THE
Unfortunate Concubine
OR,
ROSAMONDS Overthrow.
Occasioned by her Brothers praising her Beauty to two young
Knights of Salisbury, as they rid along the Road.
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SWeet youthful charming ladies fair,
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Framd of the purest mold;
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With rosy cheeks and silken hair,
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Which shine like threads of gold.
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Soft tears of pity here bestow,
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On the unhappy fate,
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Of Rosamond, who long ago
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Provd most unfortunate.
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When as the second Henry reignd,
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On the imperi[a]l throne,
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How he this beautiful flower gaind,
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To you I will make known.
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With all the circumstances too
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Which did her Life attend,
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How first she into favour grew,
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And of of her fatal end.
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As three young Knights of Salisbury,
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Were riding on their way,
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One boasted of a lady fair,
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Within her bower so gay.
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I have a sister Clifford swears,
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But few men do her know,
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Upon her face the skin appears
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Like drops of blood on snow.
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My sisters locks of curled hair,
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Outshine the golden ore.
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Her skin for w[i]tne[s]s may compare,
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With the fine lily flower.
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Her breasts were lovely to behold
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Like to the driven snow,
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I would not for her weight in gold,
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King Henry should her know
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King Henry had a bower near,
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Where they were riding by,
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And he his Clifford over-hears.
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Thought he immediately
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Tho I her brother should offend,
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For th[at] fair white and red;
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For her I am resolvd to send,
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To grace my royal bed.
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The King who was of high renown,
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Would not his fancy pall;
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For having wrote his pleasure down.
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He did young Clifford call.
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Come hither to me out of hand,
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Come hither unto me,
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I am the King of England,
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My messenger thou shalt be.
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I to your sister here have writ,
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Three letters seald with gold,
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No messenger I think so fit
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As you. Therefore behold,
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Convey them to her hand with speed,
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Make not the least delay,
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My will and pleasure let her read,
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And my commands obey.
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Young Clifford then the letter took,
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From Henrys royal hand,
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Tho with a meloncholly look
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And mount[e]d out of hand,
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Soft tears bedewd his noble sight,
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His grieved heart was sad,
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Altho he was as brave a knight
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As ever Henry had.
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With that this noble knight of fame,
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Rode on without delay,
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Until he to the bower came,
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Which was both rich and gay.
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She said when he knocked at the ring
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W,ho raps so fierce and bold?
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Sister, I have brought from the king,
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Three letters seald with gold:
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Then with her fingers long and small
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She broke the seals of gold;
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And as she did to reading fall,
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At first you might behold.
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The smiles of pleasant sweet delight,
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As if well satisfied;
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But eer she had concluded quite,
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She wrung her hands and cryd,
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Why did you go beyond your bounds,
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When Oxford you did see?
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You might have talked of your hounds,
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And never braged of me.
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When by the king I am defild,
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My fathers griefs begins,
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Hell have no comfort of his child,
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Nor come to my wedding.
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Go fetch me down my planet book,
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Strate from my private room,
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For in the same I mean to look
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What is decreed my doom.
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The planet-book to her they brought
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And laid it on her knee,
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She found that all would come to nought
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And poisoned she should be.
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I cause you brother, then she cryd,
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Who causd my destiny;
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I might have been a Lords fair bride,
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But you have ruind me.
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With that she calld her waiting-mad,
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To bring her riding weed,
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And to her groom she likewise said,
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Saddle my milk white steed.
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Some rode before her to report
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Her coming to the king,
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As she approach[]d the royal court,
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Sweet peal of bells did ring.
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A garland over her head they bore,
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To magnify her charms,
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And as she came before the king,
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He claspd her in her arms.
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With blushes then she did beseech
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The king on her bare knee,
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These words she said, I pray my lihge,
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What is your will with me?
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Said he, I sent for you, my rose
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To grace my royal bed,
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Now as he did his mind disclose,
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She blushd like scarlet red.
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Blush not my fairest Rosamond,
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Fear no disasterous fate;
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For by my kindly power I can
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Place thee in happy state.
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No lady in this court of mine,
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Can purchase thy desert,
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Thy pleasant looks and charms divine,
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Have won my royal heart.
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The gifts and presents of a king
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Did cause her to comply;
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Thinking there was not any thing
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Like royal dignity.
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But as her bright and golden scene
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In court began to shine,
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The news was brought unto the queen,
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Of this new concubine.
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At which she was enraged so,
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With malice in her breast,
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That till she wrought her overthrow,
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She could not be at rest.
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She felt the fury of a queen,
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Eer she had flourishd long.
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And dyd, just as she had foreseen
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By force of poison strong.
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The angry queen with malice fraught
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Could not herself contain;
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Till she had brought fair Rosamond
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To her sad dismal bane.
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The said sweet and precious rose,
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King Henrys chief delight;
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The queen she to the bower goes,
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And wrought her hateful spite.
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But when she to the bower came
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Where lady Clifford lay?
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Enraged Eleanor by name,
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She could not find the way.
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Until the silken clue of thread,
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Became a fatal guide,
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Unto the queen, who laid her dead,
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Eer she was satisfyd.
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Alas, it was no small surprise,
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To Rosamond the fair;
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When death appeard before her eyes,
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No faithful friend was there.
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Who could stand up in her defence
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To put the poison by:
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Thus by the hand of violence
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Compelld she was to die.
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O most renownd and gracious Queen
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Compassion take on me;
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I wish that I had never seen
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This royal dignity.
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Betrayd I was and by degrees
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A sad consent I gave;
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And now upon my bended knee
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Your pardon I do crave.
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I will not pardon you
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Then take this fatal cup;
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And you may well be satisfyd,
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Ill see you drink it up.
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Then with her fair and lilly hand,
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The fatal cug she took;
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Which being drunk she could not stand,
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But soon the world forsook.
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Now when the [K]ing was well informd
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What Eleanor had done;
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His breast he smote, in wrath he stormd
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As if he would have run
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besides his senses, and he swore
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For this inhuman deed,
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He never would bed with her more,
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His royal heart did bleed.
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The king stood not pausing long
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How to reward her spleen,
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But straitway in a prison strong
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He cast this cruel queen.
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Where she lay six and twenty years,
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A long captivity;
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Bathed in floods of weeping tears,
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Till his death set her free,
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Now when her son did succeed,
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His father, Great Henry,
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His royal mother soon he freed,
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From her captivity.
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And she set more at large,
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Who long for debt had lain;
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Her royal pity did discharge
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Thousands in Richards reign.
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