Bateman's Tragedy
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YOU gallant dames so finely fram'd,
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Of beauty's chiefest mould,
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And you that trip it up and down,
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Like lambs in cupid's fold,
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Here is a lesson to be learn'd,
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A lesson in my mind,
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For such as do prove false in love,
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And bear a falser mind.
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Not far from Nottingham of late,
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In Clifton as we hear,
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There liv'd a rich and comely maid,
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For beauty without peer.
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Her cheeks were like the crimson rose,
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Yet as you may perceive,
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The fairest faee and falsest heart,
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The soonest will deceive.
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This beauteous dame she was belov'd,
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By many in that place,
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For many sought in marriage bed,
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Her body to embrace.
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At last a handsome proper youth,
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Young Bateman call'd by name,
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Hoping to make her a married wife,
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Unto this maiden came.
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Such love and liking there was found,
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That he from all the rest,
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Had stole away this maiden's heart,
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And she did love him best.
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Then plighted promise secretly,
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Did pass between these two,
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That nothing could but death itself,
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This true love's knot undo.
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He broke a piece of gold in twain,
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One half to her he gave,
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The other as a pledge said he,
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I for myself will have.
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If I do break my vows said he,
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While I remain alive,
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Ne'er may a thing I take in hand,
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Ever be seen to thrive.
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This passed on for two months space,
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And then this maid began,
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To settle love and liking then,
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Upon another man.
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One Jermain, who a widower was,
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Needs must her husband be,
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Because he was of greater worth,
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And better in degree,
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Her vows and promise lately made,
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To Bateman she deny'd,
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And in despite of him and his
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She utterly defy'd.
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Well then, quoth he, if it be so,
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That you will me forsake,
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And like a false and forsworn wretch,
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Another husband take,
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Thou shalt not live one quiet hour,
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For I will surely have,
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Thee, either when alive or dead,
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When I am laid in grave.
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Thy faithless mind thou shalt repent,
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Therefore be well assur'd,
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When for thy sake, thou harden'd wretch,
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What torments I endur'd.
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But mark how Bateman died for love,
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And finished his life,
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That very day she married were,
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And made old Jermain's wife,
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For with a strangling cord, good wot,
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Great moan was made, therefore
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He hang'd himself in desperate sort,
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Before the bride's own door.
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Whereat such sorrow pierc'd her heart,
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And troubl'd sore her mind,
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That she could never after thar,
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One day of comfort find.
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For wheresoever she did go,
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Her fancy did surprise,
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Young Bateman's pale and ghastly ghost,
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Appear'd before her eyes.
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When she in bed one night did lay,
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Within her husband's arms,
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In hopes thereby to sleep and rest,
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And be secure from harms.
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Great cries and grievous groans she heard,
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A voice that sometimes said,
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O thou art she that I must have,
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I will not be deny'd.
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But then she being big with child,
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Was for the infant's sake,
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Preserved from the spirit's power,
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No vengeance could it take.
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The babe unborn did safely keep,
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As God appointed so,
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It's mother's body from the fiend,
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Which sought her overthrow.
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But being of her burden eas'd,
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And fairly brought to bed,
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Her care and grief began anew,
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And inward sorrow bred.
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Of most her friends she did entreat,
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Desiring them to stay.
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Out of the bed, quoth she, this night,
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I shall be torn away.
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Hence comes the spirit of love,
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With pale and ghastly face,
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Who till he bears me hence away,
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Will not depart this place.
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Alive or dead I am his right,
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And me he'll surely have,
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In spite of me and all the world,
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What I by promise gave.
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O watch with me, this night, I beg,
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But see you do not sleep,
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No longer than you keep awake,
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My body you can keep,
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They promised to do their best,
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Yet nothing could suffice,
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At middle of the night to keep,
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Soft slumber from their eyes.
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So being fallen fast asleep,
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To them unknown which way,
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The child bed woman that very night,
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From thence was borne away.
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And to what place no creature knew,
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Nor to this day can tell.
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As strange a thing as ever yet,
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In any age befel.
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You maidens that desire to love,
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And would good husbands choose,
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To him that you by vow do love,
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By no means do refuse.
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