"Content thy self, my dearest love; Thy rest at home shall bee In Englandes sweet and pleasant isle; For travell fits not thee. Faire ladies brooke not bloodye warres; Soft peace their sexe delights; Not rugged campes, but courtlye bowers; Gay feastes, not cruell fights.' My Rose shall safely here abide, With musicke passe the daye; Whilst I, amonge the piercing pikes, My foes seeke far awaye. My Rose shall shine in pearle, and golde, Whilst Ime in armour dighte; Gay galliards here my love shall dance, Whilst I my foes goe fighte. And you, Sir Thomas, whom I truste To bee my loves defence; Be careful of my gallant Rose When I am parted hence." And therewithall he fetcht a sigh, As though his heart would breake: And Rosamonde, for very grief, Not one plaine word could speake. And at their parting well they mighte In heart be grieved sore: After that daye faire Rosamonde The king did see no more. For when his grace had past the seas, And into France was gone; With envious heart, Queene Ellinor, To Woodstocke came anone. And forth she calls this trustye knighte, In an unhappy houre; Who with his clue of twined thread, Came from this famous bower. And when that they had wounded him, The queene this thread did gette, And went where Ladye Rosamonde Was like an angell sette. But when the queene with stedfast eye Beheld her beauteous face, She was amazed in her minde At her exceeding grace. Cast off from thee those robes, she said, That riche and costlye bee; And drinke thou up this deadlye draught, Which I have brought to thee. Then presentlye upon her knees Sweet Rosamonde did fall; And pardon of the queene she crav'd For her offences all. "Take pitty on my youthfull yeares," Faire Rosamonde did crye; "And lett mee not with poison stronge Enforced bee to dye. I will renounce my sinfull life, And in some cloyster bide; Or else be banisht, if you please, To range the world soe wide. And for the fault which I have done, Though I was forc'd thereto, Preserve my life, and punish mee As you thinke meet to doe." And with these words, her lillie handes She wrunge full often there; And downe along her lovely face Did trickle many a teare. But nothing could this furious queene Therewith appeased bee; The cup of deadlye poyson stronge, As she knelt on her knee, Shee gave this comelye dame to drinke; Who tooke it in her hand, And from her bended knee arose, And on her feet did stand: And casting up her eyes to heaven, She did for mercye calle; And drinking up the poison stronge, Her life she lost withalle. And when that death through everye limbe Had showde its greatest spite, Her chiefest foes did plaine confesse Shee was a glorious wight.