what my muse doth write.   
Here endeth my first book of the worthiness of Wales: which being well taken, will encourage me to set forth another: in which work, not only the rest of the Shires (that now are not written of) shallbe orderly put in print, but likewise all the ancient Arms of Gentlemen there in general shallbe plainly described & set out, to the open view of the world, if God permit me life and health, towards the finishing of so great a labour.  
FINIS.  
Thomas Churchyard.    


EN·DIEU·ET·MON·ROY·  
Churchiards Arms.   blazon or coat of arms