Here's a version of Lady Isabella's Tragedy from Pills that I have immediately to hand.

Mick

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THE LADY ISABELLA'S TRAGEDY

THE LADY ISABELLA'S TRAGEDY: Or,
Step-Mother s Cruelty. To the foregoing
Tune.

THere was a Lord of worthy Fame,
And a Hunting he would ride,
Attended by a noble Train,
Of Gentry on each side.

And whilst he did in Chace remain,
To see both Sport and Play ;
His Lady went as she did feign,
Unto the Church to pray.

This Lord he had a Daughter Fair,
Whose Beauty shin'd so bright ;
She was belov'd both far and near,
Of many a Lord and Knight.

Fair Isabella was she call'd,
A Creature Fair was she ;
She was her Father's only Joy,
As you shall after see.

But yet her Cruel Step-Mother,
Did Envy her so much ;
That Day by Day she sought her Life,
Her Malice it was such.

She bargain'd with the Master-Cook,
To take her Life away ;
And taking of her Daughter's Book,
She thus to her did say.

Go home, sweet Daughter, I thee pray.
Go hasten presently ;
And tell unto the Master-Cook,
These Words which I tell thee.

And bid him dress to Dinner straight,
That fair and milk-white Doe ;
That in the Park doth shine so bright,.
There's none so fair to show.

This Lady fearing of no harm,
Obey'd her Mother's Will ;
And presently she hasted home,
Her Mind for to fulfil.

She straight into the Kitchin went,
Her Message for to tell,
And there the Master-Cook she spy'd,
Who did with Malice swell.

Now Master-Cook it must be so,
Do that which I thee tell ;
You needs must dress the milk-white Doe,
Which you do know full well.

Then straight his cruel bloody Hands,
He on the Lady laid ;
Who quivering and shaking stands,
While thus to her he said :

Thou art the Doe that I must dress,
See here, behold my Knife ;
For it is Pointed presently,
To rid thee of thy Life.

O then cry'd out the Scullion Boy,
As loud as loud might be ;
O save her Life, good Master-Cook,
And make your Pies of me ?

For pity sake do not destroy
My Lady with your Knife ;
You know she is her Father's Joy,
For Christ's sake save her Life.

I will not save her Life he said,
Nor make my Pies of thee ;
Yet if thou dost this Deed betray,
Thy Butcher I will be ;

Now when this Lord he did come home,
For to sit down to Meat ;
He called for his Daughter dear,
To come and carve his Meat.

Now sit you down, his Lady said,
O sit you down to Meat ;
Into some Nunnery she's gone,
Your Daughter dear forget.

Then solemnly he made a Vow,
Before the Company ;
That he would neither eat nor drink,
Until he did her see.

then bespoke the Scullion Boy,
With a loud Voice so high ;
If that you will your Daughter see
My Lord cut up the Pye.

Wherein her Flesh is minced small
And parched with the Fire ;
All caused by her Step-Mother,
Who did her Death desire.

And cursed be the Master-Cook,
O cursed may he be !
1 proffer'd him my own Heart's Blood,
From Death to set her free.

Then all in Black this Lord did Mourn,
And for his Daughter's sake ;
He judged for her Step-Mother,
To be burnt at a Stake.

Likewise he judg'd the Master-Cook,
In boyling Lead to stand ;
He made the simple Scullion Boy,
The Heir to all his Land.



Source: D'Urfey - Wit and Mirth or Pills To Purge Melancholy, 1959 reprint of 1876 reprint of 1719-1720, V, pp53-55


The foregoing tune was for Of King HENRY the $th ; his Victory over
the French at Agencourt. (p49)