Ent'ring the chamber, where he was alone
(As one whose former fortune was his shame)
Loathing th' upbraiding eye of any one
That knew him once, and knows him not the same :
When having given express command that none
Should press to him; yet hearing some that came,
Turns angrily about his grieved eyes,
When lo! his sweet afflicted Queen he spies.
Straight clears his brow, and with a borrow'd smile,
'What! my dear Queen! welcome my dear,' he says;
And (striving his own passion to beguile,
And hide the sorrow which his eye betrays)
Could speak no more; but wrings her hands the while,
And then- Sweet lady!' and again he stays.
Th' excess of joy and sorrow both affords
Affliction none, or but poor niggard words.
She that was come with a resolved heart,
And with a mouth full stor'd, with words well chose ;
Thinking, this comfort will I first impart
Unto my lord, and thus my speech dispose;
Then thus I'll say; thus look; and with this art
Hide mine own sorrow, to relieve his woes;
When being come, all this prov'd nought but wind;
Tears, looks, and sighs do only tell her mind.
Thus both stood silent, and confused so,
Their eyes relating how their hearts did mourn ;
Both big with sorrow, and both great with woe,
In labour with what was not to be borne:
This mighty burthen wherewithal they go
Dies undeliver'd, perishes unborn;
Sorrow makes Silence her best orator,
Where words may make it less, not show it more.
Civil War, by S. Daniel, B. II. st. 66-92.
P. Works, 1718, 12mo.
BEING ASKED THE OCCASION OF HIS WHITE HEAD, HE ANSWERETH THUS:
HERE seething sighs and sorrow sobs
Hath slain the slips that nature set:
And scalding showers with stony throbs,
The kindly sap from them hath fet :
What wonder then though that you see
Upon my head white hairs to be.
Where thought hath thrill'd and thrown his spears,
To hurt the heart that harmeth him not:
And groaning grief hath ground forth tears,
Mine eye to stain, my face to spot:
What wonder then though that you see,
Upon my head white hairs to be.
Where pinching pain himself has plac'd,
There peace with pleasures were possess'd :
And where the walls of wealth lie waste,
And poverty in them is press'd :
What wonder then though that you see Upon my head white hairs to be.
Where wretched woe will weave her web,
Where care the elue can catch and dust:
And floods of joy are fallen to ebb,
So low, that life may not long last :
What wonder then though that you see
Upon my head white hairs to be.
These hairs of age are messengers *,
Which bid me fast, repent, and pray;
They be of death the harbingers,
That doth prepare and dress the way.
Wherefore I joy that you may see
Upon my head such hairs to be.
They be the lines that lead the length,
How far my race is for to run:
They say my youth is fled with strength,
And how old age is weak begun.
The which I feel, and you may see
Upon my head such lines to be.
They be the strings of sober sound,
Whose music is harmonical:
Their tunes declare a time from ground
I came, and how thereto I shall :
Wherefore I joy that you may see
Upon my head such strings to be.
God grant to those that white hairs have,
No worse them take than I have meant :
That after they be laid in grave,
Their souls may joy their lives well spent.
God grant likewise that you may see
Upon your head such hairs to be.
From the Paradise of Dainty Devises,
fol. 1, 4, signed W. Hunis.
BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BOSWORTH.
HE king (whose eyes were never fully clos'd,
Whose mind, oppress'd with fearful dreams, suppos'd
That he in blood had wallow'd all the night)
Leaps from his restless bed before the light :
Accursed Tyrell is the first he spies,
Whom threat'ning with his dagger, thus he cries:
'How dar'st thou, villain, so disturb my sleep,
Were not the smother'd children buried deep*?
And hath the ground again been ript by thee,
That I their rotten carcases might see?'
* Were not the smother'd children buried deep? There is much nature in this spirited interrogation.
The wretch astonish'd hastes away to slide,
(As damned ghosts themselves in darkness hide)
And call up three, whose counsels could assuage
'The sudden swellings of the prince's rage:
Ambitious Lovell, who, to gain his grace,
Had stain'd the honour of his noble race;
Perfidious Catesby, by whose curious skill
The law was taught to speak his master's will:
And Ratcliff, deeply learn'd in courtly art,
Who best could search into his sovereign's heart:
Affrighted Richard labours to relate
His hideous dreams, as signs of hapless fate:
'Alas (said they), such fictions children fear,
These are not terrors showing danger near,
But motives sent by some propitious power,
To make you watchful at this early hour;
These prove that your victorious care prevents
Your slothful foes, that slumber in their tents;
This precious time must not in vain be spent,
Which God (your help) by heavenly means hath lent.'
He (by these false conjectures) much appeas'd,
Contemning fancies which his mind diseas'd,
Replies;-' I should have been asham'd to tell
Fond dreams to wise men: whether heav'n or hell,
Or troubled nature, these effects hath wrought,
I know, this day requires another thought:
If some resistless strength my cause should cross,
Fear will increase, and not redeem the loss;
All dangers clouded with the mist of fear
Seem great far off, but lessen coming near.
Away, ye black illusions of the night,
If ye, combin'd with Fortune, have the might
To hinder my design: ye shall not bar
My courage seeking glorious death in war.'
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