%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A Worthy example of a Vertuous Wife, who fed / her Father with her own Milk, being condemned to be starved to death, / and afterwards pardoned by the Emperour. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1658-1658 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 03/08/2012 32041

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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

R186877 1 Flying Fame Chevy Chase Flying Fame IN Rome, I read, a Noble man, / the Emperour did offend Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 403 A Worthy example of a Vertuous Wife, who fed / her Father with her own Milk, being condemned to be starved to death, / and afterwards pardoned by the Emperour. A Worthy example of a Vertuous Wife, who fed her Father with her own Milk, being condemned to be starved to death, and afterwards pardoned by the Emperour. A Worthy example of a Virtuous Wife, who fed her Father with her own Milk, being condemned to be starved to death, and afterward pardoned by the Emperor. 1658-1658 F. Coles, T. Vere, and William Gilbertson

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 3/8/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America affliction/ health family politics/ government punishment virtue Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/8/2012 2:46:18 PM XBallad Halsey, Nicholas Created XML Version of Ballad 3/8/2012 2:46:18 PM Transcription Supervisor Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/8/2012 2:46:18 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/8/2012 2:46:18 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/8/2012 2:46:18 PM Transcriptionist One Lee, Jennifer J Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/4/2011 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/25/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/25/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 3/8/2011 Checker Mackenzie Doss Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/16/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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IN Rome, I read, a Noble man, the Emperour did offend, And for that fact he was adjudgd unto a cruell end. That he should be in Prison cast, with Irons many one, And there be famisht unto death, and brought to skin and bone. And more, if any one were known, by night or yet by day, To bring him any kind of food, his hunger to allay, The Emperour swore a mighty Oath, without remorse quoth he, They should sustain the cruelst death, that could devised be. This cruell sentence once pronouncd the Noble man was cast, Into a Dungeon dark and deep, with Irons fettered fast. Where when he had with hunger great, remained ten dayes space, And neither tasted meat nor drink, in this most wofull case. The teares along his Aged Face, most plentiously did fall, And grievously he did begin, for to complain withall. O Lord quoth he what shall I do, so hungry Lord am I, For want of bread one bit of bread, I famish starve and dye.
How precious is on grain of wheat, unto my hungry soul, One crust, one crumb one little peece my hunger to controul. Had I this Dungeon heapd with gold, I would forgo it all, To buy and purchase one brown Loaf, yea were it nere so small. O that I had but every day, one bit of it bread to eat, Though nere so mouldy, black or brown, my comfort would be great. Yea albeit I took it up, trod down in dirt and mire, It would be pleasing to my tast, and sweet to my desire. Good haw happie is the Hind, that labours all the day, The drudging the Peasant poor, that at command doth stay: They have their ordinary meals, they take no heed at all, Of those sweet crumbs and crust that they do careleslie let fall. How happie is the little chick, that without fear may go, And pick up those most precious crumbs, which they away do throw, O that some pretty little mouse, so much my friend would be, To bring some old forsaken crust, into this place to mee.
BUT, oh, my heart, it is in vain, no succour can I have, No meat, no drink, nor water eke, my loathed life to save. O bring some bread for Christs his sake, some bread, some bread for me, I dye, I dye for lack of Food, nought but stone walls I see. Thus daie and night he cried out, in most outragious sort, That all the Country far and near, were grievd at his report, And though that manie friends he had, and daughters in the Town, Yet none durst come to succour him, fearing the Emperours frown. Yet now behold one daughter dear, he had as I do find, Who livd in his displeasure great, for matching against his mind. Although he livd in mean estate, she was a virtuous wife; And for to help her Father dear, she ventured thus her life. She quickly to her sisters went, and did of them intreat, That by some secret means they would, convey their Father meat. Our Father deare doth starve she faid, the Emperours wrath is such, He dyes alas for want of Food, whereof we have too much. Sweet sisters therefore use some means, his life for to preserve, And suffer not our Father dear, in prison for to starve. Alas quoth they what shall we do, his hunger to sustain, You know tis death to anie one, that would his life maintain. And though we wish him well quoth they, we never will agree To spoile ourselves, we had as leef, that he should die as we: And sister if you love yourself, let this attempt alone, Though you do nere so secret work, at length it will be known. O hath our Father brought us up, and nourisht us quoth she; And shall we now forsake him quite in his extremitie: No, I will venture life and limb, to do my Father good; The worst that is I can but die, to fit a Tirants mood.
With that away in hast she hies, and to the Jaile shee goes, But with her wofull Father dear, she might not speak God knows; Except the Emperour would grant, her favour in that case This keeper would admit no wight, to enter in that place. Then she unto the Emperour hies, and falling on her knee, With wringing hands and bitter tears, these words pronounced she. My hopeless Father gracious Lord, offending of your Grace, Is judgd unto a pining death, within a wofull place. Which I confesse he hath deservd, yet mightie Prince quoth she, Vouchsafe in gracious sort to grant one simple boone to me. It chanced so I matchd myself against my Fathers mind, Whereby I did procure his wrath, ar Fortune hath assignd. And seeing now the time is come, he must resign his breath, Vouchsafe that I may speak with him, before his hour of death, And reconcile myselfe to him, his favour to obtain; That when he dies I may not then under his curse remain. The Emperour granted her request, conditionallie that she, Each time unto her Father came should thorowlie searched be, No bread nor meat she with her brought, to help him there distrest, But every daie she nourishd him, with her most tender breast. Thus by her milk he was preservd a twelve month and a daie, And was most fair and fat to see, yet no man knew which waie, The Emperour musing much thereat at length did understand, How he was fed and yet his Law, not broke at anie hand. And much admiring at the same, and her great vertue shown, He pardond him and honour[]d her, with great preferment known, Her Father ever after that did love her as his life, And blest the time that she was made a loving wedded wife.
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and William Gilbertson.