And the young wanton wits, when they applaud
The sly persuasion of some subtle bawd;
Or passionate tragedian, in his rage,
Acting a love-sick passion on the stage:

(*) When though abroad restraining us to roam,
They very hardly keep us safe at home;
And oft are touch'd with fear and inward grief,
Knowing rich prizes soonest tempt a thief.
What sports have we, whereon our minds to set?
Our dog, our parrot, or our marmozet,
Or once a week to walk into the field;
Small is the pleasure that these toys do yield ;
But to this grief a med'cine you apply,
To cure restraint with that sweet liberty;
And sov'reignty (O that bewitching thing!)
Yet made more great by promise of a king;
And more, that honour which doth most entice
The holiest nun, and she that's ne'er so nice.
Thus still we strive, yet overcome at length,
For men want mercy, and poor women strength:
Yet grant, that we could meaner men resist,
When kings once come, they conquer as they list.
Thou art the cause Shore pleaseth not my sight,
That his embraces give me no delight:
Thou art the cause I to myself am strange,
Thy coming is my full, thy set my change.
Long winter nights be minutes, if thou here;
Short minutes, if thou absent, be a year.
And thus by strength thou art become my fate,
And mak'st me love even in the midst of hate.

ANNOTATIONS OF THE CHRONICLE HISTORY.

(1) Would I had led an humble shepherd's life, Nor known the name of Shore's admired wife.

Two or three poems, written by sundry men, have magnified this woman's beauty; whom, that ornament of England, and London's more particular glory, sir Thomas More, very highly hath praised for her beauty, she being alive in his time, though being poor and aged. Her stature was mean, her hair of a dark yellow, her face round and full, her eye gray, delicate harmony being betwixt each part's proportion, and each proportion's colour; her body fat, white, and smooth; her countenance cheerful, and like to her condition. That picture which I have seen of hers, was such as she rose out of her bed in the morning, having nothing on but a rich mantle, cast under one arm over her shoulder, and sitting in a chair, on which her naked arm did lie. What her father's name was, or where she was born, is not certainly known: but Shore, a young man of right goodly person, wealth, and behaviour, abandoned her bed, after the king had made her his concubine. Richard III. causing her to do open penance in Paul's churchyard, commanded that no man should relieve her; which the tyrant did not so much for his hatred to sin, but that by making his brother's life odious, he might cover his horrible treasons, the more cunningly.

(*) May number Rumney's flow'rs, or Isis' fish.

Rumney is that famous marsh in Kent, at whose side Rye, a haven-town, doth stand: hereof the excellent English antiquary, Mr. Camden, and Mr. Lambert in his Perambulation, do make mention. And marshes are commonly called those low grounds which abut upon the sea, and from the Latin word are so denominated. Isis is here

used for Thamesis, by a synecdochical kind of
speech, or by a poetical liberty, in using one for
another: for it is said that Thamesis is compound-
ed of Tame and Isis, making, when they are met,
that renowned water running by London, a city
much more renowned than that water: which be-
ing plentiful of fish, is the cause also why all
things else are plentiful therein. Moreover, I am
persuaded, that there is no river in the world be-
holds more stately buildings on either side, clean
thorow, than the Thames. Much is reported of
the grand canal in Venice, for that the frouts on
either side are so gorgeous.

(") That might incite some foul-mouth'd Mantuan.

Mantuan, a pastoral poet, in one of his eclogues, bitterly inveigheth against womankind; some of which, by way of an appendix, might be here inserted, seeing the fantastic and insolent humours of many of that sex deserve much sharper physic, were it not that they are grown wiser than to amend for such an idle poet's speech as Mantuan; yea, or for Euripides himself, or Seneca's inflexible Hippolitus.

(4) The circuit of the public theatre.

Ovid, a most fit author for so dissolute a sectary,
calls that place chastity's shipwrack: for though
Shore's wife wantonly plead for liberty, which is
the true humour of a courtezan; yet much more
is the praise of modesty, than of such liberty.
Howbeit, the vestal nuns had seats assigned them
in the Roman theatre; whereby it should appear,
it was counted no impeachment to modesty, though
they offending herein were buried quick a sharp
law for them, who may say, as Shore's wife does,
(') When though abroad restraining us to roam,
They very hardly keep us safe at home.

MARY, THE FRENCH QUEEN, TO CHARLES
BRANDON, Duke of Suffolk.

THE ARGUMENT.

Henry the Eighth, firm friendship to unite
With France, bestows the lady Mary bright,
His younger sister, on king Lewis, then
Being lame and aged; but she, of all men,
Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, most affected,
One whom her brother highly had respected,
And had advane'd: but scarcely had she been
Five months in France, when the brave beauteous
queen

Buried the old king; who no sooner dead,
But she in heart determining to wed
Her long-lov'd Brandon, this epistle writes;
Who back to her the answer soon indites.

Sucu health from Heav'n myself may wish to me,
Such health from France queen Mary sends to

thee.

Brandon, how long mak'st thou excuse to stay,
And know'st how ill we women brook delay ?
If one poor channel thus can part us two,
Tell me (unkind!) what would an ocean do?

Leander had an Hellespont to swim,
Yet this from Here could not hinder him;
His bark (poor soul!) his breast, bis arms his oars,
But thou a ship, to land thee on our shores;
And opposite to famous Kent do lie
The pleasant fields of flow'ry Picardy,
Where our fair Calais, walled in her sands,
In kenning of the cliffy Dover stands.

Here is no bedlam nurse to pout nor low'r,
When, wantoning, we revel in my tow'r;
Nor need I top my turret with a light,
To guide thee to me, as thou swimm'st by night;
Compar'd with me, wert thou but half so kind,
Thy sighs should stuff thy sails, tho' wanting wind:
But thy breast is becalm'd, thy sighs be slack,
And mine, too stiff, do blow thy broad-sails back.
But thou wilt say, that I should blame the flood,
Because the wind so full against thee stood:
Nay, blame it not, that it did roughly blow,
For it did chide thee, that thou wast so slow;
For it came not to keep thee in the bay,
But came from me, to bid thee come away.
But that thou vainly lett'st occasion slide,
Thou might'st have wafted hither with the tide.
If when thou com'st, I knit mine angry brow,
Blame me not, Brandon, thou hast broke thy vow;
Yet if I meant to frown, I might be dumb,

For this may make thee stand in doubt to come:
Nay come, sweet Charles, have care thy ship to
guide;

Come, my sweet heart, in faith I will not chide.
When as my brother and his lovely queen,
In sad attire for my depart were sceu,
(1) The utmost date expired of my stay,
When I from Dover did depart away,
Thou know'st what woe I suffer'd for thy sake,
How oft I feign'd of thee my leave to take:
God and thou know', with what a heavy heart
I took my farewell, when I should depart;
And being shipp'd, gave signal with my hand
Up to the cliff, where I did see thee stand:
Nor could refrain, in all the people's view,
But cry'd to thee, "Sweet Charles, adieu, adieu!"
Look how a little infant, that hath lost
The thing wherewith it was delighted most,
Weary with seeking, to some corner creeps,
And then (poor soul !) it sits it down and weeps ;
And when the nurse would fain content the mind,
Yet still it mourns for that it cannot find:
Thus in my careful cabin did I lie,
When as the ship out of the road did fly.

(2) Think'st thou my love was faithful then to
thee,

When young Castile to England su'd for me?
Be judge thyself, if it were not of power,
When I refus'd an empire for my dower.
To England's court when once report did bring,
How thou in France didst revel with the king,
(3) When he, in triumph of his victory,
Under a rich embroider'd canopy
Enter'd proud Tournay, which did trembling stand,
To beg for mercy at his conqu'ring hand;
To hear of his endearments, how I joy'd!
But see, this calm was suddenly destroy'd.
(*) When Charles of Castile there to banquet came,
With him his sister, that ambitious dame,
(") Savoy's proud dutchess, knowing how long she
All means had try'd to win my love from nie;
Fearing my absence might thy vows acquit,
To change thy Mary for a Margaret,

(6) When in king Henry's tent of cloth of geld,
She often did thee in her arms enfold:
Where you were feasted more deliciously,
Than Cleopatra did Mark Antony :
Where sports all day did entertain your sight,
And then in masques you pass'd away the night.
But thou wilt say, 'tis proper unto us,
That we by nature all are jealous.
"I must confess 'tis oft found in our sex,
But who not loves, not any thing suspects:
True love doth look with pale suspicion's eye,
Take away love, if you take jealousy."

Turwin and Tournay when king Henry took,
For this great change who then did ever look ?
(7) When Maximilian to those wars addrest,
Wore England's cross on his imperial breast,
(*) And in our army let his eagle fly,
(*) That view'd our ensigns with a wond'ring eye;
Little thought I when Bullen first was won,
Wedlock should end what angry war begun.
From which I vow, I yet am free in thought,
(1) But this alone by Wolsey's wit was wrought.
To his advice the king gave free consent,
That will I, nill I, I must be content.
My virgin's right thy state could not advance,
But now enriched with the dower of France;
Then, but poor Suffolk's dutchess had I been,
Now the great dowager, the most Christian queen.
But I perceive where all thy grief doth lie,
Lewis of France had my virginity;

He had indeed, but shall I tell thee what?
Believe me, Brandon, he had scarcely that:
Good feeble king, he could not do much harm,
But age must needs have something that is warm;
"Small drops (Gods knows) do quench that heat-
less fire,

When all the strength is only in desire."
And I could tell (if modesty might tell)
There's somewhat else that pleaseth lovers well;
To rest his cheek upon my softer cheek,
Was all he had, and more he did not seek;
And
So might the little baby clip the nurse,
content, she never a whit the worse:
Then think this, Brandon, if that make thee frown,
For maiden-head, be on me set a crown..
Who would not change a kingdom for a kiss?
Hard were the heart that would not yield him this ;⚫
And time yet half so swiftly doth not pass,
Not yet full five months elder than I was.

When thou to France conducted wast by fame,
With many knights, which from all countries came,
To see me at St. Dennis on my throne,
Where Lewis held my coronation;

(1) Where the proud dauphin, for thy valour's sake,
Chose thee at tilt his princely part to take:
When as the staves upon thy cask did light,
Grieved therewith, I turn'd away my sight,
And spake aloud, when I myself forgot,
""Tis my sweet Charles, my Brandon, hurt him

not."

But when I fear'd the king perceived this,
Good silly man, I pleas'd him with a kiss;
And to extol his valiant son began,
That Europe never bred a braver man:
And when (poor king) he simply praised thee,
Of all the rest I ask'd, who thou should'st be?
Thus I with him dissembled for thy sake;
Open confession now amends must make..
Whilst this old king upon a pallet lies,
And only holds a combat with mine eyes;

Mine eyes from his, by thy sight stol n away,
Which might too well their mistress' thoughts
bewray.

But when I saw thy proud unconquer'd lance
To bear the prize from all the flow'r of France,
To see what pleasure did my soul embrace,
Might eas'ly be discerned in my face,
Look as the dew upon a damask rose,
Now through that liquid pearl his blushing shows,
And when the soft air breathes upon his top,
From the sweet leaves falls cas'ly drop by drop;,,
Thus by my cheek, distilling from mine eyes,
One tear for joy another's room supplies. [prove,
Before mine eye (like touch) thy shape did
Mine eye condemn'd my too, too partial love;
But since by others I the same do try,
My love condemns my too, too partial eye.
The precious stone most beautiful and rare,
When with itself we only it compare,

We deem all other of that kind to be
As excellent as that we only see;"

1

But when we judge of that, with others by,
Too credulous we do condemn our eye,
Which then appears more orient and more bright,
Having a foil whereon to show its light.
Alanson, a fine timb'red man, and tall,
Yet wants the shape thou art adorn'd withall:
Vandome good carriage, and a pleasing eye,
Yet hath not Suffolk's princely majesty:
Courageous Bourbon, a sweet manly face,
Yet in his looks lacks Brandon's courtly grace:
Proud Longavile, suppos'd to have no peer,

A man scarce made was thought, whilst thou wast
here:

County Saint-Paul, our best at arms in France,
Would yield himself a 'squire to bear thy lance:
(2) Galeas and Bounarme, matchless for their
might,

Under thy tow'ring blade have couch'd in fight.
If with our love my brother angry be,
I'll say, to please him, I first fancy'd thee:
And but to frame my liking to his mind,
Never to thee had I been half so kind.
Worthy my love, the vulgar judge no man,
Except a Yorkist, or Lancastrian;

Nor think that my affection should be set,
But in the line of great Plantagenet.

I pass not what the idle commons say,

I pray thee Charles make haste, and come away.
To thee what's England, if I be not there?
Or what to me is France, if thou not here?
Thy absence makes me angry for awhile,
But at thy presence I should gladly smile.
When last of me his leave my Brandon took,
He sware an oath (and made my lips the book)
He would make haste, which now thou do'st deny ;
Thou art forsworn; O wilful perjury !
Sooner would I with greater sins dispense,
Than by entreaty pardon this offence.

But yet I think, if I shou'd come to shrive thee,
Great were the fault that I shou'd not forgive thee:
Yet wert thou here, I would revenged be,"
But it should be with too much loving thee.
Ay, that is all that thou shalt fear to taste;
pray thee, Brandon, come, sweet Charles, make
haste.

ANNOTATIONS OF THE CHRONICLE HISTORY. () The utmost date expired of my stay, When I from Dover did depart away.

King Henry VIII. with the queen and nobles, in the sixth year of his reign, in the month of September, brought this lady to Dover, where she took shipping for France.

(2) Think'st thou my love was faithful unto thee, When young Castile to England su'd for me?

It was agreed and concluded betwixt Henry VII. and Philip king of Castile, son to Maximilian the emperor, that Charles, eldest son of the said Philip, should marry the lady Mary, daughter to king Henry, when they came to age: which agreement was afterward in the eighth year of Henry VIII. annihilated.

(3) When he, in triumph of his victory,
Under a rich embroider'd canopy,
Enter'd proud Tournay, which did trembling
stand, &c.

Henry VIII. after the long siege of Tournay, which was delivered to him upon composition, entered the city in triumph under a canopy of cloth of gold, borne by four of the chief and most noble citizens, the king himself mounted upon a gallant courser barbed with the arms of England, France, and Ireland.

(*) When Charles of Castile to a banquet came, With him his sister, that ambitious dame, Savoy's proud dutchess.

The king being at Tournay, there came to him the prince of Castile, and the lady Margaret, dutchess of Savoy, his sister, to whom king Henry gave great entertainment.

(") Savoy's proud dutchess, knowing how long she All means had try'd to win my love from me.

At this time there was talk of a marriage to be concluded between Charles Brandon, then lord Lisle, and the dutchess of Savoy; the lord Lisle being highly favoured, and exceedingly beloved of the dutchess.

(*) When in king Henry's tent of cloth of gold.

The king caused a rich tent of cloth of gold to be erected, where he feasted the prince of Castile and the dutchess, and entertained them with sumptuous masks and banquets during their abode.

(7) When Maximilian to those wars addrest,

Wore England's cross on his imperial breast. Maximilian the emperor, with all his soldiers who served under king Henry, wore the cross of St. George with the rose on their breasts.

(8) And in our army let his eagle fly.

The black eagle is the badge imperial, which here is used for the displaying of his ensign or standard.

(2) That view'd our ensigns with a wond'ring eye. Henry VIII. at his wars in France, retained the emperor and all his soldiers in wages, who served under him during those wars.

(10) But this alone by Wolsey's wit was wrought. Thomas, Wolsey, the king's almoner, then bishop of Lincoln, a man of great authority with the king, and afterward cardinal, was the chief cause that this lady Mary was married to the old French king, with whom the French had dealt under-hand to befriend him in that match.

("1) Where the proud dauphin, for thy valour's sake,

Chose thee at tilt his princely part to take. Francis duke of Valois and dauphin of France, at the marriage of the lady Mary, in honour thereof proclaimed a joust; where he chose the duke of Suffolk and the marquis of Dorset for his aids at all martial exercises.

(1) Galeas and Bounarme, matchless for their might.

This County Galeas, at the jousts, ran a course with a spear, which was at the head five inches square on every side, and at the butt nine inches square, whereby he showed his wonderous force and strength. This Bounarme, a gentleman of France, at the same time came into the field, armed at all points, with ten spears about him: in each stirrup three, under each thigh one, one under his left arm, and one in his hand; and putting his horse to the career, never stopt him till he had broken every staff. Hall.

CHARLES BRANDON, DUKE OF SUFFOLK,

TO MARY, THE FRENCH QUEEN.

But that my faith commands me to forbear,
The fault's your own, if I impatient were:
Were my dispatch such as should be my speed,
1 should want time your loving lines to read.
Here, in the court, camelion-like I fare,
And as that creature, only feed on air;
All day I wait, and all the night I watch,
And starve mine ears, to hear of my dispatch.
If Dover were th' Abydos of my rest,
Or pleasant Calais were my Mary's Cest',
You should not need, bright queen, to blame me
Did not the distance, to desire say no:
No tedious night from travel should be free,
Till through the seas, with swimming still to thee,
A snowy path I made unto the bay,
So bright as is that nectar-stained way,
The restless Sun by travelling doth wear,
Passing his course to finish up the year.
But Paris locks my love within the main,
And London yet thy Brandon doth detain.

[so,

Of thy firm love thou putt'st me still in mind,
But of my faith, not one word can I find.
(') When Longavile to Mary was affy'd,
Aud thou by him wast made king Lewis' bride,
How oft I wish'd, that thou a prize might'st be,
That I in arms might combat him for thee!
And in the madness of my love distraught,
A thousand times his murder have fore-thought:
"But that th' all-seeing pow'rs, which sit above,
Regard not madmen's oaths, nor faults in love,
And have confirm'd it by the grant of Heav'n,
That lovers' sins on Earth should be forgiv'n:
For never man is half so much distress'd,
As he that loves, to see his love possess'd."
Coming to Richmond after thy depart,
(Richmond, where first thou stol'st away my
Methought it look'd not as it did of late, [heart)
But wanting thee, forlorn and desolate ;
In whose fair walks thou often hast been seen,
To sport with Katbʼrine, Henry's beauteous queen.

Astonishing sad winter with thy sight,
So that for thee the day hath put back :ight;
And the small birds, as in the pleasant spring,
Forgot themselves, and have begun to sing.
So oft as I by Thames go and return,
Methinks for thee the river yet doth mourn,
Whom I have seen to let his stream at large,
Which like a handmaid waited on thy barge;
And if thou happ'st against the flood to row,
Which way it ebb'd, it presently would flow,
Weeping in drops upon the labouring oars,
For joy that it had got thee from the shores.
The swans with music that the roothers make,
Ruffing their plumes, came gliding on the lake,
As the swift dolphins by Arion's strings,
Were brought to land with Siren ravishings:
The flocks and herds that pasture near the flood,
To gaze upon thee have forborne their food,
And sat down sadly mourning by the brim,
That they by nature were not made to swim.

When as the post to England's royal court,
Of thy hard passage brought thee true report,
(3) How in a storm thy well-rigg'd ships were tost,
And thou thyself in danger to be lost,

I knew 'twas Venus loath'd that aged bed,
Where beauty so should be dishonoured;
Or fear'd the sea-nymphs haunting of the lake,
If thou but seen, their goddess should forsake.
And whirling round her dove-drawn coach about,
To view the navy then in lanching out,
Her airy mantle loosely doth unbind,
Which fanning forth a rougher gale of wind,
Wafted thy sails with speed unto the land,
And ran thy ships on Bullen's harbouring strand.
How should I joy of thy arrive to hear!
But as a poor sea-faring passenger,
After long travel, tempest-torn and wrack'd,
By some unpitt'ing pirate that is sack'd;
Hears the false robber that hath stol'n his wealth,
Landed in some safe harbour, and in health,
Enrich'd with the invaluable store,
For which he long had travelled before.

We heard how Lewis met thee on the way; [day,
(3) When thou to Abvile held'st th' appointed
Where thou, in glitt'ring tissue strangely dight,
(*) Appear'dst unto him like the queen of light :
In cloth of silver all thy virgin train,

In beauty sumptuous, as the northern wain ;
And thou alone the foremost glorious star,
Which ledd'st the team of that great waggoner.
What could thy thought be, but as I did think,
When thine eyes tasted what mine ears did drink?
(3) A cripple king, laid bed-rid long before,
Yet at thy coming crept out of the door:
"Twas well he rid, he had no legs to go,
But this thy beauty forc'd his body to:
For whom a cullice had more fitter been,
Than in a golden bed a gallant queen,
To use thy beauty as the miser gold,
Which hoards it up but only to behold;
Still looking on it with a jealous eye,
Fearing to lend, yet loving usury.
O sacrilege (if beauty be divine)

The profane hand to touch the hallow'd shrine !
To surfeit sickness on the sound man's diet;
To rob content, yet still to live unquiet;
And having all, to be of all beguil'd,
And yet still longing like a little child.

(6) When marquis Dorset, and the valiant Grays, To purchase fame, first cross'd the narrow seas,

With all the knights that my associates went,
In honour of thy nuptial tournament,
Think'st thou I joy'd not in thy beauty's pride,
(2) When thou in triumph didst through Paris ride?
Where all the streets, as thou didst pass along,
With arras, bisse, and tapestry, were hung;
Ten thousand gallant citizens prepar'd,
In rich attire, thy princely self to guard:

Next them, three thousand choice religious men,
In golden vestments follow'd on again;
And in procession as they came along,
With Hymenæus sang thy marriage-song.

'Twere oversight in that, at which we aim,
To put the hazard on an after-game;
With patience then let us our hopes attend,
And till I come, receive these lines I send.

ANNOTATIONS OF THE CHRONICLE HISTORY.

(') When Longavile to Mary was affy'd.

The duke of Longavile, who was prisoner in England, upon the peace to be concluded between England and France, was delivered, and married the princess Mary for Lewis the French king his

(2) How in a storm thy well-rigg'd ships were tost, And thou, &c.

As the queen sailed for France, a mighty storm arose at sea, so that the navy was in great danger, and was severed, some driven upon the coast of Flanders, some on Britain: the ship wherein the queen sail'd was driven into the haven at Bullen, with very great danger.

(') When thou to Abvile held'st th' appointed day.

King Lewis met her by Abvile, near to the forest of Arders, and brought her into Abvile with great solemnity.

() Next these, five dukes, as did their places fall, master.
With each of them a princely cardinal:
Then thou, on thy imperial chariot set,
Crown'd with a rich impearled coronet;
Whilst the Parisian daines, as thy train past,
Their precious incense in abundance cast.
As Cynthia, from her wave-embattel'd shrouds
Op'ning the west, comes streaming thro' the clouds,
With shining troops of silver-tressed stars,
Attending on her, as her torch-bearers;
And all the lesser lights about her throne
With admiration stand as lookers on;
Whilst she alone, in height of all her pride,
The queen of light along her sphere doth glide.
When on the tilt my horse like thunder came,
No other signal had I, but thy naine;
Thy voice my trumpet, and my guide thine eyes,
And but thy beauty, I esteem'd no prize.
(") That large limb'd Almain, of the giants' race,
Which bare strength on his breast, fear in his face,
Whose sinew'd arms with his steel-temper'd blade,
Through plate and male such open passage made;
Upon whose might the Frenchmen's glory lay,
And all the hope of that victorious day:
Thou saw'st thy Brandon beat him on his knee,
Off'ring his shield a conquer'd spoil to thee.
But thou wilt say, perhaps, I vainly boast,
And tell thee that which thou already know'st.
No, sacred queen, my valour I deny,
It was thy beauty, not my chivalry.

One of thy tressed curls there falling down,
As loth to be imprison'd in thy crown,
I saw the soft air sportively to take it,
And into strange and sundry forms to make it ;
Now parting it to four, to three, to twain,
Now twisting it, then it untwist again;
Then make the threads to dally with thine eye,
A sunny candle for a golden fly.

At length from thence one little tear it got,
Which falling down as tho' a star had shot,
My up-turn'd eye pursu'd it with my sight,
The which again redoubled all my might.

'Tis but in vain of my descent to boast,
When Heav'n's lamp shines, all other lights be lost;
Falcons seem poor, the eagle sitting by,
Whose brood surveys the Sun with open eye;
(10) Else might my blood find issue from his force,
Who beat the tyrant Richard from his horse
On Bosworth plain, whom Richmond chose to wield
His glorious ensign in that conqu'ring field;
And with his sword in his dear sov'reign's sight,
To his last breath stood fast in Henry's right.
Then, beauteous empress, think this safe delay
Shall be the even to a joyful day:
"Foresight doth still on all advantage lie,
Wise men must give place to necessity;
To put back ill,
our good we must forbear;

Better first fear, than after still to fear,”

(*) Appear'd'st unto him like the queen of light. Expressing the sumptuous attire of the queen and her train, attended by the chief of the nobility of England, with six and thirty ladies, all in cloth of silver, their horses trapped with crimson velvet.

(") A cripple king, laid bed-rid long before.

King Lewis was a man of great years, troubled much with the gout, so that he had long time before little use of his legs.

(*) When marquis Dorset and the valiant Grays.

The duke of Suffolk, when the proclamation came into England, of jousts to be holden in France at Paris; he, for the queen's sake, his mistress, obtained of the king to go thither; with whom went the marquis of Dorset and his four brothers, the lord Clinton, sir Edward Nevill, sir Giles Capell, Thomas Cheney, which all went over with the duke as his assistants.

(') When thou in triumph didst through Paris ride.
A true description of the queen's entering into
Paris, after her coronation performed at St.
Dennis.

() Next these, five dukes, as did their places fall.
The dukes of Alanson, Bourbon, Vandome,

Longaville, Suffolk, with five cardinals.

(") That large-limb'd Almain of the giants' race.

Francis Valois, the dauphin of France, envying the glory that the Englishmen had obtained at the

tilt, brought in an Almain secretly, a man thought

almost of incomparable strength, who encounter'd Charles Brandon at the barriers: but the duke grappling with him, so beat him about the head with the pummel of his sword, that the blood came out of the sight of his cask.

() Else might my blood find issue from his force, Who beat, &c.

Sir William Brandon, standard-bearer to the