The Lamentation of Master Pages wife of Plimmouth, who being enforced by her Parents to
wed him against her will, did most wickedly consent to his murther, for the love of George Strangwidge;
for which fact she suffered death at Barstable in Devonshire. Written with her owne
hand a little before her death. To the tune of Fortune my Foe.
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UNhappy she whom fortune hath forlorne,
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Despisd of grace, that proffered grace did scorn:
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My lawlesse love that lucklesse wrought my woe,
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My discontent content did overthrow.
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My loathed life too late I doe lament,
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My hatefull deed with heart I doe repent:
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A wife I was that wilfull went awry,
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And for that fault am here prepard to die.
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In blooming yeares my fathers greedy mind,
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Against my will a match for me did find:
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Great wealth there was, yea gold and mony store,
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But yet my heart had chosen long before.
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My eye mislikt my Fathers liking quite:
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My heart did loath my Parents fond delight:
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My grieved mind and fancie told to me,
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That with his age my youth could not agree.
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On knees I cravd they would not me constraine,
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With teares I cride their purpose to restraine:
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With sighs and sobs I did them often move,
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I might not wed whereas I could not love.
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But all in vaine my speeches still I spent,
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My Fathers will my wishes did prevent:
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Though wealthy Page possest my outward part,
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George Strangwidge still was lodged in my heart.
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I wedded was, but wrapped in all woe.
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Great discontents within my heart did grow,
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I loathd to live, yet livd in deadly strife,
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Because perforce I was made Pages wife.
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My chosen eyes could not his sight abide,
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My tender youth did scorne his aged side,
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Scant could I taste the meat whereon he fed,
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My legs did loath to lodge within his bed.
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Cause knew I none I should despise him so,
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That such disdaine within my mind did grow
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Save onely this that fancie did me move,
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And told me still George Strangwidge was my love.
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But here began my downfall and decay,
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In mind I musd to make him straight away,
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I that became his discontented wife,
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Contented was he should be rid of life.
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Me thinkes that heaven cries vengeance for my fact,
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Me thinkes the world condemnes my monstrous act,
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Me thinkes within, my conscience tells me true,
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That for that deed Hellfier is my due.
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My pensive life doth sorrow for my sinne,
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For this offence my soule doth bleed within,
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Yet mercy Lord for mercy doe I cry,
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Save thou my soule, and let my body dye.
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Well could I wish that Page enjoyd his life,
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So that he had some other to his wife,
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But never would I wish of low or hie,
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A longer life, and see sweet Strangwidge die.
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Ah woe is me that had no better grace,
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To stay till he had run out Natures race:
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My deed I rue, but more I doe lament,
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That to the same my Strangwidge gave consent.
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You Parents fond that greedy-minded be,
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And seeke to graft upon a golden tree:
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Consider well, and rightfull Judges be,
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And give your doome twixt Parents love and me.
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I was their child and bound for to obey,
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Yet not to wed where I no love could lay:
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I married was to muck and endlesse strife,
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But faith before had made me Strangwidge wife.
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Ah wretched world which [c]ancred rust doth blinde,
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And cursed men that beare a greedy minde:
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And haplesse I whom Parents did force so,
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To end my dayes in sorrow, shame and woe.
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You Devonshire Dames, and courteous Cornwall Knights,
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That here are come to visit wofull wights:
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Regard my griefe, and marke my wofull end,
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And to your children be a better friend.
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And thou my deare which for my fault must dye,
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Be not afraid the fore of death to try,
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Like as we livd and lovd together true,
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So both at once lets bid the world adue.
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Ulalia thy friend doth take her last farewell,
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Whose soule with thine in heaven shall ever dwell,
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Sweet Saviour Christ doe thou my soule receive,
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The world I doe with all my heart forgive.
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And Parents now, whose mournfull minds doe show
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Your hearts disease and inward heavy woe:
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Mourne you no more, for hope my heart doth tell,
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Ere day be done, that I shall be full well.
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And Plimmouth proud, I bid thee eke farewell,
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Take heed you wives, let not your hands rebell:
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And farewell life wherein such sorrow showes,
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And welcome grave which must my corps inclose.
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And now sweet Lord forgive me my misdeeds,
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Repentance cries for soule that inward bleeds:
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My soule and body I commend to thee,
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That with thy blood from death redeemd it free.
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Lord blesse our King with long and happy life,
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And send true love betwixt each Man and Wife:
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And give all Parents wisedome to foresee,
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The match is marrd where minds doe not agree.
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The Lamentation of George Strangwidge, who for
consenting to the death of Master Page of Plim-
mouth, suffered death at Barstable.
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THe man that sighes and sorrowes for his sinne,
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The corps which care and woe hath wrapped in,
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In dolefull sort records his Swan-like Song,
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That waits for death, and loathes to live so long.
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O Glandfield, cause of my committed crime,
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Snared in wealth, as Birds in bush of lime:
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What cause hadst thou to beare such wicked spight
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Against my good, and eke my Loves delight?
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I would to God thy wisedome had beene more,
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Or that I had not entred in thy doore:
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Or that thou hadst a kinder Father beene,
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Unto thy Child, whose yeares are yet but greene:
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The match unmeete which thou for muck didst make,
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When aged Page thy Daughter home did take:
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Well maist thou rue with teares that cannot dry,
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Which was the cause that foure of us must dye.
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Ulalia faire, more bright than Summers Sunne,
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Whose beauty had my heart for ever won,
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My soule more sobs to thinke of thy disgrace,
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Than to behold mine owne untimely race.
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The deed late done in heart I doe lament,
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But that I lovd, I cannot yet repent:
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Thy seemely sight was ever sweet to me,
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Would God my death would thy excuser be.
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It was for me (alas) thou didst the same,
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On me of right they ought to lay the blame:
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My worthlesse love hath brought my life in scorne,
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Now woe is me that ever I was borne.
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Farewell my love, whose loyall heart was seene,
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Would God thou hadst not halfe so conitant beene:
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Farewell my Love the pride of Plimmouth Towne,
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Farewell the Flower whose beauty is cut downe.
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For twenty yeares great was the cost I know,
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Thy unkind Father did on thee bestow:
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Yet afterward so sore did fortune lowre,
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He lost his joy and Child within an houre.
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My wrong and woe to God I doe commit,
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His was the fault, by matching them unfit:
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And yet my guilt I cannot so excuse,
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I gave consent his life for to abuse.
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Wretch that I am that I consent did give,
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Had I denied, Ulalia still should live:
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Blind fancy said, her suite doe not denie,
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Live thou in blisse, or else in sorrow die.
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O Lord forgive this cruell deed of mine,
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Upon my soule let beames of mercy shine:
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In Justice Lord doe thou no vengeance take,
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Forgive us both for Jesus Christ his sake.
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The Sorrowfull complaint of Mistris Page, for causing
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her husband to be murdered, for the love of George
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Strangwidge, who were executed together.
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IF ever woe did touch a womans heart,
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Or griefe did gall for sinne the inward part:
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My conscience then and heavy heart within,
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Can witnesse well my sorrow for my sinne.
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When yeeres were young my Father forct me wed,
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Against my will, where fancy was not led,
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I was content his pleasure to obey,
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Although my heart was linkt another way.
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Great were the guifts they proffered to my sight,
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With wealth they thought to win me to delight:
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But gold nor guift my heart could not remove,
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For I was linkt whereas I could not love.
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Me thought his sight was loathsome to my eye,
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My heart did grudge against him inwardly:
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This discontent did cause my deadly strife,
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And with his wealth I livd a loathsome life.
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My constant love was on young Strangwidge set,
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And woe to them that did our welfare let:
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His love to me so deepe a roote did take,
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I could have gone a begging for his sake.
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Wronged he was even through my Parents plaine,
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Wronged he was through fond desire of gaine,
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If faith and troth a perfect Judge might be,
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I had beene wife unto no man but he.
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Eternall God forgive my faithlesse deed,
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And grant all Maidens to take better heed,
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If I had constant beene unto my friend,
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I had not matcht to make so bad an end.
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But wanting grace, I sought my owne decay,
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And was the cause to cast my friend away:
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And he in whom my earthly joyes did lie,
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Through my amisse, a shamefull death must die.
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Farewell sweet George, my loving faithfull friend,
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Needes must I laud and love thee to the end,
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And albeit that Page possest thy due,
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In sight of God thou wast my Husband true.
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My watry eyes unto the heavens I bend,
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Craving of Christ his mercy to extend:
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My bloody deed, O Lord, doe me forgive,
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And let my soule within thy Kingdome live.
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Farewell false World, and friends that fickle be,
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All wives farewell, example take by me:
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Let not the Devill to murder you entice:
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Seeke to escape each foule and filthy vice.
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And now, O Christ, to thee I yeeld my breath,
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Strengthen my faith in bitter pangs of death.
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Forgive my faults and follies I thee pray,
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And with thy blood wash thou my sinnes away,
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