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6 Who clipps renowme, is lieke a foole,

that faine would robb the Sunne: Or one that spoms and kieks at Faem,

that worthies well haue wumne.

Twear better striue to win like lawds

by blotles life in deede :
Than shaek the head or bend the brow,
at uerses that

you

reed.
7 Of others prayse, but God be thankt,

the hatefull are so weake:
(And uoyde of strēgth) the happy needs

not caer what babblars speake.

The learned hath a mortall foe,

of him that knothing knoes :
The floure is malliest by a weede,

that for no purpose groes.
8 Well: whear that noble nature dwells,

and parfait honour is:
Thear vertue harbreth in the hart,

and rests the God of blis.

Take wel in worth my Nueyeares gift,

for whiells your vertues liue :
And I maye write, I minde like verse,

to you or yours to giue.

Finis q goodwill.

This is all in black letter, and forms two fly leaves to Neville " de furoribus Norfolciensium Ketto duce.” In the possession of the Rev. Mr. White, of Lichfield.

THE

THE DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK. .

THE following curious old Ballad has never appeared in any collection, and seems well worthy of being preserved. It was originally printed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

“ THE MOST RARE AND EXCELLENT HISTORY OF THE DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK, AND HER HUSBAND, RICHARD BERTIE'S CALAMITIES.

To the tune of “ Queen Dido."

1.

When God had taken, for our sin,

That prudent Prince King Edward away,
Then bloody Bonner did begin

His raging malice to bewray;
All those that did God's word profess,
He persecuted more or less.

II.

Thus while the LORD on us did low'r,

Many in prison he did throw,
Tormenting them in Lollards’ Tower,

Whereby they might the truth forego,
Then Cranmer, Ridley, and the rest,
Were burning in the fire, that Christ profess'd.

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III.

Smithfield was then with faggots fill’d,

And many places more beside;
At Coventry was Saunders killd,

At Worcester eke good Hooper died;
And to escape this bloody day,
Beyond-sea many fled away.

IV.

Among the rest that sought relief,

And for their faith in danger stood,
Lady Elizabeth was chief,

King Henry's daughter of Royal Blood;
Who in the Tower did prisoner lie,
Looking each day when she should die.

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The Dutchess of Suffolk seeing this,

Whose life likewise the Tyrant sought,
Who in the hopes of heavenly bliss,

Within God's word her comfort wrought;
For fear of death was forc'd to fly,
And leave her house most secretly.

VI.

That for the love of God alone,

Her land and goods she left behind; Seeking still that precious stone,

The word and truth so rare to find : She with her husband, nurse, and child, In poor array their sighs beguild.

VII. Thus

VII.

Thus thro' London they pass'd along,

Each one did take a several street; Aud all along escaping wrong,

At Billingsgate they all did meet : Like people poor, in Gravesend barge, They simply went with all their charge.

VIII.

And all along from Gravesend town,

With journey short, on foot they went;
Unto the sea-coast came they down,
To

pass the seas was their intent;
And God provided so that day,
That they took ship, and sail'd away.

IX.

And with a prosp'rous gale of wind

In Flanders they did safe arrive;
This was to them great ease of mind,

And from their hearts much woe did drive;
And so, with thanks to God on high,
They took their way to Germany.

X.

Thus as they travel'd still disguis’d,

Upon the highway suddenly,
By cruel thieves they were surpris’d,

Assaulting their small company;
And all their treasure, aud their store,
They took away, and beat them sore.

XI. The

XI.
The nurse, amidst of all their fright,

Laid down the child upon the gromd;
She ran away out of their sight,

And never after that was found. Then did the Dutchess make great moan, With her good husband all alone.

XII.

The thieves had then their horses kill'd,

An all their money quite had took; The bretty baby almost spoil'd,

Was by the nurse likewise forsook ; And they far from their friends did stand, And succourless in a strange land.

XHI.
The skie likewise began to sconi,

It hail'd and rain'd in piteous sort,
The

way was long, and wondrous foul,

Then may I now full well report, Their grief and sorrow were not small, When this unhappy chance did fall.

XIV.

Sometimes the Dutchess bore the child,

As wet as ever she could be, And when the lady kind and mild

Was weary, then the child bore he'; And thus they one another eas'd, And with their fortunes seem'd well pleas’d.

xv. And

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