The Norfolke Gentleman his last Will and Testament:
And how hee committed the keeping of his Children to his owne brother,
who dealt most wickedly with them: and how God
plagued him for it.
To the tune of Rogero.
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NOw ponder well you parents deare,
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the words which I shall write,
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A dolefull story you shall heare,
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which time hath brought to light.
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A Gentleman of good account,
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in Norfolke livd of late,
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Whose wealth and riches did surmount
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most men of his estate,
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Sore sicke he was and like to die,
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no helpe that he could have,
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His wife by him as sicke did lie,
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and both possest one grave.
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No love betweene these two was lost,
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each was to other kinde,
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In love they lived, in love they dide,
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and left two Babes behinde.
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The one a fine and pretty Boy,
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not passing three yeares old.
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The next a Girle more young than hee,
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and made of beauties mold.
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This Father left his little sonne,
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as well it doth appeare,
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When hee to perfect age should come,
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three hundred pounds a yeare.
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And to his little daughter Jane,
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three hundred pounds in Gold,
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To be paid downe at marriage day,
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which might not be contrould;
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But if these Children chance to die,
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ere they to age should come,
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Their Uncle should possesse this wealth,
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and so the Will did runne.
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Now Brother said the dying man,
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looke to my Children deare,
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Be good unto my Boy and Girle,
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no friends I else have here.
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To God and you I doe commend
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my Children night and day,
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A little time be sure wee have
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within this world to stay.
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You must be father and mother both,
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and Uncle all in one,
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God knowes what will become of them,
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when wee are dead and gone.
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With that bespake their mother deare,
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O brother mine (quoth shee)
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You are the man must bring my Babes,
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to wealth or misery.
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If you do keepe them carefully,
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then God will you reward,
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If otherwise you seeme to deale,
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your deede God will regard,
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With lips as cold as any clay,
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shee kist her Children small,
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God blesse you both my little lambes,
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with that the teares did fall.
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These speeches then their brother spoke
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to this sick couple there,
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The keeping of your Children young,
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sweet sister do not feare;
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God never prosper mee nor mine,
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or ought else that I have,
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If I do wrong your Children small,
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when you are laid in grave.
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Their Parents being dead and gone,
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the children home hee takes,
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And brings them home unto his house,
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and much of them hee makes.
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Hee had not kept these pretty Babes,
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a twelvemonth and a day:
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But for their wealth hee did devise,
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to make them both away.
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Hee bargaind with two Ruffians rude,
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that were of furious mood,
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That they should take the children youn[g]
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and slay them in the Wood:
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And told his Wife and all the rest,
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he did the Children send,
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To be brought up in faire London,
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with one that was his friend.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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AWay then went these pretty Babes,
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rejoycing of that tide,
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And smiling with a merry minde,
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they should on cockhorse ride.
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They prate and prattle pleasantly,
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as they rode on their way,
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To them that should their butchers bee,
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and worke their lives decay.
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So that the pretty speech they had,
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made murtherers hearts relent,
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And that they tooke this deede to doe,
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full sore they did repent:
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Yet one of them more hard of heart,
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did vow to doe his charge,
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Because the wretch that hired them,
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had paid them very large.
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The other would not gree thereto,
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so here they fell at strife,
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With one another they did fight,
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about these Childrens life
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And he that was of mildest mood,
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did kill the other there,
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Within an unfrequented Wood,
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whiles Babes did quake for feare.
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He tooke the children by the hand,
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when teares stood in their eye,
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And bade them come and goe with him,
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and looke they did not cry.
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And two long miles hee led them thus,
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when they for bread complaine,
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Stay here (quoth he) Ile bring you bread
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when I doe come againe.
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Those pretty Babes with hand in hand,
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went wandering up and downe,
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But never more they saw the man,
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approaching from the towne.
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Their pretty lips with black-berries,
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were all besmeard and dyd,
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And when they saw the darksome night,
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they sate them downe and cryd.
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Thus wandred these two little Babes
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till death did end their greife.
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In one anothers armes they dyd,
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as Babes wanting reliefe.
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No buriall these pretty Babes
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of any man receives,
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Till Robin Redbrest painefully,
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did cover them with leaves,
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And now the heavy wrath of God,
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upon their Uncle fell:
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Yea fearefull fiends did haunt his house
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his conscience felt an hell.
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His barns were fird, his goods consumd,
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his land was barren made,
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His cattle dyd within the fields,
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and nothing with him staid,
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And in the voyage of Portugall,
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two of his sonnes did die,
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And to conclude, himselfe was brought,
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to extreame misery.
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He pawnd and morgagd all his land,
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ere seaven yeares went about.
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And now at length this wicked act,
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did by this meanes come out.
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The fellow which did take in hand,
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the Children for to kill,
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Was for a robery judgd to death,
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as was Gods blessed will,
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Who did confesse the very truth,
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the which is here exprest,
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Their Uncle died, while he for debt,
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in prison long did rest.
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Al you that be Executors made,
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and overseeers eke,
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Of children that be fatherlesse,
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of Infants mild and meeke,
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Take you example by the same,
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and yeeld to each their right,
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Lest God with such like misery,
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your wicked minde requite,
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