JANE SHORE

What prisons this? I a simple one. Faith none perfectly, My physic does but mitigate the pain A little while, and then it comes again. Master lieutenant I believe you well. Peace good sir Robert, 'tis not worthy praise, Nor yet worth thanks, that is of duty done, For you know well, the world does know too well, That all the coals of my poor charity, Cannot consume the scandal of my name, What remedy? well, tell me gentle knight, What meant your kind salute and gentle speech, At our first meetin , when you seemed to bless The time and place of our encounter here? Let me see him and all his company. I pity him, and that same proper man, That turns his back, ashamed of this distress. Well Captain Stranguidge, were the king at home, I could say more. Then courage sirs I'll use my fairest means to save your lives, In the mean season spend that for my sake. Whither my Lord? Good my Lord Marquess Dorset wrong me not. Against my will I wrong her good my Lord, Yet am ashamed to see her majesty. Sweet Lord excuse me, say you saw me not. Must I my Lord? what will she do to me? Use violence on me now the kings away? Alas my Lord, behold this shower of tears, Which kind King Edward would compassionate, Bring me not to her, she will slit my nose. Or mark my face, or spurn me unto death. Look on me Lord, can ye find in your heart? To have me spoiled that never thought you harm? Oh rather with your rapier run me through, Then carry me to the displeased Queen. Great Queen, yet hear me, if my sin committed, Have not stopped up all passage to your mercy, To tell y wrongs that I have done your highness, Might make revenge exceed extremity, O had I words or tongue to utter it, To plead my woman's weakness, & his strength, That was the only worker of my fallen. Even innocence her self would blush for shame, Once to be nam or spoken of in this, Let them expect for mercy whose offence, May but be called sin, o mine is more, Prostrate as earth, before your highness feet, Inflict what torments you shall think most meet. All I can do is all too little too, Tut to requite the least partly of this grace, The dearest thoughts that harbour in this breast, Shall in your service only be expressed. O royal Edward, love, love, thy beauteous Queen, The only perfect mirror of her kind, For all the thoysest virtues can be nam'de. O let not my bewitching looks withdraw Your deer affections from the dearer Queen, But to requite the grace that she hath shown, To me the worthless creature on this earth, To banish me the Court immediately, Great King let me to beg one boon of thee, That Shores wife never do her more injury. Why there is one was but a passenger. Shall he die too? Come Edward, I must not take this answer. Needs must I have some grace for Stranguidge. God forgive Thee, even as I forgive, And pray thou mayest repent while thou dost live, I am as glad to leave this loathed light, As to embrace thee on our marriage night. To die unknown thus, is my greatest good, That Matthew Shores not hanged, but Matthew flood. For floods of woe have washed away the shore That never wife nor kin shall look on more: Now when you will, I am prepared to go. Alas I see that even my smallest stay, Had lost my labour, and cast them away, God knows I basted all that ere I might, Here master Vaux, King Edward greets you well, His gracious pardon frees this Gentleman, And all his company from shameful death. You must discharge them paying of their fees, Which for I fear their store is very small, I will defray, hold, here, take purse and all, Nay master Vaux 'tis gold, if not enough, Send to me, I will pay you royally. Thanks good M. Lieutenant of the Tower. Sirrah prepare my borse, why stay you here? Pray you commend me to my noble friend The Duke of Clarence now your prisoner, Bid him not doubt the kings displeasures passed I hope to gain him favour and release. Ah my Lord Lovel, God bless me from his kindness: No sooner was the white staff in his hand, But finding me and the right woeful Queen, Sadly bemoaning such a mighty lose: Here is no place quoth he, you must be gone, We have other matters now to think upon. For you, (quoth he to me) ant bit his lip, And stroke me with his staff, but said no more. Whereby I know he means me no good. Why how now loiterer? make you no more haste? When will my trunks and all my stuff be brought, If you thus loiter, go, make hast withal. Now gentle mistress Blage the only friend, That fortune leaves Me to rely upon, My counsels Closet and my Tower of strength, To whom for safety I retire my self, To be secure in these tempestuous times, Oh smile on me, and give me gentle looks, If I be welcome, then with cheerful heart, And willing hand show me true signs thereof. A way with titles, lay by courtly terms, The Case is altered now the King is dead, And with his life my favouring friends are fled, No Madam now, but as I was before, Your faithful kind companion, poor Jane Shore. How if misfortune my folly do succeed. If want consume the wealth I had before. But the Protector prosecutes his hate. You will be weary of so bad a guest. Ah mistress Blage, you tender me such love, As all my sorrows from my soul remove, And though my portion be not very large, Yet come I not to you to be a charge, Coin, plate, and fuels prizde at lowest rate, I bring with me to maintain my estate, Worth twenty thousand pound, and my array, If you survive to see my dying day, From you no penny will I give away. Never since he fled. Oh mistress Blage, now put you in my head That kills my heart, why should I breath this air, Whose lost good name no treasure can repair? O were he here with me to led his life, Although he never used me as a wife, But as a drudge to spurn me with his ecte, Yet should I think with him that life were sweet, Stand by and give me leave. I warrant you woman, be not so afraid, If not this bloodstone hangdc about his neck, This balm will staunch it by the help of God: Lift up his arm while I do both his wound, The sign belike was here when he was hurt, Or else some principal and chief vein is pierced. Give him some Rosa-solis mistress Blage, And that will Like wise animate the sprites, And send alacrity unto the heart, That hath been struggling with the pangs of death. Yet let me have those jewels and that money, Which is within my trunks. Even when and whither you will, and would to God, The King as soon could rid my soul of sin, As he may stripped my body of these rags. O God forbid: I know the Kings Edia Set you a work, and not your own desires. Farewell unto you both: and London too, Farewell to thee, where first I was inticde, That scandalizde thy dignity with shame, But now thou hast returned me Triple blame, My tongue that gave consent inioynde to beg. Mine eyes adiudgde to hourly laments, Mine arms for their embracings, catch the air, And these quick nimble feet that were so ready To step into a kings for bidden bed, London thy ints have punished for their pride, And thou hast drunk their blood for thy revenge, What now avails to think what I have been, Then welcome nakedness and poverty, Welcome contempt, welcome you barren fields, Welcome the lack of meat, and lack of friends, And wretched Jane, according to thy state, Fit here, fit here, and lower if might be: All things that breath in their extremity, Have some recourse of succour, thou hast none, The child offended flies unto the mother, The Soldier struck, retires unto his Captain, The fish distressed, slides into the river, Birds of the air do fly unto their dammes, And underneath their wings are quickly shrouded Nay, Beatrice the spanniel, & his master mones him, But I have neither where to shroud my self, Nor any one to make my moan unto, Come patience then, and though my body pine, Make then a banquet to refresh my soul, Let hearts deep throbbing sighs be all my bred, My drink salt tears, my guests repentam ̄ to thoughts That who so knew me, and does see me now, May shun by me the breach of wedlock's vow. If grie e to speech free passage could afford, Or w e I had a fitting word, I migh complain, or if my floods of tears, Could move remorse of minds, or pierce dul ears, Or wash away my cares, or cleanse my crime: With words & tears I would be wail the time. But it is bootless, why live I to see, All those despised that do pity me. Despised? alas, destroyed, and led to death, That gave me alms here to prolong my breath. Fair Dams behold, let my example prove, There is no love Like to a husbands love. Alas poor soul, Was never innocent thus put to death. How can I look upon my husbands face, That shamed my self, and wrought his deep disgrace Ah Shore, is't possible thou canst forgine Me? I cannot hope thou wilt: My faults so great that I cannot expect it. Ah, I am faint, how happy Airc art thou, Not feeling that which does afflict us now? To take the air here in Saint Georges field, Sir Robert Brackenbury, and to visit some Poor patients that cannot visit me . And all the rest, o were the king returned, There might be hope, but ere his coming home, They may be tried, condemned, and iudgde, and dead. I'll rack my credit, and will launch my crowns, To save their lives, if they have done no murder. Pray for me friends and I will pray for you, God send you better hap then I expect, Go to my lodging you, and if I perish, Take what is there in lieu of your true service. Even what you will (great Queen) here do I lie, Humble and prostrate at your Highness feet, Inflict on me what may revenge your wrong, Was never lamb abided more patiently, Then I will do. Call all your griefs to mind, And do even what you will, or how likes you, I will not stir, I will not shriek or cry, Be it torture poison, any punishment, Was never Done, or Turtle more submiss, Then I will be unto your chastisement. Most high and mighty Queen, may I believe There can be found such mercy in a woman, And in a Queen, more then in a wife, So deeply wronged as I have wronged you? In this bright crystal mirror of your mercy, I see the greatness of my sin the more, And makes my fault more odious in mine eyes, Your princely pity now does wound me more, Then all your threatenings ever did before. No Captain Stranguidge, let the king command Your lives and service, who hath given you life, These and such offices conscience bids me do. Oh God descend, good friends pray for the king, More bitter are the news which he does bring, Then those were sweet I brought to you but late: If Edward die, confounded is my state, I'll hast unto him and will spend my blood, To save his life or do him any good. I my Lord Lovel, they are too true indeed, Royal King Edward now hath breathed his last, The Queen turned out, and every friend put by, None now admitted, but whom Richard please. First let me die ere I do put my trust, In any fliering Spaniel of you all. Go Jockey, take down all my hangings, And quickly see my trunks be conuayde forth, To mistress Blages, and Inn in Lombardstreete, The Flower de Luce, good Jockey make some speed, She, she must be my refuge in this need. See it done quickly Jockey. Blame him not mistress Blage, the best of them In such a case as this, may been to seek. Now fellows raise him body from the chair And gently let him walk a turn or two. Sir take my counsel and fit down again, It is not good to be so bold of foot, Upon the sudden till you have more strength. How mean you sir? I understand you not? Lament my case, for what? for Edwards death? I know that I have lost a gracious friend, But that is not to be remedied now. I know he loves me not and for that cause, I have withdrawn me wholly from the court. The proclamation? no, what proclamation? Gods will be done, I know my sin is great, And he that is omnipotent and joust, Cannot but must reward me heavily. Let it not grieve, I must have herd of it, And now as good, as at another time. Farewell to all that still shall be my song, Let men impose upon me never such wrong, And this extremity shall seem the less, In that I have a friend to lean unto, Sweet mistress Blage, there were upon the earth, No comfort left for miserable Jane, But that I do presume upon your love, I know though tyrant Richard had set down, A greater penalty then is proclaimed, Which cannot well be thought, yet in your house, I should have succour and relief beside. When was it ever éen Jane Shore was false Either unto her country, or her king? And therefore 'tis not well good mistress Blage, That you upbraid me with a traitors name. Time was that you did tell me otherwise, And studied how to set a gloss on that Which now you say is ugly and deformde. We will not mistress Blage dispute of that, But now in charity and womanhood, Let me find favour if it be but this, That in some bairn or stable I may shroud. Till otherwise I be provided for. O you did promise I should never want, And that your house was mine, & swore the same, To keep your oath be then compassionate. O that my graven had the ̄ been made my house, When either first I went unto the Court, Or from the court returned unto this place. My robe of shame? O that so soul a name Should be applied unto so fair a garment, Which is no more to been condemnde of shame, Then snow of putrefaction is deserved, To cover and infectious heap of dung, My robe of shame, but not my shame put off, For that sits branded on my forehead still, And therefore in derision was I wrapped, In this white Sheet: and in derision boar This burning taper, to express my folly, That having light of reason to direct me, Delighted yet in byways of dark error. Master Lieutenant, in my heart I thank you, For this kind comfort to a wretched soul: Welcome weet prayer-book, food of my life, The sovereign balm for my sick conscience: Thou shalt be my souls pleasure and delight, To wipe my sins out of Ichouacs sighed. B. Do so good mistress Shore, now I must leave you, Because some other business calls me hence, And God I pray regard your penitence. Farewell sir Robert, and for this good to Me, The God of heaven be mindful still of thee. Yes mistress Blage, I freely pardon you, You have done me no wrong, come fit by me: It so in wealth, w y not in poverty? Why woman, Ric hard that hath banished me, And seeks my ruin (c useless though it be) Do I in heart pray for, and will do still, Come thou & share wit h me what God hath sent, A stranger gave it me, and partly thereof I do as freely now bestow on you. Good sir your name, that pities poor In. Shore That in my prayers I may remember you. Gods blessing be your guide where ere you go, Thus mistress Blage you see idst our woe, For all the world can do, God sends relief, And will not yet we peris in our grief, Come let us step into some secret place. Ah M. Air the time hath been ere now, When I have kn eld to Edward on my knees, And begged for him, that now does make me beg. I have given him, when he hath begged of me, Though he forbids to give me when I beg, I have ere now relieved him and his, Though he and his deny relief to me: Had I been envious then, as Richard now, I had not starved, nor Edwards sons been murdered, Nor Richard lived to put you now to death. Lord, is my sin so horrible and grievous, That I should now become a murderer? I have saved the life of many a man condemned, But never was the death of man before. That any man thus for my sake should die, Afflicts me more then all my misery. Farewell, farewell, thou for thy alms dost die. And I must end here starude in misery, In life my friend, in death isle not forsake thee, Thou goest to heaven, I hope to overtake thee. Whats he that begs the burial of my friend, And hath so oftentimes relieved me? Ah gentle sir, to comfort my sad woe, Let me that good kind man of mercy know. My Husband? then break and live no more. Then God reward Thee, for we now must partly, I feel cold death does seize upon my heart. O dying marriage, oh , sweet married death Thou graven which only shouldst partly faithful friends, Bringest us together, and dast I yne our h nds, O king death, even in this worser king life, Yet ere I go, once Matthew kiss thy wife. Have you bestowed our small benevolence, On the poor prisoners in the common Gaol, Of the white Lion and the Kings bench? fit thou there, here I my place will have, Give Me thy hand, thus we embrace our graven, Ah Jane, he that the depth of woe will see, Let him but now behold our misery: But be content, this is the best of all, Lower then now we are, we cannot fallen.