TRUTH

Thanks Poetry, what makes thou upon a stage? Then will I add bodies to the shadows, Therefore depart and give Truth leave To show her pageant. Marry thus. Richard Plantagenet of the House of York, Claiming the Crown by wars, not by dissent, Had as the Chronicles make manifest, In the two and twentieth year of Henry the sixth, By act of Parliament intailed to him The Crown and titles to that dignity, And to his offspring lawfully begotten, After the decease of that forenamed King, Yet not contented for to stay the time, Made wars upon King Henry then the sixth, And by outrage suppressed that virtuous King, And won the Crown of England to himself, But since at Wakefield in a battle pitched, Outrageous Richard breathed his latest breath, Leaving behind three branches of that line, Three sons: the first was Edward now the King, George of Clarence, and Richard Gloucesters Duke, Then Henry claiming after his decease His style, his Crown and former dignity Was quite suppressed, till this Edward the fourth. No, but Tragedia Like for to present A Tragedy in England done but late, That will revive the hearts of drooping minds. Imprisoned he, in the Tower of London lies, By strict command, from Edward England's King, Since cruelly murdered, by Richard Gloucesters Duke. It was the ghost of George the duke of Clare ̄ ce, Who was attected in King Edwards reign, Falsely of Treason to his royalty, Imprisoned in the Tower was most unnaturally, By his own brother, shame to parents stock, By Gloucesters Duke drowned in a but of wine. A shield containing this, in full effect, Blood sprinkled, springs: blood spilled, craves endue revenge: Whereupon he writes, Cress cruor, Sanguis satietur, sanguine cress, Quod spero scitio: Oh scitio scitio, vendicta. A man ill shaped, crooked backed, lame armed, withal, Valiantly minded, but tyrannous in authority, So during the minority of the young Prince, He is made Lord Protector over the Realm. Gentiles suppose that Edward now hath reigned Full two and twenty years, and now Like to die, Hath summoned all his Nobles to the Court, To swear allegiance with the Duke his brother, For truth unto his son the tender Prince, Whose father's soul is now near flight to God, Leaving behind two sons of tender age, Five daughters to comfort the hapless Queen, All under the protection of the Duke of Gloucester: Thus gentles, excuse the length by the matter, And here begins Truths Pageant, Poetry Weened with me.