An excellent Ballad of George Barnwel an Apprentice of London, who was undone by a strumpet, who / having thrice robbed his Master, and murdered his Uncle in Ludlow.

<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">An excellent Ballad of <hi rend="bold">George Barnwel</hi> an Apprentice of <hi rend="bold">London</hi>, who was undone by a strumpet, who</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">having thrice robbed his Master, and murdered his Uncle in <hi rend="bold">Ludlow.</hi> The tune is, <hi rend="bold">The Merchant.</hi></hi></seg>

ALl youths of fair England, that dwel both far and near Regard my story that I tell, and to my Song give ear: A London Lad I was, a Merchants Prentice bound, My name George Barnwel y did spend my Master many a pound [T]ake heed of Harlots then, [t]heir inticing trains, For by that means I have been brought to hang alive in chains. As I upon a day was walking through the street, About my Masters business, I did a woman meet; A dainty gallant Dame, and sumptuous in attire, With smiling looks she greeted me and did my name require. Which when I had declard, she gave me then a kiss; And said if I would come to her I should have more than this: In faith my Boy (quoth she) such newes I can thee tell As shall rejoyce thy very heart, then come where I do dwell. Fair Mistris then said I, if I the place may know, This Evening I will be with you for I abroad must go To gather money in that is my Masters due, And ere that I do home return Ile come and visit you. Good Barnwel then (quoth she) do thou to Shoreditch come, And ask for Mrs. Milwood there next door unto the Gun. And trust me on my truth if thou keep touch with me For thy friends sake as my own heart thou sh[a]lt right welcome be. Thus parted we in peace, and home I passed right, Then went abroad and gathered in by six a clock at night A hundred pounds and one, with bag under mine arm. I went to Mrs. Milwoods house and thought on little harm. And knocking at the door, straitway her self came down, Rus[t]ling in most brave attire, her Hood and siken Gown; Who through her beauty bright so gloriously did shine, That she amazd my dazling eyes she seemed so divine. She took me by the hand, and with a modest grace, Welcom sweet Barnwel then (quod she) unto this homely place; Welcom ten thousand times, more welcom than my Brother,

And better welcome I protest than any one or other. And seeing I have thee found as good as thy word to be, A homely supper ere thou part thou shalt take here with me. O pardon me quoth I fair Mistris I you pray, For why out of my masters house so long I dare not stay. Alas good Sir she said, art thou so strictly tyd, You may not with your dearest friend one hour or two abide? Faith then the case is hard, if it be so (quoth she) I would I were a Prentice bound to live in house with thee. Therefore my sweetest George, list well what I do say, And do not blame a woman much her fancy to bewray: Let not affections force be counted lewd desire, Nor think it not immodesty I would thy love require. With that she turnd aside, and with a blushing red, A mournful motion she bewrayd by holding down her head: A handkerchief she had all wrought with silk and gold, Which she to stop her trickling tears against her eyes did hold. This thing unto my sight was wondrous rare and strange And in my mind & inward thoghts it wrought a sudden change; That I so hardy was to take her by the hand, Saying sweet Mistris why do you so sad and heavy stand? Call me no Mistris now, but Sara thy true friend, Thy servant Sara honouring thee until her life hath end. If thou wouldst here alledge thou art in years a boy, So was Adonis, yet was he fair Venus Love and Joy. Thus I that were before of women found such grace, And seeing now so fair a Dame gave me a kind imbrace, I supt with her that night, with joys that did abound, And for the same paid presently in money twice three pound. A hundred kisses then for my farewel she gave, Saying sweet Barnwel when shal I again thy company have? O stay not too long my dear, sweet George have me in mind, Her words bewitcht his childishness she uttered them so kind,

So that I made a vow next Sunday without fail, With my sweet Sara once again to tell some pleasant tale. When she heard me say so, the tears fell from her eyes, O George quod she if thou dost fail thy Sara sure will dye. Though long yet so at last the pointed time was come That I must with my Sara meet, having a mighty Sum Of money in my hand unto her house went I, Whereas my Love upon her bed in saddest sort did lie. What ayls my hearts delight? my Sara dear (quoth he) Let not my Love lament & grieve nor sighing pain and dye: But tell to me my dearest friend what may thy woes amend, And thou shalt lack no meanes of help tho forty pound I spend. With that she turnd her head, and sickly thus did say, O my sweet George my grief is great ten pounds I have to pay Unto a cruel wretch and God he knows (quoth she) I have it not. Tush rise quoth I and take it here of me. Ten pounds, nor ten times ten shall make my Love decay, Then from his bag into her lap he cast ten pounds straitway. All bli[t]h and pleasant then to banquetting they go, She proffered him to lie with her, and said it should be so: And after that same time I gave her store of coyn, Yea sometimes fifty pound at once all which I did purloyn. And thus I did pass on until my Master then Did call to have his reckoning in cast up among his men. The which when as I heard, I knew not what to say, For well I knew that I was out two hundred pound that day. Then from my Master strait I run in secret sort, And unto Sara Milwood then my state I did report But how she usd this youth in this his extream need, The which did her necessity so oft with money feed; The second part behold shall tell it forth at large, And shall a strumpets wily ways with all her tricks discharge.

HEre coms young Barnwel unto sweet Sara my delight, I am undone except thou stand my faithful friend this night: Our master to command accounts hath just occasion found, And I am come behind the hand almost two hundred pound. And therefore knowing not at all what answer for to make, And his displeasure to escape, my way to thee I take; Hoping in this extremity thou wilt my succour be, That for a time I may remain in secret here with thee. With that she knit and bent her brows and looking all aquoy, Quod she what should I have to doe with any prentice boy? And seeing you have purloyned and got your Masters goods away, The case is bad and therefore here I mean thou shalt not stay. Why Sweetheart thou knowst he said that all which I did get I gave it and did spend it all upon thee every whit. Thou knowst I loved thee so well thou couldst not ask the thing But that I did incontinent the same unto thee bring. Quoth she thou art a paultry Jack to charge me in this sort, Being a woman of credit good, and known of good report. And therefore this I tell thee flat, be packing with good speed, I do defie thee from my heart, and scorn thy filthy deed. Is this the love & friendship which thou didst to me protest? Is this the great affection which you seemed to express? Now fie on all deceitful shews, the best is I may speed To get a Lodging any where for money in my need: Therefore false woman now farewell while twenty pound doth last, My Anchor in some other Haven I will with wisedome cast. When she perceiving by his words that he had money store, That she had guld him in such sort it grievd her heart full sore: Therefore to call him back again she did suppose it best, Stay George quoth she thou art too quick, why man I do but jest. Thinkst thou for all my passed speech that I would let thee go? Faith no quod she my love to thee I wis is more than so. You will not deal with Prentice boyes I heard you even now swear.

Therefore I will not trouble you my George hark in thine ear. Thou shalt not go to night quod she what chance so ere befall, But man wel have a bed for thee or else the Devil take all. thus I y was with wiles bewitcht and snard with fancy still, Had not the power to put away or to withstand her will. Then wine and wine I called in, and cheer upon good cheer, And nothing in y world I thought for Sarahs love too dear. Whilst I was in her company, in joy and merriment, And all too little I did think that I upon her spent. A fig for care and careful thought, when all my gold is gone, In faith my girl we wil have more who ere it light upon. My Fathers rich, why then quod I should I want any gold, With a Father indeed quoth she, a Son may well be bold. I have a Sister richly wed, Ile rob her ere Ile want. Why then quod Sara they may well consider of your scant. Nay more than this an Uncle I have at Ludlow he doth dwell, He is a Grasier which in wealth doth all the rest excell: Ere I will live in lack quoth he, and have no coyn for thee, Ile rob y Churl and murder him why should you not quoth she. Ere I would want were I a man or live in poor estate, On father, friends, and all my kin I would my talons grate: For without mony George quod she a man is but a beast, And bringing mony thou shalt be always my chiefest guest. For say thou shouldst pursued be with twenty hues and cryes, And with a warrant searched for with Argos hundred eyes, Yet in my house thou shalt be safe such privy ways there be That if they sought an hundred years they could not find out thee. And so carousing in their cups, their pleasures to content, George Barnwel had in little space his money wholly spent. which being done to Ludlow then he did provide to go, To rob his wealthy Uncle then his Minion would it so: And once or twice he thought to take his father by the way, But y he thought his master there took order for his stay.

Directly to his Uncle then he rode with might and main, Where with good welcom and good cheer he did him entertain. A sennits space he stayed there, until it chanced so His Uncle with fat cattel did unto a market goe, His kinsman needs must ride with him and when he saw right plain Great store of money he had took, in comming home again. Most suddenly within a wood he struck his Uncle down, And beat his brains out of his head so sore he crackt his crown: And fourscore pound in ready coyn out of his purse he took, And comming unto London strait the Country quite forsook. To Sara Milwood then he came, shewing his store of gold, And how he had his Uncle slain to her he plainly told. Tush tis no matter George quod she so we the money have, To have good cheer in jolly sort, and deck us fine and brave. And thus they livd in filthy sort till all his store was gone, And means to get them any more I wis poor George had none. And therefore now in railing sort she thrust him out of door, Which is the just reward they get that spend upon a whore. O do me not this vile disgrace, in this my need quoth he, She cald him thief and murderer, with all despight may be: And to the Constable she went, to have him apprehended, And in each degree how far he had the Law offended. When Barnwel saw her drift, to sea he got straitway, Where fear & dread, & conscience sting upon him still doth stay. Unto the Mayor of London then he did a Letter write, Wherein his own & Sarahs faults he did at large recite. Whereby she apprehended was, and then to Ludlow sent, where she was judgd, condemnd & hangd for murder incontinent. And there this gallant quean did die this was her greatest gains For murdering in Polonia was Barnwel hangd in chains. Lo heres the end of wilful youth, that after Harlots haunt; Who in the spoyl of other men about the streets do flaunt.

FINIS. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson.