You ruffling roysters every one, We women still for gallant minds SECOND PART. But if so be it chanced The countries were beset, With hue, and cries, and warrants, Into my house I get, And I so being with my maids, Would cloak the matter so, That no man could, by any means, The right offender know. Yet God that still most justly Did bring unto confusion, Were strangely brought to light, And such desert I had by law As justice claim'd by right, Upon the heath of Misseldon, I met a woman there, And robb'd her as from market Which woman call'd me by my name, For which even with her life's dear blood But after I had wounded This woman unto death, And that her bleeding body Was almost reft of breath :/ She gave a groan, and therewithall Three drops of blood, that never could For after I returned Unto my house again, It more appeared plain: Each hour I thought that beasts and birds Or that the air so vile a deed So heavy at my conscience The same for to bewray, And to my servants made it known, For blood can never secret rest, My servants to the justices And had my just desert, E'en such a death let all them have, That bear so false a heart. So farewell, earthly pleasure, Which causeth me to rue. Lascivious and ill, Which without God's great mercy Both soul and body kill. · Be warned by this story You ruffling roysters all; The higher that you climb in sin, And since the world so wicked is, Let all desire grace, Grant, Lord, that I the last may be XLVI. THE MAIDEN'S TRAGEDY, OR, A brief Account of a young Damsell near Wolverhampton, who cut her throat in despair, because she could not have the man she loved. To the tune of Russell's Farewell. NEAR Wolverhampton liv'd a maid, Her yielding heart was soon betray'd, A young man courted her we find, Here do I languish in distress, False-hearted Thomas call to mind, Your loyal lover now at last, And fill my heart with woe, Which will my life and glory blast, And prove my overthrow. I courted was both day and night, At length I gave consent, This done my love he straight did slight, And leaves me to lament; |