Page:A Lamentable Ballad of Little Musgrove, and the Lady Barnet (W. O.) 2.jpg

A Lamentable Ballad of Little Muſgrove, and the Lady Barnet.
To an excellent new Tune.

As it fell out on a high Holy-day,
 as many more be in the Year,
Muſgrove would to the Church and pray,
 to ſee the fair Lady’s there:
Gallants there were of good Degree,
 for Beauty exceeding fair,
Moſt wondrous lovely to the Eye,
 which did to the Church repair.

Some come down in Red Velvet,
 and ſome come down in Pall,
The next came down my Lady Barnet,
 the faireſt amongſt them all;
She caſt a Look at little Muſgrove,
 as bright as the Summer’s Sun;
Full well then perceived little Muſgrove,
 Lady Barnet’s Love he had won.

The Lady Barnet meek and mild,
 ſaluted the little Muſgrove,
Who did reply her kind Courteſie,
 with Favour and gentle Love:
I have a Bower in merry Barnet,
 beſtrowed with Couſlips ſweet,
If that you pleaſe, little Muſgrove,
 in Love me there to meet,

Within my Arms one Night to ſleep,
 for you my Love have won;
You need not fear my ſuſpicious Lord,
 for he from home is gone.
Betide my Life, betide my Death,
 this Night I will lie with thee;
And for thy ſake I’ll hazard my Breath,
 ſo dear is thy Love to me,

What ſhall we do with our little Foot-page
 our Counſel for to keep,
And watch for fear Lord Barnet come,
 while we together ſleep?
Red Gold ſhall be his Hire, quoth he,
 and Silver ſhall be his Fee,
So he our Counſel ſafely keep,
 that I may ſleep with thee.

I will have none of your Gold, he ſaid,
 nor none of your Silver Fee;
If I ſhould keep your Counſel, Sir,
 ’twere great Diſloyalty:
I will not be falſe unto my Lord,
 for Houſe nor yet for Land;
But if my Lady prove untrue,
 Lord Barnet ſhall underſtand.

Then ſwiftly ran this little Foot-page,
 unto his Lord with ſpeed,
He then was feaſting with his own Friends,
 not dreaming of this Deed;
Moſt ſpeedily the Page did haſte,
 moſt ſwiftly he did run,
And when he came to the broken Bride,
 he bent his breaſt and ſwam.

The Page did make no ſtay at all,
 but went to the Lord with ſpeed,
That he the Truth might tell to him,
 concerning this wicked Deed:
He found his Lord at ſupper then,
 great Merriment they did keep;
My Lord, qd. he, this Night on my Word,
 Muſgrove with your Lady doth ſleep.

If this be true, my little Foot-page,
 and true that thou telleſt to me,
My eldeſt Daughter I’ll give thee,
 and wedded thou ſhalt be:
If this be a Lie, my little Foot-page,
 and a Lie thou telleſt to me,
A new Pair of Gallows ſhall be ſet up,
 and hanged thou ſhalt be.

If this be a Lie, my Lord, ſaid he,
 and a Lie that thou heareſt of me,
Never ſtay a Pair of Gallows to make,
 but hang me upon the next Tree.
Lord Barnet call’d his merry Men all,
 away with ſpeed he would go,
His Heart was ſo perplext with Grief,
 the truth of this he muſt know.

Saddle your Horſes with ſpeed, he ſaid,
 and ſaddle me my white ſteed,
If this be true the Page hath ſaid,
 Muſgrove ſhall repent this Deed:
He charged his Men to make no Noiſe,
 as they rode along the Way,
Nor wind no Horn (quoth he) for your Life,
 leaſt our coming it ſhould betray.

But one of them that Muſgrove did love,
 did reſpected his Friendſhip moſt dear,
To give notice Lord Barnet was come,
 did wind the Bugle moſt clear;
And evermore as he did ſound,
 Away Muſgrove, and away,
For if he take thee with my Lady,
 then ſlain thou ſhalt be this Day.

O hark, fair Lady, your Lord is near,
 I hear his little Horn blow,
And if he find me in your Arms thus,
 then ſlain I ſhall be I know.
O lie ſtill, lie ſtill, little Muſgrove,
 and keep my Back from the Cold,
I know it is my Father’s Shepheard,
 driving Sheep to the Pinfold.

Muſgrove did turn him round about,
 ſweet Slumber his Eyes did greet,
When he did awake then did he eſpy
 Lord Barnet at the Bed’s Feet:
O riſe up, riſe up, thou little Muſgrove,
 and put thy Cloathing on,
It never ſhall be ſaid in England fair,
 that I ſlew a naked Man.

Here is two Swords, Lord Barnet ſaid,
 Muſgrove, thy Choice now make:
The beſt of them thyſelf ſhall have,
 and I the worſt will take:
The firſt Blow Muſgrove did ſtrike,
 he wounded Lord Barnet ſore;
The ſecond Blow Lord Barnet gave,
 Muſgrove could ſtrike no more.

He took his Lady by the white Hand,
 all Love to Rage convert,
And with his Sword in furious wiſe
 he pierc’d her tender Heart:
A Grave, a Grave, Lord Barnet cry’d,
 prepare to lay us in,
My Lady ſhall lie on the Upper-ſide,
 ſhe’s the better Kin.

Then ſuddenly he ſlew himſelf,
 which griev’d his Friends full ſore;
And each of theſe three worthy Wights,
 with tears they did deplore:
This ſad Miſchief by Luſt was wrought,
 then let us call for Grace,
That we may ſhun this wicked Vice,
 and fly from Sin apace.

Printed by and for W. O. and to be ſold by the Bookſellers of Pye-corner and ⟨London-bridge.⟩