%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 03/08/2012 32065

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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

S116079 1 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 la[s]t good-night. [with variation] Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 198 A lamentable new Ballad vpon the Earle of Essex his death. A lamentable new Ballad vpon the Earle of Essex his death. A lamentable new Ballad upon the Earle of Essex his death. 1610-1610 Cuthbert Wri[ght.]

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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 country/ nation death news nobility/ court punishment religious groups virtue Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/8/2012 10:28:17 AM XBallad Becker, Charlotte Created XML Version of Ballad 3/8/2012 10:28:17 AM Transcription Supervisor Murphy, Jessica Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/8/2012 10:28:17 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Kazzi, Sara Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/8/2012 10:28:17 AM Transcriptionist Two Andrews, B. Sharkey Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/8/2012 10:28:17 AM Transcriptionist One Reese, Ryan Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/1/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 1/17/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer 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> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the tune of, <hi rend="bold">Essex last good night</hi></hi>.</seg>
ALL you that cry, O hone O, hone, come now and [s]ing, O Lord with me, For why our Jewell is from us gone, the valiant Knight of Chivalry: Of rich and poore belovd was he, in time an honourable Knight: When by our Lawes condemned was he, and lately tooke his la[st]good-night. Count him not like to Campion, (these traiterous men) or Babington, Nor like the Eale of Wesmerland, by whom a number wee 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 witness[es] 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 ot 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 l[a]st good-night. And stately Cales can witnesse well, euen by his Proclamatio[n] right: He did command them all straightly, to have a care of Infants [l]ives; That none should ravish M[ai]d nor Wife, which was against their o[rd]er right, Therefore they prayd for his [lo]ng life, which lately tooke his last g[o]od-night.
Would God he had nere Ireland knowne, nor set his feet on Flaunders 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-nigh[t.] Ashwensday on that dismall day, when he came forth of his chamber doors 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 blow, 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 yon 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 h[ung,] 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 hea[ven] nor to the Virgin Mary I, But to Christ, which for my sinnes did di[e] 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 Wri[ght]