%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A letter to Rome, to declare to ye Pope, / Iohn Felton his freend is hangd in a rope: / And farther, a right his grace to enforme, / He dyed a Papist, and seemd not to turne. Peele, Steven University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1571-1571 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/30/2012 32412

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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

S121823 WHo keepes Saint Angell gates? / Where lieth our holy father say? Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 18325 A letter to Rome, to declare to ye Pope, / Iohn Felton his freend is hangd in a rope: / And farther, a right his grace to enforme, / He dyed a Papist, and seemd not to turne. A letter to Rome, to declare to ye Pope, Iohn Felton his freend is hangd in a rope: And farther, a right his grace to enforme, He dyed a Papist, and seemd not to turne. A letter to Rome, to declare to ye Pope, John Felton his friend is hanged in a rope: And farther, a right his grace to inform, He died a Papist, and seemed not to turn. Peele, Steven Printer Alexander Lacie 1571-1571 Henrie Kyrkham

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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 punishment religious figures religious groups Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/30/2012 12:44:01 PM XBallad Kroeze, Kathryn Created XML Version of Ballad 4/30/2012 12:44:01 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 12:44:01 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 12:44:01 PM Transcriptionist Two Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 12:44:01 PM Transcriptionist One Wong, Bethany Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/7/2011 Checker Jonathan Forbes Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/19/2011 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/19/2011 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/11/2011 Bibliographer Grafals Michael Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 5/11/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/11/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/11/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left">A letter to Rome, to declare to the Pope,</seg> <seg n="2" rend="left">John Felton his freend is hangd in a rope:</seg> <seg n="3" rend="left">And farther, a right his grace to enforme,</seg> <seg n="4" rend="left">He dyed a Papist, and seemd not to turne.</seg> <lb/> <seg n="5" rend="left">To the tune of Row well ye Mariners.</seg>
WHo keepes Saint Angell gates? Where lieth our holy father say? I muze that no man waytes, Nor comes to meete me on the way. Sir Pope I say? yf you be nere, Bow downe to me your listning eare: Come forth, besturre you then a pace, Fo I have newes to show your grace. Stay not, come on, That I from hence were shortly gon: Harke well, heare mee, What tidings I have brought to thee The Bull so lately sent To England by your holy grace, John Felton may repent For settyng up the same in place: For he upon a goodly zeale He bare unto your common weale Hath ventured lyfe to pleasure you, And now is hangd, I tell you true. Wherfore, sir Pope, In England have you lost your hope. Curse on, spare not, Your knights are lyke to go to pot. But further to declare, He dyed your obedient chylde: And never seemd to spare, For to exalt your doctrine wylde: And tolde the people every one He dyed your obedient sonne And as he might, he did set forth, Your dignitie thats nothyng worth. Your trash, your toyes, He toke to be his onely joyes: Therfore, hath wonne, Of you the crowne of martirdome. Let him be shryned then Accordyng to his merits due, As you have others doen That prove unto their Prince untrue: For these (sir Pope) you love of lyfe, That with their Princes fall at stryfe: Defendyng of your supreame powre, Yet som have paid ful deare therfore. As now, lately, Your freend John Felton seemd to try Therfore, I pray, That you a masse for him wyll say.
Ryng all the belles in Rome To doe his sinful soule some good, Let that be doen right soone Because that he hath shed his blood, His quarters stand not all together But ye mai hap to ring them thether In place where you wold have them be Then might you doe as pleaseth ye. For whye? they hang, Unshryned each one upon a stang: Thus standes, the case, On London gates they have a place. His head upon a pole Stands wavering in the wherling wynd, But where shoulde be his soule To you belongeth for to fynd: I wysh you Purgatorie looke And search each corner with your hooke, Lest it might chance or you be ware The Devyls to catce him in a snare. Of ye, him see, From Purgatorie set him free: Let not, trudge than, Fetch Felton out and yf ye can. I wysh you now sir Pope To loke unto your faithful freendes, That in your Bulles have hope To have your pardon for their sinnes, For here I tell you, every Lad Doth scoff & scorne your bulles to bad, And thinke they shall the better fare For hatyng of your cursed ware. Now doe, I end, I came to show you as a frend: Whether blesse, or curse, You send to me, I am not the worse.
FINIS. Steven Peele. Imprinted by Alexander Lacie for Henrie Kyrkham, dwellyng at the signe of the blacke Boy: at the middle North dore of Paules church.