The Merchant's Daughter of
Bristow [Bristol].
The Second Part.
WElcome, sweet Maudlin, from the sea! Where bitter storms and cruel tempests did arise: The pleasant banks of Italy, We may behold with joyful eyes."
"Thanks, gentle Master," then quoth she, "A faithful friend in all my sorrows thou hast been. If fortune once doth smile on me, My thankful heart shall well be seen!
"Blest be the land that feeds my Love! Blest be that place whereas he doth abide! No travail will I stick to prove, Whereby my goodwill may be tried.
"Now will I walk with joyful heart To view the town whereas my darling doth remain; And seek him out in every part, Until I do his sight attain."
"And I," quoth he, "will not forsake Sweet M. in all her journeys up and down; In wealth and woe thy part I'll take, And bring thee safe to Padua town."
And, after many weary steps, In Padua they safe arrived at the last. For very joy, her heart it leaps: She thinks not on her perils past.
But now, alas, behold the luck! Her own True Love in woeful prison doth she find: Which did her heart in pieces pluck, And grieved her gentle mind.
Condemned he was to die, alas, Except he would his faith and his religion turn: But rather than he would go to Mass, In fiery flames he vowed to burn.
How doth fair Maudlin weep and wail: Her joy is changed to weeping, sorrow, grief, and care. But nothing can her plaints prevail, For death alone must be his share.
She walks under the prison walls, Where her True Love doth lie and languish in distress. Most woefully for food he calls, When hunger did his heart oppress.
He sighs, and sobs, and makes great moan. "Farewell," said he, "sweet England now for ever! And all my friends that have me known In Bristow town with wealth and store!
"But most of all, farewell," quoth he, "My own True Love, sweet M! whom I left behind: For never more I shall thee see! Woe to thy father most unkind!
"How well were I, if thou wast here, With thy fair hands to close up both these wretched eyes! My torments easy would appear: My soul with joy should scale the skies."
When M. heard her Lover's moan; Her eyes with tears, her heart with sorrow filled was. To speak with him no means was known, Such grievous doom on him did pass.
Then cast she off her lad's attire; A Maiden's weed upon her back she seemly set: To the Judge's house she did enquire, And there she did a service get.
She did her duty there so well, And eke so prudently herself she did behave; With her in love her Master fell. His servant's favour he doth crave.
"Maudlin," quoth he, "my heart's delight! To whom my heart in firm affection's tied, Breed not my death through thy despite! A faithful friend I will be tried.
"Grant me thy love, fair Maid!" quoth he, "And at my hands desire what thou canst devise, And I will grant it unto thee, Whereby thy credit may arise."
"O Sir," she said, "how blest am I, With such a kind and gentle Master for to meet; I will not your request deny, So you will grant what I do seek."
"I have a brother, Sir," she said, "For his religion is now condemned to die. In loathsome prison he is laid, Oppressed with care and misery.
"Grant me my brother's life!" she said, "And to you my love and liking I will give!" "That may not be," quoth he, "fair Maid! Except he turn, he may not live!"
"An English Friar there is," she said, Of learning great, and of a passing pure life: Let him be to my brother sent, And he will finish soon the strife."
Her Master granted this request. The Mariner in Friar's weeds she doth array: And to her Love that lay distresst, She doth a letter straightway convey.
When he had read her gentle lines, His heavy heart was ravished with inward joy: Where now she was, full well he finds. The Friar likewise was not coy;
But did declare to him at large The enterprise his Love for him had taken in hand. The young Man did the Friar charge His Love should straight depart the land.
"Here is no place for her," he said, "But woeful death and danger of her harmless life. Professing truth, I was betrayed; And fearful flames must end our strife.
"For ere I will my faith deny, And swear myself to follow damnèd Antichrist: I'll yield my body for to die, To live in heaven with the Highest."
"O Sir," the gentle Friar said, "For your sweet Love, recant and save your wishèd life!" "A woeful match," quoth he, "is made, Where Christ is lost to win a Wife."
When she had wrought all means she might To save her Friend, and that she saw it would not be: Then of the Judge, she claimed her right To die the death as well as he.
"For, look, what faith he doth profess; In that same faith, be sure that I will live and die! Then ease us both in our distress, Let us not live in misery!"
When no persuasion would prevail, Nor change her mind in anything that she had said: She was with him condemned to die, And for them both one fire made.
And arm in arm, most joyfully, These Lovers twain unto the fire then did go. The mariners, most faithfully, Were likewise partners of their woe.
But when the Judges understood The faithful friendship in them all that did remain, They saved their lives; and afterward, To England sent them home again.
Now were their sorrows turned to joy, And faithful Lovers had now their hearts' desire. Their pains so well they did employ, GOD granted what they did require.
And when they were in England come, And to merry Bristow arrivèd at the last; Great joy there was of all and some, That heard the dangers they had past.
Her father, he was dead, GOD wot: And eke her mother was joyful of her sight; Their wishes she denièd not, But wedded them with heart's delight.
Her gentle Master she desired To be her Father, and at church to give her then. It was fulfilled, as she required, Unto the joy of all good men.
FINIS.
Printed at London for William Blackwall
[about 1600].
