The lamentation of Mr Pages wife of Plymouth: Who being enforced to wed against her will, did consent to his murder for the love of George Strangwidge, for which fact they suffered death at Barstable in Devonshire.  The tune is, Fortune my Foe. 

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

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

In blooming years my Father's greedy mind,  
Against my wi● a match for me did find,  
Great wealth there was, yea, gold and silver store,  
But yet my heart had chosen one before.   

Mine eyes disliked my Father's liking quite,  
My heart did loath my Parents fond delight:  
My grie●er mind and fancy told to me,  
That with his Age my youth could not agree.   

On knees I ●ray'd they would not me constrain,  
With tears I cried, their purpose to reftrain,  
With sighs and sobs I did them often move  
I might not wed whereas I could not love.   

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

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

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

'Cause knew I none, that should despite him so,  
That such disdain within my heart did grow,  
Save only this, that fancy did me move,  
And told me still Georg Strangwindge was my love.   

But here began my downfall and decay,  
In mind I musted to make him strait away,  
I that became his discontented Wife,  
Contented was he should be ride of life.   

Methinks the heavens cries vengeance for my fact,  
Methinks the world condemns my monstrous act  
Methinks within, my Conscience tells me true,  
That for that deed Hell fire is my due.   

My pensive soul doth sorrow for my sin,  
For which offence my soul doth bleed within,  
But mercy Lord, for mercy still I cry,  
Save thou my soul, and let my body die.   

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

O woe is me that had no greater grace,  
Lo stay till he had run out nature's race:  
My deed I rue, but more I do repent,  
That to the same my Stangwidge gave consent.   

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

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

O wretched world! whom cankered rust doth blind,  
And cursed men who bear a greedy mind;  
And hapless I whom Parents did force so  
To end my days in sorrow, shame, and woe.   

You Devonshire Dames, & courteous Cornwall Kts.  
That here are come to visit woeful Wights,  
Regard my grief, and mark my woeful end  
But to your children be a better friend.   

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

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

And Parents now whose greedy minds do show  
Your hearts desire, and inward heavy woe,  
Mourn you no more, for hope my heart doth tell  
E'er day be done, that I shall be full well.   

And Plymouth proud I bid thee now farewel,  
Take heed you Wives, let not your hands ribald,  
And farewel life, wherein such sorrow shows  
And welcome death that must my Corpse enclose.   

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

Lord bless our King with long and happy life  
And send true peace betwixt each man and wife,  
And give all Parent's wisdom to foresee,  
The match is marred where minds do not agree.    

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

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

O Glansfield cause of my committed crime,  
Snared in wealth, as birds in bush of lime.  
What cause hadst thou to hear such wicked spite?  
Against my Love and eke my heart's delight.   

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

The match unméet which thou for me didst make,  
When aged Page thy daughter home did take.  
Well mayst thou rue with tears that cannot dry  
Which is the cause that four of us must die.   

Vlalia more bright than Summers' Sun,  
Whose beauty had my love for ever won,  
My soul more sobs to think of thy disgrace,  
Then to behold my one untimely race.   

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

It was for me alas thou didst the same,  
On me by ●ight they ought to lay the blame,  
My worthless love hath brought my life in scorn,  
Now woe so me that ever I was born.   

Farewell my Love whose royal heart was seen,  
Would God thou hadst not half so constant been,  
Farewell my Love the Pride of Plymouth town,  
Farewell the flower whose beauty is cut down.   

For twéenty years great was the cost I know,  
Thy unkind Father did on thee bestow,  
Yet afterwards so sour did Fortune lower,  
He lost his joy and child within an hour.   

My wrong and woe ●o God I do commit,  
Who was the cause of matching them unfit,  
And yet my guilt I cannot so excuse,  
We gave consent his life for to abuse.   

Wretch that I am that my consent did give,  
Had I denied, Vlalia still should live,  
Blind fancy said do not this suit deny,  
Live thou in bliss, or else in sorrow die.   

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

The Complaint of Mrs. Page forcausing her Husband to be murdered for the love of George Strangwidge, who were executed together.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Farewell false world and Friends that fickle be,  
All wives Farewell, example take by me.  
Let not the Devil to murder you entice,  
Seek to escape such foul and filthy vice.   

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

Printed for F. Coles. Tho. Vere and W. Gilbertson.