 |
 | Londons Mourning garment, or Funerall Teares: worne and shed for the death of her wealthy Cittizens, and other her inhabitants. To which is added, a zealous and feruent Prayer, with a true relation how many haue dyed of all diseases, in euery particuler parish within London, the Liberties, and out parishes neere adioyning from the 14 of Iuly 1603 to the 17 of Nouember following [by William Muggins] |  |
LONDONS Mourning garment,
or Funerall Teares: worne and shed for the death of her wealthy Cittizens, and other her inhabitants.
To the Right Worshipfull, Sir Iohn Swinnerton Knight: one of the worshipfull Aldermen, of the honorable Citty of London: VV.M. wisheth Earths Happines, and Heauens Blessednes.
With heauy heart, and sighes of inward Cares,
With wringing hands explayning sorrows wo,
With blubbered cheekes, bedewde with trickling teares
With minde opprest lamenting griefs that flowe,
London lament, and all thy losses showe:
What al? nay some, all were too much to tell,
The learned Homer could not penne it well.
With wringing hands explayning sorrows wo,
With blubbered cheekes, bedewde with trickling teares
With minde opprest lamenting griefs that flowe,
London lament, and all thy losses showe:
What al? nay some, all were too much to tell,
The learned Homer could not penne it well.
Ay me poore London, which of late did florish,
With springing March, the tidings of a King:
And Aprill showers, my blossomes so did nourishe,
That I in Maie, was calde a famous thing,
Yea Townes and Cities did my glory ring:
Nay thorowe the worlde my golden fame so grewe,
That Princes high, crost Seas, my seate to viewe.
With springing March, the tidings of a King:
And Aprill showers, my blossomes so did nourishe,
That I in Maie, was calde a famous thing,
Yea Townes and Cities did my glory ring:
Nay thorowe the worlde my golden fame so grewe,
That Princes high, crost Seas, my seate to viewe.
And like to Agamemnons gallant trayne,
Throughout my streetes, with stately steps did goe,
Where them with welcomes, I did entertaine;
Pleasing their liking, with each seuerall showe,
Where they in me, much treasure did bestowe,
Honouring the Church with Prayers, the Change with golde,
Where Princes bought, and beauteous Virgins solde.
Throughout my streetes, with stately steps did goe,
Where them with welcomes, I did entertaine;
Pleasing their liking, with each seuerall showe,
Where they in me, much treasure did bestowe,
Honouring the Church with Prayers, the Change with golde,
Where Princes bought, and beauteous Virgins solde.
To adde more glory to my prosperous state,
My Soueraigne Lord, most high and mighty King,
Made oft repayre, both Moining, Eu'en and late,
To me both gainefull, and a pleasant thing:
My heart was glad, my voice Sol, Fa, did sing,
My head did muse, not strucke with sorrowes sad,
But how to make, my crowned Soueraigne glad.
My Soueraigne Lord, most high and mighty King,
Made oft repayre, both Moining, Eu'en and late,
To me both gainefull, and a pleasant thing:
My heart was glad, my voice Sol, Fa, did sing,
My head did muse, not strucke with sorrowes sad,
But how to make, my crowned Soueraigne glad.
And as a Bryde, against her Nuptiall day,
Doth deck her selfe, with fayre and rich attyre,
Accompanide with Damsells fresh and gay,
To plight her faith, to him she did desire
Euen so did I with zeale as hot as fyer.
Prepare my selfe against this day of ioye,
To giue him welcome, with Vive Le Roye.
Doth deck her selfe, with fayre and rich attyre,
Accompanide with Damsells fresh and gay,
To plight her faith, to him she did desire
Euen so did I with zeale as hot as fyer.
Prepare my selfe against this day of ioye,
To giue him welcome, with Vive Le Roye.
My Magistrates were all so ready prest
In skarlet rich, this potent Prince to greet:
My wealthy Free men also wrought their best,
Preparing Pageants in each famous street.
My Marchant-strangers laboured hands and feete,
And scattered coyne, like Ivpiters showres of Golde,
Hoping with ioy this Cesar to behold.
In skarlet rich, this potent Prince to greet:
My wealthy Free men also wrought their best,
Preparing Pageants in each famous street.
My Marchant-strangers laboured hands and feete,
And scattered coyne, like Ivpiters showres of Golde,
Hoping with ioy this Cesar to behold.
And as those men the wealthiest in my Bower,
Was neuer sparing in this good intent,
So did my Artisants with all their power,
For loue or gaine, to worke were ready bent.
Pigmalion foorth his skilfull Caruers sent?
Cunning Appelles with his pencill drew
Prospectious strange, for King and Peeres to veiw.
Was neuer sparing in this good intent,
So did my Artisants with all their power,
For loue or gaine, to worke were ready bent.
Pigmalion foorth his skilfull Caruers sent?
Cunning Appelles with his pencill drew
Prospectious strange, for King and Peeres to veiw.
But oh, a sudden qualme doth crosse my heart
twixt cup and lip are dangers oft we see,
Vnwelcome death approcheth with his dart,
Yelping, oh, London, thou must yeeld to mee:
I must haue rootes and branches for my fee.
The fruits full ripe and blossomes that might grow
Are mine, not thine, the Fates decree'd it so.
twixt cup and lip are dangers oft we see,
Vnwelcome death approcheth with his dart,
Yelping, oh, London, thou must yeeld to mee:
I must haue rootes and branches for my fee.
The fruits full ripe and blossomes that might grow
Are mine, not thine, the Fates decree'd it so.
Drown'd in deepe seas (poore Lady) thus I lye,
Vnlesse some speedie helpe a comfort yeeld:
Is there no wife nor widdow that will hye,
And reach a hand that hath some sorrowes felt,
My griefes are more then I my selfe can welde,
Helpe some good woman with your soules-sigh deepe,
For you are tender hearted and can weepe.
Vnlesse some speedie helpe a comfort yeeld:
Is there no wife nor widdow that will hye,
And reach a hand that hath some sorrowes felt,
My griefes are more then I my selfe can welde,
Helpe some good woman with your soules-sigh deepe,
For you are tender hearted and can weepe.
VVhat none? nay, then I see the Prouerbe old is true,
The widdowes care is studious where to loue,
Sith women are so fickle, men to you,
London laments, will ye her plaints remoue.
Theare no Eccho; men like women proue,
VVidowers for wiues, widdowes for husbands seeke,
Before the teares are dryed from their cheekes.
The widdowes care is studious where to loue,
Sith women are so fickle, men to you,
London laments, will ye her plaints remoue.
Theare no Eccho; men like women proue,
VVidowers for wiues, widdowes for husbands seeke,
Before the teares are dryed from their cheekes.
To children then I will my sorrowes shew,
VVhose Parents lately in the graue were layde;
Their hearts with sighs will cause fresh teares to flow,
And reach a hand for sorrowing Londons ayde.
Come children mourne, I cry but am denayde,
Their Parents riches so inflames their brest,
That they long since did wish them at their rest.
VVhose Parents lately in the graue were layde;
Their hearts with sighs will cause fresh teares to flow,
And reach a hand for sorrowing Londons ayde.
Come children mourne, I cry but am denayde,
Their Parents riches so inflames their brest,
That they long since did wish them at their rest.
VVhere, or to whom, may I my voyce set forth?
Men mourne for men, where friendship long hath bred:
Fye no (good Lady) there is found small troth,
The liuing Friend deceiues the friend that's dead,
Robbing his children with a subtill head:
By reason he executor, made the drowne
By wresting Law, the riches are his owne.
Men mourne for men, where friendship long hath bred:
Fye no (good Lady) there is found small troth,
The liuing Friend deceiues the friend that's dead,
Robbing his children with a subtill head:
By reason he executor, made the drowne
By wresting Law, the riches are his owne.
Oh (helplesse Lady) whither shall I flye,
To find true mourners in this sad lament?
To aged people; no, their heads are dry,
They cannot weepe, long since their teares were spent:
To middle age? (alas) their wits are bent
To purchase lands and liuings for their heires,
Or by long life, to gainé which other spares.
To find true mourners in this sad lament?
To aged people; no, their heads are dry,
They cannot weepe, long since their teares were spent:
To middle age? (alas) their wits are bent
To purchase lands and liuings for their heires,
Or by long life, to gainé which other spares.
The louing seruant may yet helpe at neede,
That now hath lost his Master and his stay,
Sending foorth sithings till the heart doth bleed:
Oh, London, thou in vaine to him doest pray,
His power and wits he bends another way:
His Masters custoine, shoppe, and trade to get,
Is all the teares, the blithe yong man can let.
That now hath lost his Master and his stay,
Sending foorth sithings till the heart doth bleed:
Oh, London, thou in vaine to him doest pray,
His power and wits he bends another way:
His Masters custoine, shoppe, and trade to get,
Is all the teares, the blithe yong man can let.
Is there none then, that will take Londons part?
And help to sing, a welcome vnto wo?
Is there none founde, that feeles a present smart?
Nor none a-liue, that can cause Teares to flow?
If any be? then freely them bestow.
Two mourne together, swage ech others grief,
Weepe on a while, and I will be the chiefe.
And help to sing, a welcome vnto wo?
Is there none founde, that feeles a present smart?
Nor none a-liue, that can cause Teares to flow?
If any be? then freely them bestow.
Two mourne together, swage ech others grief,
Weepe on a while, and I will be the chiefe.
I heare no answere yet in these estates,
Let me but study, where, and whom to seeke,
Oh, now I haue bethought me, come on mates,
For you and I, must mourne it by the weeke:
And neuer will, new teares, be long to seeke.
For Parents loue, vnto their Children deare,
In iudgment sounde, nothing can come more neare.
Let me but study, where, and whom to seeke,
Oh, now I haue bethought me, come on mates,
For you and I, must mourne it by the weeke:
And neuer will, new teares, be long to seeke.
For Parents loue, vnto their Children deare,
In iudgment sounde, nothing can come more neare.
The loue of Parents, are like Grasses that grow,
Euer encreasing, till it proue a tree:
The loue of Children, like the melting Snow,
Euer decreasing, till an ende there be,
Dayly experience, proues this true we see,
Loue to the Children, euermore dependes:
But to the Parents, seldome re-discendes.
Euer encreasing, till it proue a tree:
The loue of Children, like the melting Snow,
Euer decreasing, till an ende there be,
Dayly experience, proues this true we see,
Loue to the Children, euermore dependes:
But to the Parents, seldome re-discendes.
And now I haue, with trauel, griefe and paine,
Founde foorth two mourners, that will Agents be:
Choose which of vs, shal settle to complaine,
Or if you will, leaue all the chardge to me:
Onely I with you, to abandon glee.
And to my voice, prepare your glowing Eares,
With sighes and groanes, and sometimes scalding Teares.
Founde foorth two mourners, that will Agents be:
Choose which of vs, shal settle to complaine,
Or if you will, leaue all the chardge to me:
Onely I with you, to abandon glee.
And to my voice, prepare your glowing Eares,
With sighes and groanes, and sometimes scalding Teares.
And if to high my warbling notes ascendes,
Iudge me not bolde but zealous in my loue:
If that too lowe, thinke that with sighes for friendes,
My voice is hoarse, yet I againe will proue.
The vtmost power, I can for to remoue,
Your too forgetfull, sorrowes which are drye,
And place them now, a fresh in memory,
Iudge me not bolde but zealous in my loue:
If that too lowe, thinke that with sighes for friendes,
My voice is hoarse, yet I againe will proue.
The vtmost power, I can for to remoue,
Your too forgetfull, sorrowes which are drye,
And place them now, a fresh in memory,
Art thou a Father, or a Mother deare?
Hadst thou a Sonne, or Daughter of thy side:
Were not their voice, sweete musicke in thy Eare,
Or from their smiles, could'st thou thy countnance hide.
Nay, were they not, the glories of thy pride?
I doubt too much, thy loue on them were set,
That whilst thou liuest, thou canst not them forget.
Hadst thou a Sonne, or Daughter of thy side:
Were not their voice, sweete musicke in thy Eare,
Or from their smiles, could'st thou thy countnance hide.
Nay, were they not, the glories of thy pride?
I doubt too much, thy loue on them were set,
That whilst thou liuest, thou canst not them forget.
Remember well, you Dames of London Cittie,
As for you men, ile leaue you for a while,
Because small paines, deserues the lesser pity,
And you are stronger, sorrowes to begyle:
A space we will, your company exile,
And bid you farewell, till another day,
When time and place, will giue you cause of stay.
As for you men, ile leaue you for a while,
Because small paines, deserues the lesser pity,
And you are stronger, sorrowes to begyle:
A space we will, your company exile,
And bid you farewell, till another day,
When time and place, will giue you cause of stay.
And now my harts, olde Widdowes and yong wiues,
You that in silence, sit so sad and mute:
You that wring hands, as weary of your liues,
Heare London speake, she wil expresse your suite.
I know your sighes, is for your tender fruite.
Fruite in the budde, in blossome ripe and growne,
All deare to you, now death hath made his owne.
You that in silence, sit so sad and mute:
You that wring hands, as weary of your liues,
Heare London speake, she wil expresse your suite.
I know your sighes, is for your tender fruite.
Fruite in the budde, in blossome ripe and growne,
All deare to you, now death hath made his owne.
And as the greedy Wolfe, from harmeles Ewes,
Robbs them of Lambes, sucking their tender Tett:
And in his Rigour, no compassion shewes,
But gormondizing, kils them for his meate.
Euen so deaths fury, now is growne so great,
The tender Lambe, will not fury stay.
Both Lambes and Ewes, he swalowes for his pray.
Robbs them of Lambes, sucking their tender Tett:
And in his Rigour, no compassion shewes,
But gormondizing, kils them for his meate.
Euen so deaths fury, now is growne so great,
The tender Lambe, will not fury stay.
Both Lambes and Ewes, he swalowes for his pray.
Witnes I can, poore London for my part,
What palefac't Death, within fiue Monthes hath wrought
Seauen hundred Widdowes, wounded to the Hart,
With their sweet Babes, which they full dearely bought,
Some dead new borne, some neuer forth were brought,
You Mothers weepe, if euer you bore any,
To thinke how sore, Death did perplexe so many.
What palefac't Death, within fiue Monthes hath wrought
Seauen hundred Widdowes, wounded to the Hart,
With their sweet Babes, which they full dearely bought,
Some dead new borne, some neuer forth were brought,
You Mothers weepe, if euer you bore any,
To thinke how sore, Death did perplexe so many.
Not yet content, he Rageth vp and downe,
And secretly, his heauy visage shewes:
In euery streete, and corner of the Towne,
Emptyeing whole houses, soone whereas he goes,
Taking away, both olde and young God knowes,
The weeping Mother, and the Infant cleare,
The louing Brother, and the Sister deare.
And secretly, his heauy visage shewes:
In euery streete, and corner of the Towne,
Emptyeing whole houses, soone whereas he goes,
Taking away, both olde and young God knowes,
The weeping Mother, and the Infant cleare,
The louing Brother, and the Sister deare.
Oh, mothers sigh, sit and shed teares a while,
Expell your idle pleasures, thinke on woes:
Make not so much as countenance of a smile
But with downe lookes, which inward sorrow showes,
And now a fresh, remember all your throwes,
Your gripes your panges, your bodies pincht with paine,
As if this instant, you did them sustaine
Expell your idle pleasures, thinke on woes:
Make not so much as countenance of a smile
But with downe lookes, which inward sorrow showes,
And now a fresh, remember all your throwes,
Your gripes your panges, your bodies pincht with paine,
As if this instant, you did them sustaine
Let not so much, forgotten be of you,
As the least qualme, that then your harts opprest:
No nor the smallest, dolor did ensue,
As heauy wincks and too too little rest;
Remember al, the sorrowes of thy breast,
Which in the breeding, bearing and deliuery,
You did indure, with paine yet willing
As the least qualme, that then your harts opprest:
No nor the smallest, dolor did ensue,
As heauy wincks and too too little rest;
Remember al, the sorrowes of thy breast,
Which in the breeding, bearing and deliuery,
You did indure, with paine yet willing
Againe bethinke you, at that instant hower,
The little difference, was twixt life and death:
When as the infant, with his naked power,
Laboured for life, to haue his rightfull birth,
And with the sickly, Mother gaspt for breath,
The one nere dead, as nigh to death the other,
Sore to the babe, worse Trauell for the Mother.
The little difference, was twixt life and death:
When as the infant, with his naked power,
Laboured for life, to haue his rightfull birth,
And with the sickly, Mother gaspt for breath,
The one nere dead, as nigh to death the other,
Sore to the babe, worse Trauell for the Mother.
If any Mother, can forget this smart,
Her for a woman, I will neuer take:
And out of Londons, fauor may she part,
And all such brutish, strumpets for her sake:
For such light hus-wiues, I a wish will make,
That neuer any, may approch my Citty,
Euer to want, and no hart them to pittie.
Her for a woman, I will neuer take:
And out of Londons, fauor may she part,
And all such brutish, strumpets for her sake:
For such light hus-wiues, I a wish will make,
That neuer any, may approch my Citty,
Euer to want, and no hart them to pittie.
And now returne I, to you honest wiues,
Who grieuing sits, and sighing send forth Teares,
Which to your Husbands, lyue chast and true liues,
And with your Children, passeth forth your yeares.
To you that Londons, Lamentations heares.
And are true parteners, in my plaints and mones,
Experience shewes it, by your inward groues.
Who grieuing sits, and sighing send forth Teares,
Which to your Husbands, lyue chast and true liues,
And with your Children, passeth forth your yeares.
To you that Londons, Lamentations heares.
And are true parteners, in my plaints and mones,
Experience shewes it, by your inward groues.
The Child new borne, the Mother some deale well
Are all the griefes, and sorrows at an end:
No cares and troubles, yet I haue to tell,
Though Child be swath'de, and sickly Mother mende,
The feeble Infant, many a fret doth send.
Which grieues the Mother, till she weepe againe,
To heare and see, the Infant in such paine.
Are all the griefes, and sorrows at an end:
No cares and troubles, yet I haue to tell,
Though Child be swath'de, and sickly Mother mende,
The feeble Infant, many a fret doth send.
Which grieues the Mother, till she weepe againe,
To heare and see, the Infant in such paine.
And with her feeble, hand and weakely strength,
She playes and dallyes, for the babyes good:
And to her milke-white, brestes doth lay at length
The prety foole, who learnes to take his foode.
His onely meanes, to nourish life and bloud,
He fed, she paynd, he drawes, poore Mother yeelds,
Whose louing brests both shutes and prickings feeles,
She playes and dallyes, for the babyes good:
And to her milke-white, brestes doth lay at length
The prety foole, who learnes to take his foode.
His onely meanes, to nourish life and bloud,
He fed, she paynd, he drawes, poore Mother yeelds,
Whose louing brests both shutes and prickings feeles,
And when the Babe doth gather strength amaine,
Most strongly labouring at his mothers dugge.
She patiently endureth all the paine,
Suffering his lippes her nipple still to lugge,
And with her armes most closely doth it hugge,
As she should say, draw childe and spare not mee,
My brests are thine, I feele no paine with thee.
Most strongly labouring at his mothers dugge.
She patiently endureth all the paine,
Suffering his lippes her nipple still to lugge,
And with her armes most closely doth it hugge,
As she should say, draw childe and spare not mee,
My brests are thine, I feele no paine with thee.
Though that poore heart her brest doth ake full sore,
And inwardly fell prickings shee indures,
Till eyes gush teares, and lippes reach kisses store;
Which in true mothers gladsome ioyes procures,
And to more ardent loue them still allures:
That teares and kisses greet the Babe together,
Like to sunne-shine when it is dropping weather.
And inwardly fell prickings shee indures,
Till eyes gush teares, and lippes reach kisses store;
Which in true mothers gladsome ioyes procures,
And to more ardent loue them still allures:
That teares and kisses greet the Babe together,
Like to sunne-shine when it is dropping weather.
Ymmagin heere, the pretty Lambe doth cry,
The Mother strong, and times of Custome past:
Will, she then leaue it, to the worldes broad Eye,
No, whilst her life, and vitall powers last,
The Mothers loue, to Child is fixte so fast.
She stills it straight, and layes it to her brest,
With kisses more, then Venvs could disgest
The Mother strong, and times of Custome past:
Will, she then leaue it, to the worldes broad Eye,
No, whilst her life, and vitall powers last,
The Mothers loue, to Child is fixte so fast.
She stills it straight, and layes it to her brest,
With kisses more, then Venvs could disgest
And with her Armes, she heaues it high and lowe,
As if a cradle, it sweete foole lay in
Doubt you not to, she kisses did bestow,
And if it smile, a fresh she doth begin.
On prety looke, a hundred kisses winne
My more then sweete, vnto her Child she saith,
I would not for, a Kingdome wish thy Death.
As if a cradle, it sweete foole lay in
Doubt you not to, she kisses did bestow,
And if it smile, a fresh she doth begin.
On prety looke, a hundred kisses winne
My more then sweete, vnto her Child she saith,
I would not for, a Kingdome wish thy Death.
Now is her minde, full fraight with inward ioy,
As if all things, she thought should come to passe:
Vttering forth Sighes, vnto her prety boy,
Shall Death haue thee, and lay thee in the grasse.
Ile rather goe, to Earth from whence I was,
Fell Death goe seeke, for crooked age and olde,
My Child is fayre, vnfitting for the molde.
As if all things, she thought should come to passe:
Vttering forth Sighes, vnto her prety boy,
Shall Death haue thee, and lay thee in the grasse.
Ile rather goe, to Earth from whence I was,
Fell Death goe seeke, for crooked age and olde,
My Child is fayre, vnfitting for the molde.
I hope to see, more comfort and more ioy,
Of this sweete Babe, which cost my life almost:
I pray thee grimme Death, doe not him annoy,
Goe get thee further, to some other Coast.
To kill an Infant giues small cause of boast.
Theres many liuing, that would gladly dye,
Take them away, but spare my Childe and I.
Of this sweete Babe, which cost my life almost:
I pray thee grimme Death, doe not him annoy,
Goe get thee further, to some other Coast.
To kill an Infant giues small cause of boast.
Theres many liuing, that would gladly dye,
Take them away, but spare my Childe and I.
Chast London wiues me thinkes I see you all,
Each seuerall Mother, hauing greefes to shewe,
And with your greefes, I see the Teares doe fall,
The onely Phisicke, women can bestow,
Oh, that I could, but ease your hart sicke woe,
London would spare, no labour cost nor time,
To wipe the water, from your blubbered Eyen.
Each seuerall Mother, hauing greefes to shewe,
And with your greefes, I see the Teares doe fall,
The onely Phisicke, women can bestow,
Oh, that I could, but ease your hart sicke woe,
London would spare, no labour cost nor time,
To wipe the water, from your blubbered Eyen.
But I a skilfull Surgeons part will play,
First search the sore, then minister things meete:
Vnto yovr memories, I your plants will lay,
Causing a fresh your heauie eyes to greete.
Then gentler salues, I meane perswasions sweete;
This is the surgery wounded London layes
To all her Patients, that her hests obayes.
First search the sore, then minister things meete:
Vnto yovr memories, I your plants will lay,
Causing a fresh your heauie eyes to greete.
Then gentler salues, I meane perswasions sweete;
This is the surgery wounded London layes
To all her Patients, that her hests obayes.
One tender mother cryeth loude and shrill,
Wringing her hands, my children both are dead:
Sweet louing Henry, and my eldest gyrle,
Ah Besse, my wench thou hadst thy mother sped
With sorrowes, that will neuer from my head.
Thy forward wit to learning and to awe,
A sweeter daughter neuer woman sawe.
Wringing her hands, my children both are dead:
Sweet louing Henry, and my eldest gyrle,
Ah Besse, my wench thou hadst thy mother sped
With sorrowes, that will neuer from my head.
Thy forward wit to learning and to awe,
A sweeter daughter neuer woman sawe.
Thy flaxen haire, thy collour red and white,
Thy yeeres full ten, thy body straight and tall,
Thy countnance smilling, neither sad nor light,
Thy pleasant eyes, thy hands with fingers small,
Thy manners milde, thy reading best of all,
With needle pregnant, as thy Sampler shewes,
Patient in death like sucking Lambe she goes,
Thy yeeres full ten, thy body straight and tall,
Thy countnance smilling, neither sad nor light,
Thy pleasant eyes, thy hands with fingers small,
Thy manners milde, thy reading best of all,
With needle pregnant, as thy Sampler shewes,
Patient in death like sucking Lambe she goes,
My hopes were that I might haue kept thy life
To see more yeeres, and be a beutious Mayde;
To see thee match't, and be a London wife,
To see thy childe-bed, and be safely layde,
To see thy children in the streete haue playde:
To cheere my age, as should a louing daughter,
But thou art gone, and I must follow after.
To see more yeeres, and be a beutious Mayde;
To see thee match't, and be a London wife,
To see thy childe-bed, and be safely layde,
To see thy children in the streete haue playde:
To cheere my age, as should a louing daughter,
But thou art gone, and I must follow after.
My little Henrie, oh, that prety foole;
That oft hath made my sorrowing heart full glad,
His words were Mamma: sit, here is a stoole,
Some bread and butter I haue nothing had;
Ile busse you well, (good Mamma) be not sad,
Vp on cock-high, I will sit in your lappe,
Where oft (poore sweeting) he hath caught a nappe.
That oft hath made my sorrowing heart full glad,
His words were Mamma: sit, here is a stoole,
Some bread and butter I haue nothing had;
Ile busse you well, (good Mamma) be not sad,
Vp on cock-high, I will sit in your lappe,
Where oft (poore sweeting) he hath caught a nappe.
And if sometimes, he hearde his Father chide,
As housholde wordes, may passe twixt man and wife:
Vnto my Husbande, presently he hyed
As he should say, I will appease the strife;
And with his Childish mirth, and pleasvres rife.
Abates the heat, and makes vs both to ioy:
To see such nature, in the little Boy.
As housholde wordes, may passe twixt man and wife:
Vnto my Husbande, presently he hyed
As he should say, I will appease the strife;
And with his Childish mirth, and pleasvres rife.
Abates the heat, and makes vs both to ioy:
To see such nature, in the little Boy.
But Death, oh Death, that hater of my wealth
Hath slaine my Daughter, and my little Sonne:
Both of them proppes, vnto my wished health
Both to haue kept, I woulde barefoote haue runne:
Fel Atropos, her fatall stroke hath done;
With the eternall. I beleue they rest,
Oh, happy Babes, for euer they are blest.
Hath slaine my Daughter, and my little Sonne:
Both of them proppes, vnto my wished health
Both to haue kept, I woulde barefoote haue runne:
Fel Atropos, her fatall stroke hath done;
With the eternall. I beleue they rest,
Oh, happy Babes, for euer they are blest.
Step after Step, I see another come,
Casting her handes, abroade, as shee were wood:
Seeming to tell a heauy tale to some,
But silly Dame, thou art not vnderstoode;
Speake mildely, lowly, not with chasing bloude:
For hastie speach, hath seldome reason showne,
When soft deliuerance, makes the matter knowne.
Casting her handes, abroade, as shee were wood:
Seeming to tell a heauy tale to some,
But silly Dame, thou art not vnderstoode;
Speake mildely, lowly, not with chasing bloude:
For hastie speach, hath seldome reason showne,
When soft deliuerance, makes the matter knowne.
I am a Widdow poore, Christ shew me pittie,
Feeble and weake of yeeres, three score and ten:
I had two Daughters, married in the Cittie,
Both of them well, & vnto honest men;
They had my loues, and I had theirs againe:
With them I hop't to spend my aged yeeres,
And to be buried, with their funerall teares.
Feeble and weake of yeeres, three score and ten:
I had two Daughters, married in the Cittie,
Both of them well, & vnto honest men;
They had my loues, and I had theirs againe:
With them I hop't to spend my aged yeeres,
And to be buried, with their funerall teares.
To them I gaue, that little I possest,
With them to dwel, as long as life ensured:
Three Monthes with one, my Custome was to rest,
Then, with the other, I like space endured:
With vs the Diuel, no iarres nor brawles procured.
But liued and lou'de, as quiet as might be,
I bore with them, they dayly honouring me.
With them to dwel, as long as life ensured:
Three Monthes with one, my Custome was to rest,
Then, with the other, I like space endured:
With vs the Diuel, no iarres nor brawles procured.
But liued and lou'de, as quiet as might be,
I bore with them, they dayly honouring me.
But now alas, a heauy Tale to tell,
As with my Chickins, I at pleasure slept:
Comes the great Puttocke, with his Tallantes fel,
And from me quite, my youngest Chicken swept;
Then to the other, he full nimbly leapt,
Seazing on her, as hee had done the other,
Oh greedy Death, could'st thou not take their Mother?
As with my Chickins, I at pleasure slept:
Comes the great Puttocke, with his Tallantes fel,
And from me quite, my youngest Chicken swept;
Then to the other, he full nimbly leapt,
Seazing on her, as hee had done the other,
Oh greedy Death, could'st thou not take their Mother?
My age is fitter for the yawning Graue,
Their yeeres more tender in the worlde so stay:
My bones are dry, and would their porcions haue,
Their Lymmes were nimble, and a while might play;
My bloude is colde, theires hote, mine weares away.
They both were matched, & fruite might bring foorth store
I olde and withered, and can yeelde no more.
Their yeeres more tender in the worlde so stay:
My bones are dry, and would their porcions haue,
Their Lymmes were nimble, and a while might play;
My bloude is colde, theires hote, mine weares away.
They both were matched, & fruite might bring foorth store
I olde and withered, and can yeelde no more.
Thou cruel leane, and ill deformed Death,
Thou great intruder, and vn-welcomde guest:
Thou palefac't hog, thou shortner of long breath,
Thou mighty murdrer, of both man & beast:
VVhy doest thou not, inuite me to thy feast?
And on my body, shew thy fury great
That lackes house, lodging, sight, & what to eate.
Thou great intruder, and vn-welcomde guest:
Thou palefac't hog, thou shortner of long breath,
Thou mighty murdrer, of both man & beast:
VVhy doest thou not, inuite me to thy feast?
And on my body, shew thy fury great
That lackes house, lodging, sight, & what to eate.
VVith lamentations, and with Teares good store,
Ymmagin now, you heare a Mothers griefe:
Shee most of all, her sorrowes doth deplore,
Vttring foorth woordes, as helples of reliefe,
She is depriu'de, of all, both lesse and chiefe;
Aswell her Children, as her Husbande good,
VVith labouring seruantes that did earne their foode.
Ymmagin now, you heare a Mothers griefe:
Shee most of all, her sorrowes doth deplore,
Vttring foorth woordes, as helples of reliefe,
She is depriu'de, of all, both lesse and chiefe;
Aswell her Children, as her Husbande good,
VVith labouring seruantes that did earne their foode.
Ah my sweet Babes, what woulde not I haue done?
To yeelde you comfort, & maintaine you heere:
Early and late, no labour woulde I shun,
To feede your mouthes, though hunger pincht me neere;
All three at once, I woulde your bodies cheere.
Twaine in my lappe, shoulde sucke their tender Mother,
And with my foot, I woulde haue rockt the other.
To yeelde you comfort, & maintaine you heere:
Early and late, no labour woulde I shun,
To feede your mouthes, though hunger pincht me neere;
All three at once, I woulde your bodies cheere.
Twaine in my lappe, shoulde sucke their tender Mother,
And with my foot, I woulde haue rockt the other.
Me thinkes I see them still, and heare their cryes
Chiefly a nights when I on bed am layde,
Which make fresh teares goe from my watry eyes,
When I awake and finde I am deceiued;
Sweet pretie Babes, Christ hath your souls receiued;
Faire Babes to mee, you nere shall come againe,
But where you are, I trust aye to remaine.
Chiefly a nights when I on bed am layde,
Which make fresh teares goe from my watry eyes,
When I awake and finde I am deceiued;
Sweet pretie Babes, Christ hath your souls receiued;
Faire Babes to mee, you nere shall come againe,
But where you are, I trust aye to remaine.
Your louing father tooke a great delight,
Often in Armes to haue those children small,
And now he hath them euer in his sight,
Not one or two, the heauens possesse them all,
Father and Babes obayde when Christ did call.
They all are gone, I onely left with breath,
To byde more sorrowes in this wretched earth.
Often in Armes to haue those children small,
And now he hath them euer in his sight,
Not one or two, the heauens possesse them all,
Father and Babes obayde when Christ did call.
They all are gone, I onely left with breath,
To byde more sorrowes in this wretched earth.
Poore and in want yong widddow left am I,
Kindles and friendlesse, lacking meanes to liue,
Had but my seruants stayde their worke to plye
Their labour, would some comfort to me giue,
My hopes are like to water powrde in syue.
Onely I trust God will increase my health,
That I may worke and hate dishonest wealth.
Kindles and friendlesse, lacking meanes to liue,
Had but my seruants stayde their worke to plye
Their labour, would some comfort to me giue,
My hopes are like to water powrde in syue.
Onely I trust God will increase my health,
That I may worke and hate dishonest wealth.
Many more sorrowes might I here repeate,
Of grieued Mothers for their children deare,
But times are precious and worke too great
For my hoarse voice to shew and vtter here,
Onely I pray you listen and giue eare
To Londons sorrowes, which so many are,
My clacking tongue cannot them halfe declare.
Of grieued Mothers for their children deare,
But times are precious and worke too great
For my hoarse voice to shew and vtter here,
Onely I pray you listen and giue eare
To Londons sorrowes, which so many are,
My clacking tongue cannot them halfe declare.
And as with paine I did endure to tell
Your too too heauie and vnwelcom'd woes,
Wherein poore London labour'd to do well,
But wanting giftes, the best she can she showes
The willing minde, that all she hath bestowes,
Must needes be reconed for a friendly part,
Deseruing thankes, with as cheerefull a heart,
Your too too heauie and vnwelcom'd woes,
Wherein poore London labour'd to do well,
But wanting giftes, the best she can she showes
The willing minde, that all she hath bestowes,
Must needes be reconed for a friendly part,
Deseruing thankes, with as cheerefull a heart,
Excuse me then, and heare me too, a while,
For many sorrowes compasse me throughout:
Neuer since Brvte set footing in this Isle,
Nor nere since it was walled round about:
More blessed newes, nor happy spring cold sprout;
Then did to London, in this present yeere,
When Englands Cesar came this Citie neere.
For many sorrowes compasse me throughout:
Neuer since Brvte set footing in this Isle,
Nor nere since it was walled round about:
More blessed newes, nor happy spring cold sprout;
Then did to London, in this present yeere,
When Englands Cesar came this Citie neere.
All went aflaunt, happy that Marchant was
Which had rich wares to please his Chapmans eyes
The finest shagges, wrought stuffes, and purest glasse,
Rare cloth of gold, and silkes of euery dye:
Who for his money could know where to buy,
Both went and sent to fetch in wares good store,
Not doubting sale for that and three times more.
Which had rich wares to please his Chapmans eyes
The finest shagges, wrought stuffes, and purest glasse,
Rare cloth of gold, and silkes of euery dye:
Who for his money could know where to buy,
Both went and sent to fetch in wares good store,
Not doubting sale for that and three times more.
And as they thought a while it did continue,
Doings waxt quicke, and wares a pace did sell,
Great men of honours with their retinue,
Approch't my Citie minding here to dwell,
Houses and Chambers were let deare and well,
There was no corner in me did remaine,
But the true Owner might imploy to gaine,
Doings waxt quicke, and wares a pace did sell,
Great men of honours with their retinue,
Approch't my Citie minding here to dwell,
Houses and Chambers were let deare and well,
There was no corner in me did remaine,
But the true Owner might imploy to gaine,
With Icarvs, I soring then aloft,
Bathing my limbes in heat of highest sonne,
Till waxen wings with melting heate were soft,
And had no power me from the waues to shunne,
Downe must I fall, my glorie quite vndone,
He sits aboue that looketh downe below,
Commanding powers his iustice here to show.
Bathing my limbes in heat of highest sonne,
Till waxen wings with melting heate were soft,
And had no power me from the waues to shunne,
Downe must I fall, my glorie quite vndone,
He sits aboue that looketh downe below,
Commanding powers his iustice here to show.
And with King Davids chance doth me correct,
Spreading his Plague, where pleaseth him to strike;
Because in health his lawes I did reiect,
Trusting in menes, in man, in horse, and pike:
Boasting of riches, beautie and such like.
Neuer redeeming of swift passing times,
But still committing new and vgly crimes.
Spreading his Plague, where pleaseth him to strike;
Because in health his lawes I did reiect,
Trusting in menes, in man, in horse, and pike:
Boasting of riches, beautie and such like.
Neuer redeeming of swift passing times,
But still committing new and vgly crimes.
And to the ende, none dwelling in my Cittie
Should thinke themselues more safer then the rest,
Iudging their slights and not Gods lasting pittie,
To be the cause why they with health are blest;
Gods iudgement vpon all degrees are prest,
From poorest begger, to the wealthiest Squire,
From yongest infant, to the oldest Syre.
Should thinke themselues more safer then the rest,
Iudging their slights and not Gods lasting pittie,
To be the cause why they with health are blest;
Gods iudgement vpon all degrees are prest,
From poorest begger, to the wealthiest Squire,
From yongest infant, to the oldest Syre.
For if the aged people hee should spare,
They would attribute to themselues too much,
And say their bloudes are drye, their bones so bare,
The Pestilence their bodies cannot touch.
If middle age should scape, their wits are such,
That through their dyet, or by letting blood,
They wonne the victorie, and the Plague with stood.
They would attribute to themselues too much,
And say their bloudes are drye, their bones so bare,
The Pestilence their bodies cannot touch.
If middle age should scape, their wits are such,
That through their dyet, or by letting blood,
They wonne the victorie, and the Plague with stood.
The frolicke youths would iudge the strengths the meane,
Boasting of ioyntes, armes, legges and sinewes strong,
The little infant being weake and leane,
Wants substance for the Plague to worke vpon.
These are excuses, but effects haue none;
Gods Messenger (the Plague) doth feare no States,
But strikes both lowest and the highest Mates.
Boasting of ioyntes, armes, legges and sinewes strong,
The little infant being weake and leane,
Wants substance for the Plague to worke vpon.
These are excuses, but effects haue none;
Gods Messenger (the Plague) doth feare no States,
But strikes both lowest and the highest Mates.
Now for the rich which haue of golde such store,
Feeding their bodyes with dilicious fare,
Keeping great fires, stirre not out of doore,
Vsing perfumes, shunning infected ayre;
Shall they escape? No, the Plague will them not spare:
Because they shall not thinke their heaped treasure,
Can keepe them longer then it is Gods pleasure.
Feeding their bodyes with dilicious fare,
Keeping great fires, stirre not out of doore,
Vsing perfumes, shunning infected ayre;
Shall they escape? No, the Plague will them not spare:
Because they shall not thinke their heaped treasure,
Can keepe them longer then it is Gods pleasure.
If rich men dye, and poorer people stay,
They will exclame with hate and deadly ire,
Saying with surfeets they cousume the day,
Wallowing in ease like dirtie Swyne in myre,
Iudging their scarcitie and their thinne atyre
The onely Phisicke, poysons to with stand,
But they like others haue giuen death their hand.
They will exclame with hate and deadly ire,
Saying with surfeets they cousume the day,
Wallowing in ease like dirtie Swyne in myre,
Iudging their scarcitie and their thinne atyre
The onely Phisicke, poysons to with stand,
But they like others haue giuen death their hand.
If any then should scape deathes heauie sight,
And claime a pardon for a longer day;
The zealous Preacher and the godly wight,
Which for themselues, and for their hearers pray,
Might haue some fauour in this world to stay:
But God saith no, they shall yeeld to their kinde,
Lest they prooue haughtie which remaine behinde.
And claime a pardon for a longer day;
The zealous Preacher and the godly wight,
Which for themselues, and for their hearers pray,
Might haue some fauour in this world to stay:
But God saith no, they shall yeeld to their kinde,
Lest they prooue haughtie which remaine behinde.
There are a people that doe leawdly liue,
Swaggering and swearing, prone to euery sinne,
Shall those men scape? No, they account shall giue
Of all the vices they haue wallowed in.
Such wretched Caytiffes, made the Lord beginne,
To strike poore London with thy heauie rod,
For pleasing Sathan and offending God.
Swaggering and swearing, prone to euery sinne,
Shall those men scape? No, they account shall giue
Of all the vices they haue wallowed in.
Such wretched Caytiffes, made the Lord beginne,
To strike poore London with thy heauie rod,
For pleasing Sathan and offending God.
What should I say my sorrowes are so many,
One for a thousand I cannot repeate,
Within my liberties scarce any,
Which haue not felt Gods wrath and mightie threate,
Either by death, or sicknesse fell and great,
If Parents scap'de, the children had their part,
If both remaine, their seruants felt some smart.
One for a thousand I cannot repeate,
Within my liberties scarce any,
Which haue not felt Gods wrath and mightie threate,
Either by death, or sicknesse fell and great,
If Parents scap'de, the children had their part,
If both remaine, their seruants felt some smart.
The sicke bequeather of his wealth by Will,
Not onely dead, but his executors too,
And eke the Scriuener that did make the Bill,
All in one fort-night haue payde death their due,
The like vnto the Landlord doth ensue,
Both wealthy father, and succeeding heire,
With their poore tenants ended haue their care.
Not onely dead, but his executors too,
And eke the Scriuener that did make the Bill,
All in one fort-night haue payde death their due,
The like vnto the Landlord doth ensue,
Both wealthy father, and succeeding heire,
With their poore tenants ended haue their care.
The ioyfull Brydegroome married as to day,
Sicke, weake, and feeble before table layde,
And the next morrow dead and wrap't in clay,
Leauing his Bride, a widdow, wife and mayde.
Which sudden change doth make her so dismayde,
That griefes and sorrowes doth perplexe her heart,
Within three dayes she takes her husbands part.
Sicke, weake, and feeble before table layde,
And the next morrow dead and wrap't in clay,
Leauing his Bride, a widdow, wife and mayde.
Which sudden change doth make her so dismayde,
That griefes and sorrowes doth perplexe her heart,
Within three dayes she takes her husbands part.
Much might I speake of other sad laments,
And fill your eares with new and seuerall woes,
Spending a weeke, repeating discontents,
Which needlesse is, where all both sees and knowes,
How many thousands death and graues inclose:
Making me (London) which long time hath slowrish't
Scorned of those which I both fed and nourish't.
And fill your eares with new and seuerall woes,
Spending a weeke, repeating discontents,
Which needlesse is, where all both sees and knowes,
How many thousands death and graues inclose:
Making me (London) which long time hath slowrish't
Scorned of those which I both fed and nourish't.
And those that haue my glory most set forth,
Boasting that I for beautie did excell;
Now to approch vnto me are so loath,
As if my presence were a swallowing hell:
Within their houses they refuse to dwell,
And to the Countrey flye like swarmes of Bees,
Where wealth and credite many of them leese.
Boasting that I for beautie did excell;
Now to approch vnto me are so loath,
As if my presence were a swallowing hell:
Within their houses they refuse to dwell,
And to the Countrey flye like swarmes of Bees,
Where wealth and credite many of them leese.
But most of all my sorrowing heart doth grieue,
For such as worke and take exceeding care,
And by their labour knowe not how to liue,
Going poore soules in garments thinne and bare,
The bellie hungry, of flesh leane and spare.
Pawning and selling clothes, and what they haue,
To feed their children which for foode doe craue.
For such as worke and take exceeding care,
And by their labour knowe not how to liue,
Going poore soules in garments thinne and bare,
The bellie hungry, of flesh leane and spare.
Pawning and selling clothes, and what they haue,
To feed their children which for foode doe craue.
And when poore hearts their hunger once is stayed,
The day insuing brings the like distresse:
The painefull Parents working all their trade
For new supply, fell famine to suppresse,
But all in vaine their woes are nere the lesse.
Their worke being made, abroade poore soules they trott,
From Morne to Noone, from Noone to Night, God wott.
The day insuing brings the like distresse:
The painefull Parents working all their trade
For new supply, fell famine to suppresse,
But all in vaine their woes are nere the lesse.
Their worke being made, abroade poore soules they trott,
From Morne to Noone, from Noone to Night, God wott.
Offering their wares, and what they haue to sell,
Vnto such Trades-men as haue small pittie,
But they like Nabals, will not with them mell,
Vnlesse for halfe the worth they may it buy:
The rich man laughs, the poore in heart doth cry,
Shedding foorth teares in sorrow to his wife,
This world doth make me wearie of my life.
Vnto such Trades-men as haue small pittie,
But they like Nabals, will not with them mell,
Vnlesse for halfe the worth they may it buy:
The rich man laughs, the poore in heart doth cry,
Shedding foorth teares in sorrow to his wife,
This world doth make me wearie of my life.
The Wife doth weepe, the needy seruantes play,
The Children cry for foode where none is bought:
The Father saith, I cannot sell to day,
One iot of worke, that all of vs haue wrought;
In euery shoppe, I haue for money sought.
And can take none, your hunger to sustaine,
Teares part from him, the Children cry amaine.
The Children cry for foode where none is bought:
The Father saith, I cannot sell to day,
One iot of worke, that all of vs haue wrought;
In euery shoppe, I haue for money sought.
And can take none, your hunger to sustaine,
Teares part from him, the Children cry amaine.
VVhat shall we doe? a counsell straight they take,
Meate must be had, our people must not starue,
Wife, take such thinges, & goe without A loate,
In Hovvndes ditch, pawne them, our great neede to serue,
They will make sure, if that a day we swarue;
All will be lost, our garments are their owne,
Though for a pound we giue a shilling lone.
Meate must be had, our people must not starue,
Wife, take such thinges, & goe without A loate,
In Hovvndes ditch, pawne them, our great neede to serue,
They will make sure, if that a day we swarue;
All will be lost, our garments are their owne,
Though for a pound we giue a shilling lone.
Besides the Bill a powling groat will cost,
And euery Moneth our pawne must be renew'd,
So was my Lease to griping vsurie lost,
The first beginner of my sorrowes brew'd,
And euer since want vpon want insew'd.
My bedding forfeite for a thing of nought,
My brasse and Pewter, want of conscience bought.
And euery Moneth our pawne must be renew'd,
So was my Lease to griping vsurie lost,
The first beginner of my sorrowes brew'd,
And euer since want vpon want insew'd.
My bedding forfeite for a thing of nought,
My brasse and Pewter, want of conscience bought.
If now our clothes which clad our naked skinne,
Should thus be lost, as was our other good,
Alas, (poore Wife) what case are we then in,
Such shamefast Beggers neuer asked food.
If honest labour could this griefe withstood,
We would haue reckoned day and night as one,
To worke for meate, rather then make such mone.
Should thus be lost, as was our other good,
Alas, (poore Wife) what case are we then in,
Such shamefast Beggers neuer asked food.
If honest labour could this griefe withstood,
We would haue reckoned day and night as one,
To worke for meate, rather then make such mone.
O you of London, now heare London speake,
Especially you Magistrates of might,
And wealthy Citizens, whose store is great,
I gently wooe you to haue good fore-sight,
And cast your eyes vpon the needy wight,
Though feare of sicknesse driue you hence as men,
Yet leaue your purse, and feeling heart with them.
Especially you Magistrates of might,
And wealthy Citizens, whose store is great,
I gently wooe you to haue good fore-sight,
And cast your eyes vpon the needy wight,
Though feare of sicknesse driue you hence as men,
Yet leaue your purse, and feeling heart with them.
Remember all, your riches are but lent,
Though in this world, you beare such power and sway:
Remember too, how soone your yeares are spent,
Remember eke, your bodies are but clay,
Remember death, that rangeth at this day.
Remember when, poore Lazers woes did end,
The full fed glutton, to hell, did discend.
Though in this world, you beare such power and sway:
Remember too, how soone your yeares are spent,
Remember eke, your bodies are but clay,
Remember death, that rangeth at this day.
Remember when, poore Lazers woes did end,
The full fed glutton, to hell, did discend.
Remember rulers, of each publycke charge,
The seuerall branches, of your priuate oath:
Remember them, that vse a conscience large,
And on themselues, the needyes stocke bestow'th,
He robbes his God, and his poore neighbours both.
He that graunts blessings, to the poore that lends,
Giues treble cursings, to those it miss-spends.
The seuerall branches, of your priuate oath:
Remember them, that vse a conscience large,
And on themselues, the needyes stocke bestow'th,
He robbes his God, and his poore neighbours both.
He that graunts blessings, to the poore that lends,
Giues treble cursings, to those it miss-spends.
Remember likewise, God hath plac't you heere,
To be as nursing, fathers to the poore,
Let then your kindnes, now to them appeare,
Giue much and be, no niggards of your store:
God in his wisedome, gaue it you therefore.
Put foorth your tallents, and gaine ten for fiue,
so shall you in, the heauenly Cittie thriue.
To be as nursing, fathers to the poore,
Let then your kindnes, now to them appeare,
Giue much and be, no niggards of your store:
God in his wisedome, gaue it you therefore.
Put foorth your tallents, and gaine ten for fiue,
so shall you in, the heauenly Cittie thriue.
One other boone, doth mournefull London craue,
Of you on whom, her weale and woes depende
When in the senate, house with counsell graue,
You sit debating, causes how to end.
Make some decree, poore working trades to mend,
At least set downe, some order for their good,
That each man may, with labour earne his foode.
Of you on whom, her weale and woes depende
When in the senate, house with counsell graue,
You sit debating, causes how to end.
Make some decree, poore working trades to mend,
At least set downe, some order for their good,
That each man may, with labour earne his foode.
Restraine the number, of deuouring drones,
That sucks the hunny, from the laboring bees,
Catching by peece-meale, in their bribes and lones,
Mens whole estates, which are of poore degrees:
And brings them quickly, on their naked knees,
Fower groates a month for twenty shillings lent,
Ys like windes tempest, till the house be rent.
That sucks the hunny, from the laboring bees,
Catching by peece-meale, in their bribes and lones,
Mens whole estates, which are of poore degrees:
And brings them quickly, on their naked knees,
Fower groates a month for twenty shillings lent,
Ys like windes tempest, till the house be rent.
The number, numberlesse of houses vaine,
Which beere and ale, forsooth make shewe to sell:
Vnder which couller, doth such vyces rayne
My cheeke doth glowe, my toongue refraines to tell,
Offending God, and pleasing Sathan well,
Like wicked Sodome, doth my Subburbs lye,
A mighty blemish, to faire Londons eye.
Which beere and ale, forsooth make shewe to sell:
Vnder which couller, doth such vyces rayne
My cheeke doth glowe, my toongue refraines to tell,
Offending God, and pleasing Sathan well,
Like wicked Sodome, doth my Subburbs lye,
A mighty blemish, to faire Londons eye.
Reforme these things, you heads of London Citie,
Punnish lewd vice, let vertue spring and grow:
Then Gods iust wrath, now hot will turne to pittie,
And for his children, you againe doe know:
Your former health, on you he will bestow,
The Plague and Pestilence, wherewith he visites still,
To end or send, are in his holy will.
Punnish lewd vice, let vertue spring and grow:
Then Gods iust wrath, now hot will turne to pittie,
And for his children, you againe doe know:
Your former health, on you he will bestow,
The Plague and Pestilence, wherewith he visites still,
To end or send, are in his holy will.
You see the runner, in his race is tript,
Well when he went, dead ere his iourneyes done:
You see how soddaine, beauties blase is nipt,
Which sought all meanes, deaths danger for to shunne,
You heare what successe, followe them that runne:
Most true report, doth tell vs where and how,
The Countreys plauge, exceedes the Citties now.
Well when he went, dead ere his iourneyes done:
You see how soddaine, beauties blase is nipt,
Which sought all meanes, deaths danger for to shunne,
You heare what successe, followe them that runne:
Most true report, doth tell vs where and how,
The Countreys plauge, exceedes the Citties now.
Sith then it resteth, in Gods mighty power,
Who when he please, can bid his Angell stay:
Or if he will, destroy you in an hower
A thousand yeares, being with him as one day,
Why should you not, to him for mercy pray,
Desiring pardon, with a contryte heart,
And from your former, wickednes depart.
Who when he please, can bid his Angell stay:
Or if he will, destroy you in an hower
A thousand yeares, being with him as one day,
Why should you not, to him for mercy pray,
Desiring pardon, with a contryte heart,
And from your former, wickednes depart.
Yf this you will, incontinently doe,
The Lorde in pittie, will his iudgments cease,
And many blessings will he powre on you:
Health and long life, Honour & happie peace,
Your Foes shal quaile, your friendes shall still increase,
Your VViues shall flourish like a fruitfull Vine,
Your Children prosper, and your griefes decline,
The Lorde in pittie, will his iudgments cease,
And many blessings will he powre on you:
Health and long life, Honour & happie peace,
Your Foes shal quaile, your friendes shall still increase,
Your VViues shall flourish like a fruitfull Vine,
Your Children prosper, and your griefes decline,
Your Termes shall holde, your men of Worth shall stay,
Your Marchants trafficke, and great riches gaine,
Your Trades-mens sorrows shall bee done away,
True loyall seruants shall with them remaine:
Your Artisants shall neuer more complaine,
Their honest labour so shall thriue and speede,
That they shall giue to others that haue neede.
Your Marchants trafficke, and great riches gaine,
Your Trades-mens sorrows shall bee done away,
True loyall seruants shall with them remaine:
Your Artisants shall neuer more complaine,
Their honest labour so shall thriue and speede,
That they shall giue to others that haue neede.
And I that long haue beene a loathed Dame,
shall frolicke then with myrth and inward glee,
Renowned Lady, now must be my name,
O famous London, who is like to thee;
Thy God is serude by men of each degree,
Thy Churches filde, thy Preachers burne with zeale,
Thy glory shines, O blessed Common-weale.
shall frolicke then with myrth and inward glee,
Renowned Lady, now must be my name,
O famous London, who is like to thee;
Thy God is serude by men of each degree,
Thy Churches filde, thy Preachers burne with zeale,
Thy glory shines, O blessed Common-weale.
My crowned Cesar and his Peerlesse Queene,
Comes now tryumphing with their princely sonne,
Deckt with rich robes the like was neuer seene,
Nor neuer none more welcome to London,
Me thinkes I see the people how they runne,
To get them roome this happy sight to see,
That this may come say all Amen, with mee.
Comes now tryumphing with their princely sonne,
Deckt with rich robes the like was neuer seene,
Nor neuer none more welcome to London,
Me thinkes I see the people how they runne,
To get them roome this happy sight to see,
That this may come say all Amen, with mee.
FINIS.
| Londons Mourning garment, or Funerall Teares: worne and shed for the death of her wealthy Cittizens, and other her inhabitants. To which is added, a zealous and feruent Prayer, with a true relation how many haue dyed of all diseases, in euery particuler parish within London, the Liberties, and out parishes neere adioyning from the 14 of Iuly 1603 to the 17 of Nouember following [by William Muggins] | |