A most sorrowfull Song, setting forth the miserable end of Banister, who
betraied the Duke of Buckingham , his Lord and Master.
To the tune of, Live with me and be my love.
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I F ever wight had cause to rue
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a wretched deede, vilde and untrue,
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Then Banister with shame may sing,
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who sold his life that loved him.
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The noble Duke of Buckingham ,
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his death doth make me sing this song,
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I unto him did them betray,
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that wrought his downfall and decay.
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I him betraid, and none but I,
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for which I sorrow heavily:
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But sorrow now too late doth come,
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for I alone have him undone.
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Whose life I ought to have preserv'd,
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for well of me he is deserv'd,
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That from the dust had lifted me,
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to honour and to dignitie.
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But I these favours did forget,
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when thou with danger wast beset,
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Good Buckingham thy life I sold,
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in hope to have reward of gold.
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From Court unto my house is fled
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Duke Buckingham , to save his head,
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When Richard sought to cast thee downe
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whose hand did help him to the crown.
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But thou foundst treason hid in trust,
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for which I have my guerdon just:
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King Richard caus'd them to proclaime
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a thousand pound the man should gaine
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That Buckingham could first bring in,
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beside the favour of the King:
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This gold and favour drue my heart,
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to play this vile and traiterous part.
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But when this Duke I had betraide
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[I went to] court for to be paide,
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With favour of the King and gold,
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cause I of Buckingham had told.
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But loe I found another thing,
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I was disdained of the King,
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And rated as a varlet base,
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that so betraid the good Dukes grace.
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That me so highly had preferd,
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above the merits I deservd
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Thus shame was all I did receive,
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yet so the King did me not leave.
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When I with sorrow home was gone,
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the King soone sent a Gentleman,
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Whom he did bid take to himselfe,
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my house, my land, and all my wealth.
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Then by the Kings authoritie,
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he tooke both gold and goods from me:
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My selfe, my wife, and children three,
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he turnd us forth without pittie.
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Into the field succour to seeke,
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whilst he my house and land did keepe,
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Thus I for favour purchast hate,
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my deed with shame I rue too late.
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Yet thus my sorrows do not end,
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now God from heaven his scourge doth send
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He to my soule sends double griefe,
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of all my sorrowes it is chiefe.
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Cease, cease all you that doe lament,
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least you my purpose doe prevent,
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I can no jot of sorrow spare,
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for you t'expresse your wofull care.
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Shame, woe, and sorrow doth belong
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to me, then all you do me wrong
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That make such lamentation deepe,
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when none but I have cause to weepe.
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ptitle::start The second part. To the same Tune. ptitle::end
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J[ane Sh]ore , the time I knew full well,
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like me you climbd, like me you fell,
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The Duke did me to honour bring,
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thou wast advanced by the King.
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Thou lovd'st the King whilst he did live
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Fierce death the Duke did give,
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For making then a mournefull song,
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I justly chalenge thee of wrong.
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What though thou felst from high degree
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like me to end in miserie.
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Yet hast thou cause still to be glad,
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and none but I cause to be sad.
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In Court when thou hadst got high place
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for poore men thou didst purchase grace,
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And wouldst not suffer them take wrong,
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although their foes were nere so strong.
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Thou gavest an eare to widowes crie,
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& wip'd the teares from Orphants eye,
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Thou savdst their lives by law condemnd
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and judgde unto a wofull end.
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Thou mourndst when thy sweet Edward dide
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I unto death the Duke betraide,
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Thee Jane why mournst thou in thy song?
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I still do challenge thee of wrong.
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Ile give thee comfort for thy woe,
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so thou thy mourning wilt forgoe,
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And leave thy sad lament to me,
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for it belongeth not to thee.
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What though King Richard with disgrace
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did cast thee from thy loftie place?
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Thy good deeds done doth spread thy fame
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my cursed fact claimes endless shame.
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Cease then from mourning lovely Jane ,
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for thousands thanke thee for thy paine,
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Let sorrow dwell in my sad song,
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to whom it onely doth belong.
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Which song I sing not thee to grieve,
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but that thou maist my woes beleeve,
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This when thou hearest, thou wilt judge,
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all mournefull woe with me must lodge.
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When I like thee by Richard was
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made to the world a looking glasse,
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All hearts with teares thy fall did rue,
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but all did say I had my due.
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Though law did say non should thee give
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some lost their lives thee to relieve,
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When I cride give, men with rebuke
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said, not to him that sold the Duke.
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Thus thou foundst friends thee to relieve
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but when I askt, none would me give:
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Yea God on me a plague did send,
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my Sonnes came both to timeles end.
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My eldest (first through misery)
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did hang himselfe in a pig-stie,
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Whilst over him we sat and mournd,
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my youngest in a ditch was drownd.
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Where we did leave our Children dead,
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above the ground unburied,
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My selfe, my Wife, and Daughter deare,
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did range the countrie far and neere.
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Where ere we came to beg for neede,
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I still was rated for my deede,
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Each one denying to give him bread,
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that sold away his masters head,
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Then we returned home againe,
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at our own doore to end our paine,
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Whilst I sought stickes to make a fire,
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my daughters death brought her desire.
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His Servant which my land possest,
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came first and found my child deceast,
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Mittons young Son my wife there kild,
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his fathers heart with sorrow fild,
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Came forth his only sonne to view,
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whom I with his owne Rapier slew,
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And after this my Wife and I,
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ended our lives in miserie.
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All you that here my wofull song,
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know this though God do suffer wrong
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Yet treason foule he doth abhorre,
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and traitors vilde he doth not spare.
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Yee Christians deare blot not your fame
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with the disgrace of traitors name,
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Which I did carry to my grave,
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and to the worlds end shall it have.
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