Thy winning seek to stay; and then his son Should be the cause to lose, when thou had'st won.

Yet now in this so happy a meanwhile,
And interlightning times thy virtues wrought,
That Discord had no leisure to defile

So fair attempts with a tumultuous thought:
And ev❜n thyself thyself did'st so beguile
With such attention upon what was sought,
That time affords not now (with fear or hate)
Others to seek, thee to secure thy state.

Or else how easy had it been for thee,
All the pretendant race t' have laid full low?
If thou proceeded had'st with cruelty,
Not suff'ring any fatal branch to grow,
But unsuspicious magnanimity

Shames such effects of fear and force to show;
Busied in free and open actions, still
Being great-for being good, hates to be ill.

And yet such wrongs are held meet to be done,
And often for the state thought requisite;
As when the public good depends thereon,
When great injustice is esteem'd great right.
But yet, what good with doing ill is won?
Who hath of blood made such a benefit,
As hath not fear'd more after than before;
And made his peace the less, his plague the more?

Far otherwise dealt this undaunted king,
That cherished the offspring of his foes,
And his competitors to grace did bring;
And them his friends for arms and honours chose:
As if plain courses were the safest thing,
Where upright goodness sure and stedfast goes;
Free from that subtle mask'd impiety,
Which this depraved world calls policy.

Yet how hath Fate dispos'd of all this good >
What have these virtues after-times avail'd?
In what stead bath high-raised valour stood,
When this continuing cause of greatness fail'd?
Then when proud grown the irritated blood,
Enduring not itself, itself assail'd;

As though that Prowess had but learn'd to spill
Much blood abroad, to cut her throat with skill.

How doth th' Eternal, in the course of things,
Immix the causes both of good and ill?
That thus th one effects of th' other brings;
As what seems made to bliss, is born to spill?
What! from the best of virtues, glory, springs
That which the world with misery doth fill?
Is th' end of happiness but wretchedness?
Hath sin his plague, and virtue no success?
Either that is not good the world holds good;
Or else is so confus'd with ill, that we
(Abused with th' appearing likelihood)
Run to offend, whilst we think good to be:
Or else the Heavens made man (in furious blood)
To torture man; allotting no course free
From mischief long. Sending fair days, that breed
But storms; to make more foul times that succeed.

Who would have thought that so great victories,
Such conquests, riches, land, and kingdom gain'd,
Could not but have establish'd in such wise
This powerful state, in state to have remain'd?
Who would have thought that mischief could de-
A way, so soon to lose what was attain'd?

[vise

Near threescore years are pass'd since Bolingbroke
Did first attain (God knows how just) the crown:
And now his race, for right possessors took,
Were held of all to hold nought but their own:
When Richard duke of York begins to look
Into their right, and makes his title known;
Wak'ning up sleeping Right, that lay as dead,
To witness how his race was injured.

His father's end, in him no fear could move
T" attempt the like, against the like of might;
Where long possession now of fear and love,
Seem'd to prescribe ev'n an innated right.
So that to prove his state, was to disprove
Time, law, consent, oath and allegiance quite:
And no way but the way of blood there was,
Through which (with all confusion) he must pass.

"And how much better for him had it been, T'endure a wrong with peace, than with such toil

obtain a bloody right?-Since right is sin, That is ill-sought, and purchased with spoil." But this so wretched state are kingdoms in, Where one man's cause shall all the rest embroil:

"And oft t' advance a tyrant to a crown,
Men run t' undo the state that is their own."

And yet that opportunity which led
Him to attempt, seem'd likewise him t' excuse:
A feeble-spirited king that governed,
Who ill could guide the sceptre he did use;
His enemies, that his worth maliced,

Who both the land and him did much abuse:
The people's love; and his apparent right,
May seem sufficient motives to incite.

Besides, the now ripe wrath (deferr'd till now)
Of that sure and unfailing Justicer,
That never suffers wrong so long to grow,
And to incorporate with right so far,
As it might come to seem the same in show,
(T' encourage those that evil-minded are
By such success) but that at last he will
Confound the branch, whose root was planted ill.
Else might the impious say, with grudging spite,
"Doth God permit the great to riot free,
And bless the mighty though they do unright,
As if he did unto their wrongs agree?
And only plague the weak and wretched wight,
For smallest faults, ev'n in the high'st degree?
When he but using them for others' scourge,
Likewise of them at length the world doth purge.

"But could not yet for bloodshed satisfy
The now well-ruling of th' ill-gotten crown?
Must ev'n the good receive the penalty
Of former sins, that never were their own?
And must a just king's blood (with misery)
Pay for a bad, unjustly overthrown?
Well-then we see, Right in his course must go:
And men, t' escape from blood must keep it so."
And sure this king that now the crown possess'd,
(Henry the Sixth) was one whose life was free
From that command of vice, whereto the rest
Of most these mighty sovereigns subjects be;
And number'd might have been among the best
Of other men, if not of that degree.
A right good man, but yet an evil king;
Unfit for what he had in managing.

Of humble spirit, of nature continent;

No thought t' increase he had; scarce keep his own:
For pard'ning apter than for punishment;
He chokes his pow'r, to have his bounty known.
Far from revenge; soon won; soon made content;
As fitter for a cloister than a crown:
Whose holy mind so much addicted is

On th' world to come, that he neglecteth this.
With such a weak-good, feeble-godly king,
Hath Richard duke of York his cause to try;
Who by th' experience of long managing
The wars of France with supreme dignity;
And by his own great worth, with furthering
The common good against the enemy,

Had wrought, that zeal and love attend his might,
And make his spirit equal to his right.

For now the duke of Bedford being dead,
He is ordain'd the regent 10 to succeed
In France, for five years: where he travailed
With ready hand, and with as careful heed,

10 The duke of York made regent in France, after the death of the duke of Bedford.

And yet (as if he had accomplished
Some mighty benefit unto the land)
He got his travails to be regist'red
In parliament, for evermore to stand
A witness to approve all what he did;
To th' end that if hereafter it were scann'd,.
Authority might yet be on his side,
As doing nought but what was ratify'd.

Imagining th' allowance of that place
Would make that good, the which he knew was
naught;

And so would his negotiation grace,

As none might think it was his private fault.
Wherein though wit dealt wary in this case,
Yet in the end itself it over-wrought:

11 Edmund duke of Somerset, a great enemy of the duke of York.

12 This Rayner was duke of Anjou, and only enjoyed the title of king of Sicily.

13 William de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, after created duke of Suffolk, the chiefest instrument in this marriage; which was solemnized anno regni 23, between the king and the lady Margaret, daughter to Rayner duke of Anjou; to whom was delivered up the duchy of Anjou, and the county of Main, upon the conclusion of this match.

Striving to hide, he open'd it the more;
His after-care show'd craft had gone before.

Dear did'st thou buy, O king, so fair a wife,
So rare a spirit, so high a mind the while;
Whose portion was destruction, dowry strife;
Whose bed was sorrow, whose embracing spoil:
Whose maintenance cost thee and thine their life;
And whose best comfort never was but toil.
What Paris brought this booty of desire,
To set our mighty Ilium here on fire?

I grieve I should be forc'd to say thus much,
To blame her, whom I yet must wonder at;
Whose so sweet beauty, wit, and worth were such,
As (though she fortune lost) she glory gat.
Yet doth my country's zeal so nearly touch,
That here my Muse it doth exasperate;
Although unwilling that my pen should give
Stain to that sex, by whom her fame doth live.

For sure those virtues well deserv'd a crown:
And had it not been ours, no doubt she might
Have been among the worthies of renown,
And now sat fair with fame, with glory bright.
But coming in the way where sin was grown
So foul and thick, it was her chance to light
Amidst the gross infection of those times;
And so came stain'd with black, disgraceful crimes.

For some the world must have, on whom to lay The heavy burthen of reproach and blame; Against whose deeds th' afflicted may inveigh, As th' only authors whence destruction came: When yet, perhaps, 't was not in them to stay The current of that stream, nor help the same; But living in the eye of action so,

Not hind'ring it, are thought to draw on woe.

So much unhappy do the mighty stand,
Who stand on other than their own defence,
When as destruction is so near at hand;
That if by weakness, folly, negligence,
They do not coming misery withstand,
They shall be deem'd the authors of th' offence,
And to call in that which they kept not out;
And curs'd,as they who brought those plagues about.

And so remain for ever regist'red

In that eternal book of infamy:
When yet how many other causes led
As well to that as their iniquity?

The worst complots oft lie close smothered:
Aud well-meant deeds fall out unluckily ;
Whilst the aggriev'd stand not to weigh th' intent,
But ever judge according to th' event.

I say not this t' excuse thy sin, O queen,
Nor clear their faults who mighty actors are:
I cannot but affirm thy pride 14 hath been
A special means this commonwealth to mar;
And that thy wayward will was plainly seen
In vain ambition to presume too far:
And that by thee the only way was wrought,
The duke of Gloc'ster to his death was brought:

14 The pride and haughtiness of this queen Margaret, gave the first original to the mischiefs that followed, by the death of Humphrey duke of Glocester, protector.

A man, though seeming in thy thought to sit
Between the light of thy desires and thee;
Yet did his taking thence plainly permit
Others to look to that they could not see
During his life, nor would adventure it:
When his remove quite made that passage free;
That by his fall thinking to stand alone,
Thou scarce could'st stand at all when he was gone,

For this duke (as protector) many years
Had rul'd the land, during the king's young age;
And now the self-same charge and title bears,
As if he still were in his pupilage:
Which such disgrace unto the queen appears,
That (all incens'd with an ambitious rage)
She doth conspire to have him made away,
As one that stay'd the current of her sway.

Thrust thereinto not only with her pride, But by her father's counsel and consent; Who griev'd likewise that any one beside Should have the honour of the government: And therefore he such deep advice apply'd, As foreign craft and cunning could invent, To circumvent an unsuspecting wight, Before he should discern of their despite.

And many ready hands she straight doth find
To aid her deed, of such as could not brook
The length of one man's office in that kind;
Who all th' especial charges undertook,
Rul'd all himself; and never had the mind
T'impart a part with others, who would look
To have likewise some honour in their hands,
And griev❜d at such engrossing of commands.

For had he not had such a greedy love 15
To entertain his offices too long,
Envy had been unable to reprove
His acted life, unless she did him wrong.
But having liv'd so many years above,
He grieves now to descend, to be less strong;
And kills that fame that virtue did beget,
Chose to be held less good, than seen less great.

"For could the mighty but give bounds to pride,
And weigh back Fortune ere she pull them down;
Contented with enough, with honour satisfy'd;
Not striving how to make so much their own,
As to leave nothing for the rest beside;
Who seem by their high spreading overgrown,
Whilst they themselves remain in all men's sight,
The odious mark of hatred and despite :

<< Then never should so many tragedies
Burthen our knowledge with their bloody end:
Nor their disgrac'd, confounded families,
From so high pride to so low shame descend;
But planted on that ground where safety lies,
Their branches should t' eternity extend.
But ever they who overlook so much,
Will oversee themselves, their state is such."

15 Nil tam utile, quàm brevem potestatem esse que magna sit.

Severe he 16 was, and strictly did observe
Due form of justice towards every wight;
Unmoveable, and never won to swerve

For any cause, in what he thought was right:
Wherein although he did so well deserve,
In the licentious yet it bred despite;
"So that ev'n Virtue seems an actor too,
To ruin those Fortune prepares t' undo."

Which quick and sudden action gave no time
For men to weigh the justice of the deed;
Whilst looking only on the urged crime,
Unto the further drift they take no heed.
For these occasions taken in the prime
Of courses new, that old dislikes succeed,
Leave not behind that feeling touch of wrong.
"Satiety makes passions still less strong."

And yet they seem'd some mutiny to doubt,

Hated his might, and glad to innovate;

Unto so great and strong a party grew,
As it was easy to subvert a state:
And only hope of alteration drew

Many to yield, that had no cause to hate.
"For ev'n with goodness men grow discontent,
Where states are ripe to fall, and virtue spent."

And taking all the rule into her hand,
(Under the shadow of that feeble king)
The duke sh' excludes from office and command;
And in the reach of enmity doth bring,
From that respected height where he did stand,
(When Malice scarce durst mutter any thing)
And now the worst of him comes all reveal'd,
Which former fear, or rigour kept conccal'd.

Now is he taxed that he rather sought
His private profit than the public good;
And many things presumptuously had wrought,
Other than with our laws and customs stood:
As one that would into the land have brought
The civil form, in cases touching blood:
And such poor crimes-that show'd their spite was
sound;

But yet bewray'd their matter wanted ground.

Yet serv'd they well the turn, and did effect
That which is easy wrought in such a case;
Where what suborned justice shall object,
Is to the purpose, and must pass with grace;
And what the wretched bring, of no effect;
Whose heinous faults his matter must deface.
"For where pow'r hath decreed to find th' offence,
The cause is better still than the defence."

A parliament at Berry summoned,
Dispatch'd the deed more speedily than well.
For thither came the duke 17 without all dread,
Or ought imagining of what befell:
Where now the matter is so followed,
That he convented is, ere he could tell
He was in danger, or had done offence;
And presently to prison sent from thence.

16 The virtues of Humphrey duke of Glocester. 17 The duke of Glocester coming to this parliament from the castle of the Viez in Wiltshire, was arrested by John lord Beaumont, high constable, the dukes of Buckingham and Somerset, with others; who appointed certain of the king's household to attend upon him: but he died before he was brought to his answer; some say of sorrow, others of a palsy, or an imposthume, an. reg. 25. The duke of Suffolk was a principal instrument in this business.

Consid'ring he was popular and stout,
And resolute would stand upon his right:
And therefore did they cast this way about,
To have him closely murder'd out of sight;
That so his trouble, and his death hereby,
Might come together, and together die.
Reck'ning it better, since his end is meant,
And must be wrought, at once to rid it clear,
And put it to the fortune of th' event,
Than by long doing to be long in fear:
When in such courses of high punishment,
The deed and the attempt like danger bear.
And oft things done (perhaps) do less annoy,
Than may the doing handled with delay.

And so they had it straight accomplished.
For next day after his commitment, he

Is dead brought forth, being found so in his bed;
Which was by sudden sickness said to be,
That had upon his sorrows newly bred,
As by apparent tokens men might see.
"And thus, O Sickness, thou art oft bely'd,
When Death hath many ways to come beside."

Are these the deeds high foreign wits invent?
Is this that wisdom whereof they so boast?
Well;-then I would it never had been spent
Here amongst us, nor brought from out their coast.
Let their vile cunning, in their limits pent,
Remain amongst themselves that like it most:
And let the North (they count of colder blood)
Be held more gross, so it remain more good.

Let them have fairer cities, goodlier soils,
And sweeter fields for beauty to the eye,
So long as they have these ungodly wiles,
Such detestable, vile impiety.

And let us want their vines, their fruits the whiles,
So that we want not faith and honesty.
We care not for those pleasures; so we may
Have better hearts, and stronger hands than they.

Neptune, keep out from thy embraced isle
This foul contagion of iniquity;
Drown all corruptions, coming to defile
Our fair proceedings, order'd formally.
Keep us mere English: let not craft beguile
Honour and justice, with strange subtilty:
Let us not think how that our good can frame,
Which ruin'd hath the authours of the same.

But by this impious means, that worthy man
Is brought unto this lamentable end: -
And now that current with main fury ran
(The stop remov'd that did the course defend)
Unto the full of mischief, that began
T an universal ruin to extend ;
That isthmus failing, which the land did keep
From the entire possession of the deep.