SHAW

My Lord, I am going by commanndement, Unto the Marshalsea, to Captain Stranguidge, For Piracy of late condemnde to die, There to confess him and his company, That done, e come with speed back to the king, And make no doubt but e effect the thing. Farewell my Lord of Gloucester. Well met my good Lord Lovel. Why to the Tower, to shrive the Duke of Clarence, Who as I hear is salne so grievous sick, As it is thought be can by no means escape. Drowned in a butt of Malmesey? that is strange, Doubtless he never woned misdoe himself? O fowl words my Lord, no more of that, The world knows nothing, then what should I fear? Does not your honour seek promotion? O give the Doctor then a little leave, So that he gain preferment with a King, Cares not who goes to wrack, whose heart does wring. What else my Lord? That way the current of our fortune runs, By noble Richard gallant royal Richard, He is the man must only do us good, So I have honour, let me swim through blood. My Lord, be but at Paul's cross on Sunday next, I hope I have it here shall soundly prove, King Edwards chtldren not legitimate. Nay, and that for Edward ruling now, And George the Duke of Clarence so late dead: Their mother happened to tread the shoe awry, Why what is Richard then? Tut, lawful man, he says it so himself. And what he says isle be so hold to swear, Though in my soul I know it otherwise, Beware promotion while you live my Lord. Spuria vitulamina non agent radices altas. Bastardly slips have always slender grouth. Ah Shaw, this was the cursed theme, That at Paul's cross thou madest thy sermon of, To prove the lawful issue of thy King, God out of wedlock, illegitimate. Ah Duke of Gloucester this didst thou procure. Did Richard (villain) no it was thy fault, Thou wouldst be won to such a damned deed, Which now to think on makes my soul to bleed. Ah Friar Anselm, sleep among the blessed, Thy propheste thus falsely did I wrest. It did, it did. Here friend, what is thy will with me? I cannot come, I pray Thee take that Friar, For he can do it better far then I. Dost thou not? no, thy untainted soul Cannot discern the horrors that I do. With all my heart, would it were ended now, So it were done, I care not where nor how. Amen. My Lord of Gloucester, I recefude the same From old Friar Anselm of S. Bartholmews. My Lord of Clarence, I must tell your Lord , His Highness is much troubled in his sickness With this same prophesy of G. Who is this G? Oft times he will demand, then will he sighs, And name his brother George, your self my Lord, And then he strikes his breast, I promise you, This morning in th'extreamest of his fit, He lay so still, we all thought he had slept, When suddenly, George is the G. quoth he, And gave a groan, and turned his face away. This Christian Patience at the point of death, Does argue he hath led no wicked life, How ever heaven hath laid this cross on him, Well Matthew Flood. for so thou callest thy self, Finish a good course as thou hast begun, And cl re thy conscience by confession, What knowest thou of the Duke of Exceters death? More happy he, well Flood forgive the world, As thou wilt have forgiveness from the heavens. Then concerning this for which thou diet, knew Stranguidge of the league betwixt the Kings before he took that prize? Stranguidge what say you? You see theres but a turn betwixt your lives, You must be next, confess and save yeur soul, Concerning that wherein I questionde him: I am your ghostly father to absolve You of your sins, if you confess the truth. Pity that ere awry she trodden her shoe. My patron Gloucester will cross it if he can. Do gentle Flood, and we will pray for Thee. Which God defend.