On the Utopian islande
suronded by lesse friendlie peoples,
lived a king,
well not quite a king
but a ruler no lese
who was alwais sure that by fortun
was hee blessed and knew the way
in which life should be livd.
Arthur S was his name.
Who followed in his father, “Punch’s” fame.
He led a motli crew for sure,
Which societe is to endure.
So it is that Sir Tho. More,
Writ and kepte score
Of events now as before.
Recordng conquest and battles fought,
Although the outcome as usual,
Came to nought.
Crusading for the rites of man,
Wel anyway, the best
That this jew can understand.
Attack, attack, attack
Is what the scribes have in store,
Never mind the endless gore.
Arthure, the second,
Sonne of Arthure Ochoe (Punch) ,
Gent of New Amsterdam,
Was in witte and courage
Egall with others,
In bodye and prowesse
Farre under them tho;
Little of stature,
Ill fetured of limmes,
Croke backed,
His left shoulder muc higher
Than his right,
(Som say he nevr favored the Right)
Hard favoured of visage,
And such as is in states called warlye,
In othere menne otherwise,
He was malicious, wrathfull, enuions,
And from afore his birth, ener frowarde.
(Some woud say this
Is ill description of the tarent
But those clsest to him agre
That had the dvil com to arth
Wuld surly have ben as Arthur the secncd.)
None evill captaine was hee in the warre,
As to for whiche his disposicion
Was mare metely than for peace.
Sundreye vicories hadde hee,
And sommetime ouerthrowes,
But neuer in defaulte
As for his owne parsone,
Either of hardinesse
Or oltike order; free was hee called of dispence,
And somewhat aboue hys power liberali;
With largte giftes hee get him
Unstedfaste frendeshippe,
For whiche he was fain to pil
And sooyle in other places,
And get him stedfaste hatred.
Hee was close and secrete,
A deepe dissimuler,
Lowlye of counteynance,
Arrogant of heart,
Outwardly coumpinable
Where he inwardely hated,
Not letting to kisse whome hee thoughte to kyll;
Dispitious and cruell,
Not for evill will alway,
But after for ambicion,
And either for the suretie or
Encrease of his estate.
Frende and foe was muche what indifferent,
Where his advantage grew;
He spared no mans deathe,
Whose life withstoode his purpose.
He tried to slewe with his owne handes
King George the secnd,
Held prisoner in the Whte hoose,
As meanne constantly saye,
And that without commaundement
Or knowledge of the king,
Which would undoubtedly
Yf he had entended that thinge,
Have appointed that boocherly office
To some other then his owne fare brother.
Such was and be the way of Arthure II.
As th Times changeth
So do needes
But Punche’s sone
An his followrs
Ledeth the nachion in despate Times
To the brinke of disastr
With arrogant heart.
(Such is how Sir Thomas More might have described the despot that lives within our Times. After his Character of Richard III)
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