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EBBA 32403

Huntington Library - Britwell
Ballad XSLT Template
The purgacion of the ryght honourable lord Went-
worth, concerning the crime layde to his charge, made the .x. of Januarie. Anno.M.D.L.viii.

ALas where is the man,
that liveth and doth not rue:
To see how falsely I am charged,
with thinges that be untrue.

My service true is knowen,
howe ready I have bene:
Both with my body and my goodes,
to serve the Kyng and Quene:

And yet some have devisde,
to charge me with untruth:
which evermore hath bene my shielde,
even from my very youth.

Alas to what intent,
all eyes maye easely see:
That theyr devise and practise is,
to make an ende of mee.

Alas they seeke my lyfe,
and not for my desertes:
But by consent of wycked men,
which have ungodly hartes.

Suche have conspired my death,
as nowe even so beforne:
That I may say wo woorth the tyme,
that ever they were borne.

Alas there is no man,
more innocent then I.
And yet the wicked seeke my lyfe,
and know no just cause why.

For there is not a man,
that lyveth and hath breath:
Can justly say for my untrothe,
that I am worthy death.

Though they say what they please,
as they can wel devise:
Yet all theyr travell in this thyng,
is knowen to be but lyes.

Alas what hartes have they,
that cannot lyve content:
Tyll they have spoyled the lyfe of hym,
that is an innocent.

As touching the sayde cryme.
or any parte therein:
I doo protest for verye thought,
that I am voyde of synne.

But thys wyll not suffise,
to mitigate theyr yre:
Nor nothing els that can be sayde,
wyll pease theyr long desyre.

Yet shall my truthe appeare,
whych they would fayne conceale:
And my obedience to the crowne,
and to the common weale.

Though truth be now subject,
unto a frowarde wyll:
Yet shall it evermore appeare,
I never ment no yll.

Eyther unto my Prince,
to whom I am most bounde:
Nor yet unto the common weale,
but it must needes be founde.

Wherefore I saye alas,
bewaylyng my estate:
A noble pere, a subject true,
rewarded thus with hate.

And thus I make an ende,
wyth woordes that be unfaynde:
Though I am nowe a prysoner,
my truth cannot be staynde.

God keepe our noble Queene,
God prosper her intent:
God shorten all her enmies dayes,
or graunt them to repent.

Thys is the wyshed daye,
to see her in this place:
God graunt us true obedience.
unto her noble grace.


Finis quod John Markant.
Imprinted at London by Owen Ro-
gers, dwellyng in Smithfield. Anno.
M.D.L.ix. the .xxviii. of April.

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