[...] Dity vpon the death of ROBERT DEVEREVX, late Earle of Essex, who was beheaded in the Tower of London, on Ashwensday in the Morning.
To the tune of Welladay.
[...] pride is gon
[...]
[...]ay,
[...] sigh & grone
[...]
[...]
[...]ore,
[...],
[...]
[...] him still
[...]
[...]ntly,
[...]
[...] of ill,
[...]
[...]wne:
[...]
[...]oule
[...]end
[...] e're hath end
[...]
[...]e vertues friend
[...].
[...] passe
[...]
[...]ntly:
[...] was
[...]
[...]s séene,
[...] Quéene,
[...]
[...]dome béene
[...] at home,
[...]
[...]ntly,
[...] was none,
[...]
[...]ine,
[...] name
[...]
[...]ame,
[...]
[...]le
[...]
[...]
[...]aile,
[...]
[...]e,
[...]
[...]
[...]e,
That first began the strife,
And caused him to loose his life,
And others did the like,
As well as hée.
Yet her Princely Maiestie
graciously, graciously,
Hath pardon giuen frée
to many of them:
[...]e hath released them quite,
[...]nd giuen them their right,
[...]hey may pray both day and night
God to defend her.
Shro
[...]e tuesday in the night,
welladay, welladay,
With a heauy harted spright
as it is sayd:
The leistenant of the Tower
Who kept him in his power,
At ten a clocke that houre,
To him did come.
And sayd vnto him there,
mournefully, mournfully
My Lord you must prepare,
to die to morrow:
Gods will be done quoth he,
Yet shall you strangely sée,
God strong in me to be,
Though I am weake.
I pray you pray for me
welladay, welladay,
That God may strengthen me,
against that houre:
Then straightway did he call
The Guard vnder the wall,
And did intreate them all
For him to pray.
For to morrow is the day,
welladay welladay,
That I the debt must pay,
which I doe owe:
It is my life I meane,
w
c I must pay my Quéene,
Euen so hath iustice giuen,
That I must doe.
In the morning was be broght
welladay welladay:
Where a Scaffold was set vp,
within the Tower:
Many Lords were present then,
With other Gentlemen,
Which were appoynted then
To sée him dye.
You noble Lords quoth he
welladay welladay,
That must the witnesse be,
of this my death:
know I neuer lou'd papistrie
But did It still defie,
And Essex thus did dye,
Héere in this place.
I haue a sinner béen
welladay welladay:
Yet neuer wrong'd my Quéene
in all mylife,
My God I did offend,
which grie
[...]es me at my end,
May all the rest amend,
I doe forgiue them.
To the state I ne're ment ill
welladay, welladay,
neither wisht y
e commons ill,
in all my life:
But loued all with my heart,
And alwayes tooke their part
Whereas there was desart,
In any place.
Then mildely did he craue
mournefully mournefully,
He might that fauour haue
priuate to pray:
He then prayed heartely,
And with great feruency,
To God thae sits on hie,
For to receiue him.
And then he prayed againe
mournfully mournfully,
God to preserue his Quéene
from all her foes:
And send her long to raigne,
True Iustice to maintaine,
And not to let proude
Spaine,
Once to offend her.
His gowne he slipt of then
welladay welladay,
And put off his hat and band
and hung it by,
Praying still continually,
To God that sits on hie,
That he might patiently,
There suffer death.
My headesman that must be,
then saide he chéerefullie,
Let him come héere to me,
That I may him sée:
Who knéeled to him then,
Art thon (quoth he) the man,
Which art appointed now,
my life to frée?
Yes my Lord did he say
welladay, welladay,
Forgiue me I you pray
for this your death:
I heare doe thée forgiue,
And may true iustice liue,
No foule crime to forgiue,
Within their place.
then he knéeled down againe,
mournefully mournfully,
And was required by some
there standing by:
To forgiue his enemies.
Before death closde his eyes
which he did in heartie wise,
Thanking them for it.
That they would rememher him
welladay, welladay;
That he might forgiue al them, leaue
that had him wrōg'd:
Now my Lords I take my,
swéet Christ my soule receiue
Now when you wil prepare,
For I am readie.
He laid his head on the bl
[...]ck
welloday welladay:
But his doublet did let th
[...]e stroke
some there did say:
what must be don (quoth he)
Shall be done presently,
Then his doublet off put he,
and laid downe againe.
Then his headesman did his part
cruelly, cruelly,
He was neuer séene to start,
For all the blowes:
His soule it is at rest,
in heauen among the blest,
Where God send vs to rest,
[...] it shall please him.
Finnis.
LONDON. Printed by Edward-Allde.
A lamentable new Ballad vpon the Earle of Essex death.
To the tune of the Kings last Good-night.
ALL you that cry,
O hone O hone
come now and sing, O Lord with me,
For why our Iewell is from vs gone,
the valiant Knight of Chiualrie:
Of rich and poore beloued was he,
in time an honorable Knight,
When by our Lawes condemd to dye,
and lately tooke his last Good night.
Count him not like to Saint nor
Campion,
(those traitrous men) or
Babington,
Nor like the Earle of
Westmerland,
by whom a number were vndone:
He neuer yet hurt mothers sonne,
his quarrell stil maintaind the right:
Which makes y
t tears my cheeks down run:
when I thinke on his last Good-night.
The
Portingales can witnes be,
his Dagger at
Lisbone gate he flung,
And like a knight of Chiualrie,
his chaine vpon the gate he hung:
Would God that he would thither come,
to fetch them both in order right:
Which thing was by his honor done,
yet lately tooke his last Good-night.
The Frenchmen they can testifie,
the towns of
Gourney he tooke in:
And marched to
Roane immediately,
not caring for his foes a pin.
With bullets then he pierced their skin,
and made them flée far from his sight:
He at that time did credit win,
and now hath tane his last Good-night.
And stately
Cales can witnes well:
euen by his Proclamation right,
He did command them all straightly,
to haue a care of Infants liues:
That none should ravish maide nor wife,
Which was against their order right:
Therefore they praid for his long life,
which lately tooke his last Good-night.
Would God he had ne're
Ireland knowne,
nor set his féet on
Flanders ground:
Then might we well inioyed our owne,
where now our Iewell will not be found.
Which makes our woes still to abound,
trickling with salt teares in my sight:
To heare his name in our eares to found,
Lord
Deuereux tooke his last Goodnight.
Ashwednesday that dismall day,
when he came forth of his Chamber doore,
Vpon the Scaffold there he saw,
his headsman standing him before.
The Nobles all they did deplore,
shedding their salt teares in his sight:
He said, farewell to rich and poore,
at his good morrow and good-night.
Farewell
Elizabeth my gratious Quéene,
God blesse thée and thy counsell all:
Farewell my Knights of Chiualrie,
farewell my soldiers stout and tall:
Farewell the Commons great and small,
into the hands of men I light:
My life shall make amends for all,
for
Essex bids the world good-night.
Farewell deare wife and children thrée,
farewell my young and tender son,
Comfort your selues mourne not for me,
although your fall be now begun:
My time is come the glasse is run,
comfort your selues in former light,
Séeing by my fall you are vndone,
your Father bids the world Good-night.
Derrick thou knowst at
Cales I sav'd
thy life, lost for a rape there done,
Which thou thy selfe canst testifye,
thine owne hand thrée and twenty hung:
But now thou féest my time is come,
by chance into thy hands I light.
Strike out thy blow that I may know,
thou
Essex lou'dst at his good-night.
When
England counted me a Papist,
the workes of Papists I defie,
I nere worshipt Saint, nor Angell in heauen,
nor to the Virgin
Mary I,
But to Christ which for my sinnes did dye,
trickling with sad teares in his sight:
Spreading my armes to God on high,
Lord Iesus, receiue my soule this night.
FINIS.
Imprinted at London by E. A.