Lady ISABELLAs Tragedy;
Or, The Step Mother Cruelty.
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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 while he did in chace 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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The Lord he had a daughter fair,
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Whose beauty shone so bright,
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She was belovd both far and near,
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By many a lord and knight.
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Fair Isabella she was called,
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A creature fair was she,
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She was her fathers only joy,
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As after you shall see,
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But 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 calling of her daughter dear,
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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 the Master Cook,
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These words that I tell thee.
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Go bid him dress for dinner strait,
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The fair and milk white doe,
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Which in the park does shine so bright,
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Theres none so fair a show.
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The lady fearing of no harm,
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Obeyd the mothers will,
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And presently she hastend home,
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Her mind for to fulfil.
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She strait into the kitchen went,
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Her message for to tell,
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And there she spyd the Master Cook,
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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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And that you know full well.
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Then strait his bloody cruel hands,
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He on the lady laid,
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Who quivering and shaking stands,
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While 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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O then, cries out the 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 heavens sake do not murder,
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My mistress with that 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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And if you do this deed betray,
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Thy butcher I will be.
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Now when this lord he did come home,
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Fore he sat down to 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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Into some nunnery she is gone,
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Your daughter now forgot;
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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 drink nor eat,
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Before he did her see.
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O then bespoke the scullion boy,
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With a voice both loud and high,
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If that you would your daughter see,
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Good sir, cut up the pie,
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Wherein her flesh is minced small,
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And parched with the fire,
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All caused by her step-mother,
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Who did her death desire,
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And by the cursed Master Cook,
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O cursed may he be.
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I profferd 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 the cruel step-mother,
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For to be burnt at stake.
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Likewise he judged the Master Cook
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In boiling oil to stand,
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And made the simple scullion boy
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The heir to all his land.
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Their LAMENTATION.
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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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Prompted me to this deed,
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And as 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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Did kill 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 then forthwith was cast,
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And then within a little time,
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The mother went at last,
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From prison to the burning stake,
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And as she past 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 self-same words she said,
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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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And then according to the law,
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She fairly died in 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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