The worthy History of the most Noble and valiant Knight Plasidas, otherwise called Eustas, who was martyred for the Profession of Jesus Christ.  
Gathered in English verse by john Partridge, in the year of our Lord. 1566.  
IMPRINTED at London, by henry Denham, for Thomas Hacket: and are to be sold at his Shop in Lumbarde street.   

To the worshipful Arthur Dwabene, Merchant venturer, his servant and daily orator John Partridge wisheth increase of worship, by his worthy travail.  
WHat time, right Worshipful, the most excellent Philosopher of the world, Democritus was demanded of a friend, what was the chiefest best amongst men in all the world, verily (quoth he) a patient man in misery. The other replying, and demanding the cause of that his assertion, he answered and said: either he is not in misery at all, or else armed most strongly and surely against all adversities what so ever they be, that shall happen unto him. By patience, saith he, of a thousand evils he is not at all any whit molested. Anaxagoras the Philosopher, borne of a noble stock, and son to Eubullus, who in Philosophy did exceed, sayeth that he himself could find nothing more excellent in war, than this one thing, that is, a Soldier to be hardy, and also chiefly above all other things, the same to be like wise trusty and patient to endure travail, pain, and other kind of miseries that shall happen or befall unto him in that conflict of war in which he then is conversant. Alexander I mean the great, having made war against the Persians and of them had made great slaughter, the king of Persia being of a noble courage bold, stout, patient and hardy, having taken a castle or hold for his defence, & being in time brought in subjection to the Macedonians, was demanded of Alexander in what point he saw himself not to be overcome, to whom the King of Persia answered on this wise: Sir king, in no point at all am I overcome. Alexander hearing him say so, demanded if he had not lost both friends, countries, castles, towns, & all things else, yes verily (quoth he) & yet am I not overcome: for though they all be gone, yet can I with patience bear the loss of the same. Oh great was the patience of this King, yet verily nothing in comparison of his, whom I have taken to write upon. Therefore I deeming nothing more fit for a good nature than to set forth so notable a fact of patience, as this was, have at the request of a special friend of mine, drawn the same though rudely yet hoping not without some profit, either of myself, or of some other. And because that to every castle, town, city, work or workmanship, there belongeth defence: and knowing that defence can not be made without some one defender, I am so bold (considering mine own weakness) to dedicate this my simple work unto your worship, that your wisdom may be the defence thereof against the rancorous Zoilictes, which at all times from the beginning have been ready to breath the filth of their cankered stomachs upon those most famous works of the excellentest clerk that ever were, whose books I am not worthy to bear, knowing likewise that if those went not free, mine can not. Therefore I hoping of your worship's defence, am boldened the more in prosecuting of the same. Thus trusting to your goodness, I end, desiring God to maintain your estate, and send you long life and good health, to his pleasure and your hearts desire.  
Your humble servant, john Partridge.   

To the Reader.  

LEt patience increase by kind,  
within thy doleful breast:  
Let that sweet dame within thy bower,  
have her abiding nest.  
Consider, view and understand,  
what liquor doth descend:  
Out of her wells, from perils great,  
the same will thee defend.  
The stinking band of fowl despair,  
thy state shall not molest:  
Ne slaughter in thy gates shall not,  
to strike be ready priest.  
For Socrates doth plain declare,  
no other good to be:  
Than wrapped in woes and pinching cares,  
a patient one to see.  
Then saints have showed what patience is,  
how precious in God's sight:  
In stories we may read and find,  
how much they did delight,  
For to be found in miseries,  
in patience to dwell:  
Whereof to us this story doth  
most plainly show and tell.  
What patience had job I find,  
such patience is rare:  
A thousand Martyrs I with him,  
may very well compare.  
What was the patience of those,  
whom flashing fiery flames:  
Bereft of life, yet could it not,  
at all extinct their fames.  
For fame for good desert doth rest,  
behind though they be gone:  
Because we might pursue the like,  
and oft think thereupon.  
Therefore let us pursue the same,  
and then we shall be sure:  
For to possess that glorious crown,  
that lasts and sh●ll endure,  
After that earth, yea birds and beasts,  
shall be consumed to nought:  
Which crown to us O Lord do grant,  
that with thy blood us bought.    

The verdict of the Book.  

Learn here thou shalt one God most his  
To rule the heavens the earth and all:  
The Sun, the Moon, the starry Sky,  
Subject to be unto his call.  
Of patience likewise read thou shalt,  
Which is a gift of all most pure:  
Above the rest I thee ensure.   

God's providence here thou shalt know,  
His great good will I do declare:  
His mighty force I plain do show,  
Read on therefore and do not spare.  
Though that my skill be very bare,  
Yet fruit hereby well take you may:  
If it to read you will essay.   

In whom to put thy trust be bold,  
In whom to joy here thou mayst see:  
A treasure passing any gold,  
Or precious stones what that they be.  
The same I do declare to thee,  
To read me therefore take some pain:  
And that I count my author's gain.  
Farewell my friends for for your sakes,  
My author hath abroad me sent:  
I pass not for all crabbed cracks,  
That Zoilus to make is bend.  
For all for you my author meant,  
When that in hand his pen he took:  
And out this story first did look.   
Patienter ferenda quae mutari non possunt   

The noble History of Plasidas.  

Sometime in Roman land there was,  
a king of noble fame:  
Who was full fair in martial feats,  
and Trayan had to name.  
Who under him of lusty Knights,  
did keep a comely train:  
And over them he pointed hath,  
one knight as captain.  
This knight to name had Plasidas,  
one whom the king did love:  
For martial feats that in this knight,  
did shine the rest above.  
A wife he had of glistering hue,  
of shape both fair and trun:  
Of loving mind, of gladsome heart,  
and trusty unto him.  
By her he had two children fair,  
surmounting Phoebus' bright:  
Who for their manly courage stone,  
compare with him they might.  
The proverb old is verified,  
upon these babies twain:  
By splendent courage they assay,  
their honours to maintain.  
The father he before doth strive,  
to run a happy race:  
The manly children parent like,  
do follow on apace.  
And seeks for to obtain the crown,  
of honour and of praise:  
Which to atchicue the noble hearts,  
endeavour still always.  
They spend their time with joy and bless  
their labour they employ:  
According to their parent's minds,  
their hope and perfect joy.  
Such books these babes did learn to read  
as present time did give:  
Which might their tender years trade by  
in Mametrie to live.  
Thus they in whom all tenderness,  
of age did still remain:  
Were taught the labour tedious,  
of study to stustaine.  
The parents eke employ their days,  
good learning to attain:  
And now and then they find pastime,  
their griefs for to restrain.  
Sometime on hunting he doth ride;  
sometime to Chess they go:  
Sometime great doubts they do decide,  
that in the Realm might grow.  
This was the use of Plasidas,  
his mind to recreate:  
This used eke his children dear,  
O blessed happy fate.  
The stormy winter days hath left,  
with misty clouds to swell:  
And Phoebus' bright appointed is,  
more nearer us to dwell.  
And Aeolus no pleasure takes,  
to dim the air with clouds:  
And Phoebus now is quite deudide,  
of fogs his beams that shrouds.  
Then doth Aurora leave the bed  
of Titan, and doth bring:  
Some joys to men, the wished day  
beholding once to spring.  
And trees and herbs with joyful heart,  
do show their pleasant hue:  
And Knights in Forests bend their force  
the Buck for to subdue.  
Then Plasidas with comely train,  
of knights of royal kind:  
Do enter now the green forests,  
a Buck forth for to find.  
At length he came where bucks great store,  
did stand confusedly:  
And each man now doth bend himself,  
his lusty Stead to try.  
Now here and there the harmless Buck,  
assayeth for to run:  
And Plasidas at one fair Buck,  
to ride he hath begun.  
The other knights amongst the Bucks,  
in fields abroad do range:  
But Plasidas followeth hard,  
this Buck and will not change.  
At length in thickst of woods I say,  
the Buck doth enter in:  
And then more fiercely her to sew,  
this knight doth strait begin.  
Till at the last the Buck had took,  
a Mountain huge and high:  
And there the huge and lofty Buck,  
Plasidas did descry.  
But as he was addicted sore,  
the Buck with force to take:  
The mighty God in Skies above,  
his servant did him make.  
And out from clouds he called to him,  
his Idols to detest:  
Which by and by fell in a swoon,  
and so he left the beast.  
Then there he laid his sprangling corpse,  
almost devoid of breath:  
I am thy God then said the Lord,  
which bought thee with my death.  
My very blood doth justify,  
in me thou hast thy life:  
Go wend in haste the Lord can say,  
convert thy Heathen wife.  
Thy children eke let them be taught,  
one God to honour pure:  
Then thou my kingdom shalt possess,  
hereof thou mayst be sure.  
Where thou shalt live eternally,  
if thou this life detest:  
And shalt if thou fight manfully,  
for aye with me be blessed.  
Arise therefore go wend in haste,  
this life is but as grass:  
To day full fair (her glistering hue,)  
to morrow quite is past.  
Those stocks & stones the which thou dost  
as cods adorn with praise:  
Are in my sight Idolatrous,  
therefore eschew those ways.  
Arise I say and get thee hence,  
make hast thee to baptize:  
And see thou do convert thy wife,  
I say in any wise.  
Apalled sore with fear and dread,  
the Knight strait ways did say:  
Have mercy Lord, and me forgive,  
I heartily do thee pray.  
Stand up thou knight than said the Lord,  
thy sins remitted be:  
Do thou not fear for Satan will,  
thee plague with misery.  
Then down he sat with stretched hands  
to God he gave the praise:  
And said, to thee that sits on high,  
be honour due always.  
That hast vouchsafe this day to call,  
thy servant gone astray:  
Even as a sheep by fortune strayed,  
out of the herd away.  
I do confess thou only art,  
my comfort and my trust:  
And eke my God, and thy promise,  
thou keepest true and lust.  
No part thereof thou violatest,  
thou art both God and man:  
These stocks, these stones be devils yil,  
do us no good they can.  
Thee therefore I do worship still,  
thou madest the world of nought:  
And I the Image of thy grace,  
that thou of earth hast wrought.  
I do confess my heavenly king,  
that no good is in me:  
But that the goodness which I have,  
doth all descend from thee.  
Without thy grace and goodness, I  
no day at all can say:  
But that I should be overthrown,  
and brought to deaths decay.  
But thou O God art my defence,  
my aid, my hope, and trust:  
Thou art my king, my God, my Lord,  
my saviour true and just.  
O Lord I know that Satan will,  
with cares my soul molest:  
But thou O Lord in patience,  
defend my careful breast.  
Let me with patience still abide,  
thy gracious leisure good:  
And grant also to me full hope,  
in thy most precious blood.  
That what so ever ills do hap,  
unto thy servant here:  
With willing mind the burden huge,  
with patience I may bear.  
Grant also that despair do not,  
molest my quiet state:  
Ne that I should in any wise,  
incur thy heavy hate.  
But give me Lord a mind always,  
obedient for to be:  
Unto thy hest, and to submit  
my will always to thee.  
So shall I be a most fit branch,  
engraffed in the tree:  
Of living days, and at the last,  
shall ever reign with thee.  
To whom be praise eternally,  
both now and ever more:  
One only God though persons three,  
as I have said before.  
Then at the last this noble knight,  
from Forest made return:  
And thought within his hunting race,  
no longer to sojourn.  
But home he comes in posting wise,  
The knights they after high:  
And some the chase will follow on,  
the end thereof to try.  
The mighty Bucks lie dead on land.  
the palfreys they do sweat:  
And from their frothy mouths they breathe  
the inward parching heat.  
Now here now there with lance in hand,  
the marshal knights do run:  
And at the last they have espied,  
how Plasidas did come.  
From out the groves so green which was  
beset with many a tree:  
With heavy cheer much like unto,  
a man in misery.  
When they perceived well that he,  
with sorrow was infect:  
They mused much, yet of that hapte,  
they nothing did suspect.  
Then home they go and some do lad,  
the pray that they have slain:  
And other some for their repasts,  
in Forcestes do remain.  
At length Plasidas doth arrive,  
before his Castle gate:  
His wife to welcome home her Love,  
is ready soon thereat.  
From gate to Hall they do ascend,  
and there the boards be spread:  
The sun is down, and time it is,  
for men to go to bed.  
The chamberlains the bed down lay,  
and fire in chamber make:  
And now Plasidas he is come,  
his corporal rest to take.  
When he in bed had lain a while,  
great griefs he did sustain:  
And see at length his mind to break,  
he purposeth certain.  
At length his wife perceyning that,  
no rest her Mate could find:  
She did procure him for to show,  
what dread was in his mind.  
At length he said, oh loving mate,  
the cause sith thou wouldst know:  
Of these my cares so huge and fell,  
to thee them I will show.  
This day (quoth he) as I abroad  
in Forest thick did run:  
A mighty Burke his race to take,  
before me hath begun.  
At whom I sued with all my might,  
and force that I could make:  
At length the Buck for his defence,  
the densid woods doth take.  
And there the Buck I do pursue,  
on lofty steed amain:  
Till that the top of one great hill,  
he seeketh to attain.  
And there from out the skies did break,  
a voice like thunders cry:  
For fear whereof almost my breath,  
to Skies away did fly.  
Quoth he I am thy very God,  
ne made but being still:  
Both heaven and earth, yea Skies and all  
obeys unto my will.  
I made them all, and thee O man,  
as Lord of earth to be:  
The fish, the fowls, the birds, the beast,  
shall all obey to thee.  
And for the love which I thee bare,  
my Image I thee made:  
A living soul the life whereof,  
away shall never fade.  
Thus art thou now my Image pure,  
and I thy Lord and king:  
Thou art the sheep whom I do love,  
above all earthly thing.  
By this my love I did declare,  
when thou wast utterly:  
Condemned for thy wickedness,  
eternally to die.  
I loved thee so that I did take,  
a servants shape on me:  
For to be slain even as a sheep,  
at Sacrifice we see.  
And thou unkind forgetting quite,  
what I for thee have done:  
Hast made thee Gods, and of vile earth,  
a God is now become.  
Yet I because I tender thee,  
And rue thy heavy fall:  
Vouchsafe again thee to the fold,  
once more from sin to call.  
Repent therefore and learn to know,  
thy God, thy Lord, and King:  
So shalt thou with him eterne live,  
where Angels holy sing.  
Forsake thy Idols and become,  
a Christian now at last:  
And I'll remit and quite forgive,  
thy wickedness forepast.  
Arise therefore go wend in haste,  
make speed for to convert:  
Thy gentle wife, that honour she,  
may me with all her heart.  
O Lord (quoth I) if Satan do,  
with care my corpse molest:  
Be thou my aid, let patience still,  
abide within my breast.  
Do thou defend our sinful corpse,  
O Lord we thee desire:  
That by thy death unto the crown  
of life we may asspire.  
Then said the Lord with troubles great,  
Satan shall thee annoy:  
By fraud in friendship such as erst,  
with thee were wont to toy.  
And speak thee fair, with cap and knee,  
at every word do make:  
Now in thy fall and misery,  
their flattering leaves shall take.  
And not content with railing voice,  
reproachful words to say:  
But eke are bend to spoil thy Tent,  
thy goods to bear away.  
Which thou shalt by my grace divine,  
with patience bear thy loss:  
And at the length when I see tune,  
I'll take away this cross.  
And will again in former state,  
thee place with joy and bless:  
With double fold, and shalt again  
possess thy lost richesse.  
Then down I fell in swooning there,  
and loud and shirle I cried:  
Oh Lord thy servant will I be,  
hap me what will betide.  
These were the words when sacred tops,  
of mountains great and tall:  
He left, O Plasidas go home,  
thy wife see that thou call.  
Then said his wife, my loving Lord,  
O Plasidas so true:  
He is the God of heaven and earth,  
that did appear to you.  
For yesternight as I did lie,  
in bed with heavy mind:  
Me thought before me one most fair,  
in chamber I did find.  
Appalled sore twixt fear and dread,  
at length to me he spoke:  
And said, O Theapis from sleep,  
and brousinesse awake.  
To morrow shall thy husband dear,  
what I am well perceive:  
I am thy Christ and went his way,  
and thus he took his leave.  
This for to show my loving Lord,  
I durst no whit to thee:  
Lest happily thou mightst have thought,  
in me some injury.  
But now I know and well perceive,  
that that was Christ in deed:  
He is of God coequal mate,  
and eke of David's seed.  
To him therefore with thanks giving,  
on Flutes and Pipes full shrill:  
Our Sacrifices unto him,  
on Altars will we kill.  
This is the Prophet which to us,  
full long was prophesied:  
This is the very son of him,  
who Stars in Skies doth guide.  
Therefore my Lord if that thee please,  
of baptism let us take:  
The sacrament, and then let us,  
our Country soil forsake.  
Then said the knight, fair dame at hand,  
doth rest a clerk of fame:  
A Minister of sacred rights,  
who Buno hath to name.  
A comely man, of faith most pure,  
to him strait we will wend:  
For rights of Baptism to receive,  
I verily do pretend.  
Our children eke he baptize shall,  
according unto right:  
And thus to him they went in haste,  
in midst of the night.  
And when they baptism had received,  
as now the manner is:  
Plasidas, Eustas had to name,  
his wise is Theapis.  
His children eke whom nature made,  
of beauty passing fair:  
Were tender ones, th'one Agapite,  
Theospite was the heir.  
Thus baptism done unto their house,  
again they do repair:  
And there in peace a while they live,  
both honestly and fair.  
At length the sturdy boisterous blasts,  
of Satan gins to roar:  
Even as the water from a hill,  
or as a mighty Boar.  
Which of some wight received hath,  
a wound both huge and great:  
Or as the flashing waves of floods,  
that craggy rocks doth beat.  
With hurling here and there her streams,  
endeavouring for to wear:  
The ragged banks which of their floods,  
the crabbyd rage doth bear.  
Much like unto a battle made,  
a City for to get:  
And munition with burning strokes,  
to sack the walls is set.  
And breach is made, and houses burn,  
and soldiers now begin:  
For joy of spoil, by vital breath  
not for to set a pin.  
Or else when as a Lion great,  
doth range with angry mood:  
With hungry chaws amid the woods,  
doth seek to have his food.  
And he that first within his sight,  
appears that he may see:  
With gasping mouth on him he runs,  
devoured for to be.  
So Satan now in roaring wise,  
on Plasidas doth run:  
His sheep and cattle for to slay,  
already hath begun.  
Then Plasidas to poverty,  
is brought the ready way:  
And eke when that his feigned friends,  
perceived his decay,  
They run his house to spoil and sack,  
his goods they bear away:  
Even those whom he had feasted erst,  
before his great decay.  
These pampered churls that sit all day,  
at tables dainty fed:  
Who by all mischievous crabbed guiles,  
with stinking heart is led.  
Whom neither love ne hate can drive,  
from out the Castle door:  
They learned have so for to row,  
with the Athenien oar.  
I may such persons well compare,  
unto a pipe or ton:  
That hath good wine to outward sight,  
in which there is poison.  
For they themselves so beautify,  
their words in inward show:  
But poison much is hid therein,  
as afterwards we know.  
Thus Plasidas from great renown,  
to poverty is brought:  
And where he was a royal Knight,  
now is he worse than nought.  
Thus then when shame had overtook,  
this worthy knight, then lo:  
In midst of all the darksome night,  
from house and friends they go.  
To water side, and there do wait,  
when lofty ship shall glide:  
On foaming seas, the wind is good,  
for them on seas to ride.  
They do inquire if any ship,  
to country far will wend:  
To whom the Master answer made,  
that strait they did intend,  
To hoist their sails and to depart,  
to Egypt in all haste:  
Agreed they are, they hoist their sails,  
to sail away at last.  
The land they leave, into the deep,  
they lance with wind at will:  
The mighty ship the hollow waves,  
at every surge doth fill.  
The night is gone and day is come,  
wherein each thing doth joy:  
And here the lusty fish begin,  
at painted pupe to toy.  
With fetching frischoes here and there,  
with spready fin in sea:  
And seemeth who fastest should swim,  
some wager for to lay.  
They sailed have and now at length,  
near Egypt they arrive:  
The Master of the ship doth like,  
the beauty of the wife,  
Of Plasidas, and doth delight,  
his wavering wanton mind:  
With rolling in his dive lish brain,  
the beauty of her kind.  
She pleased hath his lothfull eyes,  
with beauties shining beams:  
From whence sometime did issue out,  
of tears abundant streams.  
Then at the last when unto land,  
they drew, and plain did see:  
The touret tops, and knew full well,  
how far from land they be.  
The Master of the ship did say,  
you passangers we see:  
That near to land our ship is come,  
therefore now ready be.  
For that you have your fraught to pay,  
as due it is by right:  
Come on sir boy, lance out this boat,  
the town is here in sight.  
The anchor then through flashing flood,  
a way doth may doth make for hold:  
And there to ride from dangers great,  
the Master is full bold.  
The Master and the Mariners guide,  
the cock boat unto land:  
Then he his freight for to receive,  
he stretcheth forth his hand.  
Yet nought at all from Plasidas,  
might hap in any ways:  
For all was gone, and nought was left,  
before he took the seas.  
Why Plasidas the Master said,  
thy wife I'll have away:  
If that thou wilt not out of hand,  
my duty to me pay.  
Then out of hand he took his wife,  
Plasidas being on shore:  
And said, the friend thou shouldst have sought  
thy freight to pay before.  
Therefore I say thy wife with me,  
away from hence shall wend:  
With whom Plasidas all in vain,  
did labour and contend,  
To keep her still, the Master strait,  
his Mariners bad to bring:  
Plasidas lo in midst of seas,  
by furious force to fling.  
So that his wife the Master he,  
at will might then possess:  
His wilfulness brought him his death,  
in th'end as I do guess,  
Well Plasidas must needs depart,  
whether he will or nay:  
For money none at all he had,  
as then, the freight to pay.  
But from the shores of surging seas,  
with heavy mind doth wend:  
And for to live in Egypt land,  
he verily doth intend.  
With his two babes of tender years,  
so fair in nature's grace:  
The one on father's arms hanging,  
doth follow on a pace,  
The other he doth run afore,  
with every grass to play:  
His father merry for to make,  
all means he doth assay.  
At length where flashing streams of floods,  
the shores doth clean divide:  
They are arrived, and there they stand,  
the manner to decide,  
How for to pass those troublesome waves  
for needs that way he must:  
Unto the town, O Fortune thou  
to good men never just,  
Who erst a fit in chair of state,  
was wont in peace to sit:  
Is now in floods of misery,  
and thou not leaving it,  
Dost add more care unto his pain,  
thy fashion it is so:  
Because thou wouldst that all men should  
take thee for friend nor foe.  
What mourning makes the wight good lord  
whom wife is borne fro:  
And taking up his youngest son,  
from doleful shores doth go.  
To tother side where woods and trees,  
on fertile ground doth stand:  
He is arrived, and there doth set,  
his tender child on land.  
And entering now the rushing waves,  
that sounds with noise so shrill:  
He doth approach the hollow waves,  
in midst thereof to fill.  
When he in midst was thereof,  
there came a Wolf and took:  
The tender child who late before,  
was borne over the brook,  
And bore away, but God who made,  
the heaven, the earth and all:  
Did so provide that once no hurt,  
unto it should befall.  
He seeing then his child was gone,  
with doleful mind he cried:  
Oh wicked wretch and miser vile,  
what shall of me betide?  
And coming now to the other side,  
his eldest son to catch:  
A Lion huge from wood doth come,  
and tother up doth snatch.  
Which strait doth trudge from thence away,  
unto the wood again:  
A heavy sight for Plasidas,  
in this his doleful pain.  
But Plasidas poor soul doth strive,  
his child to get again:  
But he poor wretch of very truth,  
laboureth all in vain.  
When that he saw no help there was,  
good Lord he doth lament:  
But mighty God the child to save,  
hath rescue ready sent.  
The country men that were as then,  
a ploughing in the field:  
The heard men eke that sheep did keep,  
did stand and all beheld.  
Where as a Lion huge did run,  
and eke with him did bear:  
A manly child, and looked as though,  
in pieces he would tear.  
Then out they sent their hungry dogs,  
the Lion to overtake.  
And so at length the Lion he,  
the child did quite forsake.  
The Wolf likewise to bear the child,  
already hath begun:  
Through midst of the plough men there,  
and they at him do run  
With bats and staves, the pray he left,  
and there the child they found:  
A comely wight, no hurt he had,  
But was both whole and sound.  
The plough men and the heard men both,  
are joyous of this thing:  
That chanced hath, and to the town,  
the children both they bring.  
There they declare how that they took,  
these tender babes of age:  
From beasts full fierce, & how they brought  
them home to their village.  
These men they were both of one town,  
and set the babes to school:  
To learn such things as after they,  
thereby their life might rule.  
Now leave we here a while and stay,  
and let us further hear:  
Of Plasidas how he doth range,  
in doleful heavy cheer.  
He passed is the watery streams,  
of that unhappy shore:  
With sobs and tears his cares & smart,  
increaseth more and more.  
And then at last upon the ground,  
prostrate on face he lies:  
Have mercy Lord on me vile wretch,  
continually he cries.  
Thou god that madest both heaven & earth,  
the sea and eke each thing:  
Which all the winds from out their caves,  
and hollow rocks dost bring.  
That madest the world and eke each beast,  
that liveth now therein:  
Who makest poor, and eke dost cause,  
of poor to rise a King.  
Who made the Sea, the fish, the foul,  
that flies under the Skies:  
Who rules the very jaws of beasts,  
in whom all force now lies.  
Who placed first the heavenly throne,  
of thy Gothead divine:  
Who eke hath made within the world,  
both hours, days and time.  
Thou that didst make the firmament,  
with Stars shining so bright:  
Thou that for day didst make the Sun,  
men's steps to guide aright.  
Thou that hast made the planets seven,  
in spheres to run their race:  
Thou that next to the crooked Moon,  
the burning flame dost place.  
And next to it a vacant place,  
where air doth all abound:  
The water eke which compass doth,  
the heavy massive ground.  
That hast to man such power given,  
thy noble works to know:  
And yet on him of thy good grace,  
dost daily more bestow.  
Grant unto me thy servant here,  
one spark of thy good grace:  
That in this land I may now find,  
some joyful resting place.  
Even I that wretch who is devoid,  
of wife and children twain:  
Give patience Lord, to me poor wretch,  
though languished in pain.  
Have mercy on my children dear,  
where so their corpse shall lie:  
Have mercy on their parent eke,  
who lives in misery.  
This said, unto the town he goeth,  
and ceaseth not to weep:  
For children twain, at last he cometh,  
in midst of the street.  
And there the men of that same town,  
do Plasidas desire:  
To keep their sheep, and so he should,  
of them receive his hire.  
Agreed they are, and Plasidas,  
his sheep full well doth know:  
And now forthwith unto the fields,  
his sheep and he do go.  
Now leave we hear of Plasidas,  
in shepherds weed for gain:  
Sometime he was a noble Lord,  
but now more poor certain.  
But now we forth will show the mean,  
how God did all provide:  
For mother and the children eke,  
as it may well be spied  
In end, for lo, the fatal wretch,  
hath his reward with gain:  
His great desire was once the cause,  
why that his corpse was slain.  
For when on lofty roaring waves,  
he was with wind at will:  
He then in haste would straight assay,  
his lust for to fulfil.  
But as he would by force of arms,  
have wrought the déedely act:  
The mighty God with death repaid,  
this his purposed fact.  
And there in ship all dead he lies,  
whose lust did cause his woe:  
The mariners lament this case,  
and eke to land they go.  
With her, on shore to set, and eke  
more victuals for to buy:  
When wind is fair to country soil,  
again that they may high.  
And much they praise her constancy,  
her beauty and her grace:  
Her faithfulness unto her Love,  
in this her heavy case.  
The Lord they praise and honour him,  
with all their might they have:  
That so of his benignity,  
his blessed flock can save.  
Then when to shore their boat was come,  
she there her leave doth take:  
And willingly not with them any  
longer sojourn to make.  
Doth wend unto a town thereby,  
intending there to live:  
Until that God shall see his time,  
her from her cares to move.  
Thus fifteen years all desolate,  
she lives in widows ray:  
Her honest life not one there is,  
in all that town that may  
Distain. And lo it so befell,  
since Plasidas was gone:  
That enemies the Roman land,  
do vex and war upon.  
At whom the King envying sore,  
doth war on them begin:  
But all in vain his travel was,  
he lost, and nought could win.  
Then of his Knight good Plasidas  
to think he doth begin:  
And wishing always that he were,  
in Roman land with him.  
At length the King doth send abroad,  
through many a place and town:  
His lusty Knights in haste to seek,  
Plasidas of renown.  
And bring him home to Roman land.  
where erst he was the Knight:  
That did most harm unto his fees,  
by mortal dint of fight.  
And who that finds the same in end,  
the king would honour give:  
With riches eke in honour great,  
all days of life to live.  
Within the army of the King,  
two Knights there were certain:  
Who ever under Plasidas,  
in wars did much remain.  
They into Egypt land do go,  
some news for to hear tell:  
Of Plasidas, and lo they chance,  
in street where he doth dwell.  
And Plasidas from field doth come,  
as they were entered in:  
Then to inquire of Plasidas,  
the Knights do now begin.  
If that he knew not one, within  
that town that had to name:  
Plasidas, who of chivalry,  
did bear away the fame.  
He answered them, and said forsooth,  
no such man I do know:  
But yet he doth the knights desire,  
unto his house to go.  
And take such things as he poor soul,  
unto them then might give:  
Which might their weary fainting limbs,  
from weariness relieve.  
With whom they went with all their hearts  
and their repasts did take:  
With such small cheer as he good man,  
at that time could them make.  
But when he did revolve in mind,  
the state that he was in:  
Sometime with them, good Lord therefore,  
to weep he doth begin.  
Then went he out from chamber where,  
the Knights did then remain:  
To wash his face, and afterwards,  
return to them again.  
But whilst he was from them a time,  
they thought that it was he:  
Whom they appointed were to seek,  
and so agreed they be,  
At his return for to demand,  
some licence and some leave:  
To see a wound which sometime he,  
in battle did receive.  
At length he comes, and they to him,  
with gentle words do speak:  
Good sir said they, much like thou art,  
to him whom we do seek.  
Therefore of thee we do desire,  
this one thing for to look  
Upon thy head, for such a wound,  
that he in battle took.  
They then beheld the wound, and knew,  
full well that it was he:  
No tongue can then express their joy,  
fulfilled so they be.  
With stretched arms they him embrace,  
desiring him to tell:  
Where that his children are become,  
and where his wife doth dwell.  
Then answered he and said his sons,  
were refte of vital breath:  
And as he thought, his wife likewise,  
tasted of cruel death.  
And how the Master had his wife,  
unto the Knights he told:  
And how by force of arms from him,  
his wife he did with hold.  
This done, in haste throughout the land,  
report doth blow this thing:  
The neighbours than do haste unto,  
Plasidas poor lodging.  
With marveling, much like unto  
a swarm of bees they go:  
About the house and there the knights,  
their message forth do show.  
And then they ray sir Plasidas,  
with vestments of price:  
Then from their seats to walk a while,  
the lusty Knights arise.  
In haste they leave that joyful soil,  
and homeward do they wend:  
They are arrived in Roman land,  
ere fifteen days were end.  
The Emperor then when that he heard,  
that Eustas was at hand:  
Doth joy that God hath sent this Knight,  
again unto his land.  
Now Trayan he doth ride in haste,  
Plasidas for to meet:  
And joyful Trayan Plasidas,  
his loving friend doth greet,  
Then Trayan with Plasidas,  
unto his court doth go:  
With great frequent of people that,  
behind them did follow.  
When he came there, of all his haps,  
he doth declare and tell:  
Of all the woes and miseries,  
that unto him befell.  
Now his wife was taken him fro,  
how children both were slain:  
And how himself now fifteen years,  
did live in doleful pain.  
From thence they go to banqueting,  
to revels and to play:  
In dancing and in minstrelsy,  
they spend that lucky day.  
And Plasidas is made I say,  
Lieutenant of the band:  
And all the ordering of the wars,  
is put into his hand.  
He then before him calls the Knights,  
and doth their number take:  
Intending up an army great,  
in haste forthwith to make.  
And doth command that straight,  
each town to him should send:  
Two lusty men with Plasidas,  
unto the wars to wend.  
It happened so that that same town,  
two soldiers forth must make:  
Which from the Lion and the Wolf,  
those tender babes did take.  
At length the towns men do agree,  
that both these children should:  
Go with the Knight with willing minds  
and hearts, even so they would.  
The country men these soldiers twain,  
did bring unto the Knight:  
Their manners and their comely shape,  
did much his mind delight.  
Wherefore with first at table he,  
hath placed the same to be:  
Because in them such nobleness,  
of manners he did see.  
The day is come, to battle they,  
must wend even out of hand:  
And now they must the great assault,  
of cruel foes withstand.  
The battles great on either part,  
the flames do reach the Sky:  
The roaring sound of Canons shot,  
the force of walls doth try.  
The Knights with lance in hand I say,  
do pierce throughout the throng:  
The soldier doth assay to lay,  
his enemy all along.  
The battle stands in doubt of truth,  
which side shall other beat:  
Here march they on amain and there,  
they blow again retreat.  
Here all along on ground they lie,  
and here from tourets high:  
The deadly shaft through misley clouds,  
aloft in Skies do fly.  
And here in flesh it lights full deep,  
and gives a deadly wound:  
And in an other part there is,  
a thousand brought to ground.  
Here fighteth Plasidas full hard,  
in midst of all the throng:  
And here the children parent like,  
slay enemies along.  
They forward do retire in haste,  
and men afore do lack:  
And Plasidas assails his foes,  
behind upon their back.  
The wings that were the aid and help,  
of foot men, go their way:  
The battles lost, all through defacde,  
of keeping their array.  
The wings are fled, and battle must  
by footmen stand a while:  
The battles great, but at the length,  
they are brought to exile.  
The enemies fly from field amain,  
and Romans follow still:  
Upon the chase, for they did mind,  
their cruel foes to kill.  
Retreat is blown, and home again,  
to camp the soldiers hie:  
That willing were, either their foes,  
or they in chase to die.  
The town is made full strong and sure,  
with rampires for shot:  
And eke each side of all the town,  
with munition is hot.  
The scaling lathers down to throw,  
they have their iron staves:  
They have their hatchets for to cut,  
in sunder all their raves.  
Some stand with stings from far to strike,  
the Roman armies great:  
Some stand with bills those that assault,  
with furious force to beat:  
The pike men they on walls do stand,  
their town for to defend:  
And some from tower with bow in hand,  
the graygoose wing do send.  
The labourers do mend the walls,  
with gun-shot all to shake:  
The towns men all within the town,  
do seek defence to make.  
And sluises all are opened,  
to stop the enemies way:  
Lest that to scale their walls by night,  
the enemy do assay.  
The night is come, and it doth part  
the armies for that time:  
The watch man he aloft in tower,  
beginneth for to climb.  
The ward at gate is kept all night,  
the soldiers stand in ray:  
That when the onset shall be given,  
resist their foes they may.  
The night is gone, and break of day,  
beginneth to draw nigh:  
By which the watch man in the tower,  
the army may diserie.  
And see from far how Plasidas,  
doth order all his band:  
How that he telleth them the way,  
their foes for to withstand.  
He doth declare, as he can deem,  
what number that they be:  
And doth espy if any troop,  
of horse men he may see.  
That doth approach unto the town,  
for to increase their fear:  
Plasidas sent horse men forth,  
to range both here and there.  
To see if that they enter would,  
from town, and would descend:  
In open field by force of arms,  
their city to defend.  
But they within did keep themselves,  
in order for to fight:  
Then had the day quite drone away,  
the loathsome mists of night.  
And Plasidas his comely train,  
unto the walls doth bring:  
The which the watch man well perceived,  
and all arm out doth ring.  
To walls they go both tag and rag,  
their City to defend:  
And every man his business,  
doth duly now intend.  
The pushing pikes stand next the walls,  
their enemies down to fling:  
The stelly boys the heavy earth,  
on shoulders thither bring.  
The sun from depth of Ocean sea,  
did scarce himself areare:  
When as the Roman army did,  
before the town appear.  
And then the gonnes the way do make,  
through walls of stone and brick:  
And eke the flames of fires do,  
the tops of houses lick.  
The Romans, they bring to the walls,  
their scaling lathers high:  
With iron hooks, unto the tops  
of houses for to tie.  
Now all the walls of Romans stout,  
is filled to the end:  
And more and more continually,  
upon the walls ascend.  
The town is won, and Plasidas  
in midst thereof is set:  
And all their labour is as now,  
the spoil thereof to get.  
The town to dust is quite consumed,  
and burnt with scorching fire:  
The trumpets sound triumphantly,  
to cause their men retire.  
Then after when the town is won,  
and all was brought to ground:  
A resting place for all his band,  
there in a town he found.  
In which his wife did dwell, and kept  
a house for hostage there:  
To whom her sons for harbour then,  
unto her do repair,  
Not knowing what she was, in deed,  
they there their rests do take:  
And for their noble victories,  
great joy they oft do make.  
At last the younger doth desire,  
the elder for to tell:  
His young estate, and what to him,  
in childhood oft befell.  
Whose talk the silly mother oft,  
did listen much to know:  
Some news by warriors stoutly done,  
and afterwards might show.  
The same unto her friends that list,  
oft times of wars to talk:  
Therefore full oft I say she doth,  
before the chamber walk.  
At last the eldest said, good friend,  
I do remember well:  
How that my father ruled the Knights,  
of Rome that did excel.  
And eke a Lady fair I had,  
to mother well I know:  
Two children eke they had full fair,  
I well remember so.  
My younger brother was full fair,  
surmounting in degree:  
All other men, so rich he was,  
with gifts of dame beauty.  
Long did they live in joy and bliss,  
within that land I know:  
But yet by night he took a ship,  
and from that land did go.  
Unto a country not far thence,  
the name I do not know:  
The ship is come unto the port,  
and then to land we go.  
My mother she behind was left,  
but how I can not say:  
But as I judge, the Master he,  
my mother there did stay.  
And then from thence we did departed,  
unto a town thereby:  
With heavy mind, until he came,  
unto a great ferry.  
And there he set me down on ground,  
and over straight he bore:  
His younger son over the flood,  
unto the other shore.  
And entering now the flood again,  
me thither for to fetch:  
A cruel Wolf my brother young,  
up in his mouth doth catch.  
And wends his way unto the wood,  
my brother loud doth cry:  
My father still he strived hard,  
again to me to high.  
But out alas, a Lion huge.  
came from the wood amain:  
And snaccht up me, and to the wood  
he did return again.  
But when the Lion great and tall,  
the heard men they do see:  
Their dogs they set upon the beast,  
and so they saved me.  
The younger said, my brother dear,  
even as I heard it told:  
The plowmen took me from a Wolf,  
which had me in his hold.  
By that thou saidst, conjecture I,  
thy brother that I am:  
Lo happy day they both do say,  
that unto wars we came.  
The joy that they do make forsooth,  
no tongue can it express:  
No heart can think, no eye hath seen,  
such blessed joyfulness.  
The mother than hath heard their talk,  
and ponder it well doth she:  
And doth revolve within her mind,  
if that her babes they be.  
Then unto Plasidas she goeth,  
and doth desire him soon:  
That he would let her go with him,  
for she was borne at Rome.  
And as to him these words she spoke,  
in sounding she oft fell:  
And cried at length, O Plasidas,  
I know thee very well.  
I am thy wife poor Theopis,  
which taken was thee fro:  
In midst of floods, when thou from ship,  
unto the land didst go.  
The mighty God of heaven and earth,  
for thee hath kept me clean:  
The Master he for his desert,  
up dart of death is slain.  
Then Plasidas doth well perceive,  
his wife, his love and make:  
His heart, his life, and unto him,  
in arms he doth her take.  
What joy was there I can not tell,  
my fingers weary be:  
To write the same, my eyes like that,  
in world did never see.  
The wife the husband doth embrace,  
the man the wife likewise:  
The joy to show, the tears do gush,  
like streams from out their eyes.  
And in their joy, the wife demands,  
where that her children be:  
Then he did say, my loving wife,  
their deaths myself did see.  
Two cruel beasts with foaming mouths,  
our children both hath slain:  
Then said his wife be of good cheer,  
alive they both remain.  
For lo, the God which unto us,  
this joyful meeting gave:  
By his good grace and power divine,  
did both our children save.  
Then him she told how soldiers twain,  
their infancy did show:  
And straight he sent for those young men,  
the truth of them to know.  
The children both unto him come,  
and each of them doth tell:  
His infancy, by which he knoweth,  
they be his sons full well,  
He than doth kiss and eke embrace,  
those tender babes of his:  
The army then for news hereof,  
in heart right joyful is.  
They spend those days in joy and bliss,  
and after do intend:  
To Roman land triumphantly,  
his host and he to wend.  
But whilst in wars he did abide,  
good Trayan was dead:  
And Adrian in the Empire,  
succeeded in his stead.  
Who in all mischiefs did abound,  
as stories us do tell:  
For persecuting of the truth,  
he did the rest excel.  
When Plasidas to Rome was come,  
and did a time sojourn:  
Then Adrian did him command,  
his Idols to adorn.  
For that the Romans did possess,  
so great a victory:  
But Plasidas would not so do,  
he plainly did deny,  
That they were Gods, and unto him,  
they nought at all could give:  
He said by Christ, in Christ it was,  
that he in world did live.  
Then Adrian commanded that,  
devoured they should be:  
Of a Lion in Church, whereas  
his Gods the fact might see.  
And so it was as he command,  
performed eke and done:  
The Lion he most joyfully,  
unto their feet doth come.  
And there doth lie much like a dog,  
cum caude that doth play:  
And from their feet no man iwis,  
can get the beast away.  
But there he lies and merry makes,  
he doth no hhurt at all:  
Then Adrian doth straight command,  
his men them forth to call,  
And doth command that they be put,  
in Ox of brass to die:  
But nought they care, in Jesus Christ  
they had their trust wholly.  
The Ox with flame is thorough hot,  
and they are put therein:  
And joyfully in Christ they all,  
to sing do then begin.  
Thus ended they their mortal race,  
their file was at an end:  
That we may so endure good Lord,  
to us thy mercy send.   
john Partridge.  
FINIS.