The brides buriall To the tune of the Ladies fall. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A16827 of text S117357 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 3728). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A16827 STC 3728 ESTC S117357 99852571 99852571 17897 2248540365

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A16827) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 17897) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1228:07) The brides buriall To the tune of the Ladies fall. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. Printed for H. Gosson, London : [ca. 1635] Publication date estimated by STC. Verse - "Come mourn, come mourn with me". Identified as STC 3728a on UMI microfilm. Reproductions of the original in the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. eebo The brides buriall. To the tune of the Ladies fall. [no entry] 1635 1 869 7 0 0 0 0 0 80.55 D The rate of 80.55 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2002-03 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-04 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-05 Sampled and proofread 2002-05 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-06 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
The Brides Buriall . To the tune of the Ladies Fall .
COme mourn , come mourn with me you loyall lovers all , Lament my losse in wéedes of woe , whom griping griefe doth thrall , Like to the dropping vine , cut downe by gardners knife , Even so my heart with sorrow slaine , doth bleed for my swéet wife . By Death ( that grisly Ghost ) my turtle Dove is slaine : And I am lost unhappy man , to spend my daies in paine : Her beauty late so bright , like Roses in their prime , Is wasted like the mountaines snow , by force of Phoebus shine . Her faire red coloured lips , now pale and wan , her eyes That late did shine like christall stars , alas her light it dies : Her pretty lilly hands , with fingers long and small , In colour lie like earthly clay , yea cold and stiffe withall . When as the morning gray , her golden gate had spred , And that the glistring sunne arose , forth from faire Th●tis bed : Then did my loue awake , most like a lilly flower , And as the louely Quéene of heauen , so shin'd she in her bower . Attired she was then , like 〈◊〉 in her pride , As faire as braue Dianaes Nimphs , so lookt my louely Bride , And as faire Hellens face , gaue Grecian Dames the lurch , So did my deare excéed in sight , all Uirgins in the Church . When we had knit the knot , of holy wedloc●s band : Like Alablaster ioyn●d to iett , so stood we hand in hand : Then loe a chilling cold , struk every vitall part ; And griping griefe like pangs of death , seaz'd on my true Loves heart . Downe in a sound she fell , as cold as any stone : Like Venus picture lacking life , so was my Love brought home , At length arose a red , throughout her comely face , As Phoebus beames with watry clouds ore covered her face . Then with a grievous groane , and voyce most hoarse and dry , Farewell quoth shée my loving friends for I this day must die . The messenger of God , with golden Trumpe I sée : With many other Angels more , doth sound and call for me . In stead of musicke sweet , goe toll my passing bell : And with these flowers strow my grave that in my chamber smell : Strip off my Brides array , my Corke-shooes from my feet , And gentle mother be not coy , to bring my winding sheet . My Wedding dinner drest , bestow upon the poore : And on the hungry needy maind , that craveth at the doore . In stead of Uirgins young , my Bride-bed for to sée , Goe cause some cunning Carpente to make a chest for mee . My Bride laces of silke , bestow'd on maidens meete , May fitly serve when I am dead , to tie my hands and feete : And thou my Lover true , my husband and my friend , Let me intreate thee here to stay , untill my life doth end . Now leave to talke of love , and humbly on your knee : Direct your prayer unto God , but mourne no more for me . In love as we have lived , in love let us depart : And I in token of my love , doe kisse thée with my heart . O stench thy bootlesse teares , thy wéeping is in vaine : I am not lost , for we in heaven , shall one day meet againe . With that she turn'd her head , as one disposd to sleepe , And like a Lambe depart●d life : while friends full sore did weepe . Her true Love séeing this , did fetch a grievous groane , As though his heart did burst in two , and thus he made his moane : O dismall heavy day , a day of griefe and care , That hath bereft the Sun so high . whose beames refresht the ayre . Now woe unto the world , and all that therein dwell , O that I were with her in heaven , for here I live in hell : And now this Lover lives , a discontented life : Whose Bride was brought unto the gra●● a Maiden and a Wife . A garland fresh and faire , of Lillies there was made , In signe of her Uirginity , and on her Coffin laid : Sixe maidens all in white , did beare her to the ground , The Bells did ring in solemne sort , and made a solemne sound . In earth they laid her then , for hungry wormes a prey : So shall the fairest face alive , at length be brought to clay . FINIS :

London Printed for H. G●sson .