ROBERT

What mean these hasty Princes thus to jar, And bend their swords against their mutual breasts, Whose edge were sharpened for their enemies crests? Princes, I charge you by the honoured zeal, And love to him for whom you come to fight, To cease this envy and abortive jar. The fields are broad enough for both to march, And neither have the vantage of the ground. For Gods sake and our Saviour's, in whose book Ye now are entered as his soldiers pressed, In whose Camp Royal if ye mutiny Ye are found guilty by his martial Law, And worthy death: I charge you Princes both, T'abandon this injurious enmity. Stand you betwixt the Soldiers, lest this sting Of blind seditions, reign in this our Army And feed upon our bodies Like a plague. Princes I charge you by your Saviour's blood Shed for your sins, ye shed none at this time. Such joust proportion Princes still should keep. Brave Lord of Bulloigne join your Troops with ours, That are by birth approved Englishmen: And Lord of France that under your conduct Have ready armed ten thousand fighting men, To fight with us for fair salem, Di rest by misbelieving Infidels, Let us unite a friendly Christian league. We have entered, valiant Lords, upon our way Even to the amid of fertile Lombardy, By writers termed the Garden of the world. Half oh our way we have overcome already: Then let us here in camp upon these Downs. But stay, what threatening voice of warfare sounds. Addest thou unto thy message, Knight, or no? Princes, have patience, let me answer him. Knight, I condemn not thee for speaking boldly The proud defiance that thy Master sends: But mildly we return our pleasures thus. We do confess it was some oversight To march so far, without some notice given Unto the Lord and Prince that owes the Land: And we could wish that we had craved his leave. But since it's thus, that we have marched thus far, And basely to retire is infamous. (If not with leave) we forward mean to go: Despite of King or Emperor shall say no. Well, God for us, for our intent is good: Charged be their souls with all this Christian blood. My name is Robert Duke of Normandy. God keep Duke Robert from so foul a shame. No proud Italians all our pirits are fire, Which burns not downward, but is made aspire. Prince we confess we did foe get ou selves, Presuming on that ancient privilege Which every Christian brother Prince should claim One in the interest of another's name And error we confess, though not a fault. But basely with dishonour back to fly, And to be held as cowards we deny. And that I'll never do. Then what ten thousand Christian lives should right, These two brave Lords will end in single fight. Nor I this Prince: For were these spirits spent, All Christendom their Fortune's might lament. Partly them on equal odds, and equal terms: Both a Like valiant, both have honour woe ne, More valorous live not underneath the Sun. What Champion shall we have to answer him? That Ho st should lose ten thousand Pagans lives With the rich honour of their overthrow, That should but lose his Champion in this combat If both should perish, our brave Christian Army Should be more weak by thousands then it was. We pawn our faith to this perpetual league: And now we show our selves that Christian Host, In which true peace should flourish and abound: Unto this peace let Drums and Trumpets found. Champions embrace, and all your stern debate Flourish. Pour in abundance on the Pagans heads. Princes and Lords, let our united bans Win back Judea from the Pagans hands. That Lady seems to me The fairest creature ever eye did see. Nymph. Why not I? If wealth will win the thoughts of that chaste Lady, I le bid as fair as any for her love. And sword speak thou for me. The Norman Robert keeps his keen, T'abate the fury of the Sultans spleen. That tongue brings peace, to thee will I attend. Proceed, proceed. I will not bear the badge of Christendom In such a Bedlam mad society. Lords give me leave to temper our decree, The Law is death, but such is our regard Of Christian blood, we moderate it thus. Because we know your worths, your lives are saved: Yet that the world shall see we prize our Laws, And are not partial should we fit on Kings; We doom you everlasting banishment From out the Christian Army. These, for examples sake, must be removed, And though their absence will much weaken us, Yet we had rather put us in Gods guard, Lessening our own strength, then to bear with that Which might in time led to our overthrow. March forward Lords; our love we will defer. Prince Tancred, till our wars chief heat be spent, Keep still this beauteous Lady in your Tent. O whither will blind love conduct my steps? Prince Tancred's Dear, and English Roberts Joy, Is fled in secret, and hath left our Tents. Thus Like and Errant and Adventurous Knight, I have left the Host to follow her fair search, And durst not trust the air with my intent. This way, they say, she went; the Campe's secure. This way unknown, in secret I pursue her. Behold a traveller! I will inquire If chance hath cast his eye upon my love. Love that drew me, hath drawn that knight along Being but a child, a Giant's not so strong. What are you, that, Like cowards, with such odds Assault us thus unfurnished for the wars. Tush, I am Pagans swords proof, and my stars, Have marked me for a Conqueror in these wars. A prisoner, Robert! this my comfort be: He makes me bound that best can set me free. God, and Saint George. Some Angel in the habit of a Knight, Hath rescued us: such heavy downright blows Could never come from any mortal arm. For every blow he reached, was certain death. Departed on a sudden ere we know, To whom our freedoms, and our lives we owe! Behold the high walls of , Which Titus and Vesp once brake down: From off these Turrets have the ancient Jews Seen world's of people mustering on these Plains. O Princes, which of all your eyes are dry, To look upon this Temple, now destroyed. Yond r did stand the great I ahs House, In amid of all his people, there he dwelled: V ssels of gold did serve his Sacrifice, And with him for the people sp ke the Priests. There was the Ark, the Show-bread, Aarons Rod, Sanctum, Sanctorum, and the Cherubines. Now in that holy place, where God himself Was personally present, Pagans dwell. False Gods are reared, each Temple Idols bears. O who can see this, and abstain from tears? Found a Parlee; I see your hearts are fired, Your souls with victory from heaven inspired. Let us rejoice, And to your plausive Fortune's give our voice. Drums, alarm. Triumphant honour hovers over our Arms What gallant spirit bravely hath born hence The Emperors Standard, slaughtered his proud Guard, And in the teed thereof hung up his Shield? Renowned Christian, ever honoured be, It was thy sword pro red us liberty. Kingdoms nor Crowns can hire it at our hands, It shall not be, we say it shall not be. What are you Lords? we charge you by his honour Whom in your outward habit you profess, To tell us both what and from whence you are. You have redeemed all your offences passed, Deserving best in this society: But when you freed me, you did bear that shield. This accident breeds wonders in my thoughts. Were you the four young London Prentices, That in the ships were wracked on Goodwins sands? Were said to have perished then of no repute? Now come the least of you to lead and Host, And to be found the sons to a great Duke? We witness all your martial chivalry. Though he trust his strength, Yet will we meet his forces face to face, When the dry earth shall quaff your bloods apace. Thou under whom we fight, this day defend us, For unto thy protection we commend us. Princes, this day we are espoused to death: A better place to die in, then this vale, in which our Saviour's Sepulere remains, What man in all our Army could desire? Speak, how have you disposed our Officers. One half maintain the battery beat the walls, While the other keeps them play in the open fields. Soldan, survey oh S too. From England, the best brood of martial spirits, Whose walls the Ocean washes white as snow, For which you S rangers call it Albion: From France, a Nation both renowned and feared, From Scotland, Wales, even to the Irish Coast, Beyond the pillars great Alcides reared, At Gades in Spain unto the Pyr H , Have we assembled men of dauntless spirits, To scourge you hence you damned Infidels. God match thy might with theirs, protect us to; To let this people know what thou canst do. Now smooth again the wrinkles of your brows, And wash the blood from off your hands in milk: With penitential praises laud our God, Ascribe all glory to the heavenly Powers, Since Zion and Jerusalem are ours. Praised be our God, we have revenged his death. Great Potentates consort him to his graven. Whose years, devotion, and most sacred life, Better can fit that holy place, then his Whose worthy sons have brought to end these wars? Princes, join hands, invest him all at once. O chosen Prince Tancred rather, Princes, we much commend you for your loves: But letters from England tell me William's dead, And by succession left the Crown to me. I say Prince Godfrey hath deserved it best. Then Crown him straight, and henceforth let his name Be through the world called Guy of Lessingham. All these desire it, I consent with them; Long li e Prince Guy, King of Jerusalem. Prince Eustace, you shall wear this Crown of State, Be King of Sicil and command that Isle. Lord Charles, the crown of Cyprus longs to you, That in the fight the King of Cyprus slew. One general voice at once proclaim them Kings. Were the fair virgin here, I would renown Her glorious beauty with the English Crown. Princes, and Lady, nothing can displease us, For we partake in all this glad content, And with applause rejoice this accident. Tancred rejoice, your love, and you your friends, Where you begin with marriage, our love ends. Kings, & kings Peers, to heaven ascribe the glory, While we to Chronicles report this story. The heavens are full of bounty; then brave Princes, First in the Temple hang these Trophies up, As a remembrance of your Fortune's passed. You good old father, wear your Patriarchs Robes, Prince Godfrey, walk you with your Crown of Thorn ; Guy with his Lady; Tancred with his wife: Charles with his Crown of Cyprus, and young Eustace Crowned with the rich Sicilian Diadem; I with the honour of the Pagans death's. So in Procession walk we to CHRIST'S Tomb, With humble hearts to pay our Pilgrimss vows. Repair we to our Countries, that once done, For Sy n and Jerusalem are won. No drop of blood falls from a Christian heart, But thy hearts blood shall ransom.