The most rare and excellent History
Of the Dutchesse of Suffolkes calamity.
To the tune of Queene Dido.
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WHen God had taken for our sinne,
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that prudent Prince K. Edward away,
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Then bloody Bonner did begin
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his raging malice to bewray,
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All those that did Gods Word professe,
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He persecuted more or lesse.
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Thus whilst the Lord on us did lowre,
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many in prison he did throw,
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Tormenting them in Lollards tower,
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whereby they might the truth forgoe,
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Then Cranmer, Ridley and the rest,
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Were burn'd in fire that Christ profest.
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Smithfield was then with fagots fill'd,
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and many places more besides;
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At Coventry was Saunders killd;
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at Worster eke good Hooper dy'd,
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And to escape this bloody day,
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Beyond Seas many fled away.
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Amongst the rest that sought release,
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and for their faith in danger stood,
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Lady Elizabeth was chiefe
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King Henries daughter of royall blood,
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Which in the Tower did prisoner lye,
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Looking each day when shee should dye,
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The Dutchesse of Suffolke seeing this,
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whose life likewise the tyrant sought,
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Who in the hope of heavenly blisse,
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within Gods Word her comfort wrought,
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For feare of death was faine to flye,
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And leave her house most secretly.
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That for the love of God alone,
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her land and goods she left behind,
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Seeking still for that precious stone
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the Word of truth so rare to find,
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She with her nurse, husband, and child,
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In poore aray their sights beguild,
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Thus through London they past along,
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each one did take a severall street:
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Thus all along escaping wrong,
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at Billingsgate they all did meete:
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Like people poore in Gravesend Barge,
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They simply went with all their charge.
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And all along from Gravesend towne,
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with journies short on foot they went
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Unto the Sea-coast they came downe,
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to passe the Seas was their intent,
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And God provided so that day,
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That they tooke ship and saild away.
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And with a prosperous gale of wind,
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in Flanders safe they did arive,
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This was to their great ease of minde,
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and from their heart much wo did drive
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And so with thankes to God on hie,
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They tooke their way to Germany.
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Thus as they travelld still disguisd
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upon the high way suddenly,
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By cruell theeves they were surprizd,
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assailing their small company.
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And all their treasure and their store
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They tooke away and beat them sore.
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The Nurse in middest of their fight,
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laid downe the child upon the ground,
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She ran away out of their sight.
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and never after that was found.
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Then did the Dutches make great mone,
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With her good husband all alone.
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The theeves had there their horses killd,
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and all their money quite had tooke,
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The pretty Baby almost spoild,
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was by the nurse likewise forsooke:
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And tkey far from their friends did stand,
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And succourlesse in a strange land.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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THe Skie likewise began to scowle,
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it haild and raind in pittious sort,
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The way was long and wondrous foule:
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then may I now full well report;
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Their griefe and sorrow was not small,
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When this unhappy chance did fall.
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Sometimes the Dutches bore the child,
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all wet as ever she could be;
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And when the Lady kind and mild
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was weary, then the child bore he,
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And thus they one another easd,
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And with their fortunes were well pleasd
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And after many weary steps
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all wet shod both in durt and mire,
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after much griefe their hearts yet leaps,
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for labour doth some rest require,
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A towne before them they did see,
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But lodgd therein he could not bee.
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From house to house then they did goe,
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seeking that night where they might lie,
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But want of money was their woe,
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and still their babe with cold did crie:
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With cap and knee they curtesie make,
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But none on them would pitty take.
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Loe here a Princesse of great blood,
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doth pray a peasant for reliefe,
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With teares bedewed as she stood,
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yet few or none regards her griefe.
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Her speech they could not understand,
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But gave her money in her hand.
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When al in vaine their paines were spet,
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and that they could no houseroome get,
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Into a Church porch then they went,
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to stand out of the raine and wet:
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Then said the Dutchesse to her deere,
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O that we had some fire here.
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Then did her husband so provide,
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that fire and coales he got with speed,
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She sate downe by the fire side,
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to dresse her daughter that had need:
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And while she drest it in her lap,
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Her husband made the infant pap.
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Anon the Sexton thither came,
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and finding them there by the fire,
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The drunken knave, all voyd of shame,
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to drive them out was his desire,
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And spurning forth the Noble Dame,
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Her Husbands wrath it did inflame.
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And all in fury as he stood,
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he wrung the Church keyes out his hand:
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And strucke him so that all of blood
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his head ran downe where he did stand
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Wherefore the Sexton presently,
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For helpe and aid aloud did cry.
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Then came the officers in haste;
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and tooke the Dutches and her child,
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And with her husband thus they past,
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like Lambes beset with Tygers wilde,
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And to the Governour were brought,
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Who understood them not in ought.
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Then master Bartu brave and bold,
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in Latine made a gallant speech,
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Which all their misery did unfold,
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and their high favour did beseech,
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With that a Doctor sitting by,
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Did know the Dutches presently.
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And thereupon arising straight,
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with words abashed at this sight:
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Unto them all that there did wait,
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he thus brake forth in words aright:
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Behold within your sight, quoth he,
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A Princesse of most high degree.
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With that the Governour and the rest
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were all amazed the same to heare,
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Who welcomed this new come guest,
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with reverence great, & princely cheere.
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And afterward coveyd they were
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Unto their friend Prince Cassimer.
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A sonne she had in Germany,
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Peregrine Bar[t]u calld by name,
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Surnamd the good Lord Willoughby,
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of courage great and worthy fame:
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Her daughter yong which with her went
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Was afterwards Countesse of Kent.
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For when Queene Mary was deceast
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the Dutches home returnd againe,
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Who was of sorrow quite releast,
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by Queene Elizabeths happy raigne,
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Whose godly life and piety,
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Wee all may praise continually.
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