[The l]amentable fall of Queene Eleanor, who for her Pride and
wickednesse, by Gods judgements sunck into the ground at Charing-Crosse,
and rose at Queen-Hith.
To the tune of, Gentle and Courteous.
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WHen Edward was in England King,
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the first of all that name,
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Proud Eleanor he made his Queene,
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a stately Spanish Dame;
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Whose wicked life and sinfull Pride,
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through England did excell,
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To dainties Dames and gallant Maids,
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this Queen was knowne full well.
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She was the first that did invent
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in Coaches brave to ride,
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She was the first that brought this Land
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to deadly sinne of Pride:
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No English Taylors here could serve
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to make her rich attire,
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But sent for Taylors into Spaine
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to feed her vaine desire.
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They brought in Fashions strange & new,
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with golden garments bright,
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The Farthingale, and mightie Ruffes,
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with Gownes of rare delight;
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Our London Dames in Spanish Pride
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did flourish everywhere,
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Our Englishmen like women then
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did weare long locks of Haire.
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Both man and child, both Maid and wife,
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were drown'd in Pride of Spaine,
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And thought the Spanish Taylors then
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our Englishmen did staine.
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Whereat the Queen did much despight,
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to see our Englishmen
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[In] vestures clad, as brave to see
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[as] any Spaniard then.
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She crav'd the King, that every man
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that wore long locks of Haire,
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Might then be cut and Polled all,
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or shaven very neare:
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Whereat the King did seeme content,
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and soone thereto agreed,
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And first, commanded that his own
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should then be cut with speed.
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And after that to please his Queen,
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proclaimed through the Land,
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That every man that wore long Haire
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should Poll him out of hand:
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But yet this Spaniard not content,
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to women bore a spight:
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And then requested of the King,
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against all Law and right,
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That every woman-kind should have
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her right breast cut away,
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And then with burning Iron sear'd,
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the blood to stanch and stay:
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King Edward then perceiving well,
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her spight to womenkind,
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Devised soon by policie
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to turne her bloody mind.
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He sent for burning Irons straight,
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all sparkling hot to see,
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And said O Queen come on thy way,
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I will begin with thee:
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Which words did much displease the Queen,
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that penance to begin,
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But askt him pardon on her knees,
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who gave her grace therein.
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BUt afterwards there chanc'd to passe
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along brave London streets,
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Whereas the Maior of Londons wife
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in stately sort she meets,
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With musick, mirth, and melodie,
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unto the Church that went,
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To give God thanks, that to the Lord Maior
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a noble Sonne had sent.
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It grieved much this spightfull Queen,
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to see that anyone
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Should so exceed in mirth and joy,
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except herselfe alone:
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For which she after did devise,
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within her bloodie mind,
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And practis'd still most secretly
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to kill that Lady kind.
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Unto the Maior of London then,
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she sent her Letters straight,
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To send his Lady to the Court,
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upon her grace to wait;
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But when the London Lady came
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before proud Eleanors face,
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She stript her from her rich array,
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and kept her vile and base.
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She sent her into Wales with speed,
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and kept her secret there,
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And used her still most cruelly,
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then ever man did heare:
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She made her wash, she made her starch,
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she made her drudge alway;
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She made her nurse up children small,
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and labour night and day.
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But this contented not the Queen,
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but shew'd her more despight,
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She bound this Lady to a Post
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at twelve a clock at night:
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And as poore Lady she stood bound,
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the Queen in angry mood,
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Did set two Snakes unto her breast,
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that suckt away her blood[.]
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Thu[s] dy'd the Ma[i]or of Lon[do]ns w[ife]
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most grievous for to heare,
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Which made the Spaniard grow more proud,
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as after shall appeare:
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The Wheat that daily made her bread,
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was bolted twentie times,
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The food that fed this stately Dame,
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was boyl'd in costly wines.
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The water that did spring from ground
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she would not touch at all,
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But washt her hands with dew of heaven
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that on sweet Roses fall;
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She bath'd her body many a time
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in Foutaines fill'd with Milke,
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And every day did change attire,
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in costly Median Silke.
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But comming then to London back,
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within her Coach of Gold,
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A tempest strange within the skies,
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this Queen did there behold;
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Out of which storme she could not goe,
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but there remain'd a space,
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Foure Horses could not stirre her Coach
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a foot out of that place.
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A judgement lately sent from Heaven,
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for shedding guiltlesse blood,
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Upon this sinfull Queen that slew
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the London Lady good:
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King Edward then (as wisedome will'd)
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accus'd her of that deed:
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But she denyed, and wisht that God
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would send his wrath with speed.
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If that upon so vile a thing
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her heart did ever thinke,
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She wisht the ground might open wide,
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and therein she might sinke:
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With that at Charing-Crosse she sunk
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into the ground alive,
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And after rose with life againe
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in London, at Queen-Hith.
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When after that she languisht sore,
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full twentie dayes in paine;
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At last confest the Ladies blood,
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her guiltie hands had slaine:
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And likewise how that by a Fryer
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she had a base-borne child,
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Whose sinfull Lust and Wickednesse,
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her marriage bed defil'd
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Thus you have heard the fall Pride,
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a just reward of sin,
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For those that will forsweare themselves,
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Gods vengeance daily win:
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Beware of Pride ye London Dames,
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both Wives and Maidens all,
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Beare this imprinted in your min[ds,]
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that Pride must have a fall.
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