A Warning Piece to England against Pride and Wickedness: Being, The Fall of
Queen Eleanor, Wife to Edward the First, King of England, who for her Pride, and Gods Judgments, sunk into the Ground
at Charing-Cross, and rose up with Life at Queen-hith. To the Tune of, Gentle and Courteous.
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WHEN Edward was in England King,
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The First of all that Name,
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Proud Eleanor he made his Queen,
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A stately Spanish Dame;
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Whose wicked Life and sinful Pride,
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Through England did excel,
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To dainty Dame and gallant Maid,
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This Queen was known full well.
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She was the first that did invent
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In Coaches brave to ride;
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She was the first that brought this Land,
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To deadly Sin of Pride.
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No English Taylor here could serve,
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To make her rich Attire,
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But sent for Taylors into Spain,
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To feed her Vain desire.
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They brought in Fashions strange and new,
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With golden Garments bright,
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With Farthingale and mighty Stuff,
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With Gowns of Rich delight.
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Your London Dames in Spanish Pride,
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Did Flourish every where;
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Our English Men like Women then,
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Did wear long Locks of Hair.
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Both Man and Child, both Maid and Wife,
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Were drownd in Pride of Spain,
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And thought the Spanish Taylors then,
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Our English Men did stain;
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Whereat the Queen did much despight,
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To see your English Men
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In Vestures clad, as brave to see
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As any Spaniard then.
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She cravd the King that every Man,
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That wore long Locks of Hair,
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Might then be cut and polled all,
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Or shaved very near.
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Whereat the King did seem content,
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And soon thereto agreed,
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And first commanded that his own,
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Should then be cut with speed.
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And after that, to please the Queen,
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Proclaimed through the Land.
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That every Man that wore long Hair,
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Should poll him out of Hand;
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But yet this Spaniard not content,
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To Woman bore a spight,
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And then requested of the King,
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Against all Law and Right.
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That every Woman kind should have
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Their Right Breast cut away,
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And then with burning Irons seard,
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The Blood to stanch and stay.
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King Edward then perceiving well,
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Her spight to Woman kind,
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Devised soon by Policy,
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And turnd her bloody Mind.
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And sent for burning Irons straight,
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All sparkling hot to see,
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And said, O Queen, come on thy Way,
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I will begin with thee.
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Which Words did much displease the Queen,
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That Penance to begin;
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But askt him Pardon on her Knees,
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Who gave her Grace therein.
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But afterwards she chancd to pass,
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Along brave London Streets,
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Whereas the Mayor of Londons Wife,
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In stately Sort she meets;
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With Musick, Mirth and Melody,
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Unto the Church they went,
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To give God thanks that to th Lord Mayor,
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A noble Son had sent.
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It grieved much this spiteful Queen,
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To see that any one
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Should so exceed in Mirth and Joy,
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Except herself alone;
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For which she after did devise,
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Within her bloody Mind,
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And practisd still most secretly,
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To kill this Lady kind.
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Unto the Mayor of London then,
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She sent her Letters straight,
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To send this Lady to the Court,
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Upon her Grace to wait;
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But when the London Lady came
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Before proud Eleanors Face,
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She stript her from her rich Array,
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And kept her vile and base.
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She sent her into Wales with speed,
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And kept her Secret there,
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And usd her still most cruelly,
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That ever Man did hear.
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She made her wash, she made her starch,
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She made her drudge always,
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She made her Nurse up Children small,
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And labour Night and Day.
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But this contented not the Queen,
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But shewd her most despight,
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She bound this Lady to a Post,
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At Twelve oClock at Night;
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And as poor Lady she stood bound,
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The Queen in angry Mood,
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Did set two Snakes unto her Breast,
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That suckt away her Blood.
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Thus dyd the Mayor of Londons Wife,
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Most grievous for to hear,
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Which made the Spaniard grow more proud,
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As after shall appear.
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The Wheat that made her Bread,
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Was bolted twenty Times;
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The Food that fed this stately Dame,
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Was boiled in costly Wines.
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The Water that did spring from Ground,
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She would not touch at all,
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But wash her Hands with dew of Heaven,
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That on sweet Roses fall;
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She bathd her Body many a Time,
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In Fountain filld with Milk,
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And every Day did change Attire,
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In costly Median Silk.
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But coming then to London back,
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Within her Coach of Gold,
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A Tempest strange within the Skies,
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This Queen did there behold;
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Out of which Storm she could not go,
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But there remaind a Space,
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Four Horses could not stir the Coach
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A Foot out of the Place.
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A Judgment lately sent from Heaven,
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For shedding guiltless Blood,
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Upon this sinful Queen that slew
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The London Lady good;
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King Edward then, as Wisdom willd,
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Accusd her of that Deed;
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But she denyd, and wishd that God
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Would send his Wrath with speed.
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If that upon so vile a Thing,
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Her Heart did ever think;
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She wisht the Ground would open wide,
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And she therein might sink.
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With that at Charing-Cross she sunk
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Into the Ground alive,
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And after rose with Life again,
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In London at Queen-hith.
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When after that she languisht sore,
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Full twenty Days in pain,
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At last confest the Ladys Blood,
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Her guilty Hand had slain;
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And likewise how that by a Fryar,
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She had a base-born Child,
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Whose sinful Lust and Wickedness,
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Her Marriage-bed defild.
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Thus have you heard the Fall of Pride,
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A just Reward of Sin,
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For those that will forswear themselves,
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Gods Vengance daily win
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Beware of Pride ye courtly Dames,
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Both Wives and Maidens all,
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Bear this imprinted in your Mind,
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That Pride must have a Fall.
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