The Fall of Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Banished by King Richard the Second

Though sorrowe and shame abash mee to rehearse
My lothsome life, and death of due deserued,
Yet that the paynes thereof may other pearce
To leaue the like, leaste they bee likewise serued,
Ah Baldwine, marke, and se how that I swerued:
Dissembling, enuy, and flattery, bane that bee
Of all their hostes, haue shewde their power on mee.

I blame not fortune, though shee did her parte,
And true it is shee can doe litle harme:
Shee guideth goodes, shee hampreth not the hart,
A minde well bent, is safe from euery charme:
Vice, only vice, with her stout strengthlesse arme,
Doth cause the harte from good to ill encline,
Which I, alas, doe finde to true by mine.

For where by birth I came of noble race,
The Mowbrey’s heyre, a famous house and old,
Fortune I thanke, gaue mee so good a grace,
That of my prince I had what so I would:
Yet neyther was to other greately hold,
For I through flattery abusde his wanton youth,
And his fond trust augmented my vntruth.

Hee made mee first the earle of Notyngham,
And marshall of the realme, in which estate
The peeres and people ioyntly to mee came,
With sore complaint against them, that of late
Made officers, had brought the king in hate,
By making sale of justice, right and lawe,
And liuing naught, without all dread or awe.

I gaue them ayde these euills to redresse,
And went to London with an army strong,
And caused the king, agaynst his will oppresse
By cruell death, all such as led him wrong:
The lord chiefe justice suffered these among,
So did the steward of his household head,
The chauncellour scapte, for hee aforehand fled.

These wicked men thus from the king remoued,
Who best vs pleased succeeded in their place:
For which both king and commons much vs loued,
But chiefly I with all stoode high in grace:
The king ensued my rede in euery case,
Whence selfe-loue bred: for glory maketh proude,
And pride aye looketh alone to bee allowde.

Wherefore to th’end I might alone enioy
The king’s good will, I made his lust my lawe:
And where of late I laboured to distroy
Such flattering folke, as thereto stoode in awe,
Now learned I among the rest to clawe:
For pride is such, if it bee kindely caught,
As stroyeth good, and stirreth vppe euery naught.

Pride pricketh men to flatter for the pray,
T’oppresse and poll for maintnaunce of the same,
To malice such as match vnethes it may:
And to bee briefe, pride doth the harte enflame,
To fyre what mischiefe any fraude may frame,
And euer at length the euyls by it wrought
Confound the worker, and bring him vnto nought.

Behold in mee due proofe of euery part:
For pride first forced mee my prince to flatter
So much that whatsoeuer pleased his harte
Were it neuer so euill, I thought a lawfull matter,
Which causde the lordes afreshe agaynst him clatter:
Because hee had his holdes beyond sea solde,
And seene his souldiers of theyr wages polde.

Though all these ils were done by mine assent,
Yet such was lucke that each man deemed no:
For see, the duke of Glocester for mee sent,
With other lordes, whose hartes did bleede for woe,
To see the realme so fast to ruin goe:
In fault whereof, they sayd the two dukes were,
The one of Yorke, the other [of] Lancaster.

On whose remoue fro being about the king
Wee all agreed, and sware a solemne oth,
And whilst the rest prouided for this thing,
I, flatterer I, to winne the prayse of troth,
Wretch that I was, brake fayth and promise both,
For I bewrayed to th’king theyr whole intent,
For which vnwares they all were tane and shent.

Thus was the warder of the common weale
The duke of Glocester giltlesse made away,
With other moe, more wretch I so to deale,
Who through vntruth theyr trust did ill betray:
Yet by this meanes obtayned I my pray,
Of king and dukes I found for this such fauour,
As made mee duke of Northfolke for my labour.

But see how pride and enuy ioyntly runne,
Because my prince did more than mee prefer,
Sir Henry Bolenbroke, the eldest sonne
Of Iohn of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster,
Proud I, that would alone bee blasing starre,
Enuyde this duke for naught saue that the shyne
Of his desertes did glister more than mine.

To th’end therefore his light should bee the lesse,
I sliely sought all shiftes to put him out:
But as the poyze that would the palme tree presse
Doth cause the bowes sprede larger rounde about,
So spite and enuy causeth glory sprout,
And aye the more the top is ouertrode,
The deeper doth the sound roote sprede abroade.

For when this Henry duke of Hereforde sawe,
What spoyle the king made of the noble bloud,
And that without all justice, cause, or lawe:
To suffer him so hee thought not sure, nor good,
Wherefore to mee, twofaced in one hood,
As touching this, hee fully brake his minde,
As to his friend that should remedy finde.

But I, although I knewe my prince did ill,
So that my harte abhorred sore the same,
Yet mischiefe so through malice led my will,
To bring this duke from honour vnto shame,
And toward my selfe, my soueraygne to enflame:
That I bewrayed his wordes vnto the king,
Not as a reade, but as a [most] haynous thing.

Thus where my duty bound mee to haue tolde
The prince his fault, and wil’d him to refrayne,
Through flattery loe, I did his ill vpholde,
Which turnde at length both him and mee to payne:
Woe, woe to kinges, whose counsaylours doe fayne,
Woe, woe to realmes, where such are put in trust
As leaue the lawe, to serue the prince’s lust.

And woe to him that by his flattering reede,
Mayntaynes a prince in any kind of vice:
Woe worth him eke for enuy, pride, or meede,
That misreportes any honest enterprise:
Because I beast in all these poynts was nice,
The plagues of all together on mee light,
And due for ill, doers doth acquite.

For when the duke was charged with my plaint,
Hee flat denyde that any part was true,
And claymde by armes to aunswere his attaynt,
And I by vse that warlyke feates well knewe,
To his desire incontinently drewe:
Wherewith the king did seeme right well content,
As one that past not much with whome it went.

At time and place apoynted wee appearde,
At all poynts armde to proue our quarells iust,
And when our friends on each part had vs chear’d,
And that the herolds bad vs doe our lust,
With speare in rest wee tooke a course to iust:
But ere our horses had run halfe their way,
A shout was made, the king commaunded stay.

And for t’auoyde the sheeding of our bloud
With shame and death, which one must needes haue had,
The king through counsayle of the lordes thought good
To banishe both, which iudgement strayt was rad:
No maruayle then though both were wroth and sad,
But chiefly I, that was exilde for aye,
My enmy straungde but for a ten yeares day.

The date expirde, whan by this doulfull dome
I should depart to liue in banisht land,
On paine of death to England not to come,
I went my way: the king seasde in his hand
Myne offices, my honours, goods, and land,
To pay the due (as openly hee tolde)
Of mighty summes, which I had from him polde.

See, Baldwine, see, the salary of sinne,
Marke with what meede vile vices are rewarded:
Through [pride and] enuy I lose both kith and kinne,
And for my flattering playnt so well regarded,
Exile and slaunder are iustly mee awarded:
My wife and heire lacke lands and lawfull right,
And me their lord made dame Dianae’s knight.

If these mishaps at home bee not enough,
Adioyne to them my sorowes in exile:
I went to Almayne first, a land right roughe,
In which I found such churlish folke and vile,
As made mee loeth my life ech other while:
There lo, I learned what [it] is to bee a gest
Abroade, and what to liue at home in rest.

For they esteeme no one man more than eche,
They vse as well the lackey as the lorde,
And like theyr maners churlishe in theyr speeche,
Theyr lodging harde, theyr bourd to bee abhord:
Theyr pleited garments therewith well accord,
All iagde and frounst, with diuers colours deckt,
They swere, they curse, and drinke, till they be fleckt.

They hate all such as these theyr maners hate,
Which reason would no wiseman should allowe,
With these I dwelt, lamenting mine estate,
Till at the length they had got knowledge, howe
I was exilde, because I did avow
A false complaynt against my trusty friende,
For which they namde me traytour, still vnhende.

That what for shame and what for werines
I stale fro thence, and went to Venise towne,
Where as I found more ease and friendlines,
But greater griefe: for now the great renowne
Of Bolenbroke, whom I would haue put downe,
Was waxt so great in Britayne and in Fraunce,
That Venise through, eche man did him auaunce.

Thus lo, his glory grewe through great despite,
And I thereby encreased in defame:
Thus enuy euer doth her most acquite
With trouble, anguish, sorrow, smart, and shame,
But sets the vertues of her foe in flame:
Like water waues which clense the muddy stone,
And soyles themselues by beating thereupon.

Or eare I had soiournd there a yeare,
Straunge tidinges came hee was to England gone,
Had tane the king, and that which touched him neare,
Imprisoned him with other of his fone,
And made him yeelde him vp his crowne, and throne:
When I these thinges for true by search had tryed,
Griefe gript mee so, I pinde away and dyed.

Note here the end of pride, see flatteries fine,
Marke the rewarde of enuy and [false] complaynt,
And warne all people from them to decline,
Lest likely fault doe finde the like attaynt:
Let this my life to them bee a restraynt:
By other’s harmes who listeth take no heede,
Shall by his owne learne other better reede.