[Jennifer Reeser]

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On the Death of a Most Honorable Man, John Manwood,
Lord Chief Baron of the Queen’s Exchequer

The burglar’s nightmare, somber scourge of rakes,
Jove’s Hercules, the vulture of rough thieves,
Lies in an urn. Rejoice, you sons of crime.
Mourn, innocents, with wretched, hair-draped necks;
The court’s bright light, the pride of precedent,
Has died. Alas, great virtue fled with him
To Acheron’s worn shores. For all his virtue,
Show mercy, jealous men; don’t be too bold
With ash of one whose glances awed the mobs,
And so, as Pluto’s bloodless messengers
Assault you, may these bones find joyous rest
And fame outlast a marble tomb’s inscriptions.


(from the Latin of Christopher Marlowe)



In obitum honoratissmi viri Rogeri Manwood
Militis quaestorii reginalis Capitalis Baronis
Noctivagi terror, ganeonis triste flagellum,
Et Jovis Alcides, rigido vulturque latroni,
Urna subtegitur. Scelerum gaudete nepotes.
Insons, luctifica sparsis cervice capillis
Plange; fori lumen, venerandae gloria legis,
Occidit: heu, secum effetas Acherontis ad oras
Multa abiit virtus. Pro tot virtutibus uni,
Livor, parce viro; non audacissimus esto
Illius in cineres, cuius tot milia vultus
Mortalium attonuit: sic cum te nuntia Ditis
Vulneret exanguis, felicter ossa quiescant,
Famaque marmorei superset monumenta sepulchri.


From Christopher Marlowe: Complete Plays and Poems (Pendry & Maxwell, ed.) Everyman, London 1976

The terror of the night-prowler, the grim scourge of the profligate, Jove’s Hercules, a vulture to the rough highwayman, lies within an urn. Rejoice, you sons of crime; you who are innocent, mourn, with hair flowing over your pitiful neck; the light of the courts, the glory of the venerable law, is dead. Alas, much virtue has departed with him to the unfruitful shores of Acheron. Because of his many virtues, Envy, spare this man alone. Do not vent your insolence on the ashes of him whose countenance awed so many thousands of mortals. So may your bones lie happily at rest, and may your fame outlives memorials on your marble tomb, when the bloodless messenger of Pluto wounds you.


Note: Manwood presided over Marlowe’s trial for murder.