Yet I by night am troubled in my dreams,
That I do see thee toss'd in dangerous streams;
And oft-times shipwreck'd, cast upon the land,"
And lying breathless on the queachy sand:
And oft in visions see thee in the night,
Where thou at sea maintain'st a dangerous fight,
And with thy proved target and thy sword,
Beat'st back the pirate which would come aboard.
Yet be not angry, that I warn thee thus,
"The truest love is most suspicious."
Sorrow doth utter what it still doth grieve:
But hope forbids us sorrow to believe;
And in my counsel yet this comfort is,
It cannot hurt, although I think amiss.
Then live in hope, in triumph to return,
When clearer days shall leave in clouds to mourn.
But so hath sorrow girt my soul about,
That that word hope (methinks) comes slowly out:
The reason is, I know it here would rest,
Where it might still behold thee in my breast.
Farewell, sweet Pool, fain more I would indite,
But that my tears do blot what I do write.

ANNOTATIONS OF THE CHRONICLE HISTORY.

(') Or brings in Burgoin to aid Lancaster. Philip, duke of Burgoin, and his son, were always great favourites of the house of Lancaster: howbeit they often dissembled both with Lancaster and York.

(2) Who in the North our lawful claim commends,

To win us credit with our valiant friends?

The chief lords of the north parts, in the time of Henry the Sixth, withstood the duke of York at his rising, giving him two great overthrows.

(') To that allegiance York was bound by oath, To Henry's heirs, for safety of us both; No longer now he means record shall bear it, He will with Heav'n dispense, and will unswear it. The duke of York, at the death of Henry the Fifth, and at this king's coronation, took his oath to be true subject to him and his heirs for ever: but afterwards dispensing therewith, claimed the crown, as his rightful and proper inheritance. (*) If three sons fail, she'll make the fourth a king.

The duke of York had four sons: Edward earl of March, that afterwards was duke of York, and king of England, when he had deposed Henry the Sixth; and Edmond earl of Rutland, slain by the lord Clifford at the battle at Wakefield: and George duke of Clarence, that was murdered in the tower; and Richard duke of Gloucester, who was (after he had murdered his brother's sons) king, by the name of Richard the Third.

(") He that's so like his dam, her youngest Dick, That foul ill-favour'd crook-back'd stigmatic, &c. Till this verse, As though begot an age, &c.

This Richard (whom ironically she calls Dick) that by treason, after the murther of his nephews, obtained the crown, was a man low of stature, crook'd-back'd, the left shoulder much higher than the right, and of a very crabbed and sour countenance. His mother could not be delivered of him; he was born toothed, and with his feet forward, contrary to the course of nature,

(") To over-shadow our vermilion rose.

The red rose was the badge of Lancaster, and the white rose of York; which, by the marriage of Henry the Seventh with Elizabeth, indubitate heir of the house of York, were happily united.

(") Or who will muzzle that unruly bear? The earl of Warwick, the setter up and puller down of kings, gave for his arms the white bear rampant, and the ragged staff.

(*) My daisy flower, which erst perfum'd the air, Which for my favour princes deign'd to wear, Now in the dust lies, &c.

The daisy in French is called Margarite, which was queen Margaret's badge: wherewithal the nobility and chivalry of the land at her first arrival were so delighted, that they wore it in their hats, in token of honour.

(") And who be stars, but Warwick's bearded staves? The ragged or bearded staff, was a part of the arms belonging to the earldom of Warwick.

(10) Sland'ring duke Rayner with base beggary. Rayner, duke of Anjou, called himself king of Naples, Sicily, and Jerusalem, who had neither inheritance, nor received any tribute from those parts; and was not able at the marriage of the queen, at his own charges, to send her into England, though he gave no dower with her which, by the dutchess of Gloucester, was often in disgrace cast in her teeth.

(22) A Kentish rebel, a base upstart groom.

This was Jack Cade, who caused the Kentish men to rebel in the eight and twentieth year of king Henry the Sixth.

(13) And this is he the white rose must prefer, By Clarence' daughter match'd to Mortimer. This Jack Cade, instructed by the duke of York, pretended to be descended from Mortimer, who married lady Philip, daughter to the duke

of Clarence.

(1) And makes us weak, by strengthening Ireland.

The duke of York being made deputy of Ireland, first there began to practise his long pretended purpose, and strengthening himself by all means possible, that he might at his return into England, by open war claim that which so long before he had privily gone about to obtain.

(15) Great Winchester untimely is deceas'd.

Henry Beauford, bishop and cardinal of Winchester, son to John of Gaunt, begot in his age, was a proud and ambitious prelate, favouring mightily the queen and the duke of Suffolk, continually heaping up innumerable treasure, in hope to have been pope, as himself an his death-bed confessed.

(16) With France t' upbraid the valiant Somerset.

Edmond, duke of Somerset, in the four-andtwentieth year of Henry the Sixth, was made regent of France, and sent into Normandy to defend the English territories against the French invasions: but in short time he lost all that king Henry

EDWARD IV. TO MRS. SHORE.

THE ARGUMENT.

Edward the Fourth, bewitch'd with the report
Of mistress Shore, resounded thro' his court,
Steals to the city in a strange disguise,
To view that beauty, whose transpiercing eyes
Had shot so many: which did so content
The amorous king, that instantly he sent
These lines to her, whose graces did allure him;
Whose answer back doth of her love assure him.

To thee, the fair'st that ever breath'd this air,
(1) From English Edward, to thee fairest fair;
Ah, would to God thy title were no more,
That no remembrance might remain of Shore,
To countermand a monarch's high desire,
And bar mine eyes of what they most admire !
O, why should fortune make the city proud,
To give that more, than is the court allow'd?
Where they (like wretches) hoard it up to spare,
And do engross it, as they do their ware.

When fame first blaz'd thy beauty here in court,
Mine ear repuls'd it, as a light report:
But when mine eyes saw what mine ear had heard,
They thought report too niggardly had spar'd;
And strucken dumb with wonder, did but mutter,
Conceiving more than it had words to utter.
Then think of what thy husband is possest,
When I malign the wealth wherewith he's blest;
"When much abundance makes the needy mad,
Who having all, yet knows not what is had:
Into fools' bosoms this good fortune creeps,
And sums come in, whilst the base miser sleeps."
If now thy beauty be of such esteem,
Which all of so rare excellency deem;
What would it be, and prized at what rate,
Were it adorned with a kingly state?
Which being now but in so mean a bed,
Is like an uncut diamond in lead,
Ere it be set in some high-prized ring,
Or garnished with rich enamelling;
We see the beauty of the stone is spilt,
Wanting the gracious ornament of gilt.

(2) When first attracted by thy heavenly eyes,
I came to see thee in a strange disguise.
Passing thy shop, thy husband call'd me back,
Demanding what rare jewel I did lack.

I want, thought I, one that I dare not crave,
And one, I fear, thou wilt not let me have,

But yet I knew he had one jewel more,
And deadly curst him, that he did deny it,
That I might not for love or money by it.
O, might I come a diamond to buy,
That had but such a lustre as thine eye,
Would not my treasure serve, my crown should
If any jewel could be prized so!
[go,
An agat, branched with thy blushing strains;
A saphir, but so azur'd as thy veins;

My kingly sceptre only should redeem it,
At such a price if judgment could esteem it.
How fond and senseless be those strangers then,
Who bring in toys, to please the Englishmen ?
I smile to think how fond th' Italians are,
To judge their artificial gardens rare;
When London in thy cheeks can show them here
Roses and lilies growing all the year.
The Portuguese, that only hopes to win,
By bringing stones from farthest India in;
When happy Shore can bring them forth a girl,
Whose lips be rubics, and her teeth be pearl.
(3) How silly is the Polander and Dane,
To bring us crystal from the frozen main?
When thy clear skin's transparence doth surpass
Their crystal, as the diamond doth glass.

The foolish French, which bring in trash and toys,
To turn our women, men, our girls to boys,
When with what tire thou do'st thyself adorn,
That for a fashion only shall be worn;
Which though it were a garment but of hair,
More rich than robe that ever empress ware.

Methinks, thy husband takes his mark awry,
To set his plate to sale, when thou art by;
When they which do thy angel-locks behold,
As the base dross do but respect his gold,
And wish one hair before that massy heap,
And but one lock, before the wealth of Cheap:
And for no cause else hold we gold so dear,
But that it is so like unto thy hair.
And sure, I think, Shore cannot choose but flout
Such as would find the great elixir out,
And laugh to see the alchymists, that choke
Themselves with fumes, and waste their wealth in

smoke;

When if thy hand but touch the grossest mould,
It is converted to refined gold:
When theirs is chaff'red at an easy rate,
Well known to all to be adulterate;
And is no more, when it by thine is set,
Than paltry beugle, or light-prized jet.

Let others wear perfumes, for thee unmeet, If there were none, thou couldst make all things sweet;

Thou comfort'st ev'ry sense with sweet repast,
To hear, to see, to smell, to feel, to taste:
Like a rich ship, whose very refuse ware,
Aromatics and precious odours are.

If thou but please to walk into the Pawn,
To buy the cambric, callico, or lawn,

If thou the whiteness of the same wouldst prove,
From thy far whiter hand pluck off thy glove;
And those which by as the beholders stand,
Will take thy hand for lawn, lawn for thy hand.
A thousand eyes clos'd up by envious night,
Do wish for day, but to enjoy thy sight,
And when they once have blest their eyes with
Scorn ev'ry object else, whate'er they see: [thee,
So like a goddess beauty still controls,
And hath such pow'rful working in our souls.

[brown,

The merchant, which in traffic spends his life,
Yet loves at home to have a dainty wife :
The blunt-spoke cynic, poring on his book,
Sometimes (aside) at beauty loves to look:
The churchman, by whose teaching we are led,
Allows what keeps love in the marriage-bed:
The bloody soldier, spent in dang'rous broils,
With beauty yet content to share his spoils :
The busy lawyer, wrangling in his pleas,
Findeth that beauty gives his labour ease:
The toiling tradesman, and the sweating clown,
Would have his wench fair, though his bread be
So much is beauty pleasing unto all,
That prince and peasant equally doth call;
Nor never yet did any man despise it,
Except too dear, and that he could not prize it.
Unlearn'd is learning, artless be all arts,
If not employ'd to praise thy sev'ral parts:
Poor plodding school-men they are far too low,
Which by probations, rules, and axioms go;
He must be familiar with the skies,
Which notes the revolutions of thine eyes:
And by that skill which measures sea and land,
See beauties all, thy waist, thy foot, thy hand;
Where he may find, the more that he doth view,
Such rare delights, as are both strange and new :
And other worlds of beauty more and more,
Which never were discovered before:
And to thy rare proportion, to apply
The lines and circles in geometry,
Using alone arithmetic's strong ground,
Numb'ring the virtues that in thee are found:
And when all these have done what they can do,
For thy perfections all too little too.

When from the east the dawn hath gotten out,
And gone to seek thee all the world about,
Within thy chamber hath she fix'd her light,
Where, but that place, the world hath all been
Then is it fit that ev'ry vulgar eye [night:
Should see love banquet in her majesty?
"We deem those things our sight doth most fre-
quent,

To be but mean, although most excellent:
For strangers still the streets are swept and strow'd,
Few look on such as daily come abroad : ['em,
Things much restrain'd, do make us much desire
And beauties seldom seen, make us admire them."
Nor is it fit a city-shop should hide

The world's delight, and Nature's only pride;
But in a prince's sumptuous gallery, 、
Hung all with tissue, floor'd with tapestry,
Where thou shalt sit, and from thy state shall see
The tilts and triumphs that are done for thee.
Then know the diff'rence (if thou list to prove)
Betwixt a vulgar and a kingly love:
And when thou find'st, as now thou doubt'st, the
Be thou thyself unpartial judge of both.

[troth,

Where hearts be knit, what helps, if not enjoy? Delay breeds doubts, no cunning to be coy: Whilst lazy Time his turn by tarriance serves, Love still grows sickly, and hope daily starves: Meanwhile, receive that warrant by these lines, Which princely rule and sov'reignty resigns; Till when, these papers, by their lord's command, By me shall kiss thy sweet and dainty hand.

ANNOTATIONS OF THE CHRONICLE HISTORY.

This epistle of Edward to mistress Shore, and of hers to him, being of unlawful affection, ministreth small occasion of historical notes; for had he men

tioned the many battles betwixt the Lancaster faction and him, or other warlike dangers, it had been more like to Plautus' boasting soldier, than a kingly courtier. Notwithstanding it shall not be amiss to annex a line or two.

(1) From English Edward to the fairest fair.

Edward the Fourth was by nature very chivalrous, and very amorous, applying his sweet amiable aspect to attain his wanton appetite the rather which was so well known to Lewis the French king, who at their interview invited him to Paris, that, as Comineus reports, being taken at bis word, he notwithstanding brake off the matter, fearing the Parisian dames, with their witty conversation, would detain him longer than should be for his benefit: by which means Edward was disappointed of his journey. And albeit princes, whilst they live, have nothing in them but what is admirable; yet we need not mistrust the flattery of the court in those times. For certain it is, that his shape was excellent; his hair drew near to a black, making his face's favour to seem more delectable: though the smallness of his eyes, full of shining moisture, as it took away some comeliness, so it argued much sharpness of understanding, and cruelty mingled together. And, indeed, George Buchanan (that imperious Scot) chargeth him, and other princes of those times, with affection of tyranny; as Richard the Third manifestly did.

(2) When first attracted by thy heavenly eyes.

Edward's intemperate desires, with which he was wholly overcome, how tragically they in his offspring were punished, is universally known. A mirror, representing their oversight, that frather leave their children what to possess, than what to imitate.

(3) How silly is the Polander and Dane, To bring us crystal from the frozen main? Alluding to their opinions, who imagine crystal to be a kind of ice; and therefore it is likely, they who came from those frozen parts, should bring great store of that transparent stone, which is thought to be congealed with extreme cold. Whether crystal be ice, or some other liquor, I omit to dispute: yet by the examples of amber and coral, there may be such an induration! for Solinus out of Pliny mentioneth, that in the northerly region a yellow jelly is taken up out of the sea at low tides, which he calls succinum, we amber. So likewise out of the Ligustic deep, a part of the Mediterranean sea, a greenish stalk is gathered, which, hardened in the air, comes to be coral, either white or red. Amber notwithstanding is thought to drop out of trees; as appears by Martial's egigram:

Et latet & lucet, Phaetontide condita gutta, Ut videatur apis nectare clausa suo. Dignum tantorum pretium tulit ille laborum; Credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori.

To behold a bee enclosed in electrum, is not so

rare, as that a boy's throat should be cut with the fall of an icicle; the which epigram is excellent, the 18 li. 4. He calls it Phaetontis gutta, because of that fable which Ovid rehearseth concerning the Heliades, or Phaeton's sisters, metamorphosed into those trees whose gum is amber, where flies alighting, are oftentimes translucently imprisoned.

THE EPISTLE OF

MRS. SHORE TO EDWARD IV.

As the weak child, that from the mother's wing
Is taught the lute's delicious fingering,
At ev'ry string's soft touch is mov'd with fear,
Noting his master's curious list'ning ear,
Whose trembling hand at ev'ry strain bewrays,
In what doubt he his new-set lesson plays:
As this poor child, so sit I to indite,
At ev'ry word still quaking as I write.
(1) Would I had led an humble shepherd's life,
Nor known the name of Shore's admired wife.
And liv'd with them in country fields that range,
Nor seen the golden Cheap, nor glitt'ring 'Change.
Here, like a comet gaz'd at in the skies,
Subject to all tongues, object to all eyes:
Oft have I heard my beauty prais'd of many,
But never yet so much admir'd of any :
A prince's eagle-eye to find out that,
Which common men do seldom wonder at,
Makes me to think affection flatters sight,
Or in the object something exquisite.

"To housed beauty seldom stoops report,
Fame must attend on that which lives in court."
What swan of bright Apollo's brood doth sing,
To vulgar love, in courtly sonneting?
Or what immortal poet's sugar'd pen
Attends the glory of a citizen?

Oft have I wonder'd what should blind your eye,
Or what so far seduced majesty,

That having choice of beauties so divine,
Amongst the most, to choose this least of mine?
More glorious suns adorn fair London's pride,
Than all rich England's continent beside;
That who t' account their multitudes would wish,
(*) Might number Romney's flow'rs, or Isis' fish.
Who doth frequent our temples, walks, and streets,
Noting the sundry beauties that he meets,
That if but some one beauty should incite
Some sacred Muse, some ravish'd spirit to write,
Here might he fetch the true Promethean fire,
That after-ages should his lines admire ;
Gathering the honey from the choicest flow'rs,
Scorning the wither'd weeds in country bow'rs.
Here, in this garden only, springs the rose,
In ev'ry common hedge the bramble grows :
Nor are we so turn'd Neapolitan,

(3) That might incite some foul-mouth'd Mantuan,
To all the world to lay out our defects,
And have just cause to rail upon our sex:
To prank old wrinkles up in new attire,
To alter Nature's course, prove Time a liar,
To abuse Fate, and Heav'n's just doom reverse,
On Beauty's grave to set a crimson hearse,
With a deceitful foil to lay a ground,
To make a glass to seem a diamond:
Nor cannot, without hazard of our name,
In fashion follow the Venetian dame :
Nor the fantastic French to imitate,
Attir'd half Spanish, half Italianate;
With waist, nor curl, body, nor brow adorn,
That is in Florence or in Genoa born.

But with vain boasts how witless fond am I,
Thus to draw on mine own indignity?
And what though married when I was but young,
Before I knew what did to love belong,
Yet he which now's possessed of the room,
Cropp'd beauty's flower when it was in the bloom,

And goes away enriched with the store,
Whilst others glean, where he hath reap'd before :
And he dares swear that I am true and just,
And shall I then deceive his honest trust?
Or what strange hope should make you to assail,
Where the strong'st batt'ry never could prevail?
Belike you think, that I repuls'd the rest,
To leave a king the conquest of my breast,
And have thus long preserv'd myself from all,
To have a monarch glory in my fall;
Yet rather let me die the vilest death,
Than live to draw that sin-polluted breath.
But our kind hearts men's tears cannot abide,
And we least angry oft, when most we chide.
Too well know men what our creation made us,
And nature too well taught them to invade us :
They know but too well, how, what, when, and
where,

To write, to speak, to sue, and to forbear;
By signs, by sighs, by motions, and by tears,
When vows should serve, when oaths, when smiles,
when pray'rs:

What one delight our humours most doth move,
Only in that you make us nourish love.
If any natural blemish blot our face,
You do protest, it gives our beauty grace;
And what attire we most are us'd to wear,
That, of all other excellent'st, you swear:
And if we walk, or sit, or stand, or lie,
It must resemble some one deity;
And what you know we take delight to hear,
That you are ever sounding in our ear:
And yet so shameless, when you tempt us thus,
To lay the fault on beauty and on us.

Rome's wanton Ovid did those rules impart,
O, that your nature should be help'd with art!

Who would have thought, a king that cares to
Enforc'd by love, so poet-like should feign? [reign,
To say that Beauty, Time's stern rage to shun,
In my cheeks (lilies) hid her from the Sun;
And when she meant to triumph in her May,
Made that her east, and here she broke her day:
And that fair summer still is in my sight,
And but where I am, all the world is night;
As though the fair'st e'er since the world began,
To me, a sun-burnt base Egyptian.

But yet I know more than I mean to tell,
(0, would to God you knew it not too well!)
That women oft their most admirers raîse,
Though publicly not flatt'ring their own praise.
Our churlish busbands, which our youth enjoy'd,
Who with our dainties have their stomachs cloy'd,
Do loath our smooth hands with their lips to feel,
T'enrich our favours, by our beds to kneel;
At our command to wait, to send, to go,
As ev'ry hour our am'rous servants do;
Which makes a stol'n kiss often we bestow,
In earnest of a greater good we owe:
When he all day torments us with a frown,
Yet sports with Venus in a bed of down;
Whose rude embracement but too ill beseems
Her span-broad waist, her white and dainty limbs:
And yet still preaching abstinence of meat,
When he himself of ev'ry dish will eat.

Blame you our husbands then, if they deny
Our public walking, our loose liberty?
If with exception still they us debar
(4) The circuit of the public theatre:
To hear the poet, in a comic strain,
Able t' infect with his lascivious scene: