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EBBA 33253

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The Mistaken Bride:
OR, The faithful Friend.
To an Excellent New Tune, call'd Celia that I once was blest.

IN fair London late did dwell,
A Man whose Fame did most excel;
He possessing a rich Blessing,
Of his hopeful Son we'll tell:
Fair Gerardo he was named,
Mild and of sweet Temper framed.

When that he was come to Age,
In Vertues School fit to engage,
His wise Father, he chose rather
Oxford, that fair Learned Stage,
Than the Court which most admire,
And which Youth do so desire.

Thither he was sent to get,
Fair Learning and accomplish'd Wit;
There a Knight, with great delight,
Took charge of this Companion fit,
For his Son George, such a Creature,
Just so tall and of such a Feature.

In their Stature and their Face,
They were of equal Height and Grace,
in their Favour, and Behaviour,
So alike in every place,
One was not known from the other,
As if Twins, and of one Mother

And as they in Face were found,
Alike in Vertue did abound;
Kind and Pritty, both like witty,
Not their Equals the World round;
Not like others that are roving,
But most constant in their loving.

George he lov'd a Lady fair,
With whom no Virgin could compare,
All admiring and desiring,
Such a Beauty bright and rare,
Like the Sun-Beams in the Morning,
All the Meads and Fields adorning.

On a Time it chanced so,
That to this Beauty he would go,
For his Pleasure, to this Treasure,
And he ask'd Gerardo too,
If he would not see this Beauty,
He reply'd it was his Duty.

And along with him he went,
But Beauty bred his discontent,
her bright Eyes, did so surprize,
The faithful youth, and did torment.
She with Graces so abounded,
And his gentle Heart so wounded.

After this perplex'd in Mind,
His Friend him in despair did find;
And requested, and protested,
That the cause thereof he'd find:
He then told in mournful fashion,
That the Lady caus'd his Passion.

Courage then, dear Friend, quoth he,
This Beauty I'll resign to thee,
She divine, shall be all thine,
For we will never disagree:
Go and put on my Apparel,
And of her I'll take my Farewel.

Go to Church and in my stead,
You shall the lovely Lady wed,
Do not languish, ease your anguish,
Since we both alike are free'd,
None can know us from each other,
Not so much as our own Mother.

Then next day as they decree'd
Gerardo wedded her indeed,
After Feasting, Mirth and Jesting,
To the Nuptial Bed they speed;
She supposing 'twas her Lover,
Gave him Joys none may discover.

All the night in her soft Arms,
He lay possest of all her Charms;
but next day, a Post that way,
Did give these Lovers loud Alarms,
For Gerardo comes from London,
And now all the Plot is undone,

All the matter's plainly prov'd
That 'twas his Friend the Lady lov'd,
Though she Wedded and was Bedded,
To Gerardo in mistake:
Now their Kindred all deceive them,
All enrag'd, they railing leave them.

Banish'd thus from London quite,
And depriv'd of Wealth and Right,
Fortune froward and untoward,
Made him sigh both day and night,
In (saith he) this Fortune cruel,
I'll go seek my Friend and Jewel.

When that he to Oxford came,
And found his Friend by mighty Fame,
He possessing, Fortune's Blessing,
Wealth and a renowned Name;
Quoth he, now I am ashamed,
That Gerardo should be named.

Wherefore I within this Street
Will stay till I my Friend do meet,
He ran by, him did espy,
But knew not 'twas his Friend so nigh,
Which did cause Gerardos anguish,
Made him sigh and made him languish.

Then in Grief he drew his Knife,
Thereby to end his wretched Life,
Sighing, moaning, sadly groaning;
Till he there fell fast asleep,
Where, while he lay soundly sleeping,
There a murdering Thief came sleeping.

With this Knife he ran amain,
And thrust in the Man he had slain,
After peeping, he still sleeping,
Put it in his hand again;
Then away fled from the sleeper,
That had Heaven for his safe Keeper.

When that search in this was made,
Gerardo was for Murther staid;
He confest and did protest,
That he the murder'd Man had slain:
But his Friend that knew him pittied,
And Gerardo soon acquitted.

Quoth he, then 'twas only I
That kill'd this Man, then let me dye;
while they pleaded, and proceeded,
The Thief there himself came by,
To the Judges did discover
Everything, the Fact all over.

In brave rich Array he straight
Was suited, as became his Fate,
And his Land, at his Command,
And former Servants on him wait:
The Thief Pardon'd here lamented,
His foul Fact, and so repented.

Printed for J. Conyers, at the Black Raven near St. Andrews Church, in Holborn.

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