The Gunne At The Courte. Poem by William Elderton

Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

The seventeen day of July last, as evening toward night,
Our noble queen Elizabeth, took barge for her delight:
And bad the watermen to row, her pleasure she might take
About the river to and fro, as much as they could make.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

And of her Council with her grace, were nobles two or three,
As fittest were to be in place, regarding their degree:
The French ambassador likewise, to common with her grace,
Of weighty causes sat with her, each one in comely place.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

But when her grace an hour or two, had past to take the air,
Returning reading on a book, she said row soft and fair:
Whereby as God the matter wrought, the slackness and the stay,
Softly she passed and nothing thought, of gunshot any way.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

But all this while upon the Thames, in a sculler's boat unknown,
A wretched fellow got a gun, that was none of his own:
And shot a bullet two or three, at random all about,
And gave no great regard to see, what time the queen went out.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

But as her grace came passing by, had given his piece a charge,
And there let out a bullet fly, that hit one in the barge:
A waterman through both his arms, as he began to row,
That he cried out upon his harms, whereat the queen was woe.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

Herself in sight and presence by, when that the bullet came,
She saw him hurt, she saw him fall, yet shrank not at the same:
Neither made she any fearful show, to seem to be dismayed,
Nor seemed to the ambassador in anything afraid.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

But having such a mighty mind, as passeth tongue to tell,
She stepped unto the wounded man, and bad him take it well:
His gushing blood could not abash, her noble courage then,
But she was readier to give help, than all the noble men.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

But what her highness said and did, in that so sudden fear,
Hereafter in my sorry tale, the substance you shall hear:
Let boats go out and fetch him in she said, that this hath done,
And quickly was the person brought, that so discharged the gun.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

The noble councillors most abroad, to whom these tidings came
Made haste to court with trembling hearts, to think upon the same:
Applauding God upon their knees, most humbly in their place,
With teares of joy that bitter bale, had so escaped her grace.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

His name was Thomas Appletree, of court a serving man,
Which was no little grief to see, to his good master than:
He was committed to the gaol, at councillors' grave regard,
That they might judge what vilest death, were fit for his reward.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

With blubbering tears it is no boot, to tell the weeping eyes,
That were full woe of such a shot, where all our safety lies:
The bullet came so near her grace, within six foot at least,
Was never such a cursed case, by such a wilful beast.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

Wherefore it was decreed and judged, by all the council grave,
That hanging was too good a death, for such a wretch to have:
A gibbet was set up in haste, against the court full nigh,
Where this unhappy Appletree, was 'pointed for to die.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

And on the Tuesday following, then this wicked prisoner came,
Well guarded with the marshal's men, to hang upon the same:
His master standing on the bank, to hear what he could say,
He humbly fell upon his knees, and mercy did him pray.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

Would God thou hadst never served me, quoth he with woeful look,
But God he said forgive it thee, that cursed mark thou took:
And after prayer said and done, on the ladder as he stood,
He took his death before them all, he was a subject good.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

And never meant to hurt her grace, nor any in the barge,
Nor meant to shoot in any place, to hurt with any charge:
But wished he never had been born, for his good master's sake,
Whom he had made a woeful man, and no amends could make.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

For troth it was and truth it is, the queen and council know
Not willingly, though wittingly, he let the bullet go:
Which the matter hath been sifted so, it moveth more her grace,
To let the passion of it go, the meeklier in his case.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

The queen that saw this sacrifice, a ready wretch to die,
Whose pity pleadeth pardon still, put forth her princely eye:
And sent the captain of her guard, a councillor grave and wise,
To make the favour made and known, as he could best devise.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

Who gave a thundering peal of grace, the prisoner's fault to show
And all the people in the place, what prince they had to know:
What courage in her noble grace in peril did appear,
Before the French ambassador's face, in such a sudden fear.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

And told again, if that mishap, had happened on her grace,
The stay of true religion, how perilous were the case:
Which might have turned to bloody wars, of strange and foreign foes,
Alas how had we been accursed, our comfort so to lose.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

Then of the mercy of her grace, her subject's life to save,
By whom these twenty years in peace, such quiet lives we have:
The tears fell down on every side, and aloud the people cry,
The Almighty long preserve her grace, to govern prosperously.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

And last of all he said again, mark yet this piteous queen,
For all this vile unhappy fact, so lewdly done and seen:
Returns to her inured course, of mercy to forgive,
That this accursed shall not die, but pardons him to live.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

And then to hear the people shout, and see them clapped their hands
Who would have torn his flesh before, being in hangman's hands:
To see the goodness of her grace, to such great pity bent,
It made the stoniest heart of all, astonied to lament.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

The councillor that the pardon brought, then kneeling on his knee,
And every subject as they ought, kneeled as well as he:
And said a prayer for her grace, upon the doleful ground,
Whereof the people's sighing sherls above the skies rebound.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.

All loving subjects learn to know, your duties to our queen,
By land and water where ye go, that no such deed be seen:
But pray to God that rules the sky, her highness to defend,
To reign with him perpetually, when her highness' life shall end.
Weepe, weepe, still I weepe, and shall do till I die:
To thinke upon the Gunne was shot, at Court so dangerouslie.