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The Worthines of Wales

Wherein are more then a thousand seuerall things rehearsed: some set out in prose to the pleasure of the Reader, and with such varietie of verse for the beautifying of the Book, as no doubt shal delight thousands to vnderstand. Which worke is enterlarded with many wonders and right strange matter to consider of: All the which labour and deuice is drawne forth and set out by Thomas Churchyard, to the glorie of God, and honour of his Prince and Countrey

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An Introduction to remember Shropshiere.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

An Introduction to remember Shropshiere.

How hath thy muse so long bene luld a sleepe?
What deadly drinke, hath sence in slumber brought?
Doth poyson cold, through blood and bosome creepe?

A deuice of the Author called Reasous threatning.

Or is of spite, some charme by witchcraft wrought,

That vitall spreetes, hath lost their feeling quite?
Or is the hand, so weake it cannot write?
Come ydle man, and shewe some honest cause,
Why writers pen, makes now so great a pause.


Can Wales be nam'de, and Shropshiere be forgote,
The marshes must, make muster with the rest:
Shall Sallop say, their countreyman doth dote,
To treate of things, and write what thinks him best.
No sure such fault, were dubble error plaine,
If in thy pen, be any Poets vayne,
Or gifts of grace, from Skyes did drop on thee,
Than Shrewsebrie Towne, thereof first cause must bee.
Both borne and bred, in that same Seate thou wast,

The Author borne in Shrewseburie.


(Of race right good, or els Records do lye)
From whence to schoole, where euer Churchyard past.
To natiue Soyle, he ought to haue an eye,
Speake well of all, and write what world may proue,
Let nothing goe, beyond thy Countries loue:

Shrewseburie the marshes of Wales.


Wales once it was, and yet to mend thy tale,
Make Wales the Parke, and plaine Shropshiere the pale.
If pale be not, a speciall peece of Parke,
Sit silent now, and neither write nor speake:
But leaue out pale, and thou mayst misse the marke,
Thy muse would hit, or els thy shaft may breake
Against a stone, thou thinkst to glance vpon.

Reasons threatning is done.


Now weigh these words, my chorlish check is gon,
More gentle speech, hereafter may I spend,
When that in verse, I see thy Countrie pend.
When Reasons threat, had rapt me on the pate,
(With priuie blowes, that neuer drawes no blood)

The priuie blowes that Reason giues.


To studie streight, with pen and ynke I gate,
And sadly there, bethought me what was good.
But ere the locke, and doore was bolted fast,
Ten thousand toyes, in head through fancie past,
And twentie more, conceyts came rouling on,
That were too long, to talke and treat vpon.


Wherefore in briefe, I settled pen to worke,

For feare of shame slouthfull men are well occupied.

For feare least world, found fault with slouthfull muse:

And calling vp, the spreetes that close did lurke
In cloke of ease, that would good wits abuse.
I held on way, to auncient Shrewsebrie Towne,
And so from horse, at lodging lighting downe,
I walkt the streates, and markt what came to vewe,
Found old things dead, as world were made a newe.

Newe buildings makes old deuice blush.

For buildings gay, and gallant finely wrought,

Had old deuice, through tyme supplanted cleane:
Some houses bare, that seem'd to be worth nought,
Were fat within, that outward looked leane:
Wit had won wealth, to stuffe each emptie place,
The cunning head, and labouring hand had grace
To gayne and keepe, and lay vp still in store,
As man might say, the heart could wish no more.
A number sure, were ritch become of late,

Labour reapes reward.

By worldly meanes, by hap or wisedomes arte:

He had no praise, that did apayre his state,
And he most lawde, that playd the wisest parte.
To come by goods, well won with honest trade,
And warely looke, there were no hauock made:
Such thriftie men, doe dwell in Shrewsebrie now,
That all the Towne, is full of Marchants throw.

Many well borne and rich in Shrewseburie. Diuers Almes houses in Shrewseburie, and hath bin there mainteyned in old time.

And sondrie borne, of right good race and blood,

Who freely liues, from bondage euery way:
Whose rent and lands, whose wealth and worldly good,
(When other works, giues them free leaue to play)
Most part are ritch, or els right well to liue,
And to the poore, the godly people giue:
To preaching still, repayres both young and old,
Makes more thereof, then of ritch pearle or gold.


Now come to poynts, and rules of ciuill men,

Shrewseburie and Wales are like in courtesie.


Good maner calde, that shewes good nature still:
And so with Wales, ye may compare them then,
The meanest sort, I meane of slendrest skill.
For as some whelpes, that are of gentle kinde,
Exceedes curre dogges, that beares a doggish minde:

Fayre wordes and reuerence is a common thing there.


So these meeke folke, that meetes you in the streete,
Will curchie make, or shewe an humble spreete.
This argues sure, they haue in Wales bin bred,

Good nature and good maners shewes good mynds.


Or well brought vp, and taught where now they dwell:
If haughtie heart, be spyde by loftie hed,
And curteous folkes, by lookes are knowne full well:
Me thinkes the myld, wins all goodwill away,
The sturdie stands, like Stagge or Bucke at bay:

Stout behauiour is rather abhorred then embraced.


The tame white Doue, and Faulkon for delytes,
Are better farre, then fifteene hundred Kytes.
My theame is Wales, and to that theame I goe,

Many of wales wealthie men in Shrewseburie.


Perhaps some seede, of that same Soyle is here:
Sowne in such sort, that dayly it doth growe
In fayrest fourme, to furnish forth this shiere.
Admit the same, the sequell graunts it well,
Passe that discourse, and giue me leaue to tell
How Shrewsebrie stands, and of the Castles seate,
The Riuer large, and stonie bridge so greate.
The Towne three parts, stands in a valley loe,

A deepe deuice the foundation of Shrewseburie. The Castle built in such a braue plot, that it could haue espyed a byrd flying in euery streate.


Three gates there are, through which you needes must passe,
As to the height, of Towne the people goe:
So Castle seemes, as twere a looking glasse,
To looke through all, and hold them all in awe,
Treangle wise, the gates and Towne doth drawe:
But Castle hill, spyes out each streate so plaine,
As though an eye, on them did still remaine.


In midst of Towne, fower Parrish Churches are,

A matter to be marked.

Full nere and close, together note that right:

The vewe farre of, is wondrous straunge and rare,
For they doe seeme, a true loue knot to sight:

A Knight lyes crosselegged in S. Maries, his name is Leyborne.

They stand on hill, as Nature wrought a Seate,

To place them fower, in stately beautie greate:
As men deuout, to buyld these works tooke care,
So in these daies, these Temples famous are.

Of the same of Churches.

First for the cause, whereon they so were made,

Then for their fourme, and fashion framed fine:
Next for the cost, the stones and auncient trade,
And chiefe of all, for mans intent deuine.
Their placing thus, the plots whereon they stand,
The workmanship, with cunning Masons hand:
Their height and breadth, their length and thicknesse both,
Argues in deede, a wondrous worke of troth.

Of the Riuer of Seuarne.

Not farre from them, doth goodly Seuarne run,

An arme of Sea, a water large and deepe:
Whose headstrong streame, the Fisher can not shun,
Except by banke, both bote and he doth creepe.
This Riuer runs, to many a noble Towne,
As Wyster one, and Bristowe of renowne:
With moe besides, which here I neede not name,
The Card can shewe, both them and all their fame.

A notable Riuer, called Seuarn, running vnder two faire bridges of stone.

About the walles, trim vnder goodly banks

Doth Seuarne passe, and comes by Cotten hill:
Much praise they hab, and purchast many thanks,
That at Stonebridge, made place for many a Mill,
About the Towne, this water may be brought,
If that a way, were nere the Castle wrought:
So Castle should, stand like a peereles mount,
And Shrewsebrie Towne, be had in great account.


Full from Welshbridge, along by meddowes greene,

There is a bridge called Welshbridge, which shewes Shrewseburie to be of Wales


The Riuer runs, most fayre and fine to vewe:
Such fruitfull ground, as this is seldome seene
In many parts, if that I heare be true.
Yet each man knowes, that grasse is in his pride,
And ayre is fresh, by euery Riuers side:
But sure this plot, doth farre surpasse the rest,
That by good lot, is not with graces blest.
Who hath desire, to vewe both hill and vale,

The Castle though old and ruynate stands most braue and gallantly.


Walke vp old wall, of Castle rude and bare,
And he shall see, such pleasure set to sale,
In kindly sort, as though some Marchants ware
Were set in shop, to please the passer by:
Or els by shewe, beguyld the gazers eye:

Maister Prince his house stāds so trim and finely, that it graceth all the Soyle it is in.


For looke but downe, along the pleasant coast,
And he shall thinke, his labour is not lost.
One way appeares, Stonebridge and Subbarbs there,
Which called is, the Abbey Forehed yet:
A long great streate, well builded large and faire,
In as good ayre, as may be wisht with wit:
Where Abbey stands, and is such ring of Belles,
As is not found, from London vnto Welles:
The Steeple yet, a gracious pardon findes,
To bide all blasts, all wethers stormes and windes.
Another way, full ore Welshbridge there is,

Here is the way to Meluerley, to Wattels Borrow where Ma. Leighton dwelles, to Cawx Castle Lord Staffords, and to Maister Williams house.


An auncient streate, cal'd Franckwell many a day:
To Ozestri, the people passe through this,
And vnto Wales, it is the reddie way.
In Subbarbs to, is Castle Forehed both,
A streate well pau'd, two seuerall waies that goeth:
All this without, and all the Towne within,
When Castle stood, to vewe hath subiect bin.

Aldermen in Scarlet orderly in Shrewseburie, and two Bayliefes as richly set out as any Mayor of some great Cities.




But now doth hold, their freedome of the Prince,
And as is found, in Records true vnfaynd,
This trim shiere towne, was buylt a great while since:
Whose priuiledge, by loyaltie was gaynd.
Two Bayliefes there, doth rule as course doth fall,
In state like Maior, and orders good withall:
Each officer due, that fits for stately place,
Each yeere they haue, to yeeld the roume more grace.
On sollemne daies, in Scarlet gownes they goe.
Good house they keepe, as cause doth serue therefore:

Great & costly banquetting in Christmas and at all Sessions & Sizes.

But Christmas feasts, compares with all I knowe

Saue London sure, whose state is farre much more.
That Cities charge, makes straungers blush to see,
So princely still, it is in each degree:
But though it beare, a Torch beyond the best,
This Lanterne light, may shine among the rest.

A matter of trafficke to be noted and cōsidered of.

This Towne with more, fit members for the head,

Makes London ritch, yet reapes great gayne from thence:
It giues good gold, for Clothes and markes of lead,
And for Welsh ware, exchaungeth English pence.

London compared to the flowing Sea.

A fountaine head, that many Condits serue,

Keepes moyst drye Springs, and doth it selfe preserue:
The flowing Sea, to which all Riuers run,
May spare some shewres, to quench the heate of Sun.
So London must, like mother to the Realme,

The great must maintaine the smal.

To all her babes, giue milke, giue sucke and pap:

Small Brookes swelles vp, by force of mightie streame,
As little things, from greatest gaynes good hap.
If Shrewsebrie thriue, and last in this good lucke,
It is not like, to lacke of worldly mucke:
The trade is great, the Towne and Seate stands well,
Great health they haue, in such sweete Soyles that dwell.


Thus farre I goe, to proue this Wales in deede,
Or els at least, the martches of the same:
But further speake, of Shiere it is no neede,
Saue Ludloe now, a Towne of noble fame:

Ludloe is set out after.


A goodly Seate, where oft the Councell lyes,
Where Monuments, are found in auncient guyse:
Where Kings and Queenes, in pompe did long abyde,
And where God pleasde, that good Prince Arthur dyde.
This Towne doth front, on Wales as right as lyne,
So sondrie Townes, in Shropshiere doe for troth:
As Ozestry, a pretie Towne full fine,

Ozestrie and Bishops Castle doth front in Wales.


Which may be lou'd, be likte and praysed both.
It stands so trim, and is maintaynd so cleane,
And peepled is, with folke that well doe meane:
That it deserues, to be enrould and shrynd
In each good breast, and euery manly mynd.
The Market there, so farre exceedes withall,
As no one Towne, comes neere it in some sort:
For looke what may, be wisht or had at call,
It is there found, as market men report.
For Poultrie, Foule, of euery kind somewhat,

Of a notable market a meruelous matter.


No place can shewe, so much more cheape then that:
All kind of Cates, that Countrie can afford,
For money there, is bought with one bare word.
They harke not long, about the thing they sell,

Poore folkes makes fewe words in bargayning.


For price is knowne, of each thing that is brought:
Poore folke God wot, in Towne no longer dwell,
Then money had, perhaps a thing of nought:
So trudge they home, both barelegge and vnshod,
With song in Welsh, or els in praysing God:
O sweete content, O merrie mynd and mood,
With sweat of browes, thou lou'st to get thy food.


The blessednesse of plaine people.

O plaine good folke, that haue no craftie braines,

O Conscience cleere, thou knowst no cunning knacks:
O harmlesse hearts, where feare of God remaines,
O simple Soules, as sweete as Uirgin waxe.
O happie heads, and labouring bodies blest,
O sillie Doues, of holy Abrahams brest:
You sleepe in peace, and rise in ioye and blisse,
For Heauen hence, for you prepared is.

A rare report yet truely giuen of Wales.

Where shall we finde, such dealing now adaies?

Where is such cheere, so cheape and chaunge of fare?
Ride North and South, and search all beaten waies,
From Barwick bounds, to Venice if you dare,
And finde the like, that I in Wales haue found,
And I shall be, your slaue and bondman bound.
If Wales be thus, as tryall well shall proue,
Take Wales goodwill, and giue them neighbours loue.

You must reade further before you finde Ludloe described.

To Ludloe now, my muse must needes returne,

A season short, no long discourse doth craue:
Tyme rouleth on, I doe but daylight burne,
And many things, in deede to doe I haue.
Looke what great Towne, doth front on Wales this hower,
I minde to touch, God sparing life and power:
Not hyerd thereto, but hal'de by harts desire
To giue them praise, whose deedes doe fame require.
Verte folium.