The Fall of Sir Anthony Woodville, Lord Rivers and Scales, Cruelly Murdered

As seely suiters letted by delayes
To shew their prince the meaning of their minde,
That long haue bought their brokers yeas and nays,
And neuer the nyer, doe dayly wayte to finde
The prince’s grace, from waighty affaires vntwind:
Which time attaynde, by attending all the yeare,
The weried prince will than no suyters heare:

My case was such not many dayes agoe,
For, after bruite had blazed all abroade,
That Baldwine, through the ayde of other moe,
Of fame or shame fall’n princes would vnloade,
Out from our graues wee got without abode,
And preaced forward with the ruefull rout,
That sought to haue their doinges boulted out.

But whan I had long tended for my turne
To tell my tale, as diuers other did,
In hope I should no longer while soiourne,
But from my suites haue speedely ben ryd,
Whan course and place both orderly had bid
Mee shewe my minde, and I preparde to say,
The hearers pausde, arose, and went their way.

These doubtfull doings draue mee to my dumpes,
Uncertaine what should moue them so to doe:
I feared least affections lothly lumpes
Or inward grudge had driuen them thereto,
Whose wicked stinges all storyes truth vndoe,
Oft causing good to bee reported ill,
Or drownd in suds of Læthe’s muddy swill.

For hitherto slye wryters wily wits,
Which haue engrossed princes chiefe affayres,
Haue bene like horses snaffled with the bits
Of fancy, feare, or doubts full deepe dispayres,
Whose raynes enchained to the cheifest chayres,
Haue so bene straynde of those that bare the stroke
That truth was forste to chow or els to choke.

This caused such as lothed lowd to ly,
To passe with silence sundry princes lyues:
Lesse fault it is to leaue, then leade awry,
And better dround, then euer bound in gyues:
For fatall fraud this world so fondly driues,
That whatsoeuer writer’s braines may brue
Bee it neuer so false, at length is tane for true.

What harme may hap by help of lying pennes,
How written lies may lewdely bee mayntainde,
The lothly rites, the diuilishe ydoll dennes,
With guiltlesse bloud of vertuous men bestaynde,
Is such a proofe as all good hartes haue plainde,
The taly groundes of stories throughly tries,
The death of martyrs vengeaunce on it cries.

Far better therefore not to write at all,
Than staine the truth, for any maner cause,
For this they meane to let my story fall,
(Thought I) and ere my time theyr volume clause:
But after I knew it only was a pause
Made purposely, most for the reader’s ease,
Assure thee, Baldwine, highly it did mee please.

For freshest wits I know will sone be weary,
In reading long what euer booke it bee,
Except it bee vaine matter, strange, or mery,
Well sauste with lies, and glared all with glee,
With which because no graue truth may agree,
The closest stile for stories is the meetest,
In rufull moanes the shortest fourme is sweetest.

And sith the playnts already by thee pende,
Are briefe inough, the nomber also small,
The tediousnesse I thinke doth none offend,
Saue such as haue no lust to learne at all:
Regard none such, no matter what they brall,
Warne thou the wary least they hap to stumble,
As for the carelesse, care not what they mumble.

My life is such as (if thou note it well)
May cause the witty wealthy to beware:
For their sakes therefore playnly will I tell,
How false and cumbrous worldly honours are,
How cankred foes bring carelesse folke to care,
How tyrauntes suffered and not queld in time,
Doe cut theyr throates that suffer them to clime.

Neither will I hyde the chiefest point of all
Which wisest rulers least of all regarde,
That was and will bee cause of many a fall:
This cannot bee too earnestly declarde
Because it is so seeld, and slackly harde,
The abuse and scorning of God’s ordinaunces,
Is chiefest cause of care and woefull chaunces.

God’s holy orders highly are abused
Whan men doe chaunge their ends for straunge respects:
They scorned are, whan they bee cleane refused,
For that they cannot serue our fond affects:
The one our shame, the other our sinne detects:
It is a shame for christians to abuse them,
But deadly sinne for scorners to refuse them.

I meane not this al onely of degrees
Ordainde by God for people’s preseruation,
But of his lawe, good orders, and decrees,
Prouided for his creature’s conseruation:
And specially the state of procreation,
Wherein wee here the number of them encrease,
Which shall in heauen enioy eternall peace.

The only end why God ordayned this,
Was for th’ encreasing of that blessed nombre
For whom hee had preparde eternall blisse:
They that refuse it for the care or cumbre,
Being apt thereto, are in a sinfull slumbre:
No fond respect, no vayne devised vowes,
Can quit or bar what God in charge allowes.

“It is not good for man to liue alone:”
Sayd God, and therfore made he him a make:
“Sole life,” sayd Christ, “is graunted few or none,
All seede sheders are bound like wiues to take:”
Yet not for lust, for landes, or riches sake,
But to beget and foster so theyr fruite,
That heauen and earth be stored with the suite.

But as this state is damnably refused,
Of many apt and able thereunto,
So is it likewise wickedly abused
Of all that vse it as they should not doe:
Wherein are guilty all the greedy, who
For gayne, for friendship, landes, or honoures wed,
And these pollute the vndefiled bed.

And therefore God, through iustice cannot cease
To plague these faults with sundry sortes of whips:
As disagreement, health’s, or welth’s decrease,
Or lothing sore the neuer liked lips:
Disdayne also with rigour some times nips
Presuming mates, vnequally that match:
Some bitter leauen sowers the musty batch.

We worldly folke account him very wise
That hath the wit most welthely to wed:
By all meanes therefore, alwayes, wee deuise
To see our yssue rich in spousals sped:
Wee buy and sell rich orphanes, babes scant bred
Must mary, ere they know what mariage meanes,
Boyes mary old trots, old fooles wed yong queanes.

Wee call this wedding, which, in any wise,
Can bee no mariage, but pollution playne:
A new found trade of humane marchaundise,
The deuil’s net, a filthy fleshly gayne,
Of kinde and nature an vnnaturall stayne,
A fowle abuse of God’s most holy order,
And yet allowde almost in euery border.

Would God I were the last that shall haue cause
Agaynst this creping cankar to complayne,
That men would so regard theyr maker’s lawes,
That all would leaue the lewdenes of theyr brayne,
That holy orders holy might remayne,
That our respects in wedding should not choke
The end and fruite of God’s most holy yoke.

The sage king Solon, after that hee sawe
What mischiefs follow missought mariages,
To barre all baits, established this lawe:
No friend nor father shall gieue herytages,
Coyne, cattell, stuffe, or other cariages,
With any mayde for dowry, or wedding sale,
By any meane, on paine of banning bale.

Had this good law in England beene in force,
My father had not so cruelly beene slaine,
My brother had not causles lost his corps,
Our mariage had not bred vs such disdayne,
My selfe had lackt great part of greuous payne:
We wedded wiues for dignity and landes,
And left our liues in enuie’s bloudy handes.

My father hight syr Richard Woduile, hee
Espousde the duches of Bedford, and by her
Had yssue males my brother Iohn, and mee
Calde Anthony: king Edward did prefer
Us farre aboue the state wherein wee were,
For hee espousde our sister Elizabeth,
Whom syr Iohn Gray made wydow by his death.

How glad were wee, thinke you, of this alyaunce?
So neerely coupled with so noble a king:
Who durst with any of vs bee at defiaunce
Thus made of might the mightyest to wring?
But fye, what cares doe highest honoures bring?
What carelesnes our selues or frendes to knowe?
What spyte and enuy both of high and lowe?

Because the king had made our sister queene,
It was his honour to prefer her kin:
And sith the redyest way, as wisest weene,
Was first by wedding welthy heyres to win,
It pleasde the prince by like meane to begin:
To mee hee gaue the rich lord Scales his heyre,
A vertuous mayde, in my minde very fayre.

Hee ioyned to my brother Iohn, the olde
Duches of Northfolke notable of fame:
My nephue Thomas (who had in his holde
The honour and right of marquise Dorcet’s name)
Espoused Cicelie, a right welthy dame,
Lord Bonuile’s heyre: by whome hee was possest
In all the rightes where through that house was blest.

The honours that my father attaynd were diuers,
First Chamberlayne, then constable hee was:
I doe omit the gaynfullest, earle Riuers:
Thus glistred wee to glory, clere as glasse:
Such miracles can princes bring to passe
Among theyr lieges, whom they minde to heaue
To honours false, who all theyr gestes deceiue.

Honoures are like that cruell king of Thrace,
With new come gestes that fed his hungry horses:
Or like the tyrant Busiris, whose grace
Offred his gods all straungers strangled corses:
To forreyners so hard false honor’s force is,
That all her bourders, straungers, eyther geastes,
She spoyles to feede her gods and greedy beastes.

Her gods be those whom God by law, or lot,
Or kinde by byrth, doth place in highest roumes,
Her beastes bee such as greedely haue got
Office, or charge, to guide the seely gromes:
These officers in law, or charge, are bromes
That sweepe away the sweete from simple wretches,
And spoyle th’enriched by theyr crafty fetches.

These plucke downe those whome princes set aloft,
By wresting lawes, and false conspiracyes:
Yea kings themselues by these are spoyled oft,
When wilfull princes carelesly despise
To heare th’oppressed people’s heauy cryes,
Nor will correct theyr polling theues, then God
Doth make those reues the reckles princes’ rod.

The second Richard is a proofe of this,
Whom crafty lawyers by theyr lawes deposed:
Another patern good king Henry is,
Whose right by them hath diuersly beene glosed,
Good while hee grew, bad whan hee was vnrosed:
And as they fodred these and diuers other,
With like deceit they vsde the king my brother.

While he preuayled they sayde hee owed the crowne,
All lawes and rightes agreed with the same:
But whan by driftes hee seemed to be downe,
All lawes and right extremely did him blame,
Nought saue vsurping traytour was his name:
So constantly the judges construe lawes,
That all agree still with the stronger cause.

These, as I sayde, and other like in charge
Are honour’s horses, whom shee feedes with gests:
For all whom princes frankly doe enlarge
With dignityes, these barke at in theyr brests,
Theyr spite, theyr might, theyr falsehoode neuer restes
Till they deuour them, sparing neyther bloud,
Ne lim, ne life, and all to get theyr good.

The earle of Warwicke was a praunsing courser,
The hawty heart of his could beare no mate:
Our welth through him waxt many a time the worser,
So cankardly hee had our kin in hate:
Hee troubled oft the kinge’s vnsteady state,
And that because hee would not bee his warde
To wed and worke, as hee should list awarde.

Hee spited vs because wee were preferde
By mariage to dignityes so greate,
But craftely his malice hee deferde,
Till, traytorously, he found meanes to entreate
Our brother of Clarence to assist his feate:
Whom when hee had by mariage to him bound,
Than wrought he straight our linage to confound.

Through slaunderous brutes he brued many a broyle
Throughout the realme, against the king my brother:
And raysed trayterous rebels thirsting spoyle
To murder men: of whom among all other
One Robin of Riddesdale many a soule did smother,
His rascall rable at my father wroth
Tooke sire and sonne, and quicke beheaded both.

This heynous act, although the king detested,
Yet was hee fayne to pardon, for the rout
Of rebels all the realme so sore infested,
That euery way assaylde, he stoode in doubt:
And though he were of courage high and stout,
Yet hee assayde by fayre meanes to asswage
His enemies ire, reueilde by rebels rage.

But Warwicke was not pacified thus,
His constant rancour causeles was extreme,
No meane could serue the quarell to discus,
Till hee had driuen the king out of the realme:
Neyther would hee then be waked from his dreame:
For when my brother was come and placed agayne,
He stinted not till hee was stoutly slaine.

Then grewe the king and realme to quiet rest,
Our flocke and frends still stying higher and higher:
The queene with children fruitfully was blest,
I gouernd them, it was the king’s desier:
This set theyr vncles furiously on fier,
That wee, the queene’s bloud, were assignde to gouerne
The prince, not they, the king’s owne bloud and bretherne.

This causde the duke of Clarence so to chafe,
That with the king hee brainlesse fell at bate:
The counsaile warely for to kepe him safe
From raising tumults, as he did of late,
Imprisoned him: where through his brother’s hate
He was condemnde, and murdered in such sort
As he himselfe hath truly made report.

“Was none abhorde these mischiefs more then I,
Yet coulde I not bee therewith discontented,
Considering that his rancoure toucht mee ny:
Els would my conscience neuer haue consented
To wish him harme, could he haue beene contented:
But feare of hurt, for sauegard of our state,
Doth cause more mischiefe then desert or hate.”

Such is the state that many wish to beare,
That eyther wee must with other’s bloud bee stainde,
Or leade our liues continually in feare:
You mounting myndes behold here what is gaynde
By coumbrous honour, painfully attainde:
A damned soule for murdring them that hate you,
Or doubtfull lyfe, in daunger lest they mate you.

The cause, I thinke, why some of high degree
Doe deadly hate all sekers to ascend,
Is this: the cloyne contented cannot bee
With any state, till tyme hee apprehend
The highest top, for therto clymers tend:
Which seldome is attaynd without the wracke
Of those betwene, that stay and beare him backe.

To saue themselues they therfore are compeld
To hate such climers, and with wit and power
To compasse meanes where through they may bee queld,
Ere they ascend their honours to deuour:
This causde the duke of Clarence frowne and lowre
At mee and other, whom the king promoted
To dignities: wherin he madly doted.

For seing wee were his deare allied frends,
Our furderaunce should rather haue made him glad,
Then, enmy like, to wish our wofull ends,
Wee were the nerest kinsfolke that he had:
Wee ioyed with him, his sorrowe made vs sad,
But hee esteemde so much his paynted sheath,
That he disdaynd the loue of all beneath.

But see how sharply God reuengeth sinne:
As hee maligned mee, and many other
His faithfull friends, and kindest of his kin,
So Richard, duke of Glocester, his very brother,
Maligned him, and beastly did him smother:
A deuelish deede, a most vnkindly part,
Yet iust reuenge for his vnnaturall hart.

Although this brother-queller, tirant fell,
Enuide our state as much and more then hee:
Yet did his cloaking flattery so excell
To all our frendes ward, chiefly vnto mee,
That hee appeard our trusty stay to bee:
For outwardly hee wrought our stay to furder,
Where inwardly he mynded nought saue murder.

Thus in appearaunce who but I was blest?
The chiefest honors heaped on my head,
Belou’d of all, enioying quiet rest:
The forward prince by mee alone was led,
A noble impe, to all good vertues bred:
The king, my liege, without my counsaile knowne,
Agreed nought: though wisest were his owne.

But quiet blisse in no state lasteth long
Assailed still by mischief many wayes:
Whose spoyling battry glowing hote and strong,
No flowing welth, no force nor wisdom staies,
Her smoakles poulder beaten souldiers slaies:
By open force, foule mischief oft preuailes,
By secret sleight, shee seeld her purpose failes.

The king was bent too much to foolish pleasure,
In banqueting he had so greate delight:
This made him grow in grosnes out of mesure,
Which as it kindleth carnall appetite,
So quencheth it the liuelynes of the sprite:
Whereof ensue such sicknes and diseases,
As none can cure, saue death, that all displeases.

Through this fault furdered by his brother’s fraud,
(Now God forgeiue me if I iudge amisse)
Or through that beast, his ribald, or his baud,
That larded still these sinfull lusts of his,
He sodainely forsooke all worldly blisse:
That loathed leach, that neuer welcome death,
Through spasmous humours stopped vp his breath.

That time lay I at Ludloe, Wales his border,
For, with the prince, the king had sent me thyther
To stay the robberies, spoyle, and foule disorder,
Of diuers outlawes gathered there together:
Whose banding tended no man wist well whither,
When these by wisdome safely were suppressed,
Came wofull newes, our souerayne was deceassed.

The griefe whereof, when reason had asswaged,
Because the prince remayned in my guyde,
For his defence great store of men I waged:
Doubting the stormes which at such tyme betyde:
But while I there thus warely did prouide,
Commaundement came to send them home agayne,
And bring the king thence with his houshold trayne.

This charge sent from the counsell and the queene,
Though much agaynst my mynde I beast obayed:
The deuill himselfe wrought all the drift I weene,
Because he would haue innocents betrayed:
For ere the king were halfe his way conuayed,
A sort of traytors falsly him betrapt,
I caught afore, and close in prison clapt.

The duke of Glocester, that incarnate deuill,
Confedred with the duke of Buckingham,
With eke lord Hastings, hasty both to euill,
To meete the king in mourning habit came,
(A cruell wolfe though clothed like a lambe)
And at Northampton, where as then I bayted,
They tooke theire inne, as they on mee had wayted.

The king that night at Stonystratford lay,
A towne to small to harboure all his trayne:
This was the cause why he was gone away,
While I with other did behinde remaine:
But will yow see how falsly frendes can faine?
Not Synon sly, whose fraude best fame rebukes,
Was halfe so suttle as these double dukes.

First to myne inne commeth in my brother false,
Embraceth me: “Well met, good brother Scales:”
And weepes withall, the other me enhalse
With, “welcome cosin, now welcome out of Wales:
O happy day, for now all stormy gales
Of strife and rancour, vtterly are swaged,
And we your owne to liue, or dye, vnwaged.”

This proferd seruice, saust with salutations
Immoderate, might cause me to suspect:
For, commonly, in all dissimulations,
Th’xcesse of glauering doth the guile detect:
Reason refuseth falsehode to dyrect:
The will therfore, for feare of being spied,
Exceedeth meane, because it wanteth guyde.

This is the cause why such as fayne to weepe
Doe howle outright, or wayling cry, ah, ah,
Tearing themselues, and straining sighes most deepe:
Why such dissemblers as would seeme to laugh,
Breth not tihhee, but bray out, hah, hah, hah:
Why beggers fayning brauery are the prowd’st
Why cowards bragging boldnesse, wrangle lowd’st.

For commonly all that doe counterfayte
In any thing, exceede the naturall meane,
And that for feare of fayling in their feate:
But these conspirers couched all so cleane,
Through close demeanour, that their wyles did weane
My hart from doubts, so many a false deuice,
They forged fresh, to hyde their enterprise.

They supt with mee, propounding frendly talke
Of our affayres, still geuing mee the prayse:
And euer among the cups to mee ward walke:
“I drinke to you, good cuz:” each traytoure saies:
Our banquet done, when they should goe their wayes
They tooke their leaue, oft wishing mee good night,
As hartely as any creature might.

A noble heart they say is lyon like,
It can not couch, dissemble, crouch, nor fayne,
How villanous were these, and how vnlike?
Of noble stocke the most ignoble stayne:
Their woluish hearts, their trayterous foxly braine,
Or proue them base, of rascall race engendred,
Or from hault lynage, bastard like, degendred.

Such polling heades as prayse for prudent pollicy
False practises, I wish were pact on poales:
I mean the bastard law broode, which can molifie
All kinde of causes in their crafty noales:
These vndermine all vertue, blinde as moales,
They bolster wrong, they racke and straine the right
And prayse for lawe both malice, fraud, and might.

These quenche the worthy flames of noble kynde,
Prouoking best borne to the basest vices:
Through crafts they make the bouldest courage blind,
Disliking highly valiant enterprises,
And praysing vily, villanous deuices:
These make the bore a hog, the bull an oxe,
The swan a goose, the lyon a wolfe or foxe.

The lawyer Catesby, and his crafty feeres,
A rout that nere did good in any reame,
Are they that had transformde these noble peeres:
They turnde theire bloud to melancholicke fleume,
Their courage hault to cowardise extreame,
Their force and manhoode, into fraud and malice,
Their wit to wyles, stout Hector into Paris.

These glauerers gone, my selfe to rest I layde,
And doubting nothing, soundly fell a sleepe:
But sodainly my seruaunts, sore afrayde,
Awaked me, and drawing sighes full deepe:
“Alas,” quoth one, “my lord wee are betrayde:”
“How so,” quoth I, “the dukes are gone their waies?”
“Th’haue barde the gates, and borne away the kayes.”

While he thus spake, there came into my minde
This fearefull dreame, whereout I waked was:
I saw a riuer stopt with stormes of winde,
Wheare through a swan, a bull, and bore did passe,
Fraunching the fysh and fry, with teath of brasse,
The riuer dryde vp saue a title streame,
Which at the last did water all the reame.

Me thought this streame did drowne the cruell bore
In litle space, it grew so deepe and brode:
But hee had kilde the bull and swan before:
Besides all this I sawe an ougly tode
Crall towarde mee, on which mee thought I trode:
But what became of her, or what of mee,
My sodayne waking woulde not let mee see.

These dreames considered with this sodayne newes
So diuers from theyr doings ouer night,
Did cause me not a litle for to muse,
I blest me, and rise in all the hast I might:
By this, Aurora spred abroade the light,
Which fro the endes of Phebus beames she tooke,
Who than the bulls cheife gallery forsooke.

Whan I had opened the window to looke out,
There might I see the stretes ech where beset,
My inne on each side compassed about
With armed watchmen, all escapes to let:
Thus had these Neroes caught me in their net,
But to what ende I could not throughly gesse,
Such was my plainnes, such their doublenesse.

My conscience was so clere, I could not doubt
Their deadly drift, which lesse apparaunt lay,
Because they causde their men retourne the rout
That rode toward Stonystratford, as they say,
Because the dukes will first be there to day:
For this (thought I) they hinder me in iest,
For giltlesse myndes doe easel deeme the best.

By this the dukes were come into myne inne,
For they were lodged in an other by:
I gote mee to them, thinking it a sinne
Within my chamber cowardly to lye:
And merily I asked my brother, why
He vsde me so? he sterne, in euill sadnes,
Cryed out: “I arrest thee, traytour, for thy badnes.”

“How so,” quoth I, “whence riseth your suspition?”
“Thou art a traytour,” quoth he, “I thee arrest:”
“Arrest,” quoth I, “why, where is your commission?”
Hee drew his weapon, so did all the rest,
Crying, “yeeld thee traytour:” I so sore distrest
Made no resistaunce, but was sent to warde,
None saue their seruants assigned to my garde.

This done they sped them to the king in post,
And after theyr humble reuerence to him done,
They trayterously began to rule the rost,
They pickt a quarrell to my sister’s sonne
Lord Richard Gray: the king would not bee wonne
T’agree to them, yet they, agaynst all reason,
Arested him, they sayd, for haynous treason.

Sir Thomas Vaughan and sir Richard Hault
Two worthy knights, were likewise apprehended,
These all were guylty in one kind of fault,
They would not like the practise then pretended:
And seeyng the king was herewith sore offended,
Backe to Northampton they brought him agayne,
And thence discharged most part of his trayne.

There, loe! duke Richard made himselfe protector
Of king and realme, by open proclamation,
Though neyther king nor queene were his elector,
Thus hee presumde by lawles vsurpation:
But will you see his deepe dissimulation?
Hee sent mee a dish of daynties from his bourde
That day, and with it, this false friendly worde:

“Commend mee to him, all things shalbe well,
I am his friend, bid him bee of good chere:”
These newes I prayed the messenger goe tell
My nephue Richard, whom I lou’d full dere:
But what hee ment by well, now shall you here,
Hee thought it well to haue vs quickly murdred,
Which not long after thorowly hee furdred.

For strayt from thence wee closely were conuayed,
From iayle to iayle northward, wee wist not whither:
Where, after a while wee had in sunder stayed,
At last wee met at Pomfret altogither:
Sir Richard Ratcliffe bade vs welcom thyther,
Who openly, all law and right contemned,
Beheaded vs, before wee were condemned.

My cosin Richard could not bee content
To leaue his lyfe, because hee wist not why:
Good gentleman, that neuer harme had ment,
Therefore hee asked wherefore hee should dye:
The priest, his ghostly father, did replye,
With weeping eyes: “I knowe one wofull cause,
The realme hath neyther righteous lords nor laws.”

Sir Thomas Vaughan chafing, cryed still:
“This tyrant Glocester is the gracelesse G,
That will his brother’s children beastly kyll:”
And, least the people through his talke might see
The mischeifs toward, and thereto not agree,
Our tormentour, that false periured knight,
Bad stop our mouths, with words of high dispight.

Thus dyed wee giltlesse, processe hard wee none,
No cause alleagde, no judge, nor yet accuser,
No quest empaneld passed vs vppon:
That murdrer Ratcliffe, law and rights refuser,
Did all to flatter Richard his abuser:
Unhappy both that euer they were borne,
Through giltlesse bloud that haue their soules forlorne.

In part, I graunt, I well deserued this,
Because I causde not spedy execution
Bee done on Richard, for that murder of his,
When first hee wrought king Henrie’s close confusion:
Not for his brother’s hatefull persecution:
These cruell murders painfull death deserued,
Which had hee suffred, many had ben preserued.

Warne therefore all that charge or office beare,
To see all murdrers spedely executed,
And spare them not for fauour or for feare,
By guiltles bloud the earth remaines polluted:
For lacke of justice kingdomes are transmuted:
They that saue murdrers from deserued paine
Shall, through those murdrers, miserably bee slaine.