A Lamentable ballad on the Earl of Essex's Death.  
Tune is, Essex last Good-night.  
 

ALL you that cry O hone, O hone,  
come now and sing O hone with me,  
For why our jewel is from us gone,  
the valiant Knight of Chivalry:  
Of rich and poor beloved was he,  
in time an honourable knight,  
When by our Laws condemned to die,  
He lately took his last Goodnight.   

Count him not like to Champion,  
those traitorous men of Babington,  
Nor like the Earl of Westmoorland,  
by whom a number were undone:  
He never yet hurt Mother's Son,  
his quarrel still maintains the right,  
Which the tears my face down run,  
when I think on his last good night.   

The Portugals can witness he,  
his Dagger at Lisbon gate he slung,  
And like a Knight of Chivalry,  
his Chain upon the Gate he hung;  
I would to God that he would come,  
to fetch them back in order right,  
Which thing was by his honour done,  
yet lately took their last good night.   

The Frenchmen they can testify,  
the town of Gourney he took in,  
And marched to Rome immediately,  
not ear-ring for his foes a pin:  
With Bullets than he pierced his skin,  
and made them fly from his sight:  
He there that time did credit win,  
and now hath ta'en his last good night.   

And stately Cales can witness be,  
even by his Proclamation right,  
And did command them all straightly,  
to have a care of Infant's lives,  
And that none should hurt man or wife,  
which was against their right;  
Therefore they prayed for his long life,  
which lately took his last good night.   

Would God be ne'er had Ireland 〈◊〉,  
nor set one foot on Flanders ground,  
Then might we will enjoyed our own,  
where now our jewel will not be found,  
which makes our foes still abound;  
trickling with 〈◊〉 tears in our sight,  
To hear his name in our ears to found,  
Lord Deverux took his last good night   

Ash-wednesday, that dismal day,  
When he came forth his Chamber door,  
Upon a Scaffold there he saw,  
his Headsman standing him before:  
His Nobles all they did deplore,  
shedding salt tears in his sight,  
He said farewell to rich and poor,  
at his good morrow and good night.   

My Lords, said he, you stand but by  
to see performance of the law,  
It is I that have deserved to die,  
and yield myself unto the blow;  
I have deserved to die I know,  
but ne'er against my Country's right,  
Nor to my Queen was ever foe,  
upon my death at my good night.   

Farewell, Elizabeth, my gracious Queen,  
God bless thee with thy Council all;  
Farewell my Knights of Chivalry,  
farewel my Soldiers stout and tall,  
Farewell the Commons great and small,  
into the hands of men I light,  
My life shall make amends for all,  
for Essex bid the world good night.   

Farewell dear wife, and children three,  
farewel my kind and tender son;  
Comfort yourselves, mourn not for me,  
although your fall be now begun,  
My time is come, my glass is run,  
comfort yourself in former light,  
Seeing by my fall you are undone,  
your Father bids the world good night.   

Derick, thou knowst at Cales I saved  
thy life, left for a Rape there done,  
As thou thyself canst testify,  
thine own hand three and twenty hung,  
But now thou seest myself is come,  
by chance into thy hands I light,  
Strike out thy blow, that I may know,  
thou Essex loved at his good night.   

When England counted me a Papist,  
the works of papists I defy,  
I ne'er worshipped Saint nor Angel in Heaven,  
nor the Virgin Mary, I;  
But to Christ, which for my sins did die,  
trickling with salt tears in his sight,  
Spreading my arms to God on high,  
Lord Jesus receive my soul this night.    

Printed by and for A. M. and sold by the bookseller's of London.