A rare Example of a vertuous Maid in Paris, Who was by her own Mother procured to be put in Prison, thinknig thereby to compel ker to Popery, but she continued to the end, and finished her life in the Fire.

Tune is, O man in desperation.
IT was a Ladies Daughter,
of Paris properly,
Her Mother her commanded
to Mass that she should hie
O pardon me dear mother
her Daughter dear did say;
Unto that filthy Idol,
I never can obey.
With weeping and with wailing,
her mother then did go,
To assemble her kinsfolks,
that they the truth may know;
Who being then assembled,
they did this Maiden call,
And put her into prison,
to fear her there withal,
But where they thought to fear her,
she did most strong endure:
Although her years were tender
her faith was firm and sure:
She weigh'd not their allurements
she fear'd no fiery flame:
she hop'd though Christ her Saviour,
to have immortal fame.
Before the Iudge they brought her,
thinking that she would turn,
And there she was condemned
in fire for to burn:
Instead of golden Bracelets,
with cords they bound her fast:
By God grant me with patience
(quoth she) to die at last.
And on the morrow after,
which was her dying day;
They stript this silly Dantosel
out of her rich array:
Her chain of gold so costly
away from her they take,
And she again most joyfully
did all the world forsake.
Unto the place of torment
they brought her speedily,
With heart and mind most constant,
she willing was to dye:
But seeing many Ladies
assembled in that place:
These words she then pronounced,
samenting then their case.
You Ladies of this City,
mark well my woros (quoth she)
Although I shall be burned,
yet do not pitty me.
Your selves I rather pitty,
I weep for your decay,
Amend your time fair Ladies,
and do no time delay.
Then came her Mother weeping,
her Daughter to behold:
And in her hand she brought her
a book covered with gold.
Throw hence (quoth she) that Idol,
convey it from my sight,
And bring me hit her my Bible,
wherein I most delight.
But my distressed Mother
why weep you? be content,
You have to death delivered me,
most like an innocent:
Tormenter do thine office
on me when thou think'st best,
But God my heavenly father
will bring my soul to rest.
But, D my aged Father,
where ever thou dost lie,
Thou knowst not thy poor daughter.
is ready for to dye:
But yet amongst the Angels,
in heaven I hope to dwell,
Therefore my loving Father
I bid thee now farewel.
Farewel likewise my mother,
adieu my friends also,
God grant that you by others,
may never feel such woe:
Forsake your superstition
the cause of mortal strife:
Imbrace Gods true Religion
for which I lose my life.
When all these words were spoken,
then come the man of death,
Who kindled soon a fire,
which stop'd this Virgins breath:
To Christ her only Saviour
she did her soul commend,
Farewel (quoth she) good people,
and thus she made an end.

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wrigh [...], [...]nd J. Clark,

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