For hee that hath of fortitude and might,
And thereto hath a kingdom ioynde withall,
Except hee also guide him selfe aright,
His powre and strength preuayleth him but small,
Hee cannot scape at length an haples fall:
You may perceiue a myrrour playne by me,
Which may with wisdome well sufficient bee.
Wee reade the valiaunt actes of Hercules,
His mighty labours all and woefull end,
But Samson's conquests of his enemies,
The holy histories to vs commend.
Yet who so shal on fortitude depend,
Still trusting to obtayne the victory,
Let him beholde Morindus' history.
Or of the death of Theseus they tell,
The fall of Brennus and his woefull end,
Though hee in force and powre bee nere so fell,
Hee cannot still on fortitude depend:
Tis vertue sole that all the wise commend:
Or God's reuenge, example take by mee,
And let my death sufficient warning bee. ed. 1575.
THE AUTHOure.
I could not thus departe to take my reste,
For Morpheus bad me byde and heare the last.
(Quoth he) behinde as yet, is one the beste:
"Do stay a whyle, giue eare till he be past,
"And therewithail approtched one full fast,
The worthiest wight I euer erste did see:
These wordes he spake, or like it seemed mee.
Shee still obtaynes for aye the victory,
By true reporte of euery history.
Strength, beauty, wealth, facts, fauoure, fearcenesse fell,
All earthly pleasures feele a paynefull end,
Then happy thrice is hee (the truth to tell)
That onely can on heauenly powre depend:
But now I must to you the next commend,
In blacke, mee thought, appearing mournefully,
Declaring thus his woefull misery.
HOW KING EMERIAnus for his tirany was deposed, about the yeare before Christ,
THE Wofull wight that fell from throne to thrall,
The wretch that woue the web wherein hee goes,
A dolefull blacke bad weede still weare hee shall
In woefull sorte, and nothing blame his foes:
What neede such one at all his name disclose ?
Except the haplesse rest of Britaynes should,"
Not here for shame recite his name hee would,
I am Emeriane King that raignde a space,
Scarce all one yeare,3 in Britayne Isle long sence,
But for I was in maners voide of grace,
Ferce, tyranous, and full of negligence,
Bloud thirsty, cruell, vaine, deuoide of sence;
The Britaynes mee deposde, from seat and crowne,
And reaude mee quite of riches and renowne.
I was despisde and banisht from my blisse,
Discountnaunste, fayne to hide my selfe for shame :
What neede I longer stand to tell thee this?
My selfe was for my woefull fall to blame :
My raygne was short, in fewe my fall I frame,
My life was lothsome, soone like death that found,
Let this suffice a warning blaste to sound.
Not in the first edition.
2 Except the rest of Britaine princes should. N.
3 The chronicles say six or seuen years, and deposed for his tyranny.
The cause why here this Prince is briefe in talke
Is, for the stories scarce remembre such,
What neede I then with them more farder walke?
Sith this perhaps may seeme, is sayd to much,
I must but briefly these vnworthy tutch:
The next approaching pufte with dropsie wanne,
Thus wise, mee thought, his yexeing+ tale beganne.
4 To yex, to have the hiccough. Johnson.
nus giuen to dronkennesse raygned but
one yeare. Hee died about the yeare
before Christ,
THOUGH I my surfets haue not yet out slept,
Nor scarce with quiet browes begin my tale,
Let not my drousy talke bee ouer leapt,
For though my belching sent of wine or ale,
Although my face bee falloe, puft, and pale,
And legges with dropsy swell, and panche resound,
Yet let mee tell what vice did mee confound.
Perhaps thou thinkste so groase a blockhead blunt,
A sleepy swinishe head can nothing say:
The greatest heads and smalest cke were wont
To beare in them the finest wits away:
This thing is true thou canst it not denay,
And Bacchus eke ensharps the wits of some:
Fœcundi calices quem non fecere disertum?
Yet sith long since both braynes and all were spent,
And this in place amongste my mates I speake,
I trust thou wilt bee here withall content,
Although in deede my wits of talke are weake:
So old a vessayle cannot chuse but leake,
A drousy nole that lyes on drinke a sleepe so long,
May pardon craue, although his tongue trip twifold wrong.'
Not in the first edition.
2 An unwilling dolt.
3 A drunken sot whose faltering feete do slip,
Must pardon craue, his tongue in talke will trip. N.
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