Unfortunate English princes.  
When master Chaloner had ended this so eloquent a tragedy and to all Princes a right notable and worthy instruction, we paused having passed through a miserable time full of piteous tragedies And seeing the rain of Henry the fourth ensued, a man more prosperous although not untrobled with wars both of outforth and inward enemies, we began to search what Princes were fallen therein, whereof the number was not small: and yet because their examples were not much to be noted for our purpose, we passed over all the Maskers (of whom King Richard's brother was chief) which were all slain and put to death for their traitorous attempt. And finding Owen Glendour next, one of fortunes own whelps, & the Percies his confederates, I thought them unmeet to be over passed, and therefore said thus to the silent company: what my masters is every man at once in a brown study, hath no man affection to any of these stories? you mind so much some other belike, that these do not move you: And to say troth there is no special cause why they should. Howbeit Owen Glendour because he is a man of that country whence (as the welshmen bear me in hand) my Petigre is descended, although he be but a slender prince, yet rather than he should be forgotten, I will tell his tale for him under the privilege of Martin Hundred: which Owen coming naked out of the wild mountains, like the Image of death in all points (his dart only excepted) so sore hath famine and hunger consumed him, lamenteth his infortune after this manner.  

¶ How Owen Glendour seduced by false prophecies took upon him to be prince of Wales, and was by Henry then prince thereof chased to the Mountains, where he miserably died for lack of food.  

I Pray the Baldwyn sith thou dost intend  
To show the falls of such as climb to high,  
Remember me, whose miserable end  
May teach a man his vicious life to fly:  
Oh Fortune, Fortune, out on her I cry,  
My body and fame she hath made lean & slender  
For I poor wretch am sterved Owen Glendour.   

A Welsh man borne, and of a gentle blood,  
But ill brought up, whereby full well I find  
That neither birth nor lineage make men good  
Though it be true that Cat will after kind:  
Flesh gendereth flesh, so doth not soul or mind,  
They gender not, but foully do degender  
When men to vice from virtue them do render.   

Each thing by nature tendeth to the same  
Whereof it came, and is disposed like:  
Down sinks the mould, up mounts the fiery flame  
With horn the heart, with hoof the horse doth strike  
The Wolf doth spoil, the subtle Fox doth pike,  
And generally no fish, flesh, fowl, or plant  
Doth any property that their dame had want.   

But as for men, sith severally they have  
A mind whose manners are by learning made,  
Good bringing up alonely doth them save  
In virtuous deeds, which with their parents fade.  
So that true gentry standeth in the trade  
Of virtuous life, not in the fleshly line:  
For blood is Brute, but Gentry is divine.   

Experience doth cause me thus to say  
And that the rather for my contreymen,  
Which vaunt and boast themselves above the day  
If they may strain their stock for worthy men:  
Which let be true, are they the better then?  
Nay far the worse if so they be not good,  
For why they stain the beauty of their blood.   

How would we mock the burdenbearing mule  
If he would brag he were an horse's sun,  
To press his pride (might nothing else him rule)  
His boast to prove, no more but bid him run:  
The horse for swiftness hath his glory won,  
To which the mule could never the more aspire  
Though he should prove that Pegas were his sire.   

Each man may crack of that which is his own,  
Our parent's virtues theirs are and not ours:  
Who therefore will of noble kind be known  
Ought shine in virtue like his ancestors,  
Gentry consisteth not in Lands and Towers,  
He is a Churl though all the world be his  
He Arthur's heir, if that he live a miss.   

For virtuous life doth make a gentleman  
Of her possessor, all be he poor as job,  
Yea though no name of Elders show he can:  
For proof take Merlin whose father was an hob.  
But who so sets his mind to spoil and rob,  
Although he come by due descent fro Brute,  
He is a Chorle, ungentle, vile and brute.   

Well thus did I for want of better wit,  
Because my parents naughtily brought me up:  
For gentle men (they said) was nought so fit  
As to attaste by bold attempts the cup  
Of Conquests wine, whereof I thought to sup:  
And therefore bend myself to rob and rive,  
And whom I could of land and goods deprive.   

For Henry the fourth did the usurp the crown,  
Despoiled the king, with Mortymer the heir:  
For which his subjects sought to put him down.  
And I while Fortune offered me so fair,  
Did what I might his honour to appeyre:  
And took on me to be the Prince of Wales,  
Entiste thereto by many of Merlin's tales.   

For which, such Idle as wait upon the spoil  
From every part of Wales unto me drew:  
For loitering youth untaught in any torle  
Are ready aye all mischief to ensue.  
Through help of these so great my glory grew,  
That I defied my King through lofty heart,  
And made sharp war on all that took his part.   

See luck, I took lord Reinold Grey of Rythen,  
And him enforced my daughter to espouse:  
And so unraunsomed held him still, and sithen  
In Wygmore land through battle rigorous  
I caught the right heir of the crowned house:  
The Earl of march sir Edmond Mortymer,  
And in a dungeon kept him prisoner.   

Than all the marches longing unto Wales  
By Syverne west, I did invade and burn:  
Destroyed the towns in mountains & in vales,  
And with rich spoils did homeward safe return.  
Was none so bold durst once against me spurn,  
Thus prosperously doth fortune forward call  
Those whom she minds to give the sorest fall.   

When fame had brought these tidings to the king  
(Although the Scots that vexed him right sore)  
A mighty army against me he did bring:  
Whereof the French King being warned afore,  
Who mortal hate against king Henry bore,  
To grieve our foe, he quickly to me sent  
Twelve thousand Frenchmen armed to war & bent   

A part of them led by the Earl of March  
Lord james of Bourbon a valiant tried knight  
Withheld by winds to wales ward forth to march  
Took land at Plymmouth privily on a night:  
And when he had done all he durst or might  
After that a meinie of his men were slain  
He stole to ship and sailed home again.   

Twelve thousand other in Mylford did arrive,  
And came to me, than lying at Denbigh  
With armed welsh men thousands double five:  
With whom we went to Wurcester well nigh,  
And there encampte us on a mount on high,  
To abide the king, who shortly after came  
And pitched his field on a Hill hard by the same.   

There eight days long or hosts lay face to face,  
And neither durst the others power assail:  
But they so stopped the passages the space  
That victuals could not come to our avail,  
Where through constrained our hearts begun to fail,  
So that the Frenchmen shrancke away by night,  
And I with mine to the mountains took our flight,   

The king pursued us, greatly to his cost,  
From Hills to wuds, fro wuds to valleys plainer  
And by the way his men and stuff he lost.  
And when he see he gained nought save pain  
He blewe retreat, and got him home again:  
Then with my power I boldly came abroad  
Taken in my country for a very God.     

Philogamus  
give place ye poets fine  
bow down now & incline  
For now the Muses vine  
So Sacred and Divine  
In Parnase holy Hill  
Have wrought their worthy will  
And by their goodly skill  
Upon that mighty Mountain  
In Hellycons' Fountain  
(That always doth remain  
Since Pegase made it flow  
As by your books (〈…〉)  
Have washed 〈…〉 one  
That slepte● 〈…〉  
That forks 〈◊〉 upon  
Who after that anon  
As he had seen the Muse's  
New Poetry he uses  
And yours he clean refuses.