The Lamentation of Master Pages wife of Plymouth, who being enforced by her Parents to wed him against her will, did most wickedly consent to his murder, for the love of George Strangwidge; for which fact she suffered death at Barstable in Devonshire. Written with her own hand a little before her death.  
To the tune of Fortune my Foe.  


Unhappy she whom fortune hath forlorn,  
Despised of grace, that proffered grace did scorn:  
My lawless love that luckless wrought my woe,  
My discontent content did overthrow.   

My loathed life too late I do lament,  
My hateful deed with heart I do repent:  
A wife I was that wilful went awry,  
And for that fault am here prepared to die.   

In blooming years my father's greedy mind,  
Against my will a match for me did find:  
Great wealth there was, yea gold and money store,  
But yet my heart had chosen long before.   

My eye misliked my Father's liking quite:  
My heart did loath my Parents fond delight:  
My grieved mind and fancy told to me,  
That with his age my youth could not agree.   

On knees I craved they would not me constrain,  
With tears I cried their purpose to refrain:  
With sighs and sobs I did them often move,  
I might not wed whereas I could not love.   

But all in vain my speeches still I spent,  
My Fathers will my wishes did prevent:  
Though wealthy Page possessed nigh outward part,  
George Strangwidge still was lodged in my heart.   

I wedded was, but wrapped in all woe.  
Great discontents within my heart did grow,  
I loathed to live, yet lived in deadly strife,  
Because perforce I was made Pages wife.   

My chosen eyes could not his sight abide,  
My tender youth did scorn his aged side,  
Scant could I taste the meat whereon he fed,  
My legs did loath to lodge within his bed.   

'Cause knew I none I should despise him so,  
That such disdain within my mind did grow  
Save only this that fancy did me move,  
And told me still George Strangwidge was my love.   

But here began my downfall and decay,  
In mind I mused to make him strait away,  
I that became his discontonted wife,  
Contented was he should be rid of life.   

Me thinks that heaven cries vengeance for my fact,  
Me thinks the world condemns my monstrous act,  
Me thinks within, my conscience tells me true,  
That for that deed Hell fire is my due.   

My pensive life doth sorrow for my sin,  
For this offence my soul doth bleed within,  
Yet mercy Lord for mercy do I cry,  
Save thou my soul, and let my body dye.   

Well could I wish that Page enjoyed his life,  
So that he had some other to his wife,  
But never would I wish of low or high,  
A longer life, and see sweet Strangwidge die.   

Ah woe is me that had no better grace,  
To stay till he had run out Nature's race:  
My deed I rue, but more I do lament,  
That to the same my Strangwidge gave consent.   

You Parents fond that gréedy-minded be,  
And seek to graft upon a golden tree:  
Consider well, and rightful judges be,  
And give your doom 'twixt Parent's love and me.   

I was their child and bound for to obey,  
Yet not to wed where I no jove could lay:  
I married was to muck and endless strife,  
But faith before had made me Strangwidge wife.   

Ah wretched world which cankered rust doth blind,  
And cursed men that bear a greedy mind:  
And hapless I whom Parents did force so,  
To end my days in sorrow, shame and woe.   

You Devonshire Dames, and courteous Cornwall Knights,  
That here are come to visit woeful wights:  
Regard my grief, and mark my woeful end,  
And to your children be a better friend.   

And thou my dear which for my fault must dye,  
Be not afraid the fore of death to try,  
Like as we lived and loved together true,  
So both at once let's bid the world adieu.   

Ulalia thy friend doth take her last farewell,  
Whose soul with thine in heaven shall ever dwell,  
Sweet Saviour Christ do thou my soul receive,  
The world I do with all my heart forgive.   

And Parents now, whose mournful minds do show  
Your heart's disease and inward heavy woe:  
Mourn you no more, for hope my heart doth tell,  
Ere day be done, that I shall be full well.   

And Plymouth proud, I bid thee eke farewell,  
Take heed you wives, let not your hands rebel:  
And farewell life wherein such sorrow shows,  
And welcome grave which must my corpse enclose.   

And now sweet Lord forgive me my misdeeds,  
Repentance cries for soul that inward bleeds:  
My soul and body I commend to thee,  
That with thy blood from death redeemed it free.   

Lord bless our King with long and happy life,  
And send true love betwixt each Man and Wife:  
And give all Parents wisedovie to foresee,  
The match is marred where minds do not agree.    

The Lamentation of George Strangwidge, who for consenting to the death of Master Page of Plymouth, suffered death at Barstable.  

THe man that sighs and sorrows for his sin,  
The corpse which care and woe hath wrapped in,  
In doleful sort records his Swanlike Song,  
That waits for death, and loathes to live so long.   

O Glandfield, cause of my committed crime,  
Shared in wealth, as Birds in bush of lime:  
What cause hadst thou to bear such wicked spite  
Against my good, and eke my Love's delight?   

I would to God thy wisdom had been more,  
Or that I had not entered in thy door:  
Or that thou hadst a kinder Father been,  
Unto thy Child, whose years are yet but green:   

The match unmeet which thou for muck didst make,  
When aged Page thy Daughter home did take:  
Well mayst thou rue with tears that cannot dry,  
Which was the cause that four of us must dye.   

Ulalia fair, more bright than Summers' Sun,  
Whose beauty had my heart for ever won,  
My soul more sobs to think of thy disgrace,  
Than to behold mine own untimely race.   

The deed late done in heart I do lament,  
But that I loved, I cannot yet repent:  
Thy seemly sight was ever sweet to me,  
Would God my death would thy excuser be.   

It was for me (alas) thou didst the same,  
On me of right they ought to lay the blame:  
My worthless love hath brought my life in scorn,  
Now woe is me that ever I was borne.   

Farewell my love, whose loyal heart was seen,  
Would God thou hadst not half so constant been:  
Farewell my Love the pride of Plymouth Town,  
Farewell the Flower whose beauty is cut down.   

For twenty years great was the cost I know,  
Thy unkind Father did on thee bestow:  
Yet afterward so sore did fortune lower,  
He lost his joy and Child within an hour.   

My wrong and woe to God I do commit,  
His was the fault, by matching them unfit:  
And yet my guilt I cannot so excuse,  
I gave consent his life for to abuse.   

Wretch that I am that I consent did give,  
Had I denied, Ulalia still should live:  
Blind fancy said, her suit do not deny,  
Line thou in bliss, or else in sorrow die.   

O Lord forgive this cruel deed of mine,  
Upon my soul let beams of mercy shine:  
In Justice Lord do thou no vengeance take,  
Forgive us both for Jesus Christ his sake.   
FINIS.   

The Sorrowful complaint of Mistress Page, for causing her husband to be murdered, for the love of George Strangwidge, who were executed together.  

IF ever woe did touch a woman's heart,  
Or grief did gall for sin the inward part:  
My conscience then and heavy heart within,  
Can witness well my sorrow for my sin.   

When years were young my Father forced me wed,  
Against my will, where fancy was not led,  
I was content his pleasure to obey,  
Although my heart was linked another way.   

Great were the gifts they proffered to my sight,  
With wealth they thought to win me to delight:  
But gold nor gift my heart could not remove,  
For I was linked whereas I could not love.   

Me thought his sight was loathsome to my eye,  
My heart did grudge against him inwardly:  
This discontent did cause my deadly strife,  
And with his wealth I lived a loathsome life.   

My constant love was on young Strangwidge set,  
And woe to them that did our welfare let:  
His love to me so deep a root did take,  
I could have gone a begging for his sake.   

Wronged he was even through my Parents plain,  
Wronged he was through fond desire of gain,  
If faith and troth a perfect judge might be,  
I had been wife unto no man but he.   

Eternal God forgive my faithless deed,  
And grant all Maidens to take better heed,  
If I had constant been unto my friend,  
I had not matched to make so bad an end.   

But wanting grace, I sought my own decay,  
And was the cause to cast my friend away:  
And he in whom my earthly joys did lie,  
Through my amiss, a shameful death must die.   

Farewell sweet George, my loving faithful friend,  
Needs must I laud and love thee to the end,  
And albeit that Page possessed thy due,  
In sight of God thou wast my Husband true.   

My watery eyes unto the heavens I bend,  
Craving of Christ his mercy to extend:  
My bloody deed, O Lord, do me forgive,  
And let my soul within thy Kingdom live.   

Farewell false World, and friends that fickle be,  
All wife's farewell, example take by me:  
Let not the Devil to murder you entice:  
Seek to escape each soul and filthy vice.   

And now, O Christ, to thee I yield my breath,  
Strengthen my faith in bitter pangs of death.  
Forgive my faults and follies I thee pray,  
And with thy blood wash thou my sins away,   
FINIS.