The Fall of George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence, Wrongfully Imprisoned and Murdered

The foule is fowle, men say, that files the nest:
Which makes me loth to speke now, might I chuse,
But seyng time vnburdened hath her brest,
And fame blowne vp the blast of all abuse,
My silence rather might my life accuse
Than shroude our shame, though fayne I would it so,
For truth will out, although the world say no.

And therefore, Baldwine, hartely I thee beseche
To pause a while vpon my heauy playnt,
And vnneth though I vtter speedy speche,
No fault of wit nor folly makes mee faynt:
No heady drinkes haue gieuen my tongue attaint
Through quaffing craft: yet wine my witts confound,
Not of which I dranke, but wherein I drownd.

What prince I am, although I neede not shewe,
Because my wine betrayes mee by the smell:
For neuer creature was soust in Bacchus dew
To death, but I, through fortune’s rigour fell:
Yet that thou maist my story better tell,
I will declare as briefly as I may,
My welth, my woe, and causers of decay.

The famous house surnamde Plantagenet,
Whereat dame fortune frowardly did frowne,
While Bolenbroke vniustly sought to set
His lord king Richard quite beside the crowne,
Though many a day it wanted due renowne,
God so preserved by prouidence and grace,
That lawfull heyres did neuer fayle the race.

For Lionell, king Edwarde’s eldest childe,
Both eame and heyr to Richard yssulesse,
Begot a daughter Phillip, whom vndefilde
The earle of March espousde, and God did blesse
With fruite assinde the kingdom to possesse:
I meane syr Roger Mortimer, whose heyre,
The earle of Cambridge, maried Anne the fayre.

This earle of Cambridge, Richard clept by name,
Was sonne to Edmund Langley duke of Yorke:
Which Edmund was fift brother to the same
Duke Lionell, that all this lyne doth korke:
Of which two howses ioyned in a forke,
My father Richard, prince Plantagenet,
True duke of Yorke, was lawfull heyr beget.

Who tooke to wife as yee shall vnderstand
A mayden of a noble house and olde,
Raulfe Neuil’s daughter, earle of Westmerland,
Whose sonne earle Richard, was a baron bolde,
And had the right of Salisbury in holde,
Through mariage made with good earle Thomas heyre,
Whose earned prayses neuer shall appayre.

The duke my father had by this his wife
Four sonnes, of whom the eldest Edward hight,
The second Eadmund, who [in youth] did loose his life,
At Wakefielde slayne by Clyfford cruell knight:
I George am third, of Clarence duke by right:
The fourth, borne to the mischiefe of vs all,
Was duke of Glocester, whom men did Richard call.

Whan as our sire in sute of right was slaine,
(Whose life and death himselfe declared earst)
My brother Edward plyed his cause amayne,
And got the crowne, as Warwicke hath rehearst:
The pride whereof so deepe his stomacke pearst
That hee forgot his friendes, dispisde his kin,
Of oth or office passing not a pyn.

Which made the earle of Warwicke to maligne
My brother’s state, and to attempt a way
To bring from prison Henry, seely king,
To helpe him to the kingdome if hee may,
And knowing mee to bee the chiefest stay
My brother had, hee did mee vndermine
To cause mee to his treasons to encline.

Whereto I was prepared long before,
My brother had beene to mee so vnkinde:
For sure no cankar fretteth flesh so sore,
As vnkinde dealing doth a louing minde:
Loue’s strongest bandes vnkindnes doth vnbinde,
It moueth loue to malice, zeale to hate,
Chiefe friendes to foes, and brethren to debate.

And though the earle of Warwicke, subtile sire
Perceiude I bare a grudge against my brother,
Yet toward his feate to set mee more on fire,
Hee kindled vp one firebrand with another:
For knowing fancy was the forcing rother
Which stirreth youth to any kinde of strife,
Hee offered mee his daughter to my wife.

Where through, and with his crafty filed tongue,
Hee stale my heart that earst vnsteady was,
For I was witlesse, wanton, fond and yong,
Whole bent to pleasure, brittle as the glasse,
I can not lye, In vino veritas:
I did esteeme the bewty of my bryde
Aboue my selfe, and all the world beside.

These fond affections ioynd with lacke of skill,
(Which trap the heart, and blind the eyes of youth,
And pricke the minde to practise any ill)
So tickled mee, that voyde of kindly truth,
(Which if it want all wretchednes ensueth)
I stinted not to persecute my brother,
Til time hee left his kingdom to another.

Thus carnall loue did quench the loue of kinde,
Till lust were lost through fancy fully fed:
But whan at length I came vnto my minde,
I saw how lewdly lightnes had mee led,
To seeke with payne the perill of my heade:
For had king Henry once beene setled sure,
I was assurde my dayes could not endure.

And therefore, though I bound my selfe with oth
To help king Henry all that euer I might,
Yet at the treaty of my brethren both,
Which reason graunted to require but right:
I left his part, whereby hee perisht quite:
And reconcilde mee to my brethren twayne,
And so came Edward to the crowne agayne.

This made my father in law to fret and fume,
To stamp and stare, and call mee false forsworne,
And at the length with all his power, presume
To help king Henry, vtterly forlorne:
Our friendly proffers still hee tooke in scorne,
Refused peace, and came to Barnet fielde,
And there was kild, because hee would not yeelde.

His brother also there with him was slayne,
Whereby decayed the keyes of chiualrye:
For neuer liu’d the matches of them twayne,
In manhood, power, and martiall pollecy,
In vertuous thewes, and friendly constancy,
That would to God, if it had bene his will,
They might haue tournde to vs and liued still.

But what shalbe, shall bee: there is no choyse,
Thinges needes must driue as desteny decreeth,
For which wee ought in all our haps reioyce,
Because the eye eterne all things foreseeth
Which to no ill at any tyme agreeth,
For ills, to ill to vs, be good to it,
So far his skill’s exceede our reach of wit.

The wounded man which must abyde the smart
Of stitching vp, or searing of his sore,
As thing to bad, reproues the surgeon’s art
Which not withstanding doth his health restore.
The childe likewise to science plied sore,
Counts knowledge ill, his teacher to be wood,
Yet surgery and sciences be good.

But as the pacient’s griefe and scholer’s payne,
Cause them deme bad such things as sure be best,
So want of wisdome causeth vs complaine
Of euery hap, wherby we seme opprest:
The poore doe pine for pelfe, the rich for rest,
And when as losse or sicknesse vs assayle
We curse our fate, our fortune we bewayle.

Yet for our good, God worketh euery thing:
For, through the death of these two noble peres,
My brother liu’d and raynde a quiet king,
Who, had they liued, perchaunce in course of years
Would haue deliuered Henry fro the breres,
Or holpe his sonne t’enioy the carefull crowne,
Wherby our line should haue bene quite put downe.

A carefull crowne it may be iustly named,
Not onely for the cares thereto annext,
To see the subiect well and duly framed,
With which good care few kings are greatly vext,
But for the dred wherwith they are perplext,
Of losing lordship, liberty, or life:
Which wofull wracks in kingdoms happen ryfe.

The which to shun while some to sore haue sought,
They haue not sparde all persons to suspect:
And to destroy such as they gilty thought,
Though no apparaunce proued them infect.
Take me for one of this wrong punisht sect,
Imprisonde first, accused without cause,
And done to death, no processe had by lawes.

Wherin I note how vengeaunce doth acquite
Like yll for yll, how vices vertue quell:
For as my mariage loue did me excite
Agaynst the king my brother to rebell,
So loue to haue his children prosper well,
Prouoked him, agaynst both law and right,
To murder me, his brother, and his knight.

For by his queene two princelyke sonnes he had,
Borne to be punisht for their parent’s synne:
Whose fortunes kalked made the father sad,
Such wofull haps were found to be therin:
Which to auouch, writ in a rotten skin,
A prophesie was found, which sayd, a G
Of Edward’s children should destruction bee.

Mee to bee G, because my name was George,
My brother thought, and therefore did mee hate,
But woe be to the wicked heads that forge
Such doubtfull dreames to breede vnkinde debate:
For God, a gleue, a gibbet, grate, or gate,
A Gray, a Griffeth, or a Gregory,
As well as George, are written with a G.

Such doubtfull riddles are no prophesies:
For prophesies, in writing though obscure,
Are playne in sence, the darke be very lies:
What God foresheweth is euident and pure,
Truth is no harold nor noe sophist sure:
She noteth not men’s names, their shieldes, nor creasts,
Though she compare them vnto byrds and beasts.

But whom she doth forshewe shall rayne by force,
She tearms a wolfe, a dragon, or a beare:
A wilfull prince, a raynlesse ranging horse:
A bold, a lion: a cowarde much in feare,
A hare or harte: a crafty, pricked eare:
A leacherous, a bull, a goate, a foale:
An vndermyner, a moldwarpe, or a mole.

By knowen beastes thus truth doth playne declare
What men they be of whom shee speakes before:
And who so can men’s properties compare
And marke what beast they doe resemble more:
Shall soone discerne who is the griesly bore:
For God by beastes expresseth men’s condicions,
And not theyr badges, haroldes supersticions.

And learned Merlyne, whom God gaue the sprite
To know and vtter princes actes to come,
Like to the Iewish prophets, did recite
In shade of beastes, theyr doings all and some,
Expressing plaine by maners of the dome,
That kinges and lordes such propertyes should haue
As haue the beastes whose name he to them gaue.

Which while the foolish did not well consider,
And seeing princes gaue, for difference
And knowledge of theyr issues mixt together,
All maner beastes for badges of pretence,
There tooke those badges to expresse the sence
Of Merlyne’s minde, and those that gaue the same,
To bee the princes noted by theyr name.

And hereof sprang the false namde prophesies,
That goe by letters, siphers, armes, or sines:
Which all bee foolish, false, and crafty lyes,
Deuisde by gesse, or guiles vntrue deuines:
For whan they saw that many of many lynes
Gaue armes alyke, they wist not which was hee
Whom Merlyne ment the noted beast to bee.

For all the broode of Warwicke’s gaue the beare,
The Buckinghams doe likewise gieue the swan:
But which beare bearer should the lyon teare
They were as wise as Goose the fery man:
Yet in theyr skill they ceased not to scan,
And to bee deemed of the people wise,
Set forth theyr gloses vpon prophesies.

And whome they douted openly to name
They darkely tearmed or by some letter ment,
For so they thought, how euer the world did frame,
Preserue themselues from shame, or being shent:
For, howsoeuer contrary it went,
They might expound their meaning otherwise,
As haps in things should newely still arise.

And thus there grewe of a mistaken truth,
An art so false as made the true suspect:
Whereof hath come much mischiefe, more the ruth
That errours should our mindes so much infect,
True prophets haue fowly beene reiect:
The false, which breede both murder, warre, and strife,
Beleeued to the losse of many a good man’s life.

And therefore, Baldwine, teach men to discerne,
Which prophecies be false and which bee true:
And for a ground this lesson let them learne,
That all bee false which are deuised newe:
The age of thinges are iudged by the hue:
All riddels made by letters, names or armes,
Are yong and false, far worse then witche’s charmes.

I knowe thou musest at this lore of mine,
How I, no studient, should haue learned it:
And dost impute it to the fume of wine
That stirs the tongue, and sharpneth vp the wit:
But harke, a friend did teach mee euery whit,
A man of mine, in all good knowledge rife,
For which hee guiltlesse lost his learned life.

This man abode my seruaunt many a day,
And still in study set his whole delight:
Which taught mee more then I could beare away
Of euery arte: and by his searching sight
Of thinges to come hee would foreshew as right,
As I rehearse the pageants that were past:
Such perfectnes God gaue him at the last.

He knew my brother Richard was the bore,
Whose tuskes should teare my brother’s boyes and me,
And gaue me warning therof long before:
But wyt nor warning can in no degree
Let thinges to hap, which are ordainde to bee:
Witnesse the painted lionesse, which slue
A prince imprisoned, lyons to eschewe.

He told me eke my yoke fellow should dy,
(Wherin would God he had bene no deuyne)
And after her death I should woo earnestly
A spouse, wherat my brother would repine,
And finde the meanes she should be none of mine:
For which such malice should among vs ryse,
As saue my death no treaty should decise.

And as he sayd, so all things came to passe:
For whan king Henry and his sonne were slaine,
And euery broyle so throughly quenched was
That the king my brother quietly did raygne,
I, reconciled to his loue agayne,
In prosperous health did leade a quiet lyfe,
For fiue yeares space with honours laden rife.

And to augment the fulnesse of my blisse,
Two louely children by my wife I had:
But froward hap, whose maner euer is
In chiefest ioy to make the happy sad,
Bemixt my sweete with bitternes too bad:
For while I swam in ioyes on euery side,
My louing wife, my cheifest iewell dyed.

Whose lacke whan sole I had bewaylde a yeare,
The duke of Burgoine’s wife, dame Margarete,
My louing sister willing me to chere,
To mary agayne did kindely me intreate:
And wisht me matched with a mayden nete,
A step daughter of her’s, duke Charles’ hayre,
A noble damsell, yong, discrete and fayre.

To whose desire because I did enclyne,
The king my brother douting my degree
Through prophesies, against vs did repyne,
And at no hand would to our wills agree:
For which such rancoure pearst both him and mee,
That face to face we fell at flat defiaunce,
But were appeased by frends of our aliaunce.

Howbeit my mariage vtterly was dasht:
Wherin because my seruant sayd his minde,
A meane was sought wherby he mought be lasht:
And, for they could no crime agaynst him fynd,
They forgde a fault the people’s eyes to blinde,
And told he should by sorceries pretend
To bring the king vnto a spedy ende.

Of all which poynts he was as innocent
As is the babe that lacketh kindely breth:
And yet condemned by the king’s assent,
Most cruelly put to a shamefull death:
This fierd my hart, as foulder doth the heath:
So that I could not but exclame and cry,
Agaynst so great and open iniury.

For this I was commaunded to the tower,
The king my brother was so cruel harted,
And when my brother Richard saw the hower
Was come, for which his hart so sore had smarted,
He thought it best take time before it parted:
For he endeuoured to attayne the crowne,
From which my life must nedes haue held him downe.

For though the king within a while had died,
As nedes he must, he surfayted so oft,
I must haue had his children in my guyde,
So Richard should besyde the crowne haue coft:
This made him ply the while the wax was soft,
To finde a meane to bring me to an ende,
For realm-rape spareth neyther kin nor frend.

And whan hee sawe how reason can asswage
Through length of time my brother Edward’s ire,
With forged tales hee set him newe in rage,
Till at the last they did my death conspire:
And though my truth sore troubled their desire,
For all the world did knowe mine innocence,
Yet they agreede to charge mee with offence.

And, couertly, within the tower they calde
A quest, to geue such verdite as they should:
Who what with feare and what with fauour thralde,
Durst not pronounce but as my brethren would:
And though my false accusers neuer could
Proue ought they sayd, I guiltlesse was condemned:
Such verdites passe where iustice is contemned.

This feate atchiued, yet could they not for shame
Cause mee bee kild by any common way,
But like a wolfe the tyrant Richard came,
(My brother, nay my butcher I may say)
Unto the tower when all men were away,
Saue such as were prouided for the feate:
Who in this wise did straungely mee entreate.

His purpose was with a prepared string
To strangle mee: but I bestird mee so,
That by no force they could mee therto bring,
Which caused him that purpose to forgo:
Howbeit they bound mee, whether I would or no,
And in a but of malmesey standing by,
Newe christned mee, because I should not cry.

Thus drownde I was, yet for no due desert,
Except the zeale of justice bee a crime:
False prophecies bewitcht king Edward’s hart,
My brother Richard to the crowne would clime:
Note these three causes in thy rufull rime,
And boldly say they did procure my fall,
And death of deaths most straunge and hard of all.

And warne all princes prophecyes to eschue,
That are to darke and doubtfull to be knowen:
What God hath sayd, that cannot but ensue,
Though all the worlde would haue it ouerthrowne:
When men suppose by fetches of theyr owne
To fly theyr fate, they furder on the same,
Like quenching blastes which oft reuiue the flame.

Will princes therefore, not to thinke by murder
They may auoyde what prophecyes behight,
But by theyr meanes, theyr mischiefes they may furder,
And cause God’s vengeaunce heauier to alight:
Woe worth the wretch that striues with God’s foresight:
They are not wise, but wickedly do arre,
Which thinke yll deedes due destenies may barre.

For if wee thinke that prophecyes be true,
We must beleue it cannot but betyde,
Which God in them foresheweth shall ensue,
For his decrees vnchaunged doe abide:
Which to be true my brethren both haue tryed,
Whose wicked warkes warne princes to detest,
That other’s harmes may keepe them better blest.