THE LAMENTATION OF JANE SHORE*.
IF Rosamond, that was so fair,
Had cause her sorrows to declare,
Then let Jane Shore with sorrow sing,
That was beloved of a king.
Then wanton wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
In maiden years my beauty bright
Was loved dear of lord and knight;
But yet the love that they requir'd,
It was not as my friends desir'd.
My parents they, for thirst of gain,
A husband for me did obtain;
And I, their pleasure to fulfil,
Was forc'd to wed against my will.
To Matthew Shore I was a wife,
Till lust brought ruin to my life;
And then my life I lewdly spent,
Which makes my soul for to lament.
In Lombard-street I once did dwell,
As London yet can witness well;
Where many gallants did behold
My beauty in a shop of gold.
*There is a different ballad upon this subject in "The garland of good-will."
I spread my plumes as wantons do,
Some sweet and secret friend to woo,
love I did not find
Agreeing to my wanton mind.
At last my name in court did ring,
Into the ears of Englands king,
Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd,
But I made coy what he desir'd.
Yet mistress Blague, a neighbour near,
Whose friendship I esteemed dear,
Did say, it was a gallant thing
To be beloved of a king.
By her persuasions I was led
For to defile my marriage-bed,
And wrong my wedded husband Shore,
Whom I had lov'd ten years before.
In heart and mind I did rejoice,
That I had made so sweet a choice;
And therefore did my state resign,
To be king Edwards concubine.
From city then to court I went,
To reap the pleasures of content;
And had the joys that love could bring,
And knew the secrets of a king.
When I was thus advanc'd on high,
Commanding Edward with mine eye,
For mistress Blague I, in short space,
Obtain❜d a living from his grace.
No friend I had, but, in short time,
I made unto promotion climb;
But yet, for all this costly pride,
My husband could not me abide.
His bed, though wronged by a king,
His heart with grief did deadly sting;
From England then he goes away,
To end his life beyond the sea.
He could not live to see his name
Impaired by my wanton shame;
Although a prince of peerless might
Did reap the pleasure of his right.
Long time I lived in the court,
With lords and ladies of great sort;
And when I smil'd all men were glad,
But when I mourn'd my prince grew sad.
But yet an honest mind I bore
To helpless people that were poor;
I still redress'd the orphans cry,
And sav'd their lives condemn'd to die.
I still had ruth on widows tears,
I succour'd babes of tender years;
And never look'd for other gain
But love and thanks for all my pain.
At last my royal king did die,
And then my days of woe grew nigh;
When crook-back Richard got the crown,
King Edwards friends were soon put down.
I then was punish'd for my sin,
That I so long had lived in;
Yea, every one that was his friend,
This tyrant brought to shameful end.
Then, for my lewd and wanton life,
That made a strumpet of a wife,
I penance did in Lombard-street,
In shameful manner in a sheet:
Where many thousands did me view,
Who late in court my credit knew;
Which made the tears run down my face,
To think upon my foul disgrace.
Not thus content, they took from me
My goods, my livings, and my fee;
And charg'd that none should me relieve
Nor any succour to me give.
Then unto mistress Blague I went,
To whom my jewels I had sent,
In hope thereby to ease my want,
When riches fail'd, and love grew scant.
But she denied to me the same,
When in need for them I came;
To recompence my former love,
Out of her doors she did me shove.
So love did vanish with my state,
Which now my soul repents too late;
Therefore example take by me,
For friendship parts in poverty.
But yet one friend, among the rest,
Whom I before had seen distress'd,
And sav'd his life, condemn'd to die,
Did give me food to succour me:
For which, by law, it was decreed,
That he was hanged for that deed;
His death did grieve me so much more,
Than had I died myself therefore.
Then those to whom I had done good,
Durst not afford' me any food;
Whereby in vain I begg'd all day,
And still in streets by night I lay.
My gowns, beset with pearl and gold,
Were turn'd to simple garments old;
My chains and gems, and golden rings,
To filthy rags and loathsome things.
Thus was I scorn'd of maid and wife,
For leading such a wicked life;
Both sucking babes, and children small,
Did make their pastime at my fall.
I could not get one bit of bread,
Whereby my hunger might be fed:
Nor drink, but such as channels yield,
Or stinking ditches in the field.
Thus, weary of my life, at length,
I yielded up my vital strength,
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