The most Rare and Excellent History, Of the Duchess of Suffolk's calamity.  
To the Tune of, Queen Dido.  
 
 

WHen God had taken for our sin,  
that prudent Prince K. Edward away,  
Then bloody Bonner did begin  
his raging malice to be wray:  
All those that did God's Word profess,  
He persecuted more or less.   

Thus whilst the Lord on us did lower,  
many in Prison he did throw,  
Tormenting them in Lollards Tower,  
whereby they might the truth forego:  
Then Cranmer, Ridley, and the rest,  
were burning in the fire, that Christ professed.   

Smithfield was then with Faggots filled,  
and many places more besides,  
At Coventry was Sanders killed,  
at Wooster eke, good Hopper died;  
And to escape this bloody day,  
Beyond-sea many fled away.   

Amongst the rest that sought release,  
and for their faith in danger stood,  
Lady Elizabeth was chief,  
King Henry's Daughter of Royal blood;  
Which in the Tower did Prisoner lie,  
Looking each day when she should die.   

The Duchess of Suffolk seeing this,  
whose life like wise the Tyrant sought:  
Who in the hopes of heavenly bliss,  
within God's Word her comfort wrought:  
For fear of death was faint to fly,  
And leave her house most secretly.   

That for the love of God alone,  
her Land and Goods she left behind,  
Seeking still for that precious stone,  
the word and truth so rare to find:  
She with her Nurse, Husband, and Child,  
In poor array their sighs beguiled.   

Thus through London they passed along  
each one did take a several street,  
Thus all along escaping wrong,  
at Billingsgate they all did meet,  
Like people poor in Gravesend-barge,  
They simply went with all their charge.   

And all along from Gravesend-town,  
with journeys short on foot they went,  
Unto the Sea-coast came they 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 Flanders they did safe arrive,  
This was to their great ease of mind,  
and from their heavy hearts much woe did drive,  
And so with thanks to God on high,  
They took their way to Germany.   

Thus as they travelled still disguised,  
upon the Highway suddenly,  
By cruel Thiefs they were surprised,  
assailing their small company:  
And all their treasures and their store,  
They took away and beat them sore.   

The Nurse in midst of their fight,  
laid down the Child upon the ground,  
She 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 Thiefs had there their horses killed,  
and all their money quite had took,  
The pretty baby almost spoiled,  
was by the Nurse like wise forsaken:  
And they far from their friends did stand  
And succourless in a strange Land.   

The Sky likewise began to scowl,  
it Hailed and Reigned in piteous sort,  
The way was long and wondrous foul,  
then may I now full well report,  
Their grief and sorrow was not small,  
When this unhappy chance did fall.   

SOmetimes 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 well was pleased.   

And after many a weary step,  
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 there they could not be.   

From house to house then they did go,  
seeking that night where they might lie,  
But want of money was their woe,  
and still their babe with cold did cry;  
With cap and knee they courtesy make  
But none of them would pity take.   

Lo here a Prince of great blood,  
doth pray a peasant for relief,  
With tears bedewed as she stood,  
yet few or none regard her grief:  
Her speech they could not understand,  
But gave her money in her hand.   

When all in vain her speeches spent,  
and that they could not houseroom get,  
Into a Church-porch than they went,  
to stand out of the rain and wet:  
Then said the Duchess to her Dear,  
O 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 fire side  
to dress her Daughter that had need:  
And whilst she dressed it in her lap,  
Her Husband made the Infant pap.   

Anon the Sexston thither came,  
and finding them there by the fire,  
The drunken Knave, all void of shame,  
to drive them out was his desire:  
And spurned forth the Noble Dame,  
Her husband's wrath she did inflame.   

And all in fury as he stood,  
he wrung the Church-keys out of his hand  
And struck him so that all the blood,  
his head ran down as he did stand:  
Wherefore the Sexston 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 Tiger's wild;  
And to the Governor were brought,  
Who understood them not in aught.   

Then Master Bertue 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 straight,  
with words abashed at this sight,  
Unto them all that there did wait,  
he thus broke forth in words aright:  
Behold within your sight, quoth he,  
A Prince of most high degree.   

With that the Governor and all the rest,  
were all amazed the same to hear,  
Who welcomed this new come guest,  
with reverence great and Princely cheer,  
And afterwards conveyed they were,  
Unto their Friend, Prince Cassimere.   

A Son she had in Germany,  
Pergrine Bartue called by name,  
Surnamed the good Lord Willoughby,  
of courage great and worthy fame:  
Her daughter young with her went,  
Was afterwards Countess of Kent.   

For when Queen Mary was deceased  
the Duchess home returned again  
Who was of sorrow quite released,  
by Queen Llizabeths' happy Reign:  
Whose godly life and piety,  
We may praise continually.    

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