A Lamentable Ballad of Little Musgrove, and the Lady Barnet.
To an Excellent new Tune.
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AS it fell out on a high Holy-day,
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as many more be in the year,
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Musgrove would to the Church and pray,
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to see the fair Lady's there:
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Gallants there were of good degree,
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for beauty exceeding fair,
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Most wondrous lovely to the eye,
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which did to the Church repair.
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Some came down in red Velvet,
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and some came down in Pall,
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Then next came down my Lady Barnet,
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the fairest amongst them all;
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She cast a look on little Musgrove,
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as bright as the Summers Sun,
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Full well then perceived little Musgrove,
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Lady Barnets love he had won.
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The Lady Barnet meek and mild,
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saluted the little Musgrove,
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Who did reply her kind Courtesie,
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with favour and gentle love:
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I have a Bower in merry Barnet,
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bestrewed with Couslips sweet,
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If that you please little Musgrove,
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in love me there to meet.
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Within my arms one night to sleep,
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for you my love have won,
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You need not fear my suspicious Lord,
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for he from home is gone:
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Betide my life betide my death,
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this night I will lye with thee,
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And for thy sake I'll hazard my breath,
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so dear is thy love to me.
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What shall we do with our little Foot-page,
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our Counsel for to keep,
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And watch for fear Lord Barnet come,
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while we together sleep:
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Red gold shall be his hire, quoth he,
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and silver shall be his fee.
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So he our counsel safely keep,
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that I may sleep with thee.
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I will have none of your gold, he said,
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nor none of your silver fee,
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If I should keep your counsel Sir,
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great Disloyalty:
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I will not be false unto my Lord,
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for house nor yet for land.
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But if my Lady prove untrue,
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Lord Barnet shall understand.
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Then swiftly ran this little Foot-page,
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unto his Lord with speed,
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He then was feasting with his own Friends,
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not dreaming of this deed,
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Most speedily the Page did haste,
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most swiftly he did run,
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And when he came to the broken Bridge,
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he bent his breast and swam.
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The Page did make no stay at all,
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but went to the Lord with speed,
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That he the truth might tell to him,
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concerning this wicked deed:
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He found his Lord at supper then,
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great merriment they did keep,
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My lord, quod he, this night on my word,
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Musgrove with your lady doth sleep.
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IF this be true my little Foot-page,
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and true that thou tellest to me,
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My eldest Daughter I'll give thee,
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and wedded thou shalt be:
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If this be a lye my little Foot-page,
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and a lye thou tellest to me,
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A new pair of gallows shall be set up,
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and hanged thou shalt be.
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If this be a lye, my lord, said he,
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and a lye that thou hearest of me,
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Never stay a pair of gallows to make,
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but hang me upon the next Tree:
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Lord Barnet call'd his merry men all,
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away with speed he would go;
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His heart was so perplext with grief,
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the truth of this he must know.
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Saddle your horses with speed, he said,
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and saddle me my white Steed,
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If this be true as the Page hath said,
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Musgrove shall repent this deed:
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He charged his men to make no noise,
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as they rode along the way,
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Nor wind no horn (quoth he) for your life,
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least our coming it should betray.
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But one of them that Musgrove did love,
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and respected his friendship most dear,
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To give notice lord Barnet was come,
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did wind the Bugle most clear:
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And evermore as he did sound
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away Musgrove and away,
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For if he take thee with my lady,
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then slain thou shalt be this day.
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O hark fair lady, your lord is near,
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I hear his little horn blow,
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And if he find me in your Arms thus,
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then slain I shall be I know:
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O lye still, lye still, little Musgrove,
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and keep my back from the cold,
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I know it is my Fathers Shepherd,
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driving Sheep unto the Pinfold.
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Musgrove did turn him round about,
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sweet slumber his eyes did greet,
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When he did awake then did he espy,
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lord Barnet at the beds-feet:
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O rise up, rise up, thou little Musgrove,
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and put thy cloathing on,
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It never shall be said in England fair,
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that I slew a naked man.
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Here is two Swords, lord Barnet said,
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Musgrove thy choice now make.
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The best of them thy self shall have,
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and I the worst will take:
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The first blow Musgrove did strike,
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he wounded lord Barnet sore,
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The second blow lord Barnet gave,
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Musgrove could strike no more.
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He took his lady by the white hand,
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all love to rage tonvert,
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And with his Sword in furious wise,
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he pierc'd her tender heart:
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A grave, a grave, lord Barnet cry'd,
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prepare to lay us in,
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My lady shall lye on the upper side,
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cause she's the better Skin.
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Then suddenly he slew himself,
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which griev'd his friends full sore,
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The death of these three worthy wights,
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with tears they did deplore:
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This sad mischief by lust was wrought,
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then let us call for grace,
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That we may shun the wicked vice,
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and flye from sin apace.
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