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Or Commemorations of the famous liues and deathes, of the two right honourable Knights of England: the right honourable Sir Walter Mildmay, and Sir Martin Calthrop, Lord Mayor of this honorable Citty of London, who deceased this yeere 1589. Not onely necessary to bee seene, but also to be followed of euery worthy personage in their callings. Written by Henry Robarts

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Londons Lamentation for the losse of theyr worthy and famous Lorde Mayor, Syr Martin Calthrop Knight. Who departed this life in Aprill last passed. 1589.



Londons Lamentation for the losse of theyr worthy and famous Lorde Mayor, Syr Martin Calthrop Knight. Who departed this life in Aprill last passed. 1589.

In Lacedemon, Lycurgus once did dwell,
Renowned far for prudent sage aduise,
His counsell graue fewe liuing did excell,
In Lacedemon helde he was of prise,
As with his yeeres, so did his credite rise.
His godlie life, his iustice vsde with lawe,
From greeuous sinnes his people oft did draw.
Cato in Rome, for wysedome might compare,
With anie one that liued in those daies,
Unto his charge he had a fathers care,
To traine them vp as God the best might please,
He to the iust was friend at all assaies.
And iustice vsed according vnto right,
Without regard of poore, or men of might.
Lycurgus dead, Lacedemon mournd amaine,
And wayld with teares his losse whom they did loue,
Whose wisedome knowne, their honors did maintaine,
Yea oftentimes his counsell many proue,
Whose conscience cleere like to the Turtle doue,
Did shewe his care to maintaine their renowne,
That liu'de with him in this most happy Towne.
For Catoes life whom death hath likewise reft,
Romes Consuls mourne in weedes of wofull blacke,
In Rome say they his peere there is not left,
Which for his charge both day and night would carke.
Unto the Senate he may be a marke.
To ayme aright, and iustice so to vse
As their estates by wrongs they nill abuse.


Amongst the rest that mourne their Consuls want,
Let famous London presse in place to showe,
In weedes of woe with teares for to lament,
The losse of him for whom they sorrowe so,
Ye London Cittizens, now explaine your woe.
For Calthrop graue, who late resignd his breth
And natures due, hath yeelded vnto death.
Our Cato wise, our Calthrop peerelesse Knight,
Lord Mayor of London, blessed in her name,
To earth hath yeelded what was hers by right,
Ye in that yeere he to his honor came,
By Death was forced to resigne the same,
To Londons losse, and Commons sorrow great,
For Calthrops death then cheefe in Iustice seate.
Calthrop Lord Mayor the Commons all thus cry,
Which late did liue in tipe of hie renowne,
Beloued of Prince, beloued of Commontie,
Beloued of all in louelie London Towne,
From high estate loe death hath taken downe,
To rest with him entombed in the earth,
Untill Christ come, that bought vs with his death.
A worshipfull of Drapers Companie,
Was Calthrop graue, when he with vs did liue.
Of birth a Gentleman of Norfolke Countie,
As wel was seene by auncient cotes he geeue,
For whose decease his kinne and friends may grieue.
Threescore odde yeeres by number of record,
He liued in fame, and died at last a Lord.
In Iunos right, with Matron wife he linckt,
From out whose lines branches most sweete did spring,
By whom he liues, though death hath causde him shrinke,
Yet of his worth my Muse a while shall sing,
And cheeflie touch one honorable thing
Calthrop performd not long before his death,
His entertainment of Queene Elizabeth.


When royall Prince of her most gracious loue,
To famous London did pretend to come,
Then Calthrop graue her Cittizens to proue
Did notice giue, and warned all and some
Each man should ready be in his appointed roome,
To giue her grace the welcome that was meete,
For louing Subiects to a Queene so sweete.
Which by his doome most brauely was performde,
In royall order sparing for no cost,
By Calthrops counsell, whose honor yet consernde
In such braue sort as Cittizens may boast,
Their paines and charges nere a whit was lost.
For graciously each thing she did esteeme,
And gaue them thankes most like a royall Queene.
But Calthrop cheefe with grace she did reward,
Through whose foresight her welcome was the more,
To Aldermen she had a like regard,
And curteously as she had doone of yore,
Unto Lord Mayor her princelie Mace that bore,
With hartie thanks their zeale she did requite,
Which with such pompe had pleasde her princely sight.
Thus of our Queene did Calthrop merit fame,
And fauour such as sildome hath beene showne,
For which deserts honor extols his name,
And fame with trompe shall make him better knowne
In London Cittie, where he did sit in throne
Of Iustice, ministring his Princes lawes,
As right requirde and equitie of cause.
Whose care to rule in honourable state,
Was such as London might full well beseeme,
He iustice vsed with such an vpright rate
As Salomon for wisedome he had beene,
Pleasing to God and to our gracious Queene.
Religion pure he did so much regard,
As zealous preachers dailie he preferd.


Pittie had place within his tender hart,
As manie in distressed state can tell,
Whose hand was ready alwaies to impart
To such as in behauiour vsde them well,
As many in this Cittie walles can tell.
To fatherlesse, the widdow and the Mayd,
His greatest fauour neuer was denayd.
The poore with weeping wayle and wring their handes,
And sighing say, gone is our chiefest trust,
The prisoner poore which lies in sorrowes bands,
Defie the Fates that closde thee in the dust,
Who in thy actions was mercifull and iust.
And with thy purse was ready still to giue,
Their needie state, thy bountie did releeue.
When they recount thy charitable deedes,
And thinke howe death hath nowe bereft their ioy,
Sad heauie lookes and teares from eyes proceedes,
Cursing fell death the cause of their anoy,
Which in his furie our comfort did destroy.
Reauing his life which might haue liued long,
Of enuious mind to doe the Commons wrong.
If cruell thou hadst wayde our Common good,
Thou would'st haue spard to shred his vitall thred,
And not haue sought so soone his peerelesse blood,
That all the poore within those gates should neede.
But Sisters three with thee had so decreed.
That die he must, and death thou hast thy right,
The liuely truncke of Calthrop worthy Knight.
Whom teares ne plaints, nor shriking wofull cries.
Can call againe vnto his former life.
His childrens mones, nor seruants sorrowing noyse,
Nor yet the plaints of his most louing wife,
Whose teares like floods from eyes hath beene as rife.
But all in vaine, entombde he must abide,
Untill Christ come his chosen to deuide.


Calthrop farewell, thou peere of Common weale,
Thou light to men to guide their wayes aright,
Thy vertuous worth I cannot halfe reueale,
Nor zealous life as thou deseruest resite,
Of thee my quill vnable is to write.
But whilst I liue graue Calthrop I will praise,
Whose iustice shind like Phæbus in her rayes.
Blessed art thou whom God hath pleasde to call,
Unto his throne to rest with him on hie,
Plast next his seate in glory eternall,
Where faithfull soules doth liue and neuer die,
That on the blood of Christ vnfained doth relie.
Amongst which sort, O Lord for Iesus sake,
Accept vs all, and to thy fauour take.
To famous London, sweet Christ encline thine eare,
Maintaine their honour, her Lord Mayor doo blesse,
To Aldermen haue thou a Fathers care,
Whose paines are great thy Gospell to encrease.
Most zealously thy name which dooth professe.
Aduancing daily thy religion,
Of zeale to thee, and truth to English Crowne.
Whose redines for Prince and Countries good,
Is daily seene when she in neede doth stand,
Their purse their men, all bent to venture blood,
Whether to sea, or seruice on the land,
Yea all alike be prest at her commaund.
God and S. George our London harts still sayth,
For Countries cause, and Queene Elizabeth.
Finis.
H. R.