A true Relation of one Susan Higges, dwelling in Risborrow a Towne in Buckinghamshire, and how shee lived 20. yeeres, by robbing on the High-wayes, yet unsuspected of all that knew her; till at last, comming to Messeldon, there robbing a woman; which woman knew her and called her by her name: now when she saw she was betrayed, she killed her, and standing by her while she gave three groanes, she spat three drops of blood in her face, which never could be washt out; by which shee was knowne and executed for the aforesaid murder at the Assises in Lent at Brickhill.
To the tune of, The worthy London Prentice.
TO mourne for my offences,
and former passed sinnes,
This sad and dolefull story,
my heavie heart begins:
Most wickedly I spent my time,
devoid of godly grace:
A lewder woman never liv'd,
I thinke in any place.
Néere Buckingham I dwelled,
and Susan Higges by name,
Well thought of by good Gentlemen,
and Farmers of good fame:
Where thus, for twenty yéeres at least,
I liv'd in gallant sort:
Which made the Countrey marvell much,
to heare of my report.
My state was not maintained,
(as you shall understand)
By good and honest dealings,
nor labour of my hand:
But by deceit and coozening shifts,
the end whereof, we sée
Hath ever béene repaid with shame,
and ever like to be.
My servants were yong country girles,
brought up unto my mind,
By nature faire and beautifull,
and of a gentle kinde:
Who with their swéet entising eyes,
did many Youngsters move
To come by night unto my house,
in hope of further love.
But still at their close méetings,
(as I the plot had laid)
I stept in still at unawares,
while they the wantons plaid,
And would in question bring their names,
except they did agrée
To give me mony for this wrong,
done to my house and me.
This was but petty coozenage,
to things that I have done:
My weapon by the high-way side,
hath me much money won:
In mens attire I oft have rode,
upon a Gelding stout,
And done great robberies valiantly,
the Countries round about.
I had my Scarfes and Vizords,
my face for to disguise:
Sometimes a beard upon my chin,
to blind the peoples eyes:
My Turky Blade, and Pistols good,
my courage to maintaine:
Thus tooke I many a Farmers purse,
well cram'd with golden gaine.
Great store of London Merchants,
I boldly have bid stand,
And shewed my selfe most bravely,
a Woman of my hand:
You ruffling Roysters every one,
in my defence say then,
Wée women still for gallant minds,
may well compare with men.
The second part,
To the same tune.
BVt if so be it chanced,
the Countries were beset,
With hue, and cryes, and warrants,
into my house I get:
And I so being with my Maids,
would cloake the matter so,
That no man could by any meanes,
the right offender know.
Yet God that still most iustly,
doth punish euery vice,
Did bring unto confusion
my fortunes in a trice:
For by a murther all my sinnes
were strangely brought to light,
And such desert I had by law,
as Iustice claim [...]d by right.
Vpon the Heath of Misseldon,
I met a woman there,
And rob'd her, as from Market,
home wards she did repaire,
Which woman cal'd me by my name,
and said that she me knew;
For which even with her lives deare blood,
my hands I did imbrew.
But after I had wounded,
this woman unto death,
And that her bleeding body,
was almost reft of breath,
She gave a groane, and therewithall,
did spit upon my face,
Thrée drops of blood, that never could
he wiped from that place.
For after I returned
unto my house againe.
The more that I it wash'd,
it more appeared plaine:
Each houre I thought that beasts and birds,
this murther would reveale,
Or that the ayre so vile a déed,
no longer would conceale.
So heavie at my conscience,
this wofull murther lay,
That I was soone enforced,
the same for to bewray,
And to my servants made it knowne,
as God appointed me:
For blood can never secret rest,
nor long unpunisht be.
My servants to the Iustices,
declar'd what I had said;
For which I was attached,
and to the Iayle convey'd,
And at the Sises was condemn'd,
and had my iust desert:
Even such a death let all them have
that beare so false a heart.
So fare well earthly pleasure,
my quaintance all adue,
With whom I spent the treasure,
which causeth me to rue.
Leave off your wanton pastimes,
lascivious and ill,
Which without Gods great mercy,
doth soule and body kill.
Be warned by this story,
you ruffling Roysters all:
The higher that you climbe in sinne,
the greater is your fall:
And since the world so wicked is,
let all desire grace,
Grant Lord that I the last may be,
that runneth such a race.
FINIS.
Printed at London for F. C. dwelling in the Old-Baily.