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Canaans Calamitie

Ierusalems Misery, Or The dolefull destruction of faire Ierusalem by Tytvs, the Sonne of Vaspasian Emperour of Rome, in the yeare of Christs Incarnation 74. Wherein is shewed the woonderfull miseries which God brought upon the Citty for sinne, being utterly ouer-throwne and destroyed by Sword, pestilence and famine
 

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[THE DESTRVCTION OF IERVSALEM.]

[_]

This poem has been attributed to both Thomas Dekker and Thomas Deloney.

A description of Ierusalem and the Riches thereof.

Like to a Mourner clad in dolefull black,
That sadly sits to heare a heauie tale:
So must my pen proceed to shew the wrack,
That did with terror Syon hill assaile.
What time Ierusalem that Cittie faire,
Was sieg'd and sackt by great Vespatians heire.
A noble Iew Iosephus writes the storie.
Of all the stories euer yet recited,
Neuer could any make the mind more sorie,
Than that which he so dolefully indighted:
Which sets in sight how for abhomination.
That goodly Citty came to desolation.
In all the world the like might not be seene:
To this faire Citty famous to behole,
A thousand Towers stood there the streetes between,
Whose carued stones great cunning did vnfold:
The buildings all, so stately fine and rare,
That with Ierusalem no place might compare.
In mid'st whereof the glorious Temple stood,
Which Nehemia had so faire erected,
Whose Timber worke was all of precious wood,
By Gods appointment wounderously effected:
Where all the People came with one accord,
And offered sacrifice, vnto the Lord.


Three stately walles begirt this Citty round,
Strongly raild vp of gallant squared stone,
Vnpossible in fight foes should them confound,
By warlike Engines seized therevpon.
The spacious gates most glorious to behold,
Were all gilt ouer, with rich burnisht gould.
And round about Ierusalem likewise.
Were pleasant walkes prepard for recreation,
Sweet daintie gardens feeding gazers eyes,
With workes of wonder and high admiration,
Where in the midst of sweetest smelling flowers,
They built for pleasure, many pleasant bowers.
In treasures store this City did excell,
For pompe and pride it was the onely place,
In her alone did richest Marchants dwell,
And famous Princes sprung of Royall race:
And fairer Dames did nature neuer frame,
Then in that Citty dwelt and thither came.

Christs Prophesie of the destruction of this Cittie and how it came to passe accordingly within Forty yeares after, shewing the cause that mooued the Emperour to come against it.



Ovr Sauiour Christ tracing the bordring hilles,
When he on this faire Cittie cast his eye
The teares along his rosiall cheekes distilles.
Mourning for their destruction drawing nie.
O Ierusalem Ierusalem quoth hee,
My heart bewailes thy great calamitie.
The time shall come and neere it is at hand,
When furious foes shall trench thee round about,
And batter downe thy Towers that stately stand,
All thy strong holds within thee and without:
Thy golden buildings shall they quite confound,
And make thee equall with the lowly ground.
O woe to them that then giues sucke he sayes,
And lulles their Infants on their tender knees,
More woe to them that be with child those dayes,
Wherein shalbe such extreame miseryes:
Thou mightst haue shund these plagues hadst thou bin wise
Which now for sinne is hidden from thy eyes.
This dreadfull Prophesie spoken by our Lord,
The stubborne people naught at all regarded,
Whose Adamantine heartes did still accord,
To follow sinne, whhich was with shame rewarded:
They flouted him for telling of this storie,
And crucifide inspite the Lord of glorie.


Reprochfully they fleered in his face,
That wept for them in tender true compassion,
They wrought his death and did him all disgrace,
That sought their life, and waild their desolation:
Their hardened heartes beleeu'd not what was said,
Vntill they saw the siege about them layd.
Full fortie yeares after Christes passion,
Did these proud people liue in peace and rest,
Whose wanton eyes seeing no alteration,
Christs words of truth, they turned to a iest:
But when they thought themselues the surest of all,
Lo then began their neuer raised fall.
Their mounting minds that towred past their strength
Scorning subiection to the Romaine state,
In boyling hatred loath'd their Lords at length,
Dispis'd the Emperour with a deadly hate:
Reiecting his authoritie each howre,
Sought to expell the pride of forraine power.
Which foule contēpt the Emperours wrath inflam'd,
Mightie Vespatian hot reueng did threat,
But all in vaine they would not be reclaim'd,
Relying on their strength and courage great:
And hereupon began the deadly iarre,
And after followed bloody wofull warre,


The signes and tokens shewed before the destruction, alluring the Iewes to repentance, and their little regard thereof, interpreting all things to be for the best, flattering themselues in their sinnes.

Yet marke the mercy of our gracious God,
Before the grieuous scourge to them was sent,
That they might shun his heauie smarting rod,
And hartely their filthy faultes repent:
Strange signes and wonders did he shew them still,
Fore-runners of their ruine woe, and ill.
For one whole yeare as well by day as night,
A blazing starre appeared in the skie,
Whose bushie tayle was so excelling bright,
It dim'd the glory of the sunns faire eye,
And euery one that on this obiect gazed,
At sight thereof stood wonderous sore amazed.
In right proportion it resembled well,
A sharp two edged sword of mighty strength,
The percing poynt a needle did excell,
And sure it seem'd a miracle for length:
So strange a starre before was neuer seene,
And since that time the like hath neuer been.


And ouer right that goodly famous Cittie,
Hung still this dreadfull apparition,
Which might haue mou'd had they bin gracious witty,
For outward follies, inward hearts contrition:
And neuer did that wonder change his place,
But still Ierusalem with woe menace.
The wondring people neuer lookt thereon,
But their mistrusting heart suspected much,
Saying great plagues would follow thereupon,
Such priuie motions did their conscience touch:
But other-some would say it was not so,
But signe that they their foes would ouerthrow.
Thinke not quoth they that Iacobs God will leaue,
The blessed seed of Abraham in distresse,
First shall his Sword the heathens liues bereaue,
As by this token he doth plaine expresse,
His fierie sword shall shield this holy towne,
And heaw in heapes the proudest Romains downe.
Thus flattered they themselues in sinfull sort,
Their harts were hard, their deepest iudgmēts blinded
What godly teachers did to them report,
They soone forgot, such things they neuer minded:
Their chiefest study was delight and pleasure,
And how they might by all meanes gather treasure


Men would haue thought this warning had bin faire,
When God his standard gainst them did aduance,
His flagge of Iustice waued in the ayre,
And yet they count it, but a thing of chance:
This bad them yeild, and from their sinnes conuart,
But they would not till sorrow made them smart.
Then in the ayre God shewed another wonder,
When azurd skies were brightest faire and cleere,
An hoast of armed men, like dreadfull thunder,
With hidious clamours, fighting did appeare:
And at each other eagerly they ran,
With burnisht Falchions murdering many a man.
And marching fiercely in their proud aray,
Their wrathfull eyes did sparkle like the fier,
Or like inraged Lyons for their pray,
So did they striue, in nature and desire:
That all the plaine wherein they fighting stood,
Seem'd to mens sight all staind with purple blood.
This dreadfull token many men amazed,
When they beheld the vncouth sight so strange,
On one another doubtfully they gazed,
With fearefull lookes their coulour quite did change:
Yet all, they did interpret to the best,
Thinking themselues aboue all other blest.


The conquering sort that did with warlike hand,
Suppresse the other in the bloudy field,
Declares quoth they that Iudaes sacred band,
Shall make vnhallowed Romaines die or yeeld:
And ouer them we shall haue honour great,
That proudly now vsurpes King Davids seat.
See how the Divell doth sinfull soules beguile,
Filling the same with vaine imagination,
Thinking themselves cock-sure, when al the while,
They stand vpon the brink of desolation:
All faithfull Christians warning take by this,
Interpret not Gods fearfull signes amisse.
Yet loe the Lord would not giue ouer so,
But to convert them, if that it might bee,
Hee doth proceed more wonders yet to show,
All to reclayme them from iniquitie:
That so he might remoue his plagues away,
Which threatned their destruction every day.
The Temple gates all made of shining brasse,
Whose massie substance was exceeding great,
Which they with yron barres each night did crosse,
And lockt with brazen bolts, which made them sweat,
Did of themselues start open and vndoe,
Which twenty men of might could scant put to.


Vpon a day most high and festiuall,
The high Priest went after a sacred manner,
Into the glorious Temple most maiesticall,
To offer sacrifice their God to honour:
What time the Lord a wonder did declare,
To all mens sight, prodigious, strange, and rare.
A goodly Calfe prepar'd for sacrifice,
And layd vpon the holy Alter there,
Brought forth a Lambe most plaine before their eyes,
Which filled some mens hearts with sodaine feare:
And sore perplext the passions of their mind,
To see a thing so farre against all kind.
Soone after this they heard a wailefull voice,
Which in the Temple shreeking thus did say,
Let vs go hence, and no man heere reioyce,
Thus figuring foorth their ruine and decay,
All men did heare these speeches very plaine,
But saw nothing, nor knew from whence it came.
And foure yeares space before the bloody fight,
One Ananias had a youthfull sonne,
Which like a Prophet cried day and night
About the streets as he did go and runne:
Shewing the people without dread at all,
Most wofull plagues should on the Cittie fall.


And in this sort began his dolefull cry:
A fearefull voyce proceedeth from the East,
And from the West, as great a voyce did fly,
A voyce likewise from blustering winds addrest:
A voyce vpon Ierusalem shall goe,
A voyce vpon the Temple full of woe.
A mournefull voyce on wretched man and wife,
A voyce of sorrow on the people all,
Woe and destruction, mortall war and strife,
Bitter pinching famine, misery and thrall:
In euery place these threatnings still he had,
Running about like one distraught and mad.
With lofty voyce thus ran he through the towne,
Nor day and night did he his clamours cease,
No man could make him lay these threatnings downe
By no intreaty would he hould his peace:
Although he was in Dungeon deeply layd,
Yet there his cryes did make them more afraid.
The Maiestrates that most forbad his crie:
And saw his bouldnesse more and more arise,
With grieuous scourges whipt him bitterly,
Yet came no teares out of his pleasant eyes:
The more his stripes, the higher went his voyce
In forest torment did he most reioyce.


But when the Iewes perceau'd how he was bent,
And that their eares were cloyed with his cries,
They counted it but sportfull merriment,
A nine dayes wonder that in short time dyes:
So that a fresh their follies they begin,
And for his speech they passed not a pin.
But as the holy Scriptures doe bewray,
To dainty cheere they iocondly sat downe,
And well refresht, they rose againe to play,
In smiling sort when God did fircely frowne:
And neuer more to mirth were they diposed,
Then when the Lord his wrath to them disclosed.

The tydings brought of the enimies appoach, and the feare of the citizens: their provisiō of victuals for twenty yeares burnt in one night, by one of their owne captaines, of meere malice, which caused a sodaine dearth to follow: their seditiō and diuisiō betweene thēselues while the cittie was besieged.

Bvt whilst that they their sugred Iunkets tasted,
Vnto the Citty came a tyred post,
Full weake and wearie, and with trauell wasted,
Who brought thē word their foes were on their coast:
Which whē they knew, their merriments were dashed
These dolefull newes made them full sore abashed.


Three Cipres Tables then to ground they throw,
Their siluer dishes, and their cups of gould,
For haste to meet the proud inuading foe,
Feare makes them mad, but courage makes thē bould:
And to defend the brunt of future harmes,
They leaue their Ladies and imbrace their Armes.
Instead of Lutes and sweete resounding Vials,
They sound the Trumpet and the ratling drum,
Their barbed Steeds they put to diuers tryals,
How they can manage, stop, carrie, and run:
Their cunning harpers now must harnesse beare,
Their nimble dauncers war-like weapons weare.
But ere their wrathfull foes approached neere,
The store-houses the Gouerners did fill,
With wholsome victuals which for twenty yeare
Would serue two hundred thousand cast by bill,
But all the same by one seditious Squire
Was in one night consum'd with flaming fire.
For why the Cittizens to discord fell,
So giddy headed were they alwaies found,
And in their rage like furious fiends of hell,
In murdering sort they did each other wound:
And when they entred in this diuellish strife,
They spared neither Infant, man, nor wife.


Into three parts the people were deuided,
And one against an other hatred bore,
The chiefest sort sediciously were guided,
Whereby vnciuell mutines vext them sore:
So that the sorrow of the forreine warre,
Was nothing to their bloody ciuill iarre.
And so malicious did their rancor rise,
That they the holy Temple did defile,
All such as came to offer sacrifice,
They murdered straight, remorce they did exile:
The Sacrificer with the sacrifice,
Both bath'd in blood, men saw before their eyes.
Thus did they make the sacred Temple there,
The slaughter house of many a humane soule,
So that the marble pauement euery where,
was blacke with blood like to a butchers bowle:
And with the fat of men so slippery made,
That there for falling, none could goe vnstayd.
And by this wicked meanes it came to passe,
The streets and temple full of dead-men lay,
With wounds putrified, where buriall was,
Which rais'd a grieuous pestilence that day:
So hot, and fell, that thereof dyed a number,
Whose foule infection all the towne did cumber.


And that which was more heauie to behold,
As men and woemen past along the street:
Their weeping eyes did to their hearts vnfold,
A mappe of Murder at their trembling feete
Some saw their Fathers fetching deadly groanes,
Some their Husbands braines scattered on the stōes
Here lay a woman stabbed to the heart,
There a tender Infant one a souldiers speare,
Strugling with death, and sprawling with each part:
The channels ran with purple blood each wheare
A thousand persons might you daily see,
Some gasping, groaning bleeding fresh to bee.
Lo, all this mischiefe was within the towne
Wrought twixt thēselues in wonderous hatefull sort,
While noble Tytus beat their bulwarkes downe,
And at their walles did shew them warlike sport:
But by distresse to bring them vnto thrall,
He brake their pipes, and stopt their cundits all.


A description of the horrible Famine within the Cittie of Ierusalem.

For true report rung in his royall eares,
That bitter Famine did afflict them sore,
Which was the cause of many bitter teares,
And he to make their miserie the more,
Depriu'd them quit of all their water cleere,
Which in their want they did esteeme so deere.
Alack, what pen is able to expresse?
The extreame miserie of this people then?
Which were with Famine brought to great distresse,
For cruell hunger vext the welthiest men:
When night approacht, well might they lye & winke,
But cold not sleepe for want of meat and drinke.
For by this time full Fourteene monthes and more,
Had warlike Titus sieg'd that famous towne,
What time the Iewes had quite consum'd their store,
And being staru'd, like Ghosts went vp and downe:
For in the markets were no victuals found,
Though for a Lambe, they might haue twenty pound.


When bread was gone, then was he counted blest,
That in his hand had either cat or dogge,
To fill his emptie maw: and thus distrest,
A dozen men would fight for one poore frogge,
The fairest Lady lighting one a mouce,
Would keepe it from her best friend in the house.
A weazell was accounted daynty meate,
A hissing snake esteem'd a Princes dish,
A Queene vpon a moule might seeme to eate,
A veanom neawt was thought a wholesome fish:
Wormes from the earth, were dig'd vp great & small,
And poysoned spiders eaten from the wall.
A hundred men vnder this grieuous crosse,
With hunger-starued bodies wanting food,
Haue for a morsell of a stinking horse,
In deadly strife, shed one an others blood.
Like famisht Rauens, that in a shole doe pitch,
To seaze a caryon in a noysome ditch.
But when these things, were all consumed quite,
(For famines greedy mawe destroyeth all,)
Then did they bend, their study day and night,
To see what next vnto their share might fall:
Necessitie doth seeke an hundred wayes,
Famines fell torment from the heart to rayse.


Then did they take their horses leather raignes,
And broyling them suppos'd thē wonderous sweete,
A hungry stomack naught at all refraines,
Nor did they spare their shooes vpon their feete:
But shooes, and bootes, and buskins, all they eate,
And would not spare one morsell of their meate.
But out alas my heart doth shake to show,
When these things fail'd, what shift these wretches made,
Without salt teares how should I write their woe,
Sith sorrowes ground-worke in the same is layd:
All English hearts which Christ in armes doe hem
Marke well the woes of fayre Ierusalem.
When all was spent, and nothing left to eate,
Whereby they might maintaine their feeble life,
Then doth the wife her husband deere intreat,
To end her misery by his wounding knife:
Maides weepe for foode, & children make their moāe,
Their parents sigh when they can giue them none.
Some men with hunger falleth raging mad,
Gnawing the stones and timber where they walke,
Some other staggering, weake and wonderous sad,
Dyes in the streetes, as with their friends they talke?
And other some licks vp the vomit fast,
Which their sick neighbours in their houses cast.


Nay more then this, though this be all to much,
Iosephus writes, that men and maidens young
The which of late did scorne brown-bread to touch,
Sustain'd themselues with one an others doong.
Remember this you that so dainty bee,
And praise Gods name for all things sent to thee.
All things were brought by famine out of frame,
For modest Chastitie to it gaue place,
High honoured Virgins that for very shame,
Would hardly looke on men with open face,
One bit of beead neuer so course and browne,
Would winne them to the foulest knaue in towne.

The seditious Captaines Schimion & Iehocanā search all the houses in the Citty for Victuals, they take from a noble Lady all her prouision, leauing her and her Sonne comfortlesse, shewing the great moane she made.

The curst seditious Captaines and their crue,
When they perceiu'd the famine grow so great,
In all mens houses would they search, and view,
In euery corner both for bread and meat:
If any did their bould request denie,
On murdering swords they were right sure to dye.


Among the rest where they a searching went,
Vnto a gallant Ladyes house they came,
And there before her victuals quite was spent,
With hardened hearts, and faces void of shame:
They tooke her store with many a bitter threat,
And left her not one bit of bread to eate.
The noble Lady on her tender knees,
With floods of teares distilling from her eyes,
Their crueltie when she so plainely sees,
In mournefull sort vnto them thus she cries:
Vpon a wofull Lady take some pittie,
And let not famine slay me in this Cittie.
Of all the store which you haue tooke away,
Leaue on browne loafe, for my poore child and me:
That we may eat but one bit in a day,
To saue our liues from extreame misery.
Thus holding vp her lillie hands she cried,
The more she crau'd the more she was denied.
If you quoth she cannot afford me bread,
One dried stock-fish doe one me bestow,
For my poore Infants life I greatly dread,
If thus distrest you leaue me when you goe:
Braue men of might, shew pittie for his sake,
And I thereof a thousand meales will make.


O call to minde my childe is nobly borne,
Of honorable blood and high degree,
Then leaue vs not braue Captaines thus forlorne,
Your countries friend one day this child may bee:
O let me not this gentle fauour misse,
I may one day requite far more then this.
Then answered they in harsh and churlish sort,
Tut tell not vs of honourable state,
And if thou wilt we'l cut thy Infants throat,
So shall he neede no meate, then cease to prate:
Men must haue meate, let children dye and starue,
Yf we want foode, in warres how can we serue.
With bended browes they stroue to get away
But she vpon her knees did follow fast,
And taking hould on their confus'd aray,
This sad complaint from her hearts pallace past:
Renouned Lords, our Citties sure defence,
O let me speake once more, ere you goe hence.
Yf you lack money, see I haue good store,
Wherein great Cesars Image is portrayde,
Therefore of gift, I will demaund no more,
To buy me some foode, let me not be denayd.
For fiue red herrings, ten Crownes shall you haue,
Ile pay it downe, with vantage if you craue.


That damned coyne quoth they wee doe detest,
And therewithall thy selfe, which all this while,
Hast kept our foes foule picture in thy chest,
Which seekes this holy Citty to defile:
Thou getst no foode, and therefore hold thy toungue
Hang, starue, & dye, thou canst not dye more young.
O pardon yet (quoth she) my earnest speech,
Doe not my words to poyson so conuert,
Take heere my chaine, I humbly doe beseech,
Of pearle and Diamonds for one silly sprat:
One sprat (sweete men) cast vpon the ground,
For this faire chaine, which cost a thousand pound.
Talke not to vs, quoth they of Iems and chaines,
Of Diamonds, Pearls or precious rings of Gould,
One sprat to vs is sweeter gotten gaines,
Then so much siluer, as this house can hold:
Gould is but drosse, where hunger is so great,
Hard hap hath hee, that hath but gould to eate.
With that the testie Souldiers get them out,
Proud of the purchast pray which they had got,
The woefull Ladye did they mocke and flout,
Her plaints and teares regarding not a iott:
Shee sighes they smile, she mournes, and they reioyce,
And of their pray they make an equall choyce,


But Megar famine couetous of all,
Enuying those that should thereof haue part,
In sharing out there purchasse bread a brawle,
Wherein one stabd the other to the heart:
This fellow said the other did deceiue him,
He swore againe enough they did not leaue him.
Lo thus about the victuals they did fight,
Looke who was strongest bore away the prize,
And for a crust of bread, in dead of night,
They cut their Fathers throats in wofull wise:
The mother would her childrens victuals snatch,
And from his wife, the husband he did catch.

How the noble Lady and her young Sonne went to out the dung of beasts to eate, being ready to dye with hunger, and could finde none: shewing what moane they made comming home without,

Bvt now of Miriams sorrow will I speake,
Whom the seditious Souldiers so distrest,
Her noble heart with girfe was like to breake,
No kind of foode had she, then to reliue her,
With gnawing hunger was she, sore opprest
Nor for her child: which most of all did grieue her.


Alas quoth shee that euer I was borne,
To see these gloomie daies of griefe and care,
whome this false world hath mede an open scorne,
Fraught full of miserie passing all compare:
Blest had I been if in the painefull birth,
I had receiu'd sweete sentence of my death.
Why hath the partiall heauens prolong'd my life,
Aboue a number of my deerest friends,
Whose blessed soules did neuer see the strife,
How happy were they in their happy ends:
Great God of Abraham heare my mournefull crie,
Soone rid my life or end this miserie.
With that her little sonne with eager looke,
Vnto his wofull mother crying came,
His pretty hands fast hold vpon her tooke,
Whose presence brought, her praying out of frame:
And to his Mother thus the child did say,
Giue mee some meate, that eat nothing to day.
I am (deere Mother) hungry at the heart,
And scalding thirst, makes me I cannot speake,
I feele my strength decay in euery part,
One bit of bread, for me good Mother breake,
My lesson I haue learnd, where you did lay it,
Then giue me some what: you shall heere me say it.


The sighing Ladie looking quite a-side,
With many sobs sent from her wofull soule,
Wroung both her hands, but not one word replide,
Sighes stopt her toung, teares did her tongue cōtroul,
Sweete Lady mother, mother speake (quoth he?)
O let me not with hunger murdered bee.
Deere child she said, what wouldst thou haue of me?
Art thou a thirst, then come and drinke my teares,
For other succour haue I none for thee,
The time hath been, I could haue giuen thee peares:
Rose coulered apples, cherries for my child,
But now alas, of all wee are beguild.
But come quoth she, giue me thy little finger,
And thou and I will to the back-yard goe,
And there seeke out a Cow-cake For thy dinner,
How saist thou sonne art thou contented so?
The ioyfull child did hereat giue a smile,
When both his eyes with water ran the while.
Then vp and downe with warie searching eye,
In euery place for beasts dung doth she seeke,
As if a long lost Iewell there did lye,
Close hidden in some narrow chink or creeke:
When she lookt and nought at all had found,
Then downe she coucheth on the sluttish ground.


And with her faire white fingers fine and small,
She scrapes away the dust and draffe togeather,
and so doth search through out the Oxes stall,
For dung or hoofes, or some old peece of leather:
But when in vaine her paines she did bestow,
She paid her heart the interest of her woe.
And lifting vp with sorow her bright eyes,
She cald her little Sonne to come away,
Who sought as fast for spiders, wormes and flies,
As she for Ordure mongst the mouldy nay,
O stay a while good mother did he cry,
For heere euen now I did a maggot spie.
At which sweete sight my teeth did water yet,
Euen as you cald, she fell her in the dust,
An hower were well spent, this prize to get,
To let her slip, I thinke I was accurst:
My hungry stomacke, well it would haue stayd,
And I haue lost her I am sore affraid.
I, I, my Sonne, it may be so (quoth shee,)
Then come away: let vs togeather dye,
Our lucklesse starres alots it so to be,
Peace my sweete boy, alack why dost thou cry,
Had I found any thing, thou shouldst haue seen,
That therewithall we would haue merry been,


Then be thou still (my sonne) and weepe no more,
For with my teares, thou kilst my wounded heart,
Thy neede is great, my hunger is as sore,
Which grieues my soule, and pinches euery part:
Yet hope of helpe alack I know not any,
Without, within, our foes they are so many.
Deare mother heare me one word and no moe,
See heere my foote so slender in your sight,
Giue me but leaue to eate my little toe,
No better supper will I aske to night:
Or else my thumbe: a morsell small you see,
And these two ioynts, me thinks may spared be.
My sonne quoth she great are thy cares God wot,
To haue thy hungry stomack fil'd with food,
Yet all be it we haue so hard a lot,
Dismember not thy selfe for any good:
No brutish beast, will doe so foule a deede,
Then doe not thou gainst nature so proceed,
But O my sonne, what shall I doe quoth she;
My griefe of hunger is as great as thine,
And sure no hope of comfort doe I see,
But we must yeild our selues to starue and pine:
The wrath of God doth siege the Citty round,
And we within fell famine doth confound.


The sword without, intends our desolation,
Consuming pestilence destroyeth heere within,
Ciuell dissention breedes our hearts vexation,
The angry heauens, the same hath sent for sinne,
Murders, and ruine through our streetes doe run,
Then how can I feede thee, my louing sonne?
Yf pale fac't famine take away my life,
Why then, with whome should I trust thee my sonen
Far heer's no loue, but hate and deadly strife,
Woe is that child, whose parents dayes are done:
One thee sweete boy no person would take pitty,
For milde compassion, hath forsooke the citty.
Once I retaynd, this ioyfull hope of thee,
When ripened yeares, brought thee to mans estate,
That thou shouldst be a comfort vnto me,
Feeding my age, when youthfull strength did bate:
And haue my meate my drinke and cloth of thee,
Fit for a Lady of so high degree.
And when the span length, of my life was done,
That God and nature, claim'd of me their due,
My hope was then, that thou my louing Sonne,
In Marble stone, my memorie should renew:
And bring my corpes, with honour to the graue,
The latest dutie, men of children craue,


But now I see (my sweete and bonny boy)
This hope is fruitlesse, and these thoughts are vaine,
I see grim death, hath seaz'd my earthly ioy,
For famines dart hath thee already slaine:
Thy hollow eyes and wrinckled cheekes declare,
Thou art not markt, to be thy Fathers heire.
Looke on thy legges, fee all thy flesh is gone,
Thy tollie thighes, are fallen quite away,
Thy armes, and handes, nothing but skin, and bone
How weake thy heart is, thou thy selfe canst say:
I haue no foode, to strengthen thee (my child,)
And heere thy buriall would be too too vilde.
Wherefore my Sonne least vgly Rauens and Crowes,
Should eate thy carcasse in the stincking streetes,
Thereby to be a scorne vnto our foes,
And gaule to me, that gaue thee many sweets:
I haue prepaird, this my vnspotted wombe,
To be for thee an honourable Tombe.
Then sith thou canst not liue to be a man,
What time thou mightst haue fed thy aged mother,
Therefore my child it lyes thee now vpon,
To be my foode, because I haue no other:
With my one blood, long time I nourisht thee,
Then with thy flesh, thou oughtst to cherish mee.


Within this wombe thou first receiuedst breath,
Then giue thy mother, that which she gaue thee,
Here hadst thou life, then lye here after death,
Sith thou hadst beene, so welbeloude of me:
In spight of foes, be thou my dayly food,
And saue my life, that can doe thee no good,
In blessed Eden shall thy soule remaine,
While that my belly is thy bodyes graue,
There is no taste of famine woe or paine
But ioyes eternall, more then heart can craue:
Then who would wish, in sorrow to perseuer,
That by his death might liue in heauen for euer.

The Lady with hunger is constrayned to kill her best beloued and onely Sonne, and eate him: whose body she Roasted.

VVhen this was said, her feeble child she tooke,
And with a sword which she had lying by,
She thrust him through turning away her looke,
That her wet eyes might not behold him die:
And when sweete life was from his body fled,
A thousand times she kist him being dead.


His milke white body staind with purple blood,
She clensd and washt with siluer dropping teares,
Which being done, she wipte it as she stood,
With nothing else, but her faire golden haires:
And when she saw, his litle lims were cold,
She cut him vp, for hunger made her bold.
In many peeces did she then deuide him,
Some part she sod, some other part she rosted,
Frō neighbours sight she made great shift to hide him,
And of her cheere, in heart she greatly bosted:
Ere it was ready, she began to eate,
And from the spit, pluckt many bits of meate.

The smell of the meate is felt round about: the seditious Captaine therevpon came to the Lady, and threatens to kill her for meate. Wherevpon the Lady, sets part before them.

The sent thereof was straight smelt round about,
The neighbour then out of their houses ran,
Saying, we smell roast-meat out of all doubt,
Which was great wonder vnto euery man:
And euery one like to a longing wife,
In that good cheer did wish his sharpest knife.


This newes so swift, in each mans mouth did flie,
The proud seditious, heard thereof at last,
Who with all speed, vnto the house did hye,
And at the doores and windowes knocked fast:
And with vilde words & speeches rough and great,
They askt the Lady, where she had that meat.
Thou wicked woman how comes this quoth they?
That thou alone hast roast-meat in the towne?
While we with griping famine dye each day,
Which are your Lords, and leaders of renowne:
For this contempt, we thinke it right and reason,
Thou shouldst be punisht as in case of treason.
The louely Lady trembling at their speech,
Fearing their bloody hands and cruell actions,
With many gentle words, did them beseech,
They would not enter into further factions:
But listen to her words and she would tell,
The certaine truth, how euery thing befell.
Be not she said, at your poore hand-maid grieued,
I haue not eaten all in this hard case,
But that your selues might something be relieued,
I haue kept part to giue you in this place:
Then sit you downe, right welcome shall you be,
And what I haue, your selues shall tast and see.


With diligence the Table then she layde,
And siluer trenchers, on the boord she set,
A golden salt, that many ounces wayde,
And Damask napkins, dainty, fine, and neate:
Her guests were glad to se this preparation,
And at the boord they sat with contentation,
In massie siluer platters brought she forth,
Her owne Sonnes flesh whom she did loue so deere,
Saying my maisters take this well in worth,
I pray be merry: looke for no other cheere:
See here my childs white hand, most finely drest,
And here his foote, eate where it likes you best.
And doe not say this child was any others,
But my owne Sonne: whome you so well did know,
Which may seeme strange, vnto all tender Mothers,
My owne childes flesh, I should deuoure so:
Him did I beare, and carefully did feed,
And now his flesh sustaines me in my need.
Yet allbeit this sweet relieuing feast,
Hath dearest beene to me that ere I made,
Yet niggardize I doe so much detest,
I thought it shame, but there should some be layde,
In store for you: although the store be small,
For they are gluttons which consumeth all.


Herewith she burst into a flood of teares,
Which downe her thin pale cheekes distilled fast,
Her bleeding heart, no sobs nor sighes forbeares,
Till her weake voyce breath'd out these words at last:
O my deere Sonne, my pretty boy (quoth she)
While thou didst liue, how sweet wast thou to me?
Yet sweeter farre, a thousand times thou art,
To thy poore mother, at this instant howre,
My hungry stomake hast thou eas'd of smart,
And kept me from the bloody Tyrants power,
And they like friends doe at my table eat,
That would haue kild me for a bit of meate.
When this was said, wiping her watery eyes,
Vnto her self, fresh courage then she tooke,
And all her guests, she welcom'd in this wise,
Casting on them, a courteous pleasant looke:
Be mery friends, I pray you doe not spare.
In all this towne, is not such noble fare.


The Captaines and their company were so amazed at sight of the childs limbes being by his mother set vpon the table in platters, that wondring thereat, they would not eat a bite, for the which the Lady reproues them.

The men amazed at this vncouth sight,
One to another cast a steadfast eye,
Their hard remorcelesse hearts full fraught with spight
Were herewithall appalled sodenly,
And though their extreame hunger was full great,
Like sencelesse men they sat and would not eate.
O why quoth she doe you refraine this food,
I brought it forth vnto you for good will,
Then scorne it not (deere friends) for it is good:
And I euen now did thereof eate my fill:
Tast it therefore and I dare sweare you'l say,
You eate no meate, more sweete this many a day.
Hard hearted woman, cruell and vnkind
Canst thou (quoth they) so frankly feed of this?
A thing more hatefull did wee neuer finde,
Then keepe it for thy tooth, loe there it is.
Most vild and odious is it in our eye,
Then feed on mans flesh, rather would wee dye.


Alack quoth she, doth foolish pitty mooue ye,
Weaker then a womans, is your hearts become,
I pray fall too, and if that you doe loue me,
Eate where you will, and ile with you eat some
What greater shame to Captaines can befall,
Then I in courage should surpasse you all,
Why, wast not you, that did with many a threats,
Charge me with eager lookes to lay the cloth:
And as I lou'd my life to bring you meate,
And now to eate it doe you seeme so loath?
More fit I should, then you, heerewith be moued,
Since twas his flesh whom I so deerly loued.
It was my sonne and not yours that is slaine.
Whose roasted limbes lies here within the platter,
Then more then you I ought his flesh refraine,
And ten times more be greeued at this matter,
How chance you are more mercifull then I,
To spare his flesh, while you for hunger dye.
Yet blame not me for this outragious deed,
For wast not you that first did spoyle my house?
And rob me of my food in my great need,
Leauing not behind a ratt or silly mouse:
Then you alone are authors of this feast,
What need you then this action so detest?


The starued Iewes hearing this dolefull tale,
Were at the matter smitten in such sadnesse,
That man by man with visage wan and pale,
Dropt out of dores, accusing her of madnesse,
And noting well, their famine, warre and strife,
Wisht rather death, than length of mortall life.
And hereupon, much people of the Citty,
Fled to the Romaines secret in the night,
Vpon their knees desiring them for pitty
To saue their liues, that were in wofull plight,
And finding mercie, tolde when that was done,
How famine forc't a Lady eate her Sonne.

Tytus the Romaine Generall wept at the report of the famine in Ierusalem, especially when he heard of the Mother that did eate her Childe.

The Romaine Generall hearing of the same,
Tytus I meane, Vespasians famous Sonne,
So grieu'd thereat, that griefe did teares constraine,
Which downe his manly cheekes did streaming runne
And holding vp to heauen his hands and eyes
To this effect, vnto the Lord he cries.


Thou mighty God, which guides this mortall round,
That all hearts secrets sees, and knowes my heart,
Witnesse thou canst, I came not to confound,
This goodly Cittie: or to worke their smart:
I was not author of their bloudie iarrs,
But offred peace, when they imbraced wars.
These eighteene moneths, that I with warlike force,
Besieged their Cittiy: (Lord thou knowest it well,)
My heart was full of mercy and remorce,
And they alwayes did stubbornely rebell:
Therfore good Lord, with their most hatefull rage,
And wondrous deeds do not my conscience charge
My eyes doe see, my heart doth likewise pity,
The great calamitie that they are in,
Yet Lord, except thou wilt yeeld me the Cittie,
I'le raise my power, and not behold more sinne:
For they with famine are become so wilde,
That hunger made a woman eate her childe.
When Noble Titus thus had made his moane,
All those that from Ierusalem did fly:
He did receaue to mercy every one,
And nourisht famisht men at poynt to dye:
But cruell Schimion that seditious Iewe,
And Proud Iehocanan, more mischiefe still did brew.


For albeit braue Tytus by his power,
And warlike Engines, brought vnto that plece,
Had layde their strong walles, flat vpon the flower,
And done their Citty, wonderfull disgrace.
Yet stubbornly they did resist him still,
such place they gaue, to their seditious will.

Tytus ouerthrowing the walls of Ierusalem enters the Cyty and Temple with his power burning downe the siluer gate thereof, which led the way to the Sanctum Sanctorū: and setteh Souldiers to keepe it from further hurt.

About that time with wonderous dilligence,
They rais'd a wall, in secret of the night,
Which then was found their Citties best defence,
For to withstand the conquering Romaines might:
which once rac't the Citty needs must yeeld,
And Iewes giue place to Romaines sword and shield,
Renowned Tytus well perceiuing this,
To his best proued Captaines, gaue a charge,
That new rais'd wall, the Iewes supposed blis,
Should scattered be, with breaches wide and large:
And hervpon, the troopes togither met,
And to the walles, their battering Engines set.


The feare of this, made many a Iewish Lord,
That ioynde themselues with the seditious traine,
To steale away, and all with one accord,
At Tytus feete, sought mercie to obtaine:
Whose milde submission, he accepted then,
And gaue them honour, mong'st his noble men.
By this, the mellow wall was broke and scaled,
With fierce allarms, the holy towne was entred,
Romaines tooke courage, but the Iewes harts failed,
Thousands lost their liues, which for honour ventred:
Schimion, Iehocanan, all did flie for feare,
Iewes mournd, and Romaines triumpht euery where,
The faire Temple, Gods holy habitation,
The worlds non pareli, the heathens wonder,
Their Citties glory, their ioyes preseruation,
To the Romaine power, must now come vnder:
There many Isralites for liues defence,
Had lockt themselues, & would not come from thence
The famous Citty being thus subdued,
The Romaines heads, with glad-sōe baies wer crowned
For blesfull victory on their side ensued,
While on the Iewes the worlds Creator frowned:
The Captaines of the foule seditious rout,
To hide their heades did seeke odd corners out,


The Romaines resting in triumphant state,
Vnto the holy Temple turned their course,
And finding shutthe siluer shining gate,
They fir'd it, retayning no remorce:
And when the fiers flamde did sore abound,
The melting siluer streamd along the ground.
Their timber worke into pale ashes turning,
Downe dropt the goodly gate vpon the flower,
What time the wrathfull Romaines went in running,
Shouting and crying with a mighty power:
The glory of which place, their bright sight drew,
To take thereof a wondring greedy view.
Yet did that place but onely lead the way,
Vnto the holyest place, where once a yeare,
The high Priest went, vnto the Lord to pray,
The figure of whose glory, did there appeare:
Sanctum Sanctorum so that place was called,
Which Tytus wondring mind the most appalled.
Which holy holyest place, when Tytus sawe,
Hauing a view but of the outward part,
So glorious was it that the sight did draw,
A wounderous reuerence in his soule and heart:
And with all meeknesse on his Princely knees,
He honors there the Maiestie he sees.


This place was closed in with goulden gates,
So beautifull and super excellent,
That Princely Tytus and the Romaine states,
Said sure this is Gods house omnipotent:
And therefore Tytus who did loue and feare it,
Cōmanded straightly, no man should come nere it.
And through his Camp he made a proclamation,
That whosoeuer did come neere the same,
He should be hanged vp, without compassion,
Without respect of birth, desert, or fame:
And more, a band of men he there ordained,
To keepe the Temple not to be prophaned.

The seditious set vpon the Romaine guard that kept the Temple, and sodenly slew them: whereupon the Romaine souldiers set fire on the golden gate of Sanctum Sanctorum, and spoyled the holy place with fire. Titus sought to quench it but could not, for which he made great lamentation.

VVhile quiet thus the Romaine prince did ly,
Without mistrust of any bloudy broyle,
Proclaiming pardon, life and liberty,
To euey yeelding soule, in that faire soyle:
A crew of traytorous Iewes, of base condition,
Assayled the Romaine guard, without suspition.


All Tytus gallant Souldiers which he set,
So carefully, the Temple gates to keepe,
Vpon a sodaine, they against them get,
In dead of night, when most were falne a sleepe:
And there without all stay, or further wordes,
Each man they murdered on their drawn swordes.
Not one escap'd their bloody butchering hands,
Which noble Tytus hearing, grieued sore,
And thereon rais'd, his best prepared bandes,
Slaying those Iewes, and many hundreds more.
And with such fury, he pursu'd them still,
That who escapt, fled vp to Syon hill,
But yet the Romaines full of hot reuenge,
For this vilde deede, by wicked Iewes committed,
Troopt to the Temple, with a mighty swinge:
And hauing all things for their purpose fitted:
Did in their rage, set on fiers flame,
Those goodly goulden gates, of greatest fame.
And as the flaming fier gather'd strength,
Great spoyle was practis'd by the Romaine rout,
The melting gould that streamed downe at length,
Did gild the marble pauement round about:
The gates thus burned with a hidious din,
Sanctum Sanctorum Romaines entred in.


Who hauing hereby won their hearts desier,
With mighty shootes they shewed signes of ioy,
While the holy place burnt with flaming fier,
Which did, earthes heauenly paradice destroy:
This woefull sight when Tytus once did see,
He sought to quench it: but it would not be.
For many wicked hands had busie beene,
To worke that holy house all foule disgraces,
Which Tytus would haue sau'd as well was seene,
But it was fier'd in so many places:
That by no meanes the spoyle he could preuent,
Which thing he did most grieuously lament.
He ran about and cri'd with might and maine,
O stay your hands, and saue this house I charge yee,
Fetch water vp, and quench this fire againe,
Or you shall smart, before I doe enlarge yee,
Thus some he threatned, many he intreated:
Till he was hoarse, with that he had repeated.
But when his voyce was gone with crying out,
He drew his sword, and slew the disobedient,
Till faint and weary, running round about,
He sat him downe, as it was expedient:
And there twixt wrath and sorrow he bewayled,
With froward Souldiers, he no more preuayled.


The Priests & Iewes that earst themselues had hidden
Within the compasse of that holy ground,
Against the Romaines fought: and had abidden,
For to defend it many a bleeding wound:
But when they saw, there was no way to fly,
They lept into the fier, and there did die.
So long they fought, vntill the parching fier,
Did burne the clothes, from their sweating backes,
The more they fought, the more was their desier,
For to revenge the Temples wofull wrackes:
They layd about, as long as they could stand;
Or moue a legge, or lift a feeble hand.
And all this while did noble Tytus mourne,
To see Sanctorum spoyled in such sort,
Layde on the ground, there did he tosse and turne:
And smote at such as did to him report,
The woefull ruine of that holy place,
And from his sight, with frownes he did them chace


Titus with great reverence, entred into the Sanctum Sanctorum, and greatly wondred at the beautie thereof, affirming it to be the house of the God of heauen.

The cruell fire having wrought her worst,
When that at length the fury thereof ceast,
Titus arose, all open and vntrust,
Of many teares vnburdned and releast:
With head vncouered, mild and reverently,
Into Sanctorum humbly entred he.
And seeing the glorie and magnificence,
The wondrous beautie of that sacred place,
Which there appeared, for all the vehemence,
The flaming fier made, so long a space:
Tytus did stand amazed at the fight,
When he considered euery thing a right.
And therevpon into this speech he broke,
How came I in this Paradice of pleasure,
This Place Celestiall, may all soules Prouoke,
To scorne the world, and seeke no other treasure:
Doe I from earth ascend by eleuation?
Or see I heauen by divine revelation?


Vndoubtedly the mightie God dwelt here,
This was no mortall creatures habitation,
For earthly Monarkes, it was all to deere,
Fit for none, but him who is our soules saluation:
O earthly heauen or heauenly Saintes receauer,
Thy sweete remembrance shall I keepe for euer.
Now well I wot, no maruell t'was indeed,
The Iewes so stoutly stood in fence of this:
O who could blame them, when they did proceed,
By all deuices to preserue their blis:
Since first I saw the Sunne, I neuer knew,
What heauens ioy ment, till I this place did view.
Nor did the Gentiles, without speciall cause,
From fardest partes both of the East and West,
Send heapes of gold by straight commaund of lawes,
This sacred place with glory to inuest:
For rich and wounderous is this holy seat,
And in mans eye the Maiesty is great.
Far doth it passe the Romaine Temples all,
Yea all the Temples of the world likewise,
They seeme to this like to an Asses stall,
Or like a stie where swine still grunting lies:
Great God of heauen, God of this glorious place,
Plague thou their soules that did thy house deface.


Tytus, thus wearied, gazing vp and downe,
Yet not satisfied, with the Temples sight,
Departed thence, to lodge within the towne:
Things out of frame, to set in order right,
Where while he stayd the stubborne harted Iewes,
Did there most wicked actions dayly vse.
For when they saw that fier had so spoyled,
Sanctum Sanctorum in such pitious sort,
Their diuillish harts that still with mischiefe broyled,
The treasure houses all, they burnt in sport,
And precious Iewells wheresoeuer they stood.
With all things else that should doe Romaines good.
The rest of the Temple, likewise did they burne,
In desperàt manner, without all regard:
Which being wrought, away they did returne,
But many scapt not, without iust reward;
The Romaine Souldiers, quickly quencht the fier,
And in the Temple wrought their heartes desire.
Where they set vp, their heathen Idolls all,
Their sence-lesse Images, of wood and stone,
And at their feete, all prostrate did they fall,
Their offering sacrifice to them alone:
In plaine derision of the conquered sort,
Of whom the Romaines made a mocking sport,


A false Prophet arose among the Iewes, telling them that the Temple should againe be builded by it selfe, with out the helpe of mans hand, willing therefore to destroy the Romaines: which they going about to doe, brought further sorrow vpon themselues.

A false and lying Prophet then arose,
Among the Iewes, at faire Ierusalem,
Which then an absurd fancie did disclose,
Among them all, who thus incourag'd them:
Most valiant Iewes play you the men and fight,
And God will shew a wonder in your sight.
Against the cursed Romaines turne againe,
And beate the boasting heathen to the ground,
For God will shew vnto your sights most plaine,
His mightie power: if you doe them confound,
The Temple by it selfe shall builded be,
Without mans hand or helpe, most gloriously.
That Iacobs God, thereby may shew his power,
To those proude Romaines: which doe glory so,
In there one strength: tryumphing euery hower,
In this our spoyle, and wofull ouerthrow:
Then fight O Iewes, the temple sanz delay,
Shall by itselfe be builded vp this day.


The wilde seditious beleeuing this lye.
Did set a fresh vpon the Romaine band,
In such fierce sort, that many men did dye,
But yet the Romaines got the vpper hand:
Who in new wakened wrath, that late did sleepe
Slew downe the Iewes like to a sort of sheepe.

Schimion and Iehocanan come to seeke peace with Tytus, but refuse to be in subiection to the Romaines: wherevpon Tytus will shew them no fauour, but presently assayled them with his power, whereupon Schimion and Iehocanans followers by some, and some forsake them, leauing them in distresse: who there-vpon hid them-selues in Caues.

Then came false Schimion and Iehocanan,
Chiefe Captaines, to the seditious trayne,
With many followers, weapned euery man,
Requiring peace, if peace they could obtaine:
To whome Prince Tytus with his chiefest state,
Did thus reply you seeke this thing to late.


How comes it now that yee intreate for life.
After so many mischeiefes by you wrought,
When you haue slaine and murthered man and wife,
And thousand thousands to destruction brought:
Who then as faint as euer he could stand,
Came to submit himselfe, to Tytus hand.
How oft haue I intreated you to peace,
And offered mercie, without all desert,
When you refusing it, did still increase,
Your trayterous dealings, your chiefest smart:
It pittied me to see your woefull case,
With your innumerable men dead in each place.
How can I pardon these outragious acts,
Your many murders and false sedition,
With diuers other abhominable facts,
For which I see in you, no hearts contrition:
You seeke for peace, yet armed do you stand,
You craue for pardon, with your swords in hand.
First lay a side your swords and weapons all,
And in submissiue manner ask for grace,
So shall you see what fauour may be fall,
Perhaps I may take pitty on your case:
And graciously withall your faults suspence,
And giue you pardon, ere you goe from hence.


With bended browes proud Schimion then did looke,
On gentle Tytus: Iehocanan likewise,
In scornfull manner all his speeches tooke,
And both of them disdainefully replies:
By heauens great God, we both haue sworne quoth they
To make no seruile peace with thee this day.
For neuer shall earths misery prouoke,
Our vndaunted heartes to stoope vnto thy will,
Or bend our neckes vnto the Romaine yoake,
While vital breath our inward parts doth fill:
Then vnto vs this fauour doe expresse,
To let vs part and liue in wildernesse.
At this contempt was Tytus greatly moued,
And doth your pride continue yet quoth he?
Will not your impudency be yet reproued?
Nor yet your stubborne heartes yet humbeld be?
And dare you say that you will sweare and vow,
That to the Romaine yoke you will not bow,
At this his wrath was wounderous sore inflamed,
Who herevpon gaue straight commandement,
By strength of sword to haue those rebels tamed,
On whom the Romaines set incontinent:
Who chac'd the Iewes and scattered them so sore,
That they were found to gather head no more.


For secretly the Iewes from Schimion fled,
By some and some they all forsooke him quite,
With false Iehocanan which so misled,
And forct thē gainst them selues to murderous fight:
Who leauing them, to noble Tytus came,
Desiring grace, who graunted them the same.
Iehocanan and Schiomion seeing this,
They were forsaken, and left post alone,
In their distresse lamented their amisse,
Closse hid in caues, they lay and made their mone:
Where they remained perplext with famine great,
Till they were ready, their owne flesh to eate.

Iehocanan inforced by hunger comes out of his caue & submits him-selfe to Tytus, who caused him to be hanged.

At length out of a deepe darke hollow caue,
With bitter hunger Iehocanan was driuen,
Like to a Ghost new risen from his graue,
Or like Anotamy of all flesh beryuen:
Who then as faint as euer he could stand,
Came to submit himselfe, to Tytus hand.


Into this Princely presence when he came,
With all submission fell he at his feete,
Saying, O King of most renouned fame,
Here am I come as it is right and meete:
To yeeld my selfe into thy Princely hand,
Whose life doth rest, vpon thy great command,
My disobedience, doe I sore repent,
That euer I, refus'd thy offered grace,
Bewayling my lewd life, so badly bent,
And my foule actions, gainst this holy place:
Yet with thy mercy shadow my amisse,
And let me tast what thy compassion is,
Not from my selfe, did all my sinne proceede,
Though I confesse, my faults were too too many,
But was prouokt to many a bloody deede,
By him that yet was neuer good to any:
Blood-thirsty Schimeon, led me to all euill,
Who doth in malice, far exceed the Diuell.
Too long alasse, he ouer-ruld my will,
And made me actor, of a thousand woes,
What I refus'd his outrage did fulfill,
And his deuise, did make my friends my foes:
Then worthy Victor, mittigate my blame,
And let thy glory, ouer-spread my shame.


No more quoth Tytus, stay thy traiterous tounge,
Infect vs not with thy impoysoned breath,
Ile doe thee right that hast done many wrong,
Thy end of sorrow, shall begin thy death:
And by thy death, shall life arise to such,
To whom thou thoughtst, a minutes life too much.
With that he wild his Captaines take him thence,
When he with yron chaines was fettered fast,
And afterward (meete meed for his offence)
Through all the Campe they led him at the last,
That he of them, might mockt and scorned be,
And then in chaines they hangd him one a tree.
This was the end of proud Iehocanan,
That in Ierusalem did such harme,
And this likewise was that accursed man,
That in his malice with a fierce alarme.
Burnd all the Victuals laide in by the Peeres,
That was inough to serue them twenty yeeres.
Which was the cause, that in so short a space,
So great a famine fell within the towne;
Yea this was he burnt, King Agrippaes place,
And in the temple slew so many downe:
But not long after he was gone and dead,
Out of his den did Schimion shew his head.


SCHIMION in like sort being driuen with hunger out of his den, apparelling himselfe in princely attire, desired to be brought before Titus, supposing he would haue saved his life: but he commanded his head to be stricken off, and his body to be cut in peces and cast to the dogges.

Who staring vp and down with feareful lookes,
Least any one were nigh to apprehend him,
Like to a Panther doubting hidden hookes,
That any way might lye for to offend him:
Driuen out with famine, hungry at the hart,
He sought for succour of his earned smart.
And hauing drest himselfe in Kingly tire,
In richest manner that he could deuise,
That men at him might wonder: and desire,
To know what Monarke did from earth arise,
Farre off he walked as it were in boast,
And shewd himselfe vnto the Romaine hoast.
For his great heart could not abid to yeeld,
Though gnawing hunger vext his very soule:
Thus faintly walkt he vp and downe the field
With lofty thoughts: with famine did controule,
Supposing firmely, though he liu'd in hate,
He should finde fauour, for his high estate:


For though (quoth he) I did the Romaines wrong,
Yet in my deeds, I shewed Princely courage,
Beating a heart, that did to honour throng,
And therevpon their Campe so oft did forage,
To haughty acts all Princes honour owes,
For they must thinke that war hath made vs foes.
Considering this, Prince Tytus may be proude,
To such an enemie he may fauour shew,
And herein may his action be allowd,
That magnanimitie he will nourish so:
And by his mercie make a friend of him,
That in his warres so great a foe hath beene.
Which in this honour, hee himselfe did flatter,
Of him the Romaines, had a perfect sight,
And round about him, they themselues did scatter,
Yet were afraid, to come within his might:
And that they fear'd this was the onely reason,
They knew his craft, and doubted hidden treason.
But Schimion seeing, that they shund him so,
He cald vnto them in couragious wise,
Maiestically walking to and fro,
And in this sort, his speech to them applies,
If any gallant Captaine with you be,
Let him approch, and talke one word with me.


With that stept out a braue couragious Knight,
With weapons well prouided euery way,
A noble Romaine of great strength and might,
Who with his weapon drawne these words did say
Tell me, who art thou that in such attire,
Walkes in this place, and what is thy desire?
I am (quoth he) vndaunted Schimeon,
The wrathfull Captaine of seditious Iewes,
That slew the Romaines, in their greatest throng,
The deed whereof I come not to excuse:
Nor doe I passe what you can say thereto,
I am the man made you so much a doe.
Yet let me thus much fauour craue of thee,
As to conduct me to great Tytus sight,
Thy noble friend: but enemie to me,
Yet doubt I not, but he will doe me right:
Bring me to him, what chaunce so ere I finde,
That he may heare, and I may shew my mind.
The Romaine Captaine his request fulfild,
To Tytus royall presence was he brought,
Whose hatefull person, when the Prince beheld,
He did refuse to heare him speake in ought,
Away with him he sayd, let him be bound,
For of all woe this villaine was the ground.


And like a Captiue first let him be led,
About the Camp to suffer scoffes and scornes,
And after that strike of his hatefull head,
The mansion house of mischiefes pricking thornes:
And let his carcase be in peeces torne,
And every gobbet vnto dogges be throwne.
What Titus charg'd was put in execution,
And in this sort was Schimions hatefull end,
Who went to death with wonderous resolution,
Not like a man, but like an hellish fiend:
Thus Titus conquer'd that most pretious Iem,
The beautious Citie faire Ierusalem.

The number of those that had bin slaine at the siege of Ierusalem, and the number of the Prisoners that Titus caried with him to Rome.

The perfect number of the people there,
The which with hunger & with sword was slaine
A leauen hundred thousand did appeare,
As bookes of records did declare it plaine:
Beside all such as did vnburied lye,
And diuers moe that did in fier dye.


And when to Rome the Conquerer went his way,
The number of his prisoners were full great,
Full sixteene thousand men that instant day,
Were carried captiue to the Romaine seate:
Among the rest the man that wrot this story,
Who by his wisedome purchast endlesse glory.
Thus Christs prophesie truely came to passe,
Which Forty yeares before he had expressed,
But with the Iewes of small account it was,
Till they did finde themselues so sore distressed:
He soght their life, his death they wrought with spite.
Wishing his blood on them and theirs to light.
The which according to their owne request,
The Lord in wrath did perfectly fulfil,
There channels ran with blood and did not rest,
Their blood was spilt, that Iesus blood did spill:
God grant we may our hatefull sins forsake,
And by the Iewes a Christian warning take.
FINIS.