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For Witherington my heart is woe,
That ever he slaine should be:
He knelt and fought on his knee.
Sir Hugh Mountgomery,
One foot would never flee.
His sister's sonne was hee;
But saved he could not bee.
Did with Erle Douglas dye;
Scarce fifty-five did flye.
Went home but fifty-three;
Under the greene woode tree.
Their husbands to bewayle;
But all wold not prevayle.
Thev bore with them away:
Ere they were cladd in clay.
Where Scottland's king did raigne,
Was with an arrow slaine :
“O heavy news,” king James did say,
“Scottland can witness bee,
Of such account as hee."
Within as short a space,
Was slaine in Chevy-Chace: “Now by my faith," said then our king,
“Sith 'twill noe better bee; I trust I have, within my realme,
Five hundred as good as bee: “ Yet shall not Scotts nor Scottland say,
But I will vengeance take:
For brave Erle Percy's sake."
After, at Humbledowne;
With lords of high renowne:
Did many hundreds dye.
Made by the Erle Percy.
With plentye, joy, and peace;
THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.
Now ponder well, you parents deare,
These wordes which I shall write; A doleful story you shall heare,
In time brought forth to light. A gentleman of good account
In Norfolk dwelt of late, Whose wealth and riches did surmount
Most men of his estate.
Sore sick he was, and like to dye,
No help his life could save;
And both possest one grave.
Each was to other kinde,
And left two babes behinde:
The one a fine and pretty boy,
Not passing three yeares olde:
And made in beauty's molde.
As plainlye doth appeare,
Three hundred pounds a yeare.
Two hundred pounds in gold,
Which might not be controllid.
But if the children chance to dye,
Ere they to age should come, Their uncle should possesse their wealth ;
For so the will did run.
“Now, brother,” said the dying man,
“Look to my children deare; Be good unto my boy and girl,
No friendes else have they here: To God and you I do commend
My children night and day; A little while be sure we have
Within this world to staye.
“You must be father and mother both,
And uncle, all in one;
When I am dead and gone.'
“O brother kinde," quoth shee, “You are the man must bring my babes
To wealth or miserie :
“If you do keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward ; If otherwise you seem to deal,
God will your deedes regard." With lippes as cold as any stone,
They kist the children small; “God bless you both, my children deare 1"
With that the teares did fall.
These speeches then their brother spoke
To this sick couple there; “The keeping of your children dear,
Sweet sister, do not feare:
God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
When you are layd in grave.”
Their parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes
Where much of them he makes.
A twelvemonth and a daye,
To make them both awaye.
He bargain'd with two ruffians rude,
Which were of furious mood,
And slay them in a wood.
He would the children send
With one that was his friend.
Away then went the pretty babes,
Rejoycing at that tide, Rejoycing with a merry minde,
They should on cock-horse ride.
As they rode on the waye,
And work their lives' decaye:
So that the pretty specche they had,
Made murtherer's heart relent: And they that tooke the deed to do,
Full sore they did repent.