A Lamentable Ballad of Little Musgrove, and the Lady Barnet.
To an excellent new Tune.
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AS it fell out on a high Holy-day,
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as many more be in the Year,
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Musgrove would to the Church and pray,
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to see the fair Lady's there:
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Gallants there were of good Degree,
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for Beauty exceeding fair,
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Most wondrous lovely to the Eye,
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which did to the Church repair.
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Some come down in Red Velvet,
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and some come down in Pall,
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The next came down my Lady Barnet,
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the fairest amongst them all;
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She cast a Look at little Musgrove,
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as bright as the Summer's Sun;
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Full well then perceived little Musgrove,
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Lady Barnets Love he had won.
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The Lady Barnet meek and mild,
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saluted the little Musgrove,
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Who did reply her kind Courtesie,
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with Favour and gentle Love:
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I have a Bower in merry Barnet,
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bestrowed with Couslips sweet,
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If that you please, little Musgrove,
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in Love me there to meet,
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Within my Arms one Night to sleep,
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for you my Love have won;
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You need not fear my suspicious Lord,
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for he from home is gone.
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Betide my Life, betide my Death,
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this Night I will lie with thee;
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And for thy sake I'll hazard my Breath,
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so dear is thy Love to me,
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What shall we do with our little Foot-page
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our Counsel for to keep,
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And watch for fear Lord Barnet come,
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while we together sleep?
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Red Gold shall be his Hire, quoth he,
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and Silver shall be his Fee,
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So he our Counsel safely keep,
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that I may sleep with thee.
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I will have none of your Gold, he said,
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nor none of your Silver Fee;
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If I should keep your Counsel, Sir,
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great Disloyalty:
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I will not be false unto my Lord,
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for House nor yet for Land;
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But if my Lady prove untrue,
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Lord Barnet shall understand.
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Then swiftly ran this little Foot-page,
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unto his Lord with speed,
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He then was feasting with his own Friends,
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not dreaming of this Deed;
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Most speedily the Page did haste,
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most swiftly he did run,
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And when he came to the broken Bride,
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he bent his breast and swam.
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The Page did make no stay at all,
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but went to the Lord with speed,
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That he the Truth might tell to him,
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concerning this wicked Deed:
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He found his Lord at supper then,
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great Merriment they did keep;
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My Lord, quod he, this Night on my Word,
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Musgrove with your Lady doth sleep.
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If this be true, my little Foot-page,
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and true that thou tellest to me,
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My eldest Daughter I'll give thee,
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and wedded thou shalt be:
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If this be a Lie, my little Foot-page,
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and a Lie thou tellest to me,
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A new Pair of Gallows shall be set up,
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and hanged thou shalt be.
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If this be a Lie, my Lord, said he,
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and a Lie that thou hearest of me,
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Never stay a Pair of Gallows to make,
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but hang me upon the next Tree.
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Lord Barnet call'd his merry Men all,
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away with speed he would go,
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His Heart was so perplext with Grief,
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the truth of this he must know.
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Saddle your Horses with speed, he said,
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and saddle me my white steed,
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If this be true the Page hath said,
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Musgrove shall repent this Deed:
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He charged his Men to make no Noise,
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as they rode along the Way,
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Nor wind no Horn (quoth he) for your Life,
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least our coming it should betray.
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But one of them that Musgrove did love,
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did respected his Friendship most dear,
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To give notice Lord Barnet was come,
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did wind the Bugle most clear;
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And evermore as he did sound,
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Away Musgrove, and away,
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For if he take thee with my Lady,
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then slain thou shalt be this Day.
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O hark, fair Lady, your Lord is near,
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I hear his little Horn blow,
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And if he find me in your Arms thus,
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then slain I shall be I know.
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O lie still, lie still, little Musgrove,
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and keep my Back from the Cold,
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I know it is my Father's Shepheard,
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driving Sheep to the Pinfold.
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Musgrove did turn him round about,
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sweet Slumber his Eyes did greet,
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When he did awake then did he espy
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Lord Barnet at the Bed's Feet:
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O rise up, rise up, thou little Musgrove,
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and put thy Cloathing on,
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It never shall be said in England fair,
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that I slew a naked Man.
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Here is two Swords, Lord Barnet said,
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Musgrove, thy Choice now make:
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The best of them thyself shall have,
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and I the worst will take:
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The first Blow Musgrove did strike,
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he wounded Lord Barnet sore;
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The second Blow Lord Barnet gave,
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Musgrove could strike no more.
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He took his Lady by the white Hand,
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all Love to Rage convert,
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And with his Sword in furious wife
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he pierc'd her tender Heart:
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A Grave, a Grave, Lord Barnet cry'd,
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prepare to lay us in,
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My Lady shall lie on the Upper-side,
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she's the better Kin.
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Then suddenly he slew himself,
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which griev'd his Friends full sore;
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And each of these three worthy Wights,
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with tears they did deplore:
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This sad Mischief by Lust was wrought,
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then let us call for Grace,
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That we may shun this wicked Vice,
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and fly from Sin apace.
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