Chapter XV: Part THE SECOND (4)

[The tale of Jane Shore's sufferings has found frequent narrators.
The first known ballad upon her story was written by Thomas
Churchyard (who died in 1604) and is included in the _Mirror for_
_Magistrates_. The ballad here printed is attributed to Thomas
Deloney, and was entered on the books of the Stationers' Company
to William White, printer, on the 11th of June, 1603, but no copy
of this edition is known to exist. Mr. Chappell remarks that no
copy in any of the collections can be dated "earlier than Charles
the Second's time, or at most than the Protectorate" (_Roxburghe
Ballads_, vol. i. p. 479). It is printed in the _Collection of
Old Ballads_, 1723 (vol. i. p. 145), and in the same collection
is a burlesque song called _King Edward and Jane Shore_ (vol. i.
p. 153). The Roxburghe copy has a second part which Mr. Chappell
says is "probably by another hand and of later date." Deloney has
paid very little attention to facts, and many of his statements are
groundless, for instance no one was hanged for succouring Jane (vv.
105-112), and instead of dying of hunger in a ditch (vv. 125-132),
she survived her penance nearly fifty years. (She died in the
18th year of Henry VIII.'s reign.) Her husband is named Matthew
Shore in verse 13, but we have the best authority for affirming
that his true name was William. Richard III. followed Jane Shore
with unrelenting hate, and not content with making her do penance,
clapping her in prison and depriving her of all her property, which
amounted to the value of 3000 marks, equal to about _£_20,000 of
our present money, he prevented her from marrying a respectable man.

There is no date to the paper printed above, but as John Russell,
D.D., Bishop of Lincoln, was Richard's Chancellor only from Nov.
1484 to July 1485, we can fix it pretty closely.

According to Mr. Nugent Bell, in his _Huntingdon Peerage_, the name
of the father of Jane Shore was Thomas Wainstead. Granger says
that the Duchess of Montagu had a lock of her hair which looked as
if it had been powdered with gold dust. For further information,
see _Some Particulars of the Life of Jane Shore_, by the Rev. Mark
Noble, in Brayley's _Graphic Illustrator_, pp. 49-64.]

* * * * *

Of Rosamonde that was so faire,
Had cause her sorrowes to declare,
Then let Jane Shore with sorrowe sing,
That was beloved of a king.

In maiden yeares my beautye bright 5
Was loved dear of lord and knight;
But yet the love that they requir'd,
It was not as my friends desir'd.

My parents they, for thirst of gaine,
A husband for me did obtaine; 10
And I, their pleasure to fulfille,
Was forc'd to wedd against my wille.

To Matthew Shore I was a wife,
Till lust brought ruine to my life;
And then my life I lewdlye spent, 15
Which makes my soul for to lament.

In Lombard-street I once did dwelle,
As London yet can witness welle;
Where many gallants did beholde
My beautye in a shop of golde. 20

I spred my plumes, as wantons doe,
Some sweet and secret friende to wooe,
Because chast love I did not finde
Agreeing to my wanton minde.

At last my name in court did ring 25
Into the eares of Englandes king,
Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd,
But I made coye what he desir'd;

Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour neare,
Whose friendship I esteemed deare, 30
Did saye, It was a gallant thing
To be beloved of a king.

By her persuasions I was led,
For to defile my marriage-bed,
And wronge my wedded husband Shore, 35
Whom I had married yeares before.

In heart and mind I did rejoyce,
That I had made so sweet a choice;
And therefore did my state resigne,
To be king Edward's concubine. 40

From city then to court I went,
To reape the pleasures of content;
There had the joyes that love could bring,
And knew the secrets of a king.

When I was thus advanc'd on highe 45
Commanding Edward with mine eye,
For Mrs. Blague I in short space
Obtainde a livinge from his grace.

No friende I had but in short time
I made unto a promotion climbe; 50
But yet for all this costlye pride,
My husbande could not mee abide.

His bed, though wronged by a king,
His heart with deadlye griefe did sting;
From England then he goes away 55
To end his life beyond the sea.

He could not live to see his name
Impaired by my wanton shame;
Although a prince of peerlesse might
Did reape the pleasure of his right. 60

Long time I lived in the courte,
With lords and ladies of great sorte;
And when I smil'd all men were glad,
But when I frown'd my prince grewe sad.

But yet a gentle minde I bore 65
To helplesse people, that were poore;
I still redrest the orphans crye,
And sav'd their lives condemnd to dye.

I still had ruth on widowes tears,
I succour'd babes of tender yeares; 70
And never look'd for other gaine
But love and thankes for all my paine.

At last my royall king did dye,
And then my dayes of woe grew nighe;
When crook-back Richard got the crowne, 75
King Edwards friends were soon put downe.

I then was punisht for my sin,
That I so long had lived in;
Yea, every one that was his friend,
This tyrant brought to shamefull end. 80

Then for my lewd and wanton life,
That made a strumpet of a wife,
I penance did in Lombard-street,
In shamefull manner in a sheet.

Where many thousands did me viewe, 85
Who late in court my credit knewe;
Which made the teares run down my face,
To thinke upon my foul disgrace.

Not thus content, they took from mee
My goodes, my livings, and my fee, 90
And charg'd that none should me relieve,
Nor any succour to me give.

Then unto Mrs. Blague I went,
To whom my jewels I had sent,
In hope therebye to ease my want, 95
When riches fail'd, and love grew scant:

But she denyed to me the same
When in my need for them I came:
To recompence my former love,
Out of her doores shee did me shove. 100

So love did vanish with my state,
Which now my soul repents too late;
Therefore example take by mee,
For friendship parts in povertie.

But yet one friend among the rest, 105
Whom I before had seen distrest,
And sav'd his life, condemn'd to die,
Did give me food to succour me:

For which, by lawe, it was decreed
That he was hanged for that deed; 110
His death did grieve me so much more,
Than had I dyed myself therefore.

Then those to whom I had done good,
Durst not afford me any food;
Whereby I begged all the day, 115
And still in streets by night I lay.

My gowns beset with pearl and gold,
Were turn'd to simple garments old;
My chains and gems and golden rings,
To filthy rags and loathsome things. 120

Thus was I scorn'd of maid and wife,
For leading such a wicked life;
Both sucking babes and children small,
Did make their pastime at my fall.

I could not get one bit of bread, 125
Whereby my hunger might be fed:
Nor drink, but such as channels yield,
Or stinking ditches in the field.

Thus, weary of my life, at lengthe
I yielded up my vital strength 130
Within a ditch of loathsome scent,
Where carrion dogs did much frequent:

The which now since my dying daye,
Is Shoreditch call'd, as writers saye[741];
Which is a witness of my sinne, 135
For being concubine to a king.

You wanton wives, that fall to lust,
Be you assur'd that God is just;
Whoredome shall not escape his hand,
Nor pride unpunish'd in this land. 140

If God to me such shame did bring,
That yielded only to a king,
How shall they scape that daily run
To practise sin with every one?

You husbands, match not but for love, 145
Lest some disliking after prove;
Women, be warn'd when you are wives,
What plagues are due to sinful lives:
Then, maids and wives, in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end. 150

FOOTNOTES:

[739] After the death of Hastings, she was kept by the marquis of Dorset, son to Edward IV.'s queen. In Rymer's _F[oe]dera_ is a proclamation of Richard's, dated at Leicester, Oct. 23, 1483, wherein a reward of 1000 marks in money, or 100 a year in land is offered for taking "Thomas late marquis of Dorset," who, "not having the fear of God, nor the salvation of his own soul, before his eyes, has damnably debauched and defiled many maids, widows, and wives, and _lived in actual adultery with the wife of Shore_." Buckingham was at that time in rebellion, but as Dorset was not with him, Richard could not accuse him of treason, and therefore made a handle of these pretended debaucheries to get him apprehended. Vide _Rym. F[oe]d._ tom. xij. pag. 204.

[The Rev. Mark Noble writes as follows of the charge made by
Richard of Dorset's living in adultery with Jane Shore.--"It could
not be before she was taken by Edward; it could not be during that
king's life; it could not be afterwards, by Richard's own account,
for by his proclamation she then was the mistress of Hastings to
the night preceding his being put to death. It could not be after
that catastrophe, for ever after then Richard kept her either in
the Tower or in Ludgate a close prisoner."--_Brayley's Graphic
and Historical Illustrator_, 1834, p. 55.]

[740] These words of Sir Thomas More probably suggested to Shakespeare that proverbial reflection in _Hen. VIII._ act iv. sc. 2.

"Men's evill manners live in brass: their virtues
We write in water."

Shakesp. in his play of _Rich. III._ follows More's _Hist._ of that reign, and therefore could not but see this passage.

[741] But it had this name long before; being so called from its being a common Sewer (vulgarly Shore) or drain. See Stow.

[Weever states that it was named from the Lord of the Manor. Sir John de Sordig was Ambassador from Edward III. to the Pope, to remonstrate with his Holiness on his claim to present foreigners to English livings.]

XXVII.

CORYDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL.

This little simple elegy is given, with some corrections, from two copies, one of which is in _The golden garland of princely delights_.

The burthen of the song, _Ding Dong_, &c. is at present appropriated to burlesque subjects, and therefore may excite only ludicrous ideas in a modern reader; but in the time of our poet it usually accompanied the most solemn and mournful strains. Of this kind is that fine aërial Dirge in Shakespear's _Tempest_:

"Full fadom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are corrall made;
Those are pearles that were his eyes;
Nothing of him, that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange:
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell,
Harke now I heare them, Ding dong bell."
"Burthen, Ding Dong."

I make no doubt but the poet intended to conclude the above air in a manner the most solemn and expressive of melancholy.

* * * * *

My Phillida, adieu love!
For evermore farewel!
Ay me! I've lost my true love,
And thus I ring her knell,
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, 5
My Phillida is dead!
I'll stick a branch of willow
At my fair Phillis' head.

For my fair Phillida
Our bridal bed was made: 10
But 'stead of silkes so gay,
She in her shroud is laid.
Ding, &c.

Her corpse shall be attended
By maides in fair array,
Till the obsequies are ended, 15
And she is wrapt in clay.
Ding, &c.

Her herse it shall be carried
By youths, that do excell;
And when that she is buried,
I thus will ring her knell, 20
Ding, &c.

A garland shall be framed
By art and natures skill,
Of sundry-colour'd flowers,
In token of good-will[742]:
Ding, &c.

And sundry-colour'd ribbands 25
On it I will bestow;
But chiefly black and yellowe[743]:
With her to grave shall go.
Ding, &c.

I'll decke her tomb with flowers,
The rarest ever seen, 30
And with my tears, as showers,
I'll keepe them fresh and green.
Ding, &c.

Instead of fairest colours,
Set forth with curious art[744],
Ding, &c.
Her image shall be painted 35
On my distressed heart.

And thereon shall be graven
Her epitaph so faire,
"Here lies the loveliest maiden,
That e'er gave shepheard care." 40
Ding, &c.

In sable will I mourne;
Blacke shall be all my weede;
Ay me! I am forlorne,
Now Phillida is dead!
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
My Phillida is dead! 46
I'll stick a branch of willow
At my fair Phillis' head

FOOTNOTES:

[742] It is a custom in many parts of England, to carry a flowery garland before the corpse of a woman who dies unmarried. [For further note on this custom, see _The Bride's Burial_, vol iii. Book II. No. 13.]

[743] See above, preface to No. XI. Book II.

[744] This alludes to the painted effigies of alabaster, anciently erected upon tombs and monuments.

THE END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.

SERIES THE SECOND.