A Lamentable Ballad of the LADYS FALL.
To the Tune of, In Pescod-time, etc.
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MArk well my heavy doleful tale,
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you loyal lovers all,
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And heedfully bear in your breast
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a gallant ladies fall:
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Long was she woo'd e're she was won,
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to lead a wedded life,
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But folly wrought her overthrow
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before she was a wife.
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Too soon (alas) she gave consent
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to yield unto his will,
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Though he protested to be true,
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and faithful to her still:
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She felt her body altered quite,
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her bright hue waxed pale,
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Her fair red cheeks turn'd colour white,
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her strength began to fail.
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So that with many a sorrowful sigh,
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this beauteous maiden mild,
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With grievous heart perceiv'd her self
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to be conceiv'd with child:
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She kept it from her father's sight,
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as close as close might be,
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And so put on her silken gown
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none might her swelling see.
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Unto her lover secretly
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she did her self bewray,
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And walking with him hand in hand,
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these words to him did say:
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Behold (said she) a maids distress,
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my love, brought to thy bow,
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Behold I go with child by thee,
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but none thereof doth know.
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The little babe springs in my womb
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to hear the father's voice,
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Let it not be a bastard call'd,
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sith I made thee my choice:
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Come come my love, perform thy vow,
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and wed me out of hand;
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O leave me not in this extream,
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in grief always to stand,
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Think on thy former promise made,
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thy vows and oaths each one;
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Remember with what bitter tears
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to me thou mad'st thy moan:
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Convey me to some secret place,
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and marry me with speed,
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Or with thy Rapier end my life,
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e're further shame proceed.
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Alas my dearest love (quoth he)
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my greatest joy on earth,
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Which way can I convey thee hence,
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without a sudden death?
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Thy friends they be of High degree,
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and I of mean estate,
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Full hard it is to get thee forth,
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out of thy father's gate.
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Dread not thy self to save my fame,
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and if thou taken be,
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My self will step between the swords,
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and take the harm on me;
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So shall I scape dishonour quite,
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if so I should be slain,
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What could they say, but that true love
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did work a ladys pain.
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And not fear any further harm,
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my self will so devise,
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That I will go away with thee
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unseen of mortal eyes;
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Disguised like some pritty Page
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I'll meet thee in the dark,
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And all alone I'll come to thee
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hard by my father's park.
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And there (quoth he) I'll meet my love,
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if God do lend me life,
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And this day month without all fail
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I will make thee my wife;
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Then with a sweet and loving kiss,
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they parted presently,
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And at their parting brinish tears,
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stood in each others eye.
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At length the wished day was come
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whereby this lovely maid
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With lovely eyes and strange attire,
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for her true lover staid:
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When any person she espy'd
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come riding o're the plain,
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She thought it was her own true love,
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but all her Hopes were vain.
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Then did she weep and sore bewail
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her most unhappy state,
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Then did she speak these woful words,
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when succourless she sat:
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O false forsworn and faithless wretch,
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disloyal to thy love;
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Hast thou forgot thy promise made?
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and wilt thou perjur'd prove.
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And hast thou now forsaken me
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in this my great distress?
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To end my days in open shame,
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which thou might'st well redress:
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Woe worth the time I did believe
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that flattering tongue of thine,
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Would God that I had never seen
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the tears of thy false eye.
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And thus with many a sorrowful sigh,
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homewards she went again,
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No rest came in her wat'ry eyes,
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she felt such bitter pain,
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In travel strong she fell that night
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with many a bitter throw,
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What woful pangs she felt that night
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doth each good woman know.
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She called up her waiting-maid
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that lay at her beds feet,
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Who musing at her mistress's woe,
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did strait begin to weep;
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Weep not (said she) but shut the door
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and windows round about,
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Let none bewail my wretched case,
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but keep all persons out.
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O mistress call your mother dear,
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of women you have need,
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And of some skilful mid-wifes help,
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the better you may speed:
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Call not my mother for thy life,
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nor call no women here,
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The midwifes help comes now too late,
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my death I do not fear.
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With that the babe sprung in her womb,
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no creature being nigh,
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And with a sigh that broak her heart,
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this gallant dame did dye:
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This living little infant young,
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the mother being dead,
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Resign'd his new received breath,
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to Him that had him made.
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Next morning came her lover true,
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affrighted at this news,
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And he for sorrow slew himself,
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whom each one did accuse:
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The mother with the new born babe,
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were both laid in one grave,
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Their parents overcome with woe,
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no joy of them could have.
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Take heed you dainty damosels all,
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of flattering words beware,
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And of the honour of your name,
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have you a special care:
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Too true alas this story is,
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as many one can tell;
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By others harms learn to be wise,
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and thou shalt do full well.
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