Woulde he haue warre, and we to warre proclame?
O Bastarde Duke, and dost thou dare to fyght?
My Noble men, Come forth, and purchase Fame.
Geue me my swoorde, let me defende my right
Steppe foorth with speede my Martiall men of myght:
With Bowes and Bylles let vs their course restrayne:
And teach them that their vaunting vowes be vayne.

But that we may with wysedome wisely woorke,
It vs behoues in Normandy to fight
With hym, and not to let his souldiers lurke
Here in my Realme, we shal thereby achiue
No noble acte, though hence we him do driue.
But if we deale with him in Normandy,
We shal receiue renowne and victorie.

It is the best, with forraine foes to fyght
Abroade, as did the haughtie Hannibal,
And not at home to feele their hatefull spight.
Of all the rest it is the greatest thrall,
That foes ariude should spoyle our subiectes all:
And for a truth this alwayes hath bin found,
He speedeth best which fightes on forrayne grounde.

My men of warre were mustered in hast.
But hast to late was then of none auayle,
The Duke ariude, he in my Realme was plaste,
He euery where my subiectes did assayle,
And euery where he caused them to quayle.
For which I bode hym battaile by and by,
Where equall warres gaue neither victorye.

For both our strengthes were weakned in such wise,
We both for breath to pause were wel content,
Euen then the Duke he wisely did deuise,
How here to yeeld my crowne I might be bent:
For whiche to me a Pursiphaunt he sent,
With letters, suche as here I shall recite,
Wherein he claimes the Brittayne Crowne his right.

William Duke of Normandie, and ryght heyre to the Englyshe Crowne, to Harolde the Vsurper.

Though birthright cannot cause thee yeeld to me my crown,
Yet haue thou some respect of honour and renowne,
For thou by oth didst sweare to yeeld to me my right,
When as I thee preferd, and stalde thee there by might.
Mine vncle Edwarde he, thy fathers faythfull freende
Gaue me his crowne, and thou thereto didst condescend,
Yet now thou wouldest fayne defeate me of my right,
And proue thy selfe forsworne of former promise plight.
Shall Harold haue his hest? shal Godwines sonne here guide?
Shall William want his wyl, and haue his ryght denide?
Wel Harolde, if thou canst with warres determine so,
I am content: if not, prouide, I am thy foe.
My sonnes and al my kinne shal neuer stint to striue,
To plucke thee from thy place, whilst one is left aliue:
But if thou wylt be wise, to me my right resigne,
And thou shalt haue the place belonging to thy line.
If not, with fyre and swoorde I meane thy Realme to spoyle,
I neuer hence wyll starte till I haue forst thy foyle.
And now thou knowste my wyl, determine for the best,
Thou maist haue warres, and if thou wylt, thou maist haue rest.

Willyam Duke of Normandy.

These letters were of little might, to make
My manly minde to graunt hym his request,
For which I did to Fortune me betake,
To wage new warres with hym I deemde it best,
So from his fist his threatning blade to wrest.
But see the force of Fortunes changing cheare,
An other cloude before me did appeare.

My brother Tosto who from me was flead,
Did now returne, and brought the Norway kyng:
They did deuise to haue from me my head,
Which made me to indite an other thing
Vnto the Duke, then playne and true meaning.
I gaue him hope of that I neuer meant,
These were the lines which to the Duke I sent.

Harolde the English king, to thee William Duke of Normandie.

Harold the English king, thee William Duke doth greete.
Thy letter being read, I haue not thought it meete,
Without a parliament to do so great a thing,
As of a forrayne Duke, to make an Englishe kyng.
But if my three estates will follow mine aduise,
Thou shalt receiue the crowne, and beare away the price.
Therfore delay a time, thou shortly shalt receiue
With full consent the thing, which now thou seekst to haue.

Harolde.

Then I in hast my power did prepare,
For why, I hearde my brother Tostoes trayne,
Two of my Earles by North he had destroyd,
And manye a thousand men he there had slayne:
But when we met, his triumphe was in vayne.
For I and myne the Norway king there kilte,
And I my selfe my brothers blood there spilte.

Now when the Duke my friendly lines had read,
And heard how I my men did muster newe,
There lies a Snake within this greene grasse bed
Quoth he, therefore come forth my warrelike crewe,
We will not staye to see what shall insue.
By long delayes, from Forrain coastes he may
Procure an ayde, to scourge vs with decay.

But when he heard with whom I had to deale,
Well donne (quoth he) let hym go beate the bushe,
I and my men to the lurche line will steale,
And plucke the Net euen at the present push,
And one of them we with decaye will crushe.
For he who doth the victor there remaine,
Shall neuer rest, till he hath dealt with twaine.

So I in vaine who had the victorie,
Within fewe dayes was forst againe to fight,
My strength halfe spoylde, the rest wounded and wearie,
His campe was comne vnwares within my sight,
There was no hope to flee by day nor night.
I Harolde then, a Haraude sent in haste,
To know whither the Duke his campe had plaste.

He sent me woorde, my yfs and ands were vaine,
And that he knewe the driftes of my delay,
For which he sayde he woulde yet once agayne
Make trial, who shoulde beare the crowne away.
If I would yeelde, he sayd his men should stay,
If not, he then was present presently,
To trye the cause by Mars his crueltie.

Which when I hearde, and sawe him march amayne,
His Trumpets did defy me to my face,
In hast I did appoynt my very trayne,
And souldier like I al my men did place,
I neuer sude, nor prayde, nor gapte for grace.
For hauing plaste my men in battayle ray,
Myne Ancient bearer did my armes display.

The battayle, vanard, and the rerewarde,
Were plaste in frunte, that men might fyght at wyll,
The forelorne hope of Bowmen I preparde,
In skirmishing who had the perfect skil.
With Arches eke I did the winges fulfyl,
To rescue them my men at armes were prest,
Then thus my speech amongst them I exprest.

My mates, in armes see here the last assault,
Winne now the fielde, and be you euer blest.
This Bastarde base borne Duke, shal he exalt
Him selfe so high? geue eare vnto my hest,
This day no doubt we shall haue quiet rest:
For good successe shal set vs free from feare,
Or hateful happe shal bring vs to our Beare.

Euen here at hand his power doth appeare,
March forth my men, we must no longer stay:
Let euery man abandon faynting feare,
And I as guyde wyl leade you on your way.
Euen I my selfe the formost in the fray,
Wyl teach you how you shal abate his pride.
Fight fight my men, Sainct George shalbe your guyde.

His Crosbowe men my Archers did assayle
With three to one, yet were they al to weake:
And when his forlorne hope could not preuayle,
Them to assist his Horsemen out did breake,
Three troopes I sent on them the wrath to wreake,
And by and by the battayles both did ioyne,
With many a thrust, and many a bloudie foyne.

Of three mayne battayles he his armie made,
I had but one, and one did deale with three:
Of which the first by me were quite dismayde,
The other two they did discomfort me,
Not yeelding, but in yeelding blowes wee bee
(With losse of life) constraynd at last to yeelde
The Crowne, the kingdome, and the foughten feelde.

Note now the lot which on my limmes did lyght,
Nine monthes no more, I wore the Englishe Crowne,
In Euery month I in the feelde did fight,
In euery fyght, I wonne a freshe renowne,
Yet at the last my strength was beaten downe,
And here before you, now I do protest,
I neuer had one day of quiet rest.

For fyrst with warre I wonne the Princely seate,
With ciuil strife I dayly was distrest,
My brother twise indeuorde to defeate
Me of my throne, the Norway king was prest,
The dreadful Danes they dayly mee distrest.
At last, this Duke did make me strike my sayle,
When winde, nor tide, nor Oars, myght preuayle.

My kingdome then was proude his lawful price,
With conquest he recouered his right,
And as you see of conquering the guise,
The Englishmen they were defaced quite,
Then of his trayne hee did prepare ech wyght.
And this was that which onely brought me blesse,
I did not liue to see this wretchednesse.

But woe to me which caused al this coyle,
I was an Earle my father being dead.
Why did my brest with scalding malice boyle,
To kepe the Crowne from the right heyers head?
O Fancye fonde, thy fuminges hath mee fed,
The stinking stinch of thyne inclined hest,
Hath poysoned al the vertues in my brest.

The ruthful roodes of proued euil successe,
Who hath sustaynde, that passing pinching payne,
That woful wight al wrapt in wretchednesse,
Can wel report mans fancye is but vayne,
That man doth know, by proofe he findes it playne,
That he who stoopes to fancies fond desires,
Doth grope for Grapes amidst the bramble briers.

Let no man thinke by fetches finely filde,
By double driftes conuayed cunningly,
To get or gayne by any craft or guile,
A good estate with long prosperitie.
His lust obtaynde, he liues in miserie,
His guilty ghost dooth see his plague appeare,
Who goeth straight he needeth not to feare.