Bloody news from Chelmsford, or, A proper new ballad containing a true and perfect relation of a most barbarous murder committed upon the body of a country curate, who died of a great wound given him in the bottom of his belly by a most cruel country-fellow for being too familiar with his wife : to the tune of Chevy Chase.

Bloody news from Chelmsford, or, A proper new ballad containing a true and perfect relation of a most barbarous murder committed upon the body of a country curate, who died of a great wound given him in the bottom of his belly by a most cruel country-fellow for being too familiar with his wife : to the tune of Chevy Chase.

Table of contents

Bloody News from CHELMSFORD: OR, A Proper New BALLAD, CONTAINING A true and perfect Relation of a most barbarous Murder committed upon the Body of a Country Curate, who dies of a great Wound given him in the bottom of his Belly, by a most Cruel Country-fellow, for being too familiar with his Wife.

The EPITAPH.

§

[Page]

Bloody News from CHELMSFORD: OR, A Proper New BALLAD, CONTAINING A true and perfect Relation of a most barbarous Murder committed upon the Body of a Country Curate, who dies[?] of a great Wound given him in the bottom of his Belly, by a most Cruel Country-fellow, for being too familiar with his Wife.

To the Tune of Chevy Chase.

GIve o'er, ye rhiming Cavaliers,

That jeer'd[?] at every turn;

And sung how Jane towards Elders Cur

In flames of love did burn.

You too that writ how Peters Hugh,

Was Butchers Cuckold-maker;

Or penn'd the Courtship past between

She-Filly, and the Quaker.

But come Droll-rampant Hudibras,

Laureat of Garden-Paris,

Bring me the great Bruino's spoils,

(That Champion that so rare is.)

For I would do as Nero fell

With Primitive Christians did;

I'd make a Cassock for my Priest,

And [...] him in Boar's hide.

In Essex (which like Affrick still

Some Monster is a yeilding,

Where once was bred a Roundheaded Colt,

And now a Cavalier Gelding.)

Neer Chelmsford Town a certain grave

Conforming Parson dwelt,

Chast from the Navil to the Teeth;

Yet this good man was Gelt.

Dull Laymen have small reverence

For any man of worth;

A Churlish whorson did the feat:

Sad Hint for Holder-forth!

He dreaded not his Ghostly face,

Nor Circle of his Girdle,

[...] him like to Traitor, new▪

Cut down, and laid on Hurdle.

Now you that would the story know,

That nothing may escape us,

Hark how poor Levite came to dy

A Martyr to Priapus.

There liv'd a crafty boorish wight

Neer Palace Sacerdotal[?],

Whose Spouse most amiable was.

The Sum of Beauty Total.

Lovelier then she for whom Jove turn'd

Himself to milk-white Bull a:

Fair Rosamond was not so bright,

Nor half so comely Trulla.

[...]er then smiles of Infant day,

[...] Servant can [...]'s to Mistress)

Ah▪ 'twas the Sorcery of that Face▪

Led Teacher into distress.

HE spy'd her first from Pulpit high

In pause, the first Pray'r after,

When zeal had turn'd up white of ey

To stare on Churches rafter.

(Quoth he to self,) why stand I here

(Giving the Glass a jolt)

To utter Sermon by retail

Which might be done by Dolt?

Is not yon Woman purer Text

To handle then an Homily?

Sure 'twould be fruitful truth to teach

Her, duties of a Family.

Thus having thought, in haste he read

To people printed lurry;

Yet, that he could not say't by heart,

For her sake he was sorry.

For now at spawling intervals

His eye did onely taste her,

But race was run with greater speed

Then Nun saies Pater Noster.

The Swain her Husband all this time

Watch't whilst the Parson Pray'd;

He mark't his leers when finger was

At end of Sentence laid.

Observ'd those Arrows shot from sight

At his fair But were level'd.

But swore the Priest had better bin

In mothers womb be-divel'd.

Psalm sung, As from Cornelius Tub,

The Parson came down, reeking;

And till he found that Hobnails house

Vow'd never to lin seeking.

At last he came to humble Cot

Shrine, where his Goddess was

Doublet of Straw, Breeches of clay,

And fundament of Grass.

In Age of Gold, as Poet tells,

(Who seldome see such day)

This was the place where Vertue slept

Upon a lock of Hay.

The Dame, right busy at her work,

Sweet butter was a churning;

When at the motion of the stick

Priest's bowels fell a yeirning.

Fair Nymph (said he) incontinent,

Lay by thy Typical Churn;

(And then the Varlet turn'd aside

To steal a lecherous giern.)

Phy (Angel blest) why should that hand

A wooden Instrument hold,

Design'd to wield a better thing

Then Scepter made with Gold?

Excellent Creature! be as kinde

As fair. "An heart obdurate,

"Is Satan's Anvil, where he knocks?

Shall he knock, and not Curate?

O Woman, put the Dev'l behinde,

But put the Priest before:

Full many a She for Cloke-divine,

Hath done as much, or more.

When I commenced Batchelor,

All Cambridg [...] [...]ld adore me:

Why should a thing of feeble Sex

Think much to fall before me?

"This said: Nay, Pish, the good VVife cry'd:

Nay, stand away, for shame!

"Are you a Minister, and care;

No more for a good Name?

Good Name (quoth he)? with that She smil'd;

And so they snugg'd together:

But He had better slept i'th' street,

Then in her Bed of Feather▪

For just about that fatal hour

VVhen Dev'l came for Doctor-

-Faustus; as Key of Lead had him,

And in a dead Sleep lockt her;

The jealous Bumpkin blunders in:

Unseasonable Guest!

VVelcome as stones in Oats to Horse,

Or Skull at Egypt Feast.

O Caitiff vile, said Country-man;

And catcht him by the throat:

I'll wreck my malice on thy blood,

Thou curst Canonical-Goat.

"Make me a Cuckold, Reading Rogue!

"No Pulpit serve but Susan's?

"Must Susan's Smock your Surplice be?

"I'll take away that Nusance.

"Good husband, (quoth the panting wife)

"Proceed in wrath no further,

"Lest you be turn'd out Churches pale,

"For one committing murder.

"Sir, gentle Sir, the Priest reply'd,

As well as he could speak▪

For Pesant held his Gouty Fist

Hard on his Enemies Neck.

As[?] Tunes, when Finger's taken off,

From Flajolet do come;

So issu'd words from Curate's mouth,

VVhen Lout remov'd his Thumb.

"Sir I confess that I have wrong'd

You, and your loving wife.

Confess and hang, cry'd surly Boor;

(And strait he drew his Knife.)

The glitt'ring[?] Blade, as keen as that

VVhich F [...]lton bought near Tow'r,

Made Susan's heart go Pit-a-pat,

And Lovers face look sow'r.

"Hold, honest Friend, Sir Roger cry'd;

"What? wilt thou take my life?

"No: but I'll seize those arms wherewith

Thou hast subdu'd my VVife.

Though Theologu' wept, and Wife did beg,

Churl slighted words and tears:

And at one gash from Curate took

Musquet and Bandaliers.

Thus RVMP in Forest not content

To fell down Timber tall,

Fanatiqu' Slaves stubb'd root and branch,

Nay, Vnderwoods, and all.

"Now, Sir, (said Swain) if e'er you chance

"Hereafter to be Pope,

"There will not need a sacred Chair

"Your Holiness to [...]rope.

"Go, go, live abaste[?], as Clergy should,

"(Course taken by your betters)

"But come not near to London-town,

"For there live Capon-eaters.

But lo! while Scoundrel thus did taunt

The man of holy Function,

Wife well perceiv'd that body spent

Had need of extream Vnction.

Then did she wring her sweating Palms,

And loudly did complain:

But sighs and groans, and bellows-snout,

To dying Bums[?] are vain.

The blood continually ran

From place as bare as Common;

Yet, even then, good Curate cast

A dying glaunce at Woman.

"Farewel, said he: bid Parsons all

"Beware of Baver's[?] fate:

"For when they shall be serv'd like me,

"Their dumps will be too late.

This said,—the Curates mortal Cask▪

VVith Ribband hoopt[?] about▪

Roll'd down the Hill, and slipp [...] Life

For want of Tap ran out.

The EPITAPH.

COurteous Reader! underneath

These Spires of fading Grass

Lies Curate, who (if VVives may judge)▪

An able Preacher was.

We hope his Soul in Heav'n is safe.

(Though some scarce think so can:)

For, though he sometimes liv'd upright,

He di'd no Perfect Man.

FINIS.

§

§

OXFORD▪ Printed in the Year MDCLXIII.

Information about this book

Title statement

Bloody news from Chelmsford, or, A proper new ballad containing a true and perfect relation of a most barbarous murder committed upon the body of a country curate, who died of a great wound given him in the bottom of his belly by a most cruel country-fellow for being too familiar with his wife : to the tune of Chevy Chase.

Edition statement

1663

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2003-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A28415

ID [STC]

Wing B3263

ID [STC]

ESTC R19728

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

12400177

ID [OCLC]

ocm 12400177

ID [VID]

61254

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A28415)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 61254)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 270:16)

Source

— Bloody news from Chelmsford, or, A proper new ballad containing a true and perfect relation of a most barbarous murder committed upon the body of a country curate, who died of a great wound given him in the bottom of his belly by a most cruel country-fellow for being too familiar with his wife : to the tune of Chevy Chase.,

Extent

1 sheet ([1] p.)

[s.n.],. Oxford :: 1663..

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