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A Crovvne-Garland of Govlden Roses

Gathered out of Englands royall garden. Being the liues and strange fortunes of many great personages of this Land. Set forth in many pleasant new songs and sonetts neuer before imprinted. By Richard Iohnson

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The complaint of faire Isabell for the losse of her honor, at the end whereof shee slew her selfe.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The complaint of faire Isabell for the losse of her honor, at the end whereof shee slew her selfe.

[_]

To the same tune.

Lord Wigmoore thus I haue defild,
And spotted my pure Uirgins bed:


Behold I am conceau'd with childe,
To which vile folly you me led.
For now this deed that I haue wrought,
Throughout this country well is knowne,
And to my wofull parents brought,
Whom now for me do make great mone.
How shall I looke them in the face,
When they my shamelesse selfe shall see:
Oh cursed Eue I feele thy case,
When thou hadst tasted on the tree.
Thou hidst thy selfe and so must I,
But God thy trespasse quickly found:
The darke may hide me from mans eye,
But leaue my shame still to abound.
Wide open are mine eyes to looke,
Vpon my seed and heauy sinne:
And quite vnclasped is the booke,
Where my accounts are written in.
This sinne of mine deserueth death,
Be Iudge Lord Wigmoore I am shee:
For I haue tread a strumpets path,
And for the same I needs must dye.


Bespotted with reproachfull shame,
To ages following shall I bee:
And in records be writ my blame,
Lord Wigmoore this is long of thee.
Lord Wigmoore prostrate at thy feete,
I craue my iust deserued doome:
That death may cut off from the roote,
This body, blossom, branch and bloome.
Let modesty accuse this crime,
Let loue, and law, and nature speake:
Was euer any wretch yet seene,
That in one instant all did breake.
Then Wigmoore Iustice on me shew,
That thus consented to this act:
Giue me my death, for death is due,
To such as sinnes in such a fact.
Oh that the wombe had beene my graue,
Or I had perisht in my birth:
Or that same day may darknesse haue,
Wherein I first drew vitall breath.


Let God regard it not at all,
Let not the sunne vpon it shine:
Let misty darknesse on it fall,
For to make knowne this sinne of mine.
The night wherein I was conceau'd,
Let be accurst with mournefull cryes:
Let twinckling starres from skyes bereau'd,
And clowds of darkenesse thereon rise.
Because they shot not vp the powers,
That gaue the passage to my life:
Come sorrow finish vp mine howers,
And let my time here end in griefe.
And hauing made this wofull moane,
A knife she snatched from her side.
Where Lucresse part was rightly showne.
For with the same fayre Isabell dyed.
Hereat Lord Wigmoore greeued sore,
In heart repenting his amisse:
And after would attempt no more,
To crop the flowers of Maidens blisse.
But liued long in wofull wise,


Till death did finish vp his dayes:
And now in Isabels graue he lyes,
Till iudgment comes them both to raise.