THE
Lady ISABELLAs Tragedy;
OR,
The STEP-MOTHERs Cruelty.
BEING,
A Relation of a Murder committed on the Body of a young Lady, the only Daughter
of a Duke, occasiond by her Step-Mother, and acted by the Cook. Together with their Confessions
and Lamentations.
Tune of, The Ladys Fall, etc.
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THere was a Lord of worthy Fame,
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And a Hunting he would ride,
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Attended by a noble Train
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Of Gentry by his Side;
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And whilst he did in Chase remain,
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To see both Sport and Play,
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His Lady went, as she did feign,
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Unto the Church to pray.
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This Lord he had a Daughter fair,
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Whose Beauty shind so bright
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She was belovd both far and near,
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Of many a gallant Knight:
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Fair Isabella was she calld,
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A Creature fair was she,
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She was her Fathers only Joy,
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As you shall plainly see.
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But yet her cruel Step-Mother,
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Did envy her so much,
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That Day by Day she sought her Life,
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Her Malice it was such:
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She bargaind with the Master-Cook,
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To take her Life away;
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And taking of the Daughters Book,
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She thus to her did say:
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Go Home, sweet Daughter, I thee pray,
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Go hasten presently,
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And tell unto the Master-Cook,
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These Words that I tell thee:
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And bid him dress to Dinner straight,
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That fair and Milk-white Doe,
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That in the Park doth shine so bright,
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Theres none so fair to show.
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This Lady fearing of no Harm,
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Obeyd her Mothers Will,
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And presently she hasted home,
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Her Mind for to fulfil:
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She Straight into the Kitchen went,
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Her Message for to tell,
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And there the Master-Cook she spyd,
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Who did with Malice swell.
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Now Master-Cook, it must be so,
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Do that which I thee tell;
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You needs must dress the Milk-white Doe,
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Which you do know full well:
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Then straight his cruel bloody Hands,
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He on the Lady laid,
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Who quivering and shaking stands,
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Whilst thus to her he said.
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Thou art the Doe that I must dress,
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See here, behold my Knife,
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For it is pointed presently,
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To rid thee of thy Life.
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Oh! then cryd out thee Scullion Boy,
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As loud as loud might be,
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O save her Life, good Master-Cook,
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And make your Pies of me.
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For Pitys Sake do not destroy
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My Lady with your Knife,
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You know she is her Fathers Joy,
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For Christs Sake save her Life.
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I will not save her Life, said he,
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Nor make my Pies of thee;
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Yet if thou dost the Deed bewray,
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Thy Butcher I will be.
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Now when the Lord he did come home,
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For to sit down and eat,
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He called for his Daughter dear,
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To come and carve his Meat:
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Now sit you down, his Lady said,
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O sit you down to Meat,
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Into some Nunnery she is gone.
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Your Daughter dear forget.
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Then solemnly he made a Vow,
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Before the Company,
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That he would neither eat nor drink,
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Until he did her see:
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Oh! then bespoke the Scullion Boy,
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With a loud voice so high,
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If that you will you Daughter see,
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My Lord cut up that Pie.
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Wherein her Flesh is minced small,
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And perched with the Fire;
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And caused by her Step-Mother,
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Who did her Death desire:
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And cursed be the Master-Cook,
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Oh cursed may he be,
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I proferd him my own Hearts Blood,
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From Death to set her free.
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Then all in black this Lord did mourn,
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And for his Daughters Sake,
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He judged for her Step-Mother,
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To be burnt at a Stake;
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Likewise he judgd the Master-Cook,
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In boiling Oil to stand:
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He made the simple Scullion-Boy,
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The Heir to all his Land.
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NOW when the wicked Master-Cook,
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Beheld his Death draw near,
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And that by Friends he was forsook,
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He pourd forth many a Tear,
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Saying, The Lady whom I servd
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Prompt me to do this Deed,
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And as a Death I have deservd,
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Tis coming on with Speed.
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I must confess these Hands of mine,
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Destroyd the Innocent;
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When her dear Breath she did resign;
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My Heart did not relent.
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This said, into the boiling Oil
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He presently was cast,
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And then within a little While,
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The Lady went at Last.
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From Prison to the burning Stake,
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And as she passd along,
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She did sad Lamentation make
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Unto the numerous Throng:
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These were the very Words she spoke,
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The Daughter of my Lord
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I doomd to Death, the Laws I broke,
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And shall have my Reward.
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Then to the burning Stake they tyd
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The worst of all Step-Dames,
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Where by the Laws she fairly dyd,
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In Smoak and burning Flames.
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Now let their Deaths a Warning be
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To all that hear this Song:
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And thus I end my Tragedy,
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The Duke he mourned long.
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