The Life and Death of the Famous Thomas Stukely.
An English Gallant in the time of Queen Elizabeth, who ended his Life in a Battel of three
Kings of Barbary. Tune is, King Henrys going to Bulloign.
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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 Clothiers 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'da 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 everywhere 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 he 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 cou[l]d 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 pleasure,
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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 Gallants in the Land,
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Had Stukely's Pu[r]se 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 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 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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make much of me dear Husband she did say,
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I'le make much more of thee (said he)
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Than anyone shall verily,
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I'll sell thy Cloaths and so i'le 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 travel'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 Ladies pleasure,
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To give him goods and treasure,
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for to maintain him in great pomp & fame
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At last came news assuredly,
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Of a fought Battel in Barbery,
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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 Tallent
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to follow Stukely in this famous fight;
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Whereas three Kings in person would,
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Adventurously with cou[r]age 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 than
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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 glistering 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 Son 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 Gods 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 misfortunes know.
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Bloody was the slaughter,
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Or rather wilfull 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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and 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;
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Thus have I left my Country dear,
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To be so vilely murthered here,
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e'en in this place whereas I am not known.
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My Wife I much have wronged
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Of what to her belonged,
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I 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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therefore 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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to 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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and so brave Stukely bids the world adieu.
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Stukely's 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 piercing to the Sky.
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