An Excellent Ballad of George Barnwel an Apprentice in Lon-
don , who was undone by a Strumpet, who thrice Robbed his Master, and Murdered
his Uncle in Ludlow . The Tune is, The Merchant .
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A LL Youths of fair England ,
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that dwell both far and near,
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Regard my Story that I tell
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and to my Song give ear:
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A London Lad I was,
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a Merchants Prentice bound,
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My name George Barnwel , that did spend
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my Master many a pound.
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Take heed of Harlots then,
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and their inticing trains,
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For by that means I have bin brought
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to hang alive in Chains.
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As I upon a Day
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was walking through the street,
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About my Masters business,
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I did a wanton meet,
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A gallant dainty Dame,
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and sumptuous in attire,
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With smiling looks she greeted me,
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and did my name require:
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Which when I had declar'd,
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she gave me then a kiss
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And said if I would come to her,
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I should have more than this:
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In faith my Boy (quoth she)
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such news I can you tell,
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As shall rejoyce thy very heart,
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then come where I do dwell.
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Fair Mistris, then said I,
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if I the place may know,
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This evening I will be with you,
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for I abroad must go
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To gather Monies in,
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that is my Masters due,
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And e're that I do home return,
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i'le come and visit you.
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Good Barnwel , then (quoth she)
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do thou to Shoreditch come,
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And ask for mistris Milwood there,
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next door unto the Gun.
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And trust me on my truth,
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if thou keep touch with me,
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For thy Friends sake, and as my own heart
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thou shalt right welcome be.
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Thus parted we in peace,
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and home I passed right,
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Then went abroad and gathered in
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by six a Clock at night.
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An hundred pound and one,
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with Bag under my arm,
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I went to Mistris Milwoods house,
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and thought on little harm:
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And knocking at the door,
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straightway her self came down,
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Rustling in most brave attire,
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her Hood and silken Gown.
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Who through her beauty bright,
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so gloriously did shine,
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That she amaz'd my dazling eyes,
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she seemed so divine.
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She took me by the hand,
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and with a modest grace,
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Welcome sweet Barnwel, then (quod she,
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unto this homely place:
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Welcome ten thousand times,
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more welcome then my Brother,
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And better welcome I protest
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than any one or other:
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And seeing I have thee found
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as good as thy word to be,
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A homely Supper e're thou part,
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thou shalt take here with me:
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O pardon me (quoth I)
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fair Mistris I you pray,
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For why, out of my Masters house
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so long I dare not stay.
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Alas good Sir she said,
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are you so strictly ty'd,
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You may not with your dearest friend
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one hour or two abide?
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Faith then the case is hard,
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if it be so (quoth she)
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I would I were a Prentice bound,
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to live in house with thee.
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Therefore my sweetest George ,
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list well what I do say,
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And do not blame a woman much,
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her fancy to bewray.
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Let not affections force,
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be counted lewd desire,
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Nor think it not immodesty
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I should thy love require.
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With that she turn'd aside,
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and with a blushing red,
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A mournful motion she bewray'd,
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by holding down her head:
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A Handkerchief she had
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all wrought with Silk and Gold,
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Which she to stay her trickling tears,
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against her eyes did hold.
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This thing unto my sight
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was wondrous rare and strange,
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And in my mind and inward thoughts
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it wrought a sudden change:
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That I so hardy was,
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to take her by the hand,
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Saying, sweet Mistris why do you
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so sad and heavy stand?
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Call me no Mistris now,
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but Sarah thy true friend,
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Thy servant Sarah honouring thee
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until her life doth end:
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If thou would'st here alledge
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thou art in years a Boy,
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So was Adonis , yet was he
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fair Venus love and joy.
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Thus I that ne'r before
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of woman found such grace,
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And seeing now so fair a Dame
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give me a kind imbrace.
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I supt with her that night
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with joys that did abound,
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And for the same paid presently,
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in money twice three pound:
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An hundred Kisses then,
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for my farewel she gave,
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Saying sweet Barnwel when shall I
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again thy company have:
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O stay not too long my dear,
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sweet George have me in mind:
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Her words bewitcht my childishness,
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she uttered them so kind.
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So that I made a vow,
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next Sunday without fail.
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With my sweet Sarah once again
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to tell some pleasant Tale.
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When she heard me say so,
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the tears fell from her eyes,
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O George , quoth she, if thou dost fail,
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thy Sarah sure will dye.
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Though long, yet loe at last,
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the 'pointed day was come,
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That I must with my Sarah meet,
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having a mighty sum
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Of Money in my hand,
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unto her house went I,
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Whereas my Love upon her bed
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in saddest sort did lye,
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What ails my hearts delight,
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my Sarah dear, quoth I ,
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Let not my Love lament and grieve,
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nor sighing pine and dye,
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But tell to me my dearest friend,
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what may thy woes amend,
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And thou shalt lack no means of help,
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though forty pound I spend,
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With that she turn'd her head
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and sickly thus did say,
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O my sweet George my grief is great
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ten pounds I have to pay
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Unto a cruel Wretch,
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and God knows quoth she,
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I have it not, Tush rise quoth he,
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and take it here of me:
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Ten pounds, nor ten times ten
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shall make my love decay,
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Then from his Bag into her lap,
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he cast ten pound straightway.
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All blith and pleasant then,
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to banquetting they go,
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She proffered him to lye with her,
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and said it should be so:
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And after that same time,
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I have her store of Coyn,
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Yea, sometimes fifty pound at once,
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all which I did purloyn.
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And thus I did pass on,
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until my Master then,
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Did call to have his reckoning in
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cast up among his Men.
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The which when as I heard,
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I knew not what to say,
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For well I knew that I was out
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two hundred pounds that day.
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Then from my Master straight
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I ran in secret sort,
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And unto Sarah Milwood then
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my state I did report.
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But how she us'd this Youth,
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in this his extream need,
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The which did her necessity
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so oft with Money feed:
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The Second Part behold,
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shall tell it forth at large,
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And shall a Strumpets wily ways,
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with all her tricks discharge
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The Second Part, to the same Tune.
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H Ere comes young Barnwel unto thee
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sweet Sarah my delight,
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I am undone except thou stand
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my faithful friend this night:
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Our Master to command accounts,
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hath just occasion found,
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And I am found behind the hand
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almost two hundred pound:
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And therefore knowing not at all,
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what answer for to make,
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And his displeasure to escape,
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my way to thee I take:
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Hoping in this extremity,
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thou wilt my succour be,
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That for a time I may remain
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in safety here with thee.
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With that she nit and bent her brows,
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and looking all aquoy,
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Quoth she, what should I have to do
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with any Prentice Boy?
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And seeing you have purloyn'd & got
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your Masters goods away,
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The case is bad, and therefore here
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I mean thou shalt not stay
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Why sweet heart thou knowst, he said
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that all which I did get,
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I have it and did spend it all
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upon thee every whit:
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Thou knowst I loved thee so well,
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thou could'st not ask the thing,
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But that I did incontinent
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the same unto thee bring.
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Quoth she thou art a paultry Jack ,
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to charge me in this sort,
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Being a Woman of credit good,
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and known of good report:
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A nd therefore this I tell thee flat,
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be packing with good speed,
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I do defie thee from my heart,
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and scorn thy filthy deed.
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I s this the love and friendship which
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thou didst to me protest?
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Is this the great affection which
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you seemed to express?
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Now fie on all deceitful shows,
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the best is I may speed.
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To get a Lodging any where,
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for money in my need:
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Therefore false woman now farewel,
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while twenty pound doth last,
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My anchor in some other Haven
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I will with wisdom cast.
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When she perceived by his words.
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that he had money store,
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That she had gull'd him in such sort,
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it griev'd her heart full sore:
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Therefore to call him back again,
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she did suppose it best.
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Stay George quoth she, thou art too quick
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why man I do but jest;
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Think'st thou for all my passed speech
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that I would let thee go?
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Faith no. quod she, my love to thee
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I wis is more then so.
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You will not deal with Prentice boys
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I heard you even now swear,
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Therefore I will not trouble you,
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my George heark in thine ear.
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Thou shalt not go to night quod she,
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what chance so e're befall,
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But man we'l have a bed for thee,
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or else the Devil take all.
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Thus I that was with wiles bewitcht
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and shar'd with fancy still.
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Had not the power to put away.
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or to withstand her will.
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Then wine and wine I called in,
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and cheer upon good cheer,
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And nothing in the world I thought
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for Sarahs love too dear:
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Whilst I was in her company
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in joy and merriment,
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And all too little I did think,
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that I upon her spent.
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A fig for care and careful thoughts,
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when all my Gold is hone,
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I n faith my Girl we will have more,
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whoever it light upon.
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My Father's rich, why then, quod I ,
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should I want any Gold?
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With a Father indeed, quoth she,
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a Son may well be bold.
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I have a Sister richly wed,
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i'le rob her e're i'le want;
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Why then, quod Sarah , they may well
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consider of your scant.
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Nay more than this, an Uncle I have
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at Ludlow he doth dwell,
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He is a Grasier, which in wealth
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doth all the rest excell:
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E're I will live in lack, quoth he,
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and have no Coyn for thee,
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I 'le rob his House, and murder him,
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why should you not, quoth she:
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E're I would want were I a man,
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or live in poor Estate,
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On Father, friends, and all my Kin,
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I would be Talons grate:
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For without money, George , quod she,
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a Man is but a Beast,
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And bringing Money thou shalt be
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always my chiefest Guest.
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For say thou should'st pursued be
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with twenty Hues and Crys,
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And with a Warrant searched for
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with Argus hundred Eyes:
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Yet in my House thou shalt be safe,
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such privy ways there be,
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That if they sought an hundred years
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they could not find out thee.
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And so carousing in their Cups,
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their pleasures to content,
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George Barnwel had in little space
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his money wholly spent.
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Which being done, to Ludlow then
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he did provide to go,
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To rob his wealthy Uncle then,
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his Minion would it so
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And once or twice he thought to take
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his Father by the way,
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But that he thought his master had
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took order for his stay.
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D irectly to his U ncle then
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he rose with might and main,
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Where with welcome and good cheer
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he did him entertain:
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A Sennets space he stayed there,
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until it chanced so,
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His U nkle with his Cattle did
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unto a market go:
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His Kinsman needs must Ride with him,
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and when he saw right plain,
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Great store of money he had took,
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in coming home again,
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Most suddenly within a Wood
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he struck his Uncle down,
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And beat his brains out of his head,
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so sore he crackt his crown:
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And fourscore pound in ready coyn
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out of his Purse he took,
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And coming into London Town,
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the Country quite forsook.
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To Sarah Milwood then he came,
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shewing his store of Gold,
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And how he had his Uncle stain,
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to her he plainly told.
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Tush, it's no matter George , quod she,
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so we the money have,
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To have good chear in jolly sort,
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and deck us fine and brave.
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And this they liv'd in filthy sort,
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till all his store was gone,
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And means to get them any more,
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I wis poor George had none.
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And therefore now in railing sort,
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she thrust him out of door,
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Which is the just reward they get,
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that spend upon a Whore.
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O do me not this foul disgrace
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in this my need, quoth he,
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She call'd him Thief and Murderer,
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with all despight might be.
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And to the Constable she went
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to have him Apprehended,
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And shew'd in each degree how far
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he had the Law offended.
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When Barnwel saw her drift,
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to Sea he got straightway,
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Where fear & dread & conscience sting
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upon himself doth stay:
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Unto the Mayor of London then,
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he did a Letter write,
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Wherein his own and Sarahs faults
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he did at large recite.
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Whereby she apprehended was,
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and then to Ludlow sent,
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Where she was judg'd, condemn'd and hang'd,
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for murder incontinent.
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And there this gallant Quean did dye
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this was her greatest gains:
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For Murder in Polonia ,
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was Barnwel hang'd in Chains.
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Lo, here's the end of wilful youth,
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that after Harlots haunt,
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Who in the spoil of other men,
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about the streets do flaunt.
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