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
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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
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er mind and fancy told to me,
That with his Age my youth could not agree.
On knees I
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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
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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
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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
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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.