The Rowley Poems Part 20

Kynge EDWARDE'S soule rush'd to hys face, Hee turn'd hys hedde awaie, And to hys broder GLOUCESTER 335 Hee thus dydd speke and saie:

"To hym that soe-much-dreaded dethe Ne ghastlie terrors brynge, Beholde the manne! hee spake the truthe, Hee's greater thanne a kynge!" 340

"Soe lett hym die!" Duke RICHARD sayde; "And maye echone oure foes Bende downe theyre neckes to bloudie axe, And feede the carryon crowes."

And nowe the horses gentlie drewe 345 Syr CHARLES uppe the hyghe hylle; The axe dydd glysterr ynne the sunne, Hys pretious bloude to spylle.

Syrr CHARLES dydd uppe the scaffold goe, As uppe a gilded carre 350 Of victorye, bye val'rous chiefs Gayn'd ynne the bloudie warre:

And to the people hee dydd saie, "Beholde you see mee dye, For servynge loyally mye kynge, 355 Mye kynge most rightfullie.

"As longe as EDWARDE rules thys lande, Ne quiet you wylle knowe; Youre sonnes and husbandes shalle bee slayne.

And brookes wythe bloude shalle flowe. 360

"You leave youre goode and lawfulle kynge.

Whenne ynne adversitye; Lyke mee, untoe the true cause stycke, And for the true cause dye."

Thenne hee, wyth preestes, uponne hys knees, 365 A pray'r to G.o.dde dydd make, Beseechynge hym unto hymselfe Hys partynge soule to take.

Thenne, kneelynge downe, hee layd hys hedde Most seemlie onne the blocke; 370 Whyche fromme hys bodie fayre at once The able heddes-manne stroke:

And oute the bloude beganne to flowe, And rounde the scaffolde twyne; And teares, enow to washe't awaie, 375 Dydd flowe fromme each mann's eyne.

The bloudie axe hys bodie fayre Ynnto foure parties cutte; And ev'rye parte, and eke hys hedde, Uponne a pole was putte. 380

One parte dydd rotte onne Kynwulph-hylle, One onne the mynster-tower, And one from off the castle-gate The crowen dydd devoure:

The other onne Seyncte Powle's goode gate, 385 A dreery spectacle; Hys hedde was plac'd onne the hyghe crosse, Ynne hyghe-streete most n.o.bile.

Thus was the ende of BAWDIN'S fate: G.o.dde prosper longe oure kynge, 390 And grante hee maye, wyth BAWDIN'S soule, Ynne heav'n G.o.dd's mercie synge!

aeLLA:

A

TRAGYCAL ENTERLUDE,

OR

DISCOORSEYNGE TRAGEDIE,

WROTENN BIE

THOMAS ROWLEIE;

PLAIEDD BEFORE

MASTRE CANYNGE, ATTE HYS HOWSE NEMPTE THE RODDE LODGE;

[ALSOE BEFORE THE DUKE OF NORFOLCK, JOHAN HOWARD.]

PERSONNES REPRESENTEDD.

aeLLA, bie _Thomas Rowleie_, Preeste, the Aucthoure.

CELMONDE, _Johan Iscamm_, Preeste.

HURRA, Syrr _Thybbotte Gorges_, Knyghte.

BIRTHA, Mastre _Edwarde Canynge_.

Odherr Partes bie _Knyghtes Mynstrelles_.

EPISTLE TO MASTRE CANYNGE ON aeLLA.

'Tys songe bie mynstrelles, thatte yn auntyent tym, Whan Reasonn hylt[1] herselfe in cloudes of nyghte, The preeste delyvered alle the lege[2] yn rhym; Lyche peyncted[3] tyltynge speares to please the syghte, The whyche yn yttes felle use doe make moke[4] dere[5], 5 Syke dyd theire auncyante lee deftlie[6] delyghte the eare.

Perchaunce yn Vyrtues gare[7] rhym mote bee thenne, b.u.t.t eefte[8] nowe flyeth to the odher syde; In hallie[9] preeste apperes the ribaudes[10] penne, Inne lithie[11] moncke apperes the barronnes pryde: 10 But rhym wythe somme, as nedere[12] widhout teethe, Make pleasaunce to the sense, botte maie do lyttel scathe[13].

Syr Johne, a knyghte, who hath a barne of lore[14], Kenns[15] Latyn att fyrst syghte from Frenche or Greke, Pyghtethe[16] hys knowlachynge[17] ten yeres or more, 15 To rynge upon the Latynne worde to speke.

Whoever spekethe Englysch ys despysed, The Englysch hym to please moste fyrste be latynized.

Vevyan, a moncke, a good requiem[18] synges; Can preache so wele, eche hynde[19] hys meneynge knowes 20 Albeytte these G.o.de guyfts awaie he flynges, Beeynge as badde yn vea.r.s.e as goode yn prose.

Hee synges of seynctes who dyed for yer G.o.dde, Everych wynter nyghte afresche he sheddes theyr blodde.

To maydens, huswyfes, and unlored[20] dames, 25 Hee redes hys tales of merryment & woe.

Loughe[21] loudlie dynneth[22] from the dolte[23] adrames[24]; He swelles on laudes of fooles, tho' kennes[25] hem soe.

Sommetyme at tragedie theie laughe and synge, At merrie yaped[26] f.a.ge[27] somme hard-drayned water brynge. 30

Yette Vevyan ys ne foole, beyinde[28] hys lynes.

Geofroie makes vea.r.s.e, as handycraftes theyr ware; Wordes wythoute sense fulle grossyngelye[29] he twynes, Cotteynge hys storie off as wythe a sheere; Waytes monthes on nothynge, & hys storie donne, 35 Ne moe you from ytte kenn, than gyf[30] you neere begonne.

Enowe of odhers; of mieselfe to write, Requyrynge whatt I doe notte nowe possess, To you I leave the taske; I kenne your myghte Wyll make mie faultes, mie meynte[31] of faultes, be less. 40 aeLLA wythe thys I sende, and hope that you Wylle from ytte caste awaie, whatte lynes maie be untrue.

Playes made from hallie[32] tales I holde unmeete; Lette somme greate storie of a manne be songe; Whanne, as a manne, we G.o.dde and Jesus treate, 45 In mie pore mynde, we doe the G.o.dhedde wronge.

Botte lette ne wordes, whyche droorie[33] mote ne heare, Bee placed yn the same. Adieu untylle anere[34].