Unto the mayor of London then
She sent her letters straight,
To send his lady to the court,
Upon her grace to wait.
But when the London lady came85
Before proud El'nor's face,
She stript her from her rich array,
And kept her vile and base.
She sent her into Wales with speed,
And kept her secret there,90
And us'd her still more cruelly
Than ever man did hear.
She made her wash, she made her starch,
She made her drudge alway;
She made her nurse up children small,95
And labour night and day.
But this contented not the queen,
But shew'd her most despite;
She bound this lady to a post,
At twelve a clock at night;100
And as, poor lady, she stood bound,
The queen, in angry mood,
Bid set two snakes unto her breast,
That suck'd away her blood.
Thus died the mayor of London's wife,105
Most grievous for to hear;
Which made the Spaniard grow more proud,
As after shall appear.
The wheat that daily made her bread
Was bolted twenty times;110
The food that fed this stately dame,
Was boil'd in costly wines.
The water that did spring from ground,
She would not touch at all;
But wash'd her hands with the dew of heav'n,115
That on sweet roses fall.
She bath'd her body many a time
In fountains fill'd with milk;
And ev'ry day did change attire,
In costly Median silk.120
But coming then to London back,
Within her coach of gold,
A tempest strange within the skies
This queen did there behold:
Out of which storm she could not go,125
But there remain'd a space;
Four horses could not stir the coach
A foot out of the place.
A judgment lately sent from heav'n,
For shedding guiltless blood,130
Upon this sinful queen, that slew
The London lady good!
King Edward then, as wisdom will'd,
Accus'd her of that deed;
But she denied, and wish'd that God135
Would send his wrath with speed,—
If that upon so vile a thing
Her heart did ever think,
She wish'd the ground might open wide,
And she therein might sink!140
With that, at Charing-cross she sunk
Into the ground alive,
And after rose with life again,
In London, at Queenhithe.