%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A lamentable new Ballad vpon the Earle of Essex his death. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1610-1610 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/18/2011 30130

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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

S116076 4 UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN Essex last goodnight Essex' Last Good-night Essex Last Goodnight ALL you that cry, O hone O, hone, / come now and sing, O Lord with me, and lately tooke his last good-night. [with variation] Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 185 A lamentable new Ballad vpon the Earle of Essex his death. A lamentable new Ballad upon the Earle of Essex his death. A lamentable new Ballad upon the Earl of Essex's death. 1610-1610 Cuthbert Wright

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity 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 youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/18/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America country/ nation death religious types & sects Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/18/2011 3:38:45 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/18/2011 3:38:45 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 3:38:45 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Zusky, Catherine Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 3:38:45 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 3:38:45 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/13/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 7/8/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 4/15/2011 Transcriber Becker, Charlotte Created Ballad XML 4/15/2011 Transcriber Meyer, Shannon Created Ballad XML 4/15/2011 Double-Key Transcription Merger Zusky, Catherine Created Ballad XML 4/15/2011 Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Created Ballad XML 4/15/2011 XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created Ballad XML 10/23/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/24/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/24/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/24/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A lamentable new Ballad upon the Earle of <hi rend="bold">Essex</hi> his death.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the tune of, <hi rend="bold">Essex last goodnight.</hi></hi></seg>
ALL you that cry, O hone O, hone, come now and sing, O Lord with me, For why our Jewell is from us gone, the valiant Knight of Chivalry: Of rich and poore beloved was he, in time an honourable Knight: When by our Lawes condemned was he, and lately tooke his last good-night. Count him not like to Campion, (these traiterous men) or Babington, Nor like the Eale of Westmerland, by whom a number were undone: He never yet hurt mothers son, his quarrell still maintaind the right, Which makes the teares my cheekes down run when I thinke on his last good-night. The Portingals can witnesse be. his Dagger at Lisbone gate he flung: And like a Knight of Chivalry, his Chaine upon the same he hung: Would God that he would thither come, to fetch them both in honor right, Which thing was by his honour done, yet lately tooke his last good-night. The Frenchmen they can testifie, the Towne of Gourney he tooke in, And marchd to Roane immediately. not caring for his foes a pin: With bullets then he piercd their skin, and made them flee farre from his sight, He at that time did credit win, and now hath tane his last good-night. And stately Cales can witnesse well, even by his Proclamation right: He did command them all straightly, to have a care of Infants lives: That none should ravish Maid nor Wife, which was against their order right, Therefore they prayd for his long life, which lately tooke his last good-night.
Would God he had nere Ireland knowne, nor set his feet on Flanders ground: Then might we well enjoy our owne, where now our Jewell will not be found, Which makes our woes still to abound, trickling with salt teares in our sight, To heare his name in our eares to sound, Lord Devereux tooke his last good-night, Ashwensday on that dismall day, when he came forth of his chamber doore Upon a Scaffold there he saw. his headsman standing him before, The Nobles all they did deplore, shedding their salt teares in his sight, He said farewell to rich and poore, at his good-morrow and good-night My Lords, quoth he, you stand but by, to see performance of the Law, Its I that have deserved to die, and yeeld my life unto the bloke, I have deservd to die, I know, but nere against my Countries right, Nor to my Queene was never foe, upon my death at my good-night. Farewell Elizabeth my gracious Queene, God blesse thee and thy Councell all: Farewell you Knights of Chivalry, farewell my Souldiers stout and tall, Farewell the Commons great and small, into the hands of men I light, My life shall make amends for all, for Essex bids the world good-night. Farewell deare wife and children three, farewell my young and tender son, Comfort your selves, mourne not for me, although your fall be now begun: My time is come the glasse is run comfort your selves in former light, Seeing by my fall you are undone, your father bids the world good night. Derick, thou knowest, at Cales I savd thy life, lost for a Rape there done, Which thou thy selfe canst testifie, thine owne hand three and twenty hung, But now thou seest my life is come, by chance into thy hands I light, Strike out the blow that I may know, thou Essex lovd at his good-night. When England counted me a Papist, the works of Papists I defie, I nere worshipt Saint, nor Angell in heaven nor to the Virgin Mary I, But to Christ, which for my sinnes did die, trickling with sad teares in his sight, Spreading my armes to God on high, Lord Jesus receive my soule this night.
FINIS. Printed at London for Cuthbert Wright.