Great Britain -- History -- Poetry; Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Sources
By meanes whereof my subiectes did me hate,
And forrayne foes, to burne my realme were bolde:
With warre the _Danes_ did alter strayght the state:
First fortune did my common-weale vnfolde,
Then pestilence did make my courage colde:
And last of al, the dreadful diuelish _Danes_[1238]
Did make me pay them tribute for theyr paynes.
9.
Euen now the realme of _Englande_ dyd decaye:
For when the _Danes_ theyr tribute had consumde,
Forthwith they made vs greater summes to paye:
From ten to fifteene thousand they presumde
Of poundes to make vs pay, so I redeemde
With money bagges my careful common-wealth:[1239]
The onely meanes reserued for my health.
10.
When thus the wante of courage on my parte,
Had geuen my foes so sure footing[1240] here,
And when disease with her destroying darte,
Had wypte away my subiects euery where:
Euen then to late my wisemen did appeare,
Whom heretofore I alwayes did detest
Their counsayle graue, at last they thus exprest:
11.
“O _Egelrede_ the fruite of fearfulnesse,
Of riote thou the right reward dost reape:
But if thou wilt auoyde this wretchednesse,
Be wise, and looke about before you leape:
Of hateful happes you see a hidiouse heape
Before your face, therefore in time geue eare,
And wisely way the wordes which thou shalt heare.
12.
“That noble duke _Richarde_ of _Normandy_,
A sister hath, whom thee we wishe to wed,
By meanes whereof from this captiuity
We may be brought, and that without bloodshed:
For why these _Danes_, these _Normans_, so do dread,
That if from thence an ayde we can procure,
Thy foes no doubte can neuer long endure.
13.
“The mayd she may a prince’s fancye please,
Her brother is a man of greate renowne:
This way, O king, may make thy subiectes ease,
It may restore the freedome of thy crowne:
This onely way will force thy foes to frowne:[1241]
If thou thy crowne and common-weale dost loue,
Do thou the thing so much for thy behoue.”
14.
So by their meanes I maried the mayde,
She _Emma_ hight, the floure of _Normandie_,[1242]
Of whom I was so glad and wel apayde,
That al the world with my prosperitie
Could not compare: and in that iollitye
I did deuise by traynes of secrete treason,
To bring the _Danes_ to death, in a good season.
15.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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