For Boston business hotly then in hand,
The charge thereof on Chambers being lay'd,
Coming to Flanders, happ'd to understand
Of me, whom he requested him to aid;
Of which, when I the benefit had scann'd,
Weighing what time at Antwerp I had stay'd,
Soon it me won fair Italy to try,
Under a cheerful and more lucky sky.
For what the meanest clearly makes to shine,
Youth, wit, and courage, all in me concur:
In every project, that so powerful trine,
By whose kind working bravely I did stir,
Which to each high and glorious design
(The time could offer) freely did me spur,
As forcing fate some new thing to prepare,
(Showing success) t' attempt that could me
dare.

Where now my spirit got roomth itself to show,
To the fair'st pitch to make a gallant flight,
From things that too much earthly were and low,
Strongly attracted by a genuine light,
Where higher still it every day did grow;
And being in so excellent a plight,

Crav'd but occasion happily to prove,
How much it sat each vulgar spirit above.

The good success th' affairs 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,
Myself and through the straitest ways I wound.
So could 1 act, so well I could persuade,
As meerly jovial in myself was I,
Compos'd of freedom and alacrity.
Not long it was ere Rome of me did ring,
(Hardly shall Rame so full days see again)
Of freemens catches to the pope I sing,
Which wan much licence to my countrymen,
Thither the which I was the first bid bring,
That were unknown to Italy till then :

Light humours them when judgment doth direct,
Even of the wise win plausible respect.

And those, from home that pensions were allow'd,
And there did for intelligence remain,
Under my power themselves were glad to shrowd,
Russel and Pace yea oftentimes were fain,
When as their names they durst not have avow'd,
Me into their society t' retain,

Rising before me, mighty as they were,
Great though at home, yet did they need me
there.

In foreign parts near friends I yet forsake,
That had before been deeply bound to me,
And would again I use of them should make,
But still my stars command I should be free,
And all those offers lightly from me shake,
Which to requite, I fetter'd else might be;

And though that oft great perils me oppugn,
And means were weak, my mind was ever strong.
Yet those great wants fate to my youth did tie,
Me from the pomp of those rich countries drive,
Thereby inforc'd with painful industry,
Against affliction manfully to strive,
Under her burthen faintly not to lie:
But since my good I hardly must derive,
Into the same I thought to make my way,
Through all the pow'r against me she could lay.

As a comedian and my life I led,
For so a while my need did me constrain,
With other my poor countrymen (that play'd)
Thither that came in hope of better gain:
Whereas when Fortune seem'd me low to tread
Under her feet, she set me up again,

Until her use bade me her not to fear,

Her good and ill that patiently could bear.

Till Charles the Fifth th' imperial pow'r did bend 'Gainst Rome, which Bourbon skilfully did guide, Which fast-declining Italy did rend;

For th' right that him her holiness deny'd,
Wholly herself inforced to defend
'Gainst him that justly punish'd her pride,
To which myself I lastly did partake,

To see thereof what Fortune meant to make.

And at the siege with that great gen'ral serv'd,
When he first girt her stubborn waist with steel,
Within her walls who well-near being starv'd,
And that with faintness she began to reel,
Showing herself a little as she swerv'd:
First her then noting I began to feel,

She, whose great pow'r so far abroad did roam,
What in herself she truly was at home.
That the great school of the false world was then,
Where hers their subtle practices did vie,
Amongst that nighty confluence of men,
French plots propt up by English policy,
The German powers false shuffling, and again
All countermin'd by skilful Italy;

Each one in possibility to win,

Great rests were up, and mighty hands were in.

Here first to work my busy brain was set,
(My inclination finding it to please,

This stirring world which strongly still did whet)
To temper in so dangerous assays,
Which did strange forms of policies beget;
Besides in times so turbulent as these,

Whereto my studies wholly I did bend
To that, which then 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 deliver'd there to me,
Int' which there then were very few that sought,
Nor did with th' humour of that age agree,

Which after did most fearful things effect, Whose secret working few did then suspect. When though 'twere long, it happen'd 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 Moon when I began to cast, By my rare parts what place might be procur'd, If they at home were to the mighty known, How they would seem compared with their

own.

Or if that there the great should me neglect,
As I the worst that vainly did not fear,
To my experience how to gain respect,
In other countries that do hold it dear,
I no occasion vainly did reject,
Whilst still before me other rising were,
And some themselves had mounted to the sky,
Little before unlike to thrive as I.

That to account I strictly call my wit,
How it this while had managed my state,
My soul in counsel summoning to sit,
If possible to turn the course of fate;
For ways there be the greatest things to hit,
If men could find the peremptory gate:

And since I once was got so near the brink,

More than before 'twould grieve me now to sink.

Russel, whose life (some said) that I had sav'd
In Italy, one that me favour'd most,

And reverend Hailes, who but occasion crav'd
To show his love, no less that I had cost,
Who to the king perceiving me disgrac'd,
Whose favour I unluckily had lost,

Both with him great, a foot set in withal,
If not to stay, to qualify my fall.

High their regard, yet higher was their hap,
Well-near quite sunk, recover me that could,
And once more get me into Fortune's lap,
Which well myself 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

This me to urge the premunire won,
Ordain'd in matters dangerous and high,
Int' which the heedless prelacy were ran,
That back unto the papacy did fly,
Sworn to that see, and what before was done,
Due to the king, dispensed were thereby,

foes.

Int' which first ent'ring offer'd me the mean,
That to throw down, already that did lean.

This was to me that overflowing source,
From whence his bounties plentifully spring,
Whose speedy current with unusual force
Bare me into the bosom of the king,
By putting him into that ready course,
Which soon to pass his purposes might bring,
imperiously control'd me,
Struck pale with fear, stood trembling to behold

Where those which

me.

When State to me those ceremonies show'd,
That to so great a favourite were due,
And Fortune still with honours did me load,
As though no mean she in my rising knew,
Or Heaven to me more than to man had ow'd,
(What to the world unheard of was and new)

And was to other sparing of her store,
Till she could give, or I could ask no more.

Those high preferments he upon me lay'd,
To make the world me publicly to know,
Were such, in judgment rightly being weigh'd,
Seemed too great for me to undergo;
Nor could his hand from pouring on be stay'd,
Until I so abundantly did flow,

That looking down whence lately I was clomb,
Danger bad fear, if further I should roam.

For first from knighthood rising in degree,
The office of the jewel-house my lot,
After, the rolls he frankly gave to me,
From whence a privy counsellor I got,
Then of the garter; and then earl to be
Of Essex: yet sufficient these were not,
But to the great vicegerency I grew,
Being a title as supreme as new.

So well did me these dignities befit,
And honour so me every way became,
As more than man I had been made for it,
Or as from me it had deriv'd the name:
Where was he found whose love I not requit,
Beyond his own imaginary aim,

Which had me succour'd, nearly being driven,
As things to me that idly were not given?
What tongue so slow, the tale shall not report
Of hospitable Friscobald and me,
And show in how reciprocal a sort
My thanks did with his courtesy agree,
When as my means in Italy were short,
That me reliev'd? I, less that would not be,
When I of England was vicegerent made,
His former bounties lib'rally repay'd.

The manner briefly, gentler Muse, relate,
Since oft before it wisely hath been told,
The sudden change of unavoided fate,
That famous merchant, reverend Friscobald,
Grew poor, and the small remnant of his state,
Was certain goods to England he had sold,

Which in the hands of creditors but bad,
Small hope to get, yet lesser means he had.
Hither his wants him forcibly constrain'd,
Though with long travel both by land and seas,
Led by this hope, that only now remain❜d,
Whereon his fortune finally he lays;
And if he found that friendship here were feign'd,
Yet at the worst, it better should him please,
Far out of sight to perish here unknown,
Than unreliev'd be pitied of his own.

It chanc'd as I tow'rd Westminster did ride,
'Mongst the great concourse passing to and fro,
An aged man I happily espy'd,

Whose outward locks much inward grief did
show;

Which made me note him, and the more I ey'd
Him, methought more precisely I should know :
Revolving long, it came into my mind,
This was the man to me had been so kind.
Was therewithal so joyed with his sight,
(With the dear sight of his so reverend face)
That I could scarcely keep me from t' alight,
And in mine arms him kindly to embrace :
Weighing yet (well) what some imagine might,
He being a stranger, and the public place,

Check'd my affection, till some fitter hour
On him my love effectually might show'r.
"Never," quoth I," was Fortune so unjust,
As to do wrong to thy most noble heart :
What man so wicked could betray the trust,
Of one so upright, of so good desert?
And tho' obey necessity thou must,

As when th' wast 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 be,
Show'd him that stranger, whose dejected eyne,
Fixt on the earth, ne'er once look'd up at me:
"Bid yonder man come home to me and dine,"
(Quoth I) "bespeak him reverently you see;

Scorn not his habit; little canst thou tell,
How rich a mind in those mean rags doth

dwell."

He with my name that kindly did him greet,
Slowly cast up his deadly-moving eye,
That long time had been fixed on his feet,
To look no higher than his misery,
Thinking him more calamity did greet,
Or that I had supposed him some spy;

With a deep sigh that from his beart he drew,
Quoth he, "His will accomplish'd be by you."
My man departed, and the message done,
He whose sad heart a strange impression struck,
To think upon this accident begun,
And on himself suspiciously to look ;
Into all doubts he fearfully doth run,
Oft himself cheering, oft himself forsook:

Strangely perplext, he to my house doth come,
Not knowing why judg'd, nor dreading yet his
doom.

My servants set his coming to attend,
That were therein not common for their skill,
Whose usage yet the former did amend :
He hop'd not good, nor guilty was of ill;
But as a man, whose thoughts were at an end,
"Fortune," quoth he, "then work on me thy will:
Wiser than man I think he were that knew
Whence this may come, or what will it ensue."

His honour'd presence so did me inflame,
That being then in presence of my peers,
I'sdained not to meet him as he came,
(That very hardly could contain my tears)
Kindly salute him, call him by his name,
And oft together ask him how he cheers:
Which still along maintaining the extreme,
The man thought sure he had been in a
dream.

At length to wake him gently, I began
With this demand, "If once he did not know
One Thomas Cromwell, a poor Englishman,
By him reliev'd, when he was driven low,"
When I perceiv'd he my remembrance wan,
Yet with his tears it silently did show,

I wept for woe, to see mine host distrest;
But he for joy, to see his happy guest.
Him to the lords I publish'd by my praise,
And at my table carefully him set,
Recounting them the many sundry ways
I was to this good gentleman in debt;
How great he was in Florence in those days,
With all that grace or reverence him might get :
Which all the while yet silently he hears,
Moisting among his viands with his tears.
And to lend fulness lastly to his fate,
Great sums I gave him, and what was his due,
Made known, myself became his advocate,
And at my charge his creditors I sue,
Recovering him unto his former state:
Thus he the world began by me anew,
That shall to all posterity express

His honour'd bounty, and my thankfulness.
But, Muse, recount before thou farther pass,
How this great change so quickly came about,
And what the cause of this sad dowufal was,
In every part the spacious realm throughout,
Being, effected in so little space;
Leave not thereof posterity to doubt,

That the world obscured else may be,
If in this place revealed not by thee.

If the whole land did on the Church rely,
Having full pow'r kings to account to call,
That to the world read only policy,
Besides Heaven's keys to stop or let in all,
Let me but know from her supremacy
How she should come so suddenly to fall:
'Twas more than chance sure put a hand thereto,
That had the power so great a thing to do.

Or aught there were had biding under Sun,
Who would have thought those edifices great,
Which first Religion holily begun,

The Church approv'd, and Wisdom richly seat,
Devotion nourish'd, Faith allowance won,
With what might make them any way complete,
Should in their ruins lastly bury'd lie,
But that begun and ended from the sky?
And the king, late obedient to her laws,
Against the clerk of Germany had writ,
As he the first that stirr'd in the Church's cause,
Against him greatli'st that oppugned it;
And wan from her so grateful an applause,
Then in her favour chiefly that did sit,

That as the prop whereon she only stay'th,
Him she instil'd Defender of the Faith.

But not their power, whose wisdoms them did place

In the first rank, the oracles of state,
Who that opinion strongly did embrace,
Which through the land received was of late,
Then aught at all prevailed in this case.

O powerful doom of unavoided fate,

Whose depth not weak mortality can know!
Who can up-hold what Heaven will overthrow?

When time now universally did show
The power to it peculiarly annex'd,
With most abundance then, when she did flow,
Yet every hour still prosp'rously she wex'd,
But the world poor did by loose riots grow,
Which served as an excellent pretext,

And colour gave to pluck her from her pride,
Whose only greatness suffer'd none beside.
Likewise to that, posterity did doubt
Those at the first not rightly to adore,
Their fathers that, too credulous devout,
Had to the church contributed their store,
And to recover only went about

What their great zeal had lavished before,
On her a strong hand violently lay'd,
Preying on that they gave for to be pray'd,

Besides, the king set in a course so right,
Which I for him laboriously had tract,

(Who, till learn'd him, had not known his might)

I still to prompt his power with me to act,
Into those secrets got so deep a sight,
That nothing lastly to his furtherance lack'd,
And by example it to him was shown,
How Rome might here be eas'ly overthrown
In taking down yet of this goodly frame,
He suddenly not brake off every band,
But took the power first from the papal name,
After, a while let the religion stand,
When limb by limb he daily did it lame;
First, took a leg, and after took a hand,
Till the poor semblance of a body left,
But all should stay it utterly bereft.

For if some abbey happen'd void to fall,
By death of him that the superior was,
Gain, that did first church-liberty enthral,
Only supreme promoted to the place,
'Mongst many bad, the worst most times of all,
Under the colour of some other's grace,

That by the slander which from him should spring,

Into contempt it more and more might bring.

This time from Heaven when by a secret course
Dissension universally began,
(Prevailing as a planetary source)

I' th' Church believing, as Mahumetan,
When Luther first did these opinions nurse,
Much from great Rome in ittle space that wan,
It to this change so aptly did dispose,
From whose sad ruin ours so great arose.

When here that fabric utterly did fail,
Which powerful fate had limited to time,
By whose strong law it naturally must quail,
From that proud height to which it long did climb,
Letting 'gainst it the contrary prevail,
Therein to punish some notorious crime,
For which at length just-dooming Heaven de-
creed,

That on her buildings ruin here should feed.

Th' authority upon her she did take,
And use thereof in every little thing,
Finding herself how oft she did forsake,
In her own bounds herself not limiting,
That awful fear and due obedience brake,
Which her reputed holiness did bring,

From slight regard and brought her into hate,
With those that much dislik'd of her estate.

Seeing those parts she cunningly had play'd,
Belief to her great miracles to win,
To the wise world were every day bewray'd,
From which the doubt did of her pow'r begin,
Damnation yet to question what she said,
Made most suspect the faith they had been in,
When their salvation eas'ly might be bought,
Found not this yet the way that they had sought.
Whence those ill humours ripen'd to a head,
Bred by the rankness of the plenteous land,
And they not only strangely from her fled,
Bound for her ancient liberty to stand,
But what their fathers gave her being dead,
The sons rap'd from her with a violent hand,
And those her buildings most of all abus'd,
That with the weight their fathers' coffins bruis'd.

The wisest and most provident but build
For time again but only to destroy,
The costly piles and monuments we gild,
Succeeding time shall reckon but a toy;
Vicissitude impartially will'd,

The goodliest things be subject to annoy,

And what one age did studiously maintain,
The next again accounteth vile and vain.
Yet time doth tell, in some things they did err,
That put their help her bravery to deface,

When as the wealth that taken was from her,
Others soon raised, that did them displace,

And th' Romish rites, that with a clearer sight
The wisest thought they justly did reject,
They after saw, that the received light
Not altogether free was from defect,
Mysterious things being not conceived right
Thereof bred in the ignorant neglect:

For in opinion something short doth fall,
Wants there have been, and shall be still in all.
But negligent Security and Ease,
Unbridled Sensuality begat,

That only sought his appetite to please,
As it in midst of much abundance sat:

The church not willing others should her praise,
That she was lean, when as her lands were fat,
Herself to too much liberty did give,

Which some perceiv'd that in those times did live.
Pierce, the wise ploughman, in his vision saw
Conscience sore hurt, yet sorer was afraid
The seven great sins to Hell him like to draw,
And to wise clergy mainly cry'd for aid;
Fall'n ere he wist (whom peril much did awe)
On unclean priests whilst faintly he him staid,
Willing good clergy t' ease his wretched case,
Whom these strong giants hotly had in chase.
Clergy call'd friers, which near 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 ear Need softly did him 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 souls they take. And voluntary poverty profest,

By food of angels seeming as to live;

But yet with them th' accounted were the best,
That most to their fraternity did give,

And beyond number that they were increast

If so," quoth Conscience, "thee may I believe, Then 'tis in vain more on them to bestow, If beyond number like they be to grow." The frier soon feeling Conscience had him found, And hearing how Hypocrisy did thrive, That many teachers every where did wound, For which Contrition miserably did grieve: Now in deceit to show himself profound, His former hopes yet lastly to revive,

Gets the pope's letters, whereof he doth shape
Him a disguise from Conscience to escape.
And so tow'rds goodly Unity he goes,

A strong-built castle standing very high,
Where Conscience liv'd to keep him from his foes,
Whom, lest some watchful sentinel should spy,
And him should to the garrison disclose,
His cowl about him carefully doth tie,

Creeps to the gate, and closely thereat beat,
As one that entrance gladly would entreat.
Peace, the good porter, ready still at hand,
It doth unpin, and prays him God to save,
And after salving, kindly doth demand
What was his will, or who he there would have ?
The frier low louting, crossing with his hand,

"To speak with Contrition," quoth he, "I would crave."