The Woful LAMENTATION of JANE SHORE,
A Goldsmith's Wife, in London, sometime King EDWARD the Fourth's CONCUBINE, who
for her Wanton Life came to a Miserable End: Set forth for the EXAMPLE of all Wicked LIVERS. TO
the Tune of, Live with me, etc.
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IF Rosamond that was so fair,
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Had cause her Sorrows to declare,
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Then let Jane Shore with sorrow sing,
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That was beloved of a King:
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Then wanton Wives in time amend,
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For Love and Beauty will have an end.
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In Maiden years my Beauty bright,
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Was loved dear of Lord and Knight,
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But yet the love that they requir'd,
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It was not as my Friends desir'd
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My Parents they for thirst of Gain,
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A Husband for me did obtain,
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And I their pleasure to fulfil,
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Was forc'd to wed against my will
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To Matthew Shore I was a Wife,
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Till Lust brought ruine to my life,
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And then my life so lewdly spent,
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Which makes my soul for to lament.
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In Lumbard-street I once did dwell,
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As London yet can witness well,
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Where many Gallants did behold
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My Beauty in a Shop of Gold
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I spread my plumes as Wantons do,
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Some sweet and secret Friend to wooe,
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Because my Love I did not find,
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Agreeing to my wanton mind.
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At last my name in Court did ring,
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Into the ears of Englands King,
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Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd;
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But I made coy what he desir'd
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Yet Mistress Blague, a Neighbour near,
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Whose Friendship I esteemed dear,
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Did say, it is a gallant thing
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To be beloved of a King,
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By her perswasions I was led,
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For to defile my Marriage-bed,
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And wrong my wedded Husband Shore,
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Whom I had lov'd ten Years before.
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In heart and mind I did rejoyce,
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That I had made so sweet a Choice,
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And therefore did my State resign,
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To be King Edwards Concubine.
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From City then to Court I went,
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To reap the pleasures of Content,
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And had the joys that Love could bring,
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And knew the Secrets of a King
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When I was thus advanc'd on high,
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Commanding Edward with mine Eye,
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For Mistress Blague I in short space
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Obtain'd a Living of his Grace.
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No Friend had I but in short time
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I made unto Promotion climb
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But yet for all this costly pride,
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My Husband could not me abide
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His bed, though wronged by a King,
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His heart with grief did deadly sting
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From England then he goes away,
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To end his life upon the Sea;
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He could not live to see his Name
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Impared by my wanton Shame,
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Although a Prince of Peerless Might,
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Did reap the pleasures of his Right.
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Long time I lived in the Court,
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With Lords and Ladies of great sort,
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For when I smil'd all Men were glad,
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But when I mourn'd my Prince grew sad.
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But yet an honest mind I bore,
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To helpless People that were poor,
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I still redrest the Orphan's Cry,
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And sav'd their lives condemn'd to die.
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I still had ruth on Widows Tears,
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I succour'd Babes of tender years,
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And never lookt for other gain,
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But Love and Thanks for all my pain.
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At last my Royal King did dye,
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And then my days of Woe grew nigh,
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When Crook-back R got the Crown,
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King Edwards Friends were soon put down.
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I then was punisht for my Sin,
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That I so long had lived in
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Yea, everyone that was his Friend,
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This Tyrant brought to shameful End.
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Then for my rude and wanton Life,
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That made a Strumpet of a Wife,
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I Pennance did in Lumbard-street,
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In shameful manner in a Sheet
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Where many thousands did me view,
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Who late in Co[u]rt my Credit knew;
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Which made the tears run down my face
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To think upon my foul Disgrace
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Not thus content, they took from me
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My Goods, my Livings, and my Fee,
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And charg'd that none should me Relieve,
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Nor any Succour to me give:
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Then unto Mistress Blague I went,
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To whom my Jewels I had sent,
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In hope thereby to ease my Want,
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When Riches fail'd, and Love grew scant:
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But she deny'd to me the same,
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When in my Need for them I came
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To recompence my former Love,
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Out of her Doors she did me shove
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So Love did vanish with my State,
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Which now my soul repents too late;
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Therefore Example take by me,
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For Friendship parts in Poverty.
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But yet one Friend among the rest,
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Whom I before had seen distrest,
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And sav'd his Life condemn'd to dye,
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Did give me Food to succour me;
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For which, by Law, it was decreed,
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That he was hanged for that Deed
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His Death did grieve me so much more,
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Then had I dyed myself therefore
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Then those to whom I had done good,
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Durst not restore me any food;
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Whereby in vain I beg'd all day,
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And still in Streets by night I lay.
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My Gowns beset with Pearl and Gold,
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Are turn'd to simple Garments old;
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My Chains and Jems and golden Rings,
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To filthy Rags and loathsome Things,
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Thus was I scorn'd of Maid and Wife,
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For leading such a wicked Life
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Both sucking Babes and Children small,
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Did make a Pastime at my Fall;
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I could not get one bit of Bread,
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Whereby my Hunger might be fed
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Nor Drink but such as Channels yield,
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Or stinking Ditches in the Field;
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Thus weary of my Life at length,
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I yielded up my vital strength,
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Within a Ditch of loathsome scent,
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Where Carrion dogs do much frequent,
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The which now since my Dying-day,
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Is Shoreditch call'd as Writers say:
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Which is a witness of my Sin,
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For being Concubine to a King
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You wanton Wives that fall to Lust,
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Be you assur'd that God is Just;
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Whoredom shall not escape his hand,
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Nor Pride unpunisht in this Land;
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If God to me such Shame should bring,
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That yielded only to a King;
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How shall they 'scape that daily run,
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To practice Sin with every Man?
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You Husbands match not but for Love,
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Lest some Disliking after prove;
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Women be warn'd when you are Wives,
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What Plagues are due to sinful Lives
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Then Maids & Wives in time amend,
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For Love and Beauty will have end.
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The Second Part of J. SHORE, wherein her Husband Bewailed his
Estate, her Wantonness, the Wrong of Marriage, and the Fall of Pride.
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IF she that was fair Londons Pride,
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For Beauty fam'd both far and wide,
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With Swanlike-song in Sadness told,
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Her deep Distresses manifold:
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Then in the same let me also,
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Now bear a part of suchlike Woe:
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Kind Matthew Shore, Men called me,
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A Goldsmith once of good Degree,
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And might have lived long therein,
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Had not my Wife been wed to Sin:
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Ah! gentle Jane, thy wanton Race,
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Hath brought me to this foul Disgrace.
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Thou hadst all things at wish and will,
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Thy wanton Fancy to fulfil,
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No London Dame, nor Merchant's Wife,
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Did lead so sweet and pleasant Life:
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Then gentle Jane, the Truth report,
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Why left'st thou me to live in Court?
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Thou hadst both Gold and Silver store,
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No Wife in London then had more;
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And once a Week to walk in Field,
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To see what pleasure it would yield.
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But woe to me that Liberty,
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Hath brought me to this Misery:
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I married thee whilst thou wert young,
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Before thou knew'st what did belong,
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To Husband's Love, or Marriage state
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Which now my Soul repents too late:
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Thus wanton Pride made thee Unjust,
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And so deceived was my Trust.
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But when the King possest my room,
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And cropt my rosie gallant Bloom,
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Fair Londons Blossom, and my Joy,
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My heart was drown'd in deep annoy,
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To think how unto publique Shame,
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Thy wicked Life brought my good Name.
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And then I thought each Man and Wife,
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In jesting sort accus'd my Life;
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And everyone to the other said,
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That Shores fair Wife the Wanton plaid;
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Thereby in mind I grew to change
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My Dwelling in some Country strange,
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My Lands and Goods I sold away,
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And so from England went to Sea;
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Opprest with Grief and woful Mind,
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But left my Cause of Grief behind:
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My loving Wife whom I once thought,
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Would never be to Lewdness brought;
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But Women now I well espy,
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Are subject to Unconstancy;
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And few there be so true of Love,
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But by long suit will wanton prove;
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For Flesh is frail, and Women weak,
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When Kings for Love long suit to make.
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But yet from England my Depart,
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Was with a sad and heavy Heart,
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Whereat when as my Leave I took,
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I sent back many heavy look,
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Desiring God, if it might be,
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To send one sigh, sweet Jane, to thee!
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For if thou hadst but constant been,
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These days of Woe I ne'r had seen,
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But yet I mourn and grieve full sore,
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To think what Plagues are left in store,
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For such as careless tread awry,
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The modest Paths of Constancy:
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Ah! gentle Jane, if thou did'st know,
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The uncouth Paths I daily go,
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And woful Tears for thee I shed,
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For wronging thus my Marriage-bed,
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Then sure I am thou would'st confess,
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My Love was sure though in Distress:
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Both Flanders, France, and Spain I past,
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And came to Turky at the last;
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And there within that mighty Court,
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I lived long in honest sort;
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Desiring God, that sits in Heaven,
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That Lovers Sins might be forgiven,
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And there advanc'd thy loving Name,
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Of living Wights the fairest Dame:
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The praise of Englands Beauty stain,
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All which thy Husband did maintain,
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And set thy Picture there in Gold,
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For Kings and Princes to behold.
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But when I thought upon thy Sin,
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Thy wanton thoughts delighted in,
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I griev'd that such a comely Face,
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Should hold true Honour in Disgrace,
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And counted it a Luckless-day,
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When as thou first did'st go AStray,
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Desiring then some News to hear,
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Of her my Soul did love so dear,
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My Secrets then I did impart,
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To one well skill'd in Magick Art,
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Who in a Glass did truly show,
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Such things as I desir'd to know:
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I there did see thy Courtly State,
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Thy Pomp, thy Pride, thy Glory great,
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And likewise there I did behold,
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My Jane in Edwards Arms infold:
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Thy secret Love I there espy'd,
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Thy Rice, thy Fall, and how thou died;
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Thy naked Body in the Street,
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I saw do Pennce in a Sheet;
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Barefoot before the Beadle's Wand,
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With burning Taper in thy Hand,
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And Babes, not having use of Tongue,
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Stood pointing as thou went'st along.
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Thus ended was the Shame of thine,
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Though God gave yet no end to mine:
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When I suppos'd my Name forgot,
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And time had washt away my Blot,
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And in another Prince's Reign,
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I came to England back again:
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But staying there, my Friends decay'd,
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My Prince's Laws I disobey'd,
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And by tue Justice judg'd to dye,
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For Clipping Gold in secresie:
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By Gold was my best Living made,
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And so by Gold my Life decay'd:
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Thus have you heard the woful Strife,
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That came by my Unconstant Wife,
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Her Fall, my Death, wherein is shew'd,
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The Story of a Strumpet lewd;
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In hope thereby some Women may,
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Take heed how they the Wanton play.
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