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EBBA 36092

Manchester Central Library - Blackletter Ballads
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A wonderfull example of Gods justice, shewed upon Jasper
Conningham a Gentleman borne in Scotland, who was of opinion,
That there was neither God, nor Divell, nor Heaven, nor Hell.
To the tune of, O neighbour Robert.

IT was a Scotchman,
a Scotchman lewd of life,
That long had lived
unlawfull from his wife:
His name was Jasper Conningham,
as I doe understand,
Whose dwelling was in Aberdine,
a Towne in faire Scotland.

He had a Sister
which was both faire and bright,
Worshipfully wedded,
unto a worthy Knight:
Godly, wise, and vertuous,
in every things was she,
A fairer comely Lady
in Scotland could not be.

Her wicked brother,
such inward paines did prove,
With his faire Sister
he greatly fals in love:
He watches time, he woes her,
and shewes to her his mind,
And still he sayes sweet Sister
be not to me unkind.

This comely Lady,
in mild and gentle wise,
Unto her brother,
thus modestly replies,
The Lord forbid deare brother,
I should consent at all,
To such a damned action,
to bring our soules in thrall.

Is not great torments
prepar'd for hatefull sin?
Is not God as righteous
as ever he hath beene?
Is not he well prepared
with quenchlesse flames of fire,
To give such wicked persons
their due deserved hire?

Wherefore deare brother,
repent and call for grace,
Let not those motions
within your heart take place:
Consider unto judgement
we shall one day be brought,
To answer for the follies
that in this life are wrought,

Her brother hearing
her goldly Christian talke,
Within the Garden
as they alone did walke:
Blasphemously replyed,
as shamless as he stood,
Saying she had declared
a tale of Robin Hood.

You are deceived
faire Sister then, said he,
To talke of Heavens glory,
or Hels plagues to me:
These are devised Fables,
to keepe poore fooles in feare,
That were by wisemen written
though no such there were.

You speake of a reckoning
and of a judgement day,
And after life is ended,
and flesh consum'd away:
And of a God most justly,
will plague all things amisse,
And those that doe beleeve it
are much deceiv'd I wis,

Alas he said, my Sister,
these things are nothing so,
No God nor Divell is biding,
in Heaven nor Hell I know:
All toings are wrought by nature,
the, Earth, the Ayre, and Skye,
There is no joy nor sorrow,
after that man doth dye.

Therefore let me have pleasure,
while here I doe remaine,
I feare not Gods displeasure,
nor Hels tormenting paine:
No sooner had he spoken,
this foule blasphemous thing,
But that a heavy Judgement
the Lord did on him bring.

For in the Garden
whereas he did abide,
Suddenly a fire,
sprang up on every side;
Which round about inclosed
this damned wretch that day,
Who roar[']d and cry'd most grievous,
but could not start away.

The second part, to the same tune.

THis fearefull fire
up to his knees did rise,
Burning blew like Brimstone,
in most outragious wise:
The Lady which beheld it
ran crying in for ayde,
To plucke away her brother,
which in the fire staid.

But nought prevailed,
for ought that they could doe,
Long staves and also pitchforks,
they reached him unto:
Because they durst not venture,
neere to the fiery flame,
He taking hold upon them,
to draw him out the same.

But not a finger,
nor hand that he could move,
His armes hung dead behind him,
great paines that he did prove:
And now he bans and curses
the day that he was borne,
And wishes that his carcasse
by Devils might be torne.

Now feely I surely,
quoth he, there is a God,
That sore doth plague me
with his strong Iron Rod:
O hide me from his presence,
his lookes are death to me,
Nothing but wrath and vengeance,
about him I doe see.

I have despis'd him,
but can no whit repent,

My heart is hardened,
my mind cannot relent:
No pitty nor compassion,
no mercy is in store,
For me vile wretched creature,
despis[']d for evermore.

I am in Hell tormented,
and to endlesse paine,
Looke how the Devill torments me,
in stretching every vaine:
Looke how they swim about me,
O what Hel fiends are these?
Woe worth the time that ever
I did myselfe displease.

I burne in flaming fire,
yet doe no whit consume,
My Conscience doth torment me;
that did in sinne presume;
Alas my loving Sister,
now doe I know full well
There is a God most righteous,
and eke a Devill in Hell.

And with these speeches
his eyes fell from his head,
And by his strings hung dangling
below his chin starke dead:
See how the Devills then he said,
have pluckt mine eyes out quite,
That alwayes were unworthy
to view the Heavens light.

Then from his mouth there fell
his foule blasphemous tongue,
In ugly manner,
most pitteously it hung:

And there away it rotted,
in all the peoples sight,
By Lice and filthy Vermine,
he was consumed quite.

With gastly groaning,
and shriekes that sounded hye,
Two houres after
this cursed man did lye:
And there at length he dyed,
and then the fire ceast,
His carkasse stanke more filthily
then any carrion beast.

No man was able
for to endure the smell,
Nor yet come to bury him,
as true report doth tell,
Untill he was consumed
he lay above the ground,
The doores about the Garden,
therefore were locked round.

Let all Blasphemers
take warning by this thing,
Lest that Gods vengeance
they doe upon them bring:
And Lord grant all Christians
thy grace and holy feare,
They may thinke on the punish,
that Conningham had here.


FINIS.
Printed at London by E.P. for F.
Coles, dwelling in the
Old-baily.

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