The Lady Isabella's Tragedy;
OR,
The Step-Mothers Cruelty.
Being a Relation of a most Lamentable and Cruel Murder, committed on
the Body of the Lady Isabella, the only Daughter of a Noble Duke, occasioned
by the means of a Step-Mother and the Master-Cook, who were both adjudged
to suffer a Cruel death, for committing the said Horrid Act.
To the Tune of, The Ladies Fall.
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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 whilst he did in chase 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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This Lord he had a Daughter fair
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whose beauty shin'd so bright:
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She was belov'd both far and near
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of many a Lord and Knight.
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Fair Isabella was she call'd,
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A Creature fair was she,
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She was her fathers only joy,
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as you shall after see.
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But yet 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 bargain'd with the Master-Cook
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to take her life away,
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And taking of her Daughters Book,
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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 unto the Master-Cook
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these words that I tell thee.
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And bid him dress to dinner straight,
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that fair and milk white Doe.
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That in the Park doth shine so bright,
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there's none so fair to show.
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THis Lady fearing of no harm,
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obey'd her Mothers will,
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And presently she hasted home,
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her mind for to fulfill.
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She streight into the Kitchin went,
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her message for to tell;
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And there the Master Cook she spy'd,
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who did with Malice swell.
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You 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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which you do know full well.
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Then streight his cruel bloody hands,
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he on the Lady laid,
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Who quivering and shaking stands,
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whilst 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 cry'd out the Scullen boy
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as loud as loud might he,
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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 pity sake do not destroy,
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my Lady with your Knife,
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You know she is her fathers joy,
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for Christ's sake save her life.
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I will not save her life he said,
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nor make my Pies of thee,
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But if thou dost this deed bewray,
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thy Butcher I will be,
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But when this Lord he did come home
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for to sit down and 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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Now sit you down his Lady said,
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O sit you down to meat,
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Into some Nunnery she is gone,
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your Daughter dear forget.
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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 eat nor drink,
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untill he did her see,
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O then bespake the Scullen-boy,
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with a loud voice so high,
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If that you will your Daughter see,
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my Lord cut up that Pye.
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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 cursed be the Master-Cook,
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O cursed may he be,
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I proffered 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 for her Step-mother,
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to be burnt at a Stake.
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Likewise he judg'd the Master-Cook,
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in boyling Lead to stand;
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And made the simple Scullen Boy,
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the Heir to all his Land.
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