Humours Heau'n on Earth With The Ciuile Warres of Death and Fortune. As also The Triumph of Death: Or, The Picture of the Plague, according to the Life, as it was in Anno Domini. 1603. By Iohn Dauies of Hereford |
 |
The Triumph of Death: OR, The Picture of the Plague:
|
 | Humours Heau'n on Earth |  |
220
The Triumph of Death: OR, The Picture of the Plague:
According to the Life, as it was in Anno Domini. 1603.
So, so, iust Heau'ns, so, and none otherwise,
Deale you with those that your forbearaunce wrōg
Dumb Sin (not to be nam'd) against vs cries
Yea, cries against vs with a tempting tong.
And, it is heard; for, Patience oft prouokt
Conuerts to Furies all-consuming flame;
And, fowlest sinne (thogh ne'r so cleanly cloakt)
Breaks out to publike plagues, and open shame!
Ne'r did the Heau'ns bright Eie such sins behold
As our long Peace and Plenty haue begot;
Nor ere did Earths declining proppes vphold
An heauier plague, then this outragious Rot!
Witnesse our Citties, Townes, and Villages,
Which Desolation, day and night, inuades
With Coffins (Cannon-like) on Carriages,
With trenches ram'd with Carkases, with Spades!
A shiu'ring cold (I sensibly do feele)
Glides through my veines, and shakes my hart and hand,
When they doe proue their vertue, to reueale
This plague of plagues, that ouerlades this Land!
Horror stands gaping to deuoure my Sense
When it but offers but to mention it;
And Will abandon'd by Intelligence
Is drown'd in Doubt, without her Pilot Wit!
But, thou, O thou great giuer of all grace,
Inspire my Wit, so to direct my Will,
That notwithstāding eithers wretched case,
They may paint out thy Plagues with grace, with skil,
That so these Lines may reach to future times,
To strike a terror through the heart of Flesh;
And keep It vnder that by Nature climbes,
For, Plagues do Sin suppresse when they are fresh.
And fresh they be, when they are so exprest,
As though they were in being seene of Sense;
Which diuine Poesie performeth best,
For, all our speaking Pictures come from thence!
The obiect of mine outward Sense affords
But too much Matter for my Muse to forme;
Her want (though she had words at will) is words,
T'expresse this Plagues vnvtterable Storme!
Fancie, thou needst not forge false Images
To furnish Wit t'expresse a truth so true;
Pictures of Death stoppe vp all Passages,
That Sēse must needs those obuious obiects view.
If Wit had powre t'expresse what Sense doth see,
It would astonish Sense that heares the same;
For, neuer came there like Mortalitie,
Since Death from Adam to his Children came!
Scarse three times had the Moone replenished
Her empty Horns with light; but th'empty Graue
(Most rauenous) deuoured so the Dead,
As scarse the dead might Christian buriall haue!
Th'Almighties hand that long had, to his paine,
Offer'd to let his Plagues fall, by degrees,
And with the offer pull'd it backe againe,
Now breakes his Viall, and a Plague out-flees,
That glutts the Aire with Vapors venemous,
That puttrifie, infect, and flesh confound,
And makes the Earthes breath most contagious,
That in the Earth and Aire but Death is found!
A deadlie Murraine, with resistlesse force,
Runnes through the Land and leuells All with it!
The Coast it scoured, in vncleanlie Course,
And thousands fled before it to the Pitte!
For, ere the breath of this Contagion,
Could fully touch the flesh of Man, or Beast,
They on the sodaine sinke, and strait are gone,
So, instantlie, by thousands, are decreast!
No Phisicke could be found, to be a meane,
But to allaie their Paine, delaie their Death;
In this Phisitions Haruest, They could gleane
But corrupt Aire and Danger by that Breath.
All Artes and Sciences were at a stand,
And All that liu'd by them, by them did die;
For death did hold their heads, & staid their hād,
Sith they no where could vse their Facultie.
The nursing Mothers of the Sciences
Withdrew their Foster-milke while witt did fast;
For, both our forlorne Vniuersities
Forsaken were and Colledges made fast!
The Magistrates did flie, or if they staid,
They staid to pray, for if they did command,
Hardly, or neuer should they be obaid;
For, Death dares all Authority withstand.
And, wheres no Magistrate, no Order is;
Where Order wants, by order doth ensue
Confusion strait, and in the necke of this
Must silent Desolation all subdue!
For feare wherof, both king, & kingdome shakes,
Sith Desolation threatens them so sore;
All hope of earthly helpe the Land forsakes,
And Heau'n powres plags vpō it more & more!
Now, Death refreshed with a little rest
(As if inspired with the Spirit of Life)
With furie flies (like Aire) throgh man and beast,
And makes eftsoons the murraine much more rife!
London now smokes with vapors that arise
From his foule Sweat, himselfe he so bestirres;
Cast out your Dead, the Carcasse-carrier cries,
Which he, by heaps, in groūdlesse graues interres!
Now scowres he Streets, on either side, as cleane
As smoking showrs of raine the Streets do scowre;
Now, in his Murdring, he obserues no meane,
But tagge and ragge he strikes, and striketh sure.
He laies it on the skinnes of Yong and Old,
The mortall markes whereof therein appeare:
Here, swells a Botch, as hie as hide can hold,
And, Spots (his surer Signes) do muster there!
The South wind blowing frō his swelling cheeks,
Soultry hot Gales, did make Death rage the more,
That on all Flesh to wreake his Wrath he seekes,
Which flies, like chaffe in wind, his breath before!
He raiseth Mountaines of dead carkases,
As if on them he would to Heau'n ascend,
T'asswage his rage on diuine Essences,
When he of Men, on Earth, had made an end.
Nothing but Death alone, could Death suffize,
Who made each Mouse to carry in her Coate
His heauy vengeance to whole Families,
Whilst with blunt Botches he cuts others throate!
And, if such Vermine were thus all imploide,
He would constraine domestike foules to bring
Destruction to their haunts; So, men destroid
As swiftly as they could bestirre their wing!
So, Death might well be said to flie the field,
And in the House foile with resistlesse force,
When he abroad all kinde of Creatures kill'd
That he found liuing in his lifelesse Course!
Now like to Bees, in Summers heate, from Hiues,
Out flie the Citizens, some here, some there;
Some all alone, and others with their wiues:
With wiues and children some flie, All for feare!
Here stands a Watch with guard of Partezans
To stoppe their Passages, or too, or fro;
As if they were nor Men, nor Christians,
But Fiends, or Monsters, murdring as they go!
Like as an Hart, death-wounded, held at Bay
Doth flie, if so he can, from Hunters chase,
That so he may recouer (if he may)
Or else to die in some more easie place.
So, might ye see (deere Heart) some lustie Lad
Strooke with the Plague, to hie him to the field,
Where in some Brake, or Ditch (of either glad)
With plesure, in great paine, the ghost doth yield!
Each Village, free, now stands vpon her guard;
None must haue harbour in them but their owne:
And as for life and death all watch, and ward,
And flie for life (as Death) the man vnknowne!
For, now men are become so monsterous
And mighty in their powre, that with their breath
They leaue no ils, saue goods, from house to house,
But blow away each other from the Earth!
The sickest Sucklings breath was of that force
That it the strongest Giant ouerthrew;
And made his healthie corpse a carrion Corse,
If it (perhaps) but came within his view!
Alarme, alarme, cries Death, downe, downe with All;
I haue, and giue Commission All to kill:
Let not one stand to pisse against a wall,
Sith they are all so good, in works so ill.
Vnioynt the body of their Common-weale,
Hew it in peeces, bring it all to nought;
With Rigors boistrous hand all Bands canceale,
Wherin the heau'ns stād bound to Earth in aught.
Wound me the scalpe of humane Policie,
Sith it would stand without the help of heau'n
On rotten proppes of all impietie;
Away with it, let it be life-bereau'n.
With plagues, strike through Extortions loathed loines,
And riuet in them glowing pestilence:
Giue, giue Iniustice many mortall foynes,
And with a plague, send, send the same frō hence.
Wind me a Botch (huge Botch) about the Necke
Of damn'd disguis'd, man-pleasing Sanctitie:
And Simony with selfe same Choller decke,
Plague these two Plagues with all extremitie.
For, these are Pearles that quite put out the eies
Of Piety in Christian Common-wealths;
These, these are they, from whō all plagues do rise,
Thē plagues on plagues, by right, must reaue their healths.
Dash Veng'āce viall on the cursed brow
Of Zodomy, that euer-crying sinne;
And that it be no more whole Pelions throw
Of plagues vpon it both without, and in!
Throgh black Auernus (hels mouth) send the same
Into the deepest pit of lowest hell;
Let neuer more the nature, nor the name
Be known within the Zones, where mē may dwel,
Oppresse Oppression, this Lands burning-feauer,
With burning sores of feauers-pestilent;
And now or neuer, quell it now and euer,
For, it doth quell the Poore and Innocent
Bring downe damn'd Pride with a pure pestilēce
Deriued from all plagues that are vnpure,
Extracted to th' extreamest quintessence,
For Pride all Sinnes, & plagues for sin, procures.
In Atheismes breast (instead of her curst hart)
Set an huge Botch, or worse plague, mere cōpact;
That it may neuer conuert, or peruert,
Nor haue powre to perswade, much lesse coact.
Beblaine the bosome of each Misteris,
That bares her Brests (lusts signes) ghests to allure;
With a plague kisse her, (that plagues with a kisse)
And make her (with a murraine) more demure.
Our puling puppets, coy, and hard to please,
My too strait-laced all-begarded Girles
(The skumme of Nicenesse) London Mistresses)
Their skins imbroder with plagues orient Pearls.
For these, for First-fruits, haue Fifteenes to spare
But to a Beggar say, We haue not for yee:
Then do away this too-fine wastefull Ware
To second death; for they do most abhorre mee.
Then scowre the Brothel-houses, make them pure,
That flow with filth that wholsomst flesh infects;
Fire out the Pox from thēce with plages vnpure;
For they do cause but most vnpure effects.
Plague carnall Colleges, wherein are taught
Lusts beastly lessons, which no beast will brooke,
Where Aratine is read, and nearely sought;
And so Lusts Precepts practiz'd by the Booke.
Who knowes not Aratine, let him not aske
What thing it is; let it suffice hee was:
But what? no Mouth can tell without a Maske;
For Shame it selfe, will say, O let that passe!
He was a Monster, Tush, O nothing lesse:
For, Nature monsters makes (how ere vnright)
But Nature ne'r made such a Fiend as this,
Who, like a Fiend, was made in Natures spight!
Therefore, away with all that like his Rules,
Which Nature doth dislike as she doth Hell:
Break vp those free (yet deere & damned) Schools,
That teach but gainst kinde Nature to rebell.
Rogh-cast the skin of smooth-fac'd glozing Guile
With burning blisters to consume the same,
That swears to sell crackt wares, yet lies the while,
And of gaine, by deceiuing, makes her game.
Who, but to vtter, but a thing of nought,
Vtters all othes, more precious then her Soule:
And thinks them well bestowd, so it be bought
So, vtters wares with othes, by falshood foule.
This foule offence to Church & Commonwealth,
Sweep cleane away with Wormewood of annoy:
For, it consisteth but by lawfull stealth;
Then, let the truest Plagues it quite destroy.
Of Tauerns, reaking still with vomitings,
Draw, with the Owners, all the Drawers out;
Let none draw Aire, that draw on Surffettings,
But Excesse, and her Slaues, botch all about.
Sith such by drawing out, and drawing on
Do liue; let such be drawne out on a Beare:
For, they with wine haue many men vndone,
And famisht them, in fine, through belly-cheare.
Browne-paper Merchants (that do vent such trash
To heedlesse heirs, to more wealth borne then wit,
That gainst such Paper-rocks their houses dash,
While such slie Merchants make much vse of it)
Vse them as they do vse such heires to vse,
That is, to plague them without all remorce:
These with their Brokers, plague; for they abuse
God, King, and Law, by Lawes abused force.
Then, petti-botching-Brokers, all bebotch
That in a month catch eighteene pence in pound;
Six with a Bill, and twelue for vse they catch,
So, vse they all they catch, to make vnfound.
That they may catch them, and still patches make,
Which in the pound do yeeld thē eighteen pence;
Forc'd, like sheep trespassing, the Pownd to take,
Leauing their Fleece, at last, for recompence.
Hang in their hang-mans wardrop plagues to aire
That all may flie, or die that with it mell;
And so, when none will to their ragges repaire,
They must forsake their liues, or labour well.
Briefly, kill cursed Sinne in generall,
And let Flesh Bee no more to harbour it;
Away with filthie Flesh, away with all
Wherein still-breeding Sinne on broode doth sit.
This was Deaths charge, & this charge did he giue,
Which was perform'd (forthwith) accordingly;
For now the dead had wasted so the liue,
(Or wearied so) that some vnburied lie:
For, All obseru'd the Pestilence was such
As laught to scorne the help of Phisickes art;
So that to death All yeelded with a touch,
And sought no help, but help with ease to part.
An hell of heate doth scorch their seething vaines,
The blood doth boile, and all the Body burnes,
Which raging Heate ascending to the Braines
The powres of Reason there quite ouerturnes!
Then, tis no sinne to say a Plague it is
From whence immortall miseries do flow;
That makes men reason with their rest to misse,
And Soules and Bodies do endanger so.
Here crie the parents fot their Childrens death;
There howle the children for their parents losse;
And often die as they are drawing breath
To crie for their but now inflicted crosse.
Here goes an husband heauily to seeke
A Graue for his dead wife (now hard to haue)
A wife there meets him that had done the like,
All which (perhaps) are buried in one Graue.
The last suruiuor of a Familie,
Which yesterday (perhaps) were all in health,
Now dies to beare his fellowes company,
And for a Graue for all, giues all their wealth.
There wends the fainting Son with his dead Sire
On his sole shoulders borne, him to interre;
Here goes a father with the like desire,
And to the Graue alone, his Sonne doth beare.
The needie, greedie of a wealthie Pray,
Runne into houses cleans'd of Families,
From whence they bring, with goodes, their bane away,
So end in wealth their liues and miseries.
No Cat, Dog, Rat, Hog, Mouse, or Vermine vile,
But vsher'd Death, where ere themselues did go;
For, they the purest Aire did so defile,
That whoso breath'd it, did his breath forgo.
At London (sincke of Sinne) as at the Fount,
This all-confounding Pestilence began.
According to that Plagues most wofull wont,
From whence it (flowing) all the realme o'reranne.
Which to preuent, at first, they pestered
Pest-houses with their murraine-tainted Sicke:
But, though from them, & thence the healthie fled,
They, ere suspected, mortified the Quicke.
Those so infected, being ignorant
That so they are, conuerse with whom soere,
Whose open Shops and Houses all doe haunt,
And finde most danger, where they least do feare.
And so not knowing sicke-folke from the sound
(For, such ill Aire's not subiect to the sense)
They One with Other do themselues confound;
And so confound all with a pestilence.
Out flies one from the Plague, and beares with him
An heauy Purse, and Plague more ponderous;
Which in the hie-way parteth life from limbe,
So plagues the next of his coine couetous.
In this ditch lies one breathing out his last,
Making the same his Graue before his death!
On that Bancke lies another, breathing fast,
And passers by he baneth with his breath.
Now runnes the Rot along each bancke & ditch,
And, with a murraine strikes Swine, Sheep, and all
(Or man, or beast) that chance the same to touch,
So, all in fields, as in the Cities fall.
The London Lanes (themseluet thereby to saue)
Did vomit out their vndigested dead,
Who by cart loads, are carried to the Graue,
For, all those Lanes with folke were ouerfed.
There might ye see Death (as with toile opprest
Panting for breath, all in a mortall sweat)
Vpon each bulke or bench, himselfe to rest,
(At point to faint) his Haruest was so great!
The Bells had talkt so much, as now they had
Tir'd all their tongs, and could not speake a word;
And Griefe so toild herselfe with being sad,
That now at Deaths faint threats, shee would but bourd.
Yea, Death was so familiar (ah) become
With now resolued London Families,
That wheresoere he came, he was welcome,
And entertain'd with ioyes and iolities.
Goods were neglected, as things good for nought;
If good for aught, good but to breed more ill:
The Sicke despis'd them: if the Sound thē sought,
They sought their death which cleaued to thē stil!
So Sicke, and Sound, at last neglected them,
As if the Sound and Sicke were neere their last;
And all, almost, so fared through the Realme
As if their Soules the Iudgement day were past.
This World was quite forgot; the World to come
Was still in minde; which for it was forgot,
Brought on our World this little day of Dome,
That choakt the Graue with this contageous Rot!
No place was free for Free-men; ne for those
That were in Prisons, wanting Libertie;
Yet Prisoners frëest were from Plagues and Woes
That visite Free-men, but too lib'rally.
For, al their food came frō the helthy house,
Which then wold giue Gods plags from thence to keep;
The rest, shut vp, could not like bountie vse,
So, woefull Pris'ners had least cause to weepe.
The king himselfe (O wretched Times the while!)
From place to place, to saue himselfe did flie,
Which from himselfe himselfe did seekes' exile,
Who (as amaz'd) not safe, knew where to lie.
Its hard with Subiects when the Soueraigne
Hath no place free from plagues his head to hide;
And hardly can we say the King doth raigne,
That no where, for iust feare, can well abide.
For, no where comes He but Death follows him
Hard at the Heeles, and reacheth at his head;
So sincks al Sports that wold like triumphs swim,
For, what life haue we, when we all are dead;
Dead in our Spirits, to see our Neighbours die;
To see our King so shift his life to saue;
And with his Councell all Conclusions trie
To keepe themselues from th'insatiate Graue.
For, hardly could one man another meete,
That in his bosome brought not odious Death;
It was confusion but a friend to greet,
For, like a Fiend, he baned with his breath.
The wildest wastes, and places most remote
From Mans repaire, are now the most secure;
Happy is he that there doth finde a Cote
To shrowd his Head from this Plagues smoaking showre
A Beggars home (though dwelling in a Ditch
If farre from London it were scituate)
He might rent out, if pleas'd him, to the Rich,
That now as Hell their London homes doe hate.
Now, had the Sunne the Ballance entered,
To giue his heate by weight, or in a meane,
When yet this Plague more heate recouered,
And scowr'd the towns, that erst were clēsed clean.
Now, sad Dispaire (clad in a sable weede)
Did All attend, and All resolu'd to die;
For, Heat & cold, they thought, the Plague would feede
Which, like a Ierffe, still sinn;d in gluttony.
The heau'nly Coape was now ore-canopide,
(Neere each ones Zenith (as his sense suppos'd)
With ominous impressions, strangely died,
And like a Canopie at toppe it clos'd.
As if it had presag'd the Iudge was nie,
To sit in Iudgement his last doome to giue,
And caus'd his cloth of State t'adorne the Skie
That All his neare approach might so perceiue
Now fall the people vnto publike Fast,
And all assemble in the Church to pray;
Earely, and late, their soules, there take repast,
As if preparing for the later day!
Where (fasting) meeting with the sound and sicke,
The sicke the sound do plage, while they do pray;
To haste before the Iudge the dead and quicke,
And pull each other so, in post, away.
Now Angells laugh to see how contrite hearts
Incounter Death, and scorne his Tiranny;
Their Iudge doth ioy to see them play their parts,
That erst so liu'd as if they ne'r should die.
Vp go their harts & hands, and downe their knees,
While Death wēt vp & down, to bring thē down;
That vp they might at once (not by degrees)
Vnto the High'st, that doth the humble crowne!
O how the thresholds of each double dore
Of Heau'n, and Hell, were worne with throngs of ghosts
Ne'r since the Deluge, did they so before,
Nor euer since so pollisht the side-posts.
The Angells, good and bad, are now all toil'd
With intertaining of these ceaselesse throngs;
With howling some (in heat and horror broild)
And othersome in blisse, with ioyfull Songs.
Th'infernall Legions, in Battallions,
Seeke to inlarge their kingdome, lest it should
Be cloid with Collonies of wicked ones;
For now it held, more then it well could hold!
The Angells, on the Cristall walls of Heau'n,
Holpe thousands ore the Gates so glutted were;
To whom authoritie by Grace was giu'n
(The prease was such) to helpe them ouer there.
The Cherubin eie-blinding Maiestie
Vpon his Throne (that euer blest hath bin)
Is compast with vnwonted Company,
And smiles to see how Angells helpe them in.
The heau'nly streets do glitter (like the Sunne)
With throngs of Sonnes but newly glorifide;
Who still to praise their Glorifier runne
Along those streets, full fraught on either side.
Now was the earthly Mammon, which had held
Their Harts to Earth, held most contagious;
A Beggar scornd to touch it (so defilde)
So, none but castawaies were covetous.
Now Auarice was turned Cherubin,
Who nought desir'd but the extreamest Good;
For, now she saw she could no longer sinne,
So, to the Time she sought to suite her moode,
The loathsome Leacher loath'd his wonted sport;
For, now he thought all flesh was most corrupt:
The brainsicke brawler waxed all-amort;
For, such blood-suckers Bane did interrupt.
The Pastors now, steep all their words in Brine,
With woe, woe, woe, and nought is heard but woe;
Woe and alas, they say, the powres diuine
Are bent Mankind, for sinne to ouerthrow.
Repent, repent, (like Ionas) now they crie,
Ye men of England, O repent, repent;
To see if so yee maie moue Pitties Eye,
To looke vpon you, ere you quite be spent.
And oft whilst he breathes out thess bitter Words,
He, drawing breath, drawes in more bitter Bane:
For, now the Aire, no Aire but death affords;
And lights of Art (for helpe) were in the wane.
Nor people praying, nor the Pastor preaching,
Death spared ought; but murd'red one and other;
He was a walme, he could not stay impeaching,
Who smoakt with heat, & chokt, all with the smother.
The babe new born he nipt strait in the head
With aire that through his yet vnclosed Mould
Did pierce his brains, & throgh thē poison spread,
So left his life, that scarse had life in hold.
The Mother after hies, the Father posts
After the Mother; Thus, at Base they runne
Vnto the Gole of that great Lord of Hoasts
That for those keepes it that runnes for his Sonne.
The rest Death trippes, and takes them prisoners;
Such lose the Gole without gainesaying-strife;
But, all, and some, are as Deaths Messengers
To fetch both one and other out of life.
The Sire doth fetch the Sonne, the Sonne the Sire,
Death, being impartiall, makes his Subiects so:
The Priuate's not respected, but intire
(Death pointing out the way) away they go.
The ceremonie at their Burialls
Is Ashes but to Ashes, Dust, to Dust;
Nay not so much; for, strait the Pit-man falles
(If he can stand) to hide them as he must.
A Mount thus made, vpon his Spade he leanes
(Tired with toile) yet (tired) prest to toile)
Till Death an heape, in his inn'd Haruest, gleanes,
That so he may, by heapes, eft seed the Soile.
Not long he staies, but (ah) a mightier heape
Then erst he hid, is made strait to be hild;
The Land is scarse, but yet the Seed is cheape,
For, all is full, or rather ouerfill'd.
The Beere is laid away, and Cribbes they get
To fetch more dung for Fields and Garden-plots;
Worke-men are scarse, the labour is so great,
That (ah) the Seede, vnburied, often rottes.
It rottes, and makes the Land thereby the worse,
For, being rotten, it ill vapors breedes,
Which many mortall miseries doe nurse,
And the Plague (ouerfed) so, ouerfeedes.
Here lies an humane Carcasse halfe consum'd;
And there some fow or beast, in selfe same plight;
Dead with the Pestilence, for so it fum'd,
That all it touched, it consumed quite.
Quite through the hoast of Natures Animalls
Death like a Conquerer in Triumph rides;
And ere he came too neare, each Creature falls,
His dreadfull presence then no flesh abides.
Now man to man (if euer) fiends became,
Feare of infection choakt Humanitie;
The emptie Maw (abandon'd) got but blame
If it had once but sought for Charitie.
The Poore must not about, to seeke for foode,
And no man sought them, that they might be fed;
Two Plagues, in one, inuaded so their blood,
Both Famine, and Infection strikes them dead.
Some staid, in hope that Death would be appeas'd,
And kept the towns, which thē & theirs had kept;
Till their next neighbors were (perhaps) diseas'd;
Or with Deaths fatall Fanne away were swept.
Thē, fain wold fly but could not (thogh thei wold)
For, wil they, nill they, they must keep their house,
Till throgh some chink, on thē Death taketh hold,
And vs'd them, as he did their neighbours vse.
If any at some Posterne could get out,
As good they staid, sith sure they staid should be;
For, all the Countries watcht were round about,
That from the towne, none might a furlong flee.
Then, who from Death did flie, the feare of Death
Made Free-men keep the fliers in his Iawes;
Where (poison'd with his fowle infectious breath)
Their flesh and bones he (ne'r suffized) gnawes.
Now might ye see the Plague deuoure with speed
As it neare famisht were, lest in a while
It might be so, and want whereon to feede;
So fed, the future hunger to beguile.
Now doth it swell (hold hide) nay, breake, or die)
Till skin doth crack, to make more room for meat
Yet meat, more meate it (neuer cloid) doth crie,
And all about doth runne the same to get.
The Graues do often vomit out their dead,
They are so ouer-gorg'd, with great, and small;
Who hardly, with the earth are couered;
So, oft discouer'd when the Earth did fall.
Those which in hie- waies died (as many did)
Some worthlesse wretch, hir'd for no worthles fee,
Makes a rude hole, some distance him beside,
And rakes him in farre off; so, there lies hee.
But, if the Pit-man haue not so much sense
To see, nor feele which way the winde doth sit
To take the same, he hardly comes from thence,
But, for himselfe (perhaps) he makes the pit:
For, the contagion was so violent,
(The wil of Heau'n ordaining so the same)
As often strooke stone-dead incontinent,
And Natures strongest forces strait orecame.
Here lieth one vpon his burning brest,
Vpon the Earths cold breast, and dies outright;
Who wanting buriall, doth the Aire infest,
That like a Basaliske he banes with sight!
There reeles another like one deadly druncke,
But newly strooke (perhaps) then downe he falls,
Who, in the
Streets, or waies, no sooner suncke,
But forthwith dies, and so lies by the walles,
The Hay-cockes in the Meades were oft opprest
With plaguy Bodies, both aliue, and dead;
Which being vs'd, confounded Man and Beast,
And vs'd they might be ere discouered.
For, some (like Ghosts) wold walk out in the night,
The Citie glowing (furnace-like) with heate
Of this contagion, to seeke if they might,
Fresh aire, where oft they died for want of meate.
The Traueler that spied (perhaps his Sire)
Another farre off, comming towards him
Would flie, as from a flying flame of fire
That would, if it he met, waste life and limbe.
So, towns fear'd townes, and men ech other fear'd;
All were (at least) attainted with suspect,
And, sooth to say, so was their enuy stirr'd,
That one would seeke another to infect:
For, whether the disease to enuy mou'd,
Or humane natures malice was the cause,
Th'infected often all Conclusions prou'd
To plague him that frō thē himselfe withdrawes!
Here do they Gloues, and there they Garters fall;
Ruffs, Cuffs, & handkerchers, and such like things
They strow about, so to endanger all:
For, Enuy now, most pestilently stings!
So, heau'n and earth, against Man did conspire,
And Man against Man, to exrirpe his Race;
Who Bellowes were t'augment Infections fire,
And blow abroad the same from place to place.
Sedition thus marcht (with a pestilence)
From towne to towne, to make them desolate;
The Browne-Bill was too short to keep it thence,
For, further off it raught the Bill-mans pate.
Nor walls could keepe it out; for, it is said
(And truely too) that Hunger breakes stone-walls:
The plague of Hunger with the Plagne arrai'd
It selfe, to make way, where ere Succour calls.
For, hungrie Armies fight as Fiends they were:
No humane powre can well their force withstand:
They laugh to scorne the shaking of the Speare:
And gainst the gods thēselues, thēselues dare band
Some ranne as mad (or with wine ouer-shot)
From house to house, when botches on them ranne;
Who, though they menac'd were with Sword, and Shot,
Yet forward ran, & feare nor God nor man!
As when a Ship, at Sea, is set on fire,
And (all on flame's) winde-driuen on a Fleete,
The Fleete doth flie, sith that Ship doth desire
(Maugre all force oppos'd) with it to meete:
So flies the Bill-man, and the Muskettire
From the approaching desperate plaguy wight,
As from a flying flame of quenchlesse fire;
For, who hath any life, with Death to fight?
At all, cries Death, then downe by heaps they fall:
He drawes in By, and Maine, amaine he drawes
Huge heapes together, and still cries, At all:
His hand is in, and none his hand withdrawes.
For, looke how Leaues in Autumne from the tree
With wind do fall, whose heaps fil holes in groūd;
So might ye (with the Plagues breath) people see,
Fall by great heapes, and fill vp holes profound.
No holy Turffe was left to hide the head
Of holiest men; but, most vnhall'wed grounds
(Ditches and Hie-waies) must receiue the dead,
The dead (ah woe the while) so oreabounds!
Here might ye see as t'were a Mountainet
Founded on Bodies, grounded very deepe,
Which like a Trophee of Deaths Triumphs set
The world on wonder, that did wondring weepe:
For, to the middle Region of the Aire,
Our earthly Region was infected so,
That Foules therein had cause of iust dispaire,
As those which ouer Zodome dying go!
Some common Carriers, (for their owne behoofe,
And for their good, whose Soules for gaines doe
Fetching frō Lōdō packs of Plags, & stuffe (grone)
Are forc'd to inne it, in some Barne alone.
Where, lest it should the Country sacrifise,
Barne, Corne, and Stuffe a Sacrifice is sent
(In Aire-refining Flames) to th'angrie Skies,
While th'owners do their Faults & Losse lament.
The Carriers, to some Pest-house, or their owne,
Carried, clapt vp, and watcht for comming out,
Must there with Time or Death conuerse alone,
Till Time or Death doth free the world of doubt:
Who thogh they Cariers were, yet being too weak
Such heauy double Plagues as these to beare,
Out of their houses som by force do break,
And
drowne themselues, themselues from plags to cleare.
These are reuenges fit for such a God,
Fit for his Iustice, Powre, and Maiestie;
These are right ierkes of diuine Furies Rod,
That draw from Flesh the life-blood mortally.
If these are but his temp'rall Punishments,
Then what are they surmounting Time and Fate?
Melt Flesh to thinke but on such Languishments,
That Soule and Bodie burne in endlesse date.
His vtmost Plagues extend beyond the reach
Of comprehension of the deepest Thought;
For, he his wisedome infinite doth stretch
To make them absolutely good for nought.
Then, O what heart of sensible Discourse,
Quakes not, as if it would in sunder fall,
But once to thinke vpon such Furies force,
As doth so farre surmount the thoughts of all?
If humane Wisedome in the highest straine,
Should yet stretch further Torments to deuise,
They would be such that none could them sustain,
Through weight of woes, and raging agonies:
Then (O) what be they that deuised are
By Wisedome that of Nought made all this All,
That stretch as farre past speach, as past compare,
Surmounting Wonder; supernaturall!
They be the Iudgements of that Trinitie,
Which (like themselues) are most inscrutable;
Then can mans heart, but either swoone or die,
To thinke on anguish, so vnthinkeable.
And can our Sense, our Sense so much besot,
To thinke such worlds of woe no where exist,
Sith in this sensuall World it feeles them not,
And so in sinne (till they be felt) insist?
Then happy That, that is insensible,
Since wee imploy our happinesse of Sense
To feele and taste but pleasures sensible;
And see no Paine that at their end commence.
To breake the Belly of our damn'd Desires
With honied Sweets that soone to poison turne;
And in our Soules enkindle quenchlesse fires,
Which all the frame thereof quite ouerturne.
To please it selfe a Moment, and displease
It selfe for euer, with ne'r-ending paines;
To ease the Bodie with the Soules disease,
To glad the Guttes, to grieue the Heart & Braines.
To make the Throat a Through-fare for Excesse,
The Belly a Charibdis for the same;
To vse Wit still but onely to transgresse,
And make our Sense the Spunge of Sin & Shame:
Then happy are sweet Floures that liue and die
(Without offence) most pleasing vnto all:
And haplesse Man that liues vnpleasingly
To Heau'n and Earth; so, liues and dies to fall.
The Rose doth liue a sweete life, but to please,
And when it dies, it leaues sweet fruit behinde;
But Man in Life and Death doth none of these,
If Grace by Miracle ne'r mend his mind.
Blush Man, that Floures should so thy selfe excell
That wast created to excell what not?
That on the Earth created was to dwell;
Then blush for shame to grace thy Beauties blot.
Art thou Horizon made (vnholy one)
Betwixt immortall Angells, and bruit beasts?
Yet wilt twixt beasts and fiends be Horizon
By that which Angells grieues, and God detests?
Then Plagues must follow thy misguided Will,
So to correct thine ill-directing Wit;
Such as these are, or others much more ill,
The worst of which Sinne (ill of Ills) befit.
And loe, for Sinne; how yet the Plague doth rage
(With vnappeased furie) more and more,
Making our Troy-nouant a tragicke Stage
Whereon to shew Deaths powre, with slaughters sore.
Great Monarch of Earths ample world he is;
And of our little Worlds (that worlds content)
He giues ill Subiects Bale, good Subiects Blisse;
So, though he raignes, iust is his Regiment.
Our sins (foule blots) corrupt the Earth and Aire;
Our sins (soules botches) all this All defile;
And make our Soules most foule, that were most faire;
For, nought but sin we all, all nought the while!
When sharpest wits are whetted to the point,
To pierce into all secrets, but to sinne!
And all the corps of Luxury vnioint,
To see what sensuall ioy might be therein:
When as such trickes as no Sunne euer saw
Deuis'd are daily by the Serpent-wise,
To cramme all Flesh into the Deuills maw
By drifts, as scarse the Deuill can deuise!
Can God (most iust) be good to men so ill?
And can the Earth, and Aire, wherein such liue,
Keepe such aliue? O no, all Plagues must fill
That Aire, and Earth, that do such plagues reliue.
What are those men but plagues, that plague but men?
All men are such, that teach sin in effect;
And all do so, that sinne but now and then,
If now and then they sinne, in ouertact.
What can containe vs, if these plagues cannot?
If neither these we feele, nor those we shall,
Be not of force to keepe our liues from blot,
What then remaines but plagues to scowre vs all?
Till we wax lesse, and they so multiplide,
That we be nothing lesse, than what we are;
Conuerted, or confounded we abide
In, or without God, with, or without care!
If when his yron Rod drawes blood from vs,
And is vpon our backes, yea breakes our bones,
We cease not yet to be rebellious,
What can conuert vs but plagues for the nones!
For Natures heart doth yrne with extreame griefe,
When wel she weighs her childrens strange estate,
Subiect to sinne, and so to sorrowes chiefe,
For both in counterchange renew their date:
For now we sinne (yea with a witnesse sinne,
Witnesse our conscience) then we plagued are,
Plagu'd with a witnes, (witnesse plagues that
With fury on vs) then, when so we fare
Fall we to pray and creepe to Grace for grace,
Which being got, and ease, and weale at will,
We fall to sinne, and so our soules disgrace:
Thus sinne and plagues runne round about vs still
This euer-circling Plague of plagues and sinne,
Surroundeth Mankinde in an hell of woe,
Man is the Axis standing still therein,
And goes with it where euer it doth goe;
For since he fell, who at this Center staies
By Nature (most vnnaturall the while)
Here moues man mouelesse as the Axis plaies,
And Times turns (turning with him) doth beguile.
And yet this Plague (if Griefs tears quench it not)
Is like a sparke of fire in flax too drie,
And may, if our Lusts coole not, burne more hot
Than erst it did; so waste vs vtterly.
We see it will not out, but still it lies
In our best Cities Bowells like a Cole
That threats to flame, and stil doth fall and rise,
Wasting a part, thereby to warne the whole.
None otherwise than when (with griefe) we see
Some house on fire, we strait, to saue the towne,
Watch, fast, and pray, and most industrious bee,
With hooke and line to pull the Building downe:
So doth this fire of heau'ns still kindling ire
Blister our Cities publike Body so,
As we are blister'd, but with so much fire,
As we may quench with teares if they do flo.
But if it should breake forth in flames afresh,
(As (ah) what staies it but vnstinted Grace?)
What thing shuld quench it but a world of Flesh?
Or desolation it away to chace?
Time neuer knew since he beganne his houres,
(For aught we reade) a Plague so long remaine
In any Citie, as this Plague of ours:
For now six yeares in London it hath laine.
Where none goes out, but at his comming in,
If he but feeles the tendrest touch of smart,
He feares he is Plague-smitten for his sinne;
So, ere hee's plagu'd, he takes It to the heart:
For, Feare doth (Loadstone-like) it oft attract,
That else would not come neere; or steale away;
And yet this plaguy-feare will scarse coact
Our Soules to sinne no more, this Plague to slay.
But thou, in whose high hand all hearts are held,
Conuert vs, and from vs this Plague auert:
So sin shall yeeld to Grace, and Grace shall yeeld
The Giuer glory for so deere desert.
Too deere for such too worthles wicked Things,
At best but clods of base Infirmitie;
Too deere for sinne that all this murraine brings;
Too deere for those that liue but twice to die.
In few, what should I say? the best are nought
That breathe, since man first breathing did rebell:
The best that breath are worse thā may be thoght,
If Thought can thinke the best can do but well:
For, none doth well on Earth, but such as will
Confesse (with griefe) they do exceeding ill!
Deale you with those that your forbearaunce wrōg
Dumb Sin (not to be nam'd) against vs cries
Yea, cries against vs with a tempting tong.
And, it is heard; for, Patience oft prouokt
Conuerts to Furies all-consuming flame;
And, fowlest sinne (thogh ne'r so cleanly cloakt)
Breaks out to publike plagues, and open shame!
Ne'r did the Heau'ns bright Eie such sins behold
As our long Peace and Plenty haue begot;
Nor ere did Earths declining proppes vphold
An heauier plague, then this outragious Rot!
Witnesse our Citties, Townes, and Villages,
Which Desolation, day and night, inuades
With Coffins (Cannon-like) on Carriages,
With trenches ram'd with Carkases, with Spades!
A shiu'ring cold (I sensibly do feele)
Glides through my veines, and shakes my hart and hand,
When they doe proue their vertue, to reueale
This plague of plagues, that ouerlades this Land!
221
When it but offers but to mention it;
And Will abandon'd by Intelligence
Is drown'd in Doubt, without her Pilot Wit!
But, thou, O thou great giuer of all grace,
Inspire my Wit, so to direct my Will,
That notwithstāding eithers wretched case,
They may paint out thy Plagues with grace, with skil,
That so these Lines may reach to future times,
To strike a terror through the heart of Flesh;
And keep It vnder that by Nature climbes,
For, Plagues do Sin suppresse when they are fresh.
And fresh they be, when they are so exprest,
As though they were in being seene of Sense;
Which diuine Poesie performeth best,
For, all our speaking Pictures come from thence!
The obiect of mine outward Sense affords
But too much Matter for my Muse to forme;
Her want (though she had words at will) is words,
T'expresse this Plagues vnvtterable Storme!
Fancie, thou needst not forge false Images
To furnish Wit t'expresse a truth so true;
Pictures of Death stoppe vp all Passages,
That Sēse must needs those obuious obiects view.
If Wit had powre t'expresse what Sense doth see,
It would astonish Sense that heares the same;
For, neuer came there like Mortalitie,
Since Death from Adam to his Children came!
Scarse three times had the Moone replenished
Her empty Horns with light; but th'empty Graue
222
As scarse the dead might Christian buriall haue!
Th'Almighties hand that long had, to his paine,
Offer'd to let his Plagues fall, by degrees,
And with the offer pull'd it backe againe,
Now breakes his Viall, and a Plague out-flees,
That glutts the Aire with Vapors venemous,
That puttrifie, infect, and flesh confound,
And makes the Earthes breath most contagious,
That in the Earth and Aire but Death is found!
A deadlie Murraine, with resistlesse force,
Runnes through the Land and leuells All with it!
The Coast it scoured, in vncleanlie Course,
And thousands fled before it to the Pitte!
For, ere the breath of this Contagion,
Could fully touch the flesh of Man, or Beast,
They on the sodaine sinke, and strait are gone,
So, instantlie, by thousands, are decreast!
No Phisicke could be found, to be a meane,
But to allaie their Paine, delaie their Death;
In this Phisitions Haruest, They could gleane
But corrupt Aire and Danger by that Breath.
All Artes and Sciences were at a stand,
And All that liu'd by them, by them did die;
For death did hold their heads, & staid their hād,
Sith they no where could vse their Facultie.
The nursing Mothers of the Sciences
Withdrew their Foster-milke while witt did fast;
For, both our forlorne Vniuersities
Forsaken were and Colledges made fast!
223
They staid to pray, for if they did command,
Hardly, or neuer should they be obaid;
For, Death dares all Authority withstand.
And, wheres no Magistrate, no Order is;
Where Order wants, by order doth ensue
Confusion strait, and in the necke of this
Must silent Desolation all subdue!
For feare wherof, both king, & kingdome shakes,
Sith Desolation threatens them so sore;
All hope of earthly helpe the Land forsakes,
And Heau'n powres plags vpō it more & more!
Now, Death refreshed with a little rest
(As if inspired with the Spirit of Life)
With furie flies (like Aire) throgh man and beast,
And makes eftsoons the murraine much more rife!
London now smokes with vapors that arise
From his foule Sweat, himselfe he so bestirres;
Cast out your Dead, the Carcasse-carrier cries,
Which he, by heaps, in groūdlesse graues interres!
Now scowres he Streets, on either side, as cleane
As smoking showrs of raine the Streets do scowre;
Now, in his Murdring, he obserues no meane,
But tagge and ragge he strikes, and striketh sure.
He laies it on the skinnes of Yong and Old,
The mortall markes whereof therein appeare:
Here, swells a Botch, as hie as hide can hold,
And, Spots (his surer Signes) do muster there!
The South wind blowing frō his swelling cheeks,
Soultry hot Gales, did make Death rage the more,
224
Which flies, like chaffe in wind, his breath before!
He raiseth Mountaines of dead carkases,
As if on them he would to Heau'n ascend,
T'asswage his rage on diuine Essences,
When he of Men, on Earth, had made an end.
Nothing but Death alone, could Death suffize,
Who made each Mouse to carry in her Coate
His heauy vengeance to whole Families,
Whilst with blunt Botches he cuts others throate!
And, if such Vermine were thus all imploide,
He would constraine domestike foules to bring
Destruction to their haunts; So, men destroid
As swiftly as they could bestirre their wing!
So, Death might well be said to flie the field,
And in the House foile with resistlesse force,
When he abroad all kinde of Creatures kill'd
That he found liuing in his lifelesse Course!
Now like to Bees, in Summers heate, from Hiues,
Out flie the Citizens, some here, some there;
Some all alone, and others with their wiues:
With wiues and children some flie, All for feare!
Here stands a Watch with guard of Partezans
To stoppe their Passages, or too, or fro;
As if they were nor Men, nor Christians,
But Fiends, or Monsters, murdring as they go!
Like as an Hart, death-wounded, held at Bay
Doth flie, if so he can, from Hunters chase,
That so he may recouer (if he may)
Or else to die in some more easie place.
225
Strooke with the Plague, to hie him to the field,
Where in some Brake, or Ditch (of either glad)
With plesure, in great paine, the ghost doth yield!
Each Village, free, now stands vpon her guard;
None must haue harbour in them but their owne:
And as for life and death all watch, and ward,
And flie for life (as Death) the man vnknowne!
For, now men are become so monsterous
And mighty in their powre, that with their breath
They leaue no ils, saue goods, from house to house,
But blow away each other from the Earth!
The sickest Sucklings breath was of that force
That it the strongest Giant ouerthrew;
And made his healthie corpse a carrion Corse,
If it (perhaps) but came within his view!
Alarme, alarme, cries Death, downe, downe with All;
I haue, and giue Commission All to kill:
Let not one stand to pisse against a wall,
Sith they are all so good, in works so ill.
Vnioynt the body of their Common-weale,
Hew it in peeces, bring it all to nought;
With Rigors boistrous hand all Bands canceale,
Wherin the heau'ns stād bound to Earth in aught.
Wound me the scalpe of humane Policie,
Sith it would stand without the help of heau'n
On rotten proppes of all impietie;
Away with it, let it be life-bereau'n.
With plagues, strike through Extortions loathed loines,
And riuet in them glowing pestilence:
226
And with a plague, send, send the same frō hence.
Wind me a Botch (huge Botch) about the Necke
Of damn'd disguis'd, man-pleasing Sanctitie:
And Simony with selfe same Choller decke,
Plague these two Plagues with all extremitie.
For, these are Pearles that quite put out the eies
Of Piety in Christian Common-wealths;
These, these are they, from whō all plagues do rise,
Thē plagues on plagues, by right, must reaue their healths.
Dash Veng'āce viall on the cursed brow
Of Zodomy, that euer-crying sinne;
And that it be no more whole Pelions throw
Of plagues vpon it both without, and in!
Throgh black Auernus (hels mouth) send the same
Into the deepest pit of lowest hell;
Let neuer more the nature, nor the name
Be known within the Zones, where mē may dwel,
Oppresse Oppression, this Lands burning-feauer,
With burning sores of feauers-pestilent;
And now or neuer, quell it now and euer,
For, it doth quell the Poore and Innocent
Bring downe damn'd Pride with a pure pestilēce
Deriued from all plagues that are vnpure,
Extracted to th' extreamest quintessence,
For Pride all Sinnes, & plagues for sin, procures.
In Atheismes breast (instead of her curst hart)
Set an huge Botch, or worse plague, mere cōpact;
That it may neuer conuert, or peruert,
Nor haue powre to perswade, much lesse coact.
227
That bares her Brests (lusts signes) ghests to allure;
With a plague kisse her, (that plagues with a kisse)
And make her (with a murraine) more demure.
Our puling puppets, coy, and hard to please,
My too strait-laced all-begarded Girles
(The skumme of Nicenesse) London Mistresses)
Their skins imbroder with plagues orient Pearls.
For these, for First-fruits, haue Fifteenes to spare
But to a Beggar say, We haue not for yee:
Then do away this too-fine wastefull Ware
To second death; for they do most abhorre mee.
Then scowre the Brothel-houses, make them pure,
That flow with filth that wholsomst flesh infects;
Fire out the Pox from thēce with plages vnpure;
For they do cause but most vnpure effects.
Plague carnall Colleges, wherein are taught
Lusts beastly lessons, which no beast will brooke,
Where Aratine is read, and nearely sought;
And so Lusts Precepts practiz'd by the Booke.
Who knowes not Aratine, let him not aske
What thing it is; let it suffice hee was:
But what? no Mouth can tell without a Maske;
For Shame it selfe, will say, O let that passe!
He was a Monster, Tush, O nothing lesse:
For, Nature monsters makes (how ere vnright)
But Nature ne'r made such a Fiend as this,
Who, like a Fiend, was made in Natures spight!
Therefore, away with all that like his Rules,
Which Nature doth dislike as she doth Hell:
228
That teach but gainst kinde Nature to rebell.
Rogh-cast the skin of smooth-fac'd glozing Guile
With burning blisters to consume the same,
That swears to sell crackt wares, yet lies the while,
And of gaine, by deceiuing, makes her game.
Who, but to vtter, but a thing of nought,
Vtters all othes, more precious then her Soule:
And thinks them well bestowd, so it be bought
So, vtters wares with othes, by falshood foule.
This foule offence to Church & Commonwealth,
Sweep cleane away with Wormewood of annoy:
For, it consisteth but by lawfull stealth;
Then, let the truest Plagues it quite destroy.
Of Tauerns, reaking still with vomitings,
Draw, with the Owners, all the Drawers out;
Let none draw Aire, that draw on Surffettings,
But Excesse, and her Slaues, botch all about.
Sith such by drawing out, and drawing on
Do liue; let such be drawne out on a Beare:
For, they with wine haue many men vndone,
And famisht them, in fine, through belly-cheare.
Browne-paper Merchants (that do vent such trash
To heedlesse heirs, to more wealth borne then wit,
That gainst such Paper-rocks their houses dash,
While such slie Merchants make much vse of it)
Vse them as they do vse such heires to vse,
That is, to plague them without all remorce:
These with their Brokers, plague; for they abuse
God, King, and Law, by Lawes abused force.
229
That in a month catch eighteene pence in pound;
Six with a Bill, and twelue for vse they catch,
So, vse they all they catch, to make vnfound.
That they may catch them, and still patches make,
Which in the pound do yeeld thē eighteen pence;
Forc'd, like sheep trespassing, the Pownd to take,
Leauing their Fleece, at last, for recompence.
Hang in their hang-mans wardrop plagues to aire
That all may flie, or die that with it mell;
And so, when none will to their ragges repaire,
They must forsake their liues, or labour well.
Briefly, kill cursed Sinne in generall,
And let Flesh Bee no more to harbour it;
Away with filthie Flesh, away with all
Wherein still-breeding Sinne on broode doth sit.
This was Deaths charge, & this charge did he giue,
Which was perform'd (forthwith) accordingly;
For now the dead had wasted so the liue,
(Or wearied so) that some vnburied lie:
For, All obseru'd the Pestilence was such
As laught to scorne the help of Phisickes art;
So that to death All yeelded with a touch,
And sought no help, but help with ease to part.
An hell of heate doth scorch their seething vaines,
The blood doth boile, and all the Body burnes,
Which raging Heate ascending to the Braines
The powres of Reason there quite ouerturnes!
Then, tis no sinne to say a Plague it is
From whence immortall miseries do flow;
230
And Soules and Bodies do endanger so.
Here crie the parents fot their Childrens death;
There howle the children for their parents losse;
And often die as they are drawing breath
To crie for their but now inflicted crosse.
Here goes an husband heauily to seeke
A Graue for his dead wife (now hard to haue)
A wife there meets him that had done the like,
All which (perhaps) are buried in one Graue.
The last suruiuor of a Familie,
Which yesterday (perhaps) were all in health,
Now dies to beare his fellowes company,
And for a Graue for all, giues all their wealth.
There wends the fainting Son with his dead Sire
On his sole shoulders borne, him to interre;
Here goes a father with the like desire,
And to the Graue alone, his Sonne doth beare.
The needie, greedie of a wealthie Pray,
Runne into houses cleans'd of Families,
From whence they bring, with goodes, their bane away,
So end in wealth their liues and miseries.
No Cat, Dog, Rat, Hog, Mouse, or Vermine vile,
But vsher'd Death, where ere themselues did go;
For, they the purest Aire did so defile,
That whoso breath'd it, did his breath forgo.
At London (sincke of Sinne) as at the Fount,
This all-confounding Pestilence began.
According to that Plagues most wofull wont,
From whence it (flowing) all the realme o'reranne.
231
Pest-houses with their murraine-tainted Sicke:
But, though from them, & thence the healthie fled,
They, ere suspected, mortified the Quicke.
Those so infected, being ignorant
That so they are, conuerse with whom soere,
Whose open Shops and Houses all doe haunt,
And finde most danger, where they least do feare.
And so not knowing sicke-folke from the sound
(For, such ill Aire's not subiect to the sense)
They One with Other do themselues confound;
And so confound all with a pestilence.
Out flies one from the Plague, and beares with him
An heauy Purse, and Plague more ponderous;
Which in the hie-way parteth life from limbe,
So plagues the next of his coine couetous.
In this ditch lies one breathing out his last,
Making the same his Graue before his death!
On that Bancke lies another, breathing fast,
And passers by he baneth with his breath.
Now runnes the Rot along each bancke & ditch,
And, with a murraine strikes Swine, Sheep, and all
(Or man, or beast) that chance the same to touch,
So, all in fields, as in the Cities fall.
The London Lanes (themseluet thereby to saue)
Did vomit out their vndigested dead,
Who by cart loads, are carried to the Graue,
For, all those Lanes with folke were ouerfed.
There might ye see Death (as with toile opprest
Panting for breath, all in a mortall sweat)
232
(At point to faint) his Haruest was so great!
The Bells had talkt so much, as now they had
Tir'd all their tongs, and could not speake a word;
And Griefe so toild herselfe with being sad,
That now at Deaths faint threats, shee would but bourd.
Yea, Death was so familiar (ah) become
With now resolued London Families,
That wheresoere he came, he was welcome,
And entertain'd with ioyes and iolities.
Goods were neglected, as things good for nought;
If good for aught, good but to breed more ill:
The Sicke despis'd them: if the Sound thē sought,
They sought their death which cleaued to thē stil!
So Sicke, and Sound, at last neglected them,
As if the Sound and Sicke were neere their last;
And all, almost, so fared through the Realme
As if their Soules the Iudgement day were past.
This World was quite forgot; the World to come
Was still in minde; which for it was forgot,
Brought on our World this little day of Dome,
That choakt the Graue with this contageous Rot!
No place was free for Free-men; ne for those
That were in Prisons, wanting Libertie;
Yet Prisoners frëest were from Plagues and Woes
That visite Free-men, but too lib'rally.
For, al their food came frō the helthy house,
Which then wold giue Gods plags from thence to keep;
The rest, shut vp, could not like bountie vse,
So, woefull Pris'ners had least cause to weepe.
233
From place to place, to saue himselfe did flie,
Which from himselfe himselfe did seekes' exile,
Who (as amaz'd) not safe, knew where to lie.
Its hard with Subiects when the Soueraigne
Hath no place free from plagues his head to hide;
And hardly can we say the King doth raigne,
That no where, for iust feare, can well abide.
For, no where comes He but Death follows him
Hard at the Heeles, and reacheth at his head;
So sincks al Sports that wold like triumphs swim,
For, what life haue we, when we all are dead;
Dead in our Spirits, to see our Neighbours die;
To see our King so shift his life to saue;
And with his Councell all Conclusions trie
To keepe themselues from th'insatiate Graue.
For, hardly could one man another meete,
That in his bosome brought not odious Death;
It was confusion but a friend to greet,
For, like a Fiend, he baned with his breath.
The wildest wastes, and places most remote
From Mans repaire, are now the most secure;
Happy is he that there doth finde a Cote
To shrowd his Head from this Plagues smoaking showre
A Beggars home (though dwelling in a Ditch
If farre from London it were scituate)
He might rent out, if pleas'd him, to the Rich,
That now as Hell their London homes doe hate.
Now, had the Sunne the Ballance entered,
To giue his heate by weight, or in a meane,
234
And scowr'd the towns, that erst were clēsed clean.
Now, sad Dispaire (clad in a sable weede)
Did All attend, and All resolu'd to die;
For, Heat & cold, they thought, the Plague would feede
Which, like a Ierffe, still sinn;d in gluttony.
The heau'nly Coape was now ore-canopide,
(Neere each ones Zenith (as his sense suppos'd)
With ominous impressions, strangely died,
And like a Canopie at toppe it clos'd.
As if it had presag'd the Iudge was nie,
To sit in Iudgement his last doome to giue,
And caus'd his cloth of State t'adorne the Skie
That All his neare approach might so perceiue
Now fall the people vnto publike Fast,
And all assemble in the Church to pray;
Earely, and late, their soules, there take repast,
As if preparing for the later day!
Where (fasting) meeting with the sound and sicke,
The sicke the sound do plage, while they do pray;
To haste before the Iudge the dead and quicke,
And pull each other so, in post, away.
Now Angells laugh to see how contrite hearts
Incounter Death, and scorne his Tiranny;
Their Iudge doth ioy to see them play their parts,
That erst so liu'd as if they ne'r should die.
Vp go their harts & hands, and downe their knees,
While Death wēt vp & down, to bring thē down;
That vp they might at once (not by degrees)
Vnto the High'st, that doth the humble crowne!
235
Of Heau'n, and Hell, were worne with throngs of ghosts
Ne'r since the Deluge, did they so before,
Nor euer since so pollisht the side-posts.
The Angells, good and bad, are now all toil'd
With intertaining of these ceaselesse throngs;
With howling some (in heat and horror broild)
And othersome in blisse, with ioyfull Songs.
Th'infernall Legions, in Battallions,
Seeke to inlarge their kingdome, lest it should
Be cloid with Collonies of wicked ones;
For now it held, more then it well could hold!
The Angells, on the Cristall walls of Heau'n,
Holpe thousands ore the Gates so glutted were;
To whom authoritie by Grace was giu'n
(The prease was such) to helpe them ouer there.
The Cherubin eie-blinding Maiestie
Vpon his Throne (that euer blest hath bin)
Is compast with vnwonted Company,
And smiles to see how Angells helpe them in.
The heau'nly streets do glitter (like the Sunne)
With throngs of Sonnes but newly glorifide;
Who still to praise their Glorifier runne
Along those streets, full fraught on either side.
Now was the earthly Mammon, which had held
Their Harts to Earth, held most contagious;
A Beggar scornd to touch it (so defilde)
So, none but castawaies were covetous.
Now Auarice was turned Cherubin,
Who nought desir'd but the extreamest Good;
236
So, to the Time she sought to suite her moode,
The loathsome Leacher loath'd his wonted sport;
For, now he thought all flesh was most corrupt:
The brainsicke brawler waxed all-amort;
For, such blood-suckers Bane did interrupt.
The Pastors now, steep all their words in Brine,
With woe, woe, woe, and nought is heard but woe;
Woe and alas, they say, the powres diuine
Are bent Mankind, for sinne to ouerthrow.
Repent, repent, (like Ionas) now they crie,
Ye men of England, O repent, repent;
To see if so yee maie moue Pitties Eye,
To looke vpon you, ere you quite be spent.
And oft whilst he breathes out thess bitter Words,
He, drawing breath, drawes in more bitter Bane:
For, now the Aire, no Aire but death affords;
And lights of Art (for helpe) were in the wane.
Nor people praying, nor the Pastor preaching,
Death spared ought; but murd'red one and other;
He was a walme, he could not stay impeaching,
Who smoakt with heat, & chokt, all with the smother.
The babe new born he nipt strait in the head
With aire that through his yet vnclosed Mould
Did pierce his brains, & throgh thē poison spread,
So left his life, that scarse had life in hold.
The Mother after hies, the Father posts
After the Mother; Thus, at Base they runne
Vnto the Gole of that great Lord of Hoasts
That for those keepes it that runnes for his Sonne.
237
Such lose the Gole without gainesaying-strife;
But, all, and some, are as Deaths Messengers
To fetch both one and other out of life.
The Sire doth fetch the Sonne, the Sonne the Sire,
Death, being impartiall, makes his Subiects so:
The Priuate's not respected, but intire
(Death pointing out the way) away they go.
The ceremonie at their Burialls
Is Ashes but to Ashes, Dust, to Dust;
Nay not so much; for, strait the Pit-man falles
(If he can stand) to hide them as he must.
A Mount thus made, vpon his Spade he leanes
(Tired with toile) yet (tired) prest to toile)
Till Death an heape, in his inn'd Haruest, gleanes,
That so he may, by heapes, eft seed the Soile.
Not long he staies, but (ah) a mightier heape
Then erst he hid, is made strait to be hild;
The Land is scarse, but yet the Seed is cheape,
For, all is full, or rather ouerfill'd.
The Beere is laid away, and Cribbes they get
To fetch more dung for Fields and Garden-plots;
Worke-men are scarse, the labour is so great,
That (ah) the Seede, vnburied, often rottes.
It rottes, and makes the Land thereby the worse,
For, being rotten, it ill vapors breedes,
Which many mortall miseries doe nurse,
And the Plague (ouerfed) so, ouerfeedes.
Here lies an humane Carcasse halfe consum'd;
And there some fow or beast, in selfe same plight;
238
That all it touched, it consumed quite.
Quite through the hoast of Natures Animalls
Death like a Conquerer in Triumph rides;
And ere he came too neare, each Creature falls,
His dreadfull presence then no flesh abides.
Now man to man (if euer) fiends became,
Feare of infection choakt Humanitie;
The emptie Maw (abandon'd) got but blame
If it had once but sought for Charitie.
The Poore must not about, to seeke for foode,
And no man sought them, that they might be fed;
Two Plagues, in one, inuaded so their blood,
Both Famine, and Infection strikes them dead.
Some staid, in hope that Death would be appeas'd,
And kept the towns, which thē & theirs had kept;
Till their next neighbors were (perhaps) diseas'd;
Or with Deaths fatall Fanne away were swept.
Thē, fain wold fly but could not (thogh thei wold)
For, wil they, nill they, they must keep their house,
Till throgh some chink, on thē Death taketh hold,
And vs'd them, as he did their neighbours vse.
If any at some Posterne could get out,
As good they staid, sith sure they staid should be;
For, all the Countries watcht were round about,
That from the towne, none might a furlong flee.
Then, who from Death did flie, the feare of Death
Made Free-men keep the fliers in his Iawes;
Where (poison'd with his fowle infectious breath)
Their flesh and bones he (ne'r suffized) gnawes.
239
As it neare famisht were, lest in a while
It might be so, and want whereon to feede;
So fed, the future hunger to beguile.
Now doth it swell (hold hide) nay, breake, or die)
Till skin doth crack, to make more room for meat
Yet meat, more meate it (neuer cloid) doth crie,
And all about doth runne the same to get.
The Graues do often vomit out their dead,
They are so ouer-gorg'd, with great, and small;
Who hardly, with the earth are couered;
So, oft discouer'd when the Earth did fall.
Those which in hie- waies died (as many did)
Some worthlesse wretch, hir'd for no worthles fee,
Makes a rude hole, some distance him beside,
And rakes him in farre off; so, there lies hee.
But, if the Pit-man haue not so much sense
To see, nor feele which way the winde doth sit
To take the same, he hardly comes from thence,
But, for himselfe (perhaps) he makes the pit:
For, the contagion was so violent,
(The wil of Heau'n ordaining so the same)
As often strooke stone-dead incontinent,
And Natures strongest forces strait orecame.
Here lieth one vpon his burning brest,
Vpon the Earths cold breast, and dies outright;
Who wanting buriall, doth the Aire infest,
That like a Basaliske he banes with sight!
There reeles another like one deadly druncke,
But newly strooke (perhaps) then downe he falls,
240
But forthwith dies, and so lies by the walles,
The Hay-cockes in the Meades were oft opprest
With plaguy Bodies, both aliue, and dead;
Which being vs'd, confounded Man and Beast,
And vs'd they might be ere discouered.
For, some (like Ghosts) wold walk out in the night,
The Citie glowing (furnace-like) with heate
Of this contagion, to seeke if they might,
Fresh aire, where oft they died for want of meate.
The Traueler that spied (perhaps his Sire)
Another farre off, comming towards him
Would flie, as from a flying flame of fire
That would, if it he met, waste life and limbe.
So, towns fear'd townes, and men ech other fear'd;
All were (at least) attainted with suspect,
And, sooth to say, so was their enuy stirr'd,
That one would seeke another to infect:
For, whether the disease to enuy mou'd,
Or humane natures malice was the cause,
Th'infected often all Conclusions prou'd
To plague him that frō thē himselfe withdrawes!
Here do they Gloues, and there they Garters fall;
Ruffs, Cuffs, & handkerchers, and such like things
They strow about, so to endanger all:
For, Enuy now, most pestilently stings!
So, heau'n and earth, against Man did conspire,
And Man against Man, to exrirpe his Race;
Who Bellowes were t'augment Infections fire,
And blow abroad the same from place to place.
241
From towne to towne, to make them desolate;
The Browne-Bill was too short to keep it thence,
For, further off it raught the Bill-mans pate.
Nor walls could keepe it out; for, it is said
(And truely too) that Hunger breakes stone-walls:
The plague of Hunger with the Plagne arrai'd
It selfe, to make way, where ere Succour calls.
For, hungrie Armies fight as Fiends they were:
No humane powre can well their force withstand:
They laugh to scorne the shaking of the Speare:
And gainst the gods thēselues, thēselues dare band
Some ranne as mad (or with wine ouer-shot)
From house to house, when botches on them ranne;
Who, though they menac'd were with Sword, and Shot,
Yet forward ran, & feare nor God nor man!
As when a Ship, at Sea, is set on fire,
And (all on flame's) winde-driuen on a Fleete,
The Fleete doth flie, sith that Ship doth desire
(Maugre all force oppos'd) with it to meete:
So flies the Bill-man, and the Muskettire
From the approaching desperate plaguy wight,
As from a flying flame of quenchlesse fire;
For, who hath any life, with Death to fight?
At all, cries Death, then downe by heaps they fall:
He drawes in By, and Maine, amaine he drawes
Huge heapes together, and still cries, At all:
His hand is in, and none his hand withdrawes.
For, looke how Leaues in Autumne from the tree
With wind do fall, whose heaps fil holes in groūd;
242
Fall by great heapes, and fill vp holes profound.
No holy Turffe was left to hide the head
Of holiest men; but, most vnhall'wed grounds
(Ditches and Hie-waies) must receiue the dead,
The dead (ah woe the while) so oreabounds!
Here might ye see as t'were a Mountainet
Founded on Bodies, grounded very deepe,
Which like a Trophee of Deaths Triumphs set
The world on wonder, that did wondring weepe:
For, to the middle Region of the Aire,
Our earthly Region was infected so,
That Foules therein had cause of iust dispaire,
As those which ouer Zodome dying go!
Some common Carriers, (for their owne behoofe,
And for their good, whose Soules for gaines doe
Fetching frō Lōdō packs of Plags, & stuffe (grone)
Are forc'd to inne it, in some Barne alone.
Where, lest it should the Country sacrifise,
Barne, Corne, and Stuffe a Sacrifice is sent
(In Aire-refining Flames) to th'angrie Skies,
While th'owners do their Faults & Losse lament.
The Carriers, to some Pest-house, or their owne,
Carried, clapt vp, and watcht for comming out,
Must there with Time or Death conuerse alone,
Till Time or Death doth free the world of doubt:
Who thogh they Cariers were, yet being too weak
Such heauy double Plagues as these to beare,
Out of their houses som by force do break,
And
This no fiction, nor inserted by poeticall licence: But this verily was performed in the borough of Leominster in the county of Hereford: the one at the commandement of sir Herbert Crost knight, one of the Councell of the Marcher of Wales: the other by the instigation of Sathan, and prococation of the disease.
243
Fit for his Iustice, Powre, and Maiestie;
These are right ierkes of diuine Furies Rod,
That draw from Flesh the life-blood mortally.
If these are but his temp'rall Punishments,
Then what are they surmounting Time and Fate?
Melt Flesh to thinke but on such Languishments,
That Soule and Bodie burne in endlesse date.
His vtmost Plagues extend beyond the reach
Of comprehension of the deepest Thought;
For, he his wisedome infinite doth stretch
To make them absolutely good for nought.
Then, O what heart of sensible Discourse,
Quakes not, as if it would in sunder fall,
But once to thinke vpon such Furies force,
As doth so farre surmount the thoughts of all?
If humane Wisedome in the highest straine,
Should yet stretch further Torments to deuise,
They would be such that none could them sustain,
Through weight of woes, and raging agonies:
Then (O) what be they that deuised are
By Wisedome that of Nought made all this All,
That stretch as farre past speach, as past compare,
Surmounting Wonder; supernaturall!
They be the Iudgements of that Trinitie,
Which (like themselues) are most inscrutable;
Then can mans heart, but either swoone or die,
To thinke on anguish, so vnthinkeable.
And can our Sense, our Sense so much besot,
To thinke such worlds of woe no where exist,
244
And so in sinne (till they be felt) insist?
Then happy That, that is insensible,
Since wee imploy our happinesse of Sense
To feele and taste but pleasures sensible;
And see no Paine that at their end commence.
To breake the Belly of our damn'd Desires
With honied Sweets that soone to poison turne;
And in our Soules enkindle quenchlesse fires,
Which all the frame thereof quite ouerturne.
To please it selfe a Moment, and displease
It selfe for euer, with ne'r-ending paines;
To ease the Bodie with the Soules disease,
To glad the Guttes, to grieue the Heart & Braines.
To make the Throat a Through-fare for Excesse,
The Belly a Charibdis for the same;
To vse Wit still but onely to transgresse,
And make our Sense the Spunge of Sin & Shame:
Then happy are sweet Floures that liue and die
(Without offence) most pleasing vnto all:
And haplesse Man that liues vnpleasingly
To Heau'n and Earth; so, liues and dies to fall.
The Rose doth liue a sweete life, but to please,
And when it dies, it leaues sweet fruit behinde;
But Man in Life and Death doth none of these,
If Grace by Miracle ne'r mend his mind.
Blush Man, that Floures should so thy selfe excell
That wast created to excell what not?
That on the Earth created was to dwell;
Then blush for shame to grace thy Beauties blot.
245
Betwixt immortall Angells, and bruit beasts?
Yet wilt twixt beasts and fiends be Horizon
By that which Angells grieues, and God detests?
Then Plagues must follow thy misguided Will,
So to correct thine ill-directing Wit;
Such as these are, or others much more ill,
The worst of which Sinne (ill of Ills) befit.
And loe, for Sinne; how yet the Plague doth rage
(With vnappeased furie) more and more,
Making our Troy-nouant a tragicke Stage
Whereon to shew Deaths powre, with slaughters sore.
Great Monarch of Earths ample world he is;
And of our little Worlds (that worlds content)
He giues ill Subiects Bale, good Subiects Blisse;
So, though he raignes, iust is his Regiment.
Our sins (foule blots) corrupt the Earth and Aire;
Our sins (soules botches) all this All defile;
And make our Soules most foule, that were most faire;
For, nought but sin we all, all nought the while!
When sharpest wits are whetted to the point,
To pierce into all secrets, but to sinne!
And all the corps of Luxury vnioint,
To see what sensuall ioy might be therein:
When as such trickes as no Sunne euer saw
Deuis'd are daily by the Serpent-wise,
To cramme all Flesh into the Deuills maw
By drifts, as scarse the Deuill can deuise!
Can God (most iust) be good to men so ill?
And can the Earth, and Aire, wherein such liue,
246
That Aire, and Earth, that do such plagues reliue.
What are those men but plagues, that plague but men?
All men are such, that teach sin in effect;
And all do so, that sinne but now and then,
If now and then they sinne, in ouertact.
What can containe vs, if these plagues cannot?
If neither these we feele, nor those we shall,
Be not of force to keepe our liues from blot,
What then remaines but plagues to scowre vs all?
Till we wax lesse, and they so multiplide,
That we be nothing lesse, than what we are;
Conuerted, or confounded we abide
In, or without God, with, or without care!
If when his yron Rod drawes blood from vs,
And is vpon our backes, yea breakes our bones,
We cease not yet to be rebellious,
What can conuert vs but plagues for the nones!
For Natures heart doth yrne with extreame griefe,
When wel she weighs her childrens strange estate,
Subiect to sinne, and so to sorrowes chiefe,
For both in counterchange renew their date:
For now we sinne (yea with a witnesse sinne,
Witnesse our conscience) then we plagued are,
Plagu'd with a witnes, (witnesse plagues that
With fury on vs) then, when so we fare
Fall we to pray and creepe to Grace for grace,
Which being got, and ease, and weale at will,
We fall to sinne, and so our soules disgrace:
Thus sinne and plagues runne round about vs still
247
Surroundeth Mankinde in an hell of woe,
Man is the Axis standing still therein,
And goes with it where euer it doth goe;
For since he fell, who at this Center staies
By Nature (most vnnaturall the while)
Here moues man mouelesse as the Axis plaies,
And Times turns (turning with him) doth beguile.
And yet this Plague (if Griefs tears quench it not)
Is like a sparke of fire in flax too drie,
And may, if our Lusts coole not, burne more hot
Than erst it did; so waste vs vtterly.
We see it will not out, but still it lies
In our best Cities Bowells like a Cole
That threats to flame, and stil doth fall and rise,
Wasting a part, thereby to warne the whole.
None otherwise than when (with griefe) we see
Some house on fire, we strait, to saue the towne,
Watch, fast, and pray, and most industrious bee,
With hooke and line to pull the Building downe:
So doth this fire of heau'ns still kindling ire
Blister our Cities publike Body so,
As we are blister'd, but with so much fire,
As we may quench with teares if they do flo.
But if it should breake forth in flames afresh,
(As (ah) what staies it but vnstinted Grace?)
What thing shuld quench it but a world of Flesh?
Or desolation it away to chace?
Time neuer knew since he beganne his houres,
(For aught we reade) a Plague so long remaine
248
For now six yeares in London it hath laine.
Where none goes out, but at his comming in,
If he but feeles the tendrest touch of smart,
He feares he is Plague-smitten for his sinne;
So, ere hee's plagu'd, he takes It to the heart:
For, Feare doth (Loadstone-like) it oft attract,
That else would not come neere; or steale away;
And yet this plaguy-feare will scarse coact
Our Soules to sinne no more, this Plague to slay.
But thou, in whose high hand all hearts are held,
Conuert vs, and from vs this Plague auert:
So sin shall yeeld to Grace, and Grace shall yeeld
The Giuer glory for so deere desert.
Too deere for such too worthles wicked Things,
At best but clods of base Infirmitie;
Too deere for sinne that all this murraine brings;
Too deere for those that liue but twice to die.
In few, what should I say? the best are nought
That breathe, since man first breathing did rebell:
The best that breath are worse thā may be thoght,
If Thought can thinke the best can do but well:
For, none doth well on Earth, but such as will
Confesse (with griefe) they do exceeding ill!
The best is but a
Briere, and
none doth good,
But He that makes Vs blamelesse in his Blood.
But He that makes Vs blamelesse in his Blood.
FINIS.
| Humours Heau'n on Earth | |