THE duty OF SIR FRANCIS Wortley; delineated, IN HIS pious pity, and Christian Commiseration of the sorrows and Sufferings of the most virtuous, yet unfortunate Lady ELISABETH Queen of BOHEMIA.  
BEING A Dedication to FAME and truth: preferred to both the Houses of Parliament.  
BY Her humble Servant and Honourer, Sir FRANCIS WORTLEY Knight and baronet.  
LONDON, Printed by R. O. for F. W. MDCXLI.   

THE sorrows AND sufferings OF THE MOST virtuous LADY ELIZABETH Queen of BOHEMIA.  

IF all the VERTVES which the critics call  
VERTVES Divine, and VERTVES Cardinal,  
If these together mixed with royal BLOOD  
Can scarcely make a claim to merit Good;  
If HER great Merits could not impetrate  
So much, as not to be Unfortunate,  
And in misfortunes to exceed so far,  
As if the worst of all her sex she were:  
How light would our best works be in Heavn's scale,  
If she thus far in point of Merit fail.  
Had she been Rome's, her Supererrogation  
Had been sufficient for the British Nation;  
And would have made the papal Sea as great  
As Rome was, when it was Augustus' Seat:  
Who would not have a blessed Pilgrim been  
Had he ere read the Story of this Queen?  
Had not the Roman Doctrine been disputed  
That others Merits cannot be imputed;  
The antinomists (though theyare very loath  
To trust to Works) their thread bare Faiths would clothe  
In her rich Merits; so even they might hope  
By Merits to be saved without a POPE.  
The Character of Patience Job even he  
Must lose some glory, if compared with thee:  
The Story of thy Sufferings who can tell?  
This I dare say, it hath no parallel.  
Thou were't the Daughter of a mighty KING,  
Great CHRLES his only Sister, and didst bring  
A Portion worthy the imperial crown  
Besides the greatest Portion was thine own.  
'Twas for Thy sake the German PRINCES did  
Set Bohemss crown upon thy husband's head:  
They saw good Queen thy virtues were so great,  
They would have placed Thee on th' imperial Seat.  
All these Thou lost at once; that we may see  
The Gods on Earth have a capacity  
Of fatal change, that Kings and Queens may know  
There are no fixed Fortunes here below:  
Lord what a Sea of Princely Christian Blood  
Hath been poured out to make Thy TITLE good,  
Thou and thy King with a distracted train  
Before Thy Foes fled and pursued amain▪  
Thy Husband banished from his Native soil,  
Friends, Cities, Country made a woeful spoil,  
And sacked; the Plague, the Famine, Fire and Sword,  
Were glutted all, Nature the sights abhorred:  
Yet as enough thy patience was not tried,  
Thy Gold in new Fires must be purified;  
Thy firstborn son which was the greatest loss  
With airy nails was fixed upon the cross  
Twixt heaven and Water, and the vessel drowned,  
There frozen to the Mast was next day found:  
Then Sweden's King that thunderbolt of war,  
Who (had he lived) had been an Emperor  
Had raised your husband's heart, that he espied  
Some glimmering hopes, and in that twilight died,  
Before thou canst recover such a cross  
Sad news was brought thee of another loss,  
That great Gustavus was untimely slain,  
(As 'twas supposed with Pistols sent from Spain)  
Whose martial soul not used to be said nay  
In its ascension got a glorious Day,  
As in his journey it the planets past,  
'Twas so much honoured, their great Mart at last  
Began to fear, he could not choose but see  
His Legends did incline to mutiny,  
And joined together would a council call,  
To make that Spirit of his their general.  
Never the soul of any King ascended  
Who had from Earth to heaven been more commended:  
My Muse grows weary with this tragic Story  
(Nor could I force her) were it not her Glory  
Whom it concerns; now to the last I come,  
(So may it be) her brave heroic son  
Whose sweetness here, had so much honour got,  
Except the Queen, few have so great a Stock,  
In Court and country both, nor could I see  
A kinder Father; saving Majesty,  
Then our King was, and seldom have I seen  
A kinder Mother than our virtuous Queen:  
When this sweet Prince had here tried some few friends,  
And had propounded to the King his ends;  
He ●hips himself, needs but to hoist half sail,  
Left prayers and sighs should raise too strong a gale▪  
Words are but air, and prayers but words inform,  
'tis but excess of air that makes a storm.  
Austria too long for justice had been suited,  
Their Cause must now with sharp swords be disputed.  
Our Kings and they with Treaties were deluded,  
Both she and hers by Act of State excluded  
From all their rights; an Army than they raised  
On such a sudden, it the World amazed;  
He brings them to the Field, besieged a town  
Which to th'Imperialists was quickly known.  
Two distant Armies correspondence hold,  
Which made even both the Armies far more bold,  
The lesser dares him out, keeps him in play;  
Mean while the stronger marches night and day,  
And got behind him, to his passage make,  
Which with their Horse too strong for his, they take:  
When the Prince saw his Army thus enclosed,  
He called a council; he himself supposed  
'Twas best to charge those which the passage kept,  
Which all agreed on, and before they slept,  
They march away, though they were almost tired,  
And overwatched, their Frenches than they fired:  
Into Brigadoes they their strength divide,  
Flanker their Foot with Horse on either side:  
Their strength was horse, their Baggage they enclose,  
Guarded their Cannon; then he Craven chose,  
And to his charge he did commit the Uan,  
Who proved himself that day a daring man;  
And showed himself so faithful and so bold,  
His name is in the book of Fame inroled,  
He and his Brother did bring up the rear,  
Whose high-born spirits did that day appear:  
Craven charged home and did them so dismay,  
But for their fresh supplies h''ve won the day:  
The battles join, th'Imperialists increased,  
And as they grew, death had the greater feast  
The rear came bravely up, the young Prince he  
In thirst of honour, sense of injury,  
Himself to such high hazards he exposed,  
As he was often by his Foes enclosed:  
Yet who enclosed him, or enforced his stay,  
He by their ruins made himself still way▪  
But when Prince Robert the brave second son  
(Who 'mongst the Soldiers hath such honour won)  
Heard that his Princely Brother was engaged,  
With love and martial fury both enraged,  
Through troops of foot and horse, he forced his way  
And finds him freed, yet there he would not stay,  
He forward pressed into the greatest throng  
Of all his Foes; his sword there told his wrong▪  
He picked out their Commanders whom he knew,  
By marks were given him, those he took or slay;  
Whole Troops of Horse and Foot his fury fly,  
Those he encounters, must or yield, or die:  
‛ I was happiness to them who did command,  
Since they must die, to die by such a hand.  
His Horse, his arms, his very Sword was tired,  
That spirit of his twice Samsons strength required;  
And would their wagons with rich spoils have laded,  
Nay all those Troops of German Horse have jaded;  
And thus retired they block him up they say,  
For none durst charge, 'twere thought the safest way:  
Have you e'er seen a chased Lion stand  
With toils encompased, and on every hand  
With Hunters galled; yet none the Lists dare enter  
Left he too dearly pay for his adventure.  
Whilst all the Hunters various ways contrive  
To take this Lion (if they can) alive:  
So galled and weary brave Prince Robert stood,  
The earth about him died with German Blood;  
At last a troop of desperate Men they horsed  
Who on all sides assault him; so inforsed  
With multitudes, when all the ways they'd tried,  
Thy took him living, who would fain have dy'd:  
Which news too soon did through the Army fly▪  
And that the Enemies had a fresh supply,  
Who had encompased them on every side:  
In every face that after this news died,  
He who had skill in Phisnomy might find  
How to revenge the Soldiers were inclin▪ d:  
'Tis true they lost the day; but they behaved  
Themselves so bravely, they their Honour saved;  
The meanest Soldiers by example led  
Mixed in Troops with Enemies lay dead.  
The Palsgrave was adviz'd to quit the Field,  
Which he refused, and scorned so much to yield:  
Being rudely pressed he cuts himself away  
Through all those Troops, none durst enforce his stay;  
He to the Wesen comes, into it leapt,  
Which him as safely as its sovereign kept;  
His sprightly Steed so bravely landed him,  
As if he had great Neptune's Dolphin been.  
'Tis true the waves in multitudes increased,  
And crowded in to welcome such a Guest▪  
Yet so obedient were to their commands  
The proudest wave there durst but kiss his hands.  
Thus landed safely on proud Wesens banks,  
He lifts his eyes up, and gives Heaven the thanks;  
With such a confidence to heaven he prays,  
H''ve Solomon blessings given, and length of days▪  
You who were once dear Wives▪ sad widows now,  
Mothers of Children, who have kept each row,  
Either to heaven, or to your Husbands made,  
Think how the Queen was with this news dismayed▪  
But you were never Daughters to a King▪  
Nor did such Portions to your Husbands bring▪  
The Worlds great love to you hath never cost,  
It any blood you have no kingdoms lost  
No hopes of Empire; there's no Prince hath tried  
His forttune in your cause, no Kings hav● died  
In your just quarrel, you have no 〈…〉 Estates,  
Or if you have, not two Palatinates:  
Your eldest son was not in shipwreck lost,  
Nor was your second on the Wesen tossed;  
Your third not taken prisoner by his Foes;  
Had you all these, and not such sons as those;  
How can you, or how dare you judge of Hers,  
But as poor Vassals speak of Emperors?  
They do believe at Court there are such things▪  
As they have heard, their Magistrates call Kings,  
Like those that dare the stars by name recite,  
Or count by▪ Unites to an infinite:  
theyare forced to end where they at first begin▪  
And so in arrogance commit a sin▪  
So should you rob this good Queen of her glory,  
But I much more in telling this sad story▪  
In this I do but as most people use▪  
I with a greater wrong a less excuse,  
That which my naked Muse should cover (Love▪)  
In this case doth my disadvantage prove;  
The World stands to affected to Her Story▪  
No Muse (I know) but would impair Her glory▪  
The Competition might grave Homer raise▪  
Or Maro's soul to sing the good Queen's praise:  
Who e'er he be he needs not to complain;  
For this high Subject will enrich his strain,  
And imp the proudest feather of his wing,  
That with the lark he may mount high and sing  
Even to the admiration of the choir,  
Suit but the Subject, and none can sing higher.   
FINIS.