An Excellent BALLAD of
GEORGE BARNWELL
Who was undone by a Strumpet, that caused him to Rob his
Master, and murder his Uncle.
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ALL Youths of fair England,
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that dwell both far and near,
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Regard my story that i tell,
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and to my song give ear.
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A London lad i was,
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a merchants' Prentice bound;
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my name George Barnwel that did spend
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my master many a pound.
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Take heed of harlots then,
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and their enticing trains;
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For by that means i have been brought
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to hang alive in Chains.
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As i upon a certain Day,
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was walking through the street,
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About my master's business,
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a Wanton did i meet.
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A gallant dainty Dame,
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and sumpteous in attire;
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With smiling looks she greeted me,
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and did my Name require.
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Which when i had declar'd,
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she gave me then a kiss,
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And said if i would come to her,
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i should have more than this.
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I faith my boy said she,
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such news i can thee tell,
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As shall rejoice your very heart,
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then come where i do dwell.
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Fair Mistress then quoth i,
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could i the place but know,
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This Evening i will be with you,
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for i abroad must go,
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For to gather some money in,
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that is my masters due,
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And e're that i do home return,
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i'll come and visit you.
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Good Barnwel then quoth she,
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do thou to Shoreditch come,
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And ask for Millwoods house,
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next door unto the Gun.
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And trust me on my truth,
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if thou keep touch with me,
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For my friend sake, and as my heart
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thou shalt right welcome be.
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Then parted we in Peace,
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and home i passed right,
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So went abroad and gathered in
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by six o' Clock at Night,
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An hundred Pounds and One,
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with bag under my arm,
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I went to Mrs. Millwoods house,
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and thought on little harm.
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And knocking at the door,
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straitways herself came down,
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Rustling in most brave attire,
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her hood and silken gown.
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Who, 'tho' her beauty bright
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so gloriously did shine,
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That she amaz'd my dazling sight,
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she seemed so divine.
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She took me by the hand,
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and with a modest grace:
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Welcome sweet Barnwell then said she
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unto this homely Place.
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Welcome ten thousand times,
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more welcome than my brother;
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And better welcome i protest,
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than any One or other.
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And seeing i have thee found,
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as good as thy word to be,
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A homely supper e'er we part,
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thou shalt here take with me.
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O pardon me quoth i,
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sweet mistress i you pray,
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For why out of my master's house,
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so long i dare not stay.
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Alas, good sir, said she,
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are you so strictly tyed,
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You may not with your dearest friend,
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an hour or two abide
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Faith then the case is hard,
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if this be so, quoth she,
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I would i were a 'Prentice bound,
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to live in a house with thee.
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Therefore my sweetest George,
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list well what i shall say,
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And do not blame a Woman much,
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her fancy to betray.
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Let not affections forc'd,
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be counted leud desire,
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Nor think it not immodesty.
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I should thy Love require.
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With that she turn'd aside,
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and with a blushing red,
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A moanful motion she betrayed,
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by hanging down her head.
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A handkerchief she had,
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all wrought with silk and Gold,
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Now for to dry her trickling tears,
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before her Eyes did hold.
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This thing unto my sight,
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was wonderous fine and strange,
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And in my soul an inward thought,
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it wrought a sudden change.
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That i so wicked grew,
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to take her by the hand,
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Crying sweet mistress why do you
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so dull and pensive stand?
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Call me no Mistress now,
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but Sarah thy sweet Friend,
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Thy Servant Sarah, honouring thee,
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Untill my Life doth end.
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If thou would'st here alledge,
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in years thou art a Boy,
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Thus was Adonis, yet was he
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fair Venus's only Joy.
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Thus i who ne'er before,
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of Women found such grace,
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And seeing now so fair a Dame,
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give me a kind Embrace.
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I sup'd with her that Night,
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with Joys that did abound;
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And for the same paid presently,
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the sum of twice three pound.
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An hundred Kisses then,
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for my farewell she gave;
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Saying, sweet Barnwell when shall i,
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again thy company have.
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O stay not too long my Love.
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sweet George have me in mind:
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Her Words bewitch'd my childishness,
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she utter'd them so kind.
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So that i made a Vow,
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next Sunday without fail,
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With my dear Sarah once again,
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to tell some pleasant tale.
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As she heard me say so,
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the tears fell from her Eyes,
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O George, quoth she, if thou dost fail,
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thy Sarah surely dies.
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Tho long, yet lo! at last,
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the appointed Day was come.
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That I must with my Sarah meet,
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having a mighty sum
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Of money in my hand.
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unto her house went i,
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Whereas my Love upon her bed,
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in saddest sort did lie.
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What ails my hearts delight,
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my Sarah dear, quoth i?
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Let not my Love lament and grieve,
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nor sighing pine and die:
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But tell me dearest Friend,
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what may thy woes amend,
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And thou shalt lack no means of help,
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tho' forty Pound i spend.
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With that she turn'd her head,
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and sickly thus did say,
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O my sweet George my grief is great,
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ten pounds i have to pay,
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Unto a cruel Wretch,
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and God he knows, quoth she,
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I have it not: Pish, rise, quoth he,
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and take it here of me.
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Ten pounds, nor ten times ten,
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shall make my Love decay,
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Then from his bag into her lap,
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ten pounds he cast straitway.
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All blith and pleasant then
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to banqueting they go;
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She proffered him to lie with her,
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and said it should be so.
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And after that same time,
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he gave her store of Coin;
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Yea sometimes fifty pounds at once,
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the which he did purloin.
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And thus i did pass on,
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untill my Master then,
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Did call to have his Reckoning,
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cast up among his Men.
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The which when as i heard,
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i knew not what to say;
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For well i knew that i was out.
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two hundred pound that day.
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Then from my Master strait,
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i ran in secret sort,
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And unto Sarah Millwood then,
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my state i did report.
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But how she used this youth,
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in this his extreem need,
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The which did her necessity
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so oft with money feed.
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The second Part behold,
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shall tell it forth at large,
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And shall a Strumpets wiley ways,
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with all her tricks discharge.
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The Second PART.
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HERE comes Barnwell unto thee,
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sweet Sarah my delight,
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I am undone unless thou stand
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my faithful Friend this Night.
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Our master to command Accounts,
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has just occasion found;
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And i am found behind hand,
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above two hundred pound.
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And knowing not at all,
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what answer him to make,
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And his displeasure to escape,
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my way to thee i take.
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Hoping in this extremity,
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thou wilt my succour be,
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That for a time i may remain,
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in safety here with thee.
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With that she knit her brow,
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and looking all awry;
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Quoth she what can i have to do,
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with any 'Prentice Boy.
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And seeing you have stolen and gave
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your master's goods away;
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The case is bad, and therefore here
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thou shalt no longer stay.
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Why Dear, thou knowest, he said,
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that all which i did get,
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I gave and did spend it all
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upon thee every whit.
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Thou knowest i love thee well,
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thou could not ask the thing,
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But that i did incontinent
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the same unto you bring.
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Quoth she thou art a paltry Jack,
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to charge me in such sort,
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Being a Woman of credit good,
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and known of good report.
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And therefore this i tell the flat,
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be packing with good speed,
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I do defy thee from my heart,
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and scorn thy filthy deed.
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Is this the love and friendship that
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thou didst to me protest?
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Is this the great Affection, which
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you seemed to express.
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Now fie on all deceitful shews,
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the best is, i may speed
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To get a Lodging anywhere,
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for money in my need.
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Therefore false Woman farewell,
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whilst twenty pounds do last,
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My Anchor in some other Haven,
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i will with freedom cast.
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When she perceived by his words,
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that he had money store;
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That she had gall'd him in such sort,
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it griev'd her heart full sore.
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Therefore to call him back again,
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she did suppose it best:
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Stay George said she thou art too quick
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for man i did but jest.
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Thinkest thou that for all my speech,
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that i would let the go:
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Faith no said she, my Love to thee,
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i wish is more than so.
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You would not deal with prentice boys
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i heard you but just swear,
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Therefore they will not trouble you.
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My George hearken thine Ear.
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You'll not go to Night said she,
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let what chance will befall;
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But man we'll have money for thee
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or else the Devil take all.
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So i was with strong frauds byassed,
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and snar'd with fancy still;
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And had no power to go away
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nor to withstand her will
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So Wine and Wine i called in,
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and cheer upon good cheer,
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And nothing in the World i thought
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for Sarah's love too dear.
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Whilst i was in her company,
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in Joy and merriment,
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And all too little I did think,
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that i upon her spent.
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A fig for care and careful thoughts,
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when all my Gold is gone,
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In faith my Girl we shall have more,
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whoe'er i light upon.
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My father's rich and then said i,
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shall i want store of Gold;
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For with a Father a son said he,
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may veryly make bold.
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I have a sister richly wed,
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i'll rob e'er i'll want.
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Nay then, quoth Sarah, they may well
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consider of your scant.
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Nay likewise an Uncle i have,
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at Ludlow he doth dwell,
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He is a Grazier, who in Wealth
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doth all the rest excel,
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E'er i will live in lack quoth he,
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and have no Coin for thee,
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I'll rob his house and murder him,
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why should you not quoth she.
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Were i a man, e'er i would Want,
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or live in poor Estate,
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On Fathers, Friends, and all my Kin,
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my Talents i would grate.
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For without money George said she,
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a Man is but a beast,
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And bringing money thou shalt be
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always my chiefest Guest.
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For say you should pursued be,
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With twenty hues and cries,
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And with a Warrant searched for,
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With Argus's hundred Eyes.
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Yet in my House you safe shall be,
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such privy ways there be;
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That if they sought an hundred Years;
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they could not find out thee.
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And so carousing in their Cups,
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their Pleasure to content,
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George Barnwell had in little time,
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his money Wholly spent.
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And being gone, to Ludlow then
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he did provide to go,
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To rob his rich old Uncle,
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his Minion would it so.
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And once or twice he thought to take,
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his Father by the Way.
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But that he fear'd his master had
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gave Orders for his stay.
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Directly for his Uncle then
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he rode with might and main;
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And with welcome and good Cheer,
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he did him entartain.
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A fortnight space he stayed there,
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untill it chanced so,
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His Uncle with his Cattle did
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unto a market go.
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His Kinsman needs must ride with him
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and he saw right plain,
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Great store of money he had took,
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in coming home again.
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Most suddenly within a Wood,
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he struck his Uncle down,
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And beat his Brains out of his head,
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so sure he crack'd his Crown.
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And eighty pounds in ready Cash,
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out of his purse he took;
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And coming up to London Town,
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the Country quite forsook.
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Unto Sarah Millwood he came,
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shewing his store of Gold;
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And how he had his Uncle slain,
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unto he[r] he plainly told.
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Pish, its no matter George, said she,
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so we the money have;
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To have good Cheer in gallant sort,
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and deck us fine and brave.
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And thus they lived in filthy sort,
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till all his store was gone,
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And means to get them any more,
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i wish poor George had none.
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And therefore now in railing sort,
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she thrust him out of door,
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Which is the just reward they get
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that spend upon a Whore.
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O do me not this foul disgrace,
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in this my need quoth he;
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She call'd him Thief and Murderer,
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with all dispight might be.
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And to the Constable she sent,
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to have him apprehended;
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And shew'd how far in each degree,
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he had the Laws offended.
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When Barnwell saw her drift,
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to Sea he got straitway:
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Here fear and dread of Conscience,
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continually on him lay.
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Unto the Mayor of London then,
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he did a Letter write;
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In which his own and Sarah's faults,
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he did at large recite.
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By which she apprehended where,
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and down to Ludlow sent,
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and there she was condemn'd & hang'd
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for murder incontinent.
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And there this gallant Quean she dyed
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this was her greatest gains:
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For Murder in Polonia,
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was Barnwell hang'd in Chains.
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Lo! here's the end of Wilful Youth,
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that after Harlots haunt,
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Who in the spoil of other Men,
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about the streets do haunt.
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