The most Rare and Excellent History,
Of the Dutchess of Suffolks Callimity.
To the Tune of, Queen Dido.
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WHen God had taken for our sin
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that prudent Prince K. Edward away,
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Then bloody Bonner did begin
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his raging malice to bewray:
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All those that did Gods Word profess,
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He persecuted more or less.
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Thus whilst the Lord on us did lowre,
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many in Prison he did throw,
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Tormenting them in Lollards Tower,
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whereby they might the truth forego:
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Then Cranmer, Ridley, and the rest,
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were burning in the fire, that Christ profest.
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Smithfield was then with Fagots fil'd
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and many places more besides,
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At Coventry was Sanders kill'd,
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at Woster eke, good Hopper dy'd,
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And to escape this bloody day,
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Beyond-sea many fled away.
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Amongst the rest that sought release
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and for their faith in danger stood,
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Lady Elizabeth was chief,
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King Henries Daughter of Royal blood,
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Which in the Tower did Prisoner lye,
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Looking each day when she should dye.
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The Dutches of Suffolk seeing this,
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whose life likewise the Tyrant sought:
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Who in the hopes of heavenly bliss,
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within Gods word her comfort wrought:
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For fear of death was faint to fly,
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And leave her house most secretly.
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That for the love of God alone,
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her Land and Goods she left behind,
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Seeking still for that precious stone,
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the word and truth so rare to find:
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She with her Nurse, Husband, and Child,
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In poor aray their sighs beguild.
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Thus through London they passed along
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each one did take a several street,
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Thus all along escaping wrong,
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at Billinsgate they all did meet.
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Like people poor in Gravesend-barge,
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They simply went with all their charge.
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And all along from Gravesend-town,
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with journeys short on foot they went,
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Unto the Sea-coast came they down,
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to pass the Seas was their intent:
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And God provided so that day,
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That they took ship and sayl'd away.
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And with a prosperous gale of wind,
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in Flanders they did safe arive,
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This was to their great ease of mind,
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and from their heavy hearts much wo did drive
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And so with thanks to God on high,
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They took their way to Germany.
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Thus as they travel'd still disguis'd,
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upon the High-way suddenly,
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By cruel Thieves they were surpriz'd,
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assayling their small company:
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And all their treasures and their store,
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They took away and beat them sore.
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The Nurse in midst of their fight,
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laid down the child upon the ground,
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She ran away out of their sight
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and never after that was found:
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Then did the Dutches make great moan,
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With her good Husband all alone.
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The Thieves had there their horses kil'd,
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and all their money quite had took,
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The pretty baby almost spoil'd,
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Was by the Nurse likewise forsook:
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And they far from their friends did stand
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And succourless in a strange Land.
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The Sky likewise began to scowl,
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it Haild and Raind in pitious sort,
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The way was long and wondrous foul,
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then may I now full well report,
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Their grief and sorrow was not smal,
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When this unhappy chance did fall.
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SOmetimes the Dutches bore the Child,
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as wet as ever she could be,
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And when the Lady kind and mild
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was weary, then the Child bore he:
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And thus they one another eas'd,
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And with their fortunes well was pleas'd.
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And after many weary step,
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all wet-shod both in dirt and mire,
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After much grief their hearts yet leaps,
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for labour doth some rest require:
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A town before them they did see,
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But Lodged there they could not be.
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From house to house then they did go,
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seeking that night where they might lye,
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But want of money was their wo,
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and still their babe with cold did cry;
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With cap and knee they courtesie make
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but none of them would pity take.
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Lo here a Prince of great blood
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doth pray a peasant for releif,
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With tears bedewed as she stood
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yet few or none regard her grief:
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Her speech they could not understand,
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But gave her money in her hand.
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When all in vain her speeches spent
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and that they could not house-room get,
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Into a Church-porch then they went,
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to stand out of the rain and wet:
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Then said the Dutches to her Dear,
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O that we had some fire here.
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Then did her Husband so provide
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that fire and coals he got with speed:
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She sate down by the fireside
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to dress her Daughter that had need:
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And whilst she drest it in her Lap
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Her Husband made the Infant pap.
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Anon the Sexston thither came,
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and finding them there by the fire,
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The drunken knave, all void of shame
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to drive them out was his desire:
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And spurn'd forth the Noble Dame,
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Her husbands wrath she did inflame.
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And all in fury as he stood,
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he wrung the Church-keys put of his hand
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And struck him so that all the blood,
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his head ran down as he did stand:
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Wherefore the Sextone presently,
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For help and aid aloud did cry.
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Then came the Officers in hast,
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and took the Dutches and her child,
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And with her husband thus they past,
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like Lambs beset with Tygers wild;
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And to the Governor were brought
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Who understood them not in ought.
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Then Master Bertue brave and bold,
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in Latine made a gallant speech,
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Which all their misery did unfold,
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and their high favour did beseech:
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With that a Doctor sitting by,
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Did know the Dutches presently.
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And thereupon arising streight,
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with words abashed at this sight,
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Unto them all that there did wait,
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he thus brake forth in words aright:
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Behold within your sight, quoth he
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A Prince of most high degree.
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With that the Governour and all the rest,
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were all amaz'd the same to hear,
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Who welcomed this newcome guest,
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with reverence great and Princely chear
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And afterwards convey'd they were
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Unto their Friend, Prince Cassimere.
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A Son she had in Germany,
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Pergrine Bartu cal'd by name,
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Surnam'd the good Lord Willoughby,
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of courage great and worthy fame:
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Her daughter young with her went,
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Was afterwards Countess of Kent.
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For when Queen Mary was deceast,
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the Dutches home return'd again,
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Who was of sorrow quite releast,
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by Queen Elizabeths happy Raign:
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Whose godly Life and Piety,
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We may praise continually.
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