Our eyes may here a Double Beauty find;  
His Face this shows, his Book presents his mind,  
Which a few Downey minutes have improved  
To such vast sums of worth, as makes him loved:  
And as this Shadow now appeareth. His,  
That likewise is Heavens Effigies.  J.S. W.M. fecit.  portrait   

PLANTAGENETS TRAGICAL STORY: OR, THE DEATH OF King EDWARD the Fourth: WITH The unnatural Voyage of Richard the Third, through the Red Sea of his Nephews innocent blood, to his usurped Crown.  
METAPHRASED BY T.W. Gent.  Prosperum Scelus virtus vocatur. Sen. 
LONDON, Printed by M. F. for Richard Tomlins at the Sun and Bible near Pit-corner. 1649.   

TO The truly heroic EDWARD BENLOWES. Esquire.  
SIR,  
COuld now my Fancies Engineer give fire  
To th' pleasing Trains of my select desire!  
I down would those unhallowed Altars turn  
Which to your Muses high devotion burn  
No thankful Incense; She triumphs o'er Sense,  
Vested in gold, bought on the brains expense.  
Most precious mind! who whilst unsalted heads  
Quite useless are for Camp, or Arts, or Beads,  
Nor aught will court but vice, and ignorance,  
Whose souls lie putrified in graves of Sense;  
While such on Riots dream; I you admire,  
Whom soul-entrancing Calentures inspire,  
Melting your brain in sprightly Raptures, when  
Infectious is the breath of Mushroom men.  
Teach, Sir, those mole-eyed Glow-worm's how to scan  
Blessed measures of the most accomplished Man.  
T. W.   

TO The Reader.  
Reader,  
I Love good company in my solitude, and have been sometimes taken up (with unraveling Times Bottom) amongst our English Chronographs, which I find chequered with such vanety of Actions, and events, as I cannot but admire His pencil, who draws his lines in the dark. Our Muses Ephemeris was properly calculated for the Meridian of those times, and can have but small influence upon these, being so many degrees distant from their Horizon. If She should be found guilty of any too light Airs, to grate upon a serious ear; non à pueris illico etc. may a little excuse; something there will be quod tempus amputet. I wish I may meet with no better genius, than the eyes, and hands of Candour, which will both fairly try, and freely pardon.  
Thine T.W.   

TO The Reader of the ensuing Poem, composed by his ingenious friend Captain T. W.  

REader; This Author tells thee he hath found  
A Gentile sport that's neither Hawk nor hound,  
Nor Gleek nor Maw. Here thou mayst quickly see  
A better Record of Gentility,  
Then a long Rowel, where a short five-pound fee  
Hath scratched one out a long-tailed Pedigree  
From Adam downward: Th' only, Record stood  
Not washed away with old Deucalion's flood.  
He knows no game but study-tables: there  
He spends his time: and needs no gamester fear  
Who walks in scarlet. This Historian Rhyme  
Is but the offal of his Second time;  
His very Recreation: What wouldst say,  
Mightst thou the works see of his serious day?  
The world is not at leisure now to read  
The Choice employments of his studious head.  
This is no wanton Pastoral to relate  
How much the Poets minds degenerate;  
For some such Antic baubles thou may'st find  
Whose Poems but betray their frothy mind,  
And only serve to let the Reader know  
How much the foolish Ape is sunk below  
A man: that modesty cannot control  
Him; but he must spew out his wanton soul.  
Poor low-born worms! that make it their design  
Of life to learn to dress their bodies fine,  
And throw their feet into such figures, as  
May tune the differing fashions of that face  
That's made the Devil's jailor for to keep  
Their souls close prisoners in a sinful sleep  
To th' great Assize. These female Apes will write  
(Sometimes) the dreams of their lascivious night, more time  
I'th' morning till their wantoness dress,  
Nor so much can they spare to make their Rhyme  
(Except by chance one night they get to bed  
Before the Wine hath seized their sottish head.)  
But being written and read over and over  
Before the Antic whom it doth adore,  
Abroad it comes, with the French fashioned face  
Of the Composer: (And a truer glass  
For the whole sensual beast there could not be  
To show his putrid minds deformity.)  
A laurel must his pictured carcase twine,  
'Tis but the Bush, to show the house of wine,  
In which he wholly dwells. 'Tis cut in Brass,  
To show the metal of the Poet's face,  
That studies sin, and blusheth not to tell  
The world, how deep his soul's engaged to hell.  
This must be dedicated unto one  
To whom he is debtor for a Virgin Zone.  
Reader! this Author's one that doth inherit  
(Without a forfeit yet) that noble spirit  
That is man's Birthright; One that in the least  
Is not inclining yet unto a Beast.  
One thing more let me tell thee (friend!) that he  
Near used to vomit out his poetry,  
he's no such heretic as holds none can  
Be Poet till he leave to be a man.  
This Madrigall's no catch. Here's not a line  
But is more essence of the Brain than wine.  
Read all, I'th' whole Context thou shalt not meet  
A verse but the Author could command his feet,  
When it was made, as well as thou dost now.  
By this time thou'rt inquisitive to know  
Who is this noble Author. He is one  
That is a man in his Perfection.  
Man in his All; he's one that needs not be  
Beholden to a piece of poetry.  
To Beg's Acquaintance with the world, his fame  
Cannot be heightened by his Printed name,  
A soldier and a Scholar. One that can  
Show thee what 'tis to be a Gentleman.   
I. C. Art. Mag.   

TO The happy Author of these Poems.  

NOr time has wrinkled with his aged plough  
The smoothness yet of your unforrowed brow;  
Nor Ages winter snowed upon your hairs  
The hoary flakes of youth consuming cares;  
Nor is the year confounded in your Pains  
To feel December in your April veins;  
Nor hath Dame nature planted on thy chin  
Agrove for Muses yet to winter in,  
Whose vernal shadows might delight the Graces  
To dance their measures in their courtly paces:  
Scarce nineteen springs had fortified thy limbs  
When Mars thee called from Muses sweet-tuned hymns  
Midst thundering of drums to lead his train,  
Till th' angry Sisters thy release did gain  
The trees forsake their Orpheus whilst he plays,  
Sweetly attracted by thy choicer lays,  
The stones will dance no more, but mortals be  
Persuaded to become like Niobe  
By thy Tragedick quill, whose power is  
Able to act a Metumorphosis.   
I. S. Lincolns-Innt. Gent.   

PLANTAGENETS Tragical Story.  
The first book.  

ON Mount Parnassus whilst I sit to sing  
Of various accents, from the Thespian spring,  
Mixed consort flows, the streams which by me slide,  
In silver waves their echoing notes divide:  
The laureate troops in circling rings sit down,  
Presenting to this History a Crown.  
Then cease delicious numbers to distil  
The sowr-sweet dainties of the Paphian hill,  
Nor blow in fond Poetic rage, that fire  
Which doth so wantonly lose breasts inspire;  
Nor Fetch Nile's Crocodiles dung to blanche the skin  
Of art-fair Madam, and her usher in:  
My wild Geography ne'er strayed so fare  
To bring Molucea flints to deck her ear.  
Dear Muse, disdain to squander out a toy  
With Erycina, or the winged Boy;  
Nor sportive infantine delights recall,  
But tune Love-sonnets to a Madrigal.  
Now must we dive unto th' Tartarean cell,  
Where gnawing Envy, and dire Treason dwell;  
Where conscience dreads in Soule-betraying weed  
The black attempts ambitious Statesmen breed;  
Where Plottings, turmoils, Tempests, horrid Fear  
Keep Ren-dez-vous in Albion's Hemisphere,  
As through each part they furiously do thunder,  
Candying th' Isles ghastly face in cie wonder;  
Where times black margin quotes such sad amazes,  
As makes heavens self pale with astonished gazes,  
Thick clouds which loured upon fourth Edward's head,  
The flaming ardours of his virtues spread;  

* The many Rebellions in the beginning of his reign, and sometime before.  A restless race (who ending still begun  
New broyss) gave place to this illustrious Sun;  
To show the odds 'twixt heavens etherial light,  
And gloomy fogs of Hell's Cimmerian night.  
The people (like the Polypus) doffeth hue  
To every object choosing always new;  
Princes are rocks, to which this beast is tied,  
Fettered with links of duty to abide;  
Let this care for him in their breasts be found,  
To give him colour, and still keep him bound.  
A furious brood of Fancy more than mad,  
Chameleon-like with every colour clad;  
Whose senseless sense (by brainsick humours led)  
Lies deep enchanted on Ambition's bed. 
Simile.   
Thus Neptune's subjects in the winter grow  
Cold in Alleg'ance, wont duties show  
But i'll respects, by th' Tyrant Frost detained,  
(The General of winter's forces) chained  
In icy shackles; easily made a prey  
To this encroaching Monster, till the day  
Farre-coasting Phoebus takes a nearer view  
Of this Usurper, forced with the crew  
Of's darts, and arrows for to quit the field,  
And to the Element its freedom yield.  
The winter's Bassa (mad to see this Rout)  
Calls from all Quarters his cold Troops about,  
In thunder-bearing dialect to devour  
The water's Prince by his united power;  
Winged with shrill trupet winds, flanked with keen puffs  
They justle so with mutual counterpuffs,  
Splitting themselves along the liquid plain,  
With dreadful terror to the groaning main.  
The winds, waves, Whales, Sharks, Dolphins, all retreat  
Whilst (clashing) their congealed armours break.  
The drunken Steel (which was at Wakefield roused)  
Oft reeled from field to field, and never housed;  
Then thundering Mars (the Females horrid dread)  
Did light this Islands Taper from his bed  
To Herford, Towton, Exham, Barnet grounds  
Were rank with noble blood: How many swoons  
Had fainting England in few years! To look  
On blushing pages of her Crimson book,  
Might rage's an earth quake in a British heart,  
Reading the Rubrics of his Country's smart.  
Some stirring Spirits, if not often won,  
And scoured by Favour, rust by Faction: 
Simile.   
●o Child-bigge wives and the green-sicknes maid  
Their natural Course restrained) are longing said  
To seed on chalk, and coals; This loves a slash  
Cut in the Brawn of her vexed husband's flesh;  
The other pines at Feasts, and leaving all  
Their wholesome cates, she junkets on a wall,  
They (phansy-sick of such a strange disease)  
Have feverish palates, still unapt to please.  
The Ship with wrack when tempest-waves did threat  
And restles-pity-wanting Storms had beat,  
(Th' Abysses jaws wide gaping to devour)  
Arrived at last to her long wished for Shoar.  
Cloud-masked Titan now with splendour cheers  
The winter Solstice of the people's tears;  
Fierceness relented, and stern Mars grew mild,  
Sweet Flora laughed, and Ceres was with child  
Of plenty; janus barred his Temple, gage,  
And Justice marched in her robe of State;  
Ruins risen up before this peaceful Star,  
And Venus' doves did build in Mars his Carr.  
Famed Edward, envies praise, whose wel-spread art  
By Keys of gentleness unlocked hearts,  
Stifles small factions by his wiser scorn,  
Which forced them to die so soon as born:  
He joys to see an Olive branch presage  
That civil bloods late deluge shall assuage.  
(Galled with wars yoke which did their shoulders vex)  
He lays sost Poultesse to his people's necks;  
That peace and plenty might espouse again,  
Kissing each other through his happy reign;  
Imperial virtue guildeth with her flashes  
Anoble temper on the coursest ashes,  
It sparkles bravely in a Subjects eye,  
But beams (Sunlike) incha c'd in Majesty,  
Diffusing light, and life to lesser fires,  
Each feels the warmth, and silently admires:  
So to the lower levels Zephyr comes, 
Simile,   
Puffing perfumes of rich Arabian gums  
From Spicy mountains, pleasingly to cheer  
The desert-scorched-tyring Traveller.  
Thus Bliss distilled the nectar of her breast,  
And lulled our Albion in a smiling rest; 
The blessings of Peace.   
No damned Assassinate awakes her sleep,  
Hearts joined with hands a mutual friendship keep,  
The Soldier leaves his winter-blasted bed  
For softer plumes, which crown his easy head:  
The rich caparisoned courser dreads no foes,  
But chaseth Foxes, or the lightfoot Does,  
Makes emulous starts for wagers on the plains,  
Thus he more honour, more attendance gains.  
Canons are charged with Musk, and marches turn  
To reveling Masks, for iron Tyssue's worn;  
In stead of Gunpowder, there now is got  
Powder of Cypress; Pistolets for shot.  
The Trumpet's made to sound a dance, and calls  
Away the storming siege from stony walls:  
With muzzled mouth the thundering Saker rests,  
And the Granades nothing break but jests.  
Now Love is Champion, who endures no arms  
But strict embraces, kisses for alarms,  
So plundering, by the eye, the heart away,  
Does by beleaguered Simprings win the day.  
Blunt foils atone sharp pointed Rapiers now;  
The pole-axe turns a coulter for the plough,  
To wrinkle-brow the Gleab; In comfort sing  
The feathered Choristers to the flowery Spring.  
Peace (breeding teeth apace) brings plenty too,  
Whilst golden-bearded ears the Syckle woe  
To ravish their Virginity, whose tops  
Do bend to fill the Swains barne-filling hopes:  
The full-stiffe-uddered Cow comes down the vale  
Twice every day to fill the milkmaid's pale;  
See Merchants Scours (swift gliding with the wind)  
Plough o'er the tradefull billows for to find  
An Ophir coast, with opulency fraught,  
The rarities from either Pole are brought  
To frame a delicate, to win the grace  
O'th' Empress Albion, whose moist arms embrace  
The Ocean's dowry: Each foreign Shoar presents  
The British Queen with choicest Ornaments.  
Thus by Love-tokens Ganges woos our Thame,  
Jndus to Severne would espouse her name.  
As if that GOD by thee (before accursed)  
Would show the World how 'twas created first.  
What though the sweatings of Arabian gums  
Embalm nigh Air with delications sums  
Of rich perfumes; if in those weeping groves  
Millions of Serpents haunt, and poison those  
(Inflecting torments upon every sense)  
Which glean that fragrant Balm, and Frankincense?  
Let th' Eastern Chinese think he grasps within  
The royal circuit of his vast paquin  
The quintessenced Good of all abode,  
As dreaming that beyond his countries road  
The World's a barren Fen, and nought can be  
Worth his vain labour in discovery:  
And yet how oft amongst them do they see,  
Huge balls of fire down bandied from the sky,  
To make such fearefulll ravage, as to choke  
Houses, and send up villages in smoke?  
Sometimes their Fountain veins (being broached) run  
Hurry'ing their Streams to inundation.  
But, England! Can these Savages repent,  
Thy blessings (sure) would make them all recant.  
Natures own self so doteth on thy love,  
Thinks thee the Diamond in the ring of Jove,  
Richly fed, coolly fanned, so nobly streamed,  
Wisely awed, bravely manned, so sweetly beamed;  
Thy pregnant soil wrought o'er with curious cost,  
With flowers embroid'red, and with woods embossed,  
With bushes purled, with streams of silver laced,  
Buttoned with Hills, with plaited valleys graced,  
Speaks thee a Tempe, or (as termed by some)  
A second Edon, or Elysium.   


* Alluding to the late unhappy wars in England.  O, be thy tender Bosom never wreathed  
By savage arms! why's not the Sword still sheathed  
Most barbarous, civil (most uncivil!) wars  
Make Britain bleed in most unnatural jars.  
Brave Gallants! Scorn that Rome's enchanted palm  
Should suck the sweatings of our sacred balm,  
Religion's oil, by Europe once admired  
More than those Gums from Gileads vales expired,  
Or for to have your bleeding entrails spelled  
B' Ignatius Wizards, whose strong charms upheld  
Saint Peter's rival in a colder sweat  
Then  the Goths, or Vandals could beget.  
Pluto, chain up this new pestif'rous Train,  
Let lowest Cells their blasphemies contain,  
Which now seem loosed from the Peruvian Stage  
To act their Butch'ries on the Crimson page  
Of British story, Slucing forth our blood  
By th' gushing torrent of a evil flood.  
These in the world have more confusion wrought,  
Then the old Tohu, Bobu could have brought.  
Medina, did we scape thy Crescent thus,  
That our own bow should be portentous?  
What strange Salmoneus or Prometheus taught  
Cyclopean Artists for to imitate  
The forge of jove, within his shops of wonder,  
By brasen-lunged, and fire-breathing thunder?  
What metal dev'lls, Angels of death are here,  
Like fiery Bulls of Colchos? Charon fear  
Th' o'ercharged Canoe; lank Ghosts by shoals do thus  
Float to the crowded shades of Erebus.  
The fierce-fire-foaming Steeds of Diomedes  
Feed on the remnants of Deucalion's seed:  
Does Typhon, and Echidna still survive  
To bring forth monsters? don't Medea live  
To charm this frightful proginy, and to fill  
New Constellations by her sacred skill?  
Whence is't our mines of iron spawned such tools  
For blood-drunk hands to hunt out guiltless souls?  
What Vulcan's here, that gives new life to steel?  
What Fury? what Erinnys makes a Hell  
In Albion's fields, carving men's bodies out  
To feast Megaera; whilst the dearbought shot  
Is paid by endless souls, which trembling fly  
From off the Lip into Eternity?   

Unhappy Island! whom Astrea shuns,  
Late made a prey unto thy hostile sons,  
Whilst they (like greedy Cannibals) devour  
Their mother's Offspring in a dismal hour  
Making her Lap, the Voider. han't we seen  
Some petty Cyclops late in Arms t' have been,  
Which little skill what GOD, Religion mean,  
Unless by this to swear, and that blaspheme;  
Oaths are their only Sacraments, their swords  
Their deity, and voucher of their words;  
The table for an Altar stands, the dishes  
They do account in stead of Sacrifices.  
Their march is swelled with pride, & when in Arms,  
They're even Barbarians, frighting with their harms  
The quivering peasants into sad belief,  
That they pass Attila the Scythian Chief,  
Knowing no difference in their lustful suit  
Twixt marr'ed, virgin, and the prostitute;  
Playing their gold with full hands, though it be  
men's blood exhausted for their Luxury.  
Lions which open their thunder-scaring jaws,  
Bulls goring through the entrails of the laws;  
Dogs worry one another, Viper's hiss,  
Men in their looks death-bearing Basilisks,  
Rearing their Trophies in the tear-swoln eyes  
Of Widows, and in Orphans Heav'n-pierced cries,  
Nought without Peace is holy. Unkind Fate,  
Opening Pandora's box within our State;  
Hope only stays, which we (fast closed) preserve  
As the best Cerecloth for a feeble nerve.  
Some gracious Dolphin now but yield his back  
To save Telemachus from final wrack;  
Then we (Ulysses-like) will not portray  
Him only on our gates, but every way  
The ardours of Triumphing hearts shall raise  
A never dying Pyramid to his praise:  
we'll imp his fame upon an airy wing,  
Beyond Bootës, and his Teem to sing;  
Nor that enough, but mounting higher yet,  
Shall Soar, till't be in the First mover Set.  
So, trembling Rome shall quit her Crowns for fear  
This second Hannibal is coming near;  
Which (after many an Age) from British Coast  
May fully avenge old Carthage angry Ghost.   

But sure, scared Muse, this Ghost has frighted thee  
To lose thy Subject in an Ecstasy!  
My Theame's unvealed now; Muse, smooth thy brows,  
And spend no longer on thy stock of woes;  
The Sun shall gild our Sphere, and Arms shall cease,  
And we will Triumph in a Hymn for Peace.  
No more dead corpse shall lard our soil again,  
Nor Wars make Mummy of the flesh of men;  
Discords shan't hail down blows, nor leaden showers  
Fright from embraces in our frolic bowers;  
England contemplate this, to ease thy grief;  
In field of bloody gules, a sword in chief  
No longer's borne, to charge with civil scars  
Her argent died in crimson Massacres:  
Where mutual fury swelling breasts invade,  
Thrilled by a Cozen-sword, or Brother-blade;  
Where Son with Father jousts; most horrid fuells  
Doth from one belly send up cursed duels.   

Edward now heard his smiling Fortune call,  
Come, climb my wheel, and ben't afraid to shall.  
His Sword which Northward went, returned home  
From scourging rudest Swains of Calydon,  
Now brandished is upon a French design;  
Rather to taste the  blood, than wine;  
And make their Flowrs-de-luce stand in awe  
Of being torn by th' English Lion's paw:  
Whilst that dissembling 
* Lewes the eleventh  Lewes tries his wits  
On idle toys, at which brave Honour spits.  
The eager hearted Subject, venturing stands  
Attentive, listening when the Prince commands;  
Feeling within his breast a vigorous heat,  
Causing his healthful Pulses for to beat  
A Call to this employment; tedious grown  
To hear of others acts and not his own.  
Proud valour leads the vanguard, in this strife  
Each would be foremost in the loss of life.  
Thus have I seen with Steel, 
Simile.  and Fury armed  
A gallant squadron, who their breasts had warmed  
With a full shout, to sing the Dirge of Foes,  
And scarce can stay till they have leave for blows.  
Brave Spirits! It were an Enemy's pride to die  
Under your shining Steel, 'twere Victory;  
If I must fall, give me the bravest hand  
To broach my breast, in all the Roman Band,  
So the same glorious Nard perfumes his blade,  
Sweetens my ashes in the lower shade.  
But what their boasting Fancy thought so sure,  
Sly-pilfting Death robbed in that instant hour.   

Vast joys are dangerous, throned in blisses prime,  
Fourth Edward finds the weights of his set time  
Not far from ground, & deaths sharp pangs invade  
His throbbing heart through every vein conveyed;  
She had before but some short Sallies made,  
Some Skirmish did his Fort of clay invade;  
But now lays downright siege, until it must  
(Shaken with Fever's battery) fall to dust.  
Thus all his warlike preparations turn  
Into the peaceful ashes of his Urn.  
'Tis safe to walk, as if we trod on ye,  
Upon the slippery world's prosperities;  
And always handling them like Crystal glass,  
Fearing they'll break i'th' lustre of their rays.  
So may you view the white-swelled sails advancing  
From Eastern Indieses, 
Simile.  o'th'Stately Vessel dancing  
On Thetis lap secure; eye-pleasing Calms  
Echo in consort with Melodious Shawms;  
The eare-art racted Dolphin nimbly hies,  
The sporting Purpose meets him, Proteus' fly's  
O'er Neptune's watery Bulworks, gently greeting  
The Merchant's pride, on English narrowes fleeting:  
The srollick Master spreads his Flag abroad  
In Triumph for the now seen English road;  
The Seamen now prepare their several Catches  
To satisfy with joy the blubbered Watches  
Of longing wives: The goblets swell with pride  
To pour a health unto each others Bride,  
But whilst they brag their lodestar shines most fair,  
Their cheated Hopes make Shipwreck on despair:  
Proud Neptune swells with rage, who smiled before,  
Haunted with Aeolus Furies from the shore;  
From Gulfs to mountains the mazed ship is hurted  
From thence again down to the deeps is worr'd;  
They cut the sails, unlade, but all in vain,  
To stay the infolence o'th' boiling Main;  
The pale complaining mariner kneeling lifts  
His hands, his eyes, employs his latest shifes,  
Still beating on his breast with crossed arms,  
In doleful sound strikes dreary deaths Alarms;  
With his salt tears brines the Seas saltness more,  
His sighs, with winds, force all her bowels roar,  
Till wrathful Neptune's uncontrolled lawer,  
Rushes the ship on Syll's devouring jaws.  
Fallen heavens Hell doubled: To be swallowed up,  
Ingeminates the woe, i'th' Cape of Hope.  
The Courtiers throbs move Edward to desire  
The borr'wing still of more life-quickening fire,  
Wishing sometimes his tender Sons unborn,  
Then from the breasts of his protection torn  
In their soft-blooming spring; Virtue i'th' bud  
May soon be blasted ere it spread abroad,  
Ere sharper fighted reason can descry  
The Traitorous nets, with masks of policy.   

Most fitly suits with a severer frown   

The glittering ardours of a sacred Crown.  
A cradled Sceptre speaks the Kingdom's sin,  
Hence mischiefs rock the Realm, Harpies within  
Do prey upon the Crowned babe, unmeet  
To chase such ravenous Praetors from his feet.  
The mountebank of State will now inspire  
His limbeck full of that ethereal fire  
Prometheus filched from Jove, resolved thereby  
Some rare extractions Chemical! to try,  
More gainful than that purse-corroding Stone,  
Wooed oft by sundry, wedded yet by none.  
Pyrenees on the Alps these Giant's heap,  
And cause mount Pelion upon Ossa leap,  
To mount the height of Sceptres: Envy stands  
Gnawing her chain by all the Nobles hands.  
Ambition breeds strange Tympanies; the law  
Goes under bail, fees them who keeped in awe.  
Poor martyred Client! I'm distracted to see  
That great men's sins are so revenged on thee,  
Thy goods, thy life, thy soul is punished,  
When thy seduced Leaders are misled.  
So some have heard Getulian lions roar  
O'er guiltless Lambs, 
Simile.  which (silent) stand before  
The King of beasts, and dare not quench, lest then  
They should be made repasture for his den.   

A Crown is envies Butt; each Pearle's an eye.  
Like those of Argus, the Cow-keeping-spie)  
Whose rays (like Titan's beams) around the world,  
From Centre, to Circumference are whirled.  
That (borne in nature) heavens so just decree  
Read in th' illustr'ous brow of Majesty;  
That (Atlas like) all great supporting birth,  
Speaks Kings no less than mighty Gods on earth.  
A vaunt then from this Cradle ye who curse  
The just Astrea, Princely Babies nurse;  
Hence Belknap, hence 
* Two corrupt Justices in the reign of Rich. the 2.  Trisilian, come not near  
To stisle Justice in the Prince's ear;  
Stand off bold Green, and Bushey, who by stealth  
Dare gain a Patent for the people's wealth,  
And farm no less than Kingdoms to beguile  
The needy widow, and the Orphan spoil:  
Hence 
* The too evil: counsellors of Edward the 2.  Spencer, Gaviston, no room for you  
To lead your sovereign by a wanton Clue:  
Fortune, usurp no more such lofty stages  
For vicious Scenes, lest thou in future ages  
Be'st termed a Goddess most unjust, and blind,  
To let Sin lead, and virtue lag behind.  
Keep off all Catholic Locusts from the Court,  
Which (like Torpedo) make't your only sport  
With pleasing Charms t'entice, secure, beguile  
The sleeping senses of the Crocodile,  
Whilst sly Ichneumon (the Italian rat)  
Eats throw the bowels both of Church, & State.  
Avaunt, lascivious Gallant, perfumed Sir,  
Of lust, and of thyself, Idolater:  
Thou compound of all Nations, Fashions, sins,  
Chief Lord of Antics, Prince of conjure;  
Strange moulds of nature, which confounds to tell  
Whether with Birds, or Beasts, or Men to dwell:  
No deity's acknowledged but the Face  
Of thy she Saint, nor no external grace  
That marts not in her Cheek; From Venus' eye  
He doth Astronomize. Love's winged Boy!  
Great Emperor of wreathed Arms! Go beck  
Some scorching Beldame for the neighing neck  
Of such luxurious Stallions. Where's the scars  
Of honour shown, fresh bleeding from the wars,  
For Kingdom's Fame? Perchance your musky skin  
Is bramble-scratched with your Lady's pin.  
Raise not 'gainst Princes ears your lustful charms,  
Impetuous shadows, whom no spirit warms:  
What Metamorphosis more wondered at  
Then for to see a King by you turned gnat!  
Whose mouth-spear goars fond blood, whose Trumpet-wing  
Sounds an Alarm to each trivial thing;  
As if wise Solomon should tune a jig,  
Or mighty Hercules go whip a gig.   

Such Comets, so malignant to a Nation,  
Are matter of our Edward's Reformation;  
Who (dying now) his wisdom does prepare  
To guard his Kingdom with a Trench of care:  
Such Oracles bequeathing (as its Fence)  
Gained to himself by grey experience:  
So, to the Seamen, 
Simile.  doth a Pilot lend  
His clew of reason, how their course to bend;  
When by the Lee shore, when to launch tothth' deep,  
When to cast Anchor, and the vessel keep  
From eating Silts, rocks, gulfs, and when to sail  
With a full gale, and when the top-faile veil.  
The pensive Lords, encircling round his bed,  
He draws the curtains which impaled his head,  
Which from his restless pillow his displaced,  
And thus began (having them all embraced.)   

" My Lords, Right trusty, and beloved Allies,  
" Behold the fainting Couch where Honour lies;  
" What cause, Ambition, for thee to be proud  
" Whose life's a Pilgrim to a silly !  
" Vainglory builds us Palaces of wind  
" Upon quicksilver founded, where we find  
" Like Sodom's fruits the Palms, and Laurels grow,  
" Which into ashes turn when we them woo  
" For solid touch. 'Twas wisest Solon's breath:  
" No man commenceth happy until death.  
" How truly may my meanest Subjects sing,  
" In Birth, in Air, in Death we match the King!  
" And after death who can distinction find  
" 'Twixt blended skulls of Swains, with Princes joined?  
" O, how our balls are tossed of quickened clay  
" Into a thousand hazards! Every day  
" Presents new Scenes to short spectators eyes,  
" Like Masquers vizards, Comic Tragedies.  
" I have the dawning, and the setting seen  
" Of some prodigious Comets, which have been  
" I'th' Firmament of States; which fiercely hurled  
" Firebrands, with blood commixed, about the world,  
" Whose proudest Items, to this total Sum  
" Only amounts, a dark three-cubit room!  
" I some of you have raised; as now y'are great  
" From me, to Mine be henceforth grateful; yet  
" If otherwise, plagues shall revenge the blot  
" Of Perjury; If Honour's Spring's damned up,  
" The borrowed streams so on must with ebbing dry  
" That flow your Channels now with dignity.  
" The Ancients limned the Grace's hand in hand,  
" Showing, no gift should unrequited stand:  
" Fare be it from a noble soul, to let  
" The thankful tribute of a benefit  
" Expect a Gaol deliv'ry, to enlarge  
" Th' ingenuous freedom of good nature's charge.  
" Death cancels my receipts; I leave my son  
" A King more by your love, then by his throne.  
" But what avails it, should ye love the King,  
" If 'mongst each other privy hatreds spring?  
" The greatest Ill, or Blessing of this Land,  
" Doth in your discord, or your concord stand.  
" Your civil jars, have caused uncivil rents,  
" Close not my reign with such bad Precedents.  
" How many bloody sweats, and deadly blows  
" Have rise about the colours in the Rose?  
" Giving no reason why those thousands bled,  
" But that this Rose was White, and that was Red:  
" Like as you see some Parents fond love  
" The Male children, 
Simile.  whenas the Females prove  
" The Mother's Idols; this 'cause't hath his nose,  
" The other that, because she doth suppose  
" It hath her gate, and speech; One house thus rears  
" Altar, 'gainst Altar, whilst the Father swears  
" That he her little Deity will not spare,  
" Unless the grudging mother incense bear  
" To his. Let Callets scold, and Pages draw,  
" Who cannot spell the sense of Honour's law  
" For one misplaced Comma, thinking better  
" Might have been left out one Essential letter:  
" They're Valour's Schismatics, which thus have vexed  
" With their base Comments such a noble Text.  
" Wash deep in Lethe. Come, let's all ascend  
" The hill of Pardons (joining hand in hand)  
" Lest worse Factions, by the postern gate,  
" Usurp the lofty Stories of the State.  
" Love seems to me that beauteous chain of gold,  
" Which doth the world in Courteous fetters hold;  
" How much more strictly that your hearts it ties,  
" The more 'twill fasten your Felicities.  
" Be tender how you cloud a morning Star,  
" Whose beams may long enrich your Hemisphere,  
" If no Cometick furious gleams withstand  
" Its blessed influence on this happy land.  
" Rome speak thy fainting fits under the hands  
" Of Caesar's Legions, meeting Pompey's Bands  
" Enraged with blood: Let Latium here define  
" The deadly feud o'th' Guelph, and Gibelline.  
" Expiring France had blood scarce left to write  
" Of Orleans Gall, and the Burgundian Spite.  
" The Grecian bears by his discording force  
" The desolate foot-prints of the Ottoman horse.  
" And where's that British heart, which hath not bled  
" By th' prickly Roses in our English bed?  
" Ah! factious Ambition is a field  
" Where th' Combatants are mad, & fury yield  
" Them Arms, the prize but Smoke, the full career  
" On glassy ice, whose utmost bounds appear  
" Steep Precipices! But deaths fatal cords  
" Pinion the licence of my halting words!  
" I faint, my Lords Farewell!   

He more would say  
When th' Angel came to fetch his soul away:  
Then rucking to his pillow, with fixed eyes  
(Which failed his sight) gazed on their rueful cries.  
The Peers joined hands in love, begged life's reprief;  
Th' Air echoed out (with Sympathy) their grief.  
Have you beheld bright Phoebus' Chariot whirled  
By fiery Steeds, to cheer the drooping world;  
The proud-topd Cedars with Shrub humble pile  
Are blest by th' influence of his radiant Smile;  
The Coloworts, and the Lettuce thrive as well  
As th' amorous Lily, or the Daffodell;  
Each stalk (whilst forth he stalks) to kiss his feet,  
Is proud with Pomp, and prodigal with sweet;  
All parts with Verdour doth his beauty crown  
From his ascending, to his going down:  
But whilst all do at upon his wished abode,  
Behold him gotten to th' Hesperian road;  
Now Hesper (ushering Luna) bids night shroud  
Sols frontlet, with an o'erspread sable cloud:  
The crest-faln Flowers hang their dejected tops  
Down heavy, pickled in their, dew-faln drops:  
heavens hanged with Blacks, as if it meant t'inter  
All Sublunarials in Sols sepulchre.   

So sets Plantagenet, who shined bright here,  
When our blessed Albion was his Hemisphere;  
Fig'ring his virtues on each Subjectsbrest,  
As Iris bears Sols image on her crest.  
he's set, and hushes all in blackest night,  
When (Persian-like) they most adored his light:  
Was not the Fatal Spinster something thrifty,  
To cut his thread, and make the knot at Fifty?  
When as the rare-spread Snow scarce showed it fall  
Upon his almost grizzled Capitol?  
Why might not it, with time, have whitened there?  
Too soon, ah; thawed it in each Subject's tear!  
Whose drops distilling from alembick eyes,  
Did in their Crystal mirrors Sympathise.  
Thou Coward Death, why mettest him not in field,  
Who made thy proudest Trophies there to yield?  
(Casting his Gauntlet down) did there outbrave  
Thee, than no Conq'rer, but a yielding slave;  
Whilst gallant feats did breed courageous strife,  
To try in doubtful jars a careless life:  
In those extremes thy ambushments were vain,  
His seething blood parboiled his flesh unslain;  
When He, in midst of ruins, there defied  
Hail-show'rs of iron, trampling on thy pride,  
As if he were immortal, or could cause  
Lives to spring up as plentiful as Bays;  
Then fare from him thou sneak'dst, & did admire;  
Swearing, he had no earth, but all was fire.   

Tymanthes, veil thy cunning here, t'impart  
Plantagenet to th' life, by thy weak Art:  
His Wisdom, Valour, Counsel did so flame,  
That, who the Concrete speaks profanes his name.  
As Statesman, view him first, and now conceit  
You see the Legates of each foreign State,  
Postilions flying with their winged speed,  
Their packets oped, Secretaries read,  
This King, i'th' midst, whole nights untired kept  
To rock the cradle, whilst his Subjects slept.   

If as a Soldier, from the Arms of's Nurse  
Behold him thrown into the forge of Mars;  
Suppose you saw the ranged Battles placed,  
A thorny wood of Pikes, with Shot enchased,  
And echoing Drums, with fired Volleys thunder,  
And dying groans which rend the Air in sunder;  
Then think you see this Prince, in Front, inspire  
Each Troop with his super-heroick fire.  
Cesar for warlike lessons might crowd in,  
(Wrapped like Alcides in th' impiercive skin  
Of high resolve) his tedious travels stand  
Like dwarves, and pygmies at his high Command.  
The Veni-vici, which was Caesar's word,  
But offal was to th' stomach of his sword.  
Count all the honours that Gustavus got,  
The bold Hungarian, or the Epirot;  
He them out-poizes with his Sterling soul,  
Though three such more should tug the other school.   

Now were my Muse in travel of such lines  
As Ovid minted, or those lofty Twins,  
Homer, and Virgil; and could soar as high  
As th' Empyreum of their Poetry,  
To wove for Edward's brows, now crowned with stars,  
A glorious Chaplet of Hexameters,  
With slow-paced Spondees, and quick Dactylls wove,  
Where curious Art, with acquaint invention strove;  
Should I pluck sprigs of Laurel from the brows  
Of all the Heroes, which their storehouse shows,  
And plant them here, to feel no month but May,  
Screening his Tomb with a whole Grove of Bay;  
Or here present you with a Captain bold,  
Backing a Steed, caparisoned with gold,  
His back apparelled in a glittering Coat  
Of Lightning, bearing Thunder in his throat;  
Where myriads of armed men reeruit  
His Legions, at the Stamping of his foot,  
Till music of the Drums, and Clarions meet  
To woe them to Battalia at his feet:  
And then an Eagles venturous pinion take,  
Circling the world through every Clime, and make  
Known to the Arctic, and Antarctic Pole,  
The influence of his diviner soul;  
Then say 'tis Edward; 'las! I should but strive,  
As foolish Actors in their plots contrive;  
Presenting on the Stage for to be seen,  
A goodly fellow, in a Lion's skin,  
Saying 'tis mighty Hercules, and dub  
His sinewy shoulders with a massy club,  
When all deride this goodly show at length,  
As but a Pygmy to Alcides' strength.  
If that be true the Pythagorean holds,  
The supposed transmigration of souls,  
Think those of Hector, and Achilles broke  
Forth from the relics of their dust, and spoke  
His highborn name; all gallant souls in him,  
Of bypast Heroes, held their Sanhedrim.  
Now, now the Grecian, and the Trojan Prince  
Repent their duel for that foolish wench,  
Wishing that they had let their Standards fall,  
To serve in pay so brave a General:  
Homer, and Virgil, shan't excuse their fate,  
(Although their Muse did supererogate)  
Which shall confine them unto Purgatory,  
Till they revive on earth to sing his Story.  
Now to sum up his Princely Courtesies;  
Conceive a thousand potent enemies,  
Not humbled low at his Triumphant feet,  
But freely by him at his table set,  
Nay, in the same Caroche, nay guests y'are led  
To see them smiling on the self same bed.  
In short, he was the best accomplished Lord  
That ever gained a Diadem by th' sword,  
If that a life so precious might have been  
Kept from corruption by his subjects brine;  
He had been ranked amongst the royal founders  
Of Britain's glory, in a wreath of wonders.  
One might in's Physiognomy have read  
A pleasing combat fought 'twixt love, and dread.  
Here's both the costly-furred Ermine Stole.  
And humble haircloth of a gentle soul.  
So like to Mars he was, in Arms, & love,  
Bellona 'nd Venus for his person strove;  
His love did banish, and Tourney with his eye,  
As quick, as lightning through the squad tons fly.  
Writers agree, this was his chiefest blot,  
He rather drunk, than sipp●● of pleasures pot  
His rolling eye oft strayed from being led  
By chaste, sweet lures to his more lawful bed.  
Charity ' instructs me that he would have mended  
His other faults, had not quick death prevented;  
God (where the deed, cannot itself be sent)  
Accepts the Proxy of a true Intent.  
Thus let him sleep, until the pow●rfull found  
Of th' great Tar-ran-tar-ra shall broach the ground,  
And dust (long crumbled from the sides of men)  
Shall find its scattered sands, and rally, then  
May England's Kings, awake their drowsy eyes  
Out of their cerecloth shrouds, and gently rise,  
To see the Three in One this Knight install  
With heavens bright Garter, and the golden Ball.   

Now would I take my work out of the Looms,  
Did not the piteous Fate of Edward's sons  
Add a fresh storm unto my blubbered Muse,  
And more sad Tides to my drenched quill infuse;  
Which lagging homewards, with a heavy cheer,  
From the Entombed Father's Sepulchre,  
Meets horrid 
* Richard Duke of Gloster, Brother to Edw. the 4. & after him usurping the Crown, by the name of Rich. the 3.  Gloucester's spectrum by the way  
With tyrrel's cursed Ghost! who, bid me stay,  
Whom, when I name, my Muse doth seek a shroud  
To hid her visage in a sable cloud.  
Yet will we chain these hellish Fiends in Rhymes,  
That whilst their names are read in after times,  
They both, on earth may in such torments live,  
As Stygian Furies underneath it give.  
Let Ignominy henceforth feise upon  
Their Persons, and with terror drag them down  
Into despair, commanding Hope to fly  
For ever, ever, to Eternity!   

Men, turned to Monsters, I shall bring to view;  
Such uncouth Births, as afric never knew:  
Eye-pois'ning Troops of Basilisks, brought o'er  
From Lybian deserts, tothth' Egyptian shore  
By foggy Auster, with a counter blast,  
Are hither sent, our Island to infest.  
Infernal Hags here furnish bloody feasts,  
Wolvish Lycaon, Lestrigon are guests;  
Carrousing cups of royal blood, brimful,  
Quaffing gore up in fierce Medusa's skull!  
The Throne is hearsed in black, and does appear  
Now, for th' Kings, soon, for the Prince's beer!  
Erinnys with swarth pinions brood's the seat  
Imperial; o'th' walls dire slaughters sweat:  
Death, bows his  over the Nobles heads,  
And with as Tragic paces proudly treads,  
As when he (in Commission) fought for pay  
Under Mezentius, or Caligula.   

Darest (thou false Duke) so soon betray thy trust,  
And blend thy faith with thy dead Brother's dust!  
unnatural Tyrant! should our land now see  
A Juncto of accursed saul's, like thee,  
The blood of us, their Vassals, would not last  
A draught, and all our flesh scarce break their fast.  
When thou, at Bosworth, shalt the earnest feel,  
Which vengeance will pour down from 
* Henry Earl of Richmond that stew K. Rich. at the battle of Bosworth & after obtained the Crown by the name of Houry the 7.  Richmond's steel;  
The petty sinks of People, then shall throw  
Thy Fame into the common Sewer; so  
To wreck thy Memory, in as deep a Shame  
As e'er was suffered from so high born name.  
Reproach thy shround, Hate shall thy Herald be,  
And blood thy Balm, thy Grave black Obliquy.    

To My truly Honoured Friend Mr D. W.  
SIr, I present you here with the offspring of a country Muse, and in a plain dress suitable. It is more than two years since the birth of this Poem, which I bred up for no other air but my Chamber window, had not the strive of some Friends wrested my will out of my hands: It now venter's abroad to give you a visit in your privacy; it is not waggish, but serious. Be pleased to lodge it in a warm room, with a Screen from the cold blasts of the Sons of Censure. The best argument I can plead for a kind reception, is that it comes from  
Sir Your faithful Servant T. W.   

PLANTAGENETS Tragical Story.  
The second book.  

NO sooner had the welcome Messenger  
Landed his news at th' port of Richard's ear;  
But he commands obedient tears to wet  
The glad-sad tidings of the sable sheet;  
Drops trickled down, as striving in a race  
To stide the soon off the Croc'diles face.  
The weather's foul, when moistened marbles drop.  
From flinty Richard's tears, expect a crop  
Of Mischieses." Fly! he cries, o Fury, fly!  
" Most ugly and illboding Mercury!  
" Let that Planet, which in thy birth did shine,  
" For c're be plucked from the wheel of Time!  
" Brother! This Orphan word is all that's left  
" To me, by cruel Fate yet unbereft!  
" O heavens, (if any heavens at all there be)  
" Serve all your Starry eyes this shame to see  
" Done to a Son of yours! An idl'effect  
" Has your all-whirling course! Let Swains erect  
" Fair Altars then unto your powers in Chief,  
" Which smile, or else are senseless at our grief!  
" Go strike some Hermit, Death! perhaps for that  
" Thou shalt be cursed of nothing but his Cat;  
" Or feed thy Glutton blade, thou foretopt Sire!  
" On those extracted out of base mire,  
" And from impurer Clay; thou meager Clown!  
" How darest thou be a Rival to the Crown?  
" For all our wealthy Sums of peace reposed,  
" And lodge in him, dost think that we'll be nosed  
" With dust? For life, whose active oil was spent  
" I'th' public Lamp, dost think we'll be content  
" Only, with brine-steeped eyes to speak him dead?  
" Or for the flourishing Laurels on his head,  
" With sullen Cypress? sure, such vast arrears  
" Life owed, for actions which out-paced his years,  
" As it (to save so long a times expense)  
" Hath now conspired with death to take him hence.  
" I'll send my soul up in a cloud of sighs,  
" From this imprisoned Chaos where it lies  
" Unto my Brother's Ghost to sacrifice.   

Thus far he roared in Ela, till this note,  
Muzzled below a Gammut in his throat;  
" Brother! Thy drowsy ashes I'll arrest,  
" And try if thou canst break the marble chest  
" Where I'll entomb thy dust; hoping to see  
" My rubs shall all be spurned away like thee:  
" I'll Crimson-dye the ground, and taste no wine  
" Pressed from the grape, but of the Orphan's brine;  
" And be the Leader to so bold a Fray,  
" The Giant's onset was but cudgel play;  
" I'll hamstring all the Sons of Men below,  
" And make, the world but upon crutches go.  
Reader! These words (when once thou knowest all)  
Thou'lt swear true Copy of th' Original;  
And though my Muse should her quotations miss  
In other Texts, yet that she's true in this.  
What Gloster was, I'll not forestall your eye,  
To give you here his brief Epitome,  
Since 'twill advantage much (if so you please,)  
To gain his Character by just degrees;  
Which to a wrinkle will describe the same,  
Without Hic Leo est, upon the Frame.  
Richard (who now had told the world he grieved)  
Glad most of all that he was so believed,  
(Beginning Night to make a heavy stay,  
Upon the eyelids of the drowsy Day)  
Gives now Command for all to seek repose,  
Since they so long had broiled their brains in woes,  
And thinks it time for him to still his cries,  
(Wiping those moistened Hypocrites, his eyes)  
When strait a Post (arriving thither late)  
Did strongly beat a Call o'th' Palace gate;  
Who (with a look, that seemed for to be  
Engendered ' twikt scorn, and fecrecie)  
Did tell the surly Porter that he came  
From his Duke Henry's Grace of 
* Hen: Stafford, Duke of Buckingham.  Buckingham:  
His Master's name bespoke the easy sense  
Of Gloucester's ear, now roused for audience,  
" Stout Stafford greets you well, and lets you know  
" In this new World he's pressed to follow you;  
" Taking such part, as bold atchiuments must,  
" Where danger only is the Feoff in trust  
" For Honour's Legacy: Disband your fears;  
" He can recruit you with a Thousand Spears,  
Now Lovel, Cat'sby, Ratcliff enters in,  
Whom sympathy of humours long did pin  
Upon his sleeve: He of whom Poets tell,  
That was designed to be Judge in Hell,  
Needed but in Commission, such a Three,  
To hold the devil's Gaole-delivery.  
This traitorous Juncto now thus closely set,  
Gloster gins to broach, what he had kept  
Under more keys, locked in his breasts abyss,  
Then Horace dame the strong Falernian juice.   

" My faithful souls! were you not known to be  
" Under the like aspects of Fate with me,  
" Never should my wound this day have taken air,  
" Lest I a Gangrene, or a Fever fear,  
" But rather (fast bound up) for to endure  
" Till time might bring a balsam for the cure.  
" A budding thought, yet ne'er my breast did bear,  
" Unless your bosoms did the blossoms wear,  
" Which makes me think this secret you'll inter,  
" Making your hearts the only Sepulchre.   

" How oft have you, and I repined to see O  
" The Kingdom swayed by such a milksop? He  
" More fit to Tilt, and Tourney with a Lass,  
" Or (whilst she spots Vermilion) hold the glass;  
" That beauteous 
* Jane Shoar the beloved Concubine of Edward the 4.  Shar, where he so oft arrived,  
" Can with her Oar, both Law and Justice guide,  
" The Judge is deaf-unto the Pleaders cry,  
" Be it enacted from her very eye.  
" So many nets, as gestures to ensnare  
" Affections, and with pleasing smiles to dare  
" All men to serve, her eye-beams could defray  
" A power not only for to press, but pay.  
" All Honours, Offices did stream from hence,  
" She blessed or blasted with her influence.  
" Ask me not why? he's but a Fool will prate,  
" Thinking on Reason to inoculate  
" The graffs of fancy; who to take pretends  
" Cloud-climbing heights of Prince's favours, stands  
" On equal monture with them, since their pleasure  
" Is th' only Jacob staff by which they measure.  
" Shall Harlot's Fillets bind on Prince's Crowns,  
" And Statute Law phylacterize their Gowns?  
" Cease Students then, on many prints to look,  
" For Shores fair face was made your stature book  
" Brave sport, my friends, to see a King thus led,  
" To sport men out of thousands in his bed,  
" Some gallant Trophies did his reign ,  
" But all the Laurel's maystned with our sweat;  
" The quill was dipped i'th' Standish of my wounds,  
" That wrote th' Indentures of his purchas derowns;  
" I clipped great 
* Rich: Nevil, or Make-King, Earl of Warwick, greatly beloved of the commons in those days.  Warwick's high-aspiring wings,  
" Who thought it less to be, then set up Kings.  
" Now let your thoughts resent well our affairs,  
" On which depends our hopes, and of our Heirs:  
" For to install us with the people's love,  
" Some of the Serpent needs; as well's the Dove;  
" First 'twill do well to cast some oil i'th' fire  
" Of that fast rooted, unappeased ire,  
" Long bred between us of Plantagenets line,  
" And the Queen's upstart Lordlings of her Kin;  
" Thus having tutored well our passions, so  
" That whilst each part shall challengeout his Foe,  
" we'll lay the capstone where we mean to build,  
" And rear our Trophies in the blood that's spilled.  
" Then shall not rub once boldly dare to peep,  
" When we're disposed the Alley for the sweep:  
" Like as Mower, when he barbs the meads,  
" (If any surly Bends perk up their heads)  
" Fodders his  (as he along doth pass)  
" In the soft entrails of the withring grass.   

" I bind you fast by Styx, conceal our ends;  
" Hearts are the Midwives at the birth of friends:  
" And thus (we having jointed close before  
" The several rifts, and chinks of every door)  
" No glimmering spark of light shall steal an eye,  
" To light a candle at discovery.  
" Who so will draw a Map of our design,  
" Must perry wigge our Plottings over fine  
" With some false hair, that Lynceus may not spy  
" Our callow projects with a naked eye;  
" Lest (like unfeath'red Owls) we be a scorn  
" Unto the world, as soons the day is born.   

Ludlow (now famed for the young Prince's court  
At the death of's Sire) hither did resort  
The Queens two sons, which noble Grey begat,  
(As first Incumbent) ere Plantagenet  
Had the Advowson, who did hold from thence  
Alliance (by Smock-tenure) of the Prince:  
The valiant Scales, 
Anthony Woodvile Lord Rivers, Brother to the Queen  Woodvile, who steered the Barge  
Of England's hopes, and kept the royal charge.  
Each blood, as nearest to the Queen, did stand  
To latch a smile, next by the Prince's hand.   

Gloster (snatching the foretop of the time)  
Lodgeth the guests of his contrived design  
At Hastings envious brow, which he resents  
Hanging out open signs of discontents  
Against the Queen's advancement of her race,  
Whose graves, revenge so digged in his face,  
That by the very Index of his look,  
You might peruse his heart without the book.  
Who of man's little World takes best survey,  
Much Ter-del-fugo, and Incognita  
Will still remain, to a judicious eye  
Unnat'ralized, until discovery.  
Richard so froward was, you'd think he'd been  
A breeding teeth; had not his gums been seen  
Armed from his birth-lay a although Nature was  
Herein no Bungler, but a Prophetess:  
Sin's like a Monster, 
Arist.  which is seldom borne  
But by some swelling, or excess of form.  
(His passion now unto a frenzy boiled)  
Himself of all suspect he thus assoiled.   

" Can such a thing (My Lords) as this be true,  
" Our royal Falcon should be kept in Mew,  
" Sequestered from out duty, and our care,  
" Having (as we deserve) so joint a share?  
" Shall we extracted from the loins of Kings,  
" Be overtopped by such Mushrnme things?  
" Woodvile, and Scales shan't Kinged, whilst in my veins  
" A drop of true Plantagenet remains;  
" Whose highway Trefoil (save the King's dispose)  
" Was far unmeet to posy with his Rose.  
" I've read of Serpents which in winter lie  
" As dead, curled up in their i'll livery,  
" But when the Sun lies warm-upon their heads,  
" They cast out poison from their mossy beds.   

Thus Envies flints, joined to ambitious steels,  
Begat seditious sparks, which Stafford feels  
Alone, till Hastings kindled, who had been  
Made by Fourth Edward his high Chamberlain:  
Two haughty Peers, oft clashing inter se,  
Yet in eodem tertio did agree;  
Saying 'twas time now for the Prince to stand,  
Changing his Wothers' Knee, for's Father's Hand,  
And lean upon those ancient props, which stood  
As Staddits', when the rest were underwood  
And could not heathfull be until he let  
Out Greyes gross blood, from pure Plautagevet,  
To stop some dangerous fever, which oft reigns  
From such unnatural conflicts in the reins.  
His Father's blood had been so long a broach  
It now tan dregs, and shortly must approach  
Unto a tilt, should they neglect their best  
Endeavours for to give't its pristine taste.   

The Prince is now a double Orphan left,  
As well of Father, as of friends bereft,  
Weaned from those teats, where he should suck advice,  
Bittered with false reproach and calumnies;  
Some Knights o'th' Post (to still the people noise)  
Dubbed by Hell, did offer to depose  
A Plot; How easily Power can make defence  
(Having such Verbs fitted for every Tense!)  
Wither it was blind Fates enforcing law  
These guiltless Lords under the Praetors pawt  
Did bring; and that all-turning wheel,  
Which by a cursed experience makes us feel,  
No State hath footing in this mortal strife,  
On th'icy down hills of a slippy life;  
But so it was, the Prince of them deprived,  
And they of life, when they at Pomfrei died:  
Thus glorious Sun-allied Stars (of late)  
Are joustled headlong from the brow of State,  
Whilst basest dust, (winde-wafted with the time)  
Advance itself, and to a Mercour climb.  
Should death make choice but of an innocents' face  
('Twould ne'er affright us) for his Looking glass:  
It needs must angelize a face to see  
How they become their dress of mifery.  
Blaz'ning the Coat of Suffering, which doth yield  
A patiented Rampant, in a smiling Field;  
Where death is vanquished, whilst they give him terms  
To come to composition in their Arms.   

Now, now, gins the springtyde of a tear,  
Where eyes the best of Rhetoricians are.  
You admirable teare-eternizers,  
Come and adopt our subject, make it yours!  
O, come, and give a grief-bunged soul a vent,  
Teaching our woeful numbers to lament!  
Our infant Prince (scarce yet to th'navel born)  
Casting his bleeding eye on so forborn  
A state of things (crying) shrinks in again  
His head, as loath of such a troublous reign.  
If cruel nature needs must thrust him forth,  
Though scarce to see, yet to be seen on earth;  
(In stead of dandling Byoes') I espy  
The cradle thrown b'a roaring Lullaby.  
Unnatural tempests, by ambition driven,  
Beat through the crannies of his neat-to heaven  
Sacred dormitory; Satyrs dance round,  
Hell runs at Batly-brick o'er facred ground.   

Gloster thus (closely digging of his Mine  
To blow up all his brother Edward's line,  
And conj'ring Hell, exactly how to set  
His snares, (made by the Masks of Nimrods' net)  
We'll leave upon his march to th'royal City,  
To view an Object may deserve your pity,  
The Mother Queen, who ne'er had wiped her eyes,  
Or once enjoyed a Sabbath from her sighs,  
Since flinty Fate carved out so sowt a cross  
As loving wives taste in a husband's loss.  
No quiet Shore she finds, no harbour near,  
(Tossed on sorrow's surges here, and there)  
And (weighing anchor in so dark a night)  
She of Cape-comfort wholly lost the sight.  
Sols fairest Grandchild Light, now roused his head  
From's Eastern pillow (than newly wakened  
By's hasty Sire) and quickly getting up,  
He sets his fresh Cerulean casements open;  
Through which the Sun doth throw a morning smile  
Into her lap, so thinking to beguile  
With his rays Maidenhead her grief-sieged eyes,  
To give up all her tears in hostages.  
Her maids of Honour (with dishevelled tresses)  
Are some employed to sort out mourning dresses,  
Others, make Civet water for her hands,  
Which in a golden basin trembling stands,  
Afraid to touch their Snow, till first it be  
Washed itself from all impurity:  
She sometimes shows herself unto her glass,  
T'instruct her eyes what weather's in her face,  
(For 'tis agreed that Female Almanac  
Can show the Signs in beauty's Zodiac:  
When (fastening to his feet his light-winged plumes)  
God Mercury with heavy tidings comes,  
Making no stay, until arrived at  
(Arresting with his rod) the palace gate;  
And (brought within the ear-reach of the Queen)  
Gives her a blunt account of what had been  
At Pomfret: how those noble Lords allied  
Unto her Highness' self were double died  
With paper Treason, forged by Richard's power,  
And daily looking for their latest hour,  
Being so Planet-stricken with the frown  
Of the two Dukes, 'tis thought they'll never own  
Themselves: and further adds for truth, that they  
Were marching thither armed in brave array,  
The empiric was, the Prince should meet the crown,  
But (ended brief) the Grammar was her own.  
She heard him out, like as a prisoner  
(Standing with trembling fear at th' dreadful bar)  
Doth hear his gibbet-sentence; every word  
Of all this woeful Climax was a sword,  
And (grinding in her breast a heart-deep groan)  
She backward falleth in a frightful swoon,  
The roses shrink under their beds of snow,  
And dare not on her cheeks be seen to grow:  
How often did her Lady's screiches pray  
The fainting powers of her soul to stay!  
Calling on her deceased husband's name,  
And oft repeating it again, again;  
They first perceive the Lily, and the Rose  
To make faint combats in her lips, and nose;  
As if sh' had only this desired of death,  
To speak his name but with her latest breath.  
At length (when she her Twins of light unsealed)  
In accents like to these herself revealed.   

" Who so will draw a Map of Misery,  
" Need fancy no more wretched Plot than I;  
" Whos's speechless wound (to all the standers by)  
" May ransom Pain from an Hyperbole:  
" Great griefs within no certain limits fall,  
" But who once nameth me, he speaketh all.  
" Good fortune is not always bound to pay  
" Homage to greatness, or to pave the way  
" Of Queens with Flowrs-de-luce; now I see  
" The safest Tenures not in Capite;  
" Our golden couches are as often torn  
" With strong Convulsions, and our pallets worn  
" With shaking Fevers, as the beds of straw;  
" There's all to one alike impartial law.  
" You pleasant Milkmaids (which each morning pass  
" Over the Virgin dew, and pearled grass)  
" Can sweetly sing by day, and sound sleep  
" At night, having the privilege to keep  
" Your wise affections for a homely bed,  
" 'Tis you that know contentment when you wed;  
" When I (not having liberty to choose,  
" Nor leave a royal Suitor to refuse)  
" Am now compelled a Sacrifice to prove  
" To th' politic ends of my unhappy love.  
" When * Grey the title of a Lady lent  
" (Distant alike from Envy, 
Sir John Grey the Queen's first husband stain in the battle of St Albon in defence of the house of Lancaster.  and Contempt)  
" Security, and sweetness seemed to dwell  
" Together with me in my humble Cell:  
" What my bed wanted towards stately pride,  
" Was by the soundness of my sleep supplied.  
" Alas my tender Orphans! shall you be  
" So timely taught the trade of misery!  
" With hopes, and wishes is my heart ,  
" The hunger of the wretched, and their meat.  
And here breaks off; saying, she will not tarry,  
Bidding them all pack up for Sanctuary.   

Conceive a Country harras'd with an host  
Of soldiers, 
Simile.  landing on a peaceful Coast,  
Where deafening Drums, and Trumpets fright the Shoar,  
And neighing horses through the welkin roar:  
The swaddled suckling (spying death at's back)  
Nusles his head within his mother's neck;  
And spotless Virgins to their lusts must pay  
The shameful Tribute of their blooming May;  
There may you see the breathless Villager  
Lugging his Barns to some good town that's near,  
The mother screiching, whilst bedabbled Lambs  
(Bleating) pursue their bowells-yerning Dams.  
Ha'ye seen the Front'ers of some fertile Tract  
Exposed thus to th' Victor's slaughter sack,  
All in distracted hurries to convey  
Their goods from bloody hands, with hunt the prey;  
Each house swept clean, before the night comes on,  
The Countries ransacked, to enrich the Town?  
Then may you fancy (in a turn of th' hand)  
How the Queen's servants all divided stand  
Twixt heaviness, rumble, hast of such as carry  
Her Trunks, chests, fardels into Sanctuary.  
One strips the Liv'ry of its golden Fleece,  
Another snatcheth down the pride of Greece,  
The Arras hang from the ghastly walls,  
(Now set about with nought but spider's cauls)  
Mean while, she in a gold-seiled Cabinet  
Her choicest, orient, pricefull Jewels shut,  
Which (bearing in her arm) away she hies  
With little York, which was her dearest prize. 
Simile.   
So will a fearful Partridge (close pursued  
By some quick bird of prey) make haste to shroud  
Itself in some thick covert: tossed ships fly  
The Ocean's rage, and in safe harbour lie.  
But even hither seemed there for to peep  
A ray of Comfort started out of sleep,  
I mean the 
* Doctor Rotheram, Archbishop of York, and Keeper of the Scale.  Chanc'lor, who was known  
to be  
As high in virtue, as nobility.  
(Her back bowed under care, and sorrow's wallet)  
He finds her couchant on an humble pallet;  
Her downcast head unto her knees she lent,  
(Curled altogether up in discontent)  
Making with her pearl-pointed fingers fair  
Most piteous havoc in her golden hair:  
Her hair, which careless hung about her ears,  
And only served her for to dry her tears:  
Her tears, which from her red-swoln eyes did flow  
Faster than rivers from their fountains go:  
Her breast did heave, as if her heartstrings strained,  
Each part did show the sorrows it sustained;  
Only her tongue (her troubles were so many)  
Found want of words how for to utter any;  
But by her face, and gesture was expressed  
The lively Image of a soul distressed.  
O Pomfret, Pomfret, was lay next her heart,  
Which like a gnawing Vulture seemed to dart  
A thorn through every vein: Light griefs can speak,  
When greater with astonished silence break,  
The heart in twain: small brooks run prattling by,  
When rivers glide with peaceful Majesty.  
She (like a widow Turtle, having lost  
Her ma●e, her Joy, by God, and Nature crossed)  
Under her wings brooding her young unfledge,  
In mournful lays she sings a doleful dirge.  
Count but the leaves that fall, who ever sees  
Novembers Foosts unperriwigge the trees,  
Or the thick drops upon the stronging ears  
Of yellow Ceres, (ere her looks she shears)  
Score up the daisies Maia's bosom wears,  
Then give the sum, and number up her tears,  
Which (she so largely spending) seemed to dry  
Her whilom beauties to Anatomy.   

Scarce could the lumpish Prelate here refrain  
To pay his brooks of tributary brine  
Unto her sorrow's Sea, and tune his eyes  
To her distractions, keeping Time with sighs;  
So fare Affection did command in Chief  
By loving Sympathies t' espouse her grief:  
Until his Reason did forbid the Bands,  
And thus he spoke (whilst still they joined hands.)   

" Why (Madam) should I see those twin-stars lowr  
" On the Cheeks coral in a needless shower,  
" Through moistened casements of those crystal Shops,  
" As if retailing out your eyes by drops?  
" 'Tis Fortune's Music, she enjoys a feast  
" To hear thick sobs harsh tuned in your breast;  
" Believe me (Lady) 'tis the noblest part  
" Of your Revenge, to slight not feel the smart.  
" Heaven gives you crosses (like sharp sauce) to whet  
" For some choice banquet your dull appetite,  
" The darker now your cloud-benighted brow,  
" Your Paradise will sweeter Prospects show:  
" Doff, doff that sullen Muffler! Can I find  
" A thought were black enough to be unkind  
" In all my soul to you, I'd purge my breast,  
" To void the Traitor from amongst the rest.  
" Each subject's shoulder bears your Grace's cross,  
" This Isle an Orphan by your husband's loss:  
" If thousands of such useless lives as mine  
" For death's too stern Arrest, could have put in  
" Sufficient Bail, you had this moment seen  
" Your self a glorious, and a happy Queen:  
" But our unhallowed Votes (when at the best)  
" Smell less of incense, then of Interest.  
" If England's crown shall shine on other brow  
" Than of your Princely son, we the morrow  
" Will take Yorks Duke, & (in his father's stead)  
" we'll pour the ruling oil upon his head.  
" How e'er it be (Madam) suspend your ruth  
" Till Time's deliv'red of her daughter Truth.  
And so they part (anch'ring their hands together)  
Whilst She replies, My Lord, y'are welcome hither.   

Thus courteous trunks of trees I've often seen  
Upon the the margin of a Stream, 
Simile.  to lean  
Forward with proffered boughs, with pity moved  
To reach the Sinker from the swelling flood:  
When Hercules met Theseus' face to face,  
Or Nisus did Euryalus embrace,  
But hatred was, to see this woeful Queen,  
(Which long in sorrow's lowest shades had been)  
Embrace this Star of Comfort; but 'tis gone  
With him, before She knew She was alone:   

Like as a dying Tapers sickly beams, 
Simile.   
(Concealing in a Socket all its streams  
Of light) now gives a glimmering flash, or two,  
Then all in darkness: so her comforts do.  
(Sol having drawn the Conrtains of the Night,)  
To what her ears had heard, her eyes did plight  
Their faith, looking (yet but early season)  
Saw many Boats fraught full of Gloucester's Treason,  
Whose guilty Oars did pollute the Stream,  
And wound the curled breast of silver Thame,  
As if (by th' Earth, and air before) they meant  
T'infest with poison every Element.  
Now was a Legate from grim Pluto sent  
(Attended with a sooty Regiment)  
To Richard's Court; who (when arrived) did tell  
That never was a place so like to Hell,  
Desired his speed in's enterprise begun,  
And proffered all the powers of Acheron,  
Gloster employeth Hastings (for his parts)  
To get him quarters in the people's hearts,  
(He being so il-tuned an Instrument,  
The Music of his soul could find no vent.)  
He humbly prays them for to take advice,  
Listening to prudence not to prejudice;  
That so (all murmurings hushed, and laid asleep)  
(Fast tied in knots of duty) they might keep  
Th' approaching festival in garb of State  
The Dukes were marching for to celebrate;  
And something more he puts into their Creed,  
Of which himself more doubted, then believed.   

The discontented devil conjured down,  
The Duke approaches, with the King to Town;  
Who plays so well that day the Subjects part,  
As if he'd shifted both his face, and heart,  
And well might set his Pillars up, to be  
A Non plus ultra to hypocrisy;  
He throws his hat off at the People's ring,  
And gladly echoes to God save the King,  
Which proves that true, which I before did doubt,  
The Traitor speaketh, when his heart is out.  
This very act did seem to set him up  
With so full stock in Reputations Shop,  
As he obtained his Grace for to Commence  
Chief Lord Protector to the Orphan Prince;  
And now his credit's good to run a score  
In horrid murders, not accounted for.   

Who but some Sat'rick Iuv'nall, dares provoke  
Crimes in a Diadem dressed, or Tyrian cloak?  
There is a Bird by th' Ancients called the Just,  
Because she hides her Excrements i'th' dust:  
A good example (great men) for to shroud  
Your ill deportments under a dark Cloud  
Of close concealment, rather than that you  
Expose your Vices to a Public view;  
'Tis you, whose mountainous Aspect outvies  
The humble Valleys, whose high-towring eyes  
Can see the callow Politics in their nest,  
(Which yet are Vulgar wonders when they're dressed)  
Be mountains of Perfume, whose fragrant brow  
No snare-intrapping Nimrod ever knew;  
Be Phar's, whilst we these Zanclian straits survey,  
And with your friendly light direct our way.   

Thus far was Richard's Canvas well employed  
With prosperous gales, and even so overcloyed  
With Fortune's smiles, as should an Atheist see,  
he'd argue from't against the Deity:  
His saylsnow swelled with hopes of England's throan  
He rows in blood, the Boat-swains wait upon  
His fortune, boasting 'bove Columbus Train  
(Inning their golden Harvest o'er the Main;)  
Knowing in black designs, to snatch the Oar  
Of Confidence, is half way to the Shore.  
There never wants (when States are deadly sick)  
Some needy Quack, or faithless Empiric,  
To try his mad Receipts; whilst nature fight,  
He sees the groaning issue with delight.   

Now Gloster's fit to drink his judas cup,  
But one Ingredient lacks to make it up;  
The Lion yet hath got but half his prey,  
One tender lamb the mother hides away,  
As knowing well, who to his savage Den  
Doth once set footing, ne'er returns again.  
He therefore (ere he means to Storm the Crown)  
First plants his Batteries, for to thunder down  
The Queen's retreat, whose privileged defence  
By sacred right, (entrenched with innocence)  
Was held impregnable: the faithful Peers  
(Most loyal to herself) for Engineers  
He calleth out, the Chancelour's the chief  
O'er these; then draws out a Relief  
(If these should be repulsed) of harder temper,  
Who for to scale the walls dare climb th' adventur,  
And 'spite of Heaven to ' achieve an Action,  
Which th' old Giants would have thought presumption:  
The man designed for to command o'er them  
Must be the marblehearted Buckingham.   

The Chancellors fast love to Edward's line  
Was overwitted by this smooth design;  
As strangers (riding in a road unknown)  
Fellow the beaten Track to such a Town; 
Simile.   
So he (unskilled i'th' Knack of Policy)  
Steers by the Pole-sttar of the Company:  
So some corrupted Villian, 
Simile.  (who hath sold  
His soul, his Country, and his Faith for gold)  
Leads his commanded Files to blood, which spilt  
Stains Swords with gore, but not their hearts with guilt.  
Unhappy Lord! Thy like I scarce can read,  
Whose Faith was good, and yet corrupt in's Creed.  
The Queen (long starved from joys) doth now begin  
To surfeit on a welcome dish come in,  
I mean the Bishop (flanked with other Lords)  
For to bespeak her Grace in these like words.  
That she, and York march out, and not to tarry,  
But quit the hold they kept in Sanctuary;  
Fair Quarter then at Gloucester's hands her Grace  
Might well expect, if not, he●'d Storm the place.  
Seduced Paper-Worm! Hadst thou read Men,  
As long as poured on Books, false Richard then  
Can ne'er (pretending for to open thine eyes)  
Have led thee by the nose to play his prize.  
This message struck the ears of th' wondering Queen  
With such heart-cleaving sounds as is't had been  
Some silent midnight knell, alarming souls  
To high to lips, when once grim Death controls  
Delay; as if that he (she senseless stood)  
'Twixt soul, and body had the Banes forbade;  
Courted at last unto herself (though long)  
She this Reply contracted to her Tongue.   

" Who in a storm weighs Anchor, seems to court  
" His shipwreck, & deserves to miss the Port.  
" Say, Nature, say! If when the Bird new springs,  
" There be a heat more cher'shing then the wings  
" Of its own mother: I shall dread some harms,  
" Till they are both impaled within my arms;  
" Had I my Child within these walls alone,  
" I'd think him more secure than on a Throne;  
" The Duke is ill at ease, and now in Bed,  
" Rather amended, then recovered,  
" And often I have heard Physicians speak,  
" Relapses threaten danger to the weak:  
" If nature (routed at the first) doth yield,  
" At th' second Charge of force must quit the field.  
" Afflict not nature in a widows cry,  
" To steal poor Orphans from her Treasury!   

" Madam (he strait replies) on you must fall  
" This blame, 'tis you that are unnatural,  
" In choosing for to be so much a mother  
" Unto the one, that you despise the other.  
" Although he cannot in your arms miscarry,  
" Yet 'tis not meet he should keep Sanctuary;  
" How harshly doth it sound i'th' people's lips!  
" It cannot but the rising Sun eclipse,  
" As if the Turkish bowstring were a sport  
" Would grow in fashion now in England's court.  
" He hath not sin enough to understand  
" This place, (which only shields from Justice hand  
" If you be so resolved t' abide here still,  
" (Rather than overcome a Woman's will)  
" Their joint consent is to enfranchize him,  
" Who hath no will to ask, nor yet a Crime  
" To need it; such great love his Uncle bears,  
" Lest you convey him hence through causlss fears  
" Ah (quoth the Queen) how fond is Gloster grown  
" Of late, to be so tender of my son!  
" A riddle, how that wretch can prompt his good,  
" Whose hands now reeketh with his Kindred's blood.  
" Some say no grass could ever yet take root  
" Where once the Ottoman horse but set his foot:  
" 'Tis here as true; where ever Gloster wend,  
" Rapes, blood, and death his ghastly steps attend,  
" My son deserves no Sanctuary you say,  
" And 'tis no Breach to take him hence away,  
" A goodly gloss! where Thiefs may find defence  
" Too narrow's made to shelter innocence.  
" But little Ned doth lack a playfellow;  
" Can England's Court no merry wags allow  
" To stroke his humour? Fie! Avaunt for shame!  
" A deep Conclusion, but a trifling Theme:  
" Can it be thought a Prince so young in years  
" Will play with none, but such as are his Peers?  
" But the child asks it not; who told him so?  
" Move him, and try, or if he answer no,  
" If I but claim this Privilege for me,  
" My goods, as well's my Person shall be free;  
" My horse from hence may not be ta'en away,  
" As is it then no breach of Sanctuary  
" To take my Child? Nay, is he not my Ward?  
" And our just laws do make me of his guard,  
" As learned council say? h'as no demeanour  
" Held by Knight's service, but in Soccage tenure:  
" The Law commits him to my custody,  
" I ask it for him, since it makes not me  
" A Guardian for his goods without the care  
" Of's Person: By nature's law mothers are  
" To keep their Children; by the law of man  
" The Infant's feoft upon his Guardian,  
" And Gods law gives this place protection,  
" And may not all these privilege my son?  
" No Jury need b'impannelled on the cause  
" Of these my fears, if you peruse the laws:  
" Gold crowns are brave-ambition-tempting tools,  
" Most men bewitching, if not Saints, or Fools.  
" I wonder much (my Lord) what heat of lust  
" In you to Gloucester's service, makes your Trust  
" A Bawd to these employments; and even tied  
" To Pimp it thus to Richard's wanton pride,  
" Forgetting Edward's favours ere he have  
" Scarce taken Livery, 'nd seisin of his grave!  
" I say no more, but he that dares profane  
" This places sacred rites, and honoured name,  
" God send him need protection here to crave,  
" And than deny him that which he would have.   

He thinks it now but vain to reinforce  
His routed Arguments; bids take her course,  
He meant to draw off his Artillery,  
No more t' attempt a female Battery;  
But offers up his Faith in hostage to her  
To gain consent in what he meant to woe her:  
" If she would freight the Vessel of his care  
" But with a prize so rich, he would not fear  
" To put in Bond against a Wrack, and free  
" Her thoughts from cheating dreams of Piracy;  
" If still her negatives should cloy his suit,  
" he'd wave his errand, and for  be mute.   

Hereat the Queen such swelling sighs disgorge  
As if that Vulcan knocked on the forge  
Of her breast, with such astonishing blows  
As the Sicilian hairs in Aetna's Throws;  
Rivers of tears came springing from her heart,  
Ascending to her head did there impart  
A doleful moisture, whose high floods did rise  
To flow the swelling channels of her eyes.  
But She (not knowing longer to secure  
Her tender Child from force of Richard's power)  
At length bestows him on their zealous prayer,  
So to oblige (if not command) their care;  
Because he's trusted, to be trusty binds  
A noble nature; jealousy inclines  
To be dishonest; Faith affords a Spell  
Tocharm a Skellum, or an Infidel.  
She (taking little York by th' lily hand)  
Doth seem to move, than (musing in a stand)  
Fear, hope contest, her colour comes, and goes,  
Sometimes the Lily sallies then the Rose;  
She forward steps, revokes it with a start,  
Armies of fears besiege her jealous heart:  
Fancy presents her now with Crookbacks' face,  
That loathsome Viper, which had stung her race  
To death; here snatching up her Son  
(Imprisoned in her arms) she seeks to run  
To hid herself: as when a Kite doth hover  
O'er a brood of Chickens the Hen doth cover  
Them in the hollow of her wing. Anon,  
The Spectre which appeared is conjured down  
By loyal Circles in the Chanc'lours look,  
As no bad Comment of his heart the Book.  
Thus thredding of the Beads (she lingering stays)  
Of hope and fear on wires of delays: 
Simile   
So Iordans sweetest stream is loath to leave  
His flowery Banks, to shut his crystal wave  
In the salt Seas noisome, pestiferous jail,  
But (as he creeps along) still craveth bail,  
Loyt'ring in crooked Meanders, ere he take  
His loathsome journey to th' Asphaltick-lake.   

" Here is my babe (my Lords) you so desire, 
Queen.   
" I lend him to your Trusts, and shall require  
" Him at your hands (be witness heaven! to this)  
" If any thing fall out that is amiss.  
" Edward conjures you all (whose Ghost is come,  
" Now speaking to you from Elysium)  
" By that great God, whose name you all profess,  
" And by your Honours, and your happiness,  
" To take the care of his poor Orphans left  
" Void of all Friendship, (if of you hereft:)  
" Assure me this, so shall you 'swage my Pain,  
" Denied, I'll never live to ask again:  
" I question not your power, less your will  
" But that you may the humble suit fulfil  
" Of a distressed widow; In your breasts  
" I lay up all my worldly hope, that rests  
" Of fortune's spoils; Faith I shall look to find  
" 'Mongst Scytheses, & Tartars, if you prove unkind;  
" Though Sorrows swelling surges should combine  
" To waft me to my grave through seas of brine,  
" Yet your unhappy children once may feel  
" (Though you now sit o'th' top of Fortune's wheel)  
" Such misery as mine; let fortune frown,  
" She plucketh up, as fast as she hath sown.  
" To say no more (my Lords) but have a care  
" (If I too much) lest you too little fear.  
No further could she speak, but weeps the rest,  
Tears Waiters are, when Sorrow makes a Feast;  
She cries, to think she's so unwise to cry,  
As if too jealous of their loyalty.  
Then (clasping of the Duke within her arms)  
Her melting bosom new affection warms:   

" Mine own sweet Babe! 
Queen.  who I well thought should be  
" A stay unto this sapless, withering Tree,  
" Which (like a clog) I'm forced to bear about  
" To keep my eager soul from getting out:  
" Whose life I have by such hard labour spun  
" Out of my-bowells, that it seems to run  
" Equal with mine! To rip thee from my side  
" Is death to think, ten Thousand to abide;  
" But thou art now no longer mine, but his  
" That gave me thee; let this unhappy kiss  
" Be the sad seal of a more sad Farewell  
" Than wit can paint, or words have power to tell.  
" Carry my Love along unto thy Brother,  
" O, that 'twere lawful now to be a mother!  
" Relations are but Crimes, nature's enchained  
" By force unnatural, and is arraigned  
" By Tyranny, that if the Lion say  
" Our feet, are wings, we shall be made his prey.  
" Weep not, dear Heart! Let never tears surprise  
" The dovelike glances of thy smiling eyes;  
" Thy spotless soul yet never sin did bear  
" That needeth to be rinsed in a tear:  
" Let it suffice that I am thus forlorn,  
" And have Thee; by my cares so often born.  
" Why hangest thou thus about my neck? O grief!  
" And melt'st my soul to pity for relief!  
Then (lips so close contracted) you would guess  
That they had shifted souls at every Kiss,  
And would have spoke, but words in tears were drowned  
Departurs painful instant gave a wound  
At which her life-blood seemed to issue out,  
And giddy passions whirled her brains about;  
(Like as those women, when they celebrate  
In Venus' Temple, fair Adonis' fate.)  
She (following still) pursued him with her eyes,  
When clouded, breathed these accents on her knees:   

" I seem like wounded Telephus to stand,  
" When bleeding under great Achilles' hand,  
" Whose healing lance (they say) received the power  
" (As to inflict the wound) to work the cure.  
" No sear-cloath of man's help can ease my sore,  
" To Tent it, does but make my pains the more:  
" No Poultess found, no Salve to cure my grief,  
" Though I should plunder (for to find relief)  
" Great Paracelsus closet. 'Las! my ill  
" Surmounteth that curer of Physics skill.  
" To give me rest, what dressing can avail  
" But by th' Omnipotent hand, which did assail  
" Me first? great god! since thou hast given the wound  
" Lord, be my Surgeon too, since none is found!   

Now Richard's talons having seized his prey,  
He quickly trussed it up, and hied away.  
First shall the Carpet Knight (that scents of Musk)  
(Drawing not Rap'er but his Lady's Busk)  
Kill armed squadrons with her looking glass;  
And Ajax swound with magic of a face:  
First the adventurous Seaman shall not fail  
To the Molucca's in a skiff to sail,  
Or cross the line in john Tredescants boat,  
Which he 'mongst Lambeth miracles doth quote;  
First shall our wooden Castles find a way  
By North unto rich China, or Cathay;  
That fretum Davis may no longer bound  
Our Maps (benumbed in the frozen Sound)  
'Fore Edward's tender plants (he left behind)  
Can spread under a Planet so unkind  
As Gloster, who is chief ascendant now,  
Slaying and swaying with imperious brow.   

Now have we lodged the Princes in the Tower,  
Waiting, till Time shall strike their latest hour.  
And here my tender Muse could think it best  
Rather to sit, and weep, then speak the rest:  
'Twould be a task more pleasing to my quill,  
To crown the Princes, than their blood to spill;  
Can I perform (as well as it was meant)  
Fourth Edward's dying Will, and Testament,  
My verse should dance a Galliard, and revoke  
(Brave Brandon like) the sturdy staves of oak,  
And in those royal Jousts should tell you  
Most lances splintered; after that should go  
And harness out the doves for Venus' coach,  
And then (perhaps) set generous wines abroach.  
I next (to please your stomaches) would prepare  
Cost-craving Viands, and to strike your ear,  
A consort of such heavenly music bring  
As if Apollo perched upon each string:  
And (lest some sense might go unravished)  
Your eyes on handsome Ladies had been fed,  
Where, at such banquets, men (too oft unwise)  
Do pine their hearts in feasting of their eyes;  
And (on a gallant Courser) last of all  
Have ush'red Valiant 
* The King's Champion.  Dimmock to the Hall,  
Whose Gauntlet should have given a brave to Fate,  
Proving all quarrels illegitimate.  
Fain would my Muse lay sadder thoughts aside,  
And longer in this Temperate Clime abide;  
(Such Subjects suiting her complexion best  
As are least Sanguine, and which blush the least)  
But in their journey Travellers must on,  
And next I come to Richard's torrid Zone,  
Whose heat indeed was so intolerable,  
That for the Princes 'twas not habitable.  
Should elder Kings now rise out of their graves,  
'Twould puzzle them to find the English laws,  
Unless old Records should direct them best,  
Not copies (blurred) in a disloyal breast.  
Those, which had most in stake, were standers by,  
And sat in counsel but through courtesy,  
Some of whose names were notched in Nero's tally,  
As those black victims which he meant to rally  
On Deaths recruit. Goodness was Antic grown,  
In that age, no virtue was in fashion. 
Simile.   
'Tis said, when flowery Sicily was divorced  
From Italy, (by Neptune's arms accrossed)  
Some loving palms retained a Sympathy,  
And (bowing each to other) did defy  
The spiteful Element. Some few I see  
Still courting virtue in her poverty,  
Though she was clothed in rags, and in disgrace,  
Loved her, not for her dowry but her face.  
In blustering storms some chose their grapes to gather,  
Making their sweetest Hay in foulest weather,  
With breath of Honour, and with silver Oars  
(Such as were used by Cleopatra's row'rs)  
Ply Richard's galley with a sweeting hand,  
In a blind mist to bring him safe to land.  
From Ioves all-piercing eye could mortals shroud  
Their sooty sins, (wrapped in a darker cloud)  
Mankind would perish in a bloody swound,  
And only monsters live, to walk the round,  
And first 'tis Hastings turn to quit the stage,  
He doffs his head, et exit in a rage;  
(Stafford shall live a while, to set a crown  
On Richard's head, and after lose his own,  
To hatch the Serpent's eggs, and nothing gain  
But hisses, and their poison for his pain.)  
He had a priest to shreeve him in the Tower,  
And all the world forgave at's dying hour,  
Though with himself; and Gloster, I scarce see  
How he could die in perfect charity,  
For hear him thus lamenting of his fate.  
(Repent repêntance! when thou comest so late)   

" This load weighs not so heavy, as the hand  
" That lays it on; nor shamefully to stand  
" A victim to the sword, but for to see  
" That I a Sacrifice am made by thee,  
" Who, for to raise the Outworks of thy crown,  
" Slighted the Brest-work of my Faith: to drown  
" Where I expected Palms, and all my suits  
" Blasted like Sodoms most accursed fruits;  
" To tread on Thorns, when men of my deserts  
" Are Crowned with roses; heavens, how it smarts!  
" Is this to build the seat of Tyranny,  
" To pull those stairs down he climbed by?  
" Loathing the fight of our guilt-striking faces,  
" As Debtors do of Bailiffs, to whose Graces  
" They own the payment of those borrowed sums  
" Of favours lent unto such bankrupt sons.  
" Had I served God, with so sincere Religion,  
" As I have tendered to his damned Ambition,  
" I never at his hands should need t' have cried  
" Mercy! O mercy! and been thus denied.  
" O, could my-brine-steeped prayers now prevail  
" To cut off from my Children this Entail  
" Of wickedness! 'Tis Grace must sue a Fine  
" To cut off sins Reversion from my line!  
" Though Gloster seems to cut down every Tree  
" That clouds th' ambitious prospect of his eye,  
" One sturdy Oak may yet remain unslain,  
" Of which (at length) he may his gallows claim.   

" Well, this Revenge I'll take, I'll on before  
" In Domesdayes book to write so dire a score,  
" When Richard's conscience shall read the tally,  
" The Stygian flames shall lighten through the sally  
" Of an infernal blush. Beware the shelf  
" Statesmen! where I (unhappy) split myself.   

Who dareth (Hastings!) to a Tyrant, shall  
Lose both his Interest, and Principal;  
Their Maxim is, they may the charges save  
Of paying wages to desert, a Grave  
Is full discharge, and seems to cancel all  
Claims, and demands that were, or ever shall;  
'tis a cheap trick, to quarrel such from hence  
Whose over merit was their worst offence.   

But ah! my understanding's strike blind  
T'record a passage, that now comes in mind;  
At the same time the Lords at Pomfret died  
(So Fate had taught her rolling wheels to slide)  
Ensnared by Hastings, the same day, and hour  
Was he himself cut shorter in the Tower;  
But thou, my Muse! dare not with feeble wings  
Soar to the height of God's eternal things,  
(Forgetting that thy plumes can't raise thee highed  
Then the ground) but always learn t' admire  
His mystic Secrets, which none know but they  
That have shaked off the luggage of their clay.   

Gloster (knowing such crowns are hedged with thorn,  
As are upon usurping foreheads worn)  
Takes Stafford for a glove, whose Eloquence  
Might break the hedge, or pluck them from the fence:  
(Like as the Ape made use of Pusses foot  
To scrape the embers for the roasted nut)  
he's now in labour, and the Gossyps come  
Wondering to see such struggle in the womb  
Of his design; the throws are violent,  
And one in haste is for a midwise sent,  
('Twas strange to hear that Richard waited him,  
When few believed he was so near his Time)  
This part was Staffords, who did here great stead  
By's skill, to bring Ambition ●●e a bed.  
False Buckingham (whose tongue's the only part  
In him I can commend) had learned the art  
To broach what ever he had barreled up,  
(Not like to some, which have more bung, than tap)  
Opening the golden floudgates of his throat  
He charmed the people with a pleasing note,  
And (mounted on a high Tribunal) spoke,  
(Fittered had been a Gibbet, or a Stake)  
Stroking the vulgar beast in lushions style,  
As made it stand wide gaping all the while  
(Like as (they say) the Egyptian Crocodile,  
When Trochilus picks his teeth:) there is a Time  
" He saith, when Heaven doth to State's design  
" To carve out Happiness, they must expect  
" Never to cut so well, if they neglect:  
" Coy Virgins, which refuse to pluck their May,  
" May sighting sit, but long enough may stay.  
" The Blessing to this Isle (so long was meant)  
" God (by the Duke of Gloster) now hath sent;  
" A Prince so fit for rule, that should we slight,  
" The tender is too good for such despite.  
" 'Tis he will do in Kingdoms what the brain  
" Of pregnant Archimedes ne'er could said,  
" In scattering all the brutish fogs, which rest  
" I'ch' brackish fens of man's ungoverned breast,  
" Through Justice, (which, if once of this bereavest,  
" The largest Kingdom, is the greatest Theft.)  
" If that this world's great All be subtly framed  
" Into a Harp (as by Synesius named)  
" he'll wind the strings, and move the fingers so,  
" That sweet-life breathing Airs thence shall flow;  
" Composing well that Musick-book of white,  
" And blacker notes, and tune them to delight;  
" Being in Libra always known to sit,  
" Ordering affairs as the day, and night  
" (When Sol runs round the girdle of the year)  
" Do in the yernall Equinox appear.  
To make it short; his Wordrobe was you see  
Set out which flowers of Embroidery,  
Save that this general salt it did contain,  
Each colour's counterfeit, and none in grain,   

Like to a writheled Carrion I have seen  
(In stead of fifty, writ her down fifteen)  
Wearing her bought complexion in a box,  
And every morn her closet-sace unlocks,  
Plants cherries in her cheeks, her eye she cheers,  
And with her pencil cancels thirty years;  
Opening her lustful windows, which are shown  
Nigh to the navel o'er with Lilies sown,  
(Clad in the ruins of a Broker's shop)  
Her musky mouth she practiseth to open  
To a just size; by magic of her glass  
She learneth how to set Spells in her face  
So long, till (with her poisoned past) she get  
Some witless gallant for to take the bait;  
And nothing can his lovesick heat assuage  
(Burning far hotter than the Dog-days rage)  
But day and night God Hymen doth invoke  
Till they are coupled in the wedding yoke:  
But thinking (in the morn) to kiss his bride,  
He finds an ugly Proserpina by's side,  
Smelling all over like a Surgeon's box  
Of salves, and unguents, if she scape the—  
Then let me die, if any vice can say  
It more deserves the great Anathema  
Of all mankind, than this, which seeks t'entrap  
By nearest unto virtue keeping Shop,  
The silly Bird when she the fouler spies  
Approaching her with blear, and running eyes,  
Rolling in's crafty hands a pair of beads,  
From this same holy man she nothing dreads,  
Till at the length full tremblingly she stands  
A prey to th' blood, and rapine in his hands,  
In all heavens court there's ne'er a deity  
But deeply suffers by Hypocrisy.   

Having wound up the bottom of his speech,  
The Duke stood listening, seeming to beseech  
A Plaudit from the 'maz'd circumstants, who  
Were speechless, like pale Images of dough,  
And could not all raise such a Stock of breath  
As made up a reply; as if that death  
Had by the fatal Sisters then been sent  
To seize upon their clayey Tenement:  
So fat from hugging of such thoughts as these,  
Their loyal hearts were all Antipodes.  
Taking their silence for a joint consent  
HE interprets counter what the people meant,  
Saluting Gloster King; (which welcome peal  
Was only by his servants rung, through zeal  
Unto their Lords commands) but could not hire  
A voice in Consort with Rebellions choir.   


●uck. " Though 'twould perplex your Highness to account  
" How high the Audit of your virtues mount  
" (Esteeeming more (as oft I've heard you say)  
" Well to deserve, then for to wear the Bay:)  
" Yet they which sue to heavens high-bribeless hall  
" Find not the Ramparts so impregnable,  
" As not to yield unto the Battery  
" Of th' humble Crowd, with importunity:  
" Yield mighty Prince! That we at length may see  
" Our sweat wiped of b'a blissful Jubilee;  
" Make (Sir) this day the leader of that year!  
" we'll dress it in a golden character.   

" Fancy but now how some old Anchorite, 
Simile.   
(Whose Cat's his Comrade, and a mile outright  
Is India, who doth adore his Lar  
'Mongst smoke, and cobwebs, and his choicest fare  
Cabadges, and Turnips) would stand to hear  
His wondering self saluted Emperor;  
So Richard feigned himself, seemed not to know,  
Though Stafford paced, but as he'd have him go. 
Richard   
" I crave (my Lord) you'd not disturb my ease  
" (Since of the world I've lately begged the peace)  
" With motions like to these, and only tend  
" To further quarrels which may yet depend.  
" How hath old time already mocked at them  
" Whose doting humours seemed to court a name,  
" Seeking Chimaeras, or a happiness  
" Whose chiefest blessing is forgetfulness?  
" Here vain Semiramis doth cause my laughter,  
" Who knocked the mountains till they gigged her feature  
No-wiser Phaspho preached so long to birds  
" (Teaching them well to lisp in humane words)  
" That Crows, and Parrots after might adore  
" Him as a God, that was an Ass before:  
" Let Rome's Caligula set up the figure  
" Of's head upon the trunk of Inpiter,  
(" Whose pride to such a blasphemy was lead,  
" To quarter with his God his brains and head)  
" A higher peg yet did those Hero's strain  
" Whose merits could triumphal arches gain,  
" Columns of brass, or porphyry Canopies,  
" Hanged all about with prowess, victories;  
" Yet Obelisks shan't stand without a stilt,  
" And Pyramids upon the ground are spilt,  
" When all their stones shall into grave-stones turn,  
" Who's then a King, when all the world's an 'em  
" What's Honour, but a Beldame's midnight theme,  
" Or else some nodding nurses idle dream?  
" Ratles for children, like their making pies  
" Of clay, and dirt, and laughed at by the wise.  
" A shadow right, which while I seek to flee,  
" See with what speed, see how it follows me!  
" You make me blush to hear such worth in me,  
" When mwn I know of rich ability,  
" Who can more wisdom for the glean leave  
" Than ye from my whole Vintage can receive.  
" Choose some young sprightly Gallant, which may wet  
" In blood his Laurels, stew them in his sweat,  
" Whose life is lightning, 's word a thunderclap,  
" That (though the ancient Giants kept the gap)  
" His Trophies should break through; whose skin of steel  
" Dares stand a leaden Shower, and not feel  
" Dull sleep at night; whose high achievements may  
" Make Fortune charge under his conquered pay.  
" Alas, my withered arm, and wrinkled skin  
" Speaks me not for Crowns, but for a Coffin,  
" The worms already begin to cramp my feet,  
" No robe's in season but a winding sheet:  
" 'Tis time for me to take me to my Cell,  
" My Brother 
* George Duke of Clarence Broths to Edw. the 4 drowned in a But of Malmsey by the secret contrivance of the Duke of Gloster at was thought  Clarence Choast doth seem to spell  
" Strange Magic now unto my roused fears,  
" The But (me thinks) doth cry in Malmsey tears.  
" I'll only hang to th' earth by th' slender root  
" Of nature, that when death shall pluck my foot  
" I may be sooner loosened; then I'll strive  
" Some devout souls to get (that are alive,)  
" (Whose word goes further then my bond in heaven)  
" To put up prayers for me each day seven,  
" So (these acquainted better there then I)  
" Their votes shall do my soul a courtesy.   

" My Liege! (speaks Buckingham) we have of late  
" Felt many dangerous fevers in our State,  
" And by most cunning Letches it is said  
" We can't do well, until we change our bed.  
" The Banes 'twixt England's sceptre, & your hand  
" Are now out asked; see how we thronging stand  
" Now (with a mighty hum) to vouch it so,  
" And drown with louder found your pow'rfulne,  
Still did Third Richard (seemingly) deny  
To take the Ensigns up of royalty;  
Perhaps he might a little Maid-state use,  
She feigns her coy, whose servant hotly woes:  
Else (pedlar-like) refused to open his stall  
Until the market's full; as best of all  
To vent deceitful wares, when people buy  
Not out-of Judgement, but for company.   

Some herds of silly souls at last consent  
To pay their suffrages, as a quit Rend  
Due to th' example of the greater Peers;  
'Tis an ill Tenure for to hold by th' Ears:  
They mortgage Man, and are but Beasts at most,  
That make o'er Reason unto Feoffs in Trust.  
A few well-centred souls did keep their Tense,  
Not wildly staggering to th' Circumference;  
But ('twixt the fixed Poles of Faith, and Love)  
They found the Axletree on which to move:  
Some others (tossed with Storms of discontent)  
Whose giddy brains turned round the Government,  
(Whilst they dispute o'th' Sceptre, Cross, and Ball)  
Made their Alleg'ance merely sceptical.   

Thus (modest soul! full fore against his will)  
They Gloster so with arguments compel  
To take the royal Purple: Brave design!  
Hell, keep no pattern of't for after Time!  
To grant thy friends requests, 'twas Courtesy;  
Promote the public good, 'twas Piety;  
Here thy Ambition may sit crowned too,  
Three strokes so wisely driven with one blow!  
Thus touch one string of th' Lyre, 
Simile.  & 'twill rebound  
Through all the choir, and multiply the sound.   

Now pulpits ring, (whence those shrill Trumpets are  
That oft alarm Consciences to war:)  
A Sorbon Doctor fills a vial up  
Of Stygian puddle, and commends the cup  
To an Assembly, only met to hear  
A Preacher, not the devil's Barrister.  
He names his Text (which when he first unlocks,  
'Twas like the opening of Pandora's box)  
That spurious slips should take but slender root: 
Sapien. ●   
From whence this Doctrine quickly started up  
(Wrapped in a hidden mystery of State)  
Clarence, and Edward's illegitimate,  
Got on the Duchess in Adultery,  
'Twas the right door they passed, but not they Key.  
Then (more) he pleads 'gainst Edward's sons an Act  
Of Bastardy, made by a Precontract  
With Dame Elizabeth Lucy; who confessed  
The King to her had so much love expressed  
She bore away her belly full; beside  
A firm engagement to be made his bride;  
(The truth on'nt was, the over credulous Maid  
Did take the earnest fore the Bargain made.)  
Then he proceeds to Use, as much forlorn,  
And unto Yorks old Duke applies the horn.  
Was ever Text so mis'rably undone,  
With Doctrine false, and Application?  
Sure such Divinity first came from Hell;  
Teach Truth to lie, and Law for to rebel?  
Was it not strange Gloster would sit to hear  
These words, and not suspend the Minister?  
How would you wonder then, if I should tell  
He first contrived what the Priest should spell?  
Ungracious son! which with so foul a shame  
Blush not to brand thy Parents sacred name;  
Although 'tis easy for to cure the wound,  
Yet on their credits may a scar be found.   

Reader! what yet th' hast seen, was but a Type  
Of higher Frenzy, which even now is ripe.  
Crookbuck well knows (i'th' Vessel of a Throan)  
A wary Merchant will admit but one  
Adventurer to share: and now the Port  
Of Edward shrinks, to widen Richard's Court;  
Nay, some were sent, whose lesson was to con  
The language of a Nod, and motion  
Of either eye, the dialect of's Hands,  
T'observe the Grammar of his Finger's ends:  
This seemed to loosen so the Prince's joints  
That he scarce ever after tied his points,  
As thinking with himself, expensive care  
A falling house is needless to repair.  
But one day he (as willing for to hear  
Some news of th' other world) whisp'red the ear  
Of one of his Attendants," You now see  
" Us in a state beneath our quality;  
" You know both who I am, and how that I  
" In former times could bless a Courtesy  
" With a warm beam of Favour: say, what Stars  
" Are chief Ascendants now in these affairs?  
" Tell us, how looks the Horizon? Is it clear?  
" Speak, to what end my Uncle keeps us here?  
" What boot would I now give (to ease my mind)  
" Twixt a free Plowboy, and a Prince confined!  
" Here's nought to our enquiring eyes appears  
" But the bare Sceleton of walls, and Bars.  
" Is this the pleasure to be left a King!  
" Have Crowns such thorns! do Sceptres use to sting!  
" This is a Prentice-Princedome; royalty  
" Hath scarce the name of specious slavery;  
" Nay, yonder boys, (that I see playing by)  
" Do seem to me to King it more than I.  
" What have we done? who can relate the fact?  
" We're Prince's born, that was our father's act;  
" And have there ever such a Law been seen  
" That we should die for our Original sin?  
" My Crown will ne'er sit well without a sweat  
" Upon his head, yet I'll bequeath him that,  
" And feed upon his basket that doth give  
" Orphan's a pension, and their wants relieve;  
" We will to him for help ourselves apply  
" That feeds the hungry Ravens, when they cry:  
" Our Birthrights take, the blessing leave unto us  
" Of sweetest life, and don't of that undo us.   

The Ravens flocking so to Richard's Court,  
Were thought by many wisemen to import  
Some sudden funeral; which shall ensue  
E'er Cynthia shuts her golden horns in Move.   

Where's the lame Fire-God? Is the lease expired  
Of his Sicilian forge, and can't be hired  
To lend us a swift Thunderbolt, in season  
To crush the head of high-aspiring Treason,  
Of such illboding Comets as do muffle  
The world in flames, and Kingdoms in a scuffle?   

His sword (which late at Pomfret broke the fast)  
Feeds to a surfeit, having got a taste,  
And (having eat of many a courser dish)  
To close his Stomach he gins to wish  
His two young Nephews, and for them doth call  
(As sweet meats) to be served in last of all  
Warm blood's a Cordial, and he can't digest  
Until he takes a draught of this at last.   

His ripe design hath now attain'd full age;  
And taken forth out of its pupillage;  
He only lacks a Tenant for to farm  
The Prince's blood; but amongst all the swarm  
Of villanized men, not one's content  
To take the Lose, and pay so high a rent;  
Until Raviliac Tyrrell dared to seal  
The damned Indentures, through a cursed zeal  
For to be known Hells masterpiece to be,  
The Devils None such for iniquity.  
Richard doth likewise for himself contract  
To throw in so much gold shall poise the act.  
I've often heard, there is a time will call  
That the best thrift when men are prodigal,  
But he that can't in Promises be rich  
I'll swear him Bankrupt, in the backhouse ditch.  
Hell hath no wares to fallen, but instantly  
Earth yields a Chapman will as gladly buy.  
(As loath to see) now the condoling Sun  
(The horrid murder which was acted soon)  
Had closed his eyelids in the crystal streams,  
Losing his light, as if he wept his beams;  
(Muffled in cloaks of clouds) he leaves the day  
In widowhood, lest otherwise he may  
Be Accessary thought unto the sin  
Which the approaching night did usher in.  
When Sleep (the Ploughman's friend, & ease of Kings)  
Had dropped a silence from her drowsy wings  
Upon the restless motions of the day,  
Which (with his leaden mace arrested) lay  
With senses all entomb d; these Princely Boys,  
Sporting a while with pretty harmless Toys,  
As putpin, draw-gloves, in his hair this ties  
Fast Knots, whilst that looks Babies in his eyes,  
At Handy Dandy, Hide-seek, Love me best,  
Till sleep came in, and stole them both to rest.  
Where (sweetly snugging) (like two tender vines)  
They wreathed embraces into closest twines;  
Love, waited on by all the choicest Graces,  
Seemed to fly round about their Angel-faces,  
They strictly met with so espoused a lip  
As if they seemed each others soul to sip.  
A sight like this might ravish cruelty,  
And melt the heart of Tigers into pity.   

Tyrrell (the stain of all that ever wore  
The name of Christian) cometh to the Tower,  
Let me not scare thee Reader, whilst I bend  
My pencil (briefly) to describe the fiend.  
A wreath of Snakes (in stead of hair) did crawl  
About his head, and down his shoulders fall;  
A Basilisk did look through either eye,  
〈◊〉 face annealed by the flames that fly  
●rom Hells sulphrious womb; about his neck  
● chain of Curses hang, and at his back  
waits Repentance (ready to departed)  
With tear-swoln eyes, and Vultures at her heart:  
●n his hands he holdeth a Commission  
Written in blood by th' Prince of Acheron,  
●nd to his side a Faulch'on girded have  
Was seven ties dipped in the Stygian wave;  
Upon his girdle he a Bottle wears  
Once filled with widows, & poor Orphans tears,  
But with the coldness of his heart alone  
●s there congealed into a marble stone.  
His soul is called i'th' Leopards spotted pelt,  
His bowels Iron, and unapt to melt;  
Terror, and Shame doth lead him by the hand.   

He doth of the Lieutenant strait demand  
The Keys; old 
* Sir Robert Brakenbury Lieutenant of the Tower  Brakenbury must  
Be for a night coustrained to quit his Trust.  
His soul (proving too chaste for such a suit)  
Disdained to be the Devil's prostitute,  
But (when the Tyrant wooed him) made defence,  
And still took Sanctuary at Conscience,  
Wished him to try the mettle of his hand  
Upon the Touchstone of some brave command,  
Saying that man deserves not to be seen  
A Traitor, only fears to act a sin.  
Tyrrell (all whose desire was to see  
Two more such Villains in the world as He)  
Dighton, and Forest finds (whose names condemn  
Them to the deserts from the sight of men:)  
These Three (Hell could not out of all her store  
(Were but their pattern lost show three such more)  
Ent'red the Chamber where the Princes slept,  
And with blood-dropping feet these Ruff'ans stepped  
Unto the Bed, (the guilty Tapers wink,  
The sweeting Floor doth underneath them sink)  
But stricken with the rays reflections,  
That lightened from such sweet complexions,  
These Marbles moistened, tears in Ambush lay  
So close as if conspiring to betray  
Their hearts to Pity: but (lest any sense  
Might open a door to let in Conscience)  
They strengthened so their guards that ne'er a part  
Can be surprised by relenting smart.  
Throwing themselves upon the youths, they press  
Their tender limbs, quick-strugling for redress,  
Stuffing their throats with pillows, so to choke  
Their woeful cries, whose accent might provoke  
An iron Soul to melt, whose very sight  
Might strain a tear from Get, or Troglodyte. 
Simile.   
But as a Rock i'th' Ocean stands (unmoved)  
Against heavens Thunder, and the raging flood  
Beneath: no more these savage Lestrigons,  
Constrained to pity with their cries, or groans,  
Would aught desist, until their souls were fled,  
Leaving the dead-stiffe limbs upon the bed.  
Their bodies found a homely Sepulchre,  
Which at the stairs foot they did inter,  
Under a heap of Stone, which well we may  
Call 
* Gen. 31.47. A heap of witness.  jegar Sahadutha unto this day  
Thus were the Princes (like the two twin-stars  
Which guilded with their rays our British spheres)  
By the untimely hand of ruthless Fate  
Massacred even at the Temple gate  
Of Honour, whose succeeding ages sum  
Might bud with Trophies, and with wonders bloom  

Simile.  Like as we see a hopeful Provis-Rose  
(Which for to dress some pleasant garden growe●)  
Of the same Scarlet make a Tomb at night,  
Which was a Cradle in the morning light.   

There is one Knot yet in the History  
The Reader may expect I should untie;  
Whether Buckingham were at all allied  
To this Heav'n-scaling, horrid Regicide:  
But since my Muse hath ta'en him in her Round,  
And some disloyal Pranks already found,  
(Giving no good account of his Commission)  
She justly may attach him on suspicion.   

Some rare Apelles here my pencil take,  
(If such a Piece be possible to make)  
And shadow out the griefe-slain Portraiture  
Of Edward's Queen, when she this news did hear:  
Since no such art inspires my Muse's breast,  
I'll draw the Curtain, which shall hid the rest.    
FINIS.