The lamentation of Mr Pages wife of Plimouth: VVho being enforced to wed against her will, did consent to his murder for the love of George Strangwidge, for which fact they suffered death at Barstable in Devonshire.
The tune is, Fortune my Foe.
UNhappy she whom fortune hath forlorn,
Despis'd of grace that proffered grace did scorn
My lawless love, hath luckless wrought my woe,
My discontent, content did overthrow.
My loathed life too late I do lament,
My wofull deed in heart I do repent:
A wife I was that wilfull went away,
And for that fault am here prepar'd to dye.
In blooming years my Fathers gréedy mind,
Against my wi [...] a match for me did find,
Great wealth there was, yea, gold and silver store,
But yet my heart had chosen one before.
Mine eyes dislik't my Fathers liking quite,
My heart did loath my Parents fond delight:
My grie [...]er mind and fancy told to me,
That with his Age my youth could not agree.
On knees I [...]ray'd they would not me constrain,
With tears I cry'd, their purpose to reftrain,
With sighs and sobs I did them often move
I might not wed whereas I could not love.
But all in vain my spéeches still I spent,
My Mothers will my wishes did prevent.
Though wealthy Page possest my outward part,
George Strangwindge still was lodged in my heart.
I wedded was, and wrapped all in woe,
Great discontent within my heart did grow,
I loath'd to live, yet liv'd in deadly strife,
Because perforce I was made Pages Wife.
My chosen eyes could not his sight abide,
My tender youth did scorn his aged side
Scant could I taste the meat whereon be fed,
My legs did loath to lodge with in his bed.
Cause knew I none, that should despite him so,
That such disdain within my heart did grow,
Save onely this, that fancy did me move,
And told me still Georg Strangwindge was my love.
But here began my downfal and decay,
In mind I must'd to make him straight away,
I that became his discontented Wife,
Contented was he should be ride of life.
Methinks the heavens cries vengeance for my fact,
Methinks the world condemns my monstrous act
Methinks within, my Conscience tells me true,
That for that déed Hell fire is my due.
My pensive soul doth sorrow for my sin,
For which offence my soul doth bléed within,
But mercy Lord, for mercy still I cry,
Save thou my soul, and let my body dye.
Well could I wish that Page enjoy'd his life,
So that he had some other to his wife,
But never could I wish of low or high,
A longer life then see swéet Strangwidge dye.
O woe is me that had no greater grace,
Lo stay till he had run out natures race:
My déed I rue, but more I do repent,
That to the same my Stangwidge gave consent.
You Parents fond that gréedy minded be,
And seek to graft upon the golden tree:
Consider well, and rightful judges be,
And give your doom, twixt Parents love and me.
I was their Child, and bound for to obey,
Yet not to love where I no love could lay:
I married was in muck and endless strife,
But faith before had made me Strangwidge wife.
O wretched world! whom cankred rust doth blind,
And cursed men who bear a greedy mind;
And hapless I whom Parents did force so
To end my dayes in sorrow, shame, and woe.
You Devonshire Dames, & courteous Cornwal Kts.
That here are come to visit wofull Wights,
Regard my griefe, and mark my wofull end
But to your children be a better friend.
And thou my Dear, which for my fault must dye,
Be not affraid the force of death to try:
Like as we liv'd and lov'd together true,
So both at once lets bid the world adieu.
Vlalia thy friend doth take her last farewel,
Whose soul with thine in heaven do [...] ever dwell,
Swéet Saviour Christ do thou my soul receive,
The world I do with all my heart forgive.
And Parents now whose gréedy minds do show
Your hearts desire, and inward heavy woe,
Mourn you no more, for hope my heart doth tell
Ere day be done, that I shall be full well.
And Plimouth proud I bid thée now farewel,
Take heed you Wives, let not your hands reball,
And farewel life, wherein such sorrow shows
And welcome death that must my Corps enclose.
And now swéet Lord forgive me my misdeeds
Repentance cries for soul that inward bléeds,
My soul and body I commend to thee
That with thy blood from Death redem'd it frée.
Lord bless our King with long and happy life
And send true peace betwixt each man and wife,
And give all Parents wisdome to foresée,
The match is mar'd where minds do not agree.
The Lamentation of George Strangwidge, who for the consenting to the death of Mr. Page of Plimouth, suffered death at Barstable.
THe man that sighs and sorrows for his sin,
The corps which care and wo hath wrapped in,
In dolefull sort records his Swanlike song,
That waits for death, and loaths to live so long.
O Glansfield cause of my committed crime,
Snared in wealth, as birds in bush of lime.
What cause hadst thou to hear such wicked spight?
Against my Love and eke my hearts delight.
I would to God thy wisdome had been more;
Or that I had not entred in thy door.
Or that thou hadst a kinder Father been.
Unto thy Child, whose years are yet but green.
The match unméet which thou for me didst make,
When aged Page thy daughter home did take.
Well mayst thou rue with tears that cannot dry
Which is the cause that four of us must dye.
Vlalia more bright then Summers Sun,
Whose beauty had my love for ever won,
My soul more sobs to think of thy disgrace,
Then to behold my one untimely race.
The déed late done in heart I do repent,
But that I lov'd I cannot it relent,
Thy seemly sight was ever swéet to me
Would God my death would thy excuser be.
It was for me alas thou didst the same,
On me by [...]ight they ought to lay the blame,
My worthless love hath brought my life in scorn,
Now woe so me that ever I was born.
Farewel my Love whose royal heart was séen,
Would God thou hadst not halfe so constant béen,
Farewell my Love the Pride of Plimouth town,
Farewel the flower whose beauty is cut down.
For twéenty years great was the cost I know,
Thy unkind Father did on thée bestow,
Yet afterwards so sower did Fortune lower,
He lost his joy and child within an hour.
My wrong and woe [...]o God I do commit,
Who was the cause of matching them unfit,
And yet my guilt I cannot so excuse,
We gave consent his life for to abuse.
Wretch that I am that my consent did give,
Had I deny'd, Vlalia still should live,
Blind fancy said do not this suit deny,
Live thou in bliss, or else in sorrow dye.
O Lord forgive this cruel death of mine,
Upon my soul let beams of mercy shine,
In justice Lord do thou no vengeance take,
Forgive us both, for Jesus Christ his sake.
The Complaint of Mrs. Page forcausing her Husband to be murdered for the love of George Strangwidge, who were executed together.
IF ever woe did touch a womans heart,
Or grief did gall for sin the outward part,
My conscience then and heavy heart within,
Can witnesse well the sorrow for my sin.
When years were young my Father forc'd me wed,
Against my will, were fancy was not fed.
I was content his pleasure to obey.
Although my heart was link'd another way.
Great were the gifts they proffered in my sight,
With wealth they thought to win me to delight.
But gold nor gifts could not my mind remove,
For I was linkt whereas I could not love.
Methought his sight was loathsome to my eye
My heart did grudge against him inwardly,
This discontent did cause my deadly strife.
And with his wealth I liv'd a grievous life.
My constant love was on young Strangwidge set,
And wo to him that did our welfare let,
His love so deep a root in me did take,
I could have gone a begging for his sake.
Wronged he was through fond desire of gain
Wronged he was even through my Parents plain,
If Faith and troth a perfect pledge might be,
I had béen wife unto no man but he.
Eternal God forgive my Fathers déed,
And grant all Maidens may take better héed,
If I had béen constant unto my friend,
I had not matcht to make so bad an end.
But wanting grace I sought my own decay,
And was the cause to make my friend away.
And be on whom my earthly joyes did lye,
Through my amiss a shameful death must dye.
Farewel swéet George always my loving friend
Néeds must I laud and love thée to the end.
And albeit that Page possest thy due,
In sight of God thou wast my husband true.
My watry eyes unto the heavens I bend,
Craving of Christ his mercy to extend.
My bloody déed O Lord do me forgive,
And let my soul within thy Kingdom live.
Farewel false world and Friends that fickle be,
All wives Farewel, example take by me.
Let not the Devil to murder you intice,
Séek to escape such foul and filthy vice.
And now O Christ to thée I yield my breath,
Strengthen my Faith in bitter pangs of death.
Forgive my faults and folly I thée pray,
And with thy blood wash thou my sins away.
Printed for F. Coles. Tho. Vere and W. Gilbertson.