The Life and Death of the Famous THOMAS STUKELY:
An English Gallant in time of Queen Elizabeth, who ended his Life in a Battel of three
Kings of Barbary. Tune is, King Henrys going to Bulloign, etc.
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IN the West of England,
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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 Clothier's son,
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Deeds of wonders he hath done,
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to purchase him a long and lasting praise.
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If I should tell his story,
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Pride was all his glory,
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and Lusty Stukely, he was call'd in Court;
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He serv'd 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 gain'd 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 spyed,
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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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In weal or woe to lead her life,
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her Father willing, thereto did agree.
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Thus in state and pleas[u]re,
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Full many days they measure,
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till cruel Death with his regardless spight,
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Bore old Curtis to the grave,
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A thing that Stukely wisht to have,
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that he might revel all 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 pound a day in waste;
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The greatest Gall[a]nts in the land,
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Had Stukelys purse at their command,
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thus merrily the time away he past.
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Taverns and ordinaries,
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Were his chiefest braveries,
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golden angels there flew up and down;
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Ryots were his best delight,
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With stately feasting day and nigh,
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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 pavements of the yard,
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Which cover'd were with blocks of tin,
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Old Curtis left the same to him,
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which he consumed lately as you've heard.
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Whereat his wife sore grieved,
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Desiring to be relieved,
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much of me dear Husband, she did say.
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'I'll make much more of thee (said he)
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'Than anyone shall verily,
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sell thy cloaths and so I'll go my way.
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Cruelly thus hard hearted,
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Away from her he parted,
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and travell'd into Italy with speed;
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There he flourisht 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 Lady's pleasure,
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To give him goods and treasure,
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for to maintain him in great pomp and fame;
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At last came news assuredly,
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Of a fought battel 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 his famous fight;
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Whereas three Kings in person would
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Adventurously with courage bold,
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within this battel shew 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 his secrets all did 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 shew his banner,
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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 they rebounded,
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Thundring guns resounded,
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Kill[,] kill, then was all the souldiers cry;
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Mangled men lay on the ground,
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And with blood the earth was drown'd,
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the sun likewise was darkned 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 God's heavy 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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whereby the Kings might their misfortune know,
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Bloody was the slaughter,
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Or rather wilful murder,
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where sixscore thousand fighting men were slain;
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Three Kings within this battle dy'd,
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With forty Dukes and Earls beside,
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the like will never more be fought again.
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With woful arms infolding,
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Stukely stood beholding
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this bloody sacrifice of souls that day;
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He sighing said, 'I woful wight,
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'Against my conscience here do fight,
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brought my followers all unto decay.
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Being thus molested,
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And with grief oppressed,
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those brave Italians that did sell their lands,
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With Stukely for to travel forth,
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And venture life for little worth,
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upon him all did lay their murdering hands.
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Unto death thus wounded,
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His heart with sorrow swounded,
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and to them thus he made his heavy moan:have I left my country dear,
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'To be so vilely murthered here,
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in this place whereas 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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vainly spent in idle course of life;
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'What I have had is past I see,
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'And bringeth nought but grief to me,
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grant me pardon gentle wife.
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'Life I see consumeth,
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'And death I see presumeth
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change this life of mine into a new:
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'Yet this my greatest comfort brings,
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'I liv'd and dy'd in love of Kings;
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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 souldier buryed 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 piersing to the sky.
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