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cause_n death_n good_a life_n 4,509 5 4.8259 4 true
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
B05085 A rare example of a vertuous maid in Paris, who was by her own mother procured to be put in prison, thinknig [sic] thereby to compel her to popery, but she continued to the end, and finished her life in the fire. Tune is, O man in desperation. 1674-1679? (1679) Wing R279A; ESTC R182361 1,083 1

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A rare Example of a vertuous Maid in Paris Who was by her own Mother procured to be put in Prison thinknig thereby to compel ker to Popery but she continued to the end and finished her life in the Fire Tune is O man in desperation IT was a Ladies Daughter of Paris properly Her Mother her commanded to Mass that she should hie O pardon me dear mother her Daughter dear did say Unto that filthy Idol I never can obey With weeping and with wailing her mother then did go To assemble her kinsfolks that they the truth may know Who being then assembled they did this Maiden call And put her into prison to fear her there withal But where they thought to fear her she did most strong endure Although her years were tender her faith was firm and sure She weigh'd not their allurements she fear'd no fiery flame she hop'd though Christ her Saviour to have immortal fame Before the Iudge they brought her thinking that she would turn And there she was condemned in fire for to burn Instead of golden Bracelets with cords they bound her fast By God grant me with patience quoth she to die at last And on the morrow after which was her dying day They stript this silly Dantosel out of her rich array Her chain of gold so costly away from her they take And she again most joyfully did all the world forsake Unto the place of torment they brought her speedily With heart and mind most constant she willing was to dye But seeing many Ladies assembled in that place These words she then pronounced samenting then their case You Ladies of this City mark well my woros quoth she Although I shall be burned yet do not pitty me Your selves I rather pitty I weep for your decay Amend your time fair Ladies and do no time delay Then came her Mother weeping her Daughter to behold And in her hand she brought her a book covered with gold Throw hence quoth she that Idol convey it from my sight And bring me hit her my Bible wherein I most delight But my distressed Mother why weep you be content You have to death delivered me most like an innocent Tormenter do thine office on me when thou think'st best But God my heavenly father will bring my soul to rest But D my aged Father where ever thou dost lie Thou knowst not thy poor daughter is ready for to dye But yet amongst the Angels in heaven I hope to dwell Therefore my loving Father I bid thee now farewel Farewel likewise my mother adieu my friends also God grant that you by others may never feel such woe Forsake your superstition the cause of mortal strife Imbrace Gods true Religion for which I lose my life When all these words were spoken then come the man of death Who kindled soon a fire which stop'd this Virgins breath To Christ her only Saviour she did her soul commend Farewel quoth she good people and thus she made an end Printed for F. Coles T. Vere J. Wrigh● ●nd J. Clark