But from her looke

A wounde he tooke

So deepe, that for a further boone
The nymphe he prayes :
Whereto she sayes,

Foregoe me now, come to me foone.

But in vayne shee did conjure him
To departe her presence foe;

Having a thousand tongues to allure him,

And but one to bid him

Where lippes invite,

And eyes delight,

goe:

And cheekes, as fresh as rose in june,

Perfuade delay;

What boots to say,

5

10

15

Foregoe me now, come to me foone ?

20

He demands what time for pleasure.

Can there be more fit than now:

She fayes, night gives love that leisure,
Which the day doth not allow.

He fayes, the fight

In Venus' playes

Makes bold, fhe fayes;

Foregoe me now, come to mee foope.

25

30

But

But what promife or profeffion

From his hands could purchase scope?

Who would fell the sweet poffeffion

Of fuche beautye for a hope?
Or for the fight

Of lingering night

Foregoe the present joyes of noone?
Though ne'er foe faire"

Her speeches were,

Foregoe me now, come to me foone.

How, at laft, agreed thefe lovers ?

Shee was fayre, and he was young:

The tongue may tell what th'eye discovers;
Joyes unfeene are never fung.

Did fhee confent,

Or he relent;

Accepts hee night, or grants shee noone;

Left he her mayd,

35

40

45

Or not; fhe fayd

Foregoe me now, come to me foone.

50

XIV. THE

XIV.

THE LADY ISABELLA'S TRAGEDY.

This ballad is given from an old black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, collated with another in the British Museum, H. 263. folio. It is there intitled, "The Lady "Ifabella's Tragedy, or the Step-Mother's Cruelty: being a relation of a lamentable and cruel murther, committed on the body of the lady Isabella, the only daughter of a "noble duke, &c. To the tune of the Lady's Fall." To fome copies are annexed eight more modern ftanzas, intitled, "The Dutchess's and Cook's Lamentation."

HERE was a lord of worthy fame,
a

THE

And a hunting he would ride,

Attended by a noble traine

Of gentrye by his fide.

And while he did in chafe remaine,
To fee both fport and playe;

His ladye went, as she did feigne,

Unto the church to praye.

5

This

This lord he had a daughter deare,
Whose beauty fhone fo bright,
She was belov'd, both far and neare,
Of many a lord and knight.

Fair Ifabella was the call'd,

A creature faire was thee;

She was her fathers only joye;
As you fhall after fee.

Therefore her cruel step-mothèr
Did envye her fo much;

That daye by daye fhe fought her life,
Her malice it was fuch..

She bargain'd with the mafter-cook,

To take her life awaye:

And taking of her daughters book,

She thus to her did faye.

10

15

20

Go home, fweet daughter, I thee praye,

25

Go haften prefentlìe;

And tell unto the mafter-cook

Thefe wordes that I tell thee.

And bid him dreffe to dinner freight

That faire and milk-white doe,
That in the parke doth fhine fo bright,

30

There's none fo faire to fhowe.

This ladye fearing of no harme,

Obey'd her mothers will;

And presentlye she hafted home,
Her pleasure to fulfill.

She ftreight into the kitchen went,
Her meffage for to tell;

And there fhe fpied the mafter-cook,
Who did with malice fwell.

Nowe, mafter-cook, it must be foe,

Do that which I thee tell:

You needes muft dreffe the milk-white doe,
Which you do knowe full well,

35

40

Then ftreight his cruell bloodye hands,

45

He on the ladye layd;

Who quivering and shaking stands,

While thus to her he fayd:

Thou art the doe, that I muft dreffe ;