%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The wofull lamentation of Edward Smith, a poore penitent prisoner / in the Iayle of Bedford, which he wrote a short time before his / death. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1624 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 03/22/2008 20038

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

1.59 S124607 1 Dainty come thou to me Dainty Come You to Me I Am a Prisoner poore, / Opprest with misery: Pepys 1.59 STC 22654.5 for C. W[right, c.1625] (ent. to the ballad partners, 14 de. 1624); Rollins (2) 1859 (Dec. 14, 1624, IV, 131). Pepys Library The Pepys ballads : facsimile volume Editor W.G. Day D.S. Brewer Cambridge [England] 1987 Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 59 The wofull lamentation of Edward Smith, a poore penitent prisoner / in the Iayle of Bedford, which he wrote a short time before his / death. The wofull lamentation of Edward Smith, a poore penitent prisoner in the Jayle of Bedford, which he wrote a short time before his death. The Woeful Lamentation of Edward Smith, a Poor Penitent Prisoner in the Jail of Bedford, which He Wrote a Short Time Before His Death. 1/2 sheet folio, 273 x 120 uneven inking cast fleurons 1624 Printed at London for C. W. C. W. Weinstein: STC, licensing info Weinstein lists I:59 under C. W. [Cuthbert Wright]. ESTC lists C. W[right]. BBTI lists no one with a last name of Wright and a first initial C. except Cuthbert Wright, dates 1603, 1610-1638. BBTI shows that there were a couple of other names with initials C. W. active in London ca. 1625. One is 1614, one 1615, and another 1628. Plomer lists a Cuthbert Wright active 1613-1639 in London.

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 Taxonomy used by Pepys to Organize Ballads in Albums A Small Promiscuous Supplement Devotion & Morality Drinking & Good Fellowship History - True & Fabulous Humour, Frollicks &c Love Pleasant Love Pleasant and Unfortunate Love Unfortunate Marriage Sea State & Times Tragedy Various Subjects Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/health alcohol animals/nature appearance Bible/biblical figures buildings/architecture catastrophe children class clothing/fashion country/nation crime death economics/trade entertainment family/procreation folklore gender historical figures & events holidays/seasons infidelity law London love maritime marriage military/war monstrosity mythology/Classical world news nobility/court politics/government punishment religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/sexuality supernatural/magic The New World travel trickery/deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/crass humor Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 3/22/2008 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Devotion & Morality death politics/government punishment religiousconcepts 3/22/08 Checker Jessica C. Murphy transcription rechecked, metadata updated, estc from bl.uk entered 7/10/2007 Checker Gordon Batchelor ESTC Match Found, #S124607 . 1/28/2005 Transcriber Kathryn Dolan First name unknown to me. 7/12/2004 Bibliographer Simone Chess Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The wofull lamentation of <hi rend="bold">Edward Smith</hi> , a poore penitent prisoner</hi> </seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">in the Jayle of Bedford, which he wrote a short time before his</hi> </seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">death. To the tune of, Dainty come thou to me.</hi> </seg>
I Am a Prisoner poore, Opprest with misery: O Lord doe thou restore that faith which wants in me. In woe I waile and weepe, In griping griefe I cry, In dungeon darke and deepe, In fetters fast I lye, Sighing I sit and moane, My foule offences all, My loathsome life is knowne, which makes me live in thrall. Ned Smith I am, the wight In prison that remaines, Tormented day and night, with bands and iron chaines. My joyes are turn'd to nought, My hopes are worne away, My wickednesse hath wrought my downe-fall and decay. Those gifts that God gave me, My wants for to supply, Abused much I have, To please my fantasie, My [n]ame I did denie, In B[ap]ti[s]me given me, That Sacrament whereby Regenerate I should be. No wit nor strength may serve The Law to satisfie: For death I doe deserve, In right and equity. For I offended have Nobles of high degree, What favour can I crave For life or liberty? But hope of life is past, My acts so hainous be: And liberty is lost, Till death doe set me free. All men both old and young Which are at liberty, And heare my dolefull song, Example take by me. Be true, and trust in God, Fly theft, and vice eschew, Lest Gods most heavy rod Correct your deeds untrue. Would I had ne'er bin borne To doe such wicked deeds, Which makes me live in scorne And shame that sore exceeds. But that which passed is, I cannot now recall: My sinnes and my amisse, O Lord forgive them all. Woe worth ill company, Fie on that filthy crue: Accurst the day may be That ever I them knew.
If life and death were set Before me for to chose, Though I might pardon get, My life first would I lose, Then runne that wicked race, And doe as I have done, Sweet Jesus give me grace, That life so lewd to shun. Fare well my loving wife, Who sought to turne my minde, And make me mend my life, Thy words full true I finde. Farewell my children all, My tender Babes adue: Let this your Fathers fall, Be warning good for you. Deare wife, and Infants three, Serve God, remember this, That you true subjects be, Though I have done amisse. Farewell my Musick sweet, And Cittron silver sound, Mourning for me is meet, My sinnes doe so abound. O Lord, on bended knees, And hands lift up on hie, Cast on me gracious eyes, With grace my wants supply. Lay not unto my charge, The things that I have done, Though I have runne at large, And plaid the unthrift sonne. Yet now I doe repent, And humbly come to thee, My sinnes I doe lament, Sweet Jesus comfort me. O Lord I doe lament, And onely joy in thee, To praise thee day and night, For thou redeemedst me. Lord save our royall King Whose prisoner poore am I, Prolong his dayes on earth, With fame and victory. Against his Majesty, I have offended sore, Committing Felony, And now I die therefore, A dolefull death, God knowes, Which once I did defie: Thus must I end my woes Which I take patiently. By thee O Saviour sweet, In heaven I hope to rest, In joy where I shall meet, Those soules whom thou hast blest, Where we shall sing thy praise, O God, with voyces high, When I shall end my dayes, And live eternally.
Printed at London for C.W.