And ſure the fault which I have done,
I was forced thereunto,
Preſerve my life, and puniſh me,
as you think fit to do.
And with theſe words her lily hands,
ſhe wrung full often there,
And down along her comely face,
proceeded many a tear.
But nothing could this furious queen,
herewith appeaſed be.
The cup of deadly poiſon ſtrong,
which ſhe held on her knee.
She gave this comely dame to drink,
who took it from her hand.
And from her bended knees aroſe,
and on her feet did ſtand.
When caſting up her eyes to heav’n,
ſhe did for mercy call
And drinking up the poiſon ſtrong,
ſhe loſt her life withal.
And when that death thro’ ev’ry limb,
had done its greateſt ſpite
Her chiefeſt foes could but confeſs,
ſhe was a glorious ſight.
Her body then they did entomb,
when life was fled away
At Woodſtock near to Oxford town,
as may be ſeen this day.
Printed by J. & M. Robertſon, Saltmarket, 1800
