Page:A Lamentable Ballad of Little Musgrove, and the Lady Barnet (I. Clark, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger).jpg

A Lamentable Ballad of Little Muſgrove, and the Lady Barnet.
To an Excellent New Tune.

As it fell out on a Holy day
 as many more be in the year,
Little Musgrove would to the Church & pray
 to ſee the fair Ladies there:
Gallants there were of good degree,
 for beauty exceeding fair,
Moſt wonderous lovely to the eye,
 which did to the Church repair.

Some came down in red velvet,
 and ſome came down in pall,
The next came down the Lady Barnet,
 the faireſt among them all:
She caſt a look on little Musgrove,
 as bright as the Summers Sun,
Full well then perceived little Musgrove,
 Lady Barnets love he had won.

The Lady Barnet meek and mild,
 ſaluted this little Musgrove,
Who did reply her kind Courteſie,
 with Favour and gentle Love:
I have a Bower in merry Barnet,
 beſtrewed with cowſlips ſweet,
If that you pleaſe little Musgrove,
 in love me there to meet.

Within my arms one night to ſleep,
 for you my love have won,
You need not fear my ſuspitious Lord,
 for he from home is gone:
Betide my life, betide my death,
 this Night I will lye with thee,
And for thy ſake i’le hazard my Breath,
 ſo dear is thy Love to me.

What ſhall we do with our little Foot-page
 our counſel for to keep
And watch for fear Lord Barnet come,
 while we together ſleep:
Red Gold ſhall be his hier, quoth he,
 and Silver ſhall be his fee,
So he our councel ſafely keepe,
 that I may ſleepe with thee.

I will have none of your Gold, he ſaid,
 nor none of your Silver fee,
If I ſhould keep your counſel Sir,
 ’twere great Diſloyalty.
I will not be falſe unto my Lord,
 for houſe nor yet for Land
But if my Lady prove untrue,
 Lord Barnet ſhall underſtand.

Then ſwiftly ran this little Foot-page,
 unto his Lord with ſpeed,
He then was feaſting with his own friends
 not dreaming of this ill deed:
Moſt ſpeedily the page did haſt,
 moſt ſwiftly he did run,
And when he came to the broken bridge,
 he bent his breaſt and ſwum.

The Page did make no ſtay at all,
 but went to the Lord with ſpeed,
That he the truth my ſay to him,
 concerning this wicked deed,
He found his Lord at ſupper then,
 great merriment they did keep,
My Lord, qd. he this night upon my word
 Musgrove with your Lady doth ſleep.

If this be true my little Foot-page,
 and true that thou tel’ſt to me,
My eldeſt daughter I’le give thee,
 and wedded thou ſhalt be:
If this be a lye my little Foot-Page,
 and a lye thou telleſt me,
A new pair of Gallows ſhall be ſet up,
 and hanged thou ſhalt be.

If this be a lye my Lord (ſaid he)
 and a lye that thou heareſt of me
Never ſtay a pair of Gallows make,
 but hang me on the next tree.
Lord Barnet call’d his merry men all,
 away with ſpeed he would go,
His heart was ſo perlext with grief,
 the truth of this he muſt know.

Saddle your horſes with ſpeed, he ſaid,
 and ſaddle me my white Steed;
If this be true as the Page hath ſaid,
 Musgrove ſhall repent his deed:
He charged his men to make no noiſe,
 as they rode along the way,
Nor wind no horn (quoth he) on your life,
 leaſt our coming it ſhould betray.

But one of them that Musgrove did love,
 and reſpected his friendſhip moſt dear,
To give notice Lord Barnet was come,
 did wind the Bugle moſt clear:
And evermore as he did ſound,
 away musgrove and away,
For if he take thee with my Lady,
 then ſlain thou ſhalt be this day.

O hark fair Lady, your Lord is near,
 I hear his little horn blow,
And if he find me in your arms thus,
 then ſlain I ſhall be I know:
O lye ſtill, lye ſtill little Musgrove,
 and keep my back from the cold,
I know it is my Fathers Shepherd,
 driving Sheep into the Pinfold.

Musgrove did turn him pound about,
 ſweet ſlumber his eyes did greet,
When he did awake then he did eſpy
 Lord Barnet at the beds feet,
O riſe up, riſe up, little Musgrove,
 and put thy cloathing on,
It never ſhall be ſaid in England fair
 that I ſlew a naked man.

Here is two Swords, Lord Barnet ſaid,
 thy choice Musgrove ſhall make,
The beſt of them thy ſelf ſhall have,
 and I the worſt will take:
The firſt blow Musgrove did ſtrike,
 he wounded Lord Burnet ſore,
The ſecond blow Lord Barnet gave,
 Musgrove could ſtrike no more.

He took his Lady by the white hand,
 all love to rage convert,
And with his ſword in furious wiſe,
 he pierc’d her tender heart,
A Grave, a Grave, Lord Barnet cry’d
 prepare to lay us in,
My Lady ſhall lye on the upper ſide,
 ’cauſe ſhe’s the better skin.

Then ſuddenly he ſlew himſelf,
 which grieved his friends full ſore.
The death of theſe three worthy wights,
 with tears they did deplore.
This ſad miſchief by luſt was wrought,
 then let us call for grace,
That we may ſhun the wicked vice,
 and flye from ſin apace.

Printed for J. Clark, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger.