All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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THE FEAREFULL SUMMER: OR LONDONS CALAMITIE |
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
57
THE FEAREFULL SUMMER: OR LONDONS CALAMITIE
THE PRAEFACE.
In this lamentable time of generall Calamity, our hainous sinnes prouoking Gods iust Indignation, this heauy visitation and mortality; I being attendant vpon the Queenes Maiestie at Hampton-Court, and from thence within two miles of Oxford with her Barge (with much griefe & remorse) did see and heare miserable and cold entertainement of many Londoners; which, for their preseruation fled and retired themselues from the City into the Country. Whence I noted the peoples Charity, and great amendment, for they had giuen ouer one of the seuen deadly sinnes, which was Couetousnesse, and in many places were so farre out of loue of a Citizens money, that they abhor'd and hated either to touch or receiue it; entertaining them with bitter worme-wood welcome, (which hearbe was in more request amongst many of them, then any of the heauenly Graces or Cardinall Vertues) yet the hearbe of Grace was in much estimation, although the name of it was a document that they had occasion to Rue the Time; I further perceiued that they were so farre from beleeuing or crediting any man, that they would or durst not trust their owne noses, but were doubtfull, that that sence would conspire with the Plague to murther them, wherefore (like cunning Mariners, or mole-catchers,) they would craftily in their streetes and high-wayes fetch the wind of any man, although they were ouer shooes & boots, & sometimes tumbled into a ditch for their labours. This was the time when a man with a night-cap at noone, would haue frighted a whole Parish out of their wits, when to call for Aqua-vitæ (though it had bin but to make a drench for a sicke horse) was enough to haue his house shut vp. When Lord haue mercy vpon vs, made many of them tremble more then God Refuse, Renounce, Confound, or Damne. When a man trauailing in the habit of a Citizen, was a meere Bulbegger; when for a man to say that hee came from Hell, would yeed him better well-come without money, then one would giue to his owne father and mother that came from London. In this time of mans great misery and small mercy, I tooke my pen in hand and wrote this ensuing discourse: I haue (as neere as I could) suited it sadly, according to the nature of the subiect. And truly, because that the bare and naked truth was so cleare and ample, that I need not to stuffe it out with friuolous fables or fantasticall fictions; with my soule, I thankefully aeknowledge Gods great mercy extended towards mee (one of the most wretched and wicked) in that so many thousands of better life and conuersation, haue fallen on my right hand and on my left, and round about me; yet hath his gracious protection beene my guard, for the which in my gratitude to my God, and to auoyd the sinne of idlenesse, I haue written, what those that can, may reade.
58
Keepes close his Quiuer, and restraines his Rod,
And though our crying Crimes to Heau'n doe cry
For vengeance, on accurst Mortality;
Yea though we merit mischiefes manifold,
Blest Mercy doth the hand of Iustice hold.
But when that Eye that sees all things most cleare,
Expects our fruits of Faith, from yeere, to yeere,
Allowes vs painefull Pastors, who bestow
Great care and toyle, to make vs fruitfull grow,
And daily doth in those weake Vessels send
The dew of Heauen, in hope we will amend;
Yet (at the last) he doth perceiue and see
That we vnfruitfull and most barren be,
Which makes his indignation frowne,
And (as accursed Fig-trees) cut vs downe.
Thus Mercy (mock'd) plucks Iustice on our heads,
And grieuous Plagues our Kingdome ouerspreads:
Then let vs to our God make quicke returning,
With true contrition, fasting and with mourning:
The Word is God, and God hath spoke the Word,
If we repent he will put vp his sword.
Hee's grieu'd in punishing, Hee's slow to Ire,
And HE a sinners death doth not desire.
If our Compunction our Amendment show,
Our purple sinnes Hee'll make as white as snow.
If we lament our God is mercifull,
Our scarlet crimes hee'll make as white as wooll.
Faire London that did late abound in blisse,
And wast our Kingdomes great Metropolis,
'Tis thou thar art deiected, low in state,
Disconsolate, and almost desolate,
(The hand of Heau'n that onely did protect thee)
Thou hast prouok'd most iustly to correct thee,
And for thy pride of Heart and deeds vniust,
He layes thy Pompe and Glory in the dust.
Thou that wast late the Queene of Cities nam'd,
Throughout the world admir'd, renown'd, & fam'd:
Thou that hadst all things at command and will,
To whom all England was a hand-maide still;
For rayment, fewell, fish, fowle, beasts, for food,
For fruits, for all our Kingdome counted good,
Both neere and farre remote, all did agree
To bring their best of blessings vnto thee.
Thus in conceite, thou seem'dst to rule the Fates,
Whilst peace and plenty flourish'd in thy Gates,
Could I relieue thy miseries as well,
As part I can thy woes and sorrowes tell,
Then should my Cares be eas'd with thy Reliefe,
And all my study how to end thy griefe.
Thou that wer't late rich, both in friends & wealth,
Magnificent in state, and strong in health,
As chiefest Mistris of our Country priz'd,
Now chiefly in the Country art despis'd.
The name of London now both farre and neere,
Strikes all the Townes and Villages with feare,
And to be thought a Londoner is worse,
Then one that breakes a house, or takes a purse.
He that will filch or steale, now is the Time,
No Iustice dares examine him, his crime;
Let him but say that he from London came,
So full of Feare and Terrour is that name,
The Constable his charge will soone forsake,
And no man dares his Mittimus to make.
Thus Citizens plagu'd for the Citie sinnes,
Poore entertainement in the Country winnes.
Some feare the City, and fly thence amaine,
And those are of the Country fear'd againe,
59
More then they would 'gainst Turks, or Iewes or Moores,
I thinke if very Spaniards had come there,
Their well-come had bin better, and their cheare.
Whilst Hay-cock lodging, with hard slender fare,
Welcome like dogs vnto a Church they are,
Feare makes them with the Anabaptists ioyne,
For if an Hostesse doe receiue their coyne,
She in a dish of water, or a paile,
Will new baptize it, lest it something aile.
Thus many a Citizen well stor'd with gold,
Is glad to lye vpon his mother mold,
His bed the map of his mortality,
His curtaines clouds, aud Heau'n his Canopy.
The russet Plow-swaine, and the Leathren Hinde,
Through feare is growne vnmannerly, vnkinde:
And in his house (to harbour) hee'll prefer
An Infidell before a Londoner:
And thus much friendship Londoners did win,
The Deuill himselfe had better welcome bin:
Those that with trauell were tir'd, faint, and dry,
For want of drinke, might starue, & choke, and dye:
For why the hob-nail'd Boores, inhumane Blocks,
Vncharitable Hounds, hearts hard as Rocks,
Did suffer people in the field to sinke,
Rather then giue, or sell a draught of drinke.
Milke-maides & Farmers wiues are growne so nice,
They thinke a Citizen a Cockatrice,
And Country Dames, are wax'd so coy and briske,
They shun him as they'll shun a Basiliske:
For euery one the sight of him would flye,
All fearing he would kill them with his eye.
Ah wofull London, I thy griefe bewayle,
And if my sighes and prayers may but preuaile;
I humbly beg of God that hee'le be pleas'd,
In Iesus Christ, his wrath may be appeas'd,
With-holding his dread Iudgements from aboue,
And once more graspe thee in his armes of loue.
In mercy all our wickednes remit,
For who can giue thee thankes within the pit?
Strange was the change in lesse then 3. months space,
In ioy, in woe, in grace, and in disgrace:
A healthfull Aprill, a diseased Iune,
And dangerous Iuly, brings all out of tune.
That City whose rare obiects pleas'd the eyes
With much content and more varieties,
She that was late delightfull to the eares,
With melody Harmonious, like the Spheares:
She that had all things that might please the scent,
And all she felt, did giue her touch content,
Her Cinque Port scences, richly fed and cloyd
With blessins bountifull, which she enioy'd.
Now 3. monthes change hath fill'd it full of feare,
As if no Solace euer had beene there.
What doe the Eyes see there but grieued sights
Of sicke, oppressed, and distressed wights?
Houses shut vp, some dying, and some dead,
Some (all amazed,) flying, and some fled.
Streets thinly man'd with wretches euery day,
Which haue no power to flee, or meanes to stay,
In some whole streete (perhaps) a Shop or twayne
Stands open, for small takings, and lesse gaine.
And euery closed window, dore and stall,
Makes each day seeme a solemne Festiuall.
Dead Coarses carried, and recarried still,
Whilst fifty Corpses scarce one graue doth fill.
With Lord have mercie vpon vs, on the dore,
Which (though the words be good) doth grieue men sore.
And o're the doore-posts fix'd a crosse of red
Betokening that there Death some blood hath shed.
Some with Gods markes or Tokens doe espie,
Those Marks or Tokens, shew them they must die.
Some with their Carbuncles, and sores new burst,
Are fed with hope they haue escap'd the worst:
Thus passeth all the weeke, till Thursdayes Bill
Shews vs what thousands death that weeke did kil.
That fatall Bill, doth like a razor cut
The dead, the liuing in a maze doth put,
And he that hath a Christian heart, I know,
Is grieu'd, and wounded with the deadly blow.
These are the obiects of the Eye, now heare
And marke the mournefull musicke of the Eare;
There doe the brazen Iron tongu'd loud bells
(Deaths clamorous musicke) ring continuall knells,
Some lofty in their notes, some sadly towling,
Whilst fatall dogs made a most dismall howling,
Some franticke rauing, some with anguish crying,
Some singing, praying, groaning, and some dying,
The healthfull grieuing, and the sickly groaning,
All in a mournefull diapason moaning.
Here, Parents for their Childrens losse lament.
There, Childrens griefe for Parents life that's spent:
Husbands deplore their louing Wiues decease:
Wiues for their Husbands weepe remedilesse:
The Brother for his Brother, friend for friend,
Doe each for other mutuall sorrowes spend,
Here, Sister mournes for Sister, Kin for Kin,
As one grife ends, another doth begin:
There one lies languishing, with slender fare:
Small comfort, lesse attendance. and least care,
With none but Death and he to tugge together,
Vntill his corps and soule part each from either.
In one house one, or two, or three doth fall,
And in another Death playes sweepe-stake all.
Thus vniuersall sorrowfull complaining;
Is all the musicke now in London raigning,
Thus is her comfort sad Calamitie,
And all her Melodie is Maladie.
These are the obiects of the eyes and eares,
Most wofull sights, and sounds of griefes and feares.
60
With cost and care to please the Appetite
What she was wont to hate, she doth adore,
And what's high priz'd, she held despis'd before,
The drugs, the drenches, and vntoothsome drinks,
Feare giues a sweetnes to all seuerall stinks,
And for supposed Antidotes, each Palate
Of most contagious weedes will make a Sallate,
And any of the simplest Mountebankes
May cheat them (as they will) of Coine & thankes,
With scraped pouder of a shooing-horne,
Which they'le beleeue is of an Vnicorne.
Angelicaes, distastfull roote is gnaw'd,
And hearbe of Grace most Ruefully is chaw'd.
Garlick offendeth neither tast, nor smell,
Feare and opinion makes it rellish well,
Whilst Beazer stone, and mighty Mithridate,
To all degrees are great in estimate,
And Triacles power is wonderously exprest,
And Dragon Water in most high reque'st.
These 'gainst the Plague are good preseruatiues,
But the best cordiall is t'amend our liues.
Sinne's the maine cause and we must first begin
To cease our griefes, by ceasing of our sinne.
I doe beleeue that God hath giuen in store
Good medicines to cure, or ease each sore,
But first remoue the cause of the disease,
And then (no doubt but) the effect will cease.
Our sinn's the Cause, remoue our sinnes from hence,
And God will soone remoue the Pestilence,
Then euery med'cine (to our consolation)
Shall haue his power, his force his operation,
And till that time, experiments are not
But Paper walls against a Cannon shot.
On many a post I see Quacke-saluers Bills
Like Fencers Challenges, to shew their skills:
As if they were such Masters of defence
That they dare combat with the Pestilence;
Meete with the plague in any deadly fray,
And bragge to beare the victory away,
But if their patients patiently beleeue them,
They'le cure them (without faile) of what they giue them;
What though ten thousands by their drēches perish
They made them purposely themselues to cherish,
Their Art is a meere Artlesse kind of lying.
To picke their liuing out of others dying.
This sharpe inuectiue no way seemes to touch
The learn'd Physician, whom I honour much,
The Paracelsians and the Galennists,
The Philosophicall graue Herbalists.
These I admire and reuerence, for in those
God doth dame Natures secrets fast inclose,
Which they distribute, as occasion serue
Health to reserue, and health decai'd conserue.
'Tis 'gainst such Rat-catchers I bend my pen
Which doe mechanically murther men,
Whose promises of cure, (like lying knaues)
Doth begger men, or send them to their graues.
Now London, for the sence of feeling next,
Thou in thy feeling chiefely art perplext:
Thy heart feeles sorrow, and thy body anguish,
Thou in thy feeling feel'st thy force to languish,
Thou feel'st much woe, and much calamity,
And many millions feele thy misery:
Thou feel'st the fearefull Plague, the Flix, and Feuer,
Which many a soule doth from the body seuer.
And I beseech God for our Sauiours merit,
To let thee feele, the Comfort of his Spirit.
Last for the solace of the smell or scent:
Some in contagious roomes are closely pen't,
Whereas corrupted Aire they take, and giue
Till time ends, or lends liberty to liue.
One with a piece of tasseld well tarr'd Rope,
Doth with that nose-gay keepe himselfe in hope;
Another doth a wispe of worme-wood pull,
And with great Iudgement crams his nostrils full;
A third takes off his socks from's sweating feete,
And makes them his perfume alongst the streete:
A fourth hath got a pownc'd Pommander box,
With woorme-wood iuice, or sweating of a Fox,
Rue steep'd in vineger, they hold it good
To cheere the sences, and preserue the blood.
Whilst Billets Bonefire-like, and faggots dry
Are burnt i'th streetes, the Aire to purifie.
Thou great Almightie, giue them time and space,
And purifie them with thy heauenly Grace,
Make their repentance Incense, whose sweet sauour
May mount vnto thy Throne, and gaine thy fauour.
Thus euery sence, that should the heart delight,
Are Ministers, and organs to affright.
The Citizens doe from the City runne.
The Countries feares, the Citizens doe shunne:
Both feare the Plague, but neither feares one iot
The euill wayes which hath the plague begot.
This is the way this sickenes to preuent
Feare to offend, more then the punishment.
All trades are dead, or almost out of breath
But such as liue by sickenesse or by death
The Mercers, Grocers, Silk-men, Goldsmiths, Drapers,
Are out of Season, like noone burning Tapers,
All functions faile almost, through want of buyers:
And euery art and mysterie turne Dyers,
The very Water-men giue ouer plying,
Their rowing tade doth faile, they fall to dying.
Some men there are, that rise by others falls
Propheticke Augurists in vrinals,
Those are right water-men, and rowe so well,
They either land their fares in Heau'n or Hell.
I neuer knew them yet, to make a stay
And land at Purgatory, by the way:
61
Their patients feele their Purgatory here.
But this much (Reader) you must vnderstand
They commonly are paid before they land.
Next vnto him th'Apothecarie thriues
By Physicke bills, and his preseruatiues:
Worme-eaten Sextons, mighty gaines doe wiune,
And nasty Graue-makers great commings in.
And Coffin-makers are well paid their rent,
For many a woefull woodden tenement,
For which the Trunk-makers in Pauls Church-yard,
A large Reuenue this sad yeere haue shar'd
Their liuing Customers for Trunkes were fled,
They now made chests or Coffins for the dead.
The Searchers of each corps good gainers be,
The Bearers haue a profitable fee,
And last, the Dog-killers great gaines abounds
For Brayning brawling currs, and foisting hounds.
These are the graue trades, that doe get and saue
Whose grauity brings many to their graue.
Thus grieued London, fil'd with mones and grones
Is like a Golgotha of dead mens bones:
The field where death his bloudy fray doth fight
And kild a thousand in a day and night.
Faire houses, that were late exceeding deare,
At fifty or an hundred pounds a yeare,
The Landlords are so pittifull of late
Theyle let them at a quarter of the rate.
So he that is a mightie moneyed man,
Let him but thither make what haste he can,
Let him disburse his gold and siluer heape.
And purchase London 'tis exceeding cheape,
But if he tarrie but one three months more,
I hope 'twill be as deare as 'twas before.
A Country cottage, that but lately went
At foure markes, or at three pounds yeerely rent.
A Citizen, whose meere necessity
Doth force him now into the Country fly,
Is glad to hire two Chambers of a Carter
And pray & pay with thankes fiue Pounds a quarter.
Then here's the alteration of this yeare
The Citties cheapenes makes the Country deare.
Besides another mischiefe is, I see
A man dares not be sicke although he be:
Let him complaine but of the stone or gout
The plague hath strooke him, presently they doubt.
My selfe hath beeue perplexed now and then,
With the wind Collick, yeeres aboue thrice ten,
Wh'ch in the Country I durst not repeate
Although my pangs & gripes, & paines were great.
For to be sicke of any kind of griefe
Would make a man worse welcome then a thiefe,
To be drunke sicke, which er'st did credit winne,
Was feat'd infectious, and held worse then sinne.
This made me, and a many more beside,
Their griefes to smother, and their paines to hide,
To tell a mery tale with Visage glad,
When as the Collick almost made me mad.
Thus meere dissembling, many practis'd then,
And mid'st of paine, seem'd pleasant amongst men,
For why, the smallest sigh or grone, or shrieke
Would make a man his meat and lodging seeke.
This was the wretched Londoners hard case
Most hardly welcome into any place,
Whil'st Country people, where so'ere they went
Would stop their Noses to auoid their sent,
When as the case did oft most plaine appeare
'Twas onely they themselues that stunke with feare.
Nature was dead (or from the Country runne)
A Father durst not entertaine his Sonne,
The Mother sees her Daughter, and doth feare her,
Commands her, on her blessing not come neere her.
Affinity, nor any kinde of Kinne,
Or ancient friendship could true welcome winne,
The Children scarcely would their Parents know
Or (did if they,) but slender duty shew:
Thus feare made nature most vnnaturall,
Duty vndutifull, or very small,
No friendship, or else cold and miserable,
And generally all vncharitable.
Nor London Letters little better sped
They would not be receiu'd (much lesse be read)
But cast into the fire and burnt with speed
As if they had bin Hereticks indeed.
And late I saw vpon a Sabbath day
Some Citizens at Church prepar'd to pray,
But (as they had bin excommunicate)
The good Church-wardēs thrust them out the gate.
Another Country vertue I'le repeat,
The peoples charity was growne so great
That whatsoeuer Londoner did dye,
In Church or Church-yard should not buried lye.
Thus were they scorn'd, despised, banished,
Excluded from the Church, aliue, and dead,
Aliue, their bodies could no harbour haue,
And dead, not be allow'd a Christian Graue:
Thus was the Countryes kindnesse cold, and small,
No house, no Church, no Christian buriall.
Oh thou that on the winged windes dost sit
And seest our misery, remedy it,
Although we haue deseru'd thy vengeance hot,
Yet in thy fury (Lord) consume vs not.
But in thy mercies sheath thy slaying sword,
Deliuer vs, according to thy word,
Shut vp thy Quiuer, stay thy angry rod
That all the world may know thou art our God,
Oh open wide the gate of thy compassion
Assure our soules that thou art our Saluation.
Then all our thoughts, & words, & works, wee'le frame
To magnifie thy great and glorious Name,
The wayes of God are intricate, no doubt
Vnsearchable, and passe mans finding out,
62
And in his hand doth hold the hearts of Kings,
And for the loue, which to our King he beares,
By sickenes he our sinfull Country cleares,
That he may be a Patrone, and a guide
Vnto a people purg'd and purifi'd.
This by a president is manifest;
When famous late Elizabeth deceast,
Before our gracious Iames put on the Crowne,
Gods hand did cut superfluous branches downe,
Not that they then that were of life bereft,
Were greater sinners then the number left:
But that the Plague should then the Kingdome cleare
The good to comfort, and the bad to feare:
That as a good King, God did vs assure,
So he should haue a Nation purg'd and pure.
And as Elizabeth when she went hence,
Was wayted on, as did beseeme a Prince:
Of all degrees to tend her Maiestie,
Neere forty thousand in that yeere did dye,
That as she was belou'd of high and lowe:
So at her death, their deaths their loues did showe,
Whereby the world did note Elizabeth,
Was louingly attended after death.
So mighty Iames (the worlds admired mirour)
True faiths defending friend, sterne Foe to Errour,
When he Great Britains glorious Crown did leaue,
A Crowne of endlesse glory to receaue,
Then presently in lesse then eight months space
Full eighty thousand follow him a pace.
And now that Royall Iames intombed lyes,
And that onr gracious Charles his roome supplies,
As Heau'n did for his Father formerly
A sinfull Nation cleanse and purifie.
So God, for him these things to passe doth bring,
And mends the subiects for so good a King.
Vpon whose Throne may peace and plenty rest,
And he and his Eternally be blest.
64
FINIS.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |