BOUILLON

Worser Aughter, thou seest how Fortune turns er wheel. We that but late were mounted up aloft, Lul'd in the skirt of that inconstant Dame, Are now thrown headlong by her ruthless hand, To kiss that earth whereon our feet sho ld stand. What censuring eye, that sees me thus deject, Would take this shape to be that famous Duke, Which hath made Boloigne through the world renowned, And all our raze with fame and honour crowned? I'll tell thee Girl. The French King, and my self, Upon some terms grew in a strange debate, And taking careful vantage of the time, While I with all my powers, in aid of William The Norman Duke, now English Conqueror, Was busily employed; he seized my right, Planting another, and supplanting me. This is the ground of my extremity. A conquered Kingdom is not easily kept, He hath so much ado to guard his own, That mine is buried in oblivion; And I am forced to lose the name of Earl, And live in Land n Like a Ci tizen. My four sons are bound prentice to four Trades. Godfrey my eldest boy I have made a Mercer; Guy my next son, enrolled in Goldsmiths Trade; My third son Charles bound to and Haberdasher; Young Eustace is a Grocer: all high born, Yet of the City-trades they have no scorn. Thus bore necessity hath made me seek Some refuge, to sustain our poverty. And having placed my sons in such a sort, The little wealth I have left, I leave to thee. My self will travail to the holy Land; And ere I lie within the earth's vast womb, Pay my devout vows at my Saviour's Tomb. Godfrey, Guy, Charles, young Eustace all at once, Divide a father's blessing in four parts, And share my prayers amongst you equally. First Godfrey, tell me how thou likest thy Trade? And knowing in thy thoughts what thou hast been, How canst thou brook to be as thou art now? What says my third son Charles? What says my youngest boy? Sons, ye must all forget your birth and honours, And look into the times necessity. I know ye are persuaded: Think not, sons, the names of Prentice can disparage you. For howsoever of you esteemed they be, Even Kings themselves have of these Trades been free. I made a vow to see the holy Land, And in the same my Saviour's Sepulchre. Having so well disposed you; I will now First bless you Boys, and then prefer my vow. Bridle these humours sons, expel them clean, And your high Spirits within your breasts contain: While I my tedious Pilgrimage prepare, To spend my age in poverty and prayer. My firstborn, fi st farewell; my second next: Charles, Eustace, Daughter: Here my blessings say, Your wishes bear me on my sacred way. Villains I know you drag me to my death: And ye shall do me and exceeding grace. Tween joy and fear amazed in heart I stand: Does my son Charles led this unruly band. How camest thou here? why dost thou call thy self My only son? having three brother's more, Which unto me thy beauteous mother boar. Mine eyes have vowed to die the self same death My sons have done: son let me weep a while, To bring the Like destruction to my eyes; These in salt tears; they in a sea of brine. Not for the world; since I have lost my sons, All outward joys are from my heart removed: Vain pleasures I abhor, all things defy, That teach not to despair, or how to die, Yet ere I leave the world I vow to see, His holy blessed Tomb that died for me. Thanks my deer son, expense it will defray, And serve to deal to poor men by the way. And now farewell sweet Charles, thou all my sons, For now the last sand in my hourglass runs. TO ke it my friends; full little needs this strife. First take the gold, and after take my life. Thou dost me a great kindness, let it come; God take my soul, now when thou wilt strike home. My former want hath now sufficient store, For having seen this, I desire no more. How fair and smooth my stream of pleasure runs, To look at once on Zion and my sons! My fervent zeal, bids I should not deny: It brings my soul to heaven before I die. So ne Guy they are not. By Divine instinct The heavens have lent me a Prophetic spirit. This she was thy troublous reign, mutines from far, Shall fright thy Towns and Provinces with war. O were my daughter here this joy to see; How light her soul! how glad would my heart be! My daughter. My daughter Bellam Franca! I am to happy, and too full of joy. Heaven powers on me more good then I can bear: I that before was starved, now surfeit here. This fortune makes our joys mere comical. The fame of our success all Europe rings: The father, Patriarch, sees his sons all Kings. Well hast thou done to overcome thy fate, Making thy mind conformed to thy state. How likes my Guy, the Goldsmiths faculty. Thanks my fair son, By whose stout valour I have freedom won. I can bestow upon you nought but thanks, Unless you will divide this gold with me. By viewing him my former griefs abound, Even such a one was Eustace that was drowned: Which had he lived, his stature, years, and all, Would have resembled his, so straight, so tall, So fair, so strong, of such a worthy spirit. But his blessed soul, by this, does heaven inherit. Grief for his death so near my heart does dwell, That for my life I cannot say farewell. O brothers, let not me move you to ruth: Happy is he that suffers for the truth. The joys to come exceed the present grief; Secure your selves, for CHRIST is my relief. I know thee Charles. Eustace I know it is: but to my question. How canst thou brook to be a Prentice, boy? Their wished sighed will cheer my aged heart: And I will bless them all before I partly. Fair son, I was the happen Bullen Earl: But now my son— I know thee Godfrey..