A Lamentable Ballad of the Ladies Fall.
Declaring how a Gentlewoman through her too much trust came to her end, and how
her Lover slew himself.
The Tune is, In Pescod time.
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MArk well my heavy doleful Tale,
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you Loyal Lovers all.
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And heedfully bear in your breast
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a gallant Ladies fall:
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Long was she wood ere she was won,
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to lead a wedded life,
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But folly wrought her overthrow,
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before she was a wife.
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Too soon alas she gave consent
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to yield unto his will,
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Though he protested to be true,
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and faithful to her still:
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She felt her body altered quite,
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her bright hue waxed pale,
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Her fair red cheeke turnd colour white,
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her strength began to fail.
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So that with many a sorrowful sigh,
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this beautious Maiden mild,
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With grievous heart perceivd her self
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to be conceivd with Child:
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She kept it from her fathers sight,
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as close as close might be,
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And so put on her silken gown,
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none might her swelling see.
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Unto her Lover secretly
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she did her self bewray,
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And walking with him hand in hand,
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these words to him did say:
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Behold, said she, a Maids distress,
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my love, brought to thy bow,
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Behold I go with Child by thee,
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but none thereof doth know.
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The little Babe springs in my womb
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to hear the Fathers voice,
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Let it not be a Bastard calld,
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sith I made thee my choice:
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Come, come, my love, perform thy vow
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and wed me out of hand,
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O leave me not in this extream,
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in grief alwayes to stand.
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Think on thy former promise made,
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thy vows and oaths each one,
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Remember with what bitter tears
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to me thou madst thy moan:
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Convey me to some secret place,
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and marry me with speed,
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Or with thy Rapier end my life,
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ere further shame proceed.
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Alas my dearest Love, quoth he,
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my greatest joy on earth,
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Which way can I convey thee hence,
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without a sudden Death?
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Thy friends they be of high degree,
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and I of mean estate,
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Full hard it is to get thee forth
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out of thy Fathers gate.
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Dread not thy self to save my fame,
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and if thou taken be,
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My self will step between the Swords,
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and take the harm on me:
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So shall I scape Dishonour quite,
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if so I should be slain,
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What could they say? but that true love
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did work a Ladies Bane.
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ANd not fear any further harm,
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my self will so devise,
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That I will go away with thee,
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unseen of mortal eyes:
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Disguised like some pretty Page,
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Ile meet thee in the dark,
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And all alone Ile come to thee,
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hard by my Fathers Park.
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And there, quoth he, Ile meet my love,
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if God do lend me life,
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And this day moneth without all fail,
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I will make thee my wife:
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Then with a sweet and loving kiss,
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they parted presently,
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And at their parting brinish tears,
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stood in each others eye.
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At length the wished day was come,
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whereas this lovely Maid,
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With lovely eyes, and strange attire,
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for her true lover staid:
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When any person she espyd,
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come riding ore the plain,
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She thought it was her own true love,
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but all her hopes were vain.
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Then did she weep and sore bewail
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her most unhappy state,
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Then did she speak these woful words
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when succourless she sat:
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O false forsworn and faithless wretch,
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disloyal to thy love,
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Hast thou forgot thy promise made,
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and wilt thou perjurd prove?
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And hast thou now forsaken me
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in this my great distress,
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To end my days in open shame,
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which thou mightst well redress?
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Wo worth the time I did believe
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that flattering tongue of thine,
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Would God that I had never seen,
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the tears of thy false Eyne.
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And thus with many a sorrowful sigh
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homewards she went again,
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No rest came in her watry Eyes,
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she felt such bitter pain.
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In travel strong she fell that night,
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with many a bitter throw,
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What woful pangs she felt that night
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doth each good woman know.
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She called up her waiting-Maid,
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that lay at her Beds-feet,
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Who musing at her Mistress woe,
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did strait begin to weep:
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Weep not, said she, but shut the door,
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and windows round about
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Let none bewail my wretched case,
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but keep all persons out.
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O Mistriss call your Mother dear,
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of women you have need,
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And of some skilful Mid-wives help,
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the better you may speed:
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Call not my Mother for thy life,
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nor call no women here,
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The Mid-wives help comes now too late
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my death I do not fear.
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with that the babe sprang in her womb
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no Creature being nigh,
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And with a sigh that broke her heart,
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this gallant dame did dye:
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This living little Infant young,
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the mother being dead,
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Resignd his new received breath,
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to him that had him made.
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Next morning came her Lover true,
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affrighted at this news,
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And he for sorrow slew himself,
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whom each one did accuse:
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The mother with the new born Babe,
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were both laid in one grave,
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Their Parents overcome with wooe,
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no joy of them could have.
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Take heed you dainty damosels all
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of flattering words beware,
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And of the honour of your name
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have you a special care:
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Too true alas this story is,
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as many one can tell,
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By others harms learn to be wise,
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and thou shalt do full well.
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