%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Bloody News from CHELMSFORD: / OR, A Proper New / BALLAD, / CONTAINING / A true and perfect Relation of a most barbarous Murther committed upon the Body of a / Country Parson, who died of a great Wound given him in the Bottom of his Belly, by a wost Cruel Country-Butcher / for being too familiar with his Wife: For which Fact he is to be Tried for his Life at this next Assizes. 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 06/27/2021 36532

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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

R220392 1 Chevy-Chase Chevy Chase Chevy Chase GIve o'er, ye rhiming ranting Lads, / that jeer'd at every turn; British Library - Luttrell Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 145 Bloody News from CHELMSFORD: / OR, A Proper New / BALLAD, / CONTAINING / A true and perfect Relation of a most barbarous Murther committed upon the Body of a / Country Parson, who died of a great Wound given him in the Bottom of his Belly, by a wost Cruel Country-Butcher / for being too familiar with his Wife: For which Fact he is to be Tried for his Life at this next Assizes. Bloody News from CHELMSFORD: OR, A Proper New BALLAD, CONTAINING A true and perfect Relation of a most barbarous Murder committed upon the Body of a Country Parson, who died of a great Wound given him in the Bottom of his Belly, by a most Cruel Country Butcher for being too familiar with his Wife: For which Fact he is to be Tried for his Life at this next Assizes. ?-?

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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 6/27/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/27/2021 1:24:48 PM XBallad Chen, Chelsea Created XML Version of Ballad 6/27/2021 1:24:48 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2021 1:24:48 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2021 1:24:48 PM Transcriptionist Two McAlpin-Levitt, Celeste Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2021 1:24:48 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/21/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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GIve o'er, ye rhiming ranting Lads, that jeer'd at every turn; [An]d sung how Jane towards Elders Cur [i]n flames of love did burn. [Yo]u too, that writ how Peters Hugh was Butchers Cuckold-maker: [Or] penn'd the Courtship past between She-filly and the Quaker. [Bu]t come Droll-rampant Hudibras, Laureat of Garden-Paris, [Br]ing me the great Bruinos spoils, (that Champion that so rare is.) [F]or I would do as Nero fell with primitive Christians did: [I']d make't a Cassock for my Priest, and bait him in Bears hide. [I]n Essex (which like Affrick still some Monster is a yielding, Where once was bred a Roundheaded colt, and now a Rampant Gelding) Near Chelmsford Town a certain grave conforming-Parson dwelt, Chast from the Navil to the Teeth: Yet this good-man was gelt. Dull Lay-men have small reverence for any man of worth; A churlish Whorson did the feat: Sad Hint for Holder-forth! He dreaded not his Ghostly face, nor circle of his Girdle: [B]ut flasht him like to Traitor, new cut down, and laid on hurdle, Now you that would the story know, that nothing may escape us, [H]ark how poor Levite came to die a Martyr to Priapus. There liv'd a crafty Butcher wight near Palace Sacerdotal, Whose Spouse most amiable was, the sum of Beauty total. Lovelier then she for whom Jove turn'd himself to milk-white Bull a: Fair Rosamond was not so bright, nor half so comely Trulla. Sweeter then smiles of Infant-day, (as Servant cants to Mistress) Ah! 'twas the Sorcery of that face led Teacher into distress. He spy'd her first from Pulpit high, in pause, the first Pray'r after, When zeal had turn'd up white of eye To stare on Churches rafter.
(Quoth he to self) why stand I here (giving the Glass a jolt) To utter Sermon by retail, which might be done by dolt? Is not yon Woman purer Text to handle then an Homily? Sure 'twould be fruitfull truth to teach her, duties of a Family. Thus having thought, in haste he read to people printed lurri: Yet, that he could not say't by heart, for her sake he was sorry. For now at spawling intervals his eye did onely taste her: But race was run with greater speed then Nun sayes Pater Nostee. The Swain her Husband all this while watch'd whilest the Parson pray'd; He mark'd his leers when finger was at end of Sentence laid. Observ'd those arrows shot from sight at his fair Butt were levell'd: But swore the Priest had better been In mothers womb be-divell'd. Psalm sung, As from Cornelius Tub, the Parson came came down, reeking: And till he found that Hobnails house, vow'd never to lin seeking. At last he came to humble Cot Shrine, where his Goddess was Doublet of Straw, Breeches of Clay, and Fundament of Grass. In age of Gold, as Poets tell, (who seldome see such day) This was the place where Virtue slept upon a lock of Hay. The Dame, right busie at her work, sweet-Butter was a churning; When at the motion of the stick Priests bowels fell a yerning. Fair Nymph (said he) incontinent, lay by the Typical Churn: (And then the Varlet turn'd aside to steal a lecherous giern.) Fie (Angel blest) why should that hand a wooden Instrument hold, Design'd to hold a better thing then Scepter made with Gold? Excellent Creature! be as kind as fair. An heart obdurate "Is Satan's Anvil, where he knocks? Shall he knock, and not Curate?
O woman, put the Devil behind, But put the Priest before: Full many a She for Cloak-divine, Hath done as much, or more. When I commenced Batchelor, All Cambridge did adore me: Why should a thing of feeble Sex Think much to fall before me? "This said; Nay, Pish, the good Wife cry'd: Nay, stand away for shame: "Are you a Minister, and care no more for a good Name? Good Name (quoth he) with that She smil'd and so they snugg'd together: But he had better slept i'th' street, then in her Bed of Feather: For just about that fatal hour when Dev'l came for Doctor Faustus; as Key of Lead had him, and in a dead sleep lockt her. The jealous Butcher blunders in: unseasonable Guest! Welcome as stones in Oats to Horse, or Skull at Egypt-Feast. O Caitiff vile, said Butcher then; and catcht him by the throat: I'll wreck my malice on thy blood, thou cursed lecherous Goat. Make me a Cuckold, Reading Rogue? Pulpit serve but Susan's? Must Susans Smock your Surplice be? take away that Nusance. 'Good Husband, (quoth the panting wife) in wrath no further, 'Lest you be turn'd out Churches pale, one committing murder. Sir, gentle Sir, the Priest reply'd, as well as he could speak; For Butcher held his Gouty fist hard on his Enemies Neck. As Tunes, when Finger taken off, from Flajolets do come; So issu'd words from Curate's mouth, when Lout remov'd his Thumb. Sir! I confess that I have wrong'd and your loving Wife. Confess and hang, cry'd surely Boor; (and strait he drew his Knife.) The glitt'ring Blade, as keen as that which Felton bought near Tow'r, Made Susan's heart go Pit-a-pat, and Lovers face look sow'r.
Hold honest Friend, Sir Roger cry'd; what? wilt thou take my life? No: but i'l seize those arms wherewith thou hast subdu'd my Wife. Though Theologu wept, & Wife did beg, Churl slighted words and tears; And at one gash from Curate took Musquet and Bandaliers. Thus RUMP in Forest not content to fell down Timber tall, Fanatiqu Slaves stub'd root and branch, nay, Underwoods, and all. Now, Sir, (said Swain) if ere you chance to be Pope, 'There will not need a sacred Chair Holiness to grope. 'Go, go, live chast, as Clergy should, taken by your betters) 'But come not near to London-town, there live Capon-eaters. But lo! while Scundrel thus did taunt the man of holy function, Wife well perceiv'd that body spent had need of extream Unction. Then did she wring her sweating Palms, and loudly did complain: But sighs and groans, and bellows-snout, to dying Bums are vain. The flood continually ran from place as bare as Common; Yet, even then, good Curate cast a dying glaunce at Woman. 'Farewel, said he: bid Parsons all of Bevers fate: 'For when they shall be serv'd like me, dumps will be too late. This said, -- the Curates mortal Cask, with Ribband hopt about, Rol'd down the Hill, and slipp'ry life for want of Tap ran out.
The EPITAPH. COurteous Reader! underneath These Spires of fading Grass Lies Curate, who (if Wives may judge) an able preacher was. We hope his Soul in Heav'n is safe, (though some scarce think so can:) For though he sometimes liv'd upright, He di'd no perfect Man. FINIS. OXFORD, Printed in the Year, MDCLXIII.