%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> THE / Lady ISABELLA's Tragedy; / Or, The Step Mother's Cruelty. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/17/2014 33839

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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

1 NONE In Peascod Time THere was a Lord of worthy Fame, / And a Hunting he would ride, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1137 THE / Lady ISABELLA's Tragedy; / Or, The Step Mother's Cruelty. THE Lady ISABELLA's Tragedy; Or, The Step Mother's Cruelty ?-?

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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 Featured 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 6/17/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America children crime death family nobility/ court punishment violence Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/17/2014 2:41:28 PM XBallad Jaworski, Cheryl Created XML Version of Ballad 6/17/2014 2:41:28 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/17/2014 2:41:28 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/17/2014 2:41:28 PM Transcriptionist Two Aulakh, Pavneet Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/17/2014 2:41:28 PM Transcriptionist One Jaworski, Cheryl Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/4/2013 Checker William Hildalgo Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/20/2012 Bibliographer Olivia Miller Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/23/2013 Checker Phillip Cortez Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/23/2013 Checker Phillip Cortez Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">THE Lady ISABELLA's Tragedy;</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Or, The Step Mother's Cruelty.</hi></seg>
THere was a Lord of worthy fame, And a hunting he would ride, Attended with a noble train Of Gentry by his side; And whilst he did in chace remain, To see both sport and play, His Lady went as she did feign Unto the church to pray. The Lord he had a daughter fair, Whose beauty shone so bright, She was belov'd both far and near, By many Lord and Knight: Fair Isabella she was call'd, A creature fair was she, She was her father's only Joy, As after you shall see: But her cruel Step Mother, Did envy her so much,
That day by day she sought her life, Her malice it was such. She bargain'd with the Master Cook To take her life away, And calling of her daughter dear, She thus to her did say: Go home sweet daughter I thee pray, Go hasten presently, And tell unto the Master Cook These words that I tell thee. Go bid him dress for dinner strait, The fair and milk-white doe, Which in the Park do shine so bright, There's none so fair a show. The Lady fearing of no harm, Obey'd her Mother's will, And presently she hasted home, Her mind for to fulfill.
She strait into the kitchen went, Her message for to tell, And there she spy'd the Master Cook, Who did with malice swell: Now Master Cook it must be so, Do that which I thee tell; You needs must dress the milk white doe, And that you know full well. Then strait his bloody cruel hands He on the Lady laid, Who quivering and shaking stands, Whilst thus to her he said, Thou art the doe that I must dress, See here behold my knife, For it is pointed presently To rid thee of thy life. O then cries out the scullion boy, As loud as loud might be, O save her life good master cook, And make your pies of me: For heavens sake do not murder My mistress with that knife: You know she is her father's Joy, For Christ's sake save her life: I will not save her life said he, Nor make my pies of thee, And if you do this deed betray, Thy butcher I will be. Now when this Lord he did come home. For to set down to eat, He called for his daughter dear, To come and carve his meat, Into some nunery she is gone, Your daughter now forgot; Then solemnly he made a vow, Before the company, That he would neither eat nor drink, Before he did her see. O then bespoke the skullion boy, With a voice both loud and high, If that you would your daughter see, Good sir, cut up the pye; Wherein her flesh is minced small, And parched with the fire, All caused by her Step Mother, Who did her death desire.
And cursed be the Master Cook, O cursed may he be, I proffered him my own heart's blood, From death to set her free. Then all in black this Lord did mourn, And for his daughter's sake, He judg'd the cruel Step Mother, For to be burnt at stake. Likewise he judg'd the Master Cook In boiling oil to stand, And made the simple scullion boy, The heir to all his land. Their LAMENTATION. NOW when the wicked Master Cook Beheld his death draw near, And that by friends he was forsook, He pour'd forth many a tear, Saying, The Lady whom I serv'd, Prompted me to this deed, And as a death I have deserv'd, coming on with speed. I must confess these hands of mine, Did kill the innocent, When her dear breath she did resign, My heart did not relent. This said, into the boiling oil, He then forthwith was cast, And then within a little time The mother went at last From prison to the burning stake, And as she past along, She did sad lamentation make Unto the numerous throng. These were the self-same words she said The daughter of my Lord, I doom'd to death, the laws I broke, And shall have my reward. Then to the burning stake they ty'd The worst of all Step-Dames, And then according to the Law, She fairly dy'd in flames. Now let th[e]ir deaths a warning be, To all that hear this Song, And thus I end my Tragedy, The Duke he mourned long.