[?] constance of Cleveland. Or,
A very excellent Sonnet of the most fair Lady Constance of Cleveland, and her disloyal Knight.
To the Tune of, Crimson Velvet.
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I T was a youthful Knight,
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lov'd a gallant Lady,
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Fair she was and bright,
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and of vertues rare,
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Her self she did behave
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so courteously as may be,
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Wedded they were brave,
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joy without compare;
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Here began the grief,
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Pain without relief,
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her husband soon her love forsook,
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To women lewd of mind,
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Being bad inclin'd,
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he onely lent a pleasant look:
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The Lady she sat weeping,
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While that he was keeping
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company with others moe,
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Her words my love believe not,
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Come to me and grieve not,
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wantons will thee overthrow.
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His fair Ladies Words
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nothing he regarded,
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Wantonness affords
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such delightful sport.
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While they dance and sing,
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with great mirth prepared,
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She her hands did wring
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in most grievous sort.
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O what hap had I,
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Thus to wail and cry!
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unrespected every day,
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Living in disdain,
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While that others gain
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all the right I should enjoy.
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I am left forsaken,
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Others they are taken,
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ah my love why dost thou so?
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Her flatteries believe not,
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Come to me and grieve not,
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wantons will thee overthrow.
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The Knight with his fair peice,
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at length the Lady spied,
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Who did him daily fleece
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of his wealth and store.
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Secretly she stood
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while she her fashions tried,
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With a patient mind
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while deep the strumpet swore.
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O sir Knight, quoth she,
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So dearly I love thee,
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my life doth rest at thy dispose.
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By day and eke by night
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For thy sweet delight,
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thou shalt me in thy arms inclose.
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I am thine for ever,
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Still I will persever
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true to thee where ere I go.
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Her flatteries believe not,
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Come to me and grieve not,
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wantons will thee overthrow.
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The vertuous Lady mild,
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enters then among them,
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Being big with child,
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as ever she might be,
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With distilling tears
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she looked then upon them,
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Filled full of fears
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thus replyed she;
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Ah my Love and dear,
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Wherefore stay you here,
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refusing me your loving Wife,
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For an Harlots sake,
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Which each one will take,
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whose vile deeds provoke much strife
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Many can accuse her,
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O my love refuse her,
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with thy Lady homeward go,
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Her flatteries believe not,
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Come to me and grieve not,
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wantons will thee overthrow.
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All in a fury then
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the angry Knight up started,
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Very furious when
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he heard his Ladies speech,
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With many bitter terms
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his Wife he ever thwarted,
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Using hard extreams,
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while she did him beseech,
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From her neck so white,
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He took away in spight,
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her curious chain of purest gold,
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Her jewels and her rings,
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And all such costly things,
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as he about her did behold.
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The Harlot in her presence,
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He did gentle reverence,
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and to her he gave them all.
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He sent away his Lady,
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Full of woe as may be,
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who in a swound with grief did fall,
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A T the Ladies wrong,
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the Harlot fleer'd and laughed,
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Enticements are so strong,
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they overcome the wise;
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The Knight nothing regarded,
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to see the Lady scoffed,
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Thus was she regarded
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for her enterprize.
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The Harlot all this space,
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Did him oft imbrace,
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she flatters him and thus doth say,
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For thee i'le dye and live,
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For thee my faith i'le give,
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no wo shall work my loves decay;
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Thou shalt be my treasure,
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Thou shalt be my pleasure,
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thou shalt be my hearts delight,
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I will be thy darling,
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I will be thy Worldling,
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in dispight of fortunes spight.
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Thus he did remain,
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in wastful great expences,
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Till it bred his pain,
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and consum'd him quite:
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When his Lands were spent,
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troubled in his sences,
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Then did he repent
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of his late lewd Life,
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For relief he hies,
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For relief he flies,
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to them on whom he spent his Gold,
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They do him deny,
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They do him defie,
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they will not once his face behold.
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Being thus distressed,
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Being thus oppressed,
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in the fields that night he lay,
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Which the Harlot knowing,
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Through her malice growing,
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sought to take his life away.
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A young and proper Lad,
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they had slain in secret,
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For the Gold he had,
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whom they did convey,
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By a Ruffion lude
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to that place directly
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Where the youthful Knight
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fast asleeping lay.
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The bloody Dagger than
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Where with they kild the Man,
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hard by the Knight he likwise laid
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Sprinkling him with blood,
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As he thought it good,
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and then no longer there he staid,
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The Knight being so abused,
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Was forthwith accused
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for this murder which was done,
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And he was condemned,
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That had not offended,
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shameful death he might not shun,
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When the Lady bright,
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understood the matter,
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That her weded Knight,
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was condemn'd to dye:
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To the King she went,
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with all the speed that might be,
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Where she did lament,
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her hard destiny:
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Noble King (quoth she)
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Pitty take on me,
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and pardon my poor husbands life,
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Else I am undone,
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With my little Son,
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let mercy mittigate this grief:
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Lady fair content thee,
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Soon thou wouldst repent thee,
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if he should be saved so;
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Sore he hath abus'd thee,
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Sore he hath misus'd thee,
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therefore Lady let him go.
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O my Liege, quoth she,
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grant your gracious
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Dear he is to me,
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though he did me wrong,
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The King reply'd again,
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with a stern behaviour,
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A Subject he hath slain,
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dye he shall e're long,
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Except thou canst find,
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Any one so kind,
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that will dye and set him free,
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Noble King she said,
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Glad am I apaid,
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that same person will I be.
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I will suffer duly,
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I will suffer truly,
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for my love and husbands sake,
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The King thereat amazed,
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Though he her beauty praised,
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he had from thence they should her take
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It was the Kings command
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on the morrow after,
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She should out of hand
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to the Scaffold go:
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Her Husband was
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to bear the Sword before her,
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He must eke alass
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give the deadly blow;
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He refus'd the deed,
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She bid him proceed,
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with a thosand kisses sweet,
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In this woful case,
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They did both imbrace,
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which mov'd the Ruffions in that place
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Straight for to discover,
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This concealed murder,
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whereby the Lady saved was,
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The Harlot then was hanged,
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As she well deserved
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this did vertue bring to pass.
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