A new Ballad, showing how a Prince of England loved the King's Daughter of France, and how the Prince was disasterously slain, and how the aforesaid Princess was ●●terwards Marr●ed to a Forester.  
The tune is, Crimson Velvet.  


HENRY THE 5 KING OF FRANCE AND POLE.   portrait of King Henry V  
IN the days of Old  
when fair France did flourish,  
Stories plainly told,  
Lovers felt annoy:  
The King a daughter had,  
beauteous, fair, and lovely,  
Which made her father glad,  
she was his only joy.  
A Prince of England came,  
Whose deeds did merit fame,  
he wooed her long and lo at last,  
Look what he did require,  
She granted his desire,  
their hearts in one were linked fast  
Which when her Father proved,  
Lord how he was moved,  
and tormented in his mind;  
He sought for to prevent them,  
And to discontent them,  
Fortune crossed Lovers kind.  
When as these Princes twain,  
were thus barred of pleasure,  
Through the King's disdain,  
which their joys withstood:  
The Lady locked up close,  
her jewels and her Treasure,  
Having no remorse  
of state or Royal blood;  
In homely poor array,  
She went from Court away,  
to meet her love and hearts delight  
Who in a forest great,  
Had taken up his Seat,  
to wait her coming in the night.  
But lo what sudden danger,  
To this Princely stranger,  
chanced as he sat alone;  
By outlaws he was Robbed,  
And with Poniard stabbed,  
uttering many a dying groan.  
The Princess arrived by him,  
and by true desire,  
wandering all that night,  
without dread at all:  
Still unknown she passed,  
in her strange attire,  
Coming at the last,  
within an echoes call.  
You fair wood, quoth she,  
Honoured may you be,  
harbouring my heart's delight:  
Which doth encompass here,  
My joy and only dear,  
my trusty friend, & comely Knight  
Sweet I come unto thee,  
Sweet I come to woo thee,  
that thou mayst not angry be,  
For my long delaying,  
And thy courteous staying,  
amends for all I'll make to thee:  
Passing thus along,  
through the silent Forest  
Many a grievous groan  
sounded in her ear:  
Where she heard a man  
to lament the forest  
Chance that ever came  
Forced by deadly strife.  
Farewell my dear, quoth he,  
Whom I shall never see,  
for why my life is at an end.  
For thy sweet sake I die,  
Through villain's cruelty,  
to show I am a faithful friend.  
Here lie I a-bléeding,  
While my thoughts are feeding,  
on the rarest beauty found.  
O hard hap that may be,  
Little knows my Lady,  
my heart blood lies on the ground.  
With that he gives a groan,  
that did break asunder,  
All the tender strings  
of his gentle heart:  
She who knew his voice  
at his tale did wonder,  
All her former joys  
did to grief convert:  
Straight she run to see,  
Who this man should be,  
that so like her love did speak,  
And found when as she came,  
Her lovely Lord lay slain,  
Smeared in blood which life did break  
Which when that she espied,  
Lord how she cried,  
her sorrows could not counted be.  
Her eyes like fountains running,  
While she cried out my darling,  
would God that I had dy'd for thee.  
His pale lips alas,  
twenty times she kissed,  
And his face did wash  
with her brinish tears:  
Every bleeding wound  
her fair face bedewed,  
Wiping off the blood,  
with her golden hair.  
Speak my love, quoth she,  
Speak fair Prince to me,  
one sweet word of comfort give,  
Lift up thy fair eyes,  
Listen to my cries,  
think in what great grief I live,  
All in vain she sued,  
All in vain she wooed,  
the Prince's life was fled and gone  
There stood she still mourning,  
Till the Suns approaching,  
and bright day was coming on.   

The second part to the same Tune.  
 
IN this great distress,  
quoth this Royal Lady,  
Who can now express  
what will become of me?  
To my father's Court,  
never will I wander,  
But some service seek,  
where I may placed be.  
Whilst she thus made her moan,  
Weeping all alone,  
in this deep and deadly fear:  
A forester all in green,  
Most comely to be seen,  
ranging the wood did find her there  
Round beset with sorrow,  
Maid, quoth he, good morrow,  
what hard hap hath brought you here?  
Harder hap did never  
Chance to a Maiden ever,  
here lies slain my brother dear.  
Where might I be placed,  
gentle forester tell me:  
Where might I procure  
a service in my need?  
Pains will I not spare,  
but will do my duty,  
Ease me of my care,  
help my extreme need.  
The forester all amazed,  
On her beauty gazed,  
till his heart was set on fire:  
If fair Maid, quoth he,  
You will go with me,  
you shall have your hearts desire,  
He brought her to his Mother,  
And above all other,  
he set forth this maiden's praise.  
Long was his heart inflamed,  
At length her love he gained,  
so fortune did his glory raise.  
Thus unknown he matched,  
with the King's fair daughter,  
Children seven he had  
Ere she to him was known.  
But when he understood  
she was a Royal Princess,  
By this means at last  
he showed forth her fame:  
He clothed his Children then,  
Not like to other men,  
in party colours strange to see,  
The right side cloth of gold,  
The left side to behold,  
of woollen cloth still framed he.  
Men thereat did wonder,  
Golden Fame did thunder  
this strange deed in every place.  
The King of France came thither  
Being pleasant weather,  
in these Woods the Hart to chase.  
The Children there did stand,  
as their Mother willed,  
Where the Royal King  
must of force come by.  
Their Mother richly clad  
in fair Crimson Velvet,  
Their Father all in grey,  
most comely to the eye.  
When this famous King  
Noting every thing,  
did ask how he durst be so bold,  
To let his wife to wear,  
And deck his Children there,  
in costly robes of Pearl and gold.  
The forester bold replied,  
And the cause descried;  
and to the King he thus did say:  
Well may they by their Mother  
Wear rich clothes with other,  
being by birth a Princess born.  
The King upon these words  
more heedfully beheld them;  
Till a Crimson blush  
his conceit did cross:  
The more I look, quoth he  
upon thy Wife and Children,  
The more I call to mind  
that daughter whom I lost:  
I am that Child, quoth she  
Falling on her knee,  
pardon me my sovereign Liege:  
The King perceiving this,  
His Daughter deer did kiss;  
till joyful tears did stop his speech.  
With his train he turned  
And with her sojourned;  
straight he dubed her husband Kt.  
He made him Earl of Flanders  
One of his chief Commanders:  
thus was their sorrows put to flight    

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.