I spred my plumes, as wantons doe,
Some sweet and secret friende to wooe,
Because chast love I did not finde
Agreeing to my wanton minde.

At last my name in court did ring
Into the eares of Englandes king,
Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd,
But I made coye what he desir'd:

Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour neare,
Whose friendship I esteemed deare,
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 wronge my wedded husband Shore,
Whom I had married yeares

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before.

In heart and mind I did rejoyce,
That I had made so sweet a choice;
And therefore did my state resigne,
To be king Edward's concubine.

From city then to court I went,
To reape the pleasures of content;
There had the joyes that love could bring,
And knew the secrets of a king.

When I was thus advanc'd on highe
Commanding Edward with mine eye,
For Mrs. Blague I in short space
Obtainde a livinge from his grace.

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45

No friende I had but in short time
I made unto a promotion climbe;
But yet for all this costlye pride,
My husbande could not mee abide.

His bed, though wronged by a king,
His heart with deadlye griefe did 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 peerlesse might
Did reape the pleasure of his right.

Long time I lived in the courte,
With lordes and ladies of great sorte;
And when I smil'd all men were glad,

But when I frown'd my prince grewe sad.

But yet a gentle minde I bore

To helplesse people, that were poore;
I still redrest the orphans crye,

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And sav'd their lives condemnd to dye.

I still had ruth on widowes tears,

I succour'd babes of tender yeares;

And never look'd for other gaine

But love and thankes for all my paine.

At last my royall king did dye,

And then my dayes of woe grew nighe;
When crook-back Richard got the crowne,
King Edwards friends were soon put downe.

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I then was punisht for my sin,
That I so long had lived in ;

Yea, every one that was his friend,
This tyrant brought to shamefull end.

Then for my lewd and wanton life, That made a strumpet of a wife, did in Lombard-street,

I

penance

In shamefull manner in a sheet.

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Where many thousands did me viewe,

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Who late in court my credit knewe;

Which made the teares run down my face,
To thinke upon my foul disgrace.

Not thus content, they took from mee

My goodes, my livings, and my fee,

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And charg'd that none should me relieve,
Nor any succour to me give.

Then unto Mrs. Blague I went,

To whom my jewels I had sent,

In hope therebye to ease my want,

When riches fail'd, and love grew scant:

But she denyed to me the same

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When in my need for them I came;
To recompence my former love,

Out of her doores shee did me shove.

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So love did vanish with my state,
Which now my soul repents too late;
Therefore example take by mee,
For friendship parts in povertìe.

But yet one friend among the rest,
Whom I before had seen distrest,
And sav'd his life, condemn'd to die,
Did give me food to succour me:

For which, by lawe, it was decreed
That he was hanged for that deed;
His death did grieve me so much more,
Than had I dyed myselfe therefore.

Then those to whom I had done good,
Durst not afford mee any food;
Whereby I begged all the 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 lengthe
I yielded up my vital strength
Within a ditch of loathsome scent,

Where carrion dogs did much frequent:

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The which now since my dying daye,
Is Shoreditch call'd, as writers saye;
Which is a witness of my sinne,
For being concubine to a king.

You wanton wives, that fall to lust,
Be

you assur'd that God is just;
Whoredome shall not escape his hand,

Nor pride unpunish'd in this land.

If God to me such shame did bring,
That yielded only to a king,
How shall they scape that daily run
To practise sin with every one?

You husbands, match not but for love,
Lest some disliking after prove;
Women, be warn'd when you are wives,
What plagues are due to sinful lives:

Then, maids and wives, in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

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XXVII.

CORYDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL.

This simple little elegy is given, with some corrections, from two copies, one of which is in 'The golden garland of princely delights.'

The burthen of the song, Ding Dong,' &c. is at present appropriated to burlesque subjects, and therefore may excite only ludicrous ideas in a modern reader; but in the time of our poet it usually accompanied the most solemn

1 But it had this name long before; being so called from its being a common sewer (vulgarly shore) or drain. See Stow.