Mr. Collier remarks that this ballad is without date, but was undoubtedly written late in the sixteenth, or early in the seventeenth, century.
In searching ancient chronicles, It was my chance to finde A story worth the writing out, In my conceit and mind. It is an admonition good 5 That children ought to have, With reverence for to thinke upon Their parents laid in grave.
In Thracia liv'd a gentleman, Of noble progeny, 10 Who rul'd his household with great fame, And true integrity. This gentleman did take to wife A neat and gallant dame, Whose outward shew and beauty bright 15 Did many hearts inflame.
The luster that came from her lookes, Her carriage and her grace, Like beauteous Cynthia did outshine Each lady in that place. 20 And being puffed up in pride, With ease and jollity, Her husband could not her content; She other men must try.
Lasciviously long time she liv'd, 25 Yet bore it cunningly; For she had those that watch'd so well, That he could nought espy. With bribes and gifts she so bewitch'd The hearts of some were neere, 30 That they conceal'd her wickednesse, And kept it from her deare.
Thus spending of her time away In extreme wantonesse, Her private friends, when she did please, 35 Unto her had accesse. But the all-seeing eye of heaven Such sinnes will not conceale, And by some meanes at last will he The truth of all reveale. 40
Upon a time sore sicke she fell, Yea to the very death, And her physician told her plaine She must resigne her breath. Divines did likewise visit her, 45 And holy counsell gave, And bade her call upon the Lord, That he her soule might save.
Amongst the rest, she did desire They would her husband bring; 50 "I have a secret to reveale," She said, "my heart doth sting." Then he came posting presently Unto her where she lay, And weeping then he did desire, 55 What she to him would say.
She did intreat that all might voyd The roome, and he would stay; "Your pardon, husband, I beseech," Unto him she did say: 60 "For I have wrong'd your marriage-bed, And plaid the wanton wife; To you the truth I will reveale, Ere I depart this life.
"Foure hopefull sonnes you think you have; 65 To me it best is knowne, And three of them are none of yours; Of foure but one's your owne, And by your selfe on me begot, Which hath a wanton beene; 70 These dying teares forgivenesse beg; Let mercy then be seene."