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Ile pawne my landes, the king then cryd,

My sceptre, crowne, and all,
That whatsoere queen Elianor sayes

No harme thereof Ihall fall.



Do thou put on a fryars coat,

And Ile put on another;
And we will to queen


goe Like fryar and his brother.

Thus both attired then they goe:

When they came to Whitehall,
The bells did ring, and the quiristers fing,

And the torches did lighte them all.

When that they came before the queene

They fell on their bended knee;
A boone, a boone, our gracious queene,

That you sent so haftilee.


Are you two fryars of France, the fayd,

As I suppose you bee?
But if you are two Englishe fryars,

You shall hang on the gallowes tree.

We are two fryars of France, they fayd,

As you suppose we bee,
We have not been at any masse

Sith we came from the sea,


The first vile thing that ever I did

I will to you unfolde ;
Earl marshall had my maidenhed,

Beneath this cloth of golde.

Thats a vile fione, then fayd the king;

May God forgive it thee!
Amen, amen, quoth earl marshall;

With a heavye heart spake hee.


The next vile thing that ever I did,

To you lle not denye,
I made a boxe of poyfon strong,

To poison king Henrye.

Thats a vile sinne, then fayd the kings

May God forgive it thee!
Anen, amen, quoth earl marshall ;

And I with it so may bee.

The next vile thing that ever I did,

To you I will discover;
I poysoned fair Rofamonde,

All in fair Woodstocke bower.


Thats a vile sinne, then fayd the king;

May God forgive it thee!
Amen, amen, quoth earl marshall;

And I with it so may bee.

60 Do

Do you see yonders little boye,

A toffing of the balle?
That is earl marshalls eldest sonne,

And I love him the best of all.


Do you see yonders little boye,

A catching of the balle ?
That is king Henryes youngest fonne,

And I love him the worst of all,

His head is fashyon'd like a bull;

His nose is like a boare.
No matter for that, king Henrye cryd,

I love him the better therfore.


The king pulled off his fryars coate,

And appeared all in redde:
She lirieked, and cryd, and wrung her hands, 75

And says she was betrayde.

The king lookt over his left shoulder,

And a grimine look looked hee,
Earl marshall, he sayd, but for my oathe,

Or hanged thou shouldft bee.


V. 63, 67. She means that the eldest of these two was by the earl marshall, the youngest by the king.



This poem, subscribed M. T. (perhaps invertedly for 7. Marshall *j is preserved in The l'aradise of daintie devises, quoted above in page 138.-The two first stanzas may be found accompaniel coith musical notes in " An howres recreation in musicke, &c. by Richard Alison, Lond. 1606, 410:usually bound up with 3 or 4 sets of " Madrigals set to music by Tho. Weelhes, Lond. 1507, 1600, 1608, 4to.” One of these madrigals is so compleat an example of the Bathos, that I cannot forbear presenting it to the reader. Thule, the period of cosmographie,

Doth veunt of Hecla, whose fulphureous fire Doth melt the frozen clime, and thaw the skie,

Trinacrian Etna's flames afcend not hier: These things seeme wondrons, yet more wondrous I, Whole heart with

feare doth freeze, with love doth frj.

The Andelvsian merchant, that returnes

Laden with cutchinele and china dishes, Reports in Spaine, how frangely Fogo burnes

Amidst an ocean full of flying fishes: These things seeme wondrous, yet more wondrous ), Whose heart with feare doth freeze, with love doth fry.

Mr. Weelkes seems to have been of opinion with many of his brethren of later times, that nonsense was beft adapted to display the powers of musical composure.

* Vid. Athen. Oxon. p. 152. 316.


HE Aturdy rock for all his strength

By raging feas is rent in twaine :
The marble stone is pearit at length,

With little drops of drizling rain:
The oxe doth yeeld unto the yoke,
The steele obeyeth the hammer stroke.

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The stately stagge, that seemes so stout,

By yalping hounds at bay is set:
The swiftelt bird, that Aies about,

Is caught at length in fowlers net:
The greatest fish, in deepest brooke,
Is foon deceived by subtill hooke.



Yea inan himselfe, unto whose will

All things are bounden to obey,
For all his wit and worthie skill,

Doth fade at length, and fall away.
There is nothing but time doeth waite;
The heavens, the earth consume at laft.


But vertue fits triumphing still

Upon the throne of glorious fame :
Though spiteful death mans body kill,

Yet hurts he not his vertuous name:
By life or death what so betides,
The state of vertue never slides.




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