The second part of the Marchants Daughter of Bristow.
To the tune of the Maidens Joy.
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WElcome sweet Maudlin from the sea,
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where bitter storms & cruel tempests did arise:
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The pleasant banks of Italy,
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We may behold with joyfull eies.
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Thankes gentle maister then quoth she,
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A faithful friend in al my sorows thou hast beene
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If fortune once doth smile on me,
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My thankfull heart shall well be seene.
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Blest be the land that feedes my Love,
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Blest be that place whereas he doth abide,
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No travell will I sticke to prove:
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Whereby my goodwill may be tride.
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Now will I walke with joyfull heart,
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to view the town wheras my darling doth remaine
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And seek him out in every part,
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Untill I do his sight attaine.
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And I quoth he will not forsake,
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Sweete M. in al her jorneys up and downe
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In wealth and woe thy part Ile take,
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And bring thee safe to Padua towne.
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And after many weary steps,
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In Padua they safe arived at the last,
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For verie joy her heart it leapes,
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She thinkes not on her perills past.
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But now alas behold the lucke,
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Her own true love in woful prison doth she find,
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Which did her heart in peeces plucke,
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And greevde her gentle mind.
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Condemnd he was to die alas,
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Except he would his faith and his religion turne:
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But rather then he would go to masse,
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In fiery flames he vowed to burne.
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Now doth faire Maudlin weepe and waile
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her joy is changd to weeping sorow greefe & care
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but nothing can her plaints prevaile,
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For death alone must be his share.
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She walkes under the prison walles,
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where her true love doth ly and languish in distresse
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Most wofully for foode he calls,
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When hunger did his heart oppresse.
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He sighes and sobs and makes great mone
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farwel said he sweet England now forever more
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and al my friends that have me known
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In Bristow towne with wealth and store.
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But most of al farewel quoth he,
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My owne true love sweete M. whom I left behind
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For nevermore I shal thee see,
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Woe to thy father most unkind.
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How wel were I if thou wast here
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with thy fair hands to close up both these wretched eys
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My torments easie would appeere,
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My soule with joy should scale the skies.
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When M. heard her lovers mone,
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her eies with tears, her hart with sorow filled was,
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To speak with him no means was known
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Such grievous [?] on him did passe.
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Then cast she off her Ladies attire,
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A maidens weede upon her back she seemly set
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To the judges house she did enquire,
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And there she did a service get.
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She did her dutie there so wel,
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And eke so prudently herself she did behave
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With her in love her maister fell,
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His servants favour he doth crave.
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Maudlin quoth he my hearts delight,
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To whom my hart in firme affections tide,
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Breede not my death through thy dispight,
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A faithful friend I will be tride.
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Graunt me thy love faire maide quoth he,
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and at my hands desire what thou canst devise,
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And I wil grant it unto thee,
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Whereby thy credite may arise.
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O sir she said how blest am I,
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With such a kind and gentle maister for to meete,
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I will not your request denie,
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So you will grant what I do seeke,
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I have a brother sir she said,
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For his religion is now condemnde to die
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In loathsome prison he is laide,
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Opprest with care and miserie.
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Graunt me my brothers life she said,
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And to you my love and liking I wil give
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That may not be quoth he faire maide,
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Except he turne he may not live.
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An English Friar there is she said,
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Of learning great, and of a passing pure life
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Let him be to my brother sent,
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And he will finish soone the strife.
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Her maister granted this request,
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The mariner in Friars weed she doth aray
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And to her love that lay distrest,
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She doth a letter straightway convay.
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When he had read her gentle lines,
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His heavy hart was ravished with inward joy
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Where now she was ful wel he finds
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The friar likewise was not coy.
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But did declare to him at large,
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the enterprise his love for him had taken in hand
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The yongman did the friar charge,
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His love should straight depart the land.
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Here is no place for her he said,
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but woful death and danger of her harmles life,
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Professing truth I was betraid,
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And freareful flames must end our strife.
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For ere I wil my faith denie,
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And sweare myself to follow damnde antichrist,
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Ile yeeld my bodie for to die,
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To live in heaven with the highest.
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O sir the gentle friar said,
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For your sweete love, recant and save your wished life
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A wofull match quoth he is made,
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Where Christ is lost to winne a wife.
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When she had wroght al means she might
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to save her friend & that she saw it wold not be
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Then of the judge she claimd her right
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To die the death as well as he.
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For looke what faith he doth professe,
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in that same faith be sure that I wil live & dy
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Then ease us both in our distresse,
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Let us not live in miserie.
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When no perswasion would prevaile,
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Nor change her mind in anything that she had said
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she was with him condemnd to die
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And for them both one fire made.
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And arme in arme most joyfully,
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these lovers twain unto the fire then did go
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The mariners most faithfully,
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Were likewise partners of their woe.
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But when the judges understood,
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the faithful frindship in them al that did remaine
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They savde their lives, and afterward,
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To England sent them home againe.
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Now was their sorrowes turnde to joy,
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and faithful lovers had now their harts desire
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their paines so wel they did imploy,
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God granted what they did require.
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And when they were in England come,
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And to mery Bristow arrived at the last,
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Great joy there was of al and some,
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that heard the dangers they had past.
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Her father he was dead God wot,
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And eke her mother was joyful of her sight
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their wishes she denied not,
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But wedded them with hearts delight.
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Her gentle maister she desirde,
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to be her father, & at church to give her then
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It was fulfild as she requirde,
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Unto the joy of all good men.
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