HONOURS FAME IN TRIUMPH RIDING.  
OR, THE LIFE AND DEATH OF THE LATE HONOURABLE EARL OF ESSEX.  
LONDON, Printed by R. B. for Roger jackson, and are to be sold at his Shop in Fleetstreet, near the Conduit. 1604.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLS OF SOUTHAMPTON and Devonshire, and the Lord KNOULES, Baron of Gray's, R. P. wisheth all increase of honour, and endless happiness.  
RIght honourable, and worthily renowned Lords, such is the mutability of times unconstant motion: as that things well done cannot challenge, to themselves, the certainty of their event, nor without suspect of evil (misconstrued inputation) build their hope. And when the well meaning actions of mighty men cannot (in permanent stability) stand cleared from the after-rays'd-vp misty Meteors which may encumber them: what then should I expect (being no other than poverty itself) but that this work, by me adventured should with myself dangerously run upon uncertain hopes? although the uprightness of my conscience vows, I have not hereunto been lead by any particular invective spleen or turbulent affection: only a private consideration made me think, that it might now be a time in which the praise of honour's worthiness might have his place, and not any longer by a violent imposition be taxed with undeserved evil. It were inhuman tyranny, to forbid the virtues of the dead to be commended: and no less cruelty to charge the deceased with uncommitted offences. There are certain politicians in this age, not unlike the Grecian Orators, which Diogenes called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, thrice double men: their tongues and pens are miserably valiant: they may well be termed three times thrice double minded men: their eyrie stations tottering stands aloft; like windmills placed upon a mountains top, whose sails can turn themselves to embrace the benefit of each variable blast: but, being climbed unto an extraordinary height, are oft times by an unexpected storm suddenly thrown headlong down, and broken at the mountains foot: leaving their recuerlesse ruins to remain unmoaned monuments of their presumptuous mounting. Some golden money mouthed eloquence, that useth a detractors Oratry, may stop the unequal current of his fine wits most gross engendered flux, by fetching from the Tyrant Nero a very well prescribed document. For plainly thus his affirmation saith: that it is no part of a wise man thence to draw credit to himself, from whence proceedeth discredit to his friend. Is it not marvel that a rhetorical politician should be less wise than wicked Nero was? & that his sentence should directly call him fool? yet thus it happeneth, when with the change of time, Time servers use to say, Hac non successit: alia aggrediendum est via.  
When honour and unstained nobility, by ill advise and inconsiderate thoughts, untimely falls into some dangerous accident: then though the law, in robes of justice armed, with quick pursuit doth follow evils amiss: yet should no mind on such dependence dwell: as if his wished▪ for time of triumph were embraced, when he might glory in honoured virtues fall: and like a lump of proud degenerate brazen insolence, even in the gall of envy, hate, and malice steeped, scornfully impugn the honour of a Lands renowned nobleness. God, with my soul, an uncontrowled witness bear: I not desire to speak against the justice of the law, nor any honourable magistrate in place of Council or of government: only my words may nearly glance at such whose proud demeanour, & insulting violence, made to the world an apparent demonstration that they were most joyful actors in a mournful tragedy: but now the justice of the heavens decree hath most justly thrown themselves unto the stroke of the self same judgement. And now, my honourable Lords, when I look back unto my own unworthiness, my Muse doth sound retreat, and bids me stay the further occurrence of some other things, which would most willingly be issuing forth. And for this little work already done by me, with low submission I entreat your pardon: and do solemnly protest, that the unfeigned love I bear unto the late Honourable, and yet still honoured Earl of Essex, hath with an inevitable force caused me to make this brief description of his life and death. And though I desire to be freed from a Poet's name; yet because the music of a mourning verse doth best consort with sorrows passion, I have made choice thereof, in hope your L L. will be pleased to excuse my unpolished, rough, unsmoothed Poetry. My greatest study with religious care hath sought to build my words upon the ground of truth: & having brought my labour to an end, I knew not better unto whom to dedicate the same, then to your Honours. Not for my sake then, but for his, whose virtues I desire should live, be pleased to receive this well meaning work into your loves protection: and thus, with all submissive humbleness, a soldier humbly throws his lives service at your honours feet.  
Yours, in all dutiful obedience, R. P.   

To the Reader, health.  
ALthough, right courteous Reader, my former writings have not so emboldened me, as that I should again adventure to bring myself unto so miserable a punishment, as the third time to endure the press: yet choosing rather to die, than not to manifest my love unto an honourable deceased Earl, I have, out of the affection of an honest mind, desired to set before your eyes the fame of honour, in his Triumph riding: and do hope, that for his sake, whose living virtues I labour to commend, this work of mine shall bring itself into your kind acceptance. And as you desire that the plants of honour, now established, should flourish with a glorious dignity, do not choose out any one particular, whose fame and praise you will desire to follow, with the generality of a popular estimation: nor involve the person of a noble man in the airy clouds of your intemperate ave: lest the honour, which you most desire to preserve, be untimely poisoned by your breath: of which event, this after following brief description contains a mournful spectacle. Read therefore with re▪spectiue diligence, and have great regard, you do no injury, by setting any imposition in his wrong place: which you shall directly do, if you bear my words against any, which do now continue in place of honour, honourably deserving: for unto them the Author doth ascribe all honourable estimation. Thus the good opinion of each well affected reader he desireth, whose heart preferreth their content before his own, whose life is ready in a soldiers place, unto the last article of death, to manifest the unfeigned love he beareth unto his country's public benefit. Vale.   

honours fame, in Triumph riding.  

FRom forth the dust, my lines desire to raise  
bright honours fame, in triumphs state to ride,  
Whose living worth did so adorn his praise,  
as that his glory shall to the world abide  
The only Mirror of a valiant mind,  
Whose Honours thoughts, not to base wealth inclined,  
Do make him live, though long since dead,  
And crowns with bays his buried head.   

Whilst breath gave strength, unto his warlike arm,  
he did uphold the pomp of England's state:  
He strove to shield his native soil from harm,  
and did the pride of proudest foes abate:  
A kingdoms eyes once saw his faithful trust,  
And did account his actions wise and just:  
Great Majesty, and wisdoms Queen,  
Would say his like was never seen.   

Even from his youth, till years of riper strength,  
in virtues school, a studious life he spent:  
His honours thoughts desired & gained, at length,  
Minerva's food the sweet of his content:  
Apollo decked his Muse in silver's shine,  
And wrapped in gold his golden thoughts divine:  
Honours wonder, wisdoms mirror,  
In his brave breast lived together.   

When creeping time had brought to manhoods years  
this honoured bud all glorious in his spring,  
Then as the sun from forth a cloud appears,  
and doth his light with greater brightness bring:  
So did this prince: his thoughts majestical  
Made him to be great Lesters General;  
Brave troops of horse he bravely led,  
And thus at first his fame was spread.   

But when to France his warlike mind had brought  
himself, well armed, upon bay Traces back:  
The king and Lords his love and favour sought,  
nor gold nor coin that valiant prince could lack.  
I saw his sword all bathed in Foeman's blood,  
A broken lance in Traces breast there stood:  
French king and Peers did dignify  
This Peerless warriors Chivalry.   

But when he went to fruitful Portugal,  
for to inthroane a mournful banished king,  
How did his deeds his praise to heaven exhale!  
his honours worth you sacred Muses sing.  
Spain's Chronicle, and Lisbon gates can tell,  
His warlike arm deserved wondrous well:  
His foes themselves keep in record,  
That none durst combat with that Lord.   

When Sunburnt Spain in heat of anger's toil,  
Did with his Lords in sollome counsel set:  
Vowing to work fair Albion's utter spoil,  
Against whose state his breast with spleen did fret:  
This news no sooner unto Albion came,  
But this brave prince, was thought the worthiest man:  
And as Spain meant to work our woe,  
He thither went, and used them so.   

Let Cales tell forth the honour of his deeds,  
His valiant prows, and his justice such:  
As who so but their own description reed,  
Will say of truth, that he deserved as much  
As ever any noble Conqueror did,  
His Conquering sword was with such mercy led:  
As dateless time shall speak his fame,  
And blaze the honour of his name.   

In field, in Court, in peace, in war, he stood  
Environed with honour and desert:  
From him did flow the streams of virtues flood,  
He doubtless had a sound and faithful heart,  
To Prince and States, and for the public weal,  
The things amiss he always sought to heal:  
Thus did he stand beloved of all,  
And yet the Fates decreed his fall.   

Unhappy time that sent him from this land,  
Unhappy wars that his employment sought:  
Unhappy broils raised by rebellious hand,  
Unhappy cause that fowl suspicion wrought:  
Unhappy all, for all unhappy be,  
Unhappy those that wished his misery:  
Unhappy means that did direct,  
The cause to work untrue suspect.   

His noble self, had he been fortunate,  
Ireland's peace had well effected been:  
Without mistrust of danger to the state,  
But when to march his army did begin,  
Some miss there was, directions all not kept,  
Envy roused up, that winked but never slept:  
Advantage took, when harmless thought,  
To good effect would all have brought.   

In course of war, a Prince both wise and just,  
Must not by book his march and battles make:  
To each occasion turn his hand he must,  
And as offence is given, so wisely take  
Advantage of the cause, the time and place,  
Precribed rules will else procure disgrace:  
These paper plots wants judgement right,  
To teach an army how to fight.   

But this I think, and heavens me witness bear,  
Though ill success upon his Troops did wait  
His honour's mind, still kept a princely care  
Wars work to do without corrupt deceit,  
And willingly he never did intend  
His force against his country's good to bend:  
But seeming ill was ill approved  
By them who not his honour loved.   

Harmless in thought when he a peace had made,  
He back returns to his beloved Queen,  
Thinking to rest secure under her shade,  
To whom she had a gracious mistress been:  
But wanting warrant for his back return,  
Displeased anger softly 'gan to burn:  
And some that did a flame desire,  
Threw flax and oil into the fire.   

This action thus when it at first begun,  
And he restrained from Court a prisoner sent:  
In Ireland shined fair England's golden Sun,  
Whose valiant mind to virtuous actions bend:  
With wisdoms care and honoured labour sought,  
The means whereby rebellions land was brought:  
Unto that peace which first was framed,  
By him whom some unjustly blamed.   

The Queen of justice hearing what was done,  
That perfit honour with an humble mind:  
With low submission to her Throne did run,  
And craved he might her mercy's favour find:  
Her Princely heart contentments joy embraced,  
And in her love, loves Lord again was placed:  
Then was there hope that shortly he,  
To place in Court restored should be.   

But Envy, why didst thou again conspire?  
Abused occasion, why didst thou displease?  
Suspicion, why didst thou inflame new fire?  
Were all agreed bright honours crest to seize?  
What secret action did enact the thing,  
That discontent to Mercies Queen did bring?  
She was appeased, what new sown seed,  
Brought forth such fruit her wrath to breed.   

Was all things well, and all things ill so soon?  
Was no mistrust, and now mistrust abounding:  
Was't then a time to light a torch at noon?  
Was honour them self-honors course confounding?  
Why this was strange, from Court to keep him still,  
'Twas not amiss to doubt some farther ill:  
Such worshippers of policy,  
Commits most fowl idolatry.   

But by this means true honour was restrained,  
From her the mistress of his life and death:  
He found himself of base-bred grooms disdained,  
In passion than he sight forth sorrows breath:  
The presence of his Queen whose sight most joyed him,  
Had given him life, the want thereof destroyed him.  
Oh that a Loyal heart should be,  
Shut from his Sovereign's clemency.   

Let but the man of honour and renown,  
That is adorned with his Sovereign's love:  
Whose heart is sound unto the State and Crown,  
Whose thoughts do always faithful motions move:  
If exiled from his King he should remain,  
And as a Traitor bear dishonours stain:  
What would he think, or what course take?  
Let noble minds the answer make.   

From hence at last griefs boundless Ocian flows,  
Turning woes streams into a flood of sorrow:  
And to such height sad discontentment grows,  
As that it seeks some means of help to borrow:  
Hope tells a course, that's crossed, an other sought,  
This urged occasion his confusion wrought:  
Still to his Queen he strives to go,  
Kept back afresh, begins his woe.   

Thus months and years in restless harbour tossed,  
A patient hope endures a raging storm:  
Bright honours ship did find itself near lost,  
His Cable burst, and all his tackle torn:  
Through rocks, through cliffs, through walls of brass,  
His noble mind did then resolve to pass:  
For if to Thetis get he could,  
Save life, and men, and ship he should.   

Thence did proceed the rigour of that day,  
When hapless life to live did helpless strive:  
Despair enraged did bear too great a sway,  
Hope could not at his wish for haven arrive:  
Revenge, mistrust and hate, prevention wrought,  
With bloody mouths, they his destruction sought  
From evil to worse, poor Earl he fled,  
So was he to the slaughter led.   

Guarded with friends, untimely forth he goes,  
To raise a force so strong his part to take:  
As that he might remove his settled foes,  
And to his Queen a quiet passage make:  
But faithless hate did presently devise,  
Proclaim him traitor, out aloud he cries;  
The name of traitor killed him dead,  
So he alive was murdered.   

Doubtless I think he had no Traitors heart,  
Against Queen and State he did no treason plot;  
No more did they that then did take his part:  
He only strove against them that loved him not:  
But yet the Law their act did treason make.  
Such hostile arms no subjects up must take.  
Thus when he thought an evil to shun,  
A greater evil by him was done.   

The Law hath past, justice his stroke hath struck,  
And he is dead, yet shall he still survive:  
Upon his honoured Virtues will I look,  
And make them live as were himself alive:  
He died for treason; yet no Traitor. Why?  
The Treason done, he did it ignorantly.  
Intent and purpose in the act,  
Is that which makes a traitors fact.   

But God forbid such Action should be good,  
As rashly into rude Combustion throws  
A kingdoms State, and wraps her breast in blood;  
Where peace in pomp with glorious plenty grows.  
And for this cause, I think that justice ment,  
To make his death a mournful Precedent:  
His trial could example give.  
Why did not Mercy let him live?   

Because that Mercy not arightly knew  
His heart, whom she disloyal did account,  
Report did feed her taste with Gall and Rue;  
For by his fall, some other up must mount,  
And so they have the Gallows top unto;  
For ever so may such like Mounters do:  
But God is just, so shall they find,  
That lay their plots with bloody mind.   

With humble lines to England's honoured State,  
A soldiers passion doth desire to fly,  
Who never sought that Lord to ruinate,  
Nor chase him with bloodthirsty cruelty.  
True honour? No, some base stuff it was,  
That sought to bring that stratagem to pass:  
For in that time Peers were no men,  
They walked about like shadows then▪   

Yet in the rank of Honour, Honour's grace,  
Reverend, renowned, religious, virtuous, learned,  
Grave, sober, chaste, upheld a Primates place,  
Whose godly wisdom England's eyes discearnd,  
His soul divine was to that Earl a friend,  
Whom froward fate bequeathed to fatal end:  
But now their souls in purest love,  
Live with their Christ in heavens above.   

Then Honour's Seat, and Wisdoms fountain pure,  
judgement approved, the rule of Conscience sound,  
His grieved thoughts did woes extreme endure,  
As did his love: so did his griefs abound.  
A justice Chief, an equal love prefers:  
No kingdom hath two worthier justicers:  
Both these did mourn when Honour fell;  
For both were known to wish him well.   

And in my mind of Lords & Earls I view  
A mourning troop, whose looks all downward thrown,  
Told to the world, that they were mourners true;  
They reaped the fruit that sorrows seed had sown:  
Ladies wise, fair, and chaste, they weeping went,  
Sad time sad cause procured their discontent:  
Though Law strict course of justice kept,  
The most and best of all sorts wept.   

Then Noble minds will help my Muse to mourn  
The loss of him, whom Honour did advance,  
In their sad thoughts, have Sable robes been worn,  
They sigh to think of that sinister chance,  
Whose bloody hand with fatal death snatched hence  
That honoured Earl, true Honour's Excellence.  
Do him this right, and Honour gain,  
Pluck from his Hearse false rumours stain.   

Oh how I grieve! Report doth wound my soul:  
So many treasons against that Earl objected,  
Who whilst he lived, could those reports control;  
And but in one, that last, and least detected:  
Kill him no more, too well we know he's dead,  
Whose life would now a joys content have bred.  
No paper-powder raised up smoke,  
Can Fame's true honoured virtues choke.   

It's false, to say, he would a King have been:  
From faith & honour he made no such digression:  
His heart was clear from such so foul a sin,  
He always stood for this approved Succession,  
Which happily doth now the Throne possess:  
Heavens mighty God protect his Mightiness.  
Dead Earl, amidst bright Angels wings,  
Amen thy heavenly Spirit sings.   

Damn up your mouths, foul envies insolence,  
Fill not the world with monstrous mouthed lies,  
Of hate and malice you are the Instruments,  
Though smoothly you can closely temporize:  
Wrong not the dead, nor living honour wound:  
Let not one fault all virtues worth confound.  
To make the best of things misdone,  
Hath always greatest honour won.   

No cause there was, that in his luckless fall,  
So proudly some should triumph as they did,  
Against an Earl to spit empoisoned gall:  
But bloody thoughts were made in blood so red  
As heat and rage too much himself forgot,  
And boldly spoke, he cared not how, nor what.  
No upstart groom sprung from the Cart,  
Should brave the honour of a lands desert.   

So use base minds in greatness to forget  
The place whence first they their beginning had,  
Their proud disdain the noblest breast would hit:  
The fall of honour makes them wondrous glad.  
So was't: or else he rather would have wept,  
Then proudly such a ruffling coil have kept:  
In this I joy, his Prophecy  
The time hath turned to foolery.   

He was not last, though last that so shall end.  
We have a Bud, sprung from that honoured Branch:  
God, in thy love do thou that Earl defend,  
And so his state by virtues steps advance,  
As he may grow an honour to his King,  
Whose mercy did his youth to honour bring:  
And he that dressed his father's dish,  
Lord, let his end be worse than his.   

England, bear witness, deceased Honour died  
Rich in thy Love, his Love was pure to thee,  
Not for his gain; but for thy good he tried,  
To do what might become his Dignity:  
He hated Bribes, Extortion he defied,  
gain by thy loss, his noble heart denied:  
To do thee good, he spent his wealth,  
His joy consisted in thy health.   

The Church of God, Divine religious Grace  
Was graced by him, his heavenly sanctity,  
Unto the written Truth of God gave place,  
His heart did love the reverend Ministry:  
All Popish trash, and Rome's inventions wild,  
Were from his Soul, as hateful things exiled.  
Good men from foes he did protect,  
The poor he never did reject.   

He was no Churl, nor wretch-like covetous,  
His noble Breast, as dross, base gold esteemed,  
Valiant, Liberal, Wise and Virtuous,  
His honour more than all world's wealth he deemed.  
Some could in print his honoured Bounty scorn,  
That largely bare from him great sheaves of corn.  
Such tricks as these time-servers use.  
What Virtue will they not abuse?   

He faithful was and constant to his friend,  
In Love and justice always permanent,  
His Honour's Word, who did thereon depend,  
Found, that true Action with his Promise went,  
No purse nor pocket could that Lord contain  
Who gives most. Fie, he scorned such hateful gain.  
No partial eye made bad things good;  
betwixt both, that Prince uprightly stood.   

He was not hollow, like the Vaults of hell,  
His soundness fled from base hypocrisy,  
He fetched no rules from hellborn Machiavelli,  
His learning was divine Philosophy,  
His word and deed without a false intending,  
In Honours List went on, the Truth commending;  
His virtues steps to Truth inclined,  
Close subtle falsehood undermined.   

In deeds of War, he was a Soldier tried,  
True Fortitude dwelled in his valiant breast,  
The hope of England on his Sword relied,  
Amongst our Worthies let him stand for best:  
When he was armed in wars Habiliments,  
His Glory seemed a matchless Excellence;  
His person, as his virtues rare,  
Might Peerless with the world compare.   

His Wisdom, Learning and his Eloquence,  
His well-graced speech and flowing utterance,  
His quick conceit and Wisdoms comprehence:  
All these rare Gifts his honour did advance,  
And made him live the Mirror of our time,  
Beyond whose worth, no worthier step could climb.  
God and Nature did consent,  
To make his Substance excellent.   

He was not proud, but humble, courteous, meek:  
Ambitious then, who rightly term him can?  
From Arctic Pole to the Antarctic seek,  
But never find a braver Gentleman:  
Cross all the Zoans, and in no Climate dwells  
A Virtue, that his virtues worth excels:  
But he is dead, yet shall he live,  
Fame to his praise shall honour give.   

Where's now the heart of Flint or Marble stone,  
That mourns not for the loss of him so dear?  
The Flower of a kingdoms pride is gone:  
No Time, no land brought forth a worthier Peer:  
No King nor Queen a better servant had,  
No Subject more did make his country glad:  
And for his fault, to mourn with me,  
Millions of weeping eyes I see.   

Who so beheld the choice of nature's art,  
with noble presence and Majestic steps,  
When from his chamber honour did depart,  
to place prepared a fatal death to fetch,  
Might there have seen shine in a princely eye,  
The beams of honour and nobility:  
Valiant prowess, resolution rare,  
Undaunted thoughts to death did bear.   

He like himself in robes of honour clad,  
with countenance clear and looks heroical,  
Went on as if in heart he had been glad,  
to meet his friends at some great festival.  
His noble mind the path of death did tread,  
As if it did unto some triumph lead.  
And thus by this think in thy thought,  
Thou see'st him to the scaffold brought.   

Nay weep not yet, read on, an Earl behold,  
as constant as is heavens celestial frame:  
See how he mounts with valiant courage bold,  
in blood to write the letters of his fame.  
Upon the scaffold see him walking now,  
To death's spectators doth he humbly bow:  
Oh her's a sight yet comes a worse,  
To make the world that time to curse.   

The oracle of godly wisdom then,  
with silver sound, these speeches forth did send:  
My Lords, and all you worthy Gentlemen,  
that comes to see the period of my end.  
I not deny, but this confess I must,  
My trial hath been honourably, just:  
And so the law my cause did try,  
As justice doomed me thus to die.   

Yet in the presence of that all Creator's sight,  
before whose throne I presently shall stand:  
Against the state I never bent my might,  
nor 'gainst my sovereign reared a traitor's hand,  
Some private foes my sword would have displaced,  
By whom I thought my honour was disgraced:  
From that intent grew my amis,  
For which offence death welcome is.   

With things below I have not now to deal,  
my peace twixt God and conscience must I make▪  
And that my Christ his wounds my wounds may heal  
pray all with me that God for Christ his sake,  
Would in his death entomb my sins most wild,  
That dying, I may die his faithful child:  
So kneeling down, zeal, sorrow, faith,  
To God a heavenly prayer saith.   

Not any tongue more heavenly graces spoke,  
not any heart more godly sorrow felt:  
Not any Prince a wiser prayer could make,  
not any soul with God and conscience dealt  
More plainly, nor made better testament,  
That from this world his soul to glory went,  
With gracious spirit he begins,  
And graciously his prayer ends.   

Then rising up, with unstainde glory still,  
he doth himself for stroke of death prepare:  
Off goes his gown, and with an humble will,  
his band thrown hence, his neck holeaveth bare.  
His doublet next, his honoured self lays by,  
with smiling looks, and cheerful majesty,  
To read, and weep, is order kept,  
With him that sighed, and writ, and wept.   

The hand that then should send him to his grave,  
he calls to see, fear plays the hangman's part,  
But Nobleness, a noble welcome gave,  
my friend said he, why faints thou in thy heart.  
Resolve to do thy office cheerfully,  
The death's man kneeling, doth for pardon cry.  
Honour bids rise, why shouldst thou fear,  
Thou art but justice minister.   

Thus nobly did the life of honours breath,  
a conqueror like all worlds respects subdue:  
So did he triumph in the gates of death,  
as if he than no such like danger knew.  
Oh let his fame unto the world be spread,  
Whose fortitude was never conquered:  
Let thy conceit his action see,  
And read, and sigh, and weep with me.   

Now takes heleave of all the standers by,  
his comely grace was virtues ornament:  
Grief then drowned up each sad beholder's eye,  
whilst his blessed soul was wrapped in sweet content.  
Then kneeling down, all prostrate flat he lies,  
With neck on block, his blood to sacrifice,  
And to his death's man say he did,  
Strike when thou seest my arms are spread.   

There might you see how Honour down was thrown,  
and yet his eyes from earth to heaven ascends:  
His youth was like a lofty Cedar grown,  
but now his death his soul to heaven commends.  
My Christ saith he, I come, thy arms unfold,  
My soul do thou in thy embracements hold:  
And thus he bids the world adieu,  
And then his arms abroad he threw.   

Stay, pause, think, sigh, weep first, & then read on,  
now comes a sight to rend woes heart in sunder:  
No mournful eye did ever look upon  
a woeful work performed with greater wonder.  
Resolved honour now perceive you may,  
All fearless for the stroke of death doth stay:  
His eyes, his looks to heaven commends,  
The place to which his soul intends.   

Base wretch, whose hand true honours blood should spill,  
death's axe did first into his shoulder strike:  
Upreared again he strikes a blow as ill,  
nor one nor other were directed right.  
Honour ne'er moved, a third blow did divide  
The body from the world's admired pride:  
Was that the way to lose a head,  
To have an Earl so butchered?   

From gaping wounds pure streams of blood gushed forth  
from azurd veins the food of life distilled:  
Wisdom, love, faith, renown and honour both,  
were all at once thus hacked, thus chopped, thus killed.  
There was a sight to send forth sorrows flood,  
A Swanny whiteness wrapped in robes of blood:  
But think you saw him, and for his sake,  
Then let your tears woes period make.   

Thus masacard in strength of lusty youth,  
was England's Earl, whose worth the world admired  
His life till now had proved his honours truth,  
untimely was his fatal death conspired.  
If any read, whose hand was stained therein,  
Let some vild death, make known his damned sin,  
The rest that mourn, let sorrows tie  
Make honours fame in triumph ride.   

Go to the Courts of Denmark, France & Spain,  
and sadly tell his doleful tragic scene:  
And mark what sighs your words will entertain,  
and see what tears from honoured eyes will stream  
In any place within earth's compass round,  
This tale but told, may sighs and tears be sound:  
Fair Ladies they with drowned up eyes  
To honours fame will sacrifice.   

And when report hath told his sorrows story,  
his life and death, and actions done by him:  
Then reared up hands will wonder at his glory,  
each hearer seems in sorrows floods to swim,  
And then they say, would not his Queen forgive  
His fault that such a peerless prince might live?  
Yes, had she known as much as they,  
He had not then been cast away.   

Her Royal breast was falsely oft accused,  
of cruel deeds but She was mercy's child  
For honours death She well may be excused,  
by private tales rough work was smoathly filled.  
Could he but once Her glories sight have gained,  
And unto Her, his wrongs and woes complained:  
Then had he lived, and that they knew,  
Whose hate her heart from him withdrew.   

But could her eyes these weeping lines peruse,  
her princely tears would show her sorrows grief:  
Herself would say, they did her grace abuse  
, that in that action were the actors chief.  
And truth to say, I think her Majesty:  
Was chiefest mourner in that tragedy,  
Though now a fluent nimble wit,  
Can boldly play the politic.   

I do not strive invectively to speak,  
nor have I will, a wilful harm to do:  
A peace confirmed I would by no means break,  
yet can I not like fawning flatterers woe.  
Let truth be truth, and free the dead from wrong,  
And blame him not that sings this sorrows song,  
For him who did a soldier love,  
Whose death a soldiers grief doth move.   

Unto his Country, his honour's blood he gave,  
which for his Country, more better had been spent:  
Unkind his Country, that worthy blood to crave,  
which was for her, and for her service bend.  
His mother England having slain her son,  
The world will say it was unkindly done:  
Though justice may with this dispense,  
It wanted mercy's influence.   

This Iron world hath Angel mercy left,  
world's worldlings they that virtue hence have driven:  
This rotten age is of that grace bereft,  
that mercy now is only placed in heaven.  
And thither is the ghost of honour fled,  
Through airy orbs by heavenly angels led,  
Unto that place where joy excels,  
And there the soul of honour dwells:   

Where God and Christ, and holy ghost combined,  
invironde are with glory more, then if  
Ten hundred thousand suns at once all shined,  
and clearly should their radiant splendence guise.  
Amidst that glory the soul of Essex stands,  
In endless joy upheld by Angels hands,  
Then mourn no more, heaven hath his spirit,  
Whose life on earth such praise did merit.   

But now heavens God, King, Queen & Prince and state,  
environ round within thy loves protection:  
Let Britons Monarch like the world's triumph rate,  
rule still in peace, ruled by thy laws direction.  
His Nobles bless, and let no private hate,  
Procure the means our peace to ruinate:  
And thus my Muse his farewell gives,  
And tells the world Fame's honour lives.    

Upon the Author and his subject.  

THou that true Honour from the grave dost raise,  
And on Fame's golden wings dost make it fly:  
Who with thy Pen the never dying praise,  
From ground dost lift up to the Starry sky,  
Of that brave Earl, whose life the greatest glory,  
Whose death to Britain yields the saddest story.   

Oh give me leave thy faithful heart t'admire.  
Which sufferest not thy love with him to die:  
But with thy Muse dost make affections fire  
To shine most bright, now he entombed doth lie.  
And as thy sword while he enjoyed his breath,  
So now thy Pen doth serve him after death.   

Thy work I cannot say doth match his worth,  
For heaven and earth doth equal that no more:  
'tis praise for Prickets Pen, if it prick forth  
Some gowned Muse his fortunes to deplore.  
Scholars and Soldiers both were to him bound,  
Why should they not be both like thankful found:   

All those brave romans whom the world admired  
So much for their high magnanimity,  
With moral virtues were not more inspired,  
Besides his clear light of Divinity.  
All his life's morn he like a Roman led,  
At noon like a Divine went to death's bed.   

Epita. There sleeps great Essex, darling of mankind,  
Fair honours lamp, foul envies prey, Art's fame,  
Nature's pride, virtues bulwark, lure of mind,  
Wisdoms flower, Valours' tower, Fortune's shame:  
England's sun, Belgias light, Frances star, Spain's thunder,  
Lysbones lightning, Ireland's cloud, the whole world's wonder.   
Ch. Best. Arm.