A Lamentable ballad of the tragical end of a Gallant Lord, and a Virtuous Lady, with the untimely end of their two children, wickedly performed by a Heathenish Blackamoor their servant, the like never heard of before.  
To the tune of, The Lady's fa●l.  
 


IN Rome a Noble man did wed  
a Virgin of great F●me,  
〈◊〉 fairer Creature never did  
Dame Nature ever frame,  
By whom he had two children fair,  
whose beauty did excel,  
They were their Parents only joy  
they loved them hath so well,   

This Lord he lo●●'d to hunt the Buck  
the Tiger and the Bear,  
And still for swiftness always took  
with him a Blackamoor  
Which Blackamoor within the wood  
his Lord he did offend,  
For which he did him then correct  
in hope he would amend.   

The day it grew unto an end,  
than home ward he did ha●●e  
Where with his Lady he did rest  
until the night was past,  
Than in the morning he did rise,  
and did his servants call,  
A hunting he provided to go  
straight they were ready all,   

C●use of the toil his Lady did  
entreat him not to go,  
Alas good Lady than quoth be;  
why art thou grieved so;  
Content thyself I will return  
with speed to thee again,  
Good Father quoth the little Babes,  
with us here still remain.   

Farewell dear children I will go  
a fine thing you to buy.  
But they therewith nothing content  
aloud began to cry.  
The Mother takes them by the hand,  
saying, come go with me,  
Unto the highest tower where  
your Father you shall see   

The Blackamoor perceiving now  
who then did stay behind,  
His Lord to be a hunting gone  
began to call to mind;  
My Master he did me correct,  
my fault not being great;  
Now of his wife I'll be revenged  
she shall not me entreat.   

The place was moted round about,  
the Bridge he up did draw:  
The Gates he bolted very fast  
of none in stood in awe.  
He up into the tower went  
the Lady being there,  
Who when she saw his countenance grim  
she strait began to fear.   

But now my trembling heart it quakes  
to think what I must write;  
My senses all begin to fail  
My soul it doth affright.  
Yet must I make an end of th●s  
which here I have begun:  
Which will make sad the hardest heart  
before that I have done.   

This wretch unto the Lady went  
and her with speed did will,  
His lust forthwith to satisfy  
his mind for to fulfil.  
The Lady she amazed was  
to hear the Villain speak,  
Alas quoth she what shall I do  
with grief my heart will break?   

With that he took her in his arms  
she strait for help did cry,  
Content yourself Lady he said  
your Husband is not nigh.  
The bridge is drawn, the gates are s●ut  
therefore come lie with me,  
Or else I do protest and vow  
thy Butcher I will be.   

The Crystal tears ran down her face,  
her children cried amain:  
And sought to help their Mother dear  
but all it was in vain.  
For that Egregious filthy Rogu●,  
her hands behind her bound,  
And then perforce with all his might,  
he threw her on the ground.    

The second part  
to the same tune.  

WIth that she shrieked, her children cried  
and such a noise did make,  
The towns-folks hearing her laments,  
did see● their parts to take.  
But all in vain no way they found,  
to help the Lady's need.  
Who cried to them most piteous  
O help, O help with speed.   

Some ran unto the Forest wide,  
her Lord home for to call,  
And they that stood still did lament  
this gallant Ladies fall.  
With Speed her Lord came passing home  
he could not enter in,  
His Lady's cries did pierce his heart,  
to call he did begin.   

O hold thy hand thou Savage Moor,  
to hurt her do forbear,  
Or else be sure if I do live  
wild horses shall thee tear:  
With that the Rogue ran to the wall,  
he having had his will.  
And brought one child under his arm  
his dearest blood to spill.   

The child seeing his Father there  
to him for help did call,  
O Father help my Mother dear  
we shall be killed all.  
Then fell the Lord upon his knee,  
and did the Moor entreat,  
To save the life of his poor child,  
Whose fear as then was great,   

But this vile wretch the little child,  
by both the heels did take.  
And dash the br●ins against the wall,  
Whilst Parents hear● did ache.  
That being done strait way he ran  
the other child to fetch.  
And plucked it from the Mother's breast,  
most like a cruel wretch.   

Within one hand a knife he brought  
the child within another,  
And holding it over the wall,  
saying, thus die shall thy Mother:  
With that he cut the throat of it,  
then to the Father did call,  
To look how he the head had cut  
then down the head did fall,   

This done, he threw it down the wall,  
into the Mote so deep,  
Which made his Father wring his hands  
and grievously to weep.  
Then to the Lady went this Rogue,  
who was near dead with fear,  
Yet this rise wretch most cruelly  
did drag her by the hair.   

And drew her to the very wall  
which when her Lord did see  
Then presently he cried out,  
and fe●l upon his knee,  
Quoth he if thou will save her life  
whom I do love so dear.  
I will forgive thee all is past,  
though they concern me near,   

O save her life I thee beseech,  
O save her I thee pray!  
And I will give thee what thou wilt  
demand of me this day.  
Well quoth the Moor I do regard  
the moan that thou dost ma●e,  
It thou wilt grant me what I ask  
I'll save her for thy sake.   

O save her life and then demand  
of me what thing thou wilt,  
Cut off thy nose and not one drop  
of her blood shall be spilt.  
With that the Lord presently took  
a knife within his hand,  
And then his nose be quite cut off  
in place where he did stand,   

N●w have I bought my La●ies life,  
then to the Moor did call.  
Then take her quoth this wicked rogue  
and down he let her fall.  
Which when her gallant Lord did see  
his senses all did fail  
Yet many sought to save her life  
but nothing would prevail.   

When as the Moor did see him dead,  
than did he laugh amain,  
At them who for their gallant Lord  
and Lady did complain.  
Quoth he I know you'll torture me  
If that you can me get,  
But all your threats I do not fear  
nor yet regard one whit.   

Wild horses shall my body tear,  
I know it to be true,  
But I'll prevent you of that pain  
and down himself be threw,  
Too good a d●ath for such a wretch  
a Villain void of fear,  
And thus doth end as sad a tale  
as ever man did hear.    
Finis.   

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