The Norfolke Gentleman his last VVill and Testament: And how hee committed the keeping of his Children to his owne brother, who dealt most wickedly with them: and how God plagued him for it.
To the tune of Rogero.
NOw ponder well you parents deare,
the words which I shall write,
A dolefull story you shall heare,
which time hath brought to light.
A Gentleman of good account,
in Norfolke liu'd of late,
Whose wealth and riches did surmount
most men of his estate,
Sore sicke he was and like to die,
no helpe that he could haue,
His wife by him as sicke did lie,
and both possest one graue.
No loue betwéene these two was lost,
each was to other kinde,
In loue they liued, in loue they dide,
and left two Babes behinde.
The one a fine and pretty Boy,
not passing thrée yeares old.
The next a Girlemore young than hée,
and made of beauties mold.
This Father left his little sonne,
as well it doth appeare,
When hée to perfect age should come,
thrée hundred pounds a yeare.
And to his little daughter Iane,
thrée hundred pounds in Gold,
To be paid downe at mariage day,
which might not be contrould;
But if these Children chance to die,
ere they to age should come,
Their Vncle should possesse this wealth,
and so the Will did runne.
Now Brother said the dying man,
looke to my Children deare,
Be good unto my Boy and Girle,
no friends I else haue here.
To God and you I doe commend
my Children night and day,
A little time be sure wée haue
within this world to stay.
You must be father and mother both,
and Vncle all in one,
God knowes what will become of them,
when wée are dead and gone.
With that bespake their mother deare,
O brother mine (quoth shée)
You are the man must bring my Babes,
to wealth or misery.
If you do kéepe them carefully,
then God will you reward,
If otherwise you séeme to deale,
your déede God will regard,
With lips as cold as any clay,
shée kist her Children small,
God blesse you both my little lambes,
with that the teares did fall.
These spéeches then their brother spoke
to this sick couple there,
The kéeping of your Children young,
swéet sister do not feare;
God neuer prosper mée nor mine,
or ought else that I haue,
If I do wrong your Children small,
when you are laid in graue.
Their Parents being dead and gone,
the children home hée takes,
And brings them home unto his house,
and much of them hée makes.
Hée had not kept these pretty Babes,
a tweluemonth and a day:
But for their wealth hée did deuise,
to make them both away.
Hée bargain'd with two Ruffians rude,
that were of furious mood,
That they should take the children young
and slay them in the Wood:
And told his Wife and all the rest,
he did the Children send,
To be brought up in faire London,
with one that was his friend.
The second part,
To the same tune.
AWay then went these pretty Babes,
reioycing of that tide,
And smiling with a merry minde,
they should on cockhorse ride.
They prate and prattle pleasantly,
as they rode on their way,
To them that should their butchers bée,
and worke their lives dee [...]y.
So that the pretty spéech they had,
made murtherers hearts relent,
And that they tooke this déede to doe,
full sore they did repent:
Yet one of them more hard of heart.
did vow to doe his charge,
Because the wretch that hired them,
had paid them very large.
The other would not grée thereto,
so here they fell at strife,
With one another they did fight,
about these Childrens life
And he that was of mildest mood,
did kill the other there,
Within an vnfrequented Wood,
whiles Babes did quake for feare.
He tooke the children by the hand,
when teares stood in their eye,
And bade them come and goe with him,
and looke they did not cry.
And two long miles hee led them thus,
when they for bread complaine,
Stay here (quoth he) Ile bring you bread
when I doe come againe.
Those pretty Babes with hand in hand,
went wandering vp and downe,
But neuer more they saw the man,
approaching from the towne.
Their pretty lips with black-berries,
were all be smear'd and dy'd,
And when they saw the darksome night,
they sate them downe and cry'd.
Thus wandred these two little Babes
till death did end their greife.
In one anothers armes they dy'd,
as Babes wanting reliefe.
No buriall these pretty Babes
of any man receiues,
Till Robin Redbrest painefully,
did couer them with leaues,
And now the heauy wrath of God,
vpon their Vncle fell:
Yea fearefull fiends did haunt his house
his conscience felt an hell.
His barns were fir'd, his goods consum'd,
his land was barren made,
His cattle dy'd within the fields,
and nothing with him staid,
And in the voyage of Portugall,
two of his sonnes did die,
And to conclude, himselfe was brought,
to extreame misery.
He pawn'd and morgag'd all his land,
ere seaven yeares went about.
And now at length this wicked act,
did by this meanes come out.
The fellow which did take in hand,
the Children for to kill,
Was for a robery iudg'd to death,
as was Gods blessed will,
Who did confesse the very truth,
the which is here exprest,
Their Vncle died, while he for debt,
in prison long did rest.
Al you that be Executors made,
and ouerséeers eke,
Of children that be fatherlesse,
of Infants mild and méeke,
Take you example by the same,
and yéeld to each their right,
Lest God with such like misery,
your wicked minde require,
FINIS.
Printed for I. W.