A lamentable new Ballad upon the Earle of Essex his death.
To the tune of, Essex last good night.
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ALL you that cry, O hone O, hone,
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come now and [s]ing, O Lord with me,
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For why our Jewell is from us gone,
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the valiant Knight of Chivalry:
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Of rich and poore belovd was he,
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in time an honourable Knight:
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When by our Lawes condemned was he,
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and lately tooke his la[st]good-night.
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Count him not like to Campion,
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(these traiterous men) or Babington,
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Nor like the Eale of Wesmerland,
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by whom a number wee undone:
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He never yet hurt mothers son,
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his quarrell still maintaind the right,
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Which makes the teares my cheekes down run
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when I thinke on his last good-night.
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The Portingals can witness[es] be.
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his Dagger at Lisbone gate he flung:
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And like a Knight of Chivalry,
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his Chaine upon the same he hung:
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Would God that he would thither come,
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to fetch them both in honor right,
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Which thing was by his honour done,
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yet lately tooke his last good-night.
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The Frenchmen they can testifie,
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the Towne ot Gourney he tooke in,
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And marchd to Roane immediately.
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not caring for his foes a pin:
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With bullets then he piercd their skin,
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and made them flee farre from his sight,
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He at that time did credit win,
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and now hath tane his l[a]st good-night.
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And stately Cales can witnesse well,
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euen by his Proclamatio[n] right:
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He did command them all straightly,
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to have a care of Infants [l]ives;
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That none should ravish M[ai]d nor Wife,
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which was against their o[rd]er right,
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Therefore they prayd for his [lo]ng life,
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which lately tooke his last g[o]od-night.
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Would God he had nere Ireland knowne,
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nor set his feet on Flaunders ground:
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Then might we well enjoy our owne,
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where now our Jewell will not be found,
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Which makes our woes still to abound,
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trickling with salt teares in our sight,
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To heare his name in our eares to sound,
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Lord Devereux tooke his last good-nigh[t.]
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Ashwensday on that dismall day,
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when he came forth of his chamber doors
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Upon a Scaffold there he saw.
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his headsman standing him before,
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The Nobles all they did deplore,
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shedding their salt teares in his sight,
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He said farewell to rich and poore,
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at his good-morrow and good-night.
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My Lords quoth he, you stand but by,
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to see performance of the Law,
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Its I that have deserved to die,
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and yeeld my life unto the blow,
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I have deservd to die, I know,
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but nere against my Countries right,
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Nor to my Queene was never foe,
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upon my death at my good-night.
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Farewell Elizabeth my gracious Queene,
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God blesse thee and thy Councell all:
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Farewell yon Knights of Chivalry,
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farewell my Souldiers stout and tall,
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Farewell the Commons great and small,
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into the hands of men I light,
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My life shall make amends for all,
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for Essex bids the world good-night.
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Farewell deare wife and children three,
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farewell my young and tender son,
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Comfort your selves, mourne not for me,
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although your fall be now begun:
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My time is come the glasse is run
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comfort your selves in former light,
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Seeing by my fall you are undone,
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your father bids the world good-night[.]
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Derick, thou knowest, at Cales I savd
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thy life, lost for a Rape there done,
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Which thou thy selfe canst testifie,
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thine owne hand three and twenty h[ung,]
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But now thou seest my life is come,
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by chance into thy hands I light,
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Strike out the blow that I may know,
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thou Essex lovd at his good-night.
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When England counted me a Papist,
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the works of Papists I defie,
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I nere worshipt Saint, nor Angell in hea[ven]
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nor to the Virgin Mary I,
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But to Christ, which for my sinnes did di[e]
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trickling with sad teares in his sight,
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Spreading my armes to God on high,
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Lord Jesus receive my soule this night.
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