%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A most excellent and vertuous Ballad of the Patient Grissell. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1602-1602 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/20/2011 30210

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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

R214502 4 UNKNOWN UNKNOWN The Brides good morrow Bride's Good-Morrow, The The Bride's Good Morrow the same tune Bride's Good-Morrow, The The Same Tune A Noble Marquesse, / AS he did ride a hunting SHe tooke the Babies, / Euen from the nursing Ladies, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 302 1: 303 A most excellent and vertuous Ballad of the Patient Grissell. A most excellent and vertuous Ballad of the Patient Grissell. A most excellent and virtuous Ballad of the Patient Grissell. 1602-1602 Iohn 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 4/20/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America children class clothing/ appearance marriage nobility/ court virtue Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/20/2011 2:30:48 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/20/2011 2:30:48 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/20/2011 2:30:48 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Mann, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/20/2011 2:30:48 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/20/2011 2:30:48 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/13/2010 Checker Charlotte Becker Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 7/14/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 2/2/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/2/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/2/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/14/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A most excellent and vertuous Ballad of the Patient <hi rend="bold">Grissell.</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the tune of <hi rend="bold">The Brides good morrow.</hi></hi></seg>
A Noble Marquesse, As he did ride a hunting hard by a Forrest side, A faire and comely Maiden, As she did sit a spinning, his gentle eye espide: Most faire and lovely, And of comely grace was she, although in simple attire; She sung full sweetly, With pleasant voyce melodiously, which set the Lords heart on fire; The more he lookt, the more he might, Beauty bred his hearts delight, And to this Damsell then he went. God speed (quoth he) thou famous flower, Faire Mistris of this homely Bower, Where love and vertue dwels with sweet content. With comely gesture, And modest mild behaviour she bade him welcome then, She entertaind him In faithfull friendly manner, and all his Gentlemen. The Noble Marquesse Ins heart felt such a flame, which set his senses at strife, Quoth he, faire Maiden, Shew me soone what is thy name, I meane to make thee my wife. Grissell is my name quoth she, Farre unfit for your degree, silly Maiden, and of Parents poore. Nay, Grissell, thou art rich, he said, A vertuous, faire, and comely Maid, Grant me thy love, and I will aske no more.
At length she consented, And being both contented, they married were with speed: Her Countrey Russet Was changd to Silke and Velvet, as to her state agreed: And when that she Was trimly tired in the same, her beauty shined bright, Farre staining every Other faire and Princely Dame that did appeare in her sight. Many envied her therefore, Because she was of Parents poore, And twixt her Lord and she great strife did raise: Some said this, and some said that, And some did call her Beggers brat, And to her Lord they would her oft dispraise. O Noble Marquesse, Quoth they, why dost thou wrong us, thus basely for to wed, That might have gotten An honorable Lady into your Princely bed? Who will not now Your Noble Issue still deride, which shall hereafter be borne, That are of bloud so base, Borne by the Mothers side, the which will bring them in scorne. Put her therefore quite away, And take to you a Lady gay, Whereby your Linage may renowned be. Thus every day they seemd to prate, That malicd Grissells good estate, Who all this while tooke it most patiently.
When that the Marquesse Did see that they were bent thus against his faithfull Wife, Whom he most dearely, Tenderly, and intirely, beloved as his life, Minding in secret For to prove her patient heart thereby her foes to disgrace, Thinking to shew her A hard discourteous part, that men might pitty her case: Great with child this Lady was, And at last it came to passe, Two goodly children at one birth she had, A Son and Daughter God had sent, Which did their Father well content, And which did make their Mothers heart full glad, Great royall Feasting Was at these Childrens Christning, and Princely triumph made, Sixe weekes together, All Nobles that came thither were entertaind and staid, And when all these pleasant Sportings quite were done, the Marquesse a Messenger sent For his young Daughter, And his pretty smiling Son, declaring his full intent, How that the Babes must murdred be, For so the Marquesse did decree: Come, let me have the Children, then he said. With that faire Grissel wept full sore, She wrung her hands & said no more, My gracious Lord must have his will obeyd.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part To the same tune.</hi></seg>
SHe tooke the Babies, Even from the nursing Ladies, betweene her tender armes, She often wishes With many sorrowfull kisses, that she might ease their harmes: Farewell, farewell A thousand times my children deare, never shall I see you againe; Tis long of me Your sad and wofull mother here, for whose sake both must be slaine; Had I beene borne of Royall race, You might have beene in happy case, But you must dye for my unworthinesse. Come messenger of death (quoth she) Take my dearest Babes to thee, And to their Father my complaints expresse. He tooke the Children, And to his Noble Master he brought them both with speed, Who in secret sent them Unto a Noble Lady to be brought up indeed. Then to faire Grissell With a heavy heart he goes where she sate mildly all alone, A pleasant gesture, And a lovely looke she shewes, as if no griefe she had knowne. (Quod he) my children now are slaine, What thinks faire Grissell of the same, Sweet Grissell now declare thy mind to me. Sith you, my Lord are pleasd with it, Poore Grissell thinks the action fit, Both I and mine at your command will be.
My Nobles murmur, Faire Grissell at thy honour, and I no joy can have Till thou be banisht Both from my Court and presence, as they unjustly crave; Thou must be stript Out of thy stately garments all, and as thou camst to me In homely gray In stead of Bisse and purest Pall, now all thy clothing must be. My Lady thou must be no more, Nor I thy Lord, which grieves me sore, The poorest life must now content thy mind. A groat to thee I must not give, Thee to maintaine while I doe live, Against my Grissell such great foes I find. When gentle Grissell Did heare these wofull tidings, the teares stood in her eyes, Nothing she answered, No words of discontentment did from her lips arise; Her Velvet Gowne Most patiently she slipped off, her Kirtle of Silke with the same, Her Russet Gowne Was brought againe with many a scoffe to beare them her selfe she did frame, When she was drest in this array, And was ready to part away, God send long life unto my Lord (quoth she) Let no offence be found in this, To give my Lord a parting kisse, With watry eyes, farewell my deare, he said.
From Princely Palace, Unto her Fathers Cottage, poore Grissell now is gone: Full sixteene Winters She lived there contented, no wrong she thought upon: And at that time through All the Land the speeches went, the Marquesse should married be, Unto a Noble Lady great, Of high discent, and to the same all parties did agr[ee] The Marquesse sent for Grissell faire The Brides bed-chamber to prepare That nothing therein might be found awry; The Bride was with her Brother com[e] Which was great joy to all and som[e] But Grissell tooke all this most patiently. And in the morning, When as they should be wedded, her patience then was tride; Grissell was charged, Her selfe in friendly manner; for to attire the Bride, Most willingly She gave consent to doe the same, the Bride in her bravery was dres[t] And presently The Noble Marquesse thither came with all his Lords at his request, O Grissell, I would aske of thee, If to this match thou wilt agree, Me thinks thy lookes are waxed wondrous coy. With that they all began to smile, And Grissell she replide the while, God send Lord Marquesse many yeares of joy. The Marquesse was moved To see his best beloved thus patient in distresse, He stept unto her, And by the hand he tooke her, these words he did expresse, Thou art my Bride, And all the Brides I meane to have, these two thine owne children be. The youthfull Lady On her knees did blessing crave, her brother as well as she. And you that envied her estate, Whom I have made my loving Mate Now blush for shame, and honour vertuous life. The Chronicles of lasting fame Shall evermore extoll the name Of Patient Grissell my most constant Wife.
London Printed for John Wright. FINIS.