%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A lamentable Dittie composed vpon the death of / Robert Lord Deuereux late Earle of Essex, who was beheaded in the / Tower of London, vpon Ashwednesday in the morning. 1601. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1603-1603 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/30/2012 32221

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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

S121738 1 Welladay Welladay Welladay SWeet Englands pride is gone / welladay welladay, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 18290 A lamentable Dittie composed vpon the death of / Robert Lord Deuereux late Earle of Essex, who was beheaded in the / Tower of London, vpon Ashwednesday in the morning. 1601. A lamentable Dittie composed vpon the death of Robert Lord Deuereux late Earle of Essex, who was beheaded in the Tower of London, vpon Ashwednesday in the morning. 1601. A lamentable Ditty composed upon the death of Robert Lord Devereux late Earl of Essex, who was beheaded in the Tower of London, upon Ash Wednesday in the morning. 1601. 1603-1603 Margret Allde

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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 4/30/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America death politics/ government punishment Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/30/2012 10:58:24 AM XBallad Grant, Danielle Created XML Version of Ballad 4/30/2012 10:58:24 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 10:58:24 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristy Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 10:58:24 AM Transcriptionist Two Grafals, Michael Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 10:58:24 AM Transcriptionist One Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2011 Checker Jonathan Forbes Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 6/27/2011 Checker Jonathan Forbes Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 6/2/2011 Checker Gillian Mellon Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/4/2011 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/3/2011 Bibliographer Grafals Michael Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A lamentable Dittie composed upon the death of</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Robert Lord Devereux late Earle of Essex, who was beheaded in the</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Tower</hi> of London, upon <hi rend="bold">Ashwednesday</hi> in the morning. 1601.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the tune of Welladay.</hi></seg>
SWeet Englands pride is gone welladay welladay, Which makes her sigh and grone evermore still: He did her fame advance, In Ireland Spaine and France, And now by dismall chaunce, is from her tane. He was a vertuous Peere, welladay welladay, And was esteemed deere evermore still: He alwaies helpt the poore, Which makes them sigh full sore his death they doe deplore, In every place. Brave honor gracd him still gallantly gallantly, He nere did deede of ill, well is it knowne: But envie that foule fiend Whose mallice nere hath end, hath brought true vertues friend Unto his thrall. At Tilt he did surpasse gallantly gallantly: all men that is and was evermore still: One day as it was seene, In honour of his Queene, Such deeds hath nere been seen, As he did doe. Abroade and eke at home, gallantly, gallantly, For vallour there was none, like him before: In Ireland France and Spaine, (They feared great Essex name, And England lovd the same, In every place. But all would not prevaile welladay welladay: His deedes did nought availe, more was the pittie: He was condemnd to die, For treason certainely, But God that sits on hie Knoweth all things.
That Sunday in the morne, welladay welladay: That he to the Cittie came, with all his troupe: That first began the strife, And caused him loose his life, And others did the like, As well as hee. Yet her Princely Majestie gratiously, gratiously, Hath pardon given free to many of them: She hath released them quite, And given them their right, they may pray both day & night God to defend her. Shrovetewesday in the night welladay, welladay, With a heavy harted spright as it is sayd: The leiftenant of the Tower Who kept him in his power, At ten a clocke that hour, To him did come. And sayd unto him there, mournefully, mournfully, My Lord you must prepare, to die tomorrow: Gods will be done quoth he, Yet shall you strangely see, God strong in me to be, Though I am weake. I pray you pray for me welladay, welladay, That God may strengthen me, against that houre: Then straightway did he call, The Guard under the wall, And did intreate them all For him to pray. For tomorrow is the day welladay welladay, That I the debt must pay, which I doe owe: It is my life I meane, Which I must pay my Queene, Even soe hath justice given, That I must doe.
In the morning was he brought, welladay welladay: Where a Scaffold was set up, within the Tower: Many Lords were present then, With other Gentlemen, Which were appointed then T[o] see him dye. You noble Lords quoth he welladay welladay, That must the witnesse be, of this my death: Know I never loved Papistrye, But did it still defye, And Essex thus did dye, Heere in this place. I have a sinner been welladay welladay: Yet never wrongd my Queene in all my life, My God I did offend, Which grieves me at my end, May all the rest amend, I doe forgive them. To the state I nere ment ill welladay, welladay, Neither wisht the commons ill in all my life: But loved all with my heart, And alwaies tooke their part, Whhereas there was desert, In any place. Then mildely did he crave mournefully mournefully, He might that favour have private to pray: He then prayed heartely, And with great fervency, To God that sits on hie, For to receive him. And then he prayed againe mournefully mournefully, God to preserve his Queene from all her foes: And send her long to raigne, True Justice to maintaine, And not to let proude Spaine, Once to offend her. His gowne he slipt off then welladay welladay, And put off his hat and band and hung it by, Praying still continually, To God that sits on hie, That he might paciently, There suffer death. My headesman that must be, then said he cheerefullie, Let him come heere to me, That I may him see: Who kneeled to him then, Art thou (quoth he) the man,
Which art appointed now, my life to free. Yes my Lord did he say welladay, welladay, Forgive me I you pray for this your death: I heare doe thee forg[ive] And may true justice live, No foule crime to forgive, Within their place. Then he kneeled downe againe, mournefully mournefully: And was required by some there standing by: To forgive his enemies, Before death closde his eyes, Which he did in heartie wise, Thanking them for it: That they would remember him welladay, welladay: That he might forgive all them, that had him wrongd: Now my Lords I take my leave Sweet Christ my soule receive, Now when you wil I prepare, For I am readie. He laide his head on the blocke, welladay welladay: But his doublet did let the stroke some there did say: What must be done (quoth he) Shall be done presently, Then his doublet off put hee, and laye downe againe. Then his headesman did his part cruelly, cruelly, He was never seene to start, For all the blowes: His soule it is at rest, in heaven among the blest, Where God send us to rest, When it shall please him.
God save the King. FINIS. Imprinted at London for Margret Allde, and are to be solde at the long shop under Saint Mil- dreds Church in the Poul- try. 1603.