A lamentable Ditty composed upon the Death of Robert Lord Devereux, late Earle of Essex, who was be-
headed in the Tower of London, on Ashwenesday in the morning, 1600. To the tune of Welladay
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SWeet Englands pride is gone,
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welladay, welladay,
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Which makes her sigh and grone
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evermore still:
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He did her fame advance,
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in Ireland Spaine, and France,
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And now by dismall chance,
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is from us tane.
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He was a vertuous Peere,
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welladay, welladay,
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And was esteemed deare,
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evermore still:
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He alwayes helpt the poore.
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which makes them sigh ful sore
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His death they doe deplore,
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in every place.
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Brave honour gracd him still.
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gallantly, gallantly,
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He nere did deed of ill,
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well it is knowne,
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But Envy that foule fiend,
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whose malice nere did end,
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Hath brought true vertues friend
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unto his thrall.
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At Tilt he did surpasse,
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gallantly, gallantly,
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All men that is and was
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evermore still:
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One day as it was seene,
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in honour of our Queene,
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Such deeds hath nere bin seene,
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as he did doe.
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Abroad and eke at home,
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gallantly, gallantly,
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For valour there was none,
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like him before.
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In Ireland, France, and Spaine,
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they feard great Essex name,
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And England lovd the same,
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in every place.
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But all would not prevaile,
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welladay, welladay,
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His deeds did not availe,
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more was the pitty:
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He was condemd to die,
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for treason certainly,
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But God that sits on high,
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kneweth all things.
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That Sunday in the morne,
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welladay, welladay,
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That he to the Citie came,
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with all his troupe:
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That first began the strife
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and causd him lose his life,
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And others did the like,
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as well as he,
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Yet her Princely Majesty,
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graci[o]usly, graciously,
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Hath pardon given free,
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to many of them:
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She hath releasd them quite,
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and given them their right,
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They may pray day and night,
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God to defend her.
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Shrovesunday in the night,
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welladay, welladay,
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With a heavy hearted sprite.
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as it is said:
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The Lieutenant of the Tower,
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who kept him in his power
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At ten a Cloke that houre,
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to him did come.
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And said unto him thore
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mournefully, mournefully,
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My Lord you must prepare,
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to dye to morrow.
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Gods will be done quoth he,
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yet shall you strangely see,
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God strong in me to be,
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though I am weake.
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I pray you pray for me,
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welladay, welladay,
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That God may strengthen me,
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against that houre:
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Them straightway he did call
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to the Guard under the wall
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And did intreat them all
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for him to pray.
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For to morrow is the day,
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welladay, welladay,
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That I the dept must pay,
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which I doe owe:
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It is my life I meane,
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which I must pay my Queene
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Even so hath Justice given,
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that I must dye.
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In the morning he was he brought
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welladay, welladay,
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Where a Scaffold was set up
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within the Tower:
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Many Lords were present then,
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with other Gentlemen,
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Which were appointed then,
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to see him die,
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You Noble Lords quoth he,
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welladay, welladay.
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That must the witnesse be,
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of this my death:
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Know I never lovd Papistry,
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but still did it defie,
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And Essex thus will dye,
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here in this place,
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I have a sinner beene,
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welladay, welladay,
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Yet never wrongd my Queene,
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in all my life:
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My God I did offend,
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which grieves me at my end,
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May all the rest amend,
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I doe forgive them.
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To the State I nere ment ill,
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welladay, welladay,
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Neither wisht the Commons ill,
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in all my life:
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But lovd all with my heart,
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and alwayes tooke their part,
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Whereas there was desart,
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in any place
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Then mildly did he crave,
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mournefully, mournefully,
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He might that favour have,
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private to pray:
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He then praid heartily,
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and with great fervency,
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To God that sits on hie,
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for to receive him.
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And then he praid againe,
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mournfully, mournfully,
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God to preserve his Queene
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from all her foes;
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And send her long to raigne,
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true Justice to maintaine,
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And not to let proud Spaine.
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once to offend her.
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His Gowne he slipt off then
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welladay, welladay,
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And put off his hat and band,
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and hung them by:
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Praying still continually,
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to God that sits on hie,
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That he might patiently,
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there suffer death.
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My headsman that must be,
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then said he chearefully,
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Let him come here to me,
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that I may him see,
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Who kneeled to him then,
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art thou quoth he the man,
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Which art appointed now,
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my life to free.
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Yes my Lord did he say,
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welladay, welladay,
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Forgive me, I you pray,
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for this your death,
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I here doe you forgive,
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and may true Justice live,
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No foule crime to forgive,
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within their place.
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Then he kneeled downe againe,
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mournfully, mournfully,
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And was required by some
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there standing by
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To forgive his enemies,
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before death close his eyes,
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Which he did in hearty wise,
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thanking them for it.
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That they would remember him
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welladay, welladay,
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That he might forgive all them
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that had him wrongd,
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Now my Lords I take my leave
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sweet Christ my soule receive
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Now when you will prepare,
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for I am ready.
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He laid his head on the bloke
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welladay, welladay,
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But his Doublet let the stroak
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some there did say;
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What must be done quoth he,
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shall be done presently,
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Then his doublet off put he,
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and lay downe againe.
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Then his headsman did his par[t]
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cruelly, cruelly,
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He was never seene to start,
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for all the blowes:
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His soule it is at rest.
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in heaven amongst the blest
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Where God send us to rest,
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when it shall please him.
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