Strange Histories OR, Songs and Sonnets, of kings Princes, Dukes, Lords, Ladies, Knights, and Gentlemen: And of certain Ladies that were Shepherds on Salisbury plain. Very pleasant either to be read or song, and a most excellent Warning for all estates.  
By Thomas Delone.  
Haud curo invidiam.  
At London printed by R. B. for W. Barley. and are to be sold at his Shop over against Cree-church near All-gate. 1612.   

THE TABLE  

Cant 1. A mournful Ditty on the death of fair Rosamond, King Henry the seconds Concubine.  
Cant 2. The kentishmen with long tails.  
Cant 3. Of King Henry the first, and his Children.  
Cant 4. The Duchess of Suffolk's calamity.  
Cant 5. King Edward the Second crowning his Son King of England.  
Cant 6. The imprisonment of Queen Elinor.  
Cant 7. The death of King john poisoned by a Friar.  
Cant 8. The imprisonment of King Edward the second.  
Cant 9 The murdering of King Edward the second, being killed with a hot burning Spit.  
Cant 10. The Lamentation of the Lord Matreuers, and sir Thomas Gurney, being banished the realm.  
Cant 11. A new Song of King Edgar.  
Cant 12. Of King Edward the third, and the Countess of Salisbury.  
Cant 13. The winning of the I'll of Man, by the Earl of Salisbury.  
Cant. 14. The Rebellion of Watte Tiler and jack Straw against King Richard the second.  
Cant 15. A Dialogue between Troilus and Cressida.  
Cant 16. A Maid in praise of her love.  
Cant 17. A Lover bewailing the absence of his love.  
Cant 18. A speech between Ladies being Shepherds on Salisbury plain.    


A mournful Ditty on the death of fair Rosamond, King Henry the seconds Concubine.  
Cant. 1.  
To the tune of Flying Fame.  

WHen as King Henry ruled this land,  
the second of that name,  
(Besides the Queen) he dearly loved  
a fair and princely Dame:  
Most peerless was her beauty found,  
Her favour and her face:  
A sweeter creature in this world,  
did never Prince embrace.   

Her crisped Locks, like threads of Gold,  
appeared to each man's sight:  
Her comely Eyes like orient Pearls,  
did cast a heavenly light:  
The Blood within her crystal Cheeks,  
did such a colour drive,  
As though the Lily and the Rose,  
for mastership did strive.   

Yea Rosamond, fair Rosamond,  
her name was called so.  
To whom Dame Elinor our Queen,  
was known a cruel foe:  
The King therefore for her defence,  
against the furious Queen,  
At Woodstock builded such a Bower,  
the like was never seen.   

Most curiously that Bower was built,  
of Stone and Timber strong:  
A hundred and fifty Doors,  
did to that Bower belong:  
And they so cunningly contrived  
with turnning round about,  
That none but with a Clew of Thread,  
could enter in or out.   

And for his Love and ladies sake  
that was so fair and Bright,  
The keeping of this Bower he gave  
unto a valiant Knight.  
But fortune that doth often frown,  
where she before did smile,  
The King's delight, the ladies joy.  
full soon she did beguile.   

For why, the kings ungracious son,  
whom he did high advance,  
Against his Father raised wars,  
within the Realm of France:  
But yet before our comely King  
the English land forsook,  
Of Rosamond his Lady fair,  
his fare well thus he took.   

My Rosamond, my only Rose,  
that pleaseth best mine eye:  
The fairest Rose in all the world,  
to feed my fantasy:  
The Flower of my affected heart,  
whose sweetness doth excel  
My royal Rose a hundred times,  
I bid thee now farewell.   

For I must leave my fairest Flower,  
my sweetest Rose a space,  
And cross the Seas to famous France,  
proud Rebels to abase:  
But yet my Rose be sure thou shalt  
my coming shortly see.  
And in my heart while hence I am,  
I'll bear my Rose with me.   

When Rosamond, that Lady bright,  
did hear the King say so,  
The sorrow of her grieved heart,  
her outward looks did show  
And from her clear and crystal eyes,  
the tears gushed out apace,  
Which like the silver pearled dew,  
ran down her comely face.   

Her lips like to a Coral red,  
did wax both wan and pale,  
And for the sorrow she conceived  
her vital spirits did fail,  
And falling down all in a sound,  
before King Henry's face,  
Full oft between his princely arms,  
her corpses he did embrace.   

And twenty times with watery eyes,  
he kissed her tender cheek,  
Until she had received again  
her senses mild and meek.  
Why grieves my Rose my sweetest Rose?  
(the King did ever say)  
Because (quoth she) to bloody wars  
my Lord must part away.   

But sith your Grace in foreign coasts,  
among your foes unkind,  
Must go to hazard life and limb,  
why should I stay behind?  
Nay rather let me like a Page  
your Shield and Target bear,  
That on my breast that blow may light,  
which should annoy you there.   

O let me in your royal Tent,  
prepare your Bed at night,  
And with sweet Baths refresh your Grace,  
at your return from fight,  
So I your presence may enjoy,  
no toil I must refuse:  
But wanting you my life is death,  
which doth true love abuse.   

Content thyself, my dearest friend,  
thy rest at home shall be:  
In England's sweet and pleasant soil,  
for travail fits not thee.  
Fair Ladies brook not bloody Wars,  
sweet Peace their pleasures breed,  
The nourisher of hearts content,  
which Fancy first doth feed.   

My Rose shall rest in Woodstock Bower,  
with Musics sweet delight,  
While I among the piercing Pikes,  
against my foes do fight,  
My Rose in Robes and Pearl of Gold,  
with Diamonds richly dight,  
Shall dance the galliards of my love,  
while I my foes do smite.   

And you sir Thomas whom I trust,  
to bear my loves defence,  
Be careful of my gallant Rose,  
when I am parted hence:  
The Flowers of my affected heart,  
whose sweetness doth excel,  
My royal Rose a hundred times,  
I bid thee now farewell.   

And at their parting well they might,  
in heart be grieved sore,  
After that day fair Rosamond  
the King did see no more:  
For when his Grace did pass the seas  
and into France was gone,  
Queen Elinor with envious heart,  
to Woodstock came anon.   

And forth she called this trusty Knight,  
which kept the curious Bower,  
Who with his Clew of twined Thread,  
came from that famous Flower.  
And when that they had wounded him,  
the Queen his Thread did get,  
And went where Lady Rosamond  
was like an Angel set.   

But when the Queen with steadfast eye,  
beheld her heavenly face,  
She was amazed in her mind,  
at her exceeding grace.  
Cast off from thee thy Robes (she said)  
that rich and costly be,  
And drink thou up this deadly draft  
which I have brought for thee,   

But presently upon her knees,  
sweet Rosamond did fall,  
And pardon of the Queen she craved,  
for her offences all.  
Take pity on my youthful years,  
(fair Rosamond did cry)  
And let me not with Poison strong,  
enforced be to die.   

I will renounce this sinful life,  
And in a Cloister bide:  
Or else be banished, if you please,  
to range the world so wide,  
And for the fault which I have done,  
though I was forced thereto:  
Preserve my life and punish me,  
as you think good to do.   

And with these words her lily hands,  
she wrongful often there:  
And down along her lovely cheeks,  
proceeded many a tear.  
But nothing could this furious Queen,  
therewith appeased be.  
The cup of deadly Poison filled,  
as she sat on her knee.   

She gave the comely Dame to drink,  
who took it in her hand  
And from her bended knee arose,  
and on her feet did stand:  
And casting up her eyes to heaven,  
she did for mercy call,  
And drinking up the Poison then,  
her life she lost withal.   

And when that Death through every limb,  
had done his greatest spite.  
Her chiefest foes did plain confess,  
she was a glorious wight,  
Her body than they did entomb,  
when life was fled away,  
At Godstow, near Oxford town,  
as may be seen this day.   
FINIS.   

The valiant courage and policy of the Kentishmen with long tails, whereby they kept their ancient Laws and Customs which William the Conqueror sought to take from them. Cant. 2.  
To the tune of Rogero.  

WHhen as the Duke of Normandy,  
with glistering Spear and Shield,  
Had entered into fair England,  
and told his foes in field:  
On Christmas day, in solemn sort,  
than was he crowned here,  
By Albert Archbishop of York,  
with many a noble Peer,   

Which being done he changed quite,  
the custom of the land.  
And punished such as daily sought,  
his Statutes to withstand:  
And many Cities he subdued:  
fair London with the rest:  
And Kent did still withstand his force,  
which did his Laws detest.   

To Dover than he took his way,  
the Castle down to fling,  
Which Arviragus builded there,  
the noble Britain King:  
Which when the brave Archbishop bold,  
of Canterbury, knew,  
The Abbot of S. Augustine's eke,  
with all their gallant crew.   

They set themselves in Armour bright,  
these mischiefs to prevent  
With all the Yeomen brave and bold,  
that were in fruitful Kent.  
At Canterbury they did meet,  
upon a certain day,  
With Sword and Spear, with Bill and Bow  
and stopped the Conqueror's way.   

Let us not live like Bond men poor,  
to Frenchmen in their pride:  
But keep our ancient liberty,  
what chance so ere betide:  
And rather die in bloody field,  
in manlike courage priest,  
Then to endure the servile yoke,  
which we so much detest.  
Thus did the Kentish Commons cry,  
unto their Leaders still:   

And so marched forth in warlike sort,  
and stood at Swanscombe hill.  
Where in the Woods they hid themselves,  
under the shady green:  
Thereby to get them vantage good,  
of all their foes unseen.   

And for the Conquerors coming there,  
they privily laid wait  
And thereby suddenly paid  
his lofty high conceit:  
For when they spied his approach,  
in place as they did stand,  
Then marched they to hem him in,  
each one a Bough in hand,   

So that unto the conquerors sight,  
amazed as he stood.  
They seemed to be a walking Grove,  
or else a moving Wood  
The shape of men he could not see,  
the Boughs did hide them so:  
And now his heart with fear did quake,  
to see a Forest go.   

Before, behind, and on each side,  
as he did cast his eye:  
He spied these Woods with sober pace,  
approach to him full nigh.  
But when the Kentishmen had thus  
enclosed the Conqueror round,  
Most suddenly they drew their swords,  
and threw their Boughs to ground.   

Their Banners they displayed in spite,  
their Trumpets sound a charge:  
Their rattling Drums strike up Alarume,  
their troops stretch out at large  
The Conqueror with all his train,  
were hereat sore aghast:  
And most in peril, when he thought  
all peril had been past.   

Unto the Kentishmen he sent,  
the cause to understand.  
For what intent, and for what cause,  
they took this War in hand?  
To whom they made this short reply,  
for liberty we fight:  
And to enjoy K. Edward's Laws,  
the which we hold our right.   

Then said the dreadful Conqueror,  
you shall have what you will:  
Your ancient Customs and your Laws,  
so that you will be still:  
And each thing else that you will crave,  
with reason at my hand:  
So you will but acknowledge me,  
chief King of fair England.   

The Kentishmen agreed hereon,  
and laid their Arms aside:  
And by this means, King Edward's Laws,  
in Kent, doth still abide:  
And in no place in England else,  
those Customs do remain,  
Which they by manly policy,  
did of Duke William gain.   
FINIS.   

How King Henry the first, had his Children drowned in the Sea, as they came out of France. Cant. 3.  
To the tune of the ladies daughter.  

AFter our royal King,  
had foiled his Foes in France,  
And spent the pleasant Spring,  
his Honour to advance:  
Into fair England he returned,  
with fame and victory:  
What time the subjects of this Land,  
received him joyfully.   

But at his home return,  
his children left he still  
In France, for to sojourn,  
to purchase learned skill.  
Duke William his brother dear,  
Lord Richard was his name,  
Which was the Earl of Chester then,  
who thirsted after fame.   

The King's fair Daughter eke,  
the Lady Mary bright.  
With divers noble Peers:  
and many a hardy Knight.  
All those were left together there,  
in pleasure and delight,  
When that our King to England came,  
after the bloody fight.   

But when fair Flora had,  
drawn forth her treasure dry,  
That Winter cold and sad,  
with hoary head drew nigh:  
Those Princes all with one consent,  
prepared all things meet,  
To pass the seas for fair England,  
whose sight to them was sweet.   

To England let us high,  
thus every one did say,  
For Christmas draweth me,  
no longer let us stay:  
But spend the merry Christmas time,  
within our Father's Court:  
Where Lady Pleasure doth attend,  
with many a Princely sport.   

To Sea those Princes went,  
fulfiled with mirth and joy:  
But this their merriment,  
did turn to dear annoy:  
The Sailors and the Shipmen all,  
through foul excess of Wine,  
Were so disguised that at the Sea,  
they showed themselves like Swine.   

The Stern no man could guide,  
the Master sleepeng lay:  
The Sailors all beside,  
went reeling every way:  
So that the Ship at random road,  
upon the foaming Flood:  
Whereby in peril of their lives,  
the Princes always stood.   

Which made distilling tears  
from their fair eyes to fall:  
Their hearts were filled with tears,  
no help they had at all:  
They wish themselves upon the land  
a thousand times, and more:  
And at the last they came in sight  
of England's pleasant shore.   

Then every one began,  
to turn their sighs to smiles:  
Their colours pale and wan,  
a cheerful look exiles:  
The Princely Lords most lovingly,  
their Ladies did embrace:  
For now in England shall we be,  
(quoth they) in little space.   

Take comfort now, they said,  
behold the Land at last;  
Then be no more dismayed,  
the worst is gone and passed.  
But while they did this joyful hope,  
with comfort entertain,  
The goodly Ship upon a Rock,  
on sunder burst in twain.   

With that a grievous shriek  
among them there was made,  
And every one did seek  
on something to be stayed:  
But all in vain such help they sought,  
the Ship so soon did sink,  
That in the Sea they were constrained,  
to take their latest drink.   

There might you see the Lords,  
and Ladies, for to lie,  
Amidst the salt Sea foam,  
with many a grievous cry:  
Still labouring for their lives defence,  
with stretched arms abroad  
And lifting up their little hands  
for help with one accord.   

But as good Fortune would,  
the sweet young Duke did get.  
Into the Cockboat then,  
where safely he did sit:  
But when he heard his Sister cry,  
the kings fair Daughter dear,  
He turned his Boat to take her in,  
whose death did draw so near,   

But while he strove to take,  
his sweet young Sister in,  
The rest such shift did make,  
in sea as they did swim,  
That to the Boat a number got,  
so many, as at last,  
The Boat and all that were therein,  
were drowned and overcast.   

Of Lords and Gentlemen,  
the ladies fair offace:  
Not one escaped then?  
which was a heavy case.  
Threescore and ten, were drowned in all  
and none escaped death,  
But one poor Butcher, which had swum  
himself quite out of breath.   

This was most heavy news,  
unto our comely King;  
Who did all Mirth refuse,  
this word when they did bring:  
For by this means no Child he had,  
his Kingdom to succeed▪  
Whereby his sister's Son was King,  
as you shall plainly read.    

The Duchess of Suffolk's calamity. Cant. 4.  
To the tune of Queen Dido.  

WHen God had taken (for our sin)  
that prudent Prince King Edward away  
Then bloody Bonner did begin  
his raging malice to be wray:  
All those that did the Gospel profess,  
He persecuted more or less.   

Thus when the Lord on us did lower,  
many in Prison did he throw,  
Tormenting them in Lolards Tower,  
whereby they might the truth forego.  
Then Granmer, Ridley, and the rest,  
Were burnt in fire, that Christ professed.   

Smithfield was then with Faggots filled,  
and many places more beside.  
At Coventrie was Sanders killed,  
at Gloucester eke good Hooper died:  
And to escape this bloody day,  
Beyond-seas many fled away.   

Among the rest that sought relief,  
and for their Faith in danger stood,  
Lady Elizabeth was chief,  
King Henry's daughter of Royal blood  
Which the Tower prisoner did lie,  
Looking each day when she should die.   

The Duchess of Suffolk seeing this,  
(whose life likewise the Tyrant sought,  
Who in the hope of heavenly bliss,  
which in God's word her comfort wrought,  
For fear of death, was fain to fly,  
And leave her House most secretly.   

That for the love of Christ alone,  
her Lands and Goods she left behind:  
Seeking still for precious Stone,  
the Word of truth, so rare to find:  
She with her Nurse, her Husband, and Child,  
In poor array their sights beguiled.   

Thus through London they passed along,  
each one did pass a several street.  
Thus all unknown, escaped wrong,  
at Billings gate they all did meet:  
Like people poor in Grave send Barge,  
They simply went with all their charge.   

And all along from Gravesend town,  
with easy journeys on foot they went,  
Unto the Sea-coast they came down,  
to pass the Seas was their intent:  
And God provided so that day,  
That they took Ship and sailed away.   

And with a prosperous gale of wind,  
in Flaunders safe they did arrive:  
This was to their great ease of mind,  
which from their hearts much woe did drive:  
And so (with thanks to God on high)  
They took their way to Germany.   

Thus as they traveild thus disguised,  
upon the high way suddenly,  
By cruel thieves they were surprised,  
assaulting their poor company:  
And all their Treasure and their store,  
They took away, and beat them sore.   

The Nurse in midst of their fight,  
laid down the child upon the ground,  
And ran away out of their sight,  
and never after that was found.  
Then did the Duchess make great moan  
With her good Husband all alone.   

The thieves had there their horses killed,  
and all their money quite had took:  
The pretty Baby almost spilled,  
was by their Nurse likewise forsook:  
And they far from their friends did stand,  
All succourless in a strange Land.   

The Skies likewise began to schoule,  
it hailed and rained in piteous sort?  
The way was long, and wondrous foul  
than may I now full well report.  
Their grief and sorrow was not small,  
When this unhappy chance did fall.   

Sometime the Duchess bore the child,  
as wet as ever she could be:  
And when the Lady kind and mild  
was weary, than the Child bore he:  
And thus they one another eased,  
And with their fortunes were well pleased.   

And after many weary steps,  
all wetshod both in dirt and mire,  
After much grief, their hearts yet leaps,  
for labour doth some rest require:  
A Town before them they did see.  
But lodged therein they could not be.   

From house to house they both did go,  
seeking where they that night might lie.  
But want of Money was their woe,  
and still the Babe with cold did cry,  
With cap and knee they curtsy make,  
But none on them would pity take,   

Lo here a Princess of great blood  
did pray a Peasant for relief,  
With tears bedeawed as she stood,  
yet few or none regards her grief  
Her speech they could not understand,  
But gave her a penny in her hand,  
When all in vain the pains was spent,  
and that they could not house-rome get,  
Into a Church-porch than they went,  
to stand out of the rain and wet.  
Then said the Duchess to her dear,  
Oh that we had some fire here.   

Then did her Husband so provide,  
that fire and coals he got with speed:  
She sat down by the fires side,  
to dress her Daughter that had need:  
And while she dressed it in her lap,  
Her Husband made the Infant Pap.   

A non the Sexton thither came,  
and finding them there by the fire,  
The drunken Knave all void of shame,  
to drive them out was his desire:  
And spurning forth this noble Dame,  
Her Husband's wrath it did inflame.   

And all in fury as he stood,  
he wrong the Keys out of his hand,  
And struck him so, that all of blood  
his head ran down where he did stand:  
Therefore the Sexton presently,  
For help and aid aloud did cry.   

Then came the Officers in haste,  
and took the Duchess and her Child,  
And with her Husband thus they passed,  
like Lambs beset with tigers wild:  
And to the Governor were they brought,  
who understood them not in aught.   

Then Master Bartue brave and bold,  
in Latin made a gallant speech,  
Which all their misery did unfold,  
and their high favour did beseech:  
With that a Doctor sitting by,  
Did know the Duchess presently.   

And thereupon arising strait,  
with mind abashed at this sight,  
Unto them all that there did weight,  
he thus broke forth in words aright  
Behold within your sight (quoth he)  
A Princess of most high degree.   

With that, the Governor and the rest,  
were all amazed the same to hear:  
And welcomed their newcome Guest,  
with reverence great, and princely cheer:  
And afterward conveyed they were  
Unto their friend, Prince Cassemeer.   

A Son she had in Germany,  
Peregrine Bartue called by name:  
Surnamed the good Lord Willughbie,  
of courage great and worthy fame:  
Her Daughter young, which with her went,  
Was afterward Countess of Kent.   

For when Queen Mary was deceased,  
the Duchess home returned again:  
Who was of sorrow quite released  
by Queen Elizabeth's happy reign  
For whose life and prosperity:  
We may praise God continually.   
FINIS.   

How King Henry the second crowning his Son King of England in his own life time, and was by him most grievously vexed with wars. Cant 5.  
To the tune of Wigmores' Galliard.  

YOu Parents whose affection fond,  
unto your Children doth appear:  
Mark well the story now in hand,  
wherein you shall great matters hear,  
And learn by this which shall be told,  
to hold your Children still in awe,  
Lest otherwise they prove too bold,  
and set not by your state a straw.   

King Henry, second of that name,  
for very love that he did bear  
Unto his Son, whose courteous fame  
did through the Land his credit rear:  
Did call the Prince upon a day,  
unto the Court in royal sort:  
Attired in most rich array,  
and there he made him Princely sport,   

And afterward he took in hand,  
for fear he should deceived be,  
To crown him King of fair England,  
while life possessed his Majesty.  
What time, the King in humble sort,  
like to a subject weighted then  
Upon his Son, and by report  
swore unto him, his noblemen.   

And by this means in England now  
two Kings at once together live:  
But Lordly rule will not allow  
in partnership their days to drive.  
The Son therefore ambitiously.  
doth seek to pull his Father down,  
By bloody war and subtlety,  
to take from him his Princely Crown.   

Sith I am King (thus did he say)  
why should I not both rule and reign.  
My heart disdains for to obey,  
yea all or nothing, will I gain.  
Hereon he raiseth Armies great,  
and draws a number to his part:  
His Father's force down right to beat,  
and with his Spear to pierce his heart   

In seven set Battles did he fight  
against his loving Father dear:  
To overthrow him in despite  
to win himself a Kingdom clear:  
But nought at all could he prevail,  
his Armies always had the worst:  
Such grief did then his heart assail,  
he thought himself of God accursed.   

And therefore falling wondrous sick,  
he humbly to his Father sent:  
The worm of Conscience did him prick,  
and his vile deeds he did lament:  
Requiring that his noble Grace,  
would now forgive all that was passed:  
And come to him, in heavy case,  
being at point to breathe his last:   

When this word came unto our King,  
the news did make him wondrous woe  
And unto him he sent his Ring,  
where he in parson would not go.  
Commend me to my Son, he said,  
so sick in bed as he doth lie:  
And tell him, I am well appaide,  
to hear he doth for mercy cry.   

The Lord forgive his foul offence,  
and I forgive them all, quoth he,  
His evil, with good, I'll recompense,  
bear him this message now from me  
When that the Prince did see the Ring  
he kissed it in joyful wise,  
And for his faults his hands did wring  
while bitter tears gushed from his eyes   

And to his Lords that stood him nigh,  
with feeble voice than did he call,  
Desiring them immediately  
to strip him from his garments all:  
Take off from me these Robes so rich,  
and lap me in a cloth of Hair:  
Quoth he, my grievous sins are such,  
Hell fires flame. I greatly fear.   

A Hempton Halter than he took,  
about his neck he put the same:  
And with a grievous piteous look,  
this speech unto them he did frame,  
You reverend Bishops more and less,  
pray for my Soul to God on high:  
For like a Thief (I do confess)  
I have deserved for to die.   

And therefore by this Halter here,  
I yield myself unto you all:  
A wretch unworthy to appear  
before my God Celestial:  
Wherefore within your Hempton Bed,  
all strewed with ashes as it is,  
Let me be laid when I am dead,  
and draw me there unto by this.   

Yea by this Halter strong and tough,  
drag forth my carcase to the same:  
Yet is that Couch not bad enough  
for my vile body wrapped in shame:  
And when you see me lie along,  
be powdered in ashes there,  
Say there is he that did such wrong  
unto his Father every where.   

And with that word, he breathed his last  
wherefore according to his mind,  
They drew him by the neck full fast,  
unto the place by him assigned:  
And afterward in solemn sort,  
at Rouen in France buried was he,  
Where many Princes did resort,  
to his most Royal obsequy.   
FINIS.   

The imprisonment of Queen Elinor, wife to King Henry the second, by whose means the King Sons so unnaturally rebelled against their Father, & of her lamentation, being xvi. years in Prison, whom her Son Richard when he came to be King, released: and how at her deliverance, she caused many Prisoners to be set at liberty. Cant. 6.  
To the tune of Come live with me, etc.  

THrice woe is me unhappy Queen,  
thus to offend my princely Lord:  
My foul offence to plain is seen,  
and of good People most abhorred:  
I do confess my fault it was,  
These bloody Wars came thus to pass.   

My jealous mind hath wrought my woe,  
let all good Ladies shun mistrust:  
My envy wrought my overthrow,  
and by my malice most unjust,  
My Sons did seek their Father's life,  
By bloody Wars and cruel strife.   

What more unkindness could be shown,  
to any Prince of high renown,  
Then by his Queen and love alone,  
to stand in danger of his Crown:  
For this offence most worthily,  
In doleful Prison do I lie.   

But that which most torments my mind,  
and makes my grievous heart complain  
Is for to think that most unkind,  
I brought myself in such disdain,  
That now the King cannot abide  
I should be lodged by his side.   

In doleful Prison I am cast,  
debarred of Princely company:  
The King's good will quite have I lost,  
and purchased nought but imfamie:  
And never must I see him more,  
Whose absence grieves my heart full sore.   

Full fifteen Winters have I been,  
imprisoned in the Dungeon deep,  
Whereby my joys are wasted clean,  
where my poor eyes have learned to weep,  
And never since I could attain,  
His Kingly love to me again.   

Too much in deed (I must confess)  
I did abuse his royal Grace,  
And by my great maliciousness,  
his wrong I wrought in euey place:  
And thus his love I turned to hate,  
Which I repent, but all too late.   

Sweet Rosamond that was so fair,  
out of her curious Bower I brought,  
A poisoned Cup I gave her there,  
whereby her death was quickly wrought,  
The which I did with all despite,  
Because she was the King's delight,   

Thus often did the Queen lament  
and she in prison long did lie,  
Her former deeds she did repent,  
with many a watery weeping eye:  
But at the last this news was spread,  
the King was on a sudden dead.   

But when she heard this tidings told,  
most bitterly she mourned then:  
Her woeful heart she did unfold,  
in sight of many Noble men.  
And her son Richard being King,  
from doleful Prison did her bring.   

Who set her for to rule the Land,  
while to jerusalem he went:  
And while she had this charge in hand,  
her care was great in government:  
And many a Prisoner then in hold,  
she set at large from irons cold.    

The lamentable death of king john, how he was poisoned in the Abbey of Swinested, by a Friar. Cant. 7.  
To the tune of Fortune.  

A Treacherous deed forthwith I shall you tell,  
Which on King john on a sudden fell:  
To Lincolnshire proceeding on his way,  
At Swinsted Abbey one whole night he lay.   

There did the King appose his welcome good,  
But much deceit lies under an Abbot's Hood.  
There did the King himself in safety think,  
But there the King received his latest drink.   

Great cheer they made unto his royal Grace,  
While he remained a guest within that place:  
But while they smiled and laughed in his sight,  
They wrought great treason shadowed with delight   

A flat fact Monk comes with a glozing tale,  
To give the King a Cup of spiced Ale  
A deadlier drought was never offered man:  
Yet this false Monk unto the King began.   

Which when the King (without mistrust) did see,  
He took the Cup of him most courageously:  
But while he held the poisoned cupe in hand,  
Our Noble King amazed much did stand.   

For casting down by chance his Princely eyes,  
On precious jewels which he had full nigh:  
He saw the colour of each Precious stone,  
Most strangely turn, and alter one by one.   

Their orient brightness, to a pale dead hue,  
Were changed quite, the cause no person knew:  
And such a sweat did over spread them all,  
And stood like dew which on fair flowers fall.   

And hereby was their precious natures tried,  
For Pretious-stones foul poison cannot bide,  
But through our King beheld their colour pale,  
Mistrusted not the poison in the Ale.   

For why, the Monk the taste before him took,  
(Nor knew the King how ill he did it brook)  
And therefore he a hearty draft did take,  
Which of his life a quick dispatch did make.   

Th'infectious drink fumed up into his head,  
And through the Veins in the heart it spread:  
Distempering the pure unspotted brain,  
That doth in man his memory maintain.   

Then felt the King an extreme grief to grow,  
Through all his entrails, being infected so:  
Whereby he knew through anguish which he felt  
The Monk with him most traitorously had dealt.   

The groans he gave did make all men to wonder '  
He cast as if his heart would burst in sunder:  
And still he called, while he thereon did think,  
For the false Monk which brought the deadly drink.   

And then his Lords went searching round about.  
In every place to find the Traitor out:  
At length they found him dead as any stone,  
Within a corner lying all alone.   

For having tasted of that poisoned Cup,  
Whereof our King the residue drunk up:  
The envious Monk himself to death did bring,  
That he thereby might kill our royal King,   

But when the King with (wonder) heard them tell,  
The Monks body did with poison swell:  
Why then my Lords, full quickly now (quoth he)  
A breatlesse King you shall among you see.   

Behold he said, My Veins in pieces crack:  
A grievous torment feel I in my back:  
And by this poison deadly and accursed,  
I feel my heart strings ready for to burst.   

With that his eyes did turn within his head:  
A pale dead colour through his face did spread:  
And lying gasping with a cold faint breath,  
The royal King was overcome by death.   

His mournful Lords which stood about him then,  
With all their force and troops of warlike men,  
To Worcester the Corpses they did convey:  
With drum and trumpet marching all the way.   

And in the fair Cathedral Church I find,  
They buried him according to their mind:  
Most pompeously best fitting for a King,  
Who were applauded greatly for this thing.    

The cruel imprisonment of King Edward the second, at the Castle of Barkeley the 22. of September. 1327. Cant. 8.  
To the tune of, Labandela shot.  

WHen Isabella fair England's Queen  
in woeful wars had victorious been:  
Our comely King, her husband dear,  
subdued by strength as did appear,  
By her was sent to prison strong,  
for having done his crountry wrong,  
In Barkeley Castle cast was he,  
denied of Royal dignity:  
Where he was kept in woeful wise,  
his Queen did him so much despise.   

There did he live in woeful state,  
such is a Woman's deadly hate;  
when fickle fancy follows change,  
and lustful thoughts delight to range,  
Lord Mortimer was so in mind,  
the kings sweet love was left behind:  
And none was known a greater foe,  
unto King Edward in his woe,  
Then Isabella his crowned Queen,  
as by the sequel shall be seen.   

While he in Prison poorly lay,  
a Parliament was held strait way:  
What time his foes appease did bring  
bills of complaint against the King,  
So that the Nobles of the Land,  
when they the matter throughtly scanned,  
Pronounced them these speeches plain,  
he was unworthy for to reign,  
Therefore they made a flat decree  
he should forthwith disposed be.   

And his Son Edward young of years  
was judged by the noble Peers  
Most meet to wear the Princely Crown,  
his Father being thus pulled down.  
Which words when as the Queen did hear,  
(dissemblingly, as did appear)  
She wept, she wailed, and wrong her hands,  
before the Lords whereas she stands,  
Which when the Prince her Son did see,  
he spoke these words most courteously.   

My sweet Queen Mother weep not so,  
think not your Son will seek your woe:  
Though English Lords choose me their King,  
my own dear Father yet living:  
Think not thereto I will consent,  
except my father be content,  
And with good will his Crown resign  
and grant it freely to be mine:  
Wherefore Queen mother think no ill  
in me, or them, for their good will.   

Then divers Lords without delay,  
went to the King whereas he lay,  
Declaring how the matter stood,  
and how the Peers did think it good  
To choose his Son, their King to be,  
if that he would thereto agree:  
For to resign the Princely Crown,  
and all the title of renown:  
If otherwise, they told him plain,  
a stranger should the same attain.   

This doleful tidings (most unkind)  
did sore afflict King Edward's mind,  
But when he saw no remedy,  
he did unto their wills agree:  
And bitterly he did lament,  
saying the Lord this Plague hath sent,  
For his offence and vanity,  
which he would suffer patiently:  
Beseeching all the Lords, at last.  
for to forgive him all was past,   

When thus he was deprived quite,  
of that which was his lawful right  
In Prison was he kept full close,  
without all pity or remorse:  
And those that showed him favour still,  
were taken from him with ill will  
Which when the Earl of Kent did hear,  
who was in blood to him full near,  
He did entreat most earnestly  
for his release and liberty.   

His words did much the Queen displease,  
who said he lived too much at ease,  
Unto the Bishop she did go,  
of Hereford, his deadly foe,  
And cruel Letters made him write  
unto his Keepers with despite,  
You are to kind to him quoth she.  
hence forth more straighter look you be:  
And in their wrighting subtly,  
they sent them word that he should die.   

The Lord Matreuers all dismayed,  
unto sir Thomas Gurney said,  
The Queen is much displeased quoth he,  
for Edward's too much liberty:  
And by her Letters doth bewray,  
that soon hest all be made away.  
'tis best (Sir Thomas then replied)  
the Queen's wish should not be denied:  
whereby we shall have her good will,  
and keep ourselves in credit still.    

How the King was poisoned, and yet he escaped: and afterward how when they saw thereby he was not dispatched of life they locked him in a most noisome filthy place, that with the stink thereof he might be choked: and when that prevailed not, how they thrust a hot burning Spit into his Fundament till they had burnt his Bowels within his Body, whereof he died. Cant. 9  
To the tune of, How can the Tree.  

THe King's cursed Keepers aiming at reward,  
hoping for favour of the furiours' Queen,  
On wretched Edward had they no regard.  
far from their hearts was mercy moved clean,  
Wherefore they mingle Poison with his meat,  
which made the man most fearful for to eat.   

For by the state he often times suspected,  
the venom couched in a dainty dish:  
Yet his fair Body was full sore infected,  
so ill they spiced both his Flesh and Fish,  
But his strong nature all their craft beguiles,  
the Poison breaking forth in Blains and Biles.   

An ugly scab ore-spreads his lily skin,  
foul Botches break upon his manly face,  
Thus sore without, and sorrowful within,  
the despised man doth live in woeful case,  
Like to a lazar did he then abide,  
that shows his sores a long the high ways side.   

But when this practice proved not to their mind  
and that they saw he lived in their despite:  
An other damned, device than did they find,  
by stinking savours for to choke him quite:  
In an odd corner did they lock him fast,  
hard by the which, their Carrion they did cast.   

The stink whereof might be compared wel-nie,  
to that foul Lake where cursed Sodom stood,  
That poisoned Birds which over it did fly,  
even by the savour of that filthy mud:  
Even so the smell of that corrupted Den,  
was able for to choke ten thousand men.   

But all in vain, it would not do (God wot)  
his good complexion still drove out the same:  
Like to the boiling of a seething Pot,  
that casts the scamme into the fiery flame,  
Thus still he lived, and living still they sought,  
his death, whose downfall was already wrought.   

Loathing his life, at last his Keepers came,  
into his Chamber in the dead of night,  
And without noise, they entered soon the same,  
with weapons drawn, & torches burning bright,  
Where the poor prisoner fast a sleep in bed,  
lay on his belly, nothing under's head.   

The which advantage, when the murderers saw,  
a heavy Table on him they did throw,  
Wherewith awaked his breath he scant could draw  
with weight thereof they kept him under so,  
And turning up the clothes above his hips,  
to hold his legs a couple quickly skips.   

Then came the Murderers one a horn had got,  
which far into his fundament down he thrust,  
An other with a Spit all burning hot,  
the same quite through the horn he strongly pushed  
Among his entrails in most cruel wise,  
forcing hereby most lamentable cries.   

And while within his body they did keep,  
the burning spit still rolling up and down,  
Most mournful the murdered man did weep.  
whose wailful noise waked many in the town  
Who guessing by his cries, his death drawn near,  
took great compassion on the noble peer.   

And at which bitter screek which did make,  
they prayed to God for to receive his soul:  
His ghastly groans enforced their hearts to ache,  
yet none durst go cause the Bell to toll.  
Ha me poor man, alack, alack he cried,  
and long it was before the time he died.   

Strong was his heart, and long it was God knows,  
ere it would stoop unto the stroke of Death:  
First was it wounded with a thousand woes,  
before he did resign his vital breath:  
And being murdered thus as you do hear,  
no outward hurt upon him did appear.   

This cruel murder being brought to pass  
the Lord Matreuers to the court did high:  
To show the Queen her will performed was.  
great recompense he thought to get thereby,  
But when the Queen the sequel understands,  
disembling she weeps and wrings her hands.   

Accursed traitor, hast thou slain (quoth she)  
my noble wedded Lord in such a sort,  
Shame and confusion ever light on thee,  
oh how I grieve to here this vile report:  
Hence cursed caitiff from my sight (she said)  
that hath of mea woeful widow made.   

Then all a bashed, Matrevers goes his way,  
the saddest man that ever life did bear:  
And to Sir Thomas Gurney did bewray,  
What bitter speech the Queen did give him there  
Then did the Queen outlaw them both together,  
and banished them fair England's bounds for ever.   

Thus the dissembling Queen did seek to hide,  
the heinous act by her own means effected:  
The knowledge of the deed she still denied,  
that she of murder might not be suspected:  
But yet for all the subtlety she wrought.  
the truth unto the world was after brought.   
FINIS.   

The doleful lamentation of the Lord Matreuers, and Sir Thomas Gurney, being banished the realm. Cant 9  
To the tune of Light of love.  

ALas that ever that day we did see,  
that false smiling fortune so sick should be,  
Our miseries are many, our woes without end:  
to purchase us favour we both did offend:  
Our deeds have deserved both sorrow and shame,  
but woe worth the persons procured the same,  
Alack, and alack, with grief may we cry,  
that ever we forced King Edward to die.  
The Bishop of Hereford, ill may he fare,  
he wrote us a letter rare  
To Kill princely Edward: fear not it is good,  
thus much by his letter we then understood,  
But cursed be the time that we took it in hand,  
to follow such council and wicked command,  
Alack and alack, with grief we may cry,  
that ever we forced King Edward to die,   

Forgive us sweet Saviour tha● damnable deed,  
which causeth with sorrow our hearts for to bleed  
And take compassion upon our distress,  
put far from thy presence our great wickedness  
With tears all bedewed for mercy we cry,  
and do not the penitent mercy deny.  
Alack, and alack, with grief we may say,  
that ever we made King Edward away.   

For this have we lost our goods and our land,  
our Castles and Towers so stately that stand:  
Our Ladies and babies are turned out of door,  
like comfortless caitiffs' both naked and poor,  
Both friendless and fatherless do they complain,  
for gone are their comforts that should them maintain  
Alack, and alack and alas may we cry,  
that ever we forced King Edward to die.  
& while they go wring their hands up & down:  
in seeking for succour from town to town  
All wrapped in wretchedness do we remain,  
tormented, perplexed in dolour and pain▪  
Despised, disdained and banished quite,  
the coast of our country so sweet to our sight,  
Alack, and alack alas may we cry,  
that ever we forced King Edward to die.  
them farewell fair England wherein we were borne  
our friends & our kindred will hold us in scorn,  
Our honours and dignities quite have we lost,  
both profit and pleasuere, our fortune hath crossed,  
Our parks and our chases our mansions so fair  
our gems and our jeuxels most precious and rare,  
Alack, and alack, and alas may we cry,  
that ever we forced King Edward to die.   

Then farewell dear Ladies and most loving wives  
might we mend your miseries with loss of our lives  
Then our silly children which begs at your hand  
in grief and calamities long should not stand:  
Nor yet in their Country despised should be,  
that lately was honoured of every degree,  
Alack, and alack, and alas we may cry.  
that ever we forced King Edward to die.   

In Country's unknown we range too and fro,  
cloying men's ears with report of our woe▪  
Our food is wild berries, green banks are our beds,  
the Trees serve for houses to cover our heads,  
Browne bread to our taste is dainty and sweet,  
our Drink is cold water took up at our feet:  
Alack, and alack, and alas we may cry.  
that ever we forced King Edward to die.   

Thus having long wandered in hunger and cold,  
despising lives safety most desperate and bold:  
Sir T. Gurney toward England doth go,  
for love of his Lady distressed with woe,  
Saying how happy and blessed were I,  
to see my sweet Children and wife ere I die:  
Alack, and alack and alas we may cry,  
that ever we forced King Edward to die.   

But three years after his woeful exile,  
behold how false fortune his thoughts doth beguile  
Coming toward England, was took by the way  
and least that he should the chief murderers bewray  
Commandment was sent by one called Lea.  
he should be beheaded forthwith on the Sea,  
Alack, and alack, and alas did he cry,  
that ever we forced King Edward to die,   

Thus was Sir Thomas dispatched of life,  
in coming to visit his sorrowful wife:  
Who was cut off from his wished desire,  
which he in his heart so much did require:  
And never his Lady again did he see,  
nor his poor children in their misery,  
Alack, and alack, and alas did he cry,  
that ever we forced King Edward to die.   

The Lord Matreuers (the Story doth tell)  
in Germany after long time did he devil,  
In secret manner for fear to be seen,  
by any persons that favoured the Queen:  
And there at last in great misery,  
he ended his life most penitently,  
Alack, and alack, and alas did he say,  
that ever we made King Edward away.    
FINIS.   

The second part of Strange Histories, or Songs and Sonnets.  

A new Song of King Eegar of England, how he was deprived of a Lady which he Loved by a Knight of his Court. Cant 10.  
To be sung in the old ancient sort: or else to the tune of Labandalashot.  

WHen as King Edgar did govern this land,  
a down, down, down, down down,  
And in the strength of his years did stand,  
call him a down a.  
Much praise was spread of a gallant Dame,  
which did through England carry fame,  
And she is a Lady of high degree,  
the Earl of Devonshire's daughter was she.   

The King which lately had buried the Queen,  
and that long time had a widower been,  
Hearing the praise of that gallant maid,  
upon her beauty his love he laid,  
And in his sighs he would often say,  
I will go send for that Lady gay,  
Yea I will send for that Lady bright,  
which is my treasure and hearts delight.   

Whose beauty like Phoebus' beams  
doth glister through all christian realms  
Then to himself he would reply,  
and say how fond a Prince am I,  
To cast my love so base and low:  
and on a Girl I do not know:  
King Edgar will his fancy frame,  
to love some princely peerless dame.   

The Daughter of some royal King.  
that may a worthy Dowry bring:  
Whose matchless beauty brought in place▪  
may Estrelds colour quite disgrace.  
But senseless man what do I mean,  
unto a broken Reed to lean,  
And what fond fury doth me move,  
thus to abase my dearest love.   

Whose visage graced with heavenly hue,  
doth Helen's honour quite subdue:  
The glory of her beauty's pride,  
sweet Estrelds' favour doth deride,  
Then pardon my unseemly speech,  
dear love and Lady I beseech.  
And I my thoughts henceforth will frame▪  
to spread the honour of thy name.   

Then unto him he called a Knight,  
which was most trusty in his sight:  
And unto him thus did he say,  
to Earl Orgarus go thy way:  
And ask for Estrild comely dame  
whose beauty runs so far by fame:  
And if thou find her comely grace,  
as fame hath spread in every place.   

Then tell her father she shall be,  
my crowned Queen if she agree:  
The Knight in message did proceed,  
and into Devonshire went with speed,  
But when he saw the Lady bright,  
he was so ravished at her sight:  
That nothing could his passions move,  
except he might obtain her love.   

And day and night while he there stayed,  
he courted still that gallant maid,  
And in his suit did show his skill,  
that at the length won her good will,  
Forgetting quite the duty tho,  
which he unto the King did owe:  
Then coming home unto his grace,  
he told him with dissembling face,   

That these reporters were too blame,  
that so advanced the maiden's name:  
For I assure your Grace quoth he,  
she is as other women be,  
Her beauty of such great report,  
no better than the common sort.  
And far unmeet in everything,  
to match with such a noble King.   

But though her face be nothing fair,  
yet sith she is her father's heir,  
Perhaps some Lord of high degree,  
would very glad her husband be:  
And if your Grace would give consent:  
I could myself be well content,  
The Damsel for my wife to take,  
for her great land and livings sake,   

The King whom thus he did deceive,  
incontinent did give him leave:  
For in that point he did not stand,  
for why he had no need of land.  
Then being glad he went his way,  
and wedded strait that Lady gay:  
The fairest creature bearing life,  
had this same Knight unto his wife.   

And by that match of high degree,  
an Earl soon after that was he:  
Ere they long time had married been:  
others that had her beauty seen:  
Her praise was spread both far and near  
the King thereof again did hear:  
Who then in heart did plainly prove,  
he was betrayed of his love.   

Though therewith he was vexed sore,  
yet seemed he not to grieve therefore:  
But kept his countenance good and kind,  
as though he bore no grudge in mind.  
But on a day it came to pass,  
when as the King full merry was:  
To Ethelwood in sport he said,  
I muse what cheer there should be made   

If to thy house I should resort  
a night or two for Princely sport:  
Hereat the Earl showed countenance glad  
though in his heart he was full sad,  
And said your Grace should welcome be,  
if so your grace would honour me.  
When as the day appointed was,  
before the King did thither pass.   

The Earl beforehand did prepare▪  
the Kings coming to declare:  
And with a countenance passing grim,  
he called his Lady unto him.  
Saying with sad and heavy cheer,  
I pray you when the King comes here,  
Sweet Lady if you tender me,  
let your attire but homely be.   

And wash not thou thy Angel's face,  
but do they beauty quite disgrace,  
And to my gesture so apply,  
that may seem loathsome in his eye,  
For if the King should here behold,  
thy glorious beauty so extolled:  
Then should my life soon shortened be,  
for my desert and treachery.   

When to thy father first I came,  
though I did not declare the same,  
Yet was put in trust to bring  
thee joyful tidings from the King.  
Who for thy glorious beauty seen,  
did think of thee to make his Queen,  
But when I had thy beauty found,  
thy beauty gave me such a wound.   

No rest or comfort could I take,  
till your sweet love my grief did slake:  
And thus though duty charged me,  
most faithful to our Lord to be,  
Yet love upon the other side,  
bad for myself I should provide:  
Then to my suit and service shown,  
at length I won thee for my own.   

And for your love in wedlock spent,  
your choice I need no whit repent,  
And since my grief I have expressed,  
sweet Lady grant me my request:  
Good words she gave with smiling cheer,  
musing at that, that she did hear:  
And casting many things in mind.  
great fault therewith she seemed to find.   

And in herself she thought it shame,  
to make that foul which God did frame:  
Most costly robes full rich therefore,  
in bravest sort that day she wore.  
And did all things that ere she might,  
to set her beauty forth to sight  
And her best skill in every thing,  
she showed to entertain the King.   

Whereby the King so snared was,  
that reason quite from him did pass:  
His heart by her was set on fire,  
he had to her a great desire,  
And for the looks he gave her then,  
for every one she sent him ten.  
Whereby the King perceived plain,  
his love and looks were not in vain.   

Upon a time it chanced so,  
the King he would a hunting go,  
And into Horse-wood he did ride,  
the Earl of Horse-wood by his side.  
And there the story telleth plain,  
that with a shaft the Earl was slain.  
And when that he had lost his life.  
the King soon after took his wife.   

And married her all shame to shun,  
by whom he did beget a son:  
Thus he which did the King deceive,  
did by desert his death receive.  
Then to conclude and make an end,  
be true and faithful to your friend.   
FINIS.   

Of Edward the third and the fair Countess of Salisbury, setting forth her constancy and endless glory. Cant. .11  

WHen King Edward the third did live,  
that valiant King:  
David of Scotland to rebel,  
did then begin.  
The town of Berwick suddenly  
from us he won:  
And burned Newcastle to the ground,  
thus strife begun.  
To Rooks borrow castle marched he then,  
And by the force of warlike men,  
besieged therein a gallant fair Lady,  
While that her husband was in France,  
His country's honour to advance,  
the noble and famous Earl of Salisbury.   

Brave Sir William Montague,  
road then in post,  
Who declared unto the King,  
the Scotchmans' host,  
Who like a Lion in a rage,  
did strait prepare.  
For to deliver that fair Lady  
from woeful care.  
But when the Scotchmen did hear say,  
Edward our king was come that day.  
they raised their siege and ran away with speed,  
So that when he did thither come,  
With warlike trumpets fife and drum,  
none but a gallant Lady did him grreete,   

Which when he did with greedy eyes,  
behold and see:  
Her peerless beauty strait enthralled,  
his Majesty.  
And ever the longer that he looked.  
the more he might,  
For in her only beauty was,  
his heart's delight,  
And humbly then upon her knee,  
She thanked his royal Majesty:  
that thus had driven danger from the gate,  
Lady (quoth he) stand up in peace,  
Although my war doth now increase,  
Lord keep quoth she all hurt from your annoy.   

Now is the King full sad in soul,  
and wot you why,  
All for the love of the fair countess,  
of Salisbury.  
She little knowing his cause of grief,  
doth come to see:  
Wherefore his highness sat alone,  
so heavily.  
I have been wronged fair dame quoth he,  
Since I came hither unto thee,  
now God forbid my Sovereign she said,  
If I were worthy for to know,  
The cause and ground of this your woe,  
it should be helped, if it do lie in me.   

Swear to perform thy words to me,  
thou Lady gay,  
To thee the sorrow of my heart▪  
I will be wray  
I swear by all the Saints in heaven,  
I will quoth she:  
And let my Lord have no mistrust,  
at all in me.  
Then take thyself aside he said,  
And say thy beauty hath betrayed,  
and wounded a king with thy bright shining eye,  
If thou do then some mercy show,  
Thou shalt expel a prince's woe,  
so shall I live or else in sorrow die.   

You have your wish my Sovereign Lord,  
effectually:  
Take all the love that I may give,  
your Majesty,  
But in thy beauty all my joys,  
have their abode:  
Take then my beauty from my face,  
my gracious Lord.  
Didst thou not swear to grant unto my will?  
All that I may I will fulfil.  
then for my love let thy true love be seen  
My Lord your speech I might reprove,  
You can not give to me your love  
for that alone belongs unto your Queen   

But I suppose your grace did this,  
only to try,  
Whether a wanton tale might tempt,  
dame Salisbury,  
Not from yourself therefore my liege,  
my steps do stray:  
But from your tempting wanton tale,  
I go my way.  
O turn again thou Lady bright,  
Come unto me my heart's delight,  
gone is the comfort of my pensive heart,  
Here comes the Earl of Warwick he,  
The father of this fair Lady,  
my mind to him I mean for to impart.   

Why is my Lord and sovereign King,  
so grieved in mind:  
Because that I have lost the thing,  
I cannot find:  
What thing is that my gracious Lord,  
which you have lost?  
It is my heart which is near dead,  
twixt fire and frost,  
Cursed be that frost, and fire too,  
Which causeth thus your highness woe,  
O Warwick thou dost wrong me wondrous sore,  
It is thy Daughter Noble Earl,  
That heavens bright lamp that peerless pearl,  
which kills my heart, yet do I her adore.   

If that be all my gracious king,  
that works your grief,  
I will persuade that scornful dame,  
to yield relief.  
Never shall she my daughter be,  
if she refuse,  
The love and favour of a King,  
may her excuse,  
Thus wily Warwick went his way.  
And quite contrary he did say,  
when as he did the beauteous Countess meet,  
Well met daughter dear quoth he:  
A message I must do to thee:  
our Royal king most kindly doth thee greet.   

The king will die lest thou to him,  
do grant thy love.  
To love the king my husband's love,  
I should remove  
It is true chastity to love,  
My daughter dear,  
But not true love so charitably,  
for to appear,  
His greatness may bear out the shame,  
But his Kingdom cannot buy out the blame,  
he craves thy love that may bereave thy life,  
It is my duty to urge thee this  
But not my honesty to yield I wis,  
I mean to die a true unspotted wife.   

Now hast thou spoke my daughter dear,  
as I would have:  
Chastity beareth a golden name,  
unto her grave.  
And when unto thy wedded Lord.  
thou prove untrue.  
Then let my bitter curses still,  
thy soul pursue.  
Then with a smiling cheer go thou,  
As right and reason doth allow.  
yet show the king thou bearest no strumpets mind  
I go dear father with a trice,  
And by a sleight of fine devise,  
I'll cause the King confess that I am kind.   

Here comes the Lady of my life,  
the King did say:  
My father bids me sovereign Lord,  
your will obey  
And I consent if you will grant▪  
one boon to me.  
I grant it thee my Lady fair,  
what ere it be:  
My husband is a live you know,  
First let me kill him ere I go,  
and at your command I will ever be,  
Thy husband now in France doth rest,  
No no, he lies within my breast,  
and being so nigh he will my falsehood see   

With that she started from the king,  
and took her knife,  
And desperately she sought to rid,  
herself of life:  
The king upstarted from his chair,  
her hand to stay:  
O noble king you have broke your word,  
with me this day:  
Thou shalt not do this deed quoth he,  
Then will I never lie with thee:  
no live thou still and let me bear the blame.  
Live thou in honour and high estate,  
With thy true Lord and wedded mate,  
I never will attempt this suit again.    

The winning of the I'll of Man, by the Noble Earl of Salisbury. Cant 12.  
To the tune of the Kings going to the Parliament.  

THe Noble Earl of Salisbury,  
With many a hardy knight,  
Most valiantly prepared himself,  
against the Scots to fight.  
With his Spear and his shield.  
making his proud foes for to yield,  
Fiercely on them all he ran,  
to drive them from the I'll of man  
Drums striking on a row,  
Trumpets sounding as they go,  
tan ta ra ra ra tan.   

Their silken Ensigns in the field,  
most gloriously were spread  
The Horsemen on their prancing Steeds  
struck many a Scotchman dead,  
The Browne-bils on their Corstlets' ring,  
the bowmen with the Gray-goose whing  
The lusty Lances the piercing Spear,  
the soft flesh of their foes do tear,  
Drums striking on a row.  
Trumpets sounding as they go,  
tan ta ra ra ra tan.   

The Battle was so fierce and hot,  
the Scots for fear did fly,  
And many a famous knight and Squire,  
in goerie blood did lie.  
Some thinking to escape away,  
did drown themselves within the sea,  
Some with many a bloody wound,  
lay gasping on the clayey ground:  
Drums striking on a row,  
Trumpets sounding as they go,  
tan ta ra ra ra tan.   

Thus after may a brave exploit,  
that day performed and done,  
The noble Earl of Salisbury,  
the I'll of Man had won,  
Returning then most gallantly,  
with honour fame, and victory,  
Like a Conqueror of fame,  
to Court this warlike Champion came,  
Drums striking on a row  
Trumpets sounding as they go,  
tan ta ra ra ra tan.   

Our King rejoicing at this act,  
incontinent decreed,  
To give the Eearle this pleasant I'll,  
for his most valiant deed,  
And forthwith did cause him than,  
for to be crowned King of Man,  
Earl of Salisbury.  
and King of Man by dignity.  
Drums striking on a row.  
Trumpets sounding as they go  
tan ta ra ra ra tan:   

Thus was the first King of Man,  
that ever bore that name,  
Knight of that princely garter blew,  
and order of great fame:  
Which brave King Edward did devise  
and with his person royally  
Knights of the Garter are they called;  
and eke at Windsor so installed,  
With princely royalty,  
great fame and dignity,  
this knighthood still is held.   
FINIS.   

Cant. 13. Of Venus and Adonis.  
To the tune of Crimson velvet.  

Venus' fair did ride,  
Silver Doves they drew her  
By the pleasant Lawns,  
ere the Sun did rise.  
Vesta's beauty rich,  
opened wide to view her:  
Philomela records  
pleasant harmony:  
Every Bird of spring,  
Cheerfully did sing:  
Papos Goddess they salute.  
Her loves Queen so fair,  
Had of mirth no care,  
for her son had made her mute:  
In her breast so tender,  
He a shaft did render,  
when her eyes beheld a boy:  
Adonis was he named,  
By his mother shamed,  
yet is he now Venus' joy,  
Him alone she meets.  
ready pre●● for hunting:  
Him she kindly greets,  
and his journey stays:  
Him she seeks to kiss,  
no devices wanting:  
Him her eyes still wooed,  
him her tongue still prays:  
He with blushing red,  
Hangeth down his head,  
not a kiss can he afford:  
His face he turned away,  
Silence said her nay▪  
still she wooed him for a word,  
Speak (she said) thou fairest,  
Beauty, thou impayrest,  
see me, I am pale and wan▪  
Lovers all adore me,  
I for love implore thee:  
crystal tears with that down ran.  
Him herewith she forced,  
for to sit down by her;  
She his neck embraced,  
gazing in his face:  
He like one transformed,  
stirred no look to eye her:  
Every Herb did woe him,  
growing in that place.  
Each Bird with ditty,  
Prayed him for pity,  
in behalf of Beauty's Queen,  
Water's gentle murmur  
Craved him to love his;  
yet no liking could be seen.  
Boy (she said) look on me,  
Still I gaze upon thee,  
speak I pray thee, my delight,  
Coldly he replied  
And in brief denied,  
to bestow on her a sight.  
I am now to young,  
to be won by Beauty:   

Tender are my years,  
I am yet a bud.  
Fair thou art (she said)  
than it is thy duty,  
Wert thou but a bloom,  
to effect my good:  
Every beauteous flower,  
Boasteth in my power  
Birds and beasts my laws effect.  
Myrrha thy fair Mother,  
Most of any other,  
did my lovely hests respect.  
Be with me delighted,  
Thou shalt be requited,  
every Nymph on thee shall tend:  
All the Gods shall love thee,  
Man shall not reprove thee,  
jove himself shall be thy friend.   

Wend then from me, Venus,  
I am not disposed;  
Thou wringest me too hard,  
pray thee let me go:  
Fie, what a pain it is,  
thus to be enclosed:  
If love begin with labour,  
it will end with woe,  
Kiss me, I will leave,  
Here a kiss receive,  
A short kiss I do it find.  
Wilt thou leave me so?  
Yet shalt thou not go,  
breathe once more thy balmy wind,  
It smelleth of the Mirth-tree,  
That to the world did bring thee,  
never was Perfume more sweet,  
When she had thus spoken,  
She gave him a token,  
and their naked bosoms meet   

Now (said he lets go:  
Hark the Hounds are crying,  
Grisly Boar is up,  
Huntsman follow fast,  
At the name of Boar,  
Venus seemed dying:  
Deadly colour pale,  
Roses over cast,  
Speak (said she) no more▪  
Of following the Boar,  
thouart unfit for such a chase:  
Course the fearful Hare,  
Venison do not spare,  
if thou wilt yield to Venus' Grace,  
Shun the Boar I pray thee.  
Else I still will stay thee  
herein he vowed, to please her mind,  
Then her arms enlarged,  
Loath she him discharged,  
forth she went as swift as wind.   

Thetis Phoebus' Steeds,  
in the West retained;  
Hunting sport was passed:  
she her Love did seek.  
Sight of him to soon,  
gentle Queen she gained:  
On the ground he lay,  
blood had left each cheek.  
For an orped Swine,  
Smit him in the groin,  
deadly wound his death did bring,  
Which when Venus found,  
She fell in a sound,  
and awaked her hands did wring.  
Nymphs and satires skipping,  
Came together tripping,  
Echo every cry expressed:  
Venus by her power,  
Turned him to a flower,  
which she weareth in her crest.    

The Rebellion of Wat Tyler and jack Straw: with others against K. Richard the second. Cant 13.  
To the tune of the Miller would a wooing ride.  
What Tyler is from darford 'gan,  
and with him many a proper man,  
And he a Captain is become,  
marching in field with Phife and Drum,  
jack Straw, an other in like case,  
from Essex flocks a mighty pace,  
Hob Carter with his strangling train,  
jack Shepara comes with him amain  
So doth Tom Miller in like sort,  
as if he meant to take some Fort:  
With Bows and Bills with Spear and Shield  
on Blackheath have they pitched their Field  
An hundred thousand in all  
whose forth is accounted small:  
And for King Richard did they send:  
much evil to him they did intend  
For the tax the which our king  
upon his Commons then did bring:  
And now because his royal Grace  
denied to come within their Chase,  
They spoiled South work round about  
and took the Marshals Prisoners out  
All those that in the King's bench lay,  
at liberty they set that day.  
And they marched with one consent,  
through London with a lewd intent,  
And for to fire their lewd desire,  
they set the Savoy all on fire,  
And for the hate that they did bear  
unto the duke of Lancastere.  
Therefore his house they burned quite:  
throuh envy malice and despite  
Then to the Temple did they turn:  
the Lawyeres Books they did burn:  
And spoiled their Lodgings one by one  
and all they could lay hand upon  
Then unto Smithfield did they high,  
to Saint jones Place that stands thereby,  
And set the same on fire flat.  
which burned seven days after that▪  
Unto the Tower of London then,  
fast trooped these rebellious men,  
And having entered soon the sams,  
with hideous cries and much shame,  
The grave Lord Chancellor thence they took,  
amazed with fearful piteous look,  
The Lord high Treasurer likewise they,  
took from that place that present day:  
And with their hooping loud and shrill  
struck off their heads on Tower-hill.  
Into the City came they then,  
like rude disordered frantic men.  
They robbed the Churches every where.  
and put the Priests in deadly fear.  
Into the Counters than they get,  
where men in prison lay for debt:  
They broke the doors and let them out  
and threw the Counter Books about.  
Tearing and spoiling them each one,  
and Records all they light upon  
The doors of Newgate broke they down,  
that Prisoners ran about the town:  
Forcing all the Smiths they meet,  
to knock the Irons from their feet,  
And then like Villains void of awe,  
following Wat Tylor and jack Straw.  
And though this outrage was not small,  
the King gave pardon to them all,  
So they would part home quietly:  
but they his pardon did defy  
And being all in Smithfield then.  
even threescore thousand fight men  
Which there Wat Tyler then did bring,  
of purpose for to meet our King.  
And therewithal his royal Grace,  
sent Sir john Newton to that place,  
Unto Wat Tyler willing him,  
to come and speak with our young King  
But the proud Rebel in despite,  
did pick a quarrel with the Knight.  
The Mayor of London being by.  
when he beheld this villainy,  
Unto Wat Tyler road he then,  
being in midst of all his men:  
Saying Traitor yield 'tis best,  
in the King's name I thee arrest,  
And there with to his Dagger start,  
and thrust the Rebel to the heart:  
Who falling dead unto the ground,  
the same did all the Host confound:  
And down they threw their weapons all:  
and humbly they for pardon call:  
Thus did that proud Rebellion cease,  
and after followed a joyful peace.  
FINIS.   

Cant 14. A lovers wonder.  

I Muse how I can live and lack my heart:  
Without my heart yet do I live, and love:  
Loving the wound that procureth my smart  
And heartless live in hopes forlorn be hoof,  
And on this hope, my hapless fancy feedeth,  
And with this wound my heartless body bleedeth.   

I muse how I can see and yet am blind:  
Blinded I am, yet see, and sigh to see,  
I sigh to see my Mistress so unkind,  
And see no means my sighing sore to free,  
Unkindly blindness thus doth aye dismay me,  
Since that untimely sight did first betray me.   

But when my sight shall see two hearts in one.  
Both link in love, to live in others breast.  
Then shall no wound procure my sighs of moan,  
But hearts return procure my happy rest:  
No blindness; sore, or sigh; no wound shall grieve me,  
But hope, and life, and love relieve me.   
FINIS.   

Cant 15. The Lover by gifts thinks to conquer Chastity, And with his gifts sends these verses to his Lady.  

WHat face so fair, that is not cracked with gold?  
What wit so worth, but hath in gold his wonder  
What learning, but with golden lines doth hold;  
What state so high, but gold will bring it under?  
What thought so sweet, but gold doth bitter season  
And what rule better, than a golden reason?   

The ground is fat, that yields a golden fruit:  
The study high, that fits the golden state:  
The labour sweet, that gets the golden suit:  
The love reckoning rich, that scorns the golden rate  
The love is sure, that golden hope doth hold,  
And rich again, that serves the God of Gold.   
FINIS.   

A new Dialogue between Troilus and Cressida. Cant 16.  
To the tune of, Lacaranto.  Troilus 
THere is no pleasure void of pain,  
fair Lady now I see:  
Fell Fortune doth my state disdain,  
the frowning fates agree,  
To banish my pleasure and that without measure, away  
That woe is me, that ever I see,  
This doleful dismal day.  Cressida 
What is the cause my Troilus true,  
of this thy inward smart?  
What motions do thy mind molest  
what pains do pierce thy heart?  
Then show I request thee, what grief doth molest thee so near:  
I am thy joy, thou prince of Troy,  
Thy love and Lady dear.  Troilus 
The greeks ●ue sent Embassads▪  
by means of father thine:  
To crave a pledge for prisoners,  
in most unhappy time,  
And as they demanded counsel hath granted even so:  
O grief to hear, my Lady dear,  
For Authenor must go.  Cressida 
Although the same accorded be,  
yet banished care away,  
For what the King commands we see,  
the subjects must obey.  
Then let it not grieve thee, but rather relieve thee from pain:  
Sith that I may in half a day,  
Come unto Troy again.  Troilus 
The nearer that thou shalt remain,  
the more 'twill breed my spite  
When I shall see an other obtain,  
the thing that is my right.  
The greeks will flatter, and tell thee much matter. and say:  
The town of troy they will destroy,  
Ere they depart away.  Cressida. 
You know the talk doth daily run,  
as likely it will be.  
While truce is held the greeks will come,  
with Trojans to agree:  
And they with Queen Helen will quickly be winding away  
Then presently my father and I.  
Will come to our friends in Troy,  Troilus. 
Now sith thy father Calcas hath,  
so foolishly lost his name:  
He dares no more approach the walls,  
of Troy for very shame,  
But he will think rather King Priam my father indeed  
Should him reward without regard,  
And give him a traitor's meed.  Cressida. 
In vain these words we do but waste,  
since so it is decreed:  
That Antenor must here be placed,  
and I for him proceed:  
What would you desire, your father a liar to be;  
Then show your mind what way could you find  
To hinder the greeks of me.  Troilus. 
Alas my love Cressida clear.  
you know you have my heart  
And if thou favourest me my dear,  
then let us both depart:  
In secret manner away we must wander, from Troy:  
For father's lie, I pass not a fly,  
So I may have my joy.  Cressida. 
Now God forbid my only Lord,  
thou shouldst us so defame:  
In such a sort to blemish and blot,  
our honour and our good name,  
The world will hereafter, declare Calcas daughter, untrue  
And they will say you ran away,  
For fear of the Grecian crew,  Troilus. 
What need you pass for people's report,  
or aught that they can say:  
So I may pass the time in sport,  
with thee my Lady gay.  
If Greekes should attain thee; they soon would constrain thee to yield:  
And Calcas he would sooner agree,  
For fear of their force in field.  Cressida. 
Nay rather mark my Troilus true.  
what means I mind to frame:  
How I may keep my promise due,  
and guard us both from blame.  
With Grecians together, I mean to ride thither but you:  
Ere five days twain shall see me again,  
As I am a Lady true.  Troilus. 
Alas my Love and Diamond dear,  
what ways could you devise:  
To blind their sights that be so clear,  
and wits that are so wise,  
If ten days they keep you, they will shame to seek you be sure:  
Then Troilus I in dolour must die,  
Past hope of any recure.  Cressida. 
He is not worthy for to have,  
a Lady to his love:  
That for her sake will not vouchsafe,  
some bitter pain to prove.  
If ten days absenting you cannot be willing to take:  
Then would you sure, small pains endure,  
for your false ladies sake.  Troilus. 
For ten days space to lose thy sight,  
would grieve my heartful sore,  
Yet for thy sake my Lady bright,  
I would bide ten times more.  
But thus much I fear me, the Greek will deceive thee, alone:  
Then Troilus he forgotten shall be,  
As one that had never been borne.  Cressida. 
It hen perceive thy Lady and love,  
thou doostfull sore mistrust:  
What do you think the greeks could move,  
to make me prove unjust?  
Nay then I desire the Gods with wild fire, and flame:  
Consume me may without delay,  
Or put me to greater shame.  Troilus. 
I do not think my jewel of joy,  
thou wouldst be found untrue:  
But at thy parting out of Troy,  
to give thee warning due,  
Remember thy promise, thy faith and assurance, to me:  
And thou shalt see, that I will be,  
As trusty a Knight to thee.  Cressida. 

The Sun shall want his burning arms,  
the Moon shall lose her light:  
And Simois with her silver streams,  
that runs through Troy so bite  
Shall backward be turning, where first it was springing again.  
Ere I to thee unfaithful will be,  
Or fail of my promise so plain.  
Another.  
And thus at last they parted both,  
unto their grief and pain,  
But Cressida she broke her oath,  
she never came again,  
But as she deserved, so God he rewarded her pride:  
For she full poor, from door to door,  
A loathsome Leper died.   

When Troilus did perceive and see,  
his Lady was untrue:  
And that she false rendered had,  
to diomed his due.  
With heart distressed, himself he addressed to fight:  
Through her disdain there was he slain,  
By fierce Achilles' might.   
FINIS.   

Cant 17. The Gentle woman's reply.  
BVshes have tops, but the Cedar higher,  
A hair casts shadow less than Pharaoh's tower:  
The sparks have heat but greater heat the fire:  
A Bee can sting, not like the Scorpion's power:  
Seas have main course, & floods have little springs fords,  
Rough are deep Seas, when smooth run shallow  
The lack makes noise before the Dial moves,  
The firmest Faith is still confirmed with words,  
The Turtles mourn in losing of their Loves,  
If hearts have ears and eyes than tongue to speak,  
They'll hear, and see, and say before they break.  
FINIS.   

Cant 18. The lovers thanks to his beloved, sent and enclosed in a Cockle shell.  
Sweet love, the sweet despoyles of sweetest hand  
Fair hand the fairest pledge of faithful heart  
True heart, whose truth yieldeth the truest band,  
Chief band (I say) that binds my chiefest part:  
My chiefest part wherein doth chiefly stand,  
Those secret joys which heaven to me imparts,  
Unite in one my state thus still to save,  
You have my thanks, let me your comfort have.  
FINIS.   

A new Sonnet made by a Maiden in praise of her Lover, in whose truth and constancy she doth triumph. Cant 19  
To the tune of Crimson Velvet.  

WElcome be the days,  
of my love and liking,  
Venus must I praise,  
for her favours shown,  
Where I set my heart,  
well it is rewarded:  
Never will I start,  
for I am his own,  
Like the Diamond pure so will I endure,  
never will I give, while that I do live  
from my love his proper right:  
Faithful shall he find me,  
As true love doth bind me,  
so my promise I have passed,  
What in words I vowed,  
In my heart, I allowed,  
be true while life doth last,  
If I do respect.  
favour and affection,  
Needs I must affect,  
such a proper man,  
If I weigh his wit,  
or his brave behaviour,  
Pallas seems to sit,  
all his deeds to scan,  
All the prudent sort, may full well report,  
what in him they do behold:  
Nature and the rest seated in his breast,  
all the graces crowned with gold,  
Troilus may be stained,  
Priamus ashamed,  
to behold his constancy:  
Many sitteth sorry,  
Only I may glory,  
of my happy destiny.   

If that Helen fair,  
for her wanton Paris:  
Did not travel spare,  
to possess his sight:  
Setting quite aside,  
both her fame and honour:  
For the beauty's pride,  
of that gallant knight.  
Bringing unto Troy, sorrow and annoy,  
by a long and weary war  
So that Priam's reed may well rue the dead:  
that did cause so great a jar.  
Well may I with pleasure,  
For my joyful treasure▪  
Suffer pains and hard distress,  
Seeing love and honour,  
Doth advance their banner,  
joyful of my good success.   

Flora sitteth sweet,  
in her gallant colour,  
Ready for to greet, Ceres doth present,  
gifts of store and plenty,  
Heart's ease and content.  
grant a blessed end  
All the Muses nine, with their music fine  
doth delight our sweet desire:  
Cupid he doth dance, fortune, fear and chance,  
doth his company repair,  
All the Gods together,  
Hand in hand comes thither,  
honouring our marriage day,  
Hymen standeth watching,  
For your happy matching;  
In her golden rich array.   

All you lovers true,  
show your joy and gladness,  
Take a pleasant view,  
of my sweet delight,  
In your dainty songs,  
sound my lovers peaises,  
Set aside the wrongs  
of each woeful wight.  
On your lively Lutes, show the brave disputes,  
that contented Lovers bind,  
Laud the faithful heart, that Will never start,  
gratify the gentle mind,  
Say that men are treasure,  
Say that men are pleasure,  
Say that men are women's joys  
wheresoe'er you move it,  
I myself will prove it:  
'Gainst the maids that are most coy.   

Venus' riding forth,  
valueing the worth,  
Of my peerless praise▪  
From her gallant Coach,  
suddenly she leapt:  
Sweetly to Paradise,  
Flowers fair of hue, pleasant as they grew,  
did she gather speedily:  
Roses white and red, which the spring had spread,  
on the branches frank and free,  
Garlands thereof making,  
gilly-flowers taking,  
to adorn my lovers head,  
Strewing herbs most dainty,  
Brought she also plenty,  
wherewithal the streets she spread.  
Well I may rejoice,  
and triumph in pleasure,  
Lifting up my voice,  
to the lofty skies:  
juno hath ordained,  
welfare to my fancy,  
My desire is gained,  
which may well suffice,  
maidens fair and free hearken unto me,  
love where you are loved again:  
Be not coy and nice, if that you be wise,  
mischief follows fond disdain,  
Try and prove your favours;  
Men of good behaviour,  
so will I for ever say,  
Such as do deceive you.  
Knaves they are I tell you,  
men they are not any way.    

A Lover bewailing the absence of his Love Cant 20.  
To the tune of Where is the life that late.  

YOu loving worms that linked be,  
in Cupid's clogging chain,  
Behold I poor and silly man,  
lie languishing in pain  
Come help with doleful tunes▪  
to wail my woeful state,  
And blame me not sith worthily,  
I curse my cruel Fate,  
Ah woe is me what hap,  
what hateful hap have I,  
Sith I am severed thus from her,  
that loves me tenderly.   

Dame fortune brought me to a stand,  
where I espied a Dame:  
That doth deserve to be beloved,  
the world will say the same,  
Whom when at first I saw,  
so well she pleased mine eye▪  
That fancy willed me yield myself,  
with her to live and die,  
And then the blinded boy,  
so graced me with his glee:  
That with a dart he wounded her,  
and forced her yield to me.   

Dame pleasure in a moment then,  
gave way to our repuest.  
And we enjoyed but ah not long,  
the thing which we liked best:  
For as the Summer's day,  
at length comes to an end,  
So he became our enemy,  
that whilom was our friend,  
The while that we possessed,  
our pastime was but small,  
For when I called for hippocras.  
the drawer brought me gall.   

God knows the grief my soul sustains,  
for her that is my dear:  
For since I saw my sweeting last,  
I think it twenty year,  
When I should walk abroad,  
to spend the lightsome day,  
Huge heaps of care molest my mind,  
for her that is away.  
When darksome night draws on,  
to bed with tears I go,  
And If I chance to sleep a while,  
it doubleth then my woe.   

Or when I walk I do perceive,  
my choice to be away:  
Remembering oft in folded arms,  
how we full sweetly lay,  
Then rush forth sighing sobs,  
then, then, renews my care:  
I toss and turn and tumble then,  
and madmen like I fare,  
No world, nor worldly things,  
my sorrows can appease:  
Until mine eyes shed streams of tears,  
and then I find some ease.   

Then rose I up as one forlorn,  
and leave my restless bed:  
A thousand fits of fancies then,  
torment my troubled head.  
Each morning do I pray,  
the Gods upon my knee,  
That I may never sheep again  
if fates would so decree:  
Then put I on my clothes,  
as one bereft of joy,  
And curse and ban most bitterly,  
the means of mine annoy.   

When I for sport should trudge abroad,  
the fearful Hare to trail:  
Which was sometime my most delight,  
then gi'en my senses fail.  
When I should eat or drink.  
my nature to sustain:  
The meat received will not digest,  
but turneth back again.  
Then think I in my mind,  
all hope of help is past.  
And oft I say unto myself,  
would God this were my last.   

You youthful lads that know not yet,  
the force of Cupid's dart;  
Beware and wise, retire in time,  
for fear of further harm,  
Consider well the end,  
before you ought begin:  
And then you may yourselves assure,  
to find no lack therein,  
Before you snared be,  
to fly you may be bold.  
But sure resistance will not serve,  
when once you are in hold.   

The valiant soldier when he doth,  
address him to the field:  
Doth rather wish with fame to die,  
then either fly or yield,  
Even so my faithful heart,  
doth sickness so detest.  
Live or die I will not change,  
while breath is in my breast.  
If I were sure to be  
of Gods and men accursed,  
Yet I will never change my choice,  
let fortune do her worst.   
FINIS.   

A Speech between certain Ladies being Shepherds on Salisbury plain.  
TRuly (said the Ladies) this was a most hardy and courageous Mayor, that durst in the midst of so mighty a multitude of his enemies, arrest so impudent and bold a Traitor, and kill him in the face of all his friends: which was a deed worthy to be had in everlasting memory, and highly to be rewarded Nor did his Majesty forget said the Lady Oxenbridge to dignify that brave man for his hardy deed for in remembrance of that admired exploit his Majesty made him knight & 5. Aldermen more of the city: ordaining also that in remembrance of Sir William Walworthes deed against Wat Tyler, that all the Mayors that are to succeed in his place should be knighted: and further he granted that there should be a Dagger added to the Arms of the city of London in the right quarter of the shield, for an augmentation of the Arms.  
You have told us (q. the Ladies) the end of Wat Tyler. But I pray you what became of jack Straw and the rest of that rebellious rout? I will show you (quoth she) jack Straw with the rest of that rude rabble, being in the end apprehended (as Rebels never flourish long) was at the last brought to be executed at London, where he confessed that their intent (was if they could have brought their most wild purpose to pass) to have murdered the King and his nobles, and to have destroyed (so near as they could) all the Gentility of the land, having especially vowed the death of all the Bishop's Abbots, and Monks: then to have enriched themselves: they determined to set London on fire, and to have taken spoil of that honourable city, but the gallows standing betwixt them and home, they were there trust up before they could effect any thing. And such ends (said the Ladies) send all Rebels, and especially the desperate Traitor, which at this present vexed the whole state.  
With that word one of their servants came running, saying, Madam, the Rebels are now marched out of Wiltshire & Hampshire, making hasty steps towards London, therefore now you need not fear to come home, and commit the flocks to their former keepers. The Ladies being joyful thereof appointed shortly after a banquet to be prepared, where they all met together again: by which time the King's power (having encountered the Rebels on Blackeheath) overthrew their power, where the Lord Awdly was taken and committed to Newgate from thence he was drawn to the tower-hill in a Coat of his own Arms painted upon a paper, reversed and all to torn, and there was he beheaded the 24. of Inn, & shortly after Thomas Flamocke and Michael joseph the Blackesmith were drawn hanged and qurtered after the manner of Traitors. But when the husbands to these fair Ladies came home and heard how their wives had dealt to save themselves in this dangerous time they could not choose but heartily laugh at the matter, saying that such shepherds never kept sheep upon Salisbury plain before.  
FINIS.