%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The first part of the faire widow of Watling street & her 3 daughters, & how her wicked sonne / accused her to be a harlot, & his sisters bastards, only to deceiue them of their portions. 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 06/23/2021 37114

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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

S102127 1 Bragandary [unknown] Bragandary OF the kind Widdow of Watling street / I will the story tell: Great misery, sorrow and misery, / Commeth for want of grace. Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 56 The first part of the faire widow of Watling street & her 3 daughters, & how her wicked sonne / accused her to be a harlot, & his sisters bastards, only to deceiue them of their portions. The first part of the fair widow of Watling street and her three daughters, and how her wicked son accused her to be a harlot, and his sisters bastards, only to deceive them of their portions. ?-? T.P.

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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 6/23/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/23/2021 4:43:29 PM XBallad Chen, Chelsea Created XML Version of Ballad 6/23/2021 4:43:29 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/23/2021 4:43:29 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/23/2021 4:43:29 PM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/23/2021 4:43:29 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/22/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 4/22/2019 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/22/2019 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
The first part of the faire widow of Watling street & her 3. daughters, & how her wicked sonne accused her to be a harlot, & his sisters bastards, only to deceive them of their portions. To the tune of Bragandary.
OF the kind Widdow of Watling street I will the story tell: Who by her husband deere was left, in substance rich and well. A prodigall sonne, likewise had she, And faire yong daughters lovely three. Great misery, sorrow and misery, Commeth for want of grace. For by his dayly practises, which were both lewd and ill: His Fathers hart from him was drawne, his love and his goodwill. But yet what chance so ere befell, His mother loved him deerely well. When he in prison lay full poore, for debt which he did owe: His Father would not stur out of doore, for to release his woe. But when his mother his griefe did see, She found the meanes to set him free: And when her husband fell full sick, and went to make his will: O husband remember your sonne she said, although he hath beene ill: But yet no doubt he may returne, Repenting the evill that he hath done. Remember wife, what sorrow and care, through him I dayly found: Who through his lewd ungratious deeds, hath spent me many a pound. And therefore let him sinke or swim, I meane not for to deale with him. And therefore sole Executor here, I do thee onely make: To pay the debts and Legacies, the rest unto thee take. Not so my husband deare quoth she, But let your sonne be joynd with me. For why, he is our child she said, we can it not deny, The first that ever graced you, with fathers dignity. O if that ever you did me love, graunt this request for his behove. Thy love deere wife was evermore, most precious unto me: And therefore for thy sweet loves sake, I graunt thy sune to thee. But ere the yeare is fully spent, I know thou wilt the same repent. Now was his sonne received home, and with his Mother deere: Was joyn'd Executor of the Will, which did his courage cheare. The old man dying, buryed was, But now behold what came to passe. the funeral being ended quite, it fel upon a day Some friends did fetch the widdow foorth, to drive conceits away. While she was forth, and thought no ill, Her wicked sonne doth worke his will. possession of the house he took in most despitful wise Throwing his sisters out of dores: with sad lamenting cryes, When this they did his mother show, She would not beleeve he would do so.
But when she came unto her house, and found it true indeed. she cald unto her son & said, althogh her hart did bleed Come down my sonne, come downe quod she, Let in thy mother and sisters three. I will not let in my Mother he said, nor sisters any one: The house is mine, I will it keepe, therefore away be gone, O sonne canst thou indure to see't, Thy Mother and sisters to lie in the streete. Did not thy Father by his will, for terme of this my life, give me this house for to enjoy, without al fur-ther strife, And more, of all his goods quoth she, I am Executor joynd with thee. My father left you the house he said, but this was his intent: That you therefore, during your life, should pay me yearely rent. A hundred pound a yeare therefore, You shall me give, or give it ore. And sith the Citties custome is, that you the thirds must have: Of all my fathers moveables, I graunt what Law doth crave, But not a peny more will I, Discharge of any Legasie, O wicked sonne (quoth she) that seekes, thy mother thus to fleece, Thy Father to his daughters gave, three hundred pound apeece. Tell me who shall their porcions pay, Appointed at their Marriage day. Then with a scornefull smile he said, what talke you of so much, Ten pound apeece I will them give, my charitie is such. Now fie upon thee beast quoth she, That thus doth deale with them and me. But ere that they and I will take, this injury at thy hand, The chiefest peeres of England shall, the matter understand. Nay if you go to that, quoth he, Marke well what I shall tell to thee. Thou hast a secret Harlot bin, and this ile prove full plaine, That in my fatheres lifetime did, lewd Ruffians entertaine: The which did then beget of thee, In wicked sort these bastards three. No daughters to my father then, were they in any wise, As he supposd them for to be, thou blinding so his eyes, Therefore no right at all have they, to any peny given this day. When she did heare her shameles sonne, for to defame her so, She with her lovely daughters three, with griefe away did goe, But how this matter forth did fall, the second part shall shew you all. Great misery, sorow, etc.
Finis. Imprinted at London for T.P.