The LIFE and DEATH of
The Famous Thomas Stukely,
An English Gentleman, in the Time of Queen Elizabeth;
who ended his Life in the Battle of the Three Kings of Barbary.
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IN the west of Eagland,
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Born there was, I understand;
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A famous gallant was he in his days;
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By birth a wealthy clothiers son,
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Deeds of wonder he hath done,
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To purchase him a long and lasting praise
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If I would tell you his story,
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Pride was all his glory;
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And lusty Stukely he was calld in court.
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He servd a bishop in the west,
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And did accompany the best;
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Maintaining of himself in gallant sort.
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Being thus esteemed,
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And every where well deemed,
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He gaind the favour of a London dame;
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Daughter to an alderman.
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Curtis she was called then,
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To whom a suitor gallantly he came.
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When she his person spied,
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He could not be denyed;
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So brave a gentleman he was to see.
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She was quickly made his wife,
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For better for worse to lead her life;
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Her father willing thereto did agree,
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Thus in state and pleasure,
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Full many days the9 measure;
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Till cruel Death, with his regardless spight,
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Bore old Curtis to his grave;
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A thing which Stukely wishd to have,
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That he might revel then in gold so bright.
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He was no sooner tombed,
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But Stukely he presumed,
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To spend a hundred pounds a day in waste.
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The greatest gallant in the land,
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Had Stukelys purse at their command.
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Thus merrily away the time he past.
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Taverns and ordinaries
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Were his chief Bravaries;
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Golden angels then flew up and down.
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Riots were his chief delight,
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With stately feasting day and night;
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In court and city thus he won renown.
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Thus wasting lands and living,
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By this lawless giving;
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At length he sold the pavement of the yard,
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Which covered was with blocks of tin;
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Old Curtis left the same to him,
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Which he consumed lately as youve heard.
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At this his wife sore grieved,
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Desiring to be relieved;
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Make much of me, dear husband, she did say.
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Ill make more of thee, said he,
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Than any one shall verily;
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Ill sell thy cloaths, and then go my way.
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Cruelly thus heard-hearted,
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Away from her he parted;
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And traveld into Italy with speed:
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There he flourishd many a day,
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In his silks and rich array;
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And did the pleasures of a lady feed.
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It was the ladys pleasure,
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To give him gold and treasure;
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To maintain him with great pomp and fame,
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At last news came assuredly,
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Of a battle fought in Barbary;
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And he would valiantly go see the same.
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Many a noble gallant,
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Sold both land and talent,
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To follow Stukely in this famous fight;
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Whereas three kings would
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Adventrously with courage bold,
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Within this battle shewd themselves in fight.
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Stukely and his followers all,
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Of the king of Portugal,
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Had entertainment like to gentlemen.
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The king affected Stukely so,
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That he did his secrets know;
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And bore his royal standard now and then.
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Upon this day of honour,
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Each man did his manner.
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Morocco, and the king of Barbary,
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Portugal, and all his train,
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Bravely glittering on the plain,
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And gave the onset there most valiantly.
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The cannons there rebounded;
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Ad[d] thundering guns resounded;
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Kill, kill, then was the soldiers cry.
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Mangled men lay on the ground,
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And with blood the earth was drownd;
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The sun was likewis darkend in the sky.
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Heaven was so displeased,
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And would not be appeased;
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But tokens of Gods wrath did show:
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That he was angry at this war,
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He sent a fearful blazing star,
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Thereby the king might his misfortune know.
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Bloody was the slaughter,
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Or rather cursed murder;
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Where sixscore thousand fighting men be slain.
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Three kings within this fight dyd,
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And forty lords and dukes beside;
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The like may never more be fought again.
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With woeful arms enfolding,
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Stukely stood beholding,
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This cursed sacrifice of men that day.
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He sighing said, I wicked wight,
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Against my conscience here to fight;
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And brought my followers unto decay.
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Being thus sore vexed,
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And with grief oppressed;
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These brave Italians that sold their lands,
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With Stukely to venture forth,
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And hazard life for nothing worth,
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Upon him then did cast their cursed hands.
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Unto death thus wounded,
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His heart with sorrow swooned;
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Unto them he made his heavy moan:
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Thus have I left my country dear,
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To be in this manner murderd here?
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Even in this place where I am not known.
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My wife I have much wronged,
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Of what to her belonged,
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I did consume in wicked course of life.
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What I had is past I see,
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And brings nought but grief to me:
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Therefore grant me pardon, loving wife.
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Life I see consumeth,
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And Death I see presumeth
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To change this life of mine into a new;
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Yet this my greatest comfort brings,
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I livd ahd dyd in love of kings.
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And so brave Stukely bids the world adieu.
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Stukelys life thus ended,
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Was after death befriended,
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And like a soldier buried gallantly:
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Where now there stands upon the grave
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A stately temple builded brave,
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With golden turrets piercing to the sky.
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