A pleasant new ballad, showing how Sir john Armstrong and Nathaniel Musgrave fell in Love with the Lady Dacres Daughter of the North; and of the strife that was between them for her, and how they wrought the Death of one hundred men. To a new Northern Tune. AS it fell out one Whitsunday, the blithe time of the year, When cherry tree was clad with green, and pretty Birds sing clear; The Lady Dacres took her way, Unto the Church that pleasant day, With her fair daughter fresh and gay, a bright and bonny Lass: Fa lafoy tre dang de do; trang trole lo trang de do, With hay trang trole lo lie, she was a bonny Lass. Sir Michael Musgrave in like sort, to Church repaired then, And so did sir John Armstrong too, with all his merry men, Two greater friends there could not be Nor braver Knights for Chivalry, Both Bachelors of high degree, fit for a bonny Lass. They sat them down upon one seat, like loving brethren dear, With hearts and minds devoutly bend God's service for to hear: But rising from their Prayers tho, Their eyes a ranging straight did go, Which wrought their utter overthrow all for one bonny Lass. Qd. Musgrave unto Armstrong then, yond sits the sweetest Dame, That ever for her fair beauty, within this Country came. Insooth quoth Armstrong presently, Your judgement I must verify, There never came unto my eye a braver bonny Lass. I swear said Musgrave by this sword, which did my Knighthood win, To steal away so sweet a Dame, could be no ghostly sin: That deed qd. Armstrong would be ill, Except he had her right good will, That your desire she would fulfil, and be thy bonny Lass. By this the service quite was done, and home the people past, They wished a blister on his tongue, that made thereof such haste. At the Church door the knights did meet, The Lady Dacres for to greet. But most of all her daughter sweet, that beauteous bonny Lass. Said Armstrong to the Lady fair: we both have made a vow, At dinner for to be your Guests, if you will it allow. With that bespoke that Lady free, Sir Knights right welcome shall you be The happier men therefore are we, for Love of this bonny Lass. Thus was the knights both pricked in love both in one moment thralled, And both with one fair Lady gay thus blind in Cupid called. With humble thanks they went away Like wounded Hearts chaste all the day: One would not to the other say, they loved this bonny Lass. Fair Isabel on the other side, as far in love was found, So long brave Armstrong she had eyed, till love her heart did wound; Brave Armstrong is my joy, quoth she Would Chrift he were alone with me; To talk an hour two or three, with his fair bonny Lass. But as these knights together rode and homeward did repair, Their talk and eke their countenance showed their hearts were clogged with care, Fair Isabel the one did say, Thou hast subdued my heart this day; But she's my joy did Musgrove say, my bright and bonny Lass. With that these friends incontinent, became most deadly foes, For love of beauteous Isabel, great strife betwixt them rose; Quoth Armstrong she shall be my wife, Although for her I lose my life, And thus began a deadly strife, and for one bonny Lass. Thus two years long this grudge did grow these gallant Knights between, While they a wooing both did go, unto this beauteous Queen. And she who did their furies prove, To neither would bewray her love, The deadly quarrel to remove, about this bonny Lass. But neither of her fair entreats, nor yet her sharp dispute: Would they appease their raging ire, nor yet give o'er their suit. The Gentlemen of the North country At last did make this good decree, All for a perfert unity, about this bonny Lass. The love sick knights should both be set within one hall so wide, Each of them in a gallant sort, even at a several tide. And 'twixt them both for certainty, Fair Isabel should placed be, Of them to take her choice full free, most like a bonny Lass. And as she like an Angel bright, betwixt them mildly stood, She turned unto each several Knight, with pale and changed blood. Now am I at Liberty, To make and take my choice, quoth she Yea, quoth the Knights we do agree, then choose thou bonny Lass. O Musgrave thou art all too hot: to be a Lady's Love, Quoth she and Armstrong seems a sot, where Love binds him to prove; Of courage great is Musgrave still, And sith to choose I have my Will, Sweet Armstrong shall my joys fulfil and I his bonny Lass. The Nobles and the Gentiles both, that were in present place, Rejoiced at this sweet record, but Musgrave in disgrace, Out of the Hall did take his way, And Armstrong married was next day With Isabel his Lady gay, a bright and bonny Lass. But Musgrave on the wedding day, like to a Scotchman dight, In secret sort alured out, the Bridegroom for to fight, And he that will not outbraved be, Unto his challenge did agree, Where he was slain most suddenly, for his fair bonny Lass. The news hereof was quickly brought, unto the Lovely Bride; And many of young armstrong's kin, did after Musgrave ride. They hewed him when they had him got As small as flesh into the pot, Lo thus befell a heavy Lot, about this bonny Lass. The Lady young which did lament this cruel cursed strife, For very grief died that day, a Maiden and a Wife: An hundred men that hapless day, Did lose their Lives in that same fray And 'twixt those names as many say, is deadly hate still biding. FINIS. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.