A Godly Warning for all Maidens, by the exam
ple of Gods Judgement shewed on one Jermans-Wife of Clifton, in the
County of Nottingham, who lying in Child-bed, was born away,
and never heard of after.
To the Tune of, The Ladis Fall.
|
YOu dainty Dames so finely fram'd,
|
of beauties chiefest mold,
|
And you that trip it up and down,
|
Like Lambs in Cupids fold:
|
Here is a Lesson to be learn'd,
|
a lesson in my mind,
|
For such as will prove false in love,
|
and bear a faithless mind.
|
Not far from Nottingham of late,
|
in Clifton as I hear,
|
There dwelt a fair and comely Dame,
|
for beauty without peer:
|
Her cheeks were like the crimson Rose,
|
yet as you may perceive,
|
The fairest face the falsest heart,
|
and soonest will deceive.
|
This gallant dame she was belov'd,
|
of many in that place,
|
And many sought in marriage bed,
|
her body to imbrace:
|
A[t] last a proper handsom youth,
|
young Bateman cal'd by name,
|
In hope to make a married wife,
|
unto this maiden came.
|
Such love and liking there was found,
|
that he from all the rest,
|
Had stoln away the Maidens heart,
|
and she did love him best;
|
Then plighted promise secretly
|
did pass between them two,
|
That nothing could but death it self,
|
this true loves knot undo.
|
He brake a piece of Gold in twain,
|
one half to her he gave,
|
The other as a pledge, quoth he,
|
dear heart my self will have.
|
If I do break my Vow, quoth she
|
while I remain alive,
|
May never thing I take in hand
|
be seen at all to thrive.
|
This passed on for two months space,
|
and then this Maid began,
|
To settle love and liking too
|
upon another man:
|
One Jerman who a Widower was,
|
her Husband needs must be,
|
Because he was of greater wealth,
|
and better in degree.
|
Her vows and Promise lately made,
|
to Bateman she deny'd;
|
And in despight of him and his
|
she utterly defi'd:
|
Well then, quoth he, if it be so
|
that you will me forsake,
|
And like a false and forsworn wretch
|
another Husband take.
|
Thou shalt not Live one quiet hour
|
for surely I will have
|
Thee either now alive or dead,
|
when I am laid in grave;
|
Thy faithless mind thou shalt repent,
|
therefore be well assur'd,
|
When for thy sake thou hear'st report,
|
what torments I endur'd.
|
|
|
|
|
|
But mark how Bateman dy'd for love,
|
and finisht up his life,
|
That very day she married was,
|
and made old Jermans wife:
|
For with a strangling Cord God wot,
|
great moan was made therefore,
|
He hang'd himself in desperate sort,
|
before the Brides own door.
|
Whereat such sorrow pierc't her heart,
|
and troubled sore her mind,
|
That she could never after that,
|
one day of comfort find;
|
And wheresoever she did go,
|
her fancy did surmise,
|
Young Batemans pale and ghastly Ghost
|
appear'd before her eyes.
|
When she in bed at night did lye
|
betwixt her Husbands arms,
|
In hope thereby to sleep and rest
|
in safety without harms:
|
Great cries & grievous groans she heard,
|
a voice that sometimes said,
|
O thou art she that I must have;
|
and will not be denay'd.
|
But she then being big with child,
|
was for the Infants sake,
|
Preserved from the spirits power,
|
no vengeance could it take.
|
The Babe unborn did safely keep,
|
as God appointed so,
|
His Mothers body from the Fiend
|
that sought her overthrow.
|
But being of her burden eas'd,
|
and safely brought to Bed,
|
Her care and grief began a new,
|
and further sororw bred.
|
And of her Freinds she did intreat,
|
dessring them to stay,
|
Out of the bed, quoth she this night,
|
I shall be born away.
|
Here comes the spirit of my love,
|
with pale and gastly face,
|
Who till he bear me hence away,
|
will not depart this place:
|
Alive or dead I am his right
|
and he will surely have,
|
In spight of me and all the world,
|
what I by promise gave.
|
O watch with me this night I pray,
|
and see you do not sleep,
|
No longer then you be awake,
|
my body can you keep.
|
All promised to do their best,
|
yet nothing could suffice,
|
In middle of the night to keep,
|
sad slumber from their eyes.
|
So being all full fast asleep,
|
to them unknown which way,
|
The Child-bed woman that woful night
|
from thence was born away:
|
wnd to what place no creature knew,
|
nor to this day can tell,
|
As strange a thing as ever yet,
|
in any age befel.
|
You Maidens that desire to love,
|
and would good Husbands chuse,
|
To him that you do vow to love
|
by no means do refuse.
|
For God that hears all secret Oaths,
|
will dreadful vengeance take,
|
On such that of a wilful vow
|
do slender reckoning make.
|
|
|
|
|