A lamentable new Ballad upon the Earle of Essex his death.
To the tune of. The Kings last good-night.
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ALL you that cry, O hone O hone
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come now & sing O Lord with me
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For why our Jewell is from us gone,
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the valiant Knight of Chivalry:
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Of rich and poore beloved was he,
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in time an honourable Knight:
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When by our Lawes condemnd was he
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and lately tooke his last good-night.
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Count him not like to Campion,
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(these traiterous men) or Babington
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Nor like the Earle of Westmerland,
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by whom a number were undone:
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He never yet hurt mothers son,
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his quarell stil mantaind the right,
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which maks the teares my cheks down run
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when I think on his last goodnight.
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The Portingals can witnesse be,
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his Dagger at Lisbone gate he flung
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And like a Knight of Chivalry,
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his Chaine upon the same he hung,
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would God that he would thither come
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to fetch them both in order right,
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Which thing was by his honour done,
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yet lately tooke his last good-night.
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The Frenchmen they can testifie,
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the Towne of Gourney he tooke in,
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And marchd to Rone immediately,
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not caring for his foes a pin:
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with bullets then he piercd their skin
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and made them flee farre from his sight
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He at that time did credit win,
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and now hath tane his last good-night.
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And stately Cales can witnesse well,
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even by his Proclamation right:
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He did command them all straitly,
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to have a care of Infants lives:
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That none should ravish maid nor wife
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which was against their order right.
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Therefore they prayd for his long life
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which latly tooke his last good-night.
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Would God he had nere Ireland known
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nor set his feet on Flanders ground:
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Then might we well enjoy our owne,
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where now our jewel will not be found
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Which makes our woes stil to abound
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trickling with salt teares in our sight
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to heare his name in our eares to sound
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Lord Devereux took his last good-night
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Ashwednesday that dismall day,
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when he came forth of his chamber doore
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Upon a Scaffold there he saw,
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his headsman standing him before,
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The Nobles all they did deplore.
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shedding their salt teares in his sight
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He said farewell to rich and poore.
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at his good-morrow and good-night.
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My Lords, quoth he, you stand but by,
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to see performance of the Law?
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Its I that have deservd to dye,
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and yeeld my life unto the blow,
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I have deservd to dye, I know,
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but nere against my Countries right,
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Nor to my Queene was never foe,
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upon my death at my good-night.
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farewel Elizabeth my gracious Queen
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God blesse thee & thy Councell all
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Farewell you Knights of Chivalry,
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farewell my Souldiers stout and tall,
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Farewell the Commons great & small,
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into the hands of men I light.
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My life shall make amends for all,
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for Essex bids the world good-night.
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Farewell deare wife & children three,
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farewell my yong and tender son,
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Comfort your selves mourne not for me,
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although you fall be now begun,
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My time is come, the glasse [i]s run,
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comfort your selves, in former light
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Seeing by my fall you are undone,
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your father bids the world good-night
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Dericke, thou knowest, at Cales I savd
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thy life, lost for a Rape there done,
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Which thou thy selfe canst testifie,
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thine owne hand three & twenty hung,
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But now thou seest my time is come,
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by chance into thy hands I light,
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Strike out the blow, that I may know,
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thou Essex lovd at his good-night.
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When England counted me a Papist,
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the workes of Papists I defie,
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I nere worshipt Saint, nor Angel in heaven,
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nor to the Virgin Mary I,
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But to Christ, which for my sins did die
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trickling with sad teares in his sight,
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Spreding my armes to God on high,
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Lord Jesus receive my soule this night
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