A
Lamentable Ballad of the LADYs Fall.
To the Tune of, In Peascod Time, etc
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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 Ladys 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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Ere she became 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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Tho he protested to be true,
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And faithful to her still.
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She felt her body alterd quite,
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Her bright hue waxed pale;
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Her fair red cheeks 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 beauteous maiden mild,
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With grievous heart perceivd herself
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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 a silken gown,
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None might her swelling see.
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Unto her love secretly
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She did herself 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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Since 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 extreme,
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In grief always 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 for to get forth
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Out of thy fathers gate.
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Dread not thyself to save my fame,
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And if thou taken be,
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Myself will step between the swords,
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And take the harm on me.
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So shall I escape dishonour quite,
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If so I should be slain:
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What can they say, but that true love,
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Did work a ladys bane?
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And fear not any further harm,
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Myself will so devise,
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That I may 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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Ill meet thee in the dark
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And all alone Ill come to thee,
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Hard by my fathers park.
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And there quoth he, Ill meet,
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If God doth send me life,
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And this day month, 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 wishd for day was come,
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Whereon 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 oer 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 mournful words,
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While 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 sad 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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Woe is the day 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 bitter sigh,
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Homeward she went again,
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No rest came in her watery eyes,
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She felt such bitter pain.
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In travail strong she fell that night.
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With many a bitter throw:
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What woeful pangs she felt that night,
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Doth each good women 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 woes
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Did strait began to weep.
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Weep not, she said, but shut the doors
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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 mistress! call your mother dear,
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Of women you have need;
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And of some skilful midwifes 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 woman here;
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The midwifes help comes now too late,
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My death I do not fear.
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With that the babe sprung from 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 die.
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The living infant then,
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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 woe,
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No joy of them could have.
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Take heed ye dainty damsels all,
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Of flattering words beware;
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And of the honour of your names
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Have you especial care.
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Too true alas, the story is,
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As many a one can tell,
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By others harms learn to be wise,
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And ye shall do full well.
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