A Warning-piece to England, against Pride and Wickedness; being the Fall of Queen Elanor, wife to Edward the First King of England, who for her Pride and GODs Judgments, sunk into the Ground at Charing-cross, and rose at Queen- high. To the Tune of, Gentle and Courteous,
|
WHen Edward was in England King
|
the First of all that name,
|
Proud Elanor he made his Queen,
|
a stately Spanish Dame:
|
Whose wicked life and sinful Pride,
|
through England did Excel,
|
To dainty Dame and Gallant Maid,
|
this Queen was known full well:
|
She was the first that did invent
|
in Coaches brave to ride,
|
She was the first that brought this Land,
|
to deadly Sin of Pride:
|
No English Taylor here could serve,
|
to make her rich attire.
|
But sent for Taylors into Spain,
|
to feed her vain desire.
|
They brought in Fashions strange & new,
|
with golden garments bright,
|
With Farthingale and mighty Stuff
|
with Gowns of rich delight:
|
Your London Dames in Spanish Pride,
|
did Flourish every-where;
|
Our English Men like Women then,
|
did wear long Locks of Hair.
|
Both Man and Child, both Maid & Wife,
|
were drownd in Pride of Spain,
|
And thought the Spanish Taylors then,
|
our EngIish Men did stain:
|
Whereat the Queen did much despight.
|
to see your English Men
|
In Vestures clad, as brave to see
|
as any Spaniard then,
|
She cravd the King that every man
|
that wore long Locks of Hair,
|
Might then be cut and Polled all,
|
or shaved very near.
|
Whereat the King did seem content,
|
and soon thereto agreed,
|
And first commanded that his own,
|
should then be cut with speed.
|
And after that, to please his Queen,
|
proclaimed through the Land,
|
That every man that wore long Hair,
|
should poll him out of hand:
|
But yet this Spaniard not content,
|
to Woman bore a spight,
|
And then requested of the King,
|
against all Law and Right.
|
That every womankind should have,
|
their right Breast cut away,
|
And then with burnig Irons sear[]d,
|
the blood to stanch and stay!
|
King Edward then perceiving well,
|
her spight to womankind,
|
Devised soon by policy,
|
and turnd her bloody mind.
|
And sent for burning Irons straight,
|
all sparkling hot to see
|
And said, O Queen, come on thy way,
|
I will begin with thee:
|
Which words did much displease the Queen
|
that Penance to begin.
|
But askt him pardon on her knees,
|
who gave her grace therein.
|
But afterwards she chancd to pass,
|
along brave London strrets,
|
Whereas the Mayor of Londons Wife,
|
in stately sort she meets;
|
With Musick, Mirth and Melody,
|
unto the Church they went,
|
To give God thanks that to th Lord Mayor
|
a Noble Son had sent.
|
It grieved much this spitful Queen,
|
to see that any one,
|
Should so exceed in Mirth and Joy,
|
except herself alone;
|
For which she after did devise,
|
within her bloody mind,
|
And practtisd still most secretly,
|
to kill this Lady kind:
|
Unto the Mayor of London then,
|
she sent her Letters straight,
|
To send this Lady to the Court,
|
upon her Grace to wait;
|
But when the London Lady came,
|
before provd Eloners face.
|
She stript her from her rich array,
|
and kept her vile and base.
|
She sent her into Wales with speed,
|
and kept her secret there,
|
And usd her still most cruelly,
|
that ever man did hear:
|
She made her wash she made her starch,
|
she made her drudge always,
|
She made her Nurse up Children small,
|
and labour night and day.
|
But this contented not the Queen,
|
but shewd her most despight,
|
She bound this Lady to a Post,
|
at twelve a clock at night;
|
And as poor Lady she stood bound,
|
the Queen in angry mood,
|
Did set two Snakes unto her Breast,
|
that suckt away her blood.
|
Thus died the Mayor of Londons Wife,
|
most grievous for to hear,
|
Which made the Spaniard grow more proud
|
as after shall appear,
|
The Wheat that made her Bread,
|
was bolted twenty times,
|
The Food that fed this stately Dame,
|
was boiled in costly wines:
|
The water that did spring from Ground,
|
she would not touch at all,
|
But wash her hands with dew of Heaven
|
that on sweet Roses fall;
|
She bathd her body many a time,
|
in Fountains filld with milk,
|
And every day did change Attire,
|
in costly Median Silk.
|
But coming then to London back,
|
within her Coach of Gold,
|
A tempest strange within the skies,
|
this Queen did their behold;
|
Out of which Storm she could not go,
|
but their remaind a space,
|
Four horses could not stir the Coach
|
a foot out of the place.
|
A Judgment lately sent from heaven,
|
for shedding guiltless blood
|
Upon this sinful Queen that slew
|
the London Lady good:
|
King Edward then, as wisdom willd;
|
acousd her of that deed;
|
But she denyd and wisht that God,
|
would send his wrath with speed.
|
If that upon so vile a thing,
|
her heart did ever think,
|
Se wisht the ground would open wide,
|
and she therein might sink:
|
With that at Charing cross she sunk
|
into the ground alive,
|
And after rose with life again,
|
in London at Queen-hith.
|
When after that she languisht sore
|
full twenty days in pain,
|
At last confest the Ladys Blood,
|
her guilty hand had slain;
|
And likewise how that by a Fryar,
|
she had a base-born Child,
|
Whose sinful lust and wickedness,
|
her marriage bed defild.
|
Thus have you heard the fall of Pride,
|
a just reward of Sin.
|
For those that will forswear themselves,
|
Gods vengance daily win;
|
Beware of Pride ye courtly Dames,
|
both wives and maidens all,
|
Bear this imprinted in your mind,
|
that PRIDE must have a fall.
|
|
|
|
|
|