An excellent BALLAD of GEORGE BARNWELL, an Apprentice in the / City of LONDON, who was Undone by a STRUMPET, who caused him thrice to Rob his Master, and to Murder his Uncle in Ludlow, &c.

<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">An excellent BALLAD of <hi rend="bold">GEORGE BARNWELL,</hi> an Apprentice in the</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">City of <hi rend="bold">LONDON,</hi> who was Undone by a STRUMPET, who caused him thrice to Rob his</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Master, and to Murder his Uncle in <hi rend="bold">Ludlow,</hi> etc. To the Tune of, <hi rend="bold">The Merchant,</hi> etc.</hi></seg>

ALl Youths of fair England, that dwell both far and near, Regard my Story that I tell, and to my Song give ear, A London Lad I was, a Merchant's Prentice bound, My name George Barnwel, that did spend my Master many a pound. Take heed of Harlots then, and their inticing trains, For by that means I have bin brought to hang alive in chains. As I upon a day was walking through the street, About my Master's business, I did a Wanton meet, A gallant dainty Dame, and sumptuous in attire, With smiling looks she greeted me, and did my name require: Which when I had declar'd, 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 news I can you tell, As shall rejoyce the very heart, then come where I do dwell. Fair Mistriss, then said I, I the place may know, 'This evening I will be with you, I abroad must go 'To gather monies in, is my Master's due, 'And e're that I do home return, come and visit you. Good Barnwel, then (quoth she) do thou to Shoreditch come, And ask for Mistress Milwood there, next door unto the gun; And trust me on my truth, if thou keep touch with me, For thy Friends sake, and as my own heart thou shalt 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, An hundred pound and one, with bag under my arm, I went to Mistress Milwood's house, and thought on little harm: And knocking at the door, straightway herself came down, Rustling in most brave attire, her hood and silken gown. Who through her beauty bright, so gloriously did shine, That she amaz'd my dazling eyes, she seemed so divine. She took me by the hand, and with a modest grace, Welcome sweet Barnwel, then (quoth she) unto this homely place; Welcome ten thousand times, more welcome then 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 e're thou part, thou shalt take here with me. pardon me (quoth I) Mistress, I you pray, 'For why, out of my Master's house long I dare not stay. Alas, good Sir, she said, are you so strictly ty'd, 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 affection's force be counted lewd desire, For think it not immodesty I should thy love require. With that she turn'd aside, and with a blushing red, A mournful motion she bewray'd; by holding down her head: A handkerchief she had all wrought with silk and gold, Which she to stay her trickling tears, against her eyes did hold. This thing unto my fight was wondrous, rare and strange, And in my mind and inward thoughts it wrought a sudden change: That I so hardy was, to take her by the hand, Saying, 'Sweet Mistress why do you sad and heavy stand? Call me no Mistress now, but Sarah thy true Friend, Thy Servant Sarah, honouring thee until her life doth end: If thou would'st here alledge thou art in years a Boy, So was Adonis, yet was he fair Venuss love and joy. Thus I that ne'r before of Woman found such grace, And seeing now so fair a Dame give me a kind imbrace; I supt with her that night with joys that did a bound, And for the same paid presently, in mony twice three pound: An hundred kisses then, for my farewel she gave, Saying, Sweet Barnwel, when shall I again thy company have? O stay not too long my Dear, sweet George, have me in mind. Her words betwicht my childishness, she uttered them so kind.

To that I made a vow, next Sunday without fail, With my sweet Sarah once again, to tell some pleasant tale. When she heard me say so, the tears fell from her eyes, O George, quoth she, if thou dost fail, thy Sarah sure will dye. Though long, yet loe at last, the pointed day was come, That I must with my Sarah meet, having a mighty sum Of mony in my hand, unto her house went I, Whereas my Love upon her bed in saddest sort did lye: 'What ails my heart's delight, Sarah dear, quoth I, 'Let not my Love lament and grieve, sighing pine and dye, 'But tell to me my dearest Friend, may thy woes amend, 'And thou shalt lack no means of help, forty pound I spend. With that she turn'd 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 he, take it here of me; 'Ten pounds, nor ten times ten make my love decay. Then from his bag into her lap, he cast ten pound straightway. All blith and pleasant then, to banquetting they go, She proffered him to lye 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 pounds that day. Then from my Master straight I ran in secret sort, And unto Sarah Milwood then my state I did report. But how she us'd this Youth, in this his extream need, The which did her necessity so oft with mony feed; The Second Part behold, shall tell it forth at large, And shall a Strumpet's wily ways, with all her tricks discharge.

<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second PART of <hi rend="bold">GEORGE BARNWELL,</hi> to the same Tune.</hi></seg>

comes young Barnwel unto thee, sweet Sarah, my Delight, 'I am undone except thou stand faithful Friend this night: 'Our Master to command accounts, just occasion found, 'And I am found behind the hand two hundred pound: 'And therefore knowing not at all, answer for to make, 'And his displeasure to escape, way to thee I take; 'Hoping in this extremity, wilt my succour be, 'That for a time I may remain safety here with thee. With that she knit and bent her brows, and looking all a quoy, Quoth she, What should I have to do with any Prentice-boy? And seeing you have purloyn'd and got your Master's goods away, The case is bad, and therefore here I mean thou shalt not stay. Sweet-heart thou knost, he said all which I did get, 'I gave it and did spend it all thee every whit: 'Thou knowst I loved thee so well, could'st not ask the thing, 'But that I did incontinent, same unto the bring. Quoth she, Thou are 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 and friendship which did'st to me protest? 'Is this the great affection which seemed to express? 'Now fie on all deceitful shows, best is I may speed, 'To get a lodging any-where, mony in my need: 'Therefore false Woman now farewel, twenty pound doth last, 'My anchor in some other haven will with wisdom cast. When she perceived by his words, that he had mony store, That she had guli'd him in such sort, it grieved her heart full sore: Therefore to call him back again, she did suppose it best: Stay George, quoth she, thou art to quick, why Man I do but jest; Think'st thou for all my passed speech that I would let thee go? Faith no, quoth she, my love to thee I wiss is more then so. will not deal with Prentice-boys, heard you even now swear,

Therefore I will not trouble you. My George hark in thine ear, Thou shalt not go tonight, quod she, what chance to e're befal, But Man we'll have a bed for thee, or else the Devil take all. Thus I that was with wiles betwicht and snar'd with fancy still, Had not the power to put away, or withstand her will. Then wine and wine I called in, and cheer upon good cheer, And nothing in the 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 thoughts, all my gold is gone, 'In faith my Girl we will have more, it light upon. 'My Father's rich, why then, quod I, I want any gold? With a father indeed, quoth she, a Son may well be bold. I have a Sister richly wed, rob her e're i'll want; Why then, quod Sarah, they may well consider of your scant. Nay more then this, an Uncle I have Ludlow he doth dwell, 'he is a Grasier, which in wealth all the rest excel: 'E're I will live in lack, quoth he, have no coyn for thee, 'I'll rob his house and murder him. Why should you not, quoth she: E're 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 should'st pursued be with twenty Hues and Crys, And with a warrant searched for with Argus 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 carrousing in their cups, their pleasures to content, George Barnwel had in little space his mony 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 that he thought his Master had took order for his stay:

Directly to his Uncle then he rode with might and main, Where with welcome and good cheer he did him entertain: A sennight's space he stayed there, until it chanced so, His Uncle with his cattle did unto a market go: His Kinsman needs must ride with him, and he saw right plain, Great store of mony he had took; in coming home again, Most suddenly with in a wood he struck his Uncle down, And beat his brains out of his head, so sore he crackt his crown: And fourscore poud in ready coyn out of his purse he took, And coming into London Town, the Country quite forsook: To Sarah Milwood then he came, shewing his store of gold, And how he had his Uncle slain, to her he plainly told, Tush, it's no matter, George, quod she, so we the mony have, To have good chear in jolly sort, and deck us fine and brave. And thus they liv'd in filthy sort, till all his store was gone, And means to get them any more, I wiss 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 foul disgrace, this my need, quoth he. She called him Thief and Murtherer, with all despight might be. And to the Constable she went to have him apprehended, And shew'd in each degree how far he had the law offended. When Barnwel saw her drift, to sea he got straightway, Where fear and dread and conscience sting upon himself doth stay: Unto the Mayor of London then, he did a letter write, Wherein his own and Sarahs faults he did at large recite. Whereby she apprehended was, and then to Ludlow sent, Where she was judg'd, condemn'd and hang'd for murder incontinent, And there this gallant Quean did dye, this was her greatest gains: For murder in Polonia was Barnwel hang'd in chains. Lo, here's the End of wilful Youth, that after Harlots haunt, Who in the spoil of of other Men, about the streets do flaunt.

Licens'd and Enter'd according to Order. London: Printed by and for W.O. and A.M. and sold by the Booksellers of Pye-corner and London-bridge.