A Lamentable Ballad of a Combat lately performed near London, between Sir James Steward, and Sir George Wharton Knights: who were both slain at that time.  
Tune is, Down Plumpton Park, etc.  

 

IT grieves my heart to tell the love,  
near London late befall.  
On Martlemas Eve, O woe is me,  
I grieve the chance and ever shall:  
Of two right gallant Gentlemen,  
who very rashly fell at words,  
But to their quarrel could not fall,  
till they fell both by their keen swords.   

The one was Sir George Wharton called,  
the good Lord wharton's Son and Heir,  
The other Sir James a Scottish Knight,  
a man that a valiant heart did bear:  
Near to the Court these Gallants stout,  
fell out as they in gaming were;  
And their fury grew so hot.  
they hardly could from blows forbear.   

Nay, kind entreaties could not stay,  
Sir James from striking in that place,  
For in the height and heat of blood  
he struck young Wharton o'er the face:  
What dost thou mean, said Wharton then,  
to strike in such unmanly sort,  
That I will take it at thy hand,  
the tongue of man shall ne'er Report.   

Why, do thy worst then said Sir James,  
and mark me Wharton what I say;  
There's ne'er a Lord in England breaths,  
shall make me give an inch of way.  
This brags too brave, stout Wharton said,  
let our large English Lords alone,  
And talk with me that am your foe,  
for thou shall find enough of one.   

Alas Sir! said the Scottish Knight,  
thy blood and mind's too base for me,  
Thy oppositions be too bo●d  
and will thy dire destruction be;  
Nay, said young Wharton you mistake,  
my courage and valour equals thine,  
To make't apparent, cast thy Glove,  
to gauge to try as I do mine.   

I said Sir James hast thou such spirit,  
I did not think within thy breast,  
That such a haughty daring heart  
as thou makest show of e'er could Rest.  
I interchange my Glove with thee,  
take it and point thy bed of death,  
The field I mean where we must fight,  
and one for both lose life and breath.   

We'll meet near whaltham, said sir George  
to morrow that shall be the day,  
We'll either take a single man,  
and try who bears the bell away.  
This done, together hands they shook,  
and without any envious sign,  
They went to Ludgate, where they stayed,  
and drank each man his pint of wine.   

NO kind of anger could be seen,  
no words of malice might bewray  
But all was fair, as calm, as cool,  
as Love within their bosom lay:  
Till parting time, and then indeed,  
they showed some rancour of their heart:  
George, said sir James, when next we meet  
so sound I know we shall not part.   

And so they parted both Resolved  
to have their Valour fully try●d:  
The second part shall briefly show.  
both how they met, and how the● died.    

The second Part,  
to the same Tune.  

Young wharton was the first that came,  
to the appointed place the next day  
Who presently spied Sir James coming  
as fast as be could post awa●:  
And being met in manly sort,  
the Scottish Knight did to Wharton say  
I do not like thy doublet George,  
it sits so clear on thee to day.   

Hast thou no privy Armour on,  
nor yet no privy coat of steel,  
I ne'er saw Lord in all my Life,  
become a doublet half so well.  
Now nay, now nay, stout Wharton said,  
Sir James Steward that may not be,  
I'll not an armed man come hither,  
and thou a naked man truly.   

Our men shall strip one doublets George,  
so shall we know whether of us Lie:  
And then we'll to our weapons sharp,  
out selves true Gallants for to try:  
Then they stripped off their doublets fair,  
standing up in their shirts of Lawn,  
Fellow my counsel the Scotchman said,  
and wharton to thee i'll make known.   

Now follow my counsel, i'll follow thine,  
and we'll fight in out shirts (said he,  
Now nay, now nay, young Wharton said  
Sir james Steward that may not be.  
Unless we were drunkards and quarrellers  
that had no care of our fell,  
Nor caring what we go about,  
or whether our souls go to heaven or hell.   

We'll first to God bequeath our souls,  
than next our Corpse to dust and clay,  
With that stout Wharton was the first,  
took Rapier and Poniard there that day.  
Seven thrusts in turns these gallants has  
before one drop of blood was drawn:  
The Scottish Knight then speak valiantly  
stout Wharton still thou hold'st thy own.   

W●th the next thrust that Wharton thrust  
he ran him through the shou'der bone:  
The next was through the thick o'th' thigh  
thinking he had the Scotch Kt. slain.  
Then wharton said to the Scottish Knight  
are you a living man? tell me,  
If there be a Surgeon in England can,  
he shall cure your wounds right speedily.   

Now nay, now nay, the Scotch Knight said,  
Sir George wharton that may not be,  
The one of us shall the other kill,  
e'er off this ground that we do fly:  
Then in a maze Sir George looked back,  
to see what company was nigh;  
They both had dangerous marks of death,  
yet neither would from other fly.   

But both through body wounded sore,  
with courage lusty strong and sound:  
They made a deadly desperate close,  
and both fell dead unto the ground.  
Our English Knight was first that fell,  
the Scottish Knight fell immediately.  
Who cried both to jesus Christ,  
receive our souls, O Lord we die.   

God bless our Noble King and Queen,  
and all the Noble Progeny:  
That Britain all may live in one,  
in perfect love and unity.  
Thus to conclude I make an end,  
wishing that quarrels still may cease:  
And that we still may live in love,  
in prosperous state, in joy and peace.   
FINIS.    

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