An Excellent Ballad of George Barnwel, an Apprentice of London, who was undone by a Strumpet, who having
thrice robbed his Master, and murdered his Uncle in Ludlow, was hanged in Chains in Polonia, and by the
means of a Letter sent from his own hand to the Mayor of London, she was hangd at Ludlow.
The Tune is, The Rich Merchant-Man.
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ALL youths of fair England,
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that dwell both far and neer,
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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 who 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 been 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 dainty gallant 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 declard,
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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 then this.
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In faith my boy, quoth she,
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such news I can thee 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 money in,
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that is my masters due,
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And ere that I do home return,
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ile 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 Mrs. 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 troth with me,
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For thy friends sake, 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 five a clock at night:
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A hundred pound and one,
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with bag under mine arm,
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I went to Mrs. 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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Ruffling in most brave attire,
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her Hoods 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 amazd 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 than, quod she,
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unto this homely place:
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Welcome ten th[o]usand times,
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more welcome then my brother,
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And better welcome I protest,
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then 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 er thou part,
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thou shalt here take 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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art thou so strictly tyd,
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You may not with your dearest friend
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one hour or two abide?
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Fath 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 would thy love require.
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With that she turnd aside,
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and with a blushing red,
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A mournful motion she bewrayd,
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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 stop 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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& 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 not Mistris now,
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but Sara thy true friend,
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Thy servant Sara honouring thee,
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until her life doth end.
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If thou wouldst 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 ner 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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A 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 Sara once again,
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to tell some pleasant tale.
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When she heard me say I,
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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 Sara sure will dye:
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Though long, yet loe at last,
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the pointed time was come,
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That I must with my Sara 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 Sara dear, quoth he,
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Let not my love lament and grieve
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nor sighing pain 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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& thou shalt lack no means of help,
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though forty pounds I spend:
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With that she turnd 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 he knows, quoth she,
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I have it not, tush, rise, quoth I,
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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 pounds straight way.
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All blith and pleasant then,
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to banqueting 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 gave 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 amongst 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 pound that day:
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Then from my master streight,
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I run in secret sort,
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And unto Sara Milwood then
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my state I did report:
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But how she usd 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 willy 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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HEre comes young Barnwel unto,
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sweet Sara his 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 come 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 extreamity
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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 secret here with thee.
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with that she knit & 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 purloynd and 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 sweetheart thou knowst, I said,
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that all which I did get;
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I gave 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 couldst 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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Quod 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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And 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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Is this the love & 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 shews,
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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 fare-well
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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 gauld him in such sort
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it grievd 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, quod she, thou art too quick
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why man I do but jest.
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thinkst thou for all my passed speech
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that I would let thee go?
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Faith no, quoth 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 herk in thine ear,
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Thou shalt not go this night quod she
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what chance so er befall,
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But man wel 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 be-witchd
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& snard 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 or careful thought
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when all my gold is gone,
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In faith my girl we will have more,
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whoever it light upon:
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My fathers rich, why then, quoth 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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that ile rob ere ile want;
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Why then quod Sara they may well
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consider of your scant:
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nay more then 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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Ere I will live in lack (quoth he)
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and have no coyn for thee,
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Ile rob the churl and murder him,
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why should you not (quoth she.)
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Ere 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 my talents grate.
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For without mony, 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 shouldst pursued be
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with twenty hues and cries,
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And with a Warrant searched for
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with Argos 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 100 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 pleasure 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 there
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took order for his stay.
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Directly to his Uncle then,
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he rode with might and main,
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where with good 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 Uncle with fat Cattel 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 comming unto London strait,
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the Country quite forsook.
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To Sara Milwood then he came,
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shewing his store of gold,
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And how he had his Uncle slain,
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to her he plainly told.
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Tush, tis no matter George, quod she
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so we the money have,
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To have good cheer in jolly sort,
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and deck us fine and brave.
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And thus they livd 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 vile disgrace,
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in this my need (quoth he)
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She calld him thief and murderer
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with all the spight 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 shewd 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 and dread, & conscience sting,
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upon him still 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 Saras 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 judgd, condemnd & hangd
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for murder incontinent,
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and there this gallant quean did die
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this was her greatest gains,
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For murder in Polonia
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was Barnwel hangd in chains.
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Lo heres the end of wilful youth,
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that after Harlots haunt,
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Who in the spoyl of other men,
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about the streets do flaunt.
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