[...] complaint and lamentation of Mistresse Arden of [...]rsham in Kent, who for the loue of one Mosbie, hired certaine Ruffians [...] Villaines most cruelly to murder her Husband; with the fatall end of her and her Associats.
To the tune of,
Fortune my Foe.
AY me, vile wretch, that euer I was borne,
Making my selfe vnto the world a scorne:
And to my friends and kindred all a shame,
Blotting their blood by my vnhappy name.
Vnto a Gentleman of wealth and fame,
(One Master
Arden, he was call'd by name)
I wedded was with ioy and great content,
Liuing at
Feuersham in famous
Kent.
In loue we liu'd, and great tranquility,
Vntill I came in
Mosb
[...]es company,
Whose sugred tongue, good shapt, and louely looke,
So one won my heart, and
Ardens leue forsooke.
And liuing thus in foule adultery,
Bred in my husband cause of iealousie,
And left the world our actions should bewray,
Wee did consent to take his life away.
To
London faire my Husband was to ride,
But ere he went I poyson did prouide,
Got of a Painter which I promised
That
Mosbies sister
Susan he should wed.
Into his Broth▪ then did put the same,
He lik't it not when to the boord it came,
Saying, There's something in it is not so
[...]dd,
At which inrag'd, I fiung it on the ground.
Yet ere he went, his man
I did coniure,
Ere they came home, to make his Master sure,
And murder him, and for his faith and paine,
Susan, and store of gold that he should gaine.
Yet I misdoubting
Michaels constancy,
Knowing a Neighbour that was dwelling by,
Which, to my husband bore no great good will,
[...]ought to incense him his deare blood to spill.
His name was
Greene; O Master
Green (quoth I)
My husband to you hath done iniury,
For which I sorry am with all my heart,
And how he wrongeth me
I will impart.
He kéepes abroad most wicked company,
With whores and queanes, and bad society;
When he comes home, he beats me sides and head,
That Id
[...] wish that one of vs were dead.
And now to
London he is rid to roare,
I would that
I might neuer sée him more:
Greene then incenst, did vow to be my friend,
And of his life he soone would make an end.
O Master
Greene, said
I, the dangers great,
You must be circumspect to doe this feat;
To act the déed your selfe there is no néed,
But hire some villaines, they will doe the déed.
Ten pounds Ile giue them to attempt this thing,
And twenty more when certaine newes they bring,
That he is dead, besides Ile be your friend,
In honest courtesie till life doth end.
Greene vow'd to doe it; then away he went,
And met two Villaines, that did vse in
Kent
To rob and murder vpon
Shooters hill,
The one call'd
Shakebag, t'other nam'd
Black Will.
Two such like Villaines Hell did neuer hatch,
For twenty Angels they made vp the match,
And forty more when they had one the déed,
Which made them sweare, they'd do it with al spéed
Then vp to
London presently they hye,
Where Master
Arden in
Pauls Church they spy,
And waiting for his comming forth that night,
By a strange chance of him they then lost sight.
For where these Villaines stood & made their stop
A Prentice he was shutting vp his shop,
The window falling, light on
Blacke-Wills head,
And broke it soundly, that apace it bled.
Where straight he made a brabble and a coyle,
And my swéet
Arden he past by the while;
They missing him, another plot did lay,
And meeting
Michael, thus to him they say:
Thou knowst that we must packe thy Master hence
Therefore consent and further our pretence,
At night when as your Master goes to bed,
Leaue ope the doores, he shall be murthered.
And so he did, yet
Arden could not sleepe,
Strange dreames and visions in his senses creepe,
He dreamt the doores were ope, & Villaines came,
To murder him, an 'twas the very same.
The second part.
To the same tune.
HE rose and shut the doore, his man he blames,
which conningly he strait this
[...] frames;
I was so sléepy, that
I did forget
To locke the doores, I pray you pardon it.
Next day these Ruffians met this man againe,
Who the whole story to them did explaine,
My master will in towns no longer stay,
Tomorrow you may méets him on the way.
Next day his businesse being finished,
He did take horse, and homeward then he rid,
And as he rid, it was his hap as then,
To ouertake Lord
Cheiney and his men.
With salutations they each other gréet,
I am full glad your Honour for to méet,
Arden did say▪ then did the Lord reply,
Sir, I am glad of your good company.
And being that we homeward are to ride,
I haue a s
[...]ie that must not be denide,
That at my house youle sup, and lodge also,
To
Feuersham this night you must not goe.
Then
Arden answered with this courteous spéech,
Your Honours pardon now I doe beséech,
I made a vow, if God did giue me life,
To sup and lodge with
Alice my louing wife.
Well, said my Lord, your oath hath got the day,
Tomorrow come and dine with me, I pray.
Ile wait vpon your Honour then (said he)
And safe he wont amongst this company.
On
Raymon-Downe, as they did passe this way,
Black-will, and
Shakebag they in ambush lay,
But durst not touch him, cause of the great trains
That my Lord had: thus were they croft againe.
With horrid oathes these Ruffians gan to sweare,
They stampe and curst, and tore their locks of haire
Saying, some Angell surely him did keepe.
Yet vow'd to murther him ere they did sleepe.
Now all this while my husband was away,
Mosby and I did reuell night and day;
And
Susan, which my waiting maiden was,
My Loues owne sister, knew how all did passe.
But when I saw my
Arden was not dead,
I welcom'd him, but with a heauy head:
To bed he went, and slept secure from harmes,
But I did wish my
Mosby in my armes.
Yet ere he slept, he told me he must goe
To dinner to my Lords, hee'd haue it so;
And that same night
Blacke-will did send me word,
What lucke bad fortune did to them offord.
I sent him word, that he next day would dine
At the Lord
Cheinies, and would rise betime,
And on the way their purpose might fulfill,
Well, Ile reward you, when that you him kill.
Next morne betimes, before the breake of day,
To take him napping then they tooke their way;
But such a mist and fog there did arise,
They could not see although they had foure eyes.
Thus
Arden scap'd these villaines where
And yet they heard his horse goe by that way,
I thinke (said
Will) some Spirit is his friend,
Come life or death, I vaw to see his end.
Then to my house they strait did take their way,
Telling me how they missed of their pray;
Then presently, we did together gree,
At night at home that he should murdered be.
Mosby and
I, and all, our plot thus lay,
That he at Tables should with
Arden play,
Black-will, and
Sakebag they themselues should hide
Vntill that
Mosby he a watchword cride.
The word was this whereon we did agree,
Now (Master
Arden) I haue taken ye:
Woe to that word, and woe vnto vs all,
Which bred confusion and our sudden fall.
When he came home, most welcome him I made,
And Iudas like I kist whom
I betraide,
Mosby and he together went to play,
For I on purpose did the tables lay.
And as they plaid, the word was straightway spoke,
Blacke-Will and
Sakebag out the corner-broke,
And with a Towell backwards pul'd him downe,
which made me think they now my ioyes did crowne
With swords and kniues they stab'd him to the heart
Mosby and I did likewise act our part,
And then his body straight we did conuey
Behind the Abbey in the field he lay.
And then by Iustice we were straight condemn'd,
Each of vs came vnto a shamelesse end,
For God our secret dealings soone did spy,
And brought to light our shamefull villany.
Thus haue you heard of
Ardens tragedy,
It rests to shew you how the rest did die:
His wife at
Canterbury she was burnt,
And all her flesh and bones to ashes turn'd.
Mosby and his faire Sister, they were brought
To
London for the trespasse they had wrought,
In Smithfield on a gibbet they did die,
A just reward for all their villanie,
Michael and
Bradshaw, which a Goldsmith was,
That knew of letters which from them did passe,
At Feuersham were hanged both in chaines,
And well rewarded for their faithfull paines.
The painter fled none knowes how be
did speed,
Sakebag in Southwarke he to death
did bléed,
For as he thought to scape and run away,
He suddenly was murdered in a fray.
In Kent at
Osbridge, Greene did suffer death,
Hang'd on a gibbet he
did lose his breath:
Blacke-Will at
Flushing on a stage
did burne,
Thus each one came vnto his end by turne.
And thus my story
I conclude and end,
Praying the Lord that he his grace will send
Vpon vs all, and keepe vs all from ill.
Amen say all, if't be thy blessed will.
FINIS.
Printed at London for C. W.