The Woeful LAMENTATION of JANE SHORE, A Goldsmith's Wife, in London, sometime King EDWARD the Fourth's CONCUBINE, who for her Wanton Life came to a Miserable End: Set forth for the EXAMPLE of all Wicked LIVERS.  
To the Tune of, Live with me, etc.  
Licenced and Entered according to Order.  
 
IF Rosamond that was so fair,  
Had cau●e her Sorrows to declare,  
Then let Jane Shore with sorrow sing,  
That was beloved of a king:  
Then wanton Wives in time amend,  
For Love and Beauty will have end.  
In Maiden yea●s my Beauty bright,  
Was loved dear of Lord and Knight,  
But yet the love that they required,  
It was not as my Fr●●nds desireed:  
My parents they for thirst of Gain,  
A Husband for me did obtain,  
And I their pleasure to fulfil,  
Was forced to wed against my will:  
To Matthew Short I was a Wife,  
Till Lust brought ruin to my life,  
And then my life so lewdly spent,  
Which makes my soul for to lament:  
In Lumbard-street I once did dwell,  
As London yet can witness well,  
Where many Gallants did behold  
My Beauty in a Shop of Gold:  
I spread my plumes as Wantoness do,  
Some swe●t and secret friend to Woo,  
Because m● Love I did not find,  
Agreeing to my wanton mind.  
At last my name in Court did ring,  
Into the ears of England's king,  
Who came and liked, and love required;  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●●de coy what he desired:  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Blague, a Neighbour near,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I esteemed 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 gallant 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●ing  
〈…〉  
〈…〉  
And wrong my wedded husband Shore,  
Whom I had loved ten years before,  
In heart and mind I did rejoice,  
That I had made so sweet a Choice,  
And therefore did my State resign,  
To be King Edward's Concubine.  
From City then to Court I went,  
To reap the pleasures of Content,  
And had the joy that Love could bring,  
And knew the Secrets of a King:  
When I was thus advanc'● on high,  
Commanding Edward with mine Eye,  
For Mistress Blague I in ●●or● space  
Obtained a Living of his Grace.  
Not friend I had but in short time  
I made unto Promotion climb:  
But yet for all this costly pride,  
My Husband could not me abide:  
His bed, though wronged by a King,  
His heart with grief did deadly sting:  
From England then be goes away,  
To end h●slife upon the Sea;  
He ●ould not live to see his Name  
Impaired by my wanton Shame,  
Although a Prince of Peerless Might,  
Did reap the pleasures of his Right,  
Long time I lived in the Court,  
With Lords and Ladies of great sort,  
For when I smiled all Men were glad,  
But when I mourned my Prince grew sad  
But yet an honest mind I bore,  
To helpless People that were poor,  
I still redressed the Orphan's Cry,  
And saved their lives condemned to die.  
I still had ruth on Widow's Tears,  
I succoured Babes of tender years,  
And never looked for other gain,  
But Love and Thanks for all my pain.  
At last my Royal King did die,  
And then my days of Woe grew nigh,  
When Crook-back R. got the Crown,  
K. Edward's Friends were soon put down.  
I than was punished for my Sin,  
That I so long had lived in:  
Yea, every one that was his Friend,  
This Tyrant brought to shameful End.  
Then for my rude and wanton Life,  
That made a Strumpet of a Wife,  
I Penance did in Lumbard-street,  
In shameful manner in a Sheet:  
Where many thousands did me view,  
Who late in Court my Credit knew;  
Which made the tears run down my face  
To think upon my foul Disgrace:  
Not thus content, they took from me  
My Goods, my Livings, and my Fee,  
And charged that none should me Relieve,  
〈◊〉 any Succour to me give:  
Then unto Mistress Blague I went,  
To whom my jewels I had sent,  
In hope thereby to ease my Want,  
When Riches failed and Love grew scant:  
But she denied to me the same,  
When in my Need for them I came:  
To recompense my former Love,  
Out of her Doors she did me shove:  
So Love did vanish with my State,  
Which now my soul reputes too late;  
Therefore Example take by me,  
For Friendship parts in Poverty.  
But yet one Friend among the rest,  
Whom I before had seen distressed,  
And saved his Life condemned to die,  
Did give me Food to succour me;  
For which, by Law, it was decreed,  
That he was hanged for that Deed:  
His Death did grieve me so much more,  
Then had I died myself therefore:  
Then those to whom I had done good,  
Durst not restore me any food;  
Whereby in vain I begged all day,  
And still in Streets by night I lay.  
My Gowns beset with pearl and Gold,  
Are turned to simple Garments old;  
My Chains and Gems and golden Rings,  
To filthy Rags and loathsome Things,  
Thus was I sconed of Maid and Wife,  
For leading such a wicked Life:  
Both sucking Babes and Children small,  
Did make a Pastime at my Fall;  
I could not get one bit of Bread,  
Whereby my hunger might be fed:  
Nor Drink but such as Channels yield,  
Or stinking Ditches in the Field;  
Thus weary of my Life at length,  
I yield up my vital strength,  
Within a Ditch of loathsome scent,  
Where Carrion-dogs do much frequent,  
The which now since my Dying-day,  
Is Shoreditch called as Writers say:  
Which is a Witness of my Sin,  
For being Concubine to a King;  
You wanton Wives that fall to Lust,  
Be you assured that God is Just;  
Whoredom shall not escape his hand,  
Nor Pride unpunished in this Land;  
If God to me such Shame should bring,  
That yielded only to a King;  
How shall they 'scape that daily run,  
To practise Sin with every Man?  
You husbands match not but for Love,  
Lest some Disliking after prove;  
Women be warned when you are Wives,  
What Plagues are due to sinful Lives:  
Then Maids & Wives in time amend,  
For Love and Beauty will have end.  

The Second Part: of J. SHORE, wherein her Husband Bewailed the Estate, her Wantonness, the Wrong of Marriage, and the Fall of Pride.  
If she that was fair London's Pride,  
For Beauty famed both far and wide,  
With Swanlike-song in Sadness told,  
Her deep Distresses manifold:  
Then in the same let me also,  
Now bear a part of such like Woe:  
Kind Matthew Shore, Men called me,  
A Goldsmith once of good Degree,  
And might have lived long therein,  
Had not my Wife been wed to Sin:  
Ah gentle Jane, thy wanton Race,  
Hath brought me to this foul Disgrace.  
Thou hadst all things at wish and will,  
Thy wanton Fancy to fulfil,  
No London Dame nor Merchant's Wife,  
Did lead so sweet and pleasant Life:  
Then gentle Jane the Truth report,  
Why left'st thou me to live in Court?  
Thou hadst both Gold and Silver store,  
No Wife in London then had more;  
And once a Week in walk in field,  
To see what plessure it would yield.  
But woe to me that Liberty,  
Hath brought me to this Mis'ery:  
I married thee whilst thou wert young,  
Before thou knewest what did belong,  
To Husband's Love, or Marriage state,  
Which now my Soul reputes too late:  
Thus wanton Pride made thee Unjust,  
And so deceived was my Trust.  
But when the King possessed my room,  
And cropped my rosy gallant Bloom,  
Fair London's Blossom, and my joy  
My heart was drowned in deep annoy,  
To think how unto public Shame,  
The wicked Life brought my good Name.  
And then I thought each Man and Wife,  
In jesting sore accused my Life;  
And every one to the other said,  
That Shore's fair Wife the Wanton played;  
Thereby in mind I grew to change  
My Dwelling in some Country strange,  
My Lands and Goods I sold away,  
And so from England went to Sea;  
Oppressed with Grief and woeful Mind,  
But left my Cause of Grief behind:  
My loving Wife whom I once thought,  
Would never be to Lewdness brought,  
But Women now I well espy,  
Are subject to unconstancy;  
And few there be so true of Love,  
But by long suit will wanton prove;  
For Flesh is frail, and Women weak,  
When Kings for Love long suit do make.  
But yet from England my Depart,  
Was with a sad and heavy heart,  
Whereat when as my Leave I took,  
I sent back many a heavy look,  
Desiring God, if it might be,  
To send one sigh, sweet Jane, to thee!  
For if thou hadst but constant been,  
These days of Woe I ne'er had seen,  
But yet I mourn and grieve full sore,  
To think to what Plagues are left in store,  
For such as careless tread awry,  
The modest Paths of Constancy:  
Ah! gentle Jane, if thou didst know,  
The uncouth Paths I daily go,  
And woeful Tears for thee I shed,  
For wronging thus my Marriagebed,  
Then sure I am thou wouldst confess,  
My Love was sure though in Distress:  
Both Flanders, France, and Spain I passed,  
And came to Turkey at the last;  
And there within that mighty Court,  
I lived long in honest sort;  
Desiring God, that sits in Heaven,  
That Lovers Sins might be forgiven,  
And there advanced thy loving Name,  
Of living Wights the fairest Dame:  
The praise of England's Beauty slain,  
All which thy Husband did maintain,  
And set thy picture there in Gold,  
For kings and Princes to behold,  
But when I thought upon thy Sin,  
Thy wanton thoughts delighted in,  
I grieved that such a comely Face,  
Should hold true Honour in Disgrace,  
And counted it a Luckless day,  
When as thou first didst go Astray,  
Desiring then some News to hear,  
Of her my Soul did love so dear,  
My Secrets than I did impart,  
To one well skilled in Magic Art,  
Who in a Glass did truly show,  
Such things as I desired to know:  
I there did see thy Courtly State,  
Thy Pomp, thy Pride, thy Glory great;  
And likewise there I did behold,  
My Jane in Edward's Arms enfold:  
Thy secret Love I there espied,  
Thy Rice, thy Fall, and how thou died;  
Thy naked Body in the Street,  
I saw do Penance in a Sheet;  
Barefoót before the Beadle's Wand,  
With burning Taper in thy hand,  
And Babes, not having use of Tongue,  
Stood pointing as thou wentest along;  
Thus ended was the Shame of thine,  
Though God gave yet no end to mine:  
When I supposed my Name forgot,  
And time had washed away my Blot,  
And in another Prince's Reign,  
I came to England back again:  
But staying there, my Friends decayed,  
My Prince's Laws I disobeyed,  
And by true Justice judged to die,  
For Clipping Gold in secrecy:  
By Gold was my best Living made,  
And so by Gold my Life decayed:  
Thus have you heard the woeful Strife,  
That came by my Unconstant Wife,  
Her Fall, my Death, wherein is showed,  
The Story of a Strumpet lewd;  
In hope thereby some Women may  
Take heed how they the Wanton 〈◊〉    

Printed by, and for W. ●., for A. M. and sold by the Book sellers of Pie-corner and Lond 〈…〉