The Fall of Lord Cromwell, Brought to an Untimely End by the Envy of the Bishop of Winchester

“Wak’d, and trembling betwixt rage and dread
With the loud slander (by the impious time)
That of my actions euery where is spread,
Through which to honor falsely I should clime,
From the sad dwelling of th’vntimely dead,
To quit me of that execrable crime,
Cromwell appeares his wretched plight to show,
Much that can tell, one much that once did know.

Roughly not made vp in the common mould,
That with the vulgar vilely I should die,
What thing so strange of Cromwell is not told?
What man more prais’d? who more condemn’d then I?
That with the world when I am waxed old,
Most t’were vnfit that fame of me should lie
With fables vaine my historie to fill,
Forcing my good, excusing of my ill.

You, that but hearing of my hated name,
Your ancient malice instantly bewray,
And for my sake your ill deserued blame
Vpon my legend publikely shall lay:
Would you forbeare to blast me with defame,
Might I so meane a priuiledge but pray,
He that three ages hath endur’d your wrong,
Heare him a little that hath heard you long.

Since Rome’s sad ruine heere by me began,
Who her religion pluckt vp by the root,
Of the false world such hate for which I wan,
Which still at me her poisned’st darts doth shoot:
That to excuse it, do the best I can,
Little, I feare, my labour me will boot:
Yet will I speake my troubled heart to ease,
Much to the mind, her selfe it is to please.

O powerfull number, from whose stricter law
Heart-mouing musicke did receiue the ground
Which men to faire ciuilitie did draw
With the brute beast when lawlesse he was found:
O, if according to the wiser saw
There be a high diuinitie in sound,
Be now abundant prosp’rously to aide
The pen prepar’d my doubtfull case to pleade.

Putney the place made blessed in my birth,
Whose meanest cottage simplie me did shrowd,
To me as dearest of the English earth:
So of my bringing that poore village prou’d,
Though in a time when neuer lesse the dearth
Of happie wits, yet mine so well allow’d
That with the best she boldly durst confer
Him that his breath acknowledged from her.

Twice flow’d proud Thames, as at my comming wood,
Striking the wondring borderers with feare,
And the pale genius of that aged flood
Vnto my mother labouring did appeare,
And with a countenance much distracted stood,
Threatning the fruit her pained wombe should beare:
My speedie birth being added thereunto,
Seem’d to foretell that much I came to do.

That was reserued for those worser daies,
As the great ebbe vnto so long a flow,
When what those ages formerly did raise,
This, when I liu’d, did lastly ouerthrow,
And that great’st labour of the world did seaze,
Only for which immedicable blow
Due to that time, me dooming heauen ordain’d,
Wherein confusion absolutely raign’d.

Vainly yet noted this prodigious signe,
Often predictions of most fearefull things,
As plagues, or warre, or great men to decline,
Rising of commons, or the death of kings:
But some strange newes though euer it diuine,
Yet forth them not immediatly it brings,
Vntill th’effects men afterward did learne,
To know that me it chiefly did concerne.

Whil’st yet my father by his painfull trade,
Whose laboured anuile only was his fee,
Whom my great towardnesse strongly did perswade
In knowledge to haue educated mee:
But death did him vnluckily inuade,
Ere he the fruits of his desire could see,
Leauing me yong, then little that did know
How me the heauens had purpos’d to bestow.

Hopelesse as helpelesse most might me suppose,
Whose meannesse seem’d their abiect breath to draw:
Yet did my breast that glorious fire inclose,
Which their dull purblind ignorance not saw,
Which still is setled vpon outward showes,
The vulgar’s iudgement euer is so raw,
Which the vnworthiest sottishly do loue
In their owne region properly that moue.

Yet me my fortune so could not disguise,
But through this cloud were some that did me know,
Which then the rest more happie or more wise,
Me did relieue when I was driuen low,
Which, as the staier, by which I first did rise,
When to my height I afterward did grow,
Them to requite my bounties were so hie,
As made my fame through euery eare to flie.

That height and godlike puritie of minde
Resteth not still, where titles most adorne
With any, nor peculiarly confinde
To names, and to be limited doth scorne:
Man doth the most degenerate from kinde,
Richest and poorest both alike are borne:
And to be alwaies pertinently good,
Followes not still the greatnes of our blood.

Pitie it is, that to one vertuous man
That marke him lent to gentrie to aduance,
Which first by noble industrie he wan,
His baser issue after should inhance,
And the rude slaue not any good that can,
Such should thrust downe by what is his by chance:
As had not he been first that him did raise,
Nere had his great heire wrought his grandsire’s praise.

How weake art thou that makest it thy end
To heape such worldly dignities on thee,
When vpon fortune only they depend,
And by her changes gouerned must bee?
Besides the dangers still that such attend,
Liuel’est of all men purtraied out in mee,
When that, for which I hated was of all,
Soon’st from me fled, scarse tarrying for my fall.

You that but boast your ancestors proud stile,
And the large stem whence your vaine greatnes grew,
When you your selues are ignorant and vile,
Nor glorious thing dare actually pursue,
That all good spirits would vtterly exile,
Doubting their worth should else discouer you,
Giuing your selues vnto ignoble things:
Base I proclaime you though deriu’d from kings.

Vertue, but poore, God in this earth doth place
’Gainst the rude world to stand vp in his right,
To suffer sad affliction and disgrace,
Not ceasing to pursue her with despight:
Yet when of all she is accounted base,
And seeming in most miserable plight,
Out of her power new life to her doth take,
Least then dismai’d when all do her forsake.

That is the man of an vndaunted spirit,
For her deare sake that offereth him to dye,
For whom, when him the world doth disinherit,
Looketh vpon it with a pleased eye,
What’s done for vertue thinking it doth merit,
Daring the proudest menaces defie,
More worth then life, how ere the base world rate him,
Belou’d of heauen, although the earth doth hate him.

Iniurious time, vnto the good vniust,
O, how may weake posteritie suppose
Euer to haue their merit from the dust,
’Gainst them thy partialitie that knowes!
To thy report, O, who shall euer trust,
Triumphant arches building vnto those
Allow’d the longest memorie to haue,
That were the most vnworthie of a graue?

But my cleere mettle had that powerfull heat,
As it not turn’d with all that fortune could:
Nor when the world me terriblest did threat,
Could that place win which my hie thoughts did hold,
That waxed still more prosperously great,
The more the world me stroue to haue control’d,
On my owne columnes constantly to stand,
Without the false helpe of another’s hand.

My youthfull course thus wisely did I steere,
T’auoid those rockes my wracke that else did thret:
Yet some faire hopes from farre did still appeere,
If that too much my wants me did not let:
Wherefore my selfe aboue my selfe to beare,
Still as I grew, I knowledge stroue to get,
To perfect that which in the embryon was,
Whose birth, I found, time well might bring to passe.

But when my meanes to faile me I did finde,
My selfe to trauell presently betooke,
As much distastfull to my noble minde,
That the vile world into my wants should looke,
And of my selfe industriously inclinde,
To measure other’s actions with my booke,
I might my iudgement rectifie thereby,
In matters that were difficult and hie.

When, loe, it hapt that fortune, as my guide,
Of me did with such prouidence dispose,
That th’English merchants then, who did reside
At Antwerpe, me their secretarie chose,
(As though in me to manifest her pride)
Whence to those principalities I rose,
To pluck me downe, whence afterward she fear’d
Beyond her power that almost she had rear’d.

When first the wealthie Netherlands me traind
In wise commerce, most proper to the place,
And from my countrie carefully me wain’d,
That with the world did chiefly winne me grace,
Where great experience happily I gaind:
Yet here I seem’d but tutor’d for a space,
For hie imploiment otherwise ordaind,
Till which the time I idely entertaind.

For hauing Boston businesse in hand,
The charge thereof on Chambers being laid,
Coming to Flanders, hapt to vnderstand
Of me, whom he requested him to aid:
Of which, when I the benefit had scand,
Weighing what time at Antwerpe I had staid,
Quickly me wonne faire Italy to trie,
Vnder a cheerefull and more luckie skie:

For what the meanest cleerely makes to shine,
Youth, wit, and courage, all in me concurre
In euery proiect, that so powerfull trine
By whose kind working brauely I did sturre,
Which to each hie and glorious designe
(The time could offer) freely did me spurre,
As forcing fate some new thing to prepare
(Shewing successe) t’attempt that could me dare.

Where now my spirit got roomth it selfe to show,
To the fair’st pitch doth make a gallant flight,
From things that too much earthly were and low,
Strongly attracted by a genuine light,
Where higher still it euery day did grow:
And being in so excellent a plight,
Crau’d but occasion happily to proue
How much it sate each vulgar spirit aboue.

The good successe th’affaires of England found,
Much prais’d the choice of me that had been made:
For where most men the depth durst hardly sound,
I held it nothing boldly through to wade
My selfe, and through the strait’st waies I woond:
So could I act, so well I could perswade,
As meerely iouiall, me to mirth applie,
Compos’d of freedome and alacritie.

Not long it was ere Rome of me did ring
(Hardly shall Rome so full daies see again)
Of freemen’s catches to the pope I sing,
Which wan much licence to my countrimen,
Thither the which I was the first did bring,
That were vnknowne to Italy till then:
Light humours, them when iudgement doth direct,
Euen of the wise win plausible respect.

And those, from whom that pensions were allow’d,
And heere did for intelligence remaine,
Vnder my power themselues were glad to shroud,
Russell and Pace, yea, oftentimes were faine,
When as their names they durst not haue auow’d,
Me into their societie t’retaine,
Rising before me, mightie as they were,
Great though at home, yet did they need me there.

In forraine parts nere friends I yet forsake,
That had before been deeply bound to mee,
And would againe I vse of them should make,
But still my starres command I should be free,
And all those offers lightly from me shake,
Which to requite, I fettred else might bee,
And though that oft great perils me oppungne,
And meanes were weak, my mind was euer strong.

And those great wants fate to my youth did tie
Me from delights of those rich countries driue,
Thereby inforc’d with painfull industrie
Against affliction manfully to striue,
Vnder her burthen faintly not to lie,
But since my good I hardly must deriue,
Vnto the same to make my selfe a way
Through all the power against me she could lay.

As a comedian where my life I led,
For so a while my need did me constraine,
With other my poore countrimen (that plai’d)
Thither that came in hope of better gaine,
Whereas when fortune seem’d me low to tread
Vnder her feet, she set me vp againe,
Vntill the vse me bad her not to feare
Her good and ill that patiently could beare.

Till Charles the fift th’emperiall power did bend
’Gainst Rome, which Burbon skilfully did guide,
Which sore declining Italy did rend:
For th’right that him her holinesse denide,
Wholly her selfe enforced to defend
Gainst him that iustly punished her pride,
To which my selfe I lastly did betake,
Seeing thereof what fortune ment to make.

And at the siege with that great generall seru’d,
When he did girt her stubborne waste with steele,
Within her walles who well neer being staru’d,
And that with faintnes she began to reele,
Shewing her selfe a little as she swaru’d:
First her then noting I began to feele,
She whose great power so far abroad did rome,
What in her selfe she truly was at home.

That the great schoole of the false world was then,
Where her’s their subtill practises did vie,
Amongst that mightie confluence of men,
French plots propt vp by English policie,
The German powers, false shuffling, and agen
All countermin’d by skilfull Italy,
Each one in possibility to win,
Great rests were vp and mightie hands were in.

Here first to worke my busie braine was set,
(My inclination finding it to please
This stirring world which strongly still did whet)
To temper in so dangerous assaies,
Which did strange formes of policies beget:
Besides in times so turbulent as these,
Wherein my studies hopefully did bend
Vnto that point the wisest made their end.

And my experience happily me taught
Into the secrets of those times to see,
From whence to England afterward I brought
Those slights of state deliu’red vnto me,
In t’which were then but very few that sought,
Nor did with th’umour of that age agree,
After did great and fearfull things effect,
Whose secret working few did then suspect.

When though t’were long it hapned yet at last
Some hopes me homeward secretly allur’d,
When many perils strangely I had past,
As many sad calamities endur’d
Beyond the moone, when I began to cast
By my rare parts what place might be procur’d,
If they at home were to the mightie knowne,
How they would seeme compared with their owne.

Or if that there the great should me neglect,
As I the worst that vainely did not feare,
To my experience how to gaine respect
In other countries that doe hold it deare,
And now occasion seemed to reiect,
Whil’st still before me other rising were,
And some themselues had mounted to the skie,
Little before vnlike to thriue as I.

When now in England bigamie with blood
Lately begot by luxurie and pride,
In their great’st fulnes peremptorie stood:
Some thereunto that diligently pri’d,
Stillie were fishing in that troubled flood
For future changes wisely to prouide,
Finding the world so rankly then to swell,
That till it brake it neuer could be well.

But floting long vpon my first arriue,
Whil’st many doubts me seemed to appall,
Like to a barke that with the tide doth driue,
Hauing not left to fasten it withall,
Thus with the time by suffring I doe striue
Vnto that harbor doubtfull yet to fall:
Vntill inforc’d to put it to the chance,
Casting the fair’st my fortune to aduance.

Making my selfe to mightie Wolsey knowne,
That Atlas, which the gouernement vpstai’d,
Which from meane place in little time was growne
Vp vnto him, that weight vpon him lai’d,
And being got the neerest to his throne,
He the more easly the great kingdome swai’d,
Leaning thereon his wearied selfe to breath,
Whil’st euen the greatest farre sat him beneath.

Where learned More and Gardiner I met,
Men in those times immatchable for wit,
Able that were the dullest spirit to whet,
And did my humour excellently fit,
Into their ranke that worthily did get
There as their proud competitor to sit,
One excellence to many is the mother,
Wit doth, as creatures, one beget another.

This founder of the palaces of kings,
Whose veines with more then vsuall spirit were fild,
A man ordained to the mighti’st things,
In Oxford then determining to build
To Christ a colledge, and together brings,
All that thereof the great foundation wills,
There me imploies, whose industrie he found
Worthie to worke vpon the noblest ground.

Yet in the entrance wisely that did feare
Coyne might fall short, yet with this worke on fire,
Wherefore such houses as religious were
Whose being no necessitie require,
But that the greater very well might beare,
From Rome the Card’nall cunningly did hire,
Winning withall his soueraigne to consent,
Both colouring with so holy an intent.

This like a symptome to a long disease
Was the forerunner to this mightie fall,
And but too vnaduisedly did sease
Vpon the part that ruinated all,
Which, had the worke been of so many daies,
And more againe, recouer hardly shall:
But loe, it sunke, which time did long vphold,
Where now it lies euen leueld with the mould.

Thus thou, great Rome, here first wast ouerthrowne
Thy future harmes that blindly couldst not se,
And in this worke they only were thine owne,
Whose knowledge lent that deadly wound to thee,
Which to the world before had they not showne,
Nere had those secrets been descri’d by mee,
Nor by thy wealth so many from the plow
Worne those hie types wherein they florish now.

After when as the cardinall againe
Into hie fauour with the king mee brought,
With whom my selfe so well I did demeane,
As that I seem’d to exercise his thought,
And his great liking strongly did retaine
With what before my master me had taught,
From whose example, by those cels were small,
Sprang the subuersion lastly of them all.

Yet many a let was cast into the way,
Wherein I ran so steddily and right,
And many a snare my aduersaries lay,
Much wrought they with their power, much with their slight,
Wisely perceiuing that my smallest stay
Fully requir’d the vtmost of their might,
To my ascendant hasting me to clime,
There as the first predomining the time.

Knowing what wealth me earnestly did wooe,
Which I through Wolsey hapned had to finde,
And could the path most perfectly vntoo,
The king thereafter earnestly inclin’d,
Seeing besides what after I might doe
If so great power mee fully were assign’d,
By all their meanes against me strongly wrought,
Lab’ring as fast to bring their church to nought.

Whil’st to the king continually I sue,
And in this businesse faithfully did stirre
Strongly t’approue my iudgement to be true
Gainst those who most supposed me to erre,
Nor the least meanes which any way I knew
Might grace me, or my purposes preferre
Did I omit, till wonne I had his eare,
Most that me mark’d, when least he seem’d to heare.

This wound to them thus violently giuen,
Enuie at me her sharpest darts doth roue,
Affecting the supremacie of heauen,
As the first giants warring against Ioue,
Heap’d hils on hils, the gods till they had driuen
The meanest shapes of earthly things to proue:
So must I shift from them against me rose,
Mortall their hate, as mightie were my foes.

But their great force against me wholly bent
Preuail’d vpon my purposes so farre,
That I my ruine scarsely could preuent,
So momentarie worldly fauours are,
That till the vtmost of their spight was spent,
Had not my spirit maintain’d a manly warre,
Risen they had when laid I had been low,
Vpon whose ruine after I did grow.

When the great king their strange reports that tooke
That as pernitious as they potent were,
Which at the faire growth of my fortune strooke,
Whose deadly malice blame me not to feare,
Me at the first so violently shooke,
That they this frame were likely downe to beare,
If resolution with a setled brow
Had not vpheld my peremptorie vow.

Yet these encounters thrust me not awry,
Nor could my courses force me to forsake,
After this shipwrack I againe must trie,
Some happier voiage hopefull still to make,
The plots that barren long we see did lie,
Some fitting season plentifully take,
One fruitfull haruest frankly doth restore
What many winters hindred had before.

That to account I strictly call my wit
How it this while had managed my state,
My soule in counsell summoning to sit,
If possible to turne the course of fate,
For waies there be the greatest things to hit,
If men could find the peremptorie gate,
And since I once was got so neere the brinke
More then before, ’twould grieue me now to sinke.

Bedford, whose life (some said) that I had sau’d
In Italy, one me that sauoured most,
And reuerend Hayles, who but occasion crau’d
To shew his loue, no lesse that I had cost,
Who to the king perceiuing me disgrac’d,
Whose fauour I vnluckily had lost,
Both with him great, a foot set in withall
If not to stay, to qualifie my fall.

High their regard, yet higher was their hap,
Well neere quite sunke, recouer me that could,
And once more get me into fortune’s lap,
Which well my selfe might teach me there to hold,
Escap’d out of so dangerous a trap,
Whose praise by me to ages shall be told,
As the two props by which I only rose,
When most supprest, most trod on by my foes.

This me to vrge the premunire wonne,
Ordain’d in matters dangerous and hie,
In t’which the heedlesse prelacie were runne,
That backe vnto the papacie did flie,
Sworne to that sea, and what before was done
Due to the king, dispensed were thereby,
In t’which first entring offred me the meane
That to throw downe, alreadie that did leane.

This was to me that ouerflowing sourse,
From whence his bounties plentifully spring,
Whose speedie current with vnusuall force
Bare me into the bosome of the king,
By putting him into that readie course
Which soone to passe his purposes might bring,
Where those which late emperiously control’d me
Pale strooke with feare stood trembling to behold me.

When state to me those ceremonies show’d
That to so great a fauorite were due,
And fortune still with honors did me load,
As though no meane she in my rising knew,
Or heauen to me more then to man had ow’d,
(What to the world vnheard of was and new)
And was to other sparing of her store
Till she could giue, or aske I could no more.

Those high preferments he vpon me laid,
Might make the world me publikely to know
Such as in iudgement rightly being wai’d,
Seemed too great for me to vndergo,
Nor could his hand from powring on be stai’d,
Vntill I so abundantly did flow,
That looking downe whence lately I was cloame,
Danger bid feare, if further I should roame.

For first from knighthood rising in degree,
The office of the iewell house my lot,
After the Roles he frankely gaue to mee,
From whence a priuie counsellor I got,
Chose of the garter: and the earle to bee
Of Essex: yet sufficient these not
But to the great vicegerencie I grew,
Being a title as supreame as new.

So well did me these dignities befit,
And honor so me euery way became,
As more then man I had been made for it,
Or as from me it had deriu’d the name:
Where was that man whose loue I not requit
Beyond his owne imaginarie aime,
Which had me succour’d, neerely being driuen,
As things to me that idlely were not giuen?

What tongue so slow the tale shall not report
Of hospitable Friscobald and mee,
And shew in how reciprocall a sort
My thankes did with his courtesie agree,
When as my meanes in Italy were short
That me relieu’d, lesse great that would not bee,
When I of England chancellor was made,
His former bounties librally repai’d?

The maner briefly gentler muse relate,
Since oft before it wisely hath been told,
The sudden change of vnauoided fate,
That famous merchant, reuerend Friscobald,
Grew poore, and the small remnant of his state
Was certaine goods to England he had sold,
Which in the hands of creditors, but bad,
Small hope to get, yet lesser meanes he had.

Hither his wants him forciblie constrain’d,
Though with long trauell both by land and seas,
Led by this hope, that only now remain’d,
Whereon his fortune finally he laies,
And if he found that friendship heere were fain’d,
Yet at the worst it better should him please,
Farre out of sight, to perish heere vnknowne,
Then vnrelieu’d be pitied of his owne.

It chanc’d as I toward Westminster did ride,
’Mongst the great concourse passing to and fro,
An aged man I happily espide,
Whose outward looks much inward griefe did show,
Which made me note him, and the more I ey’d
Him, me thought more precisely I should know,
Reuoluing long, it came into my mind,
This was the man to me had been so kind:

Was therewithall so ioyed with his sight,
(With the deare sight of his so reuerend face)
That I could scarcely keepe me from t’alight,
And in mine armes him openly embrace:
Weighing yet (well) what some imagine might,
He being a stranger, and the publike place
Checkt my affection, till some fitter hower
On him my loue effectually might shower.

“Neuer,” quoth I, “was fortune so vniust
As to do wrong vnto thy noble hart,
What man so wicked could betray the trust
Of one so vpright, of so good desart?
And though obey necessitie thou must,
As when the great’st the same to me thou art,
Let me alone the last be left of all,
That from the rest declin’d not with thy fall.”

And calling to a gentleman of mine,
Wise and discreet that well I knew to bee,
Shew’d him that stranger, whose deiected eyne
Fixt on the earth, nere once lookt vp at mee,
“Bid yonder man come home to me and dine”
Quoth I, “bespeake him reuerently, you see,
Scorne not his habit, little canst thou tell
How rich a mind in those meane rags doth dwell.”

He with my name that kindly did him greete,
Slowly cast vp his deadly-mouing eye,
That long time had been fixed on his feete,
To looke no higher then his miserie,
Thinking him more calamitie did greete,
Or that I had supposed him some spye,
With a deepe sigh that from his heart he drew,
Quoth he: “His will accomplisht be by you.”

My man departed, and the message done,
He whose sad heart with strange impressions strooke,
To thinke vpon this accident begun,
And on himselfe suspitiously to looke,
Into all doubts he fearefully doth run,
Oft himselfe cheering, oft himselfe forsooke:
Strangely perplext vnto my house doth come,
Not knowing why iudg’d, nor dreading yet his doome.

My seruants set his comming to attend,
That were therein not common for their skill,
Whose vsage yet the former did amend:
He hop’d not good, nor guiltie was of ill,
But as a man whose thoughts were at an end:
“Fortune,” quoth he, “then worke on me thy will,
Wiser then man, I thinke, he were that knew
Whence this may come, or what thereof ensue.”

His honored presence so did me enflame,
That though being then in presence of my peeres,
Daine not the lesse to meet him as he came,
(That very hardly could containe my teares)
Kindly salute him, call him by his name,
And oft together aske him how he cheares,
With still along maintaining the extreame:
Yet thought the man he had been in a dreame.

At length t’awake him gently I began
With this demaund, if once he did not know
One Thomas Cromwell, a poore English man
By him relieu’d, when he was driuen low:
When I perceiu’d he my remembrance wan,
Yet with his teares it silently did show:
I wept for woe, to see mine host distrest,
But he for ioy to see his happie guest.

Him to the lords I publisht by my praise,
And at my table carefully him set,
Recounting them the many sundrie waies
I was vnto this gentleman in debt,
How great he was in Florence in those daies,
With all that grace or reuerence him might get:
Which all the while yet silently he heares,
Moisting among his viands with his teares.

And to lend fulnesse lastly to his fate,
Great summes I gaue him, and what was his due
Made knowne, my selfe became his aduocate,
And at my charge his creditors I sue,
Recouering him vnto his former state:
Thus he the world began by me anew,
That shall to all posteritie expresse
His honored bountie, and my thankfulnesse.

But muse recount, before thou further passe,
How this great change so quickly came about,
And what the cause of this sad downefall was,
In euery part the spatious realme throughout,
Being effected in so little space,
Leaue not thereof posteritie to doubt,
That with the world obscured else may bee,
If in this place reuealed not by thee.

If the whole land did on the church relie,
Hauing full power kings to account to call,
That to the world read only policie,
Besides heauen’s keyes to stop or let in all,
Let me but know from her supremacie
How she should come so suddenly to fall:
’Twas more then chance sure put a hand thereto,
That had the power so great a thing to do.

Or ought there were had biding vnder sunne,
Who would haue thought those edifices great,
Which first religion holily begunne,
The church approu’d, and wisdome richly seate,
Deuotion nourish’d, faith allowance wonne,
And all that them might any way compleate,
Should in their ruines lastly buried lie,
But that begun and ended from the skie?

And the king late obedient to her lawes,
Against the clerke of Germany had writ,
As he that first stirr’d in the churche’s cause,
Against him greatliest that oppugned it,
And wan from her so gratefull an applause,
Then in her fauour chiefly that did sit,
That as the prop, whereon she only stai’th,
Him she instil’d Defender of the faith.

But not their power, whose wisdomes them did place
In the first ranke, the oracles of state,
Who that opinion strongly did embrace,
Which through the land receiued was of late,
Then ought at all preuailed in this case,
O powerfull doome of vnauoided fate,
Whose depth not weake mortalitie can know,
Who can vphold what heauen will ouerthrow?

When time now vniuersally did show
The power to her peculiarly annex’d,
With most abundance then when she did flow,
Yet euery hower still prosp’rously she wex’d,
But the world poore did by loose riots grow,
Which serued as an excellent pretext,
And colour gaue to plucke her from her pride,
Whose only greatnesse suffred none beside.

Likewise to that posteritie did doubt,
Those at the first not rightly did adore,
Their fathers that too credulous deuout
Vnto the church contributed their store,
And to recouer only went about
What their great zeale had lauished before,
On her a strong hand violently lai’d,
Preying on that they gaue for to be prai’d.

And now the king set in a course so right,
Which I for him laboriously had tract,
(Who, till I learn’d him, did not know his might)
I still to prompt his power with me to act,
Into those secrets got so deepe a sight,
That nothing lastly to his furtherance lackt,
And by example plainly to him showne,
How all might now be easly ouerthrowne.

In taking downe yet of this goodly frame
He suddenly not brake off euery band,
But tooke the power first from the papall name,
After, a while let the religion stand,
When limbe by limbe he daily did it lame,
First tooke a leg, and after tooke a hand,
Till the poore semblance of a bodie left,
But all should stay it, vtterly bereft.

For if some abbey hapned void to fall
By death of him that the superiour was,
Gaine, that did first church libertie enthrall,
Only supreame, promoted to the place,
’Mongst many bad, the worst most times of all,
Vnder the colour of some other’s grace,
That by the slander, from his life should spring,
Into contempt it more and more might bring.

This time from heauen when by the secret course,
Dissension vniuersally began,
(Preuailing as a planetarie sourse)
I’th’church belieuing, as Mahumitan,
When Luther first did those opinions nurse,
Much from great Rome in little space that wan,
It to this change so aptly did dispose,
From whose sad ruine ours so great arose.

That heere that fabrique vtterly did faile,
Which powerfull fate had limited to time,
By whose strong law it naturally must quaile,
From that proud height to which it long did clime,
Letting ’gainst it the contrarie preuaile,
Therein to punish some notorious crime,
For which at length iust dooming heauen decreed,
That on her buildings ruine heere should feed.

Th’authoritie vpon her she did take,
And vse thereof in euery little thing,
Finding her selfe how oft she did forsake,
In her owne bounds her neuer limiting,
That awfull feare and due obedience brake
Which her reputed holinesse did bring,
From slight regard soone brought her into hate
With those that much disliked her estate.

And that those parts she cunningly had plai’d,
Beliefe vnto her miracles to win,
Vnto the world were euery day bewrai’d,
From which the doubt did of her power begin,
Damnation yet to question what she said,
Made most suspect the faith they had been in,
When their saluation easly might be bought,
Found not this yet the way that they had sought.

When those ill humours ripened to a head,
Bred by the ranknesse of the plentious land,
And they not only strangely from her fled,
Bound for her ancient libertie to stand,
But what their fathers gaue her being dead,
The sonnes rap’d from her with a violent hand,
And those her buildings most of all abus’d,
That with the waight their father’s coffins bruis’d.

The wisest and most prouident but build,
For time againe too wastfully destroy,
The costly piles and monuments we guild,
Succeeding time shall reckon but a toy,
Vicissitude impartially wil’d,
The goodliest things be subiect to annoy,
And what one age did studiously maintaine,
The next againe accounteth vile and vaine.

Yet time doth tell, in some things they did erre,
That put their helpe her brauery to deface,
When as the wealth, that taken was from her,
Others soone raised, that did them displace,
Their titles and their offices conferre
On such before, as were obscure and base,
Who would with her they likewise downe should go,
And o’rthrew them that her did ouerthrow.

And th’Romish rites, that with a cleerer sight
The wisest thought they iustly did reiect,
They after saw that the receiued light,
Not altogether free was from defect,
Mysterious things being not conceiued right,
Thereof bred in the ignorant neglect,
For in opinion something short doth fall,
Wants there haue been, and shall be still in all.

But negligent securitie and ease
Vnbridled sensualitie begat,
That only sought his appetite to please,
As in the midst it of abundance sat,
The church not willing others should her praise
That she was leane, when as her lands were fat,
Her selfe to too much libertie did giue,
Which some perceiu’d that in those times did liue.

Pierce the wise plowman, in his vision saw
Conscience sore hurt, yet sorer was affraid
The seuen great sins to hell him like to draw,
And to wise clergie mainly cri’d for aid:
Falne ere he wist, whom perill much did awe,
On vncleane priests whil’st faintly he him staid,
Willing good clergie t’ease his wretched case,
Whom these strong giants hotly had in chase.

Clergie call’d friers, which neere at hand did dwell,
And them requests to take in hand the cure,
But for their leechcraft that they could not well,
He listed not their dressing to endure,
When in his eare need softly him did tell
(And of his knowledge more did him assure)
They came for gain, their end which they did make,
For which on them the charge of soules they take.

And voluntarie pouertie profest,
By food of angels seeming as to liue:
But yet with them th’accounted were the best
That most to their fraternitie doe giue,
And beyond number that they were increas’d:
“If so,” quoth Conscience, “thee may I beleeue,
Then t’is in vaine more on them to bestow,
If beyond number like they be to grow.”

The frier soone feeling Conscience had him found,
And hearing how hypocrisie did thriue,
That many teachers euery where did wound,
For which Contriton miserably did grieue:
Now in deceit to shew himselfe profound,
His former hopes yet lastly so reuiue
Gets the pope’s letters, whereof he doth shape
Him a disguise from conscience to escape.

And so towards goodly vnitie he goes,
A strong-built castle standing very hie,
Where Conscience liu’d to keepe him from his foes,
Whom, lest some watchfull centinell should spie,
And him vnto the garrison disclose,
His cowle about him carefully doth tie,
Creepes to the gate, and closely thereat beate,
As one that entrance gladly would intreate.

Peace, the good porter, readie still at hand,
It doth vnpin, and praies him God to saue,
And after saluing, kindly, doth demand
What was his will, or who he there would haue?
The frier low lowting, crossing with his hand,
“T’speak with Contrition (quoth he) I would craue.”
“Father (quoth peace) your comming is in vaine,
For him of late hypocrisie hath slaine.”

“God shield:” (quoth he) and turning vp the eyes,
“To former health I hope him to restore,
For in my skill his sound recouerie lies,
Doubt not thereof if setting God before:”
“Are you a surgeon?” Peace againe replies:
“Yea (quoth the frier) and sent to heale his sore:”
“Come neere (quoth Peace) and God your comming speed,
Neuer of help contrition hath more need.”

And for more haste he haleth in the frier,
And his lord conscience quickly of him told,
Who entertain’d him with right friendly cheere:
“O sir (quoth he) intreate you that I could
To lend your hand vnto my cosin deare
Contrition, whom a sore disease doth hold,
That wounded by hypocrisie of late,
Now lieth in most desperate estate.”

“Sir (quoth the frier) I hope him soone to cure,
Which to your comfort quickly you shall see,
Will he a while my dressing but endure?”
And to Contrition therewith commeth hee,
And by faire speech himselfe of him assure,
But first of all going thorough for his fee:
Which done, quoth he: “If outwardly you show
Sound, ’tnot auailes if inwardly or no.”

But secretly assoiling of his sin,
No other med’cine will vnto him lay,
Saying, that heauen his siluer him should win,
And to giue friers was better then to pray,
So he were shrieu’d what need he care a pin?
Thus with his patient he so long did play,
Vntill Contrition had forgot to weepe:
This the wise plowman shew’d me from his sleepe.

He saw their faults, that loosly liued then,
Others againe our weaknesses shall see:
For this is sure, he bideth not with men
That shall know all to be what they should bee:
Yet let the faithfull and industrious pen
Haue the due merit: but returne to mee,
Whose fall this while blind fortune did deuise,
To be as strange as strangely I did rise.

Those secret foes yet subt’ly to deceiue,
That me maligning lifted at my state,
The king to marry forward still I heaue,
(His former wife being repudiate)
To Anne, the sister of the duke of Cleaue,
The German princes to confederate,
To backe me still ’gainst those against me lay,
Which as their owne retain’d me here in pay.

Which my destruction principally wrought,
When afterward, abandoning her bed,
Which to his will to passe could not be brought,
So long as yet I beare about my head,
The only man her safetie that had sought,
Of her againe and only fauoured,
Which was the cause he hasted to my end,
Vpon whose fall her’s likewise did depend.

For in his high distemp’rature of blood
Who was so great, whose life he did regard?
Or what was it that his desires withstood
He not inuested, were it nere so hard?
Nor held he me so absolutely good,
That though I crost him, yet I should be spar’d,
But with those things I lastly was to go,
Which he to ground did violently throw.

When Winchester, with all those enemies,
Whom my much power from audience had debarr’d,
The longer time their mischiefes to deuise,
Feeling with me how lastly now it far’d,
When I had done the king that did suffice,
Lastly, thrust in against me to be heard,
When all was ill contrarily turn’d good,
Making amaine to th’shedding of my blood.

And that the king his action doth deny,
And on my guilt doth altogether lay,
Hauing his riot satisfied thereby,
Seemes not to know how I therein did sway,
What late was truth conuerted heresie:
When he in me had purchased his pray,
Himselfe to cleere and satisfie the sin,
Leaues me but late his instrument therein.

Those lawes I made, my selfe alone to please,
To giue me power more freely to my will,
Euen to my equals hurtfull sundrie waies,
(Forced to things that most do say were ill)
Vpon me now as violently ceaze,
By which I lastly perisht by my skill,
On mine owne necke returning (as my due)
That heauie yoke wherein by me they drew.

My greatnesse threatned by ill-boding eyes,
My actions strangely censured of all,
Yet in my way my giddines not sees
The pit, wherein I likely was to fall:
O were the sweets of man’s felicities
Often amongst not temp’red with some gall,
He would forget by his ore weening skill,
Iust heauen aboue doth censure good and ill.

Things ouer rancke do neuer kindly beare,
As in the corne, the fluxure when we see
Fills but the straw, when it should feed the eare,
Rotting that time in ripening it should bee,
And being once downe it selfe can neuer reare:
With vs well doth this similie agree,
(By the wise man) due to the great in all,
By their owne weight being broken in their fall.

Selfe-louing man what sooner doth abuse,
And more then his prosperitie doth wound?
Into the deepe but fall how can he chuse
That ouer-strides whereon his foot to ground?
Who sparingly prosperitie doth vse,
And to himselfe doth after-ill propound,
Vnto his height who happily doth clime,
Sits aboue fortune, and controlleth time.

Not chusing that vs most delight doth bring,
And most that by the generall breath is freed,
Wooing that suffrage, but the vertuous thing,
Which in it selfe is excellent indeed,
Of which the depth and perfect managing
Amongst the most, but few there be that heed,
Affecting that agreeing with their blood,
Seldome enduring, neuer yet was good.

But whil’st we striue too suddenly to rise
By flattring princes with a seruill tong,
And being soothers to their tyrannies,
Worke out more woes by what doth many wrong,
And vnto others tending iniuries,
Vnto our selues it hapneth oft among,
In our own snares vnluckily are caught,
Whil’st our attempts fall instantly to naught.

The counsell chamber place of my arrest,
Where chiefe I was, when greatest was the store,
And had my speeches noted of the best,
That did them as hie oracles adore:
“A parliament was lastly my enquest,
That was my selfe a parliament before,
The Tower-hill scaffold last I did ascend:”
Thus the great’st man of England made his end.”