University of Virginia Library



Sir Christopher Croker knight of London Vintner.

It is not birth that makes a man renownde,
Nor treasures store that purchaseth our fame,


Bigge words are but an emptie vessels sound,
And death is better then a life with shame.
This proueth Croker in his trauailes made,
Of London once a Vintner by his trade.
In Gracious-streete there was I bound to serue,
My masters name hight Stodie in his time,
From whom in dutie I did neuer swarue,
Nor was corrupted with detested crime:
My education taught me so to liue,
As by my paines my maisters purse might thriue.
My fellow seruants lou'd me with their hearts;
My friends reioyc'd to see me prosper so,
And kind Doll Stodie (though for small deserts)
On me vouchsaft affection to bestow:
Whose constancie was such that for her sake,
No toyle was grieuous I did vndertake.
Such was my state as I my selfe could wish,
Deuoid of care, not toucht with egre want,
My sleepe secure, my foode choise bewties dish,
Onely in this my pleasure seemed scant,
That I vnable was her state to raise,
That was the lengthner of my happie dayes.
Whilst thus I was perplexed with that thought;
Behold how Fortune fauourde my desire,
Of sodaine warres the ioyfull newes was brought,
And Edward ayde of Souldiors did require,
Amongst the rest it fell vnto my chaunce,
That I was prest to follow him to Fraunce.
My master would haue sewd for my discharge,
His daughter with her teares gan me assaile,
On euery side they prayd and promist large,
But nothing could in that respect preuaile:


Such thirst of honour spurd my courage on,
I would to warres although I went alone.
My forwardnesse perceyu'd, my valour knowne,
Ouer a band of Souldiors I was chiefe,
Then sproute the seedes that were but lately sowne,
My longing soule had quickly found reliefe:
I sparde no cost, nor shrunke for any paine,
Because I ment my Loue should reape the gaine.
To proue my faith vnto my Countries stay,
And that a prentice (though but small esteemd,)
Vnto the stoutest neuer giueth way,
If credite may by triall be redeemd:
At Burdeaux siege when other came too late,
I was the first made entrance through the gate.
And when Don Peter driuen out of Spaine,
By an vsurping Bastard of his line,
He crau'd some helpe his crowne to reobtaine,
That in his former glorie he might shine:
Our king ten thousand seuerd from his host,
My selfe was one, I speake it not in boast.
With these Don Peter put the Bastard downe,
Each Citie yeelded at our first approch,
It was not long ere he had got the crowne,
And taught his wicked brother to encroch:
In these affaires so well I shewd my might,
That for my labour I was made a knight.
Thus labour neuer looseth his reward,
And he that seekes for honour sure shall speed,
What crauen mind was euer in regard?
Or where consisteth manhood but in deed?
I speake it that confirmd it by my life,
And in the end Doll Stodie was my wife.