An Excellent BALLAD OF Noble Marquess and Patient Grissel. To the Tune of, The Bride's Good-morrow, etc.
|
A Noble Marquess
|
As he did ride ahunting,
|
hard by a forrest side,
|
A fair and comely Maiden,
|
As she did sit aspinning,
|
his gentle eye espy'd:
|
Most fair and lovely,
|
And of comely grace was she,
|
although in simple attire;
|
She sung full sweetly,
|
With pleasant voice melodiously,
|
which set the Lord's heart on fire.
|
The more he lookt, the more he might,
|
Beauty bred his heart's delight:
|
And to this Damosel
|
then he went with speed,
|
God speed, quod he, thou famous Flower,
|
Fair Mistress of this homely bower,
|
Where love and vertue
|
dwells with sweet content.
|
With comely gesture
|
And modest mild behaviour,
|
she bids him welcome then;
|
She entertained him
|
In faithful friendly manner,
|
and all his Gentlemen:
|
The noble Marquess
|
In his heart felt such a flame,
|
which set his semses all at strife,
|
Quoth he, Fair Maiden,
|
Shew me soon what is thy name,
|
I mean to make thee my Wife.
|
Grissel is my name, quoth she,
|
For unfit for your degree;
|
silly Maiden,
|
And of Parents poor.
|
Nay, Grissel, thou art rich, he said,
|
A vertuous, fair and comely Maid:
|
Grant me thy love,
|
and I will ask no more.
|
At length she consented,
|
And being both contented,
|
they married were with speed;
|
Her country russet
|
Was chang'd to silk and velvet,
|
as to her state agreed:
|
And when that she
|
Was trimly tired in the same,
|
her beauty shin'd most bright,
|
Far staining every other
|
Fair and princely Dame,
|
that did appear in sight:
|
Many envied her therefore,
|
Because she was of Parents poor,
|
And 'twixt her Lord and she
|
great strife did raise:
|
Some said this, and some said that,
|
And some did call her Beggar's Brat,
|
And to her Lord
|
they wou'd her oft dispraise:
|
O noble Marquess,
|
Quoth they, why dist thou wrong us,
|
thus basely for to wed,
|
Who might have gotten
|
An honourable Lady
|
into your princely bed?
|
Who will not now
|
Your noble Issue soon deride,
|
which shall hereafter be born,
|
That are of blood so base
|
Born by the Mother's side,
|
the which will bring them in scorn?
|
Put her therefore quite away,
|
And take to you a Lady gay,
|
Wherby your Lineage
|
may renowned be.
|
Thus every day they seem'd to prate
|
That malic'd Grissels good estate;
|
Who all this while
|
took it most patiently.
|
When that the Marquess
|
Did see they were bent thus,
|
against his lawful Wife,
|
Whom he most dearly,
|
Tenderly and intirely
|
beloved as his life;
|
Minding in secret
|
For to try her patient heart,
|
thereby her Foes for to disgrace,
|
Thinking to shew her
|
A hard discourteous part,
|
that Men might pity her case;
|
Great with Child the Lady was,
|
And at the last it came to pass,
|
Two goodly Children
|
at one birth she had;
|
A Son and Daughter God had sent,
|
Which did their Morther well content,
|
And which did make
|
their Father's heart full glad.
|
Great royal feasting
|
Was at these Childrens christening,
|
and princely triumph made;
|
Six weeks together
|
All Nobles that came thither,
|
were entertain'd and staid;
|
And when that all the pleasant
|
Sporting quite was done,
|
the Marquess a Messenger sent
|
For his young Daughter
|
And his pritty smiling Son;
|
declaring his full intent,
|
How that the Babes must murdered be,
|
For so the Marquess did decree:
|
Come let me have
|
the Children then, he said;
|
With that fair Grissel wept full sore,
|
She wrung her hands, and said no more
|
My gracious Lord
|
must have his will obey'd.
|
She took the Babes
|
Even from the Nursing-ladies,
|
between her tender arms;
|
She often wishes
|
With many sorrowful kisses,
|
that she might ease their harms:
|
Farewel, farewel,
|
A thousand times my Children dear;
|
never shall I see you again;
|
'Tis long of me
|
Your sad and woful Mother here,
|
for whose sake both must be slain,
|
Had I been born of Royal Race,
|
You might have liv'd in happy case.
|
But you must die
|
for my unworthiness;
|
Come Messenger of Death, quoth she,
|
Take my dearest Babes to thee,
|
And to their Father
|
my complaints express.
|
He took the Children,
|
And to his noble Master
|
he bore them thence with speed,
|
Who in secret sent them
|
Unto a noble Lady,
|
to be brought up indeed:
|
Then to fair Grissel
|
With a heavy heart he goes,
|
where she sat mildly all alone;
|
A pleasant gesture,
|
And a lovely look she shows,
|
as if no grief she had known:
|
Quod he, My Children now are slain,
|
What thinks fair Grissel of the same?
|
Sweet Grissel now
|
declare thy mind to me.
|
Sith you my Lord are pleas'd with it,
|
Poor Grissel thinks this action fit;
|
Both I and mine
|
at your command will be.
|
My Nobles murmur,
|
Fair Grissel, at thy honour,
|
and I no joy can have,
|
Till thou be banish'd
|
Both from my court and presence,
|
as they unjustly crave:
|
Thou must be strip'd
|
Of thy brave garments all,
|
and as thou cam'st to me
|
In homely gray,
|
Instead of biss and purest pall,
|
now all thy cloathing must be.
|
My Lady thou must be no more,
|
Nor I thy Lord, which grieves me sore;
|
The poorest l[i]fe
|
must now content thy mind:
|
A groat to thee I dare not give,
|
Thee to maintain while I do live,
|
Against my Grissel,
|
such great Foes I find.
|
When gentle Grissel
|
Did hear these woful tydings,
|
the tears stood in her eyes,
|
Nothing she answered,
|
No words of discontentment
|
did from her lips arise.
|
Her velvet gown
|
Most patiently she stripped off,
|
her kertle of silk with the same;
|
Her russet gown
|
Was brought again with many a scoff,
|
to hear them herself she did frame:
|
When she was drest in this array,
|
And ready for to pass away,
|
God send long life
|
unto my Lord, quoth she;
|
Let no offence be found in this,
|
To give my Lord a parting-kiss;
|
With watery eyes,
|
Farewel, my Dear, said she.
|
From princely palace
|
Unto her Father's cottage
|
poor Grissel she is gone;
|
Full fifteen winters
|
She lived there contented,
|
no wrong she thought upon.
|
And at this time through
|
All the land the speeches went,
|
The Marquess should married be
|
Unto a noble Lady
|
Of high descent,
|
and to the same all Parties did agree
|
The Marquess sent for Grissel fair,
|
The Brides bed-chamber to prepare,
|
That nothing therein
|
might be found awry.
|
The Bride was with her Brother come,
|
Which was great joy to all and some:
|
But Grissel took all this
|
most patiently.
|
And in the morning
|
Whenas they should be wedded,
|
her patience there was try'd,
|
Grissel was charged
|
Herself in friendly manner
|
for to attire the Bride:
|
Most willingly
|
She gave consent to do the same;
|
the Bride in bravery was drest,
|
And presently
|
The noble Marquess thither came,
|
with all his Lords at his request:
|
O Grissel, I will ask of thee
|
If to this match thou wilt agree?
|
Methinks thy looks
|
are waxed wondrous coy,
|
With that they all began to smile,
|
And Grissel she reply'd the while,
|
God send Lord Marquess
|
many years of joy.
|
The Marquess was moved,
|
To see his best Beloved
|
thus patient in distress;
|
He stept unto her,
|
And by the hand he took her,
|
these words he did express:
|
Thou art my Bride,
|
And all the Brides I mean to have;
|
these two thine own Children be.
|
The youthful Lady
|
On her knees did blessing crave,
|
her Brother as well as she.
|
And you that envy her estate,
|
Whom I have made my chosen Mate,
|
Now blush for shame,
|
and honour vertuous life;
|
The Chronicles of lasting fame,
|
Shall evermore extol the name
|
Of Patient GRISSEL,
|
my most constant Wife.
|
|
|
|
|
|