%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Bloody News from CHELMSFORD: / OR, A Proper New / BALLAD, / CONTAINING / A true and perfect Relation of a most barbarous Murder com- / mitted upon the Body of a Country Curate, who died of a great Wound given him in the bottom of his Belly, by / a most Cruel Country-fellow, for being too familiar with his Wife. 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 07/12/2021 37592

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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

R19728 1 Chevy Chase Chevy Chase Chevy Chase GIve o'er, ye rhiming Cavaliers, / That jeer'd at every turn; British Library - Bagford Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 60 Bloody News from CHELMSFORD: / OR, A Proper New / BALLAD, / CONTAINING / A true and perfect Relation of a most barbarous Murder com- / mitted upon the Body of a Country Curate, who died of a great Wound given him in the bottom of his Belly, by / a most Cruel Country-fellow, for being too familiar with his Wife. 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 Curate, who died of a great Wound given him in the bottom of his Belly, by a most Cruel Country fellow, for being too familiar with his Wife. ?-?

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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 7/12/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/12/2021 10:02:08 AM XBallad Henderson, Olivia Created XML Version of Ballad 7/12/2021 10:02:08 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/12/2021 10:02:08 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/12/2021 10:02:08 AM Transcriptionist Two Al halabieh, Deena Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/12/2021 10:02:08 AM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/27/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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GIve o'er, ye rhiming Cavaliers, That jeer'd at every turn; And sung how Jane towards Elders Cur In flames of love did burn. You too that writ how Peters Hugh, Was Butchers Cuckold-maker; Or penn'd the Courtship past between She-Filly, and the Quaker. But come Droll-rampant Hudibras, Laureat of Garden-Paris, Bring me the great Bruino's spoils, (That Champion that so rare is.) For I would do as Nero fell With Primitive Christians did; I'd make't a Cassock for my Priest, And bait him in a Bear's hide. In Essex (which like Affrick still Some Monster is a yeilding, Where once was bred a Roundheaded Colt, And now a Cavalier Gelding.) Neer Chelmsford Town a certain grave Conforming Parson dwelt, Chast from the Navil to the Teeth; Yet this good man was Gelt. Dull Laymen 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, But slash't him like to Traitor, new Cut down, and laid on Hurdle. Now you that would the story know, That nothing may escape us, Hark how poor Levite came to dy A Martyr to Priapus. There liv'd a crafty boorish wight Neer Palace Sicerdotal, 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 cant's 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 ey 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 your Woman purer Text To handle then an Homily? Sure 'twould be fruitful truth to teach Her, duties of a Family. Thus having thought, in haste he read To people printed lurry; Yet, that he could not say't by heart, For her sake her was sorry. For now at spawling intervals His eye did onely taste her, But race was run with greater speed Then Nun saies Pater Noster. The Swain her Husband all this time Watch't whilst the Parson Pray'd; He mark't his leers when finger was At end of Sentence laid. Observ'd those Arrows shot from sight At his fair But were level'd, But swore the Priest had better bin In mothers womb be divel'd. Psalm sung, As from Cornelius Tub, The Parson came down, recking; 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 Siraw, Breeches of clay, And fundament of Grass. In Age of Gold, as Poet tells, (Who seldome see such day) This was the place where Vertue slept Upon a lock of Hay. The Dame, right busy at her work, Sweet butter was a churning; When at the motion of the stick Priest's bowels fell a yeirning. Fair Nymph (said he) incontinent, Lay by the Typical Churn; (And then the Varlet turn'd aside To steal a lecherous giern.) Phy (Angel blest) why should that hand A wooden Instrument hold, Design'd to wield a better thing Then Scepter made with Gold? Excellent Creature! be as kinde As fair. An heart obdurate, "Is Satan's Anvil, where he knocks: Shall he knock, and not Curate?
O Woman, put the Dev'l behinde, But put the Priest before: Full many a She for Cloke-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' streets, 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 Bumpkin blunders in: Unseasonable Guest! Welcome as stones in Oats to Horse, Or Skull at Egypt-Feast. O Caitiff vile, said Country-man; And catcht him by the throat: I'll wreck my malice on thy blood, Thou curst Canonical-Goat. "Make me a Cuckold, Reading Rogue! Pulpit serve but Susans? Susans Smock your Surplice be? take away that Nusance. "Good husband, (quoth the panting wife) Proceed 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 Pesant held his Gouty First Hard on his Enemies Neck. As Tunes, when Fingers taken off, From Flajolet do come; So issu'd words from Curates mouth, When Lout remov'd his Thumb. Sir! I confess that I have wrong'd and your loving Wife. Confess and hang, cry'd surly Boor; (And strait he drew his Knife.) The glitt'ring Blade, as keen as that Which Felton bought near Tow'r, Made Susans 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'll seize those arms where-with Thou hast subdu'd my Wife. Though Theologu wept, and 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, Fantaiqu Slaves stubb'd root and branch, Nay, Underwoods, and all. Sir, (said Swain) if e'er you chance to be Pope, "There will not need a sacred Chair Holiness to grope. "Go, go, live chaste, as Clergy should, taken by your betters) "But come not near to London-town, there live Capon-eaters. But lo! while Scoundrel 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 blood 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 hoopt about, Roll'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.