QUEEN ELEANOR

Why my lord I hope you mean, I shall be a benefactor to my fellow soldiers. Then Elinor bethink thee of a gift worthy the king of England's wife, and the king of Spain's daughter, and give such a largis, that the Chronicles of this land may crake with record of thy liberality. There my lord, neither one, two, nor three, But a poor Cipher in Agrum, to enrich good fellows, And compound their figure in their kind. Upon the 14. of December next? Alas my Lord, the time is all too short And sudden, for so great solemnity: A year were scarce enough to set a work, Tailors Imb oderes, and men of rare device, For preparation of so great estate. Trust me sweet Ned, hardly shall I bethink me, In twenty weeks what fashion robes to wear, I pray thee then defer it till the spring, That we may have our garments point device. I mean to send for Tailors into Spain, That shall confer of some fantastickt suits, With those that be our conningst Englishmen, What? let me brave it now or never Ned. Gloucester, who may this be, a bride or what? I pray ye go see, And know the reason of the harmony. Give me my pantables. Fie this hight weather how it makes me sweat, Heigh ho my heart, ah I am passing faint. Give me my fan that I may cool my face, Hold, take my mask but see you romple n to, This wind and dust see how it smolders me, Some drink good Gloucester or I die for drink, Ah Ned thou hast forgotten thy Nell I see, That she is thus enforced to follow thee. (majesty I tell thee the ground is all to base, For Elinor to honour with her steps: Whose footpace when she progressed in the street, Of Aecon and the fair Jerusalem, Was nought but costly Arras points: Fair I land tapestry and Azured silk, My milk white steed treading on cloth of ray, And trampling proudly under neath the feet, Choice of our English Woollen drapery. This climate or clowring with black congealed clouds, That takes their swelling from the marrish soil, Fraught with infectious f ogges and ruistie damps, Is far unworthy to be once embalmd: With redolence of this refreshing breath: That sweetens where it lights as do the flames, And holy fires of Vesta's sacrifice. spring, Gloucester I warrant thee upon my life, My King vouchsafs his daughter for thy wife, Sweet Ned hath not forgotten since he did woo, The Gall of love and all that longs thereto. So then it is king Edwards Policy, To have his son, for sooth son I be, A Welshman, well welshman it liketh me, And re he comes. Near worse, beshrew their hearts 'tis long on. Nay then I see I have my dream, I pray let go, You will not will you whither I will or no? You are disposed to move me. Joan aggrieved at the heart and angered worse, Because I came not right in, I think the King comes purposely to spite me, My finger itch till I have had my will, Proud Edward call in thy Elinor be still, It will not be, nor rest I any where: Till I have set it soundly on his ear. My lord I think you do it for the nonce. For Gods sake let me go. No force no harm. She vaunts that mighty England hath felt her fist: Taken a blow basely at Elinors hand, And vaunt she may good leave being cursed and coy, Lack nothing Nell while thou hast brought thy lord a lovely boy. Brother the a fist I warrant you will hold Mace as f to as ever did father or grandfather be before him. Sick mine own Ned thy Nell for thy come pany: That lured her with thy lies all so far, To follow thee unwieldy in thy war, But I forgive thee Ned my ms delight: So thy young son thou see be bravely dight, And in Carnarvan christened royally. Sweet love let him be leapt most curiously, He is thine own, as true as he is thine, Take order then that he be passing fine. Thanks gentle Lord, nurse rock the Cr dle, fie: The King so near, and here the boy to cri ? Joan take him up and sing a Lullaby. Give me some drink. Fie fie me thinks I am not where I should be, Or at the least I am not where I would be. Thanks gentle Edward, lords have at you then, Have at you all long bearded Englishmen, Have at you lords and ladies when I crave, To give your English pride a Spanish brave. Ned thou hast granted and canst not re voke it. What Ned. those locks that ever pleased thy Were her desire, where her de ight does dwell, (Nel? Wilt thou deface that silver labyrinth? More orient then pimpilde Hyancinth, Sweet Ned, thy sacred person ought not droop, Though my command m ke other gallants stoop. What logic call you this, does Edward mock his love? Call forth those renowned Friars come from France, And raise me gentle Ladies in my bed, That while this faltering engine of my speech, I lean to utter my concealed gilded, I may respect and so repent my sins Ah Joan I perish through a double wars, First in this painful prison of my soul, A world of dreadful sins help thee to sighed, And Nature h ving lost her workin power, Yields up her earthly Fortune's unto death. Next over War my soul is over preast, In thee my Conscience loaded with misdeeds, Sits seeing my Cons ience to ensue, Without especial favour from above. The c relesse sleep rule on the mountains tops, That see the Seaman floating on the swerge, The threatening winds comes springing with the floods To overwhelm and drown his craised keel, His tackestorne, his sails born over board. How pale Like Vallowe flowers the mountain stands Upon his hatches waiting for his iearke, Wringing his hands that ought to play the pomp, May blame e his fear that laboureth not for life. So thou poor soul may tell a servile tale, May council me, but I that prove thy pain. May he re thee talk: but not redress my harm, But ghastly death already is addressed, To glean the latest blossom of my life, My spirit fails me, are these Friars come? See you not holy Friars mine estate, My body weak inclining to my graven. By this eternal signs of my defects, Friars consecrate mine ineternall grief, My soul, ah wretched soul within this breast, F nt for to mount the Heavens with wings of grace, A hundred by flocking troops of sin, That stop my passage to my wished hours. Shame and remorse does stop my course of speac . Did I not think nay were I not assured, Your wisdoms would be silent in that cause, No fear could make me to be wray my self, we gentle father's I have thought it good, Not to rely upon these Englishmen, But on your troths, you holy men of France, Then as you love your life and England's weal, Keep secret my Confession from the king, For why my story nearly touches him. Whose love compared with my lose delights. With many sorrows that my heart affrights. In pride of youth when I was young and fair. And gracious in the king of England's sighed, The day before that night his Highness should, Possess the pleasure of my wedlock's bed, Caitiff accursed monster as I was, His brother Edmund beautiful and young, Upon my bridal couch by my concent, Enjoys the flower and favour of my love. And I becam a Traitress to my Lord. Good father not so weak but that I woe, My heat dothrent to think upon the time, But Why exclaims this holy Friar so O aye then for my faults religious man. For Joan of Acon the supposed child, And daughter of my Lord the English King: Is basely born begotten of a Friar. Such time as I was their ai ed in France, His one lie true and lawful son my friends, He is my hope, his son that should succeed. Is Edward of Carnarvan lately born, Now all the scruples of my troubled mind, I sighing found within your reverent ears, O pra e for pity, pray for I must die. Remit my God the folly of my youth, My groaned spirits attends thy mercies seat, Father's farewell, commend me to my King, Commend me to my children and my friends, And close mine eyes for death will have him endue. Nay, my lord I am of age to set it down for my self. You will allow what I do, will you not? What is the sum my lord? Fie how I fret with grief. Yet pray thee Ned, my love, my lord, and king, My fellow soldier, and compear in arms, Do so much honour to thy Elinor, To wear a suit that thee shall give thy grace, Of he on cost and workmanship perhaps. Now Elinor, now England's lovely Queen, Bethink thee of the greatness of thy state: And how to bear thy self with ro ltie, Above the other Q eenes of Christendom, That Spain reaping renown by Elinor, And Elinor adding renown to Spain, Britain may her magnificence admire, Ttell thee Joan, what time our ighnes sits, Under our royal Canopy of state, Glistering with pendants of the purest gold, Like as our seat were spangled all with stars The world shall wonder at our majesty, As if the daughter of eternal Ops, Turned to the likeness of Vermilion fumes, Where from her cloudy womb the Centaur's lap . Were in her royal seat inthronized. Indeed we count them headstrong Englishmen But we shall hold them in a Spanish yoke: And make them know their Lord and sovereign. Come daughter let us home for to provide: For all the cunning workmen of this I'll, In our great chamber shall be set a work, And in my hall shall bountifully feed. My King Like Phœbus bridegroom Like shall march With lovely Xheeis to her g assy bed, And all the lookers on shall stand amazed, To see King Edward and his lovely Queen, Fit lovely in England's stately throne. Faith Joan I think thou must be Gloucesters bride, Good Earl how near he steps unto her side, So soon this eye these younglings had espied, I'll tell thee girl when I was fair and young: I found such honey in sweet Edwards tongue, As I could never spend one idle walk, But Ned and I would piece it out with talk. So you my Lord when you have God your Joan, No matter let Queen mother be alone. Old Nell is mother now and grandmother may, The greenest grass does droop and turn to hay, Woo one kind Clarke, good Gloucester love thy Joan, Her heart is thine, her eyes is not her own. Brother Emund hers a kinsman of yours you must need, be acquainted. You hope so gentle mistress, do you indeed! But do not make it parcel of your creed. Bring forth our London Maris here. Now Nell be think thee of some tortures for the Dame: And purge thy choler to the uttermost, Now mistress Maris you have attendance vrgde, And therefore to requite your courtesy, Our mind is to bestow and office on you straight. Then mistress Maris say whither will you be our Nurse or Landeres. Oh no Nurse, the Babe needs no great rock king, it can lull it self, Katherina bind her in the chair, and let me see how sheele become a Nurse, so now Ka therein draw forth her breast and let the Serpent suck his fill, why so now she is a Nurse, suck on sweet Babe. Die or die not, my mind is fully pleased, Come Katherina to London now will we, And leave our Maris with her nursery. I rid her not, I made her not away, by heaven I swear, Traitors they are to Edward and to England's Queen that say I made away the Maris. Gape earth and swallow me, and my soul sink down to Hell if I were Author of women's Tragedy, O Joan, help Joan thy mother kes. Would let me see where am I, on C ring green, I oh green here h rd by Westminster where I was crowned and Edward there made King, I 'tis true , and therefore Edward isse not me unless you will raight perfume your psalm Edward. Welcome good woman, what place is this, sea oh and I pray show to me. I good woman conduct me to the court, that there I may bew isle my sin ull life, and call to God to save my wretched soul, wone a ̄ what noise is this I hear? That fits my turn, for I will straight with them to Kings town to the Court, and there repose me till the king come home: and therefore sweet woe man conceal what thou hast seen, and lead me to those Watermen, for here does Elinor droop. Come Gloucester, lets to the court and revel there. Kind Gloucester so me thinks in deed, It seems he loves his wife no more then needs, That sends for us in all the speedy hast, Knowing his Queen to be so great with child, And make me leave my princely pleasant seats, To come into his ruder partly of wales. No will? take that then lusty lord, Sir leave when you are bid. Nothing sweet Ned, but pray my king to feast the Lords and ladies royal j, and thanks a thousand times good men and women, to you all, for this duty and honour done to your Prince. Why Joan, is this the welcome that the clouds affords, how dare these disturb our thoughts, knowing that I am Edward's wife and England's Queen here thus on Charing green to threaten me? I pray let go, ye are disposed I think. Aye me, what sudden fits is this I prove; What grief, what pine lung pain, Like youngmen's love, That makes me madding tun thus too and from ? My lord pray let me go. Give me sweetwater, why how hot it is? What, whither I will or no? you will not leave? let be I say? Let go and be nought I say. A mantle of freeze, fie fie for Gods sake let me here no more of it and if you love me, fie my lord is this the wisdom and kindness of the country? now I commend me to them all, and if Wales have no more wit or manners, then to cloth a Kings son in freeze I have a mantle in store for my boy, that shall I trow make him shine Like the son, and presume the streets where he comes. 'Tis no marvel sure, you have been royal lie received at their hands, no Ned, but that thy Nell does want of her will, her boy should glister Like the Summers Sun in robes as rich as Jove when he tri umphes. His pap should be of precious Nectar made, His food Ambrosia no earthly woman's milk, Sweet fires of Cinnamon to open him by, The Graces on him craddle should attend, Venus should make his bed and wait on him, And Phebus daughter sing him still a sleep. Thus would I have my boy used as divine, Because he is king Edward's son and mine. And do you mean to make him up in freeze, For God sake lay it up charily, and perfume it against winter, it will make him a goodly warm Christemas coat. Then shall my words make many a bosom bleed. Reed Ned thy Queens request leapt up in rhyme, And say thy Nell had skill to choose her time. The pride of Englishmen's long hair, Is more then England's Queen can bear: Women's right breast cut them off all, And let the great tree pensh with the small. Not be denied for my request it is. The rhyme is, that men's beards and women's breasts be cut off &c. Draw near graven Father's, and approach my bed: Forbear our presence Ladies for a while, And leave us to our secret conference. Nay and you preach, I pray my lord begun, The child will cry and trouble you anon. I am sick good Katherina I pray thee Beatrice hand.