An excellent Ballad of George Barnwel an Apprentice of London, who was undone by a strumpet, who having thric● robbed his Master, and murdered his uncle in Ludlow.  
The tune is, The Merchant.  
ALL youths of fair England,  
that dwell both far and near  
Regard my story that I tell,  
and to my Song give ear;  
A London Lad I was,  
a merchant's Prentice bound,  
My name George Barnwel that did spend  
my Master many a pound,  
Lake heed of Harlots then  
and their enticing trains;  
For by that means I have been brought  
to hang alive in Chains.  
As I upon a day  
was walking through the street,  
About my Master's business,  
I did a woman meet;  
A gallant dainty Dame  
and sumptuous in attire,  
With smiling looks she gréeted me  
and did my name require.  
Which when I had declared  
the gave me then a kiss,  
And said if I would come to her,  
I should have more than this,  
Infaith my Boy (quoth she)  
such news I can thee tell,  
As shall rejoice thy very heart,  
then come where I do dwell,  
Fa●r Mistress then said I,  
if I the place may know,  
This evening I will be with you,  
for I abroad must go.  
To gather money in;  
that is my Master's due,  
And ere that I do home return,  
I'll come and visit you.  
Good Barnwel then (quoth she)  
do thou to Shoreditch come,  
And ask for Mis. Milwood there  
next door unto the Gun.  
And trust me on my truth,  
if thou keep touch with me  
For thy friend's sake as my own heart  
thou shalt right welcome be.  
Thus parted we in peace,  
and home I passed right,  
Then went abroad and gathered in  
by six a clock at night,  
An undred pounds and one,  
with bag under mine arm,  
I went to Mis. Milwoods' house  
and thought on little harm.  
And knocking at the door  
straight way herself came down.  
Rustling in most brave attire,  
her Hood and silken Gown.  
Who though her beauty bright,  
so gloriously did shine.  
That she amazed my dazzling eyes,  
she seemed so Divine.  
She took me by the hand,  
and with a modest grace,  
Welcome sweet Barnwel then (qd. she)  
unto this homely place,  
Welcome ten thousand times  
more welcome than m● brother▪  
And better welcome I protest  
then any one or other:  
And seeing I have thee found,  
as good as thy word to be,  
A homely supper ere thou part  
thou shalt take here with me,  
O pardon me quoth I,  
fair Mistress I you pray,  
For why, out of my Master's house  
so long I dare not stay.  
Alas good Sir she said,  
art thou so strictly tied,  
You may not with your dearest friend  
one hour or two abide:  
Faith then the case is hard  
if it be so (quoth she)  
I would I were a Prentice bound  
to live in house with thee.  
Therefore my sweetest George,  
list well what I do say,  
And do not blame a woman much  
her fancy to bewray.  
Let not affections force  
be counted lewd desire,  
Nor think it not immodesty  
I would thy love require.  
With that she turned aside  
and with a blushing red,  
A mournful motion she bewrayed,  
by holding down her head:  
A Hankerchiffe she had  
all wrought with silk and gold,  
Which she to stop her trickling tears  
against her eyes did hold.  
This thing unto my sight  
was wondrous rare and strange  
And in my mind & inward thoughts  
it wrought a sudden change.  
That I so hardy was,  
to take her by the hand.  
Saying sweet Mistress why do you  
so sad and heavy stand:  
Call me no Mistress now,  
but Sara thy true friend,  
Thy servant Sara honouring thee,  
Until her life hath end.  
If thou wouldst here allege,  
thou art it years a boy,  
So was Adonis, yet was he  
fair Venus' Love and joy.  
Thus I that ne'er before  
of women found such grace,  
And seeing now so fair a Dame  
gave me a kind embrace.  
I supped with her that night,  
with joys that did abound,  
And for the same paid presently  
in money twice three pound.  
A hundred kisses then,  
for my farewell she gave,  
Saying sweet Barnwel when shall I  
again thy company have:  
O stay not too long my dear  
sweet George have me in mind,  
Her world's bewitched his childish-●●●●  
she uttered them so kind  
So that I made a vow,  
next sunday without fail,  
With my sweet Sara once again  
to tell some pleasant tale.  
When she heard me say so  
the tears fell from her eyes,  
O George quoth she if thou dost fail  
thy Sara sure will die,  
Though long yet so at last  
the pointed time was come.  
That I must with my Sara meet  
having a mighty sum.  
Of money in my hand.  
unto her house went I  
Whereas my Love upon her bed,  
in saddest sort did lie.  
What ails my heart's Delight?  
my Sara Dear (quoth he)  
Let not my Love lament & grieve,  
nor sighing pain and die,  
But tell to me my Dearest friend  
what may thy woes amend?  
And thou shalt lack no means of help  
tho forty pound I spend.  
With that she turned her head,  
& sickly thus did say,  
O my sweet George my grief is great  
ten pounds I have to pay,  
Unto a cruel wretch,  
and God he knows (quoth she)  
I have it not. Tush rise quoth I  
and take it here of me,  
Ten pounds, nor ten times ten  
shall make my love decay,  
Then from his Bag into her lap,  
he cast ten pounds straight way,  
All blithe and pleasant then,  
to banqueting they go,  
She proffered him to lie with her  
and said it should be so.  
And after that same time,  
I gave her store of coin,  
Yea sometimes fifty pound at once  
all which I did purloin.  
And thus I did pass on,  
Until my Master then,  
Did call to have his reckoning in  
cast up among his men  
The which when as I heard,  
I knew not what to say,  
For well I knew that I was out,  
two hundred pound that day  
Then from my Master straight  
I run in secret sort.  
And unto Sara Milwood then  
my state I did report,  
But how she used this youth,  
in this his extreme need,  
The which did her necessity,  
so oft with money feed.  
The second part behold,  
shall tell it forth at large,  
And shall a strumpet's wily ways  
with all her tricks discharge,  
HEre comes young Barnwel unto thee  
Sweet Sara my delight,  
I am undone except thou stand  
my faithful friend this night  
Our Master to command accounts  
hath just occasion found,  
And I am come behind the hand  
almost two hundred pound.  
And therefore knowing not at all,  
what answer for to make,  
And his displeasure to escape,  
my way to thee I take.  
Hoping that in this extremity,  
thou wilt my succour be.  
That for a time he may remain  
in secret here with thee.  
With that she knit and bent, her brows  
and looking all aquoy  
Qd. she what should I have to do,  
with any prentice boy?  
And seeing you have purloined and got  
your Master's goods away  
The case is had, and therefore here  
I mean thou shalt not stay  
Why sweetheart thou know'st he said  
that all which I did get,  
I gave it and did spend it all  
upon thee every whit:  
Thou know'st I loved thee so well,  
thou couldst not ask the thing,  
But that I did incotinent,  
the same unto thee bring.  
Quoth she thou art a paltry Jack  
to charge me in this sort,  
Being a woman of credit good.  
and known of good report.  
And therefore this I tell thee flat,  
be packing with good speed  
I do defy thee from my heart,  
and scorn thy filthy deed  
Is this the love & friendship which  
thou didst to me protest,  
Is this the greatest affection which  
you seemed to express:  
Now fie on all deceitful shows  
the best is I may speed,  
To get a lodging anywhere,  
for money in my need.  
Therefore false woman now farewell  
while twenty pound doth last,  
My Anchor in some other Haven.  
I will with wisdom cast  
When she perceiving by his words  
that he had money store.  
That she had gulled him in such sort  
it grieved her heart full sore.  
Therefore to call him back again,  
she did suppose it best.  
Stay George quoth she, thou art too quick  
wyh man I do but jest?  
Think'st thou for all my passed speech  
that I would let thee go:  
Faith no qd, she my love to thee  
I wis is more than so.  
You will not deal with Prentice boys  
I heard you even now swear  
Therefore I will not trouble you:  
my George hark in thine ear,  
Thou shalt not go to night qd. she  
what chance so ere befall,  
But man we'll have a bed for thee,  
or else the devil take all,  
thus I that was with wiles bewitched  
and snared with fancy still  
Had not the power to put away  
or to withstand her will  
Then Wine and Wine I called in  
and ch●●r upon good cheer  
And nothing in the world I thought,  
for Sarah's love too dear.  
Whilst I was in her company,  
in joy and merriment,  
And all too little I did think,  
that I upon her spent,  
A fig for care and careful thought  
when all my gold is gone,  
In faith my girl we will have more  
who e'er it light upon.  
My Father's rich, why then qd. Ay,  
would I want any gold,  
With a Father indeed quoth she  
a son may well be bold.  
I have a sister richly wed,  
I'll rob her ere I'll want:  
Why then qd. Sara they may well,  
consider of your want.  
Nay more, than this an Uncle I have  
at ludlow he doth dwell.  
He is a Graster which in wealth,  
doth all the rest excel.  
Ere I will live in lack quoth he,  
and have no coin for thee,  
I'll rob the Church and murder him  
why should you not quoth she,  
Ere I would want, were I a man,  
or live in poor estate,  
On father, friends and all my kin  
I would my talons grate;  
For without money George qd. she  
a man is but a beast,  
And bringing money thou shalt be  
always my chiefest guest.  
For say thou shouldst pursued be,  
with twenty Hues and cries  
And with a warrant searched for  
with Argo's hundred eyes,  
Yet in my house thou shalt be safe  
such privy ways there be,  
That if they sought an hundred year  
they could not find out thee,  
and so carousing in their cups  
their pleasures to content,  
George Barnwel had in little space  
his money wholly spent.  
Which being done. to Ludlow than  
he did provide to go,  
To rod his wealthy Uncle than  
his Minion would it so,  
And once or twice he thought to take  
his father by the way,  
But that he thought his Master there  
took order for his stay,  
Directly to his Uncle then.  
he rode with might and main,  
Where with good welcome and good cheer  
he did him entertain.  
A sennit space he stayed there  
Until it chanced so,  
His Uncle with fat Cattle did  
unto a Market go.  
His ki●sman needs must ride with him  
and when he saw right plain,  
Great store of money he had took  
in coming home again,  
Most suddenly within a wood  
He struck his Uncle down,  
And beat his brains out of his head  
so sore he cracked his Crown.  
And fourscore pound in ready coin  
out of his purse he took.  
And coming unto London straight  
the Country quite forsook,  
To Sara Milwood, than he came,  
Showing his store of gold,  
And how he had his Uncle slain,  
to her he plainly told,  
Tush 'tis no matter George qd. she  
so we the money have,  
To have good ●héer in folly sort  
and deck us fine and brave.  
And thus they lived in fifthy sort,  
till all his store was gone,  
And means to get them any more  
I wis poor George had none.  
And there●ore now in rattling sort  
she thrust him out of Door,  
Which is the just reward they get,  
that spend upon a Whore.  
O do me not this vile disgrace,  
in this my need quoth he,  
She called him thief and murderer,  
with all despite may be:  
And to the Constable she went  
to have him apprehended,  
And showed in each degree how far  
he had the Law offended,  
When Barnwel saw her drift,  
to Sea he got straight way,  
Where fear & Dread, & Conscience sting  
upon him still doth stay.  
Unto the Mayor of London than  
he did a Letter write,  
Wherein his own & Sarah's faults  
he did at large recite,  
Whereby she apprehended was  
and then to Ludlow sent.  
where she was judged, condemned & hanged  
for murder incontinent.  
And there this gallant Quean did die  
this was her greatest gains.  
For murdering in Polonia  
was Barnwel hanged in chains  
Lo here's the end of wilful youth,  
that after Harlots haunt,  
Who in the spoil of other men  
about the streets do flaunt.  
FINIS.   

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson.