He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
WOLSEY'S VICES AND VIRTUES.
Q. Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on hinı!
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity,-He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach1, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one that by suggestion
Tied all the kingdom: simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law: i' the presence2
He would say untruths; and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning; he was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful :
His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water.
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to3 much honour. From his cradle
He was a scholar, and a ripe good one;
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not;
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
And though he were unsatisfied in getting
(Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely. Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning that he raised in you,
Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet, so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little :
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
4 Christ Church College, Oxford.
THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE,
OR OF HOLINESSE.
A GENTLE knight was pricking1 on the plaine,
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine,
The cruel markes of many a bloody fielde;
Yet armes till that time never did he wield;
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield.
Full iolly2 knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.
And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he bore,
And dead, as living, ever him ador'd:
Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,
For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.
Right faithfull, true he was in deed and word;
But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
Yet nothing did he dread but ever was y-drad.^
Upon a great adventure he was bond,
That greatest Gloriana to him gave,
(The greatest glorious Queen of Faery lond),
To winne him worshippe and her grace to have,
Which of all earthly things he most did crave.
And ever as he rode, his heart did earne
To prove his puissance 6 in battel brave
Upon his foe, and his new force to learne;
Upon his foe a Dragon terrible and stearne.
3 Jousts, tournaments. 6 Power, might.
A lovelie ladie rode him faire beside,
Upon a lowly asse more white than snow;
Yet she much whiter; but the same did hide
Under a vele, that wimpled was full low;
And over all a blacke stole shee did throw,
As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,
And heavie sat upon her palfry slow;
Seemed in heart some hidden care she had;
And by her in a line a milk white lambe she led.
pure and innocent, as that same lambe, She was in life and every vertuous lore, And by descent from royal lynage came
Of ancient kings and queenes, that had of yore
Their sceptres stretcht from east to western shore,
And all the world in their subjection held;
Till that infernal feend with foule uprore
Forwasted all their land, and them expelld;
Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far compeld.
Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag,
That lasie seemed, in being ever last,
Or wearied with bearing of her bag
Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,
The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast,
And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine
Did poure into his lemans lap so fast,
That everie wight to shroud it did constrain;
And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain.
Enforst to seek some covert nigh at hand,
A shadie grove not farre away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand;
Whose loftie trees, ycladd with sommers pride,
Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starr;
And all within were pathes and alleies wide
With footing worne, and leading inward farr:
Faire harbour that them seems1; so in they entred are.
And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,
Joing to heare the birdes sweete harmony,
Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred,
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.
Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy,
The sayling pine; the cedar proud and tall;
The vine-propp elme; the poplar never dry;
The builder oake, sole king of forrests all;
The aspine, good for staves; the cypress funerall.
The laurel, meed of mightie conquerors
And poets sage; the ferre that weepeth still;
The willow, worne of forlorne paramours;
The eugh, obedient to the benders will;
The birch for shaftes; the sallow for the mill;
The mirrhe sweet bleeding in the bitter wound;
The warlike beech; the ash for nothing ill;
The fruitful olive, and the platane round;
The carver holme; the maple, seldom inward sound.
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
Untill the blustring storm is overblowne;
When weening to returne whence they did stray,
They cannot find that path which first was showne,
But wander too and fro in waies unknowne,
Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt their wits be not their owne:
So many paths, so many turnings seene,
That which of them to take in diverse doubt they been.
At last resolving forward still to fare,
Till that same end they finde or in or out,
That path they take, that beaten seemed most bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about;
Which when by trod they hunted had throughout,
At length it brought them to a hollow cave
Amid the thickest woods. The champion stout
Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave,
And to the dwarfe awhile his needless spere he gave.
"Be well aware," quoth then that ladie milde,
"Leaste suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke :
The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde,
Breedes dreadful doubts: oft fire is without smoke,
And peril without show; therefore your stroke,
Sir Knight, withhold, till further tryall made."
“Oh, Ladie,” said he, "shame were to revoke
The forward footing for an hidden shade:
Vertue gives herselfe light through darkness for to wade."
"Yea, but," quoth she, "the perill of this place
I better wot than you: though nowe too late
To wishe you backe returne with foule desgrace;
Yet wisdome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,
To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.
This is the Wandring Wood, this Errours Den,
A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:
Therefore I reed beware." "Fly, fly," quoth then
The fearfull dwarfe; "this is no place for living men.”
The knight having given way to temptation, is represented as a penitent in the house of religion.
What man is he that boasts of fleshly might,
And vaine assurance of mortality,
Which, all so soone as it doth come to fight
Against spirituall foes, yields by and by,
Or from the fielde most cowardly doth fly!
Ne let the man ascribe it to the skill,
That thorough grace hath gained victory:
If any strength we have, it is the ill;
But all the good is Gods, both power and eke the will.
By that which lately hapned, Una saw
That this her knight was feeble and too faint;
And all his sinews waxen weak and raw,
Through long emprisonment and hard constraint,
Which he endured in his late restraint,
That yet he was unfitt for bloody fight.
Therefore, to cherish him with diets daint,
She cast to bring him, where he chearen might,
Till he recovered had his late decayed plight.
There was an auncient house not far away,
Renowned throughout the world for sacred lore
And pure unspotted life; so well, they say,
It governed was, and guided evermore,
Through wisdome of a matrone grave and hore;
Whose only ioy was to relieve the needes
Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpless pore:
All night she spent in bidding of her bedes,
And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.
1 Offering prayers, — to bid, to pray, is an old Saxon word.
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