A new Ballad, shewing the great misery sustained by a poore man in Essex, his Wife and Children: with other strange things done by the Devill.

To the tune of, The rich Merchant man.
[figure]
A poore Essex man
that was in great distresse,
Most bitterly made his complaint,
in griefe and heavinesse:
Through scarcity and want,
he was oppressed sore,
He could not find his children bread,
he was so extreme poore.
His silly wife God wot,
being lately brought to bed,
With her poore Infants at her brest
had neither drinke nor bread.
A wofull lying in
was this, the Lord doth know,
God kéep all honest vertuous wives
from féeling of such woe.
Oh Husband deare, she said,
for want of food I die,
Some succour doe for me provide,
to ease my misery.
The man with many a teare,
most pittiously replyde,
We have no means to buy us bread;
with that the children cry'd.
They came about him round,
upon his coat they hung:
And pittiously they made their mone
their little hands they wrung.
Be still my boyes, said he,
and Ile goe to the wood,
And bring some Acornes for to rost,
and you shall have some food.
Forth went the wofull man,
a Cord he tooke with him,
Wherewith to bind the broken wood
that he should homewards bring:
And by the way as he went,
met Farmers two or thrée,
Desiring them for Christ his sake,
to helpe his misery.
Oh lend to me (he said)
one loafe of Barley bread,
One pint of milke for my poore wife
in Child-bed almost dead:
Thinke on my extreme néed,
to lend me have no doubt,
I have no money for to pay,
but I will worke it out.
But they in churlish sort,
did one by one reply,
We have already lent you more
than we can come well by.
This answere strooke his heart
as cold as any stone:
Vnto the wood from thence he went,
with many a grievous groane.
Where at the length (behold)
a tall man did him meet,
And cole-black were his garments all
from head unto his féet.
Thou wrethched man (said he)
why dost thou wéep so sore?
What is the cause thou mak'st this mone
tell me and sigh no more.
Alas, good Sir (he said)
the lack of some reliefe,
For my poore wife & children small,
'tis cause of all my griefe:
They lie all like to starve
for want of bread (saith he)
Good Sir, vouchsafe therefore [...] give
one peny unto me.
Hereby this wretched man
committed wondrous evill,
He begd an almes and did not know
he askt it of the Devill:
But straight the hellish Fiend,
to him reply'd againe,
An odious sinner art thou then,
that dost such want sustaine.
Alack (the poore man said)
this thing for truth I know,
That Iob was just, yet never man
endured greater woe.
The godly oft doe want,
and néed doth pinch them sore,
Yet God will not forske them quite
but doth their states restore.
If thou so faithfull be,
why goest thou begging then?
Thou shalt be fed as Daniel was,
within the Lyons Den,
If thus thou doe abide,
the Ravens shall bring thée food,
As they unto Elias did,
that wandred in the Wood.
Mocke not a wofull man,
good Sir, the poore man said,
Redouble not my sorrowes so,
that are upon me laid:
But rather doe extend
unto my néed, and give
One penny for to buy some bread,
my children poore may live.
With that he opened straight,
the fairest purse in sight,
That ever mortall eye beheld,
fild up with crownes full bright,
Vnto the wofull man
the same he wholly gave,
Who very earnestly did pray,
that Christ his life might save.
Well (quoth the dammed spirit)
goe ease thy childrens sorrow,
And if thou wantest any thing,
com meet me here to morrow:
Then home the poore man went,
with chéerefull heart and mind,
And comforted his wofull wife
with words that were most kind.

The second part,

To the same tune.
[figure]
TAke comfort Wife he said,
I have a purse of Gold
Now given by a Gentleman,
most faire for to behold.
And thinking for to pull
his purse from bosome out,
He found nothing but Oken leaves
bound in a filthy clout.
Which when he did behold,
with sorrow pale and wan,
In desperate sort to séeke the purse,
unto the Wood he ran,
Supposing in his mind,
that he had lost it there:
He could not tell then what to think,
he was t'wixt hope and feare.
He had no sooner come
into the shady Grove,
The Devil met with him againe,
as he in fancy strove:
What séekst thou here he said?
the purse (quoth he) you gave:
Thus fortune she hath crossed me,
and then the Devill said,
Where didst thou put the purse?
tell me, and doe not lye,
Within my bosome said the man,
where no man did come nigh.
Looke there againe (quoth he)
then said the man I shall,
And found his bosom1e full of Toads,
as thicke as they could crawle.
The poore man at this sight,
to speake had not the power,
Sée (qd. the Devill) vengeance doth
purse thée every houre:
Goe cursed wretch (quoth he)
and rid away thy life,
But murther first thy children yong,
and miserable Wife.
The poore man raging mad,
ran home incontinent,
Intending for to kill them all,
but God did him prevent.
For why the chiefest man,
that in the Parish dwelt,
With meat and mony thither came,
which liberally he dealt.
Who séeing the poore man
come home in such a rage,
Was faine to bind him in his bed,
his fury to asswage:
Where long he lay full sicke,
still crying for his Gold,
But being well, this whole discourse
he to his neighbours told.
From all temptations,
Lord blesse both great and small:
And let no man, O heavenly God,
for want of succour fall:
But put their speciall trust
in God for evermore,
Who will no doubt from misery,
each faithfull man restore.
FINIS.

Printed at London for H. Gosson.

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