The most Rare and Excellent History, Of the Dutchess of Suffolks Callamity.
To the Tune of,
Queen Dido.
WHen God had taken for our sin,
y
t prudent Prince K.
Edward away,
Then bloody
Bonner did begin
his raging malice to be wray:
All those that did Gods Word profess,
He persecuted more or less.
Thus whilst the Lord on us did lowre,
many in Prison he did throw,
Tormenting them in
Lollards Tower,
whereby they might the truth forego:
Then
Cranmer, Ridley, and the rest,
were burning in the fire, that Christ profest.
Smithfield was then with Fagots fill
[...]d,
and many places more besides,
At
Coventry was
Sanders kill'd,
at Wooster eke, good
Hopper dy'd;
And to escape this bloody day,
Beyond-sea many fled away.
Amongst the rest that sought release,
and for their faith in danger stood,
Lady
Elizabeth was chief,
King
Henries Daughter of Royal blood;
Which in the Tower did Prisoner lye,
Looking each day when she should dye.
The Dutchess of
Suffolk séeing this,
whose life like wise the Tyrant sought:
Who in the hopes of heavenly bliss,
within Gods Word her comfort wrought:
For fear of death was faint to fly,
And leave her house most secretly.
That for the love of God alone,
her Land and Goods she left behind,
Séeking still for that precious stone,
the word and truth so rare to find:
She with her Nurse, Husband, and Child,
In poor array their sighs beguil'd.
Thus through
London they passed along
each one did take a several stréet,
Thus all along escaping wrong,
at
Billinsgate they all did méet,
Like people poor in
Gravesend-barge,
They simply went with all their charge.
And all along from
Gravesend-town,
with journeys short on foot they went,
Vnto the Sea-coast came they down,
to pass the Seas was their intent:
And God provided so that day,
That they took ship and sayld away.
And with a prosperous gale of wind,
in
Flanders they did safe arrive,
This was to their great ease of mind,
and from their heavy hearts much wo did drive,
And so with thanks to God on high,
They took their way to
Germany.
Thus as they travel'd still disguis'd,
upon the High-way suddenly,
By cruel Thieves they were surpriz'd,
assayling their small company:
And all their treasures and their store,
They took away and beat them sore.
The Nurse in midst of their fight,
laid down the Child upon the ground,
She ran away out of their sight,
and never after that was found:
Then did the Dutches make great moan,
With her good Husband all alone.
The Thieves had there their horses kill'd,
and all their money quite had took,
The pretty baby almost spoil'd,
was by the Nurse like wise forsook:
And they far from their friends did stand
And succourless in a strange Land.
The Sky likewise began to scowl,
it Haild and Raind in pitious sort,
The way was long and wondrous foul,
then may I now full well report,
Their grief and sorrow was not small,
When this unhappy chance did fall.
SOmetimes the Dutches bore the Child,
as wet as ever she could be,
And when the Lady kind and mild
was weary, then the Child bore he:
And thus they one another eas'd,
And with their fortunes well was pleas'd.
And after many a weary step,
all wet-shod both in dirt and mire,
After much grief their hearts yet leaps,
for labour doth some rest require:
A town before them they did sée,
But Lodged there they could not be.
From house to house then they did go,
séeking that night where they might lye,
But want of money was their wo,
and still their babe with cold did cry;
With cap and knée they courtesie make
But none of them would pity take.
Lo here a Prince of great blood,
doth pray a peasant for releif,
With tears bedewed as she stood,
yet few or none regard her grief:
Her spéech they could not understand,
But gave her money in her hand.
When all in vain her spéeches spent,
and that they could not house-room get,
Into a Church-porch then they went,
to stand out of the rain and wet:
Then said the Dutches to her Dear,
O that we had some fire here.
Then did her Husband so provide;
that fire and coals he got with spéed:
She sat down by the fire side
to dress her Daughter that had néed:
And whilst she drest it in her lap,
Her Husband made the Infant pap.
Anon the Sexston thither came,
and finding them there by the fire,
The drunken Knave, all void of shame,
to drive them out was his desire:
And spurn'd forth the Noble Dame,
Her husbands wrath she did inflame.
And all in fury as he stood,
he wrung the Church-keys out of his hand
And struck him so that all the blood,
his head ran down as he did stand:
Wherefore the Sexston presently,
For help and aid aloud did cry.
Then came the Officers in hast,
and took the Dutches and her Child,
And with her husband thus they past,
like Lambs beset with Tygers wild;
And to the Governor were brought,
Who understood them not in ought.
Then Master
Bertue brave and bold,
in Latine made a gallant spéech,
Which all their misery did unfold,
and their high favour did beseech?
With that a Doctor sitting by,
Did know the Dutches presently.
And thereupon arising streight,
with words abashed at this sight,
Vnto them all that there did wait,
he thus brake forth in words aright:
Behold within your sight, quoth he,
A Prince of most high degree.
With that the Governour and all the rest,
were all amazed the same to hear,
Who welcomed this new come guest,
with reverence great and Princely chear,
And afterwards convey'd they were,
Vnto their Friend, Prince
Cassimere.
A Son she had in
Germany,
Pergrine Bartue call'd by name,
Surnam'd the good Lord
Willoughby,
of courage great and worthy fame:
Her daughter young with her went,
Was afterwards Countess of
Kent.
For when Queen
Mary was deceast
the Dutches home return'd again
Who was of sorrow quite releast,
by Queen
Llizabeths happy Raign:
Whose godly life and piety,
We may praise continually.
London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.