Anne Wallens Lamentation,
For the Murthering of her husband John Wallen a Turner in Cow-lane neere Smith-
field; done by his owne wife, on satterday the 22 of June. 1616.
who was burnt in Smithfield the first of July following.
To the tune of Fortune my foe.
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G Reat God that sees al things that here are don
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Keeping thy Court with thy celestiall Son;
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Heere her complaint that hath so sore offended,
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Forgive my fact before my life is ended.
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Ah me the shame unto all women kinde,
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To harbour such a thought within my minde:
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That now hath made me to the world a scorne,
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And makes me curse the time that I was borne.
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I would to God my mothers haples wombe,
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Before my birth had beene my happy tombe:
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Or would to God when first I did take breath,
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That I had suffered any painefull death.
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If ever dyed a true repentant soule,
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Then I am she, whose deedes are blacke and foule:
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Then take heed wives be to your husbands kinde,
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And beare this lesson truely in your minde,
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Let not your tongus oresway true reasons bounds,
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Which in your rage your utmost rancour sounds:
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A woman that is wise should seldome speake,
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Unlesse discreetly she her words repeat
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Oh would that I had thought of this before,
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Which now to thinke on makes my heart full sore:
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Then should I not have done this deed so foule,
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The which hath stained my immortall soule.
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Tis not to dye that thus doth cause me grieve,
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I am more willing far to die than live;
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But tis for blood which mounteth to the skies,
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And to the Lord revenge, revenge, it cries.
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My dearest husband did I wound to death,
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And was the cause h[e] lost his sweetest breath,
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But yet I trust his soule in heaven doth dwell,
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And mine without Gods mercy sinkes to hell.
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In London neere to smithfield did I dwell,
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And mongst my neighbours was beloved well:
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Till that the Devill wrought me this same spight,
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That all their loves are turnd to hatred quight.
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John Wallen was my loving husbands name,
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Which long hath liv'd in London in good fame.
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His trade a Turner, as was knowne full well,
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My name An Wallen , dolefull tale to tell.
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Anne wallens Lamentation,
Or the second part of the murther of one John Wallen a Turner in Cow-lane neere Smithfield; done by his owne wife, on saterday the 22 of June 1616.
who was burnt in Smithfield the first of July following,
To the tune of Fortune my foe.
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M Y husband having beene about the towne,
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And comming home, he on his bed lay down:
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To rest himselfe, which when I did espie,
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I fell to rayling most outragiously.
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I cald him Rogue, and slave, and all to naught,
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Repeating the worst language might be thought
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Thou drunken knave I said, and arrant sot,
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Thy minde is set on nothing but the pot.
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Sweet heart he said I pray thee hold thy tongue,
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And if thou dost not, I shall shall doe thee wrong,
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At which, straight way I grew in worser rage,
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That he by no meanes could my tongue asswage.
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He then arose and strooke me on the eare,
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I did at him begin to curse and sweare:
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Then presently one of his tooles I got,
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And on his body gave a wicked stroake
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Amongst his intrailes I this Chissell threw,
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Where as his Caule came out, for which I rue,
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What hast thou don, I prethee looke quoth he,
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Thou hast thy wish, for thou hast killed me.
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When this was done the neighbours they ran in,
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And to his bed they streight conveyed him:
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Where he was drest and liv'd till morne next day,
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Yet he forgave me and for me did pray.
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No sooner was his breath from body fled,
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But unto Newgate straight way they me led:
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Where I did lie untill the Sizes came,
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Which was before I there three daies had laine.
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Mother in lawe, forgive me I you pray,
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For I have made your onely childe away,
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Even all you had; my selfe made husbandlesse,
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My life and all cause [I] did so transgresse,
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He nere did wrong to any in his life,
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But he too much was wronged by his wife;
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Then wives be warn'd example take by me.
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Heavens graunt no more that such a one may be.
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My judgement then it was pronounced plaine,
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Because my dearest husband I had slaine:
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In burning flames of fire I should fry,
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Receive my soule sweet Jesus now I die.
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T: Platte.
FINIS.
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