Damned practizes, that the diveliſh
Popes of Rome have uſed ever ſithence her
Highneſſe firſt comming to the Crowne, by
moving her wicked and traiterous ſubjects to
Rebellion and conſpiracies, thereby
to bereave her Majeſtie both of her lawfull
ſeate, and happy life.
With a declaration of the manner how
was entertained by her Souldyers into her
Campe Royall at Tilbery in Eſſex: and of the
overthrow had againſt the Spaniſh Fleete: briefly,
truly, and effectually ſet foorth.
Declared, and handled
Printed by Thomas Orwin, for Thomas Gubbin,
and Thomas Newman.
The Queene went out of the Campe. When Phæbus lights were in the middle part
Twixt Eaſt and Weſt faſt haſting to his home:
Our Soveraigne (our ſacred bliſfull Queene)
Was readie to depart from out her Campe.
Agaynſt whoſe comming, every Captaine was
There preſt to ſhew themſelves in readines,
To do the will of their high Generall.
There might you ſee moſt brave and gallant men,
Who lately were beclad in Mars his cloathes,
Inranked then in Court-like coſtly ſuites.
Through whom did paſſe our Queene moſt Dido-like,
(Whoſe ſtately heart doth ſo abound with love,
As thouſand thanks it yeelds unto them all)
To water-ſide to take her royall Barge.
Amidſt the way (which was the outward Ward
Of that her Campe) her Serjant Major ſtood
Among thoſe Squadrans which there then did ward.
Her eyes were ſet ſo earneſtly to view,
As him unſeene ſhe would not paſſe along,
The Queene called her Serjant Major unto her, and delivered a meſſage. But calls him to her rich-built Couches ſides,
And thanking him (as oft before ſhe had)
Did will him do this meſſage from her mouth,
Delivered with full of wiſedome words.
Which that it may not altogether be
(Through unfit word hew’d from a ſtonie wit)
Obliterated to my utter ſhame:
Ye ſacred Dames, ye ſeaven-fold Nimphes (I meane)
(Whoſe thickie groves reſound your heavenly words:
Whence every Arte had firſt their ſeverall names)
Be-bathe my temples with thoſe peerl-like droppes
Which fall amaine from that your ſilver ſtreame:
That through your ayde my wit now dulled ſore,
May quickned be with that your flowing Arte.
Then ſhall I write in theſe my lines too rude
Her royall ſpeech (though nothing like her ſpeech)
Which in effect was it that here enſues.E. We 26 Ev 26 The effect of the Queenes ſpeach.
We will them know that now by proofe we ſee
Their loyall hearts to us their lawfull Queene.
For ſure we are that none beneath the Heavens
Have readier Subjects to defend their right:
Which happines we coumpt to us as cheefe.
And though of love their dueties crave no leſſe,
Yet ſay to them that we in like regarde,
And eſtimate of this their deareſt zeale,
(If time of neede ſhall ever call them foorth
To dare in field their fearce and cruell foes)
Wilbe our ſelfe their noted Generall.
Ne deare at all to us ſhalbe our life,
Ne Pallaces or Caſtles huge of ſtone
Shall hold as then our preſence from their view:
But in the midſt and very heart of them,
Bellona-like we meane as then to march;
On common lot of gayne or loſſe to both,
They well ſhall ſee we recke ſhall then betide.
And as for honor with moſt large rewards,
Let them not care they common there ſhalbe:
The meaneſt man who ſhall deſerve a might,
A mountaine ſhall for his deſart receive.
And this our ſpeach, and this our ſolemne vowe,
In ſervent love to thoſe our Subjects deare,
Say Serjant Major, tell them from our ſelfe,
On Kingly faith we will performe it there.
Which ſayd, ſhe bow’d her princely bodie downe,
And paſſed thence unto the water-ſide:
Where once imbarg’d the roring Cannons were
Diſcharg’d, both thoſe which were on Tilb’rie hill,
And alſo thoſe which at the Block-houſe were:
And there even then the fore-white mant’led Ayre,
From whence the Sunne ſhed foorth his brighteſt beames,
Did cloathe it ſelfe with darke and duſkie hue,
And with thick Clowdes bar’d Phæbus gladſome ſtreames
From lightning then the Earth with glorious ſhew. It 27 E2r 27
It powres foorth ſhowers in great and often droppes,
Signes of the griefe for her departure thence.
And Terra now her highneſſe foot-ſtoole late,
Refuſeth quite thoſe drops deſir’d before,
To moyſten her dri’d up and parched parts,
And of her ſelfe even then ſhe yeelded foorth
Great ſtore of waters from her late-dri’d heart,
Now deeply droun’d for this the parted loſſe
Of that her ſacred and renowned Queene.
But happie Thames (thriſe happie at this time)
Turnes backe with ſpeede his lately ebbing courſe:
He calmes his billowes raging ſore before,
And makes it flow with a ſwift running ſtreame.
And Æolus to him a friendly King,
Recals his boyſterous Boreas to his den,
Sent late abroad with ſuch ſore thundring blaſts
As be the cracks which come, when angrie Jove
Throwes from his ſeate his hurtfull Thunder-boults.
Him he tyes up within an hollow cave,
With three link’d chaines with huge and ſtrong-made locks
Leaſt that he ſhould annoy her ſacred ſelfe,
Who now was carried on the river Thames.