The nine Worthies of London explaining the honourable exercise of Arms, the virtues of the valiant, and the memorable attempts of magnanimous minds. PLEASANT FOR GENTLEmen, not unseemly for Magistrates, and most profitable for Prentices.  
Compiled by Richard johnson.  
Imprinted at London by Thomas Orwin for Humphrey Lownes, and are to be sold at his shop at the west door of Paul's. 1592.   

To the right Honourable sir William Webbe Knight, Lord Mayor of the famous City of London, Richard johnson, wisheth health, with increase of honour.  
BEING not altogether (right honourable) unacquainted with the fame of this well governed city, the head of our English flourishing common wealth: I thought nothing (considering it somewhat touched my duty) could be more acceptable to your Honour, than such principles as first grounded the same as well by domestical policy of peace, as foreign excellence in resolution of war. This caused me to collect from our London gardens, such especial flowers, that savoured as well in the wrath of Winter, as in the pride of Summer, keeping one equivolence at all kind of seasons. Flowers of chivalry (right honourable I mean) some that have sucked honey from the Bee, sweetness from war, and were possessed in that high place of prudence, whereof your Lordship now partaketh. Other some that have been more inferior members, and yet have given especial aid to the head, been buckler to the best, and thereby reached to the aspiring top of arms: If your Lordship shall but like of it, proceeding from the barren brain of a poor apprentice, that dare not promise moulhils, much less mountains, I shall think this by-exercise, which I undertook to expel idleness, a work of worth, whatsoever the gentle cauld kind, that are ungently enkindled, shall with ostentation inveigh. These (right Honourable) the nine Worthies of London, now unable to defend themselves, seek their protection under your gracious favour: and the Author pricked on by Fame, to be patronagde for his willing labour, whereof not misdoubting, I humbly commit your Honour to the defence of heaven, and the guider of all just equality:  
Your L in all humble duty to be commanded. Richard johnson.   

To the Gentlemen Readers, as well Prentices as others.  
ALL is not gold (Gentlemen) that glisters, nor all dross that makes but a dark show: so should copper some time be currant, & pearls of no price. Aesop for all his crutchback, had a quick wit. Cleanthes, though in the night he carried the watertankard, yet in the day would dispute with Philosophers. A mean man may look upon a king, and a wren build her nest by an eagle In the games of Olympus, any man might try his strength: and when Apelles lived others were not forbid to paint: So gentlemen, though now a days many great Poet's flourish (from whose eloquent works you take both pleasure and profit) yet I trust inferiors (whose pens dare not compare with Apollo's) shall not be contemned or put to silence. Every weed hath his virtue, & studious travail (though without skill) may manifest good will. Vouchsafe then entertainment to this new come guest, his simple truth shows he is without deceit, and his plain speech proves, he flatters not. He can not beast of Art, nor claim the privilege of scholastical cunning: what he saith is not curious, being without any great praemeditation, or practise, more than his necessary affairs would permit. If his unpollished discourses may merit the least motion of your good liking, let the envious fret, and the captious malice melt themselves, neither the objection of Mechanical, by such as are themselves diabolical, whose vicious baseness in a self conceit presuming above the best, is in deed but the dregs and refuse of the worst, nor the reproach of proverbial scoffs as (Ne suitor ultra crepidam) shall discourage me from proceeding to invent how further to content you. And so trusting to my fortune, and ending in my hap, neither despairing of your censures, nor fearing what the malevolent can inflict.  
Yours to command as he may. Richard johnson.   

A Catalogue or brief Table, declaring the names of these worthy men, and when they lived.  

First. SIr William Walworth Fishmonger, in the time of Richard the second.  
Second. Sir Henry Pitchard Vintner, in the time of Edward the third.  
Third. Sir William Sevenoake Grocer, in the time of Henry the fift.  
Fourth. Sir Thomas White Marchant-tailer, in the time of Queen Marie.  
Fift. Sir john Bonham Mercer, in the time of Edward the first.  
Sixt. Sir Christopher Croker Vintner, in the time of Edward the third.  
Seventh. Sir john Haukwood Marchant-tailer, in the time of Edward the third.  
Eight. Sir Hugh Caverley Silk-weaver, in the time of Edward the third.  
Ninth. Sir Henry Maleveret Grocer, in the time of Henry the fourth.    

To the Gentlemen Readers.  
GEntlemen, being encouraged through your gentle acceptance of my Cynthia, I have once more adventured on your Courtesies: hoping to find you (as I have done heretofore) friendly. Being determined to write of something, & yet not resolved of any thing, I considered with myself, if one should write of Love (they will say) why, every one writes of Love: if of Virtue, why, who regards Virtue? To be short, I could think of nothing, but either it was common, or not at all in request, At length I bethought myself of a Subject, both new (as having never been written upon before) and pleasing (as I thought) because Man's Nature (commonly) loves to hear that praised, with whose pressence, he is most pleased.  
Erasmus (the glory of netherlands, and the refiner of the Latin Tongue) wrote a whole Book, in th● praise of Folly. Then if so excellent a Scholar, writ in praise of Vanity, why may not I write in praise of that which is profitable? There are no two Countries where Gold is esteemed, less than in India, and more than in England: the reason is, because the Indians are barbarous and our Nation civil.  
I have given Pecunia the title of a Woman Both for the termination of the Word, and because (as Women are) she is loved of men. The bravest Voyages in the World, have been made for Gold: for it, men have ventured (by Sea) to the furthest part of the Earth: In the Pursuit whereof, England's Nestor and Neptune (Haukins and Drake) lost their lives. Upon the Deaths of the which two, of the first I writ this: 
The Waters were his Winding sheet, the Sea was made his Tomb;  
Yet for his fame the Ocean Sea, was not sufficient room.  Of the latter this: 
England his heart; his Corpse the Waters have:  
And that which raised his fame, because his grave.   
The Praetorians (after the death of Pertinax) in the election of a new Emperor, more esteemed the money of julianus, then either the virtue of Severus, or the Valour of Pessennius. Then of what great estimation and account, this Lady Pecunia, both hath been in the World, and is at this present, I leave to your judgement. But what speak I so much of her praise in my Epistle, that have commended her so at large, in my Book? To the reading whereof, (Gentlemen) I refer you.   

The nine worthies of London, explaying the honourable exercise of Arms, the virtues of the valiant, and the innumerable attempts of Magnanimous minds.  
WHat time Fame began to feather herself to fly, and was winged with the lasting memory of martial men, the Orators ceased persuasive Orations, the Poets neglected the pleasures of their Poems, and Pallas herself would have nothing painted upon her shield but Mottoes of Mars, and short emblems in honour of noble achievements. Then the ashes of ancient victors without scruple or disdain had sepulture in rich and golden monuments: and they that reached the height of honour by worthy deeds, had their former baseness, shadowed by deserts. Fame then fearing that her honour would faint, and her armour rust (for though she favoured all professions, yet she chief dignified arms) on a sudden, mounted into the air, and never stayed the swiftness of her flying course, until she pitched her feet upon Parnassus' forked top, whose springing Laurels gave shade, & shelter to her weariness. This was the fruitful place where she plotted her flowery garlands, to crown the temples of virtuous followers, and wreaths of renown to illustrate undaunted courages. Here likewise remained her chief secretaries the ix. Muses, as in a seat of most pleasure best befitting their divine perfections, whose necessary aids she always craved, when occasion ministered any thing worthy record: and though the wholesome freshness of the air, the greenness of the valleys, the comfortable odours of sundry sorts of flowers, the pride and beauty of the trees, the harmonious lays of Nightingales & other birds, the variable delights of artificial bowers, and the musical murmurs of Crystal running fountains, might well have enchanted the roughest Cyaink, or crabbedst Malcontent to cheer up his spirits, and banish melancholy passions, yet this Goddess pretending business of importance, had such a care to effect it, as that she would not be overcome with pleasure, nor yield to ease, (though in reason her laborious travel did require rest) but painfully passing up and down, was not moved with the one, nor mastered with the other. At last as her busy eye pried every way, she espied a path of Violets, whose tops were pressed down with the steps of such as had lately passed that way: by this she conjectured the Nymphs were not far off, and therefore following the tract their feet had made upon the flowers, she was quickly brought to the head of Helicon, where, in an arbour of Eglantine, and damask Rose trees, one twisted so cunningly within another, as hard it was to judge whether nature or art had bestowed most to the beautifying of that bower. She found the Muses every one seriously applying their several exercises, whom when they saw (having saluted her with a dutiful reverence) stood attentive (being well assured her coming was not without cause) what charge she would give, or what she would command to be registered. To whom Fame, to the intent they might not long be in suspense about her sudden approach, as well for that her business was impatient of delay, as to resolve their earnest expectation, spoke in this manner.  
You need not muse (gracious nurses of learning) at my presence in this place, because I use not oftentimes to visit you, nor trouble your minds with ambiguous imaginations concerning my purpose, since I seldom crave your furtherance but for memorable accidents: notwithstanding, for the variety of matter requires not always one form, and still with process of time as men's manners change, our method altars, you shall perceive I am not now to begin: but to revive what ignorance in darkness seems to shadow, & hateful oblivion hath almost rubbed out of the book of honour. It is not of Kings and mighty Potentates, but such whose virtues made them great, and whose renown sprung not of the nobleness of their birth, but of the notable towardness of their well qualified minds, advanced not with lofty titles, but praised for the trial of their heroical truths: of these must you indite, who though their states were but mean, yet doth their worthy prowess match superiors, and therefore have I named them Worthies. Nine were they in number, their Country England, the City they lived in famous London, famous in deed for such men, and yet forgetful to celebrate the remembrance of their names, and negligent, (I may say) in performing the like attempts, having for imitation such goodly precedents as these to supply them that want, with wisdom, and with better instruction. I am determined to discourse again what I have often bruited, thereby to stir up sluggards, and to give secure worldlings to understand (who extends no further then for wealth, and whose hearts suppose a heap of coin the greatest happiness) that the censure of honour ought to increase, when as by substance they arise to authority, and none so abject but may be made a subject of glory and magnanimity, if so thereunto they will bend their endeavours.  
For performance hereof, I know my theme so large, and copious, as all your wits might in general be employed to dilate and express the same, yet only Clio shall be sufficient, whom alone I make choice off, the rather because it chief concerns her, and so beckoning towards her with her head, made an end of her speech.  
She had no sooner said, but all the rest as satisfied in that they desired to know, presently cast down their looks, that were before steadfastly fixed upon the brows of Fame, and began to turn to their labours, which all this while by reason of her talk they had intermitted, only Clio clasping up her book of famous histories, and taking her golden pen in hand, rose from the seat where she sat, and leaving her sisters with due reverence, was ready to follow Fame where so ever she would conduct her.  
At the door of the entrance into the Arbour, there stood a silver chariot drawn by the force of Pegasus, which Fame of purpose had provided, because Clio therein might the better keep wing with her. Into the which she was no sooner mounted, but straightway as swift as the burning darts of jupiter, they made their passage through the subtle air, until they soared over the hollow vault, through which the way leadeth down to the rule of under earth: there Clio pulled her rain, and with a headlong fall (according to her guide's direction) never stayed until the stéely house of Pegasus did beat against the gates of Tartara, where being received in, they left the crooked thorny way smoking with sulphur, and never ceasing contagious vapours, and kept directly on the other side, which delighted their eyes with so many glorious sights, that before they knew it, they were arrived under the Elesian shades: where when the Gods had remained a while, discoursing with her companion the several habitations, as that of lovers in sweet groves of musk she spied at last the place where Electrum grows, sweetened continually with burning balm boughs, with which brave soldiers, and warlike cavilliers cured their rank scatres. There did she shake her bright immortal wings, and with the melodious noise, and with the sweet breath was fanned from those Phoenix feathers she awaked nine comely knights, that arm in arm upon a green bank, strewed with Rose buds, had laid their conquering heads to rest in peace.  
This, quoth she is the farthest end of our journey, here must we take our stations for a while, and those whom thou seest elevating their bodies from the ground, from whose brows sparkle gleams of immortal glory, are the nine worthy Champions I told you of, whom, as by my power I have awaked: so will I cause to speak and declare their own fortunes, only be thou attentive, and set down with thy pen, what thou shalt hear them speak: and so coming, to the first, which was a tall aged man, his hair as white as snow, upon his back a scarlet rob, his temples bound about with balm, and in his hand a bright shining blade: she touched his lips with her finger, and straightway his tongue began to utter these words.  

Sir William Wallworth Fishmonger, sometime Mayor of London.  

WHat I shall speak, suppose it is not vain,  
Nor think Ambition tunes my sounding voice;  
It boots not clay to stand on glorious gain,  
another place bereaves us of that choice:  
For when the Pomp of earthly pleasures gone,  
Our ghosts lie buried underneath a stone.   

Nor when I lived carped I at Phoebus' light  
My deeds did pass without comparing pride,  
Who shone the least (me thought appeared more bright)  
I wished it secret what the world descried,  
Nor would now show (fair Goddess but for thee,)  
The charge beseems an other and not me.   

To overpass then how I was instauled  
To wear the purple rob of Magistrate,  
It shall suffice I sued not, but was called,  
Of Fortune's gifts let base minds relate:  
In such a time it was my chance to sway,  
When riches quailed, and Virtue won the day.   

In Richard's Reign the second of that name  
Of London's weal Lieutenant to his Grace,  
Wallworth was chose unworthy of the same  
Within his hand to bear the City's mace:  
To Fishmongers the honour did redound,  
Whose brotherhood was my preferments ground.   

These were not days of peace but broiling war,  
Dissension spread her venom through the land,  
And stirred the Prince and subject to a jar  
Hated love, Rigour duty did withstand:  
In such a tempest of unbridled force,  
As many lost their lives without remorse.   

For by a tax the King required to have,  
The men of Kent and Essex did rebel,  
Their first Decree concluded none to save  
But havoc all, a heavy tale to tell:  
And so when they were gatherde to a head,  
Towards London were these graceless Rebels led.   

What spoil they made in Countries as they came,  
How they did rob and tyrannize in pride,  
The widows cries were patterns of their shame,  
And sanguine streams of infant's blood beside:  
For like the sea when it hath caught a breach,  
So rushed these Traitors, past compassions reach.   

So desperate was their rage as they prevailde,  
And entered the City by the sword,  
The tower walls were mightily assailed,  
And prisoner there made headless at a word:  
Earls manner houses were by them destroyed,  
The Savoy and S. jones, by Smithfield spoiled.   

All men of law that fell into their hands  
They left them breathless weltering in their blood,  
Ancient records were turned to firebrands,  
Any had favour sooner than the good:  
So stout these cutthroats were in their degree,  
That Noblemen must serve them on their knee.   

In burning and in slaughter long they toiled,  
That made the King and all his train aghast,  
Such rancour had their stomachs overboyld  
They hoped to get the sovereignty at last:  
In deed his Majesty was young in years,  
Which brought distress to him and to his Peers.   

Yet with a loyal guard of bills and Bows  
Collected of our tallest men of trade,  
I did protect his person from his foes,  
Where there presumption trembled to invade:  
It yerked my soul to see my Prince abused,  
In whose defence no danger I refused.   

In these extremes it was no boot to fight,  
The rebels marched with so huge an host,  
The King craved Parley by a noble Knight  
Of stern Wat Tiler ruler of the roast:  
A country Boor, a goodly proper swain,  
To put his Country to such wretched pain.   

This Rustic scoffed at first the King's request  
Yet at the last he seemed to give consent,  
alleging he would come when he thought best:  
'tis well (quoth he) is all their courage spent:  
I'll make them on their bended knees entreat,  
Or cast their bodies in a bloody sweat,   

Begirt with steel, our gowns were laid apart,  
Age hindered not, though feeble were my joints.  
'Twould make a fearful coward take a heart  
When Prince oppressed a Country's cause appoints:  
Who would refuse, and death or grievous pain  
To follow him that is his Sovenaygne?   

The place appointed where to meet these mates  
(That like audacious peasants did prepare,  
As if their calling did concern high states,  
With brazen looks devoid of awful care)  
Was Smithfeeld, where his Majesty did stay,  
An hour ere these Rebels found the way.   

At last the leaders of that brutish rout  
jacke Straw, Wat Tiler, and a number more,  
Aproacht the place with such a yelling shout,  
As seldom had the like been heard before:  
The King spoke fair, and bade them lay down arms,  
And he would pardon all their former harms.   

But as fierce Lions are not tamed with words,  
Nor savage Monsters conquered but by force,  
So gentleness unshethes a Traitors sword,  
And fair persuasions makes the wicked worse:  
His clemency provoke, and not dismayed,  
Because of them, they thought the King afraid.   

And as a witness of their inward vice  
Their tongues began to taunt in saucy sort,  
Obedience blushed, and Honour lost her price,  
A modest shame forbids the fowl report:  
How Presumption made these Caitiffs swell,  
As if the Devils did bellowfoorth of Hell.   

Their loathsome talk enkindle, anger's fire  
And fretting passions made my sinews shake,  
'Twas death to me to see the Base aspire:  
Such wounds would men in deadly slumber wake.  
Yet I refrainde, my betters were in place,  
It were no manners Nobleses to disgrace.   

But when I saw the Rebel's pride increase,  
And none control and countercheck their rage,  
'Twere service good (thought I) to purchase peace,  
And malice of contentious brags assuage:  
With this conceit all fear had taken flight,  
And I alone priest to the traitor's sight.   

Their multitude could not amaze my mind,  
Their bloody weapons did not make me shrink,  
True valour hath his constancy assigned,  
The Eagle at the Sun will never wink:  
Amongst their troops incensed with mortal hate,  
I did arrest Wat Tiler on the pate.   

The stroke was given with so good a will,  
It made the Rebel couch unto the earth,  
His fellows that beheld ('tis strange) were still  
It marred the manor of their former mirth:  
I left him not, but ere I did departed,  
I stabbed my dagger to his damned heart.   

The rest perceiving of their captain slain,  
Soon terrified did cast their weapons down,  
And like to sheep began to fly amain,  
They durst not look on justice dreadful frown.  
The king pursued, and we were not the last,  
Till fury of the fight were overpast.   

Thus were the mangled parts of peace recured;  
The Princes falling state by right defended;  
From common weal all mischief quite abiurde,  
With love and duty virtue was attended.  
And for that deed that day before 'twas night,  
My king in guerdon dubbed me a knight.   

Nor ceased he so to honour that degree.  
A costly hat his highness likewise gave,  
That London's maintenance might ever be,  
A sword also he did ordain to have,  
That should be carried still before the Mayor,  
Whose worth deserved succession to that chair,   

This much in age when strength of youth was spent,  
Hath Walworth by unwonted valour gained,  
'Twas all he sought, his country to content.  
Success hath fortune for the just ordained,  
And when he died, this order he began,  
Lord majors are knights their office being done.   
WOrthily had this father of his Country the foremost place in this discourse, whose valorous attempts may be a light to all ensuing ages, to lead them in the darkness of all troublesome times, to the resurrection of such a constant affection as will not falter or refuse any peril to profit his Country and purchase honour. Such was his desert, as even then when good men despaired of their safety, and the very pillars of the common wealth tottered: his courage redeemed the one, and underpropped the other: Martialists and patrons of magnanimity, trembled at that which he beyond all expectation adventured. Let envy therefore retract the malice of her blistering tongue, which heretofore (and now not a little) striveth by her contentious and ripening nature to obscure the brightness of their praise, and scoff at their ingenious dispositions, whose education promiseth small: But yet when occasion hath required, have performed more than they whose brags have vapord to the clouds. I wish the like mind, and the like loyalty in all those that make the City the Nurse of their lives, and subject of their fortunes, that London may continue still that credit to be called the great chamber of her kings, and the key of her countries bliss. But to proceed, Fame having marked the gravity, eloquence, and oratorlike gesture of this good knight during the continuance of his talk, was so well pleased as she vowed to erect his stature, where in spite of all contrarious and malevolent blasts of virtues carpers, it should stand immovable: and Clio that had penned his speech, grieved she had not leisure (as she desired, and he deserved) to set down his actions in better and more ample manner: for already another of the knightly crew stood up ready to delate what Fame expected: therefore she was forced to let it somewhat rawly pass, hoping that the excellency of the matter, would excuse the rudensse of the rhyme.  
The next being a man whom nature had likewise beautified with the colour and badge of wisdom and authority, as one on whom a greater power than Fortunes feigned deity had bestowed, the fullness of worldly treasure, and heavens perfection, began accordingly to frame his tale.   

Sir Henry Pitchard Knight.  

THe potter tempers not the massy gold,  
A meaner substance serves his simple trade,  
His workmanship consists of slimy mould,  
Where any plain impression soon is made:  
His Pitchards have no outward glittering pomp,  
As other mettles of a finer stamp.   

Yet for your use as wholesome as the rest,  
Though their beginning be but homely found,  
And sometime they are taken for the best,  
If that be precious that is always sound.  
From gold corrupting poisons do infect,  
Where earthen cups are free from all suspect.   

So censure of the Pitchard you behold,  
Whose glory springs not of his lowly frame,  
Though he be clay he may compare with gold  
His properties near felt reproachful shame:  
For when I first drew breath upon the earth,  
My mind did beautify creations birth.   

I dare not sing of Mars his bloody scars,  
It is a style too high for my conceit,  
Yet in my youth I served in the wars,  
And followed him that made his foes entreat:  
Edward the third the Phoenix of his time,  
For life and prows spotted with no crime.   

From France returned, so well I thrived at home,  
As by permission of celestial grace,  
I rose by that men termed blind Fortune's doom  
To such a lofty dignity of place:  
As by election than it did appear,  
I was Lord Mayor of London for a year.   

I used not my promotion with disdain,  
Nor suffered heaps of coin to fret withrust,  
I knew the end of such a noble gain,  
And saw that riches were not given for lust:  
But for relief and comfort of the poor,  
Against the stranger not to shut my door.   

I could repeat perhaps some liberal deeds,  
But that I fear vaineglories bitter check,  
His plenty's want, his harvest is but weeds,  
That doth in words his proper goodness deck:  
It shall suffice he hath them in record,  
That keeps in store his steward's just reward.   

Yet for advancement of fair London's fame,  
I will omit one principal regard,  
That such as hear may imitate the same,  
When avarice by bounty shall be bard:  
Rich men should think of honour more than pelf,  
I lived as well for others as myself.   

When Edward triumphed for his victories,  
And held three crowns within his conquering hand,  
He brought rich Trophies from his enemies,  
That were erected in this happy land:  
We all rejoiced and gave our God the praise,  
That was the author of those fortunate days.   

And as from Dover with the prince his son,  
The King of Cypress, France, and Scots did pass,  
All captive prisoners to this mighty one,  
Five thousand men, and I the leader was,  
All well prepared, as to defend a fort,  
Went forth to welcome him in martial sort.   

The riches of our armour, and the cost▪  
Each one bestowed in honour of that day,  
Were here to be expressed but labour lost,  
Silk coats and chains of gold bore little sway.  
And thus we marched accepted of our King,  
To whom our coming seemed a gracious thing.   

But when the City pearde within our sights,  
I craved a boon submiss upon my knee,  
To have his Grace, those Kings, with Earls and knights,  
A day or two to banquet it with me:  
The king admired, yet thankfully replied,  
Unto thy house both I and these will ride.   

Glad was I that so I did prevail,  
My heart revived, my parts (me thought) were young,  
For cheer and sumptuous cost no coin did fail,  
And he that talked of sparing did me wrong:  
Thus at my proper charge I did retain  
Four kings, one prince, and all their royalltraine.   

Yet lo this pomp did vanish in an hour,  
There is no trusting to a broken staff,  
Man's careful life doth whither like a flower,  
The destinies do stroy what we do graff:  
For all his might, my gold wherewith I pleased,  
Death took us both and would not be appeased.   

Of all there now remains no more but this,  
What virtue got by toiling labours pain,  
To shrine our spotless souls in heavenly bliss,  
Till to our bodies they return again.  
What else we find is vain and worthless dross,  
And greatest getting but the greatest loss.   
AFter that Clio had writ what this famous knight had told, she no little wondered at his modest audacity. Therefore she said this to Fame, Renowned Goddess enemy to the fatal sisters, and only friend to the good deservers: it were beseeming thy excellency to proceed altogether with the honourable acts of these memorable men, and only touch their virtuous endeavours, whereunto the Goddess condescended: and seeing another lift up his head, as if he were desirous to speak: Fame heartened him on with smiling countenance to say as followeth.   

Sir William Sevenoake.  

MY harmless birth misfortune quite contemned,  
And from my pap did make my youth a pray,  
So scarcely bud, my branches were unstemd;  
My birth hour was deaths black and gloomy day:  
Had not the highest stretched forth his might  
The break of day had been the darkest night.   

Some Monster that did evie Nature's work  
(When I was borne in Kent) did cast me forth  
In desert wilds, where though no Beast did lurk  
To spoil that life, the Heavens made forwoorth:  
Under seven Oaks yet mischief fling me down,  
Where I was found and brougha unto a town.   

Behold an ebb that never thought to flow;  
Behold a fall unlikely to recover;  
Behold ashrub, a weed, that grew full low;  
Behold a wren that never thought to hover:  
Behold yet how the highest can command,  
And make a sand foundation firmly stand.   

For when my infant's time induste more years  
After some education in the school,  
And some discretion in myself appears  
With labour to be taught with manual tool:  
To learn to live, to London thus being found,  
Apprentice to a Groser I was bound.   

To please the honest care my master took,  
I did refuse no toil nor drudging pain,  
My hands no labour ever yet for sook  
Whereby I might increase my master's gain:  
Thus Sevenoake lived (for so they called my name,)  
Till Heaven did place me in a better frame.   

In time my prentice years were quite expired,  
And then Bellona in my homely breast,  
My Country's honour with her flames had fired,  
And for a Soldier made my fortune priest:  
Henry the fifis my King did war with France,  
Then I with him his right to readvance.   

There did courageous men with love compare  
And strive by arms to get their Prince renown,  
There silly I like thirsty soul did far  
To drink their fill, would venture for to drown:  
Then did the height of my inhaunst desire,  
Grant me a little leisure to aspire.   

The dolphin then of France a comely Knight,  
Disguised, came by chance into a place,  
Where I well wearied with the hear of fight,  
Had laid me down (for war had ceased his chase)  
And with reproachful words, as layzie swain,  
He did salute me ere I long had lain.   

I knowing that he was mine enemy  
A bragging Frenchman (for we termed them so,  
Ill brooked the proud disgrace he gave to me,  
And therefore lent the dolphin such a blow:  
As warmed his courage well to lay about,  
Till he was breathless (though he were so stout.)   

At last the noble Prince did ask my name,  
My birth, my calling, and my fortunes past,  
With admiration he did hear the same,  
And so a bag of crowns to me he cast:  
And when he went away he said to me,  
Seavenoake be proud the dolphin fought with thee.   

When English had obtained the victory,  
We crossed back the grudging seas again,  
Where all my friends supposed war to be  
For vice and folly, virtues only bane:  
But see the simple how they are deceived,  
To judge that honour, Honour hath bereaved.   

For when my Soldiers fame was laid aside,  
To be a Grocer once again I framed,  
And he which rules above my steps did guide,  
That through his wealth Sevenoake in time was famed  
To be Lord Mayor of London by degree,  
Where justice made me sway with equity.   

Grey hairs made period unto honours call,  
And frosty death had furrowed in my face,  
Cold Winter gashes, and to summers fall,  
And fainting nature left my mortal place:  
For with the date of flesh my life decayed,  
And Sevenoake died: (for every flower must fade.)   

By Testament in Kent I built a town,  
And briefly called it Sevenoake, from my name,  
A free school to sweet learning, to renown  
I placed for those that played at honour's game:  
Both land and living to that town I gave,  
Before I took possession of my grave.   

Thither I bore my flesh, but leave my fame,  
To be a precedent for London wights,  
And you that now behold fair Virtues maim,  
Think he is happy for his Country fights,  
For, for my guerdon to this pleasant field,  
My carcase did my dying spirit yield.   
BY that time this famous man had thus ennobled his name by telling his nature, the pitiful and lovely Muse had delated at large his eternal honour, having in no part been niggardly of his prodigal praise: but Fame dismissing him to his former rest, hard by a still silver stream that beat warbling Echoes into the vaulty banks, whereas deceased Sea-nymphs use to sport, pressing his manlike palm upon the ground, he bent his comely body to the earth: where not as possessed with heaviness, but with Paradice-like joy he safely and swéettly reposed his comely limbs: like as the wonted Martialists of former memory were accustomed to do, when returning from hot encountered broils, they unbuckled their steeled enclosures to enjoy the fresh and delightsome breath of peace. There they that wonted to be of Pan's musical Parliament, fair Foresters and carrolling shepherds, delighted, and almost enchanted with this Champion's story, thought to present him with some short recreation, therefore upon a bush of juniper brambles where Philomelie had set her speckled breast, they all at once did beat with silver wings: then from this sweet savouring thicket roused the tripping Dear, and after them the nimble footed Fawn, wrestling together, once overtaken with pleasing and delectable sport, rubbing their horned brows upon their sweet twined bowers, this did they do in favour of his birth, being committed to their governments before his mother's milk had made him blithe.  
This pastime put the famous Sevenoake in mind of his beginning, how Nature first had inniciated her work in misery, and ended it in miracles, not arguing herein her unconstant kind, but her provident foresight to withstand the mischief of all misfortunes: and whilst Fame with her admiring Muse was busied in posing the rest, this meritorious man did please himself with this Poem.  

WHere Fortune had her birth the Sun sat down,  
Yet gave no living glory to the child,  
She grew and gave the God a golden crown,  
It pleased him not, for he was ever mild:  
Yet drew she disposition from his throne,  
That without her no wight can move alone.   
Then he betook him to his former meditation, from whom he was first awaked: when another knight of that advanced crew, was by Fame assigned to speak, called sir Thomas White, the Goddess cleped him, who lifting up his aged limbs, yet not decayed, said as followeth.   

Sir Thomas White.  

White is my name, and milk white are my hairs,  
White were my deeds, though vain is proper praise,  
White for my country were my kind affairs,  
White was the rule that measured all my days:  
Yet black the mould that couched me in my grave,  
By which more pure my present state I have.   

I cannot sing of arms and blood-redwarres,  
Nor was my colour mixed with Mars his hue:  
I honour those that ended Country jars,  
For therein subjects show that they are true.  
But privately at home I showed myself,  
To be no lover of vain worldly pelf.   

My deeds have tongues to speak though I surcease,  
My Orator the learned strive to be,  
Because I twined paulmes in time of peace,  
And gave such gifts that made fair learning free:  
My care did build them bowers of sweet content,  
Where many wise their golden time have spent.   

A noise of grateful thanks within mine ears,  
Descending from their studies (glads my heart)  
That I began to wish with private tears,  
There lived more that were of Whites desert:  
But now I look and spy that time is bald,  
And Virtue comes not, being seldom called.   

But sith I am awaked not to wail,  
But to unfold to Fame my former life.  
I must on forward with my single tale,  
For sorrow will but break the heart with strife,  
White is no warrior (as I said before,)  
Nor entered ever into dangers door.   

The English Cities and incorporate towns,  
Do bear me witness of my countries care,  
Where yearly I do feed the poor with crowns,  
For I was never niggard yet to spare,  
And all chief Burrowes of this blessed land,  
Have somewhat tasted of my liberal hand.   

He that did lend to me the grace of wealth,  
Did not bestow it for to choke with store,  
But to maintain the needy poor in health,  
By which expense my wealth increased more,  
The oil of gladness ever cheered my heart,  
Why should I not then pity others smart.   

Lord Mayor of London I was called to be,  
And justice balance bare with upright hand:  
I judged all causes right in each degree,  
I never partial in the law did stand:  
But as my name was White so did I strive,  
To make my deeds whilst yet I was alive.   

But my prefixed fate had twined my thread,  
And White it was, and therefore best she like it,  
She set her web within a loom of lead,  
And with her balm of grace she sweetly dight it:  
And with consent her sisters gave this grace,  
That White should keep his colour in this place.   
WHen this aged knight had peaceably (observing decorum with his passed state) told his plame and unpolished tale, in all points like himself, clothed with the fashion of his mind, upon a bed of Lilies he laid him down, whose colour answerable to his snowy beard, made them take especial delight in the sympathy of their quality. Then said Clio, thou fair and swift foot Goddess, winged with the Dove, and eyed with the Eagle, let me be boldened (with thy favour) to demand one question, which of all this noble company, shall next dilate his life. Sweet Muse (quoth Fame) this knight, pointing to sir john Bonham, sometimes apprentice to a Merchant in London. Your deity, said Clio then (under correction) will mistake the placing. For this gallant lived in England in the time of Edward the first, & we are already come down so far as Queen Marie. Therein, said Fame, we do prefer their age, and the honour of their calling, before the observation of time which derogates from no other course than that which sometimes our Poets have used, placing ever the worthiest foremost, as to induce the rest by example, not to be stark for want of courage. Therefore it shall not be uncomely or preposterous when the younger knights shall speak after those that bore the honour of the Mayoralty.  
This excuse well contented the labouring Muse, who framing her golden pen in her fingers, fixed it ready to her memorial leaves, whilst Fame did rouse this worthy from his rest. A man of stature mean, in countenance mild, in speech manlike, and in performance courageous: his beard Abron, and his body big, and thus he began, when Fame had given him caveat to speak.   

Sir john Bonham knight.  

LEt them that pull their quills from Griffons wings,  
And dip them in the blood of Pagan's bane,  
Let them describe me from the breast that sings,  
A Poem of bloody showers of reign:  
And in my tale a mournful Eleagie,  
To such as do the laws of God deny.   

A gentleman I am of gentle blood,  
A Knight my Father was, yet thought no scorn  
To place his son within a prentice hood,  
For nature will appear as she was borne:  
A Devonshire man to London lo I came,  
To learn to traffic of a Merchant man.   

shortly from thence to Denmark was I bound,  
Well shipped with ware my master gave in charge,  
I deemed the water better than the ground,  
And on the seas a man might see at large:  
Me thought that Fortune there might fly her fill,  
And pitch and light upon what place she will.   

Arrived at last, in Denmark was I set,  
Where Bonham did demean himself sowell,  
That though some strangers there had pitched a net  
To catch my feet, themselves therein soon fell:  
And such dishonour dropped upon their head,  
As they their native Country quickly fled.   

My worthless Fame unto the King was brought,  
Who showed himself both mild and debonare,  
A cause of gracious kindness still he sought,  
And for my Country did commend my care:  
And though I say it, that might better cease,  
Bonham did purchase fame, and loves increase.   

A virtuous Lady, and a courteous prince,  
This famous king unto his daughter had,  
Her countenance did the base sort convince,  
Yet did she bore her gently to bad:  
Such was her beauty, such was her grace and favour,  
That watchful Envy no way could deprave her.   

Excepting still the praise of Proserpina,  
I may a little glance upon her grace,  
The words she spoke did ever seem divine,  
And Nature chose her altars in her face:  
Where in the day her golden flames do burn,  
And they that gaze shall fry except they turn.   

There bodies once consumed, love took their souls,  
And there sat binding them within her hair,  
She need not frown, her smoothest looks controls,  
See how she slays, yet doth the guiltless spare:  
Guiltless they are that dare not stay so long,  
To hear the music of enchanting song.   

Should I but speak the words unto her face,  
Perhaps you would suppose I flatter her,  
If so I have too long upheld the chase,  
And negligently spared the pricking spur:  
In whose sweet praise I end not yet begun,  
Because my lame conceit wants feet to run.   

Who will not judge the bravest Denmark Knights,  
Will crack their Lances in her proud defence,  
And now by this a troup of worthy wights  
Prepared Iustes, her beauty to incense:  
And unto me unworthy me she gave,  
A favour to adorn my courage brave.   

I know your jealously will judge me now,  
And say I praised her for her favours sake,  
Alas he looks not up, is bound to bow,  
A Ceader never springeth from a Brake:  
It pleased her well age not displeased me,  
Why then should Envy still with Honour be.   

They that have guiders cannot choose but run,  
Their Mistress eyes do learn them Chivalry,  
With those commands these Attorneys are begun,  
And shiverd Lances in the air do fly:  
No more but this, there Bonham had the best,  
Yet list I not to vaunt how I was blest.   

Each Knight had favour bound to his desert,  
And every Lady lent her love a smile,  
There boldly did I not myself insert,  
Nor secret practice did my pride compile.  
But of herself the gentle Princess gave  
Reward of Honour unto me her slave.   

In fine my Master's ship with goods were fraught,  
And I desirous to return again,  
For all the favours that my Fortune wrought,  
Unto my Master's business was no main:  
But so occasion trusty friend to time,  
Prepared me steps, and made me way to climb.   

Great Soliman the Turkish Emperor,  
Made sudden wars against the Danish King,  
And most unlike a noble Emperor  
Did spoil and ruin to his confines bring:  
A thing unlike, yet truth to witness call,  
And you shall find he made me General.   

A puissant army than was le●ted strait,  
And skilful pillars sent to guide my ship,  
Imagine but a Christians deadly hate,  
Against the heathen that our blood doth sip.  
Then think how Bonham bent against the Turk,  
Wrought wonders by the high almighty's work.   

Half of his army smouldered with the dust,  
Lay slaughtered on the earth in gory blood,  
And he himself compelled to quell his lust,  
By composition for his people's good  
Then at a parley he admired me so,  
He made me knight, and let his army go.   

He gave me costly robes, and chains of gold,  
And guarded with his Galleys sent me back:  
For Fame unto the Danish King had told,  
My got glory, and the Turkish wrack:  
He gave me gifts in guerdon of my fight,  
And sent me into England like a knight.   

How I was welcomed there 'twere vain to tell,  
For shortly after life had run his race,  
And hither was I summoned to dwell,  
My other fellow Worthies to embrace:  
Thus gently borne, a Merchant by my trade,  
And in the field Bonham a knight was made.   
CLio with the strangeness of this report, was wrapped so much into admiration (both in respect of his feature, fortune and fair tongue) as she seemed cast into a trance, never removing her eyes from of his youthful face, till Fame perceiving her deep cogitations, put herforth of her dumps, by ask her why she paused so long, her chaste eyes (it appeared) having all this while seen no other but such, whose countenance resembled winter's frosts, began now with the cheerful heat of this flowering spring, to wax warm with secret working of some amorous passion to excuse with suspicion (for it stood with her credit not to be faulty in any such idle toy) she answered, it was not the enticement of any misbeseeming fantasy that alured her to that sudden silence, but only a kind of conceit she fostered, how it could be possible that the Turk being a man of nature barbarous and cruel, and especially towards Christians) should now be so much mollified, and brought from his wont fierceness, to favour and honour one, whom by by nature he loathed and detested. For what though Bonhams' valour had gotten that advantage, as by reason and law of arms he might enforce the Turk confess, the safeguard of his life depended on his clemeneie, yet since the brutishness of that nature esteemeth of virtue but to serve their own lust and profit, I see no argument of likelihood, why the Turk having his adversary in his Court, that a little before had made him bow, not with gentle persuasions, bue with downright strokes, should not rather be incensed to cut off his head, then do him the least good in the world: so severe is the regard of honour, as rather than it will be upbraided with disgrace (though that disgrace were cause of many incomparable pleasures) no hateful, unnatural, or ungrateful practice shall be attempted, till the eyesore of their grudging heart be removed, and Princes if they cannot hear words, much less will put up wounds, and that was it (quoth she) that troubled my serious Muse.  
As these words Fame began to frown, her patience was provoked, that one so well instructed in the knowledge of such matters as she was (her whole study consisting of nothing else but of civil discipline) should make a doubt in so slender a contrariety, yet to cut off further protraction of time, she replied her this resolution: that she was sure she could not be ignorant, how that it was the affect of virtue that wrought such an alteration in the Turk, which, as it is divine, descended from the Gods: so it worketh beyond the expectation of men. And for proof thereof, already sundry authorities were alleged, as that of Dyonisius whose murderous mind could not but reverence Plato, although he continually inveighed bitterly against his tyranny, and that of Alexander, who loved Darius for his fortitude, although he was his enemy. Therefore it ought not seem miraculous unto her, when usually such accidents, as those follow Virtues favourites: But (quoth she) I rather think you were amazed to hear such rare exploits proceed from a Apprentice, and one of no more experience: but let not that seem strange, he spoke no more than truth, nor all that might be said concerning his ha●htie endeavours: the other four whom you see on his left hand, will (if you seem incredulous) confirm a possibility in his speeches: they are of the like condition and quality as he was, apprentices that purchased estimation by the sword. Clio blushed that she had been so inquisitive: but as it may be conjectured, it was not so much for her own satisfaction, as to take away hereafter all controversy, and needless cavillation as might concur by the curious view of such as should fortune to have the reading of her lines. By this sir john Bonham had couched himself again in the bed of his secure rest, when another gay knight, stern in his looks, and strong set in his limbs, carrying in his brows the picture of Mars, and in his manners the majesty of a Prince, with a low salutation made himself known by this brief oration.   

Sir Christopher Croker knight of London Vintner.  

IT is not birth that makes a man renowned,  
Nor treasures store that purchaseth our fame,  
Big words are but an empty vessels found,  
And death is better than a life with shame.  
This proveth Croker in his travails made,  
Of London once a Vintner by his trade.   

In Gracious-street there was I bound to serve,  
My master's name hight Stodie in his time,  
From whom in duty I did never serve,  
Nor was corrupted with detested crime:  
My education taught me so to live,  
At by my pains my masters purse might thrine.   

My fellow servants loved me with their hearts;  
My friends rejoiced to see me prosper so,  
And kind Doll Stodie (though for small deserts)  
On me vouchsafed affection to bestow:  
Whose constancy was such that for her sake,  
No toil was grievous I did undertake.   

Such was my state as I myself could wish,  
Devoid of care, not touched with egre want,  
My sleep secure, my food choice beauties dish,  
Only in this my pleasure seemed scant,  
That I unable was her state to raise,  
That was the lengthener of my happy days.   

Whilst thus I was perplexed owth that thought,  
Behold how Fortune favoured my desire,  
Of sudden wars the joyful news was brought,  
And Edward aid of Soldiers did require,  
Amongst the rest it fell unto my chance,  
That I was priest to follow him to France.   

My master would have sewd for my discharge,  
His daughter with her tears 'gan me assail,  
On every side they prayed and promised large,  
But nothing could in that respect prevail:  
Such thirst of honour spurred my courage on,  
I would to wars although I went alone.   

My forwardness perceived, my valour known,  
Over a band of Soldiers I was chief,  
Then sprout the seeds that were but lately sown,  
My longing soul had quickly found relief:  
I spared no cost, nor shrunk for any pain,  
Because I meant my Love should reap the gain.   

To prove my faith unto my Country's stay,  
And that a apprentice (though but small esteemed,)  
Unto the stoutest never giveth way,  
If credit may by trial be redeemed:  
At Bordeaux siege when other came too late,  
I was the first made entrance through the gate.   

And when Don Peter driven out of Spain,  
By an usurping Bastard of his line,  
He craved some help his crown to reobtain,  
That in his former glory he might shine:  
Our king ten thousand severed from his host,  
Myself was one, I speak it not in boast.   

With these Don Peter put the Bastard down,  
Each City yielded at our first approach,  
It was not long ere he had got the crown,  
And taught his wicked brother to encroach:  
In these affairs so well I showed my might,  
That for my labour I was made a knight.   

Thus labour never looseth his reward,  
And he that seeks for honour sure shall speed,  
What craven mind was ever in regard?  
Or where consisteth manhood but in deed?  
I speak it that confirmed it by my life,  
And in the end Doll Stodie was my wife.   
This Worthy having finished his task set down by Fame, to confirm the order of his first honour, reposed himself amongst the rest, where he found a sweet murmuring of private and secret conference what had passed by the several annotations of every one's praise, where they began (contemning the order of envy) to colaude the endeavours of one another's actions, none particularly arrogating in arrogancy the praise of himself, to him that did most, they gave most applause, and so sweetly concorded in sympathy, that all the Elesian harmony might have liberally commended their conditions: the hushing rivers were calm without murmur or contempt: the leaves stood still to admire these famous enterprises, and excellent achievements: the winds bound themselves up in the contentation of voluntary stillness, that they might be at liberty to hearken to these meritorious men, and yielded them praise condescending to their pains. The Goddess of darkness (for envy approached not the place, so that it was by that means continually day) whereby the Sun was ever glorious in the pride of his height without grudging or any show of declining: the bright shining of whose alluring countenance enticed another up, called sir john Haukwood, or sit john Sharp, from the Italians, john Acute, and from thence indeed he brought back into England both his name and his nobleness. The pictures of his renown, for as an emblem of endless honour, the Venetians wrought underneath his stature, set up in the city, Giovanno Acuto Cavaliero. This john Haukwood knight, he lived likewise in the time of Edward the third, that Prince of famous memory: when he pleasantly looked about him, being a man of a most courageous countenance, and an ingenious nature, thus he began to speak, as who should say he had wrong to be deferred so long.   

Sir john Haukwood knight.  

WHo knows my offspring, doth not know my prime,  
Who knows my birth, perhaps will scorn my deeds,  
My valour makes my virtue more than slime,  
For that survives though I wear deaths pale weeds:  
Ground doth consume the carcase unto dust,  
Yet cannot make the valiants armour rust.   

After that eighteen years had touched my head.  
Being a Printice boy in Lombard street,  
A Tailor by my trade, and I had lead  
A few wild years for striplings far unmeet:  
A Soldier I was priest to serve in France,  
The Prince of Wales mine honour to enhance.   

I served as private soldier for a while,  
Till courage made me greedy of renown,  
And caused me give a noble man the foil,  
That though with sturdy Lance did bear me down,  
On foot that day myself did keep in chase,  
Some worthy knights that feared to show their face.   

That day the Prince of Wales surnamed the black,  
Did mount me on a gallant English steed.  
Where I bestirred me so upon his back,  
That none encountered me that did not bleed,  
It was not I, nor Fortune, nor my fate,  
His hand it was that seldom helps to late.   

His be the honour then, and his the praise,  
Yet have I leave to speak what Haukwood did,  
When noble Edward had dispersed the rays,  
And by his prows of the French was rid.  
Three more than If myself did make the fourth)  
The gentle Princes than du●● knights of worth.   

His knights he termed ●s still amongst the rest,  
And gave us honour fitting our estate,  
For England to be bound it seemed him best,  
Because the French had swallowed Edward's bait:  
I took my leave, and begged on my knee,  
That I might wander other parts to see.   

The Prince enkindled with my honour's heat▪  
Discharging me, bestowed on me a chain,  
For still fresh courage on my heart did beat,  
Which made me love, and women's acts refrain▪  
Hearing the Duke of Milan was distressed,  
To Italy my voyage their was priest.   

The Seas I quickly passed, and came to shore,  
With me were fifteen hundred English men,  
We marched to Milan walls, where we had more  
Of other nations to conjoin with them,  
There did the Italians term me john Acute▪  
Because I had their foes in such pursuit.   

Castles and towers I had for my reward,  
And got enough to pay my men withal:  
But I to hired pay had no regard,  
That pricked me on which climbs the highest wall,  
Honour and Fame, whereof they gave me store,  
Which made me more audacious than before.   

Milan thus peaced, the Pope oppressed Spain,  
Then thither was I sent to quell his pride:  
Which being done I did return again,  
And stooped with age, in Padua Palace did▪  
And he that yet will hear of john Acute.  
In Milan shall not find the people 〈◊〉▪   

All wars you see do end as well as peace,  
And then remaineth but a tomb of dust,  
A voice of Fame, a black and mourning hearse,  
To what then may we like this worldly lust:  
It is an evil vapouring smoke that fumes,  
Breathes in the brain, and so the life consumes.   
WHen sir john Haukwood had boldly presumed by Fame's authority to speak, be laid him dawn like one that wreaked no guerdon for this grace, but as if Nature brought him forth of duty to perform these deeds. So ought every martial mind imagine, that he is borne for his Country, as the custom of the ancient and famous Romans was in all their actions, to study to redound the honour of their deeds to their Country. If this were ambition and pride, it would be laid flat in the dust, magnanimity extolled to the highest tip of dignity, and such a sweet concord and unity amongst men, that be would be counted most happy that lived longest, for the profit of his friend: when sit john Haukwood of this perfection of mind had laid him down again, another of the same stamp called sir Hugh Caluerley, as little ambitious as his fellow, and as resolute in every degree, arose, looking about him, being ignorant what to do: but Fame jogging him on the elbow soon awaked him from his maze, whose suppose was his desert, which made him covet to be obsurde. Therefore the Goddess was feign to antimate him on further, before he would be persuaded to speak. Gentle he was and full of humanity, insomuch that he might have won all the powers of that place to admire the baseness of his profession being a weaver. But they that have honour harbouring in their breasts, cannot but give him the right of his due, except the train of envy see upon the train of honour, as commonly it doth if it do see he that shall for himself, and appeal to the most precise, whose wits being more busy than beautified with moral manners, thrust boldly, yet ignorantly upon the well trained sort, approaching famous persuasion he began as suddenly as he arose suddenly, as if now life had newly revived, began to breathe this gentle breath from out his mouth.   

Sir Hugh Caluerey knight.  

WHo fears to swim a river dreads the sea,  
But he that's best resolved dare venture both,  
The greatest lump doth not the greatest dye,  
Base metals to compare with gold are loath:  
And why my quiet wit refrains to speak,  
Is this because the tallest ship may leak.   

In England late young Caverley did live,  
silk-weaver's honour merited by deeds,  
In foreign broils continually I strive  
Of lasting memory to sow the seeds:  
As by experience they in Poland may  
Express my English valour every way.   

After my Prince's service done in France,  
I was entreated to the Polish King,  
Where as the Frizeland horse doth break the lance,  
And tameless beasts a valiant race doth bring:  
There Maximilian hunted with his Lords,  
Entangling mankind Bears in toiling cords.   

There did I bring a Boar unto the bay,  
That spoiled the pleasant fields of Polony,  
And ere the morning parted with her grey  
The foaming beast as dead as clay did lie:  
The Lady's cheeks looked red with cheerful blood,  
And I was much commended for that good.   

Some said I looked like Olympian jove,  
When as he cracked in two the Centauris bow,  
As swiftly footed as the God of Love,  
Or green Sylvanus when he chaste the Roe:  
They brought me crowns of Laurel wreathd with gold,  
The sweet and daintiest tongues my praises told.   

These favours fronted me with courage frown,  
That like the young Alcides I did look,  
When he did lay the greedy Lion down.  
No beast appeared when I the woods forsook,  
So that the King supposed I was some wight,  
Ordained by heaven to expel their flight.   

In scarlet and in purple was I clad,  
And golden buskins put upon my feet,  
A casket of the richest pearls I had,  
And every Noble gently did me greet.  
So with the King I road unto the court,  
Where for to see me many did resort.   

At Iustes I ever was the foremost man,  
In field still forward, Fame can witness it,  
And Caverley at tilt yet never ran,  
But foaming Steed so champed on the bit:  
But still my horse his master's valour showed,  
When through my Beavir I with heat had blood.   

Yet men of arms, of wit, and greatest skill,  
Must die at last when deaths pale sisters please,  
But then for honour Fame remaineth still,  
When dead delights in grave shall find their ease:  
Ye long to know the truth in France I d●●e,  
When from the valiant Polands I did ri●●.   

Now honour let me lay me down again,  
And in thy pillow rest my weary head,  
My passed praise commands my soul remain,  
Wheerin these rosy bowers, with sweet dew fed:  
Though I was valiant, yet my guiltless blood,  
In cruelty of war I never stood.   
THus this adventurous Martialist having expressed the zeal of his conscience towards his Country, the toil and labour he sustained to better the tredite of his first calling, and the perils he waded through to patronage the ancient name of Citizens, he reposed himself again down by the sides of his noble warre-fellowes.  
Thus Fame and Clio (the one having marked his amiable parts and knightly gesture, the other delineated with her pen the eloquence of his oratour-like Oration) questioning together some few points, concerning the force of valour, & the virtuous inclination of many obscure persons, that although they like sepultured (as it were) without regard, yet if opportunity fit them to revive their courage, will (like the Diamond racked out of clay) excel, or at least compare with the brightness of glories. Rarest jewels concluded that there was no pernition but by virtue, no climbing to honour but by Fortitude, and none base, abject and ignoble but the vicious slothful, & fainthearted milksops. They were not wearied, nor seemed these former knight's tales tedious unto them, although many would think it a pain to be tied to the hearing of so large a circumstance, and very few but would exclaim it were plain slavery to write such and so many several conceits from the mouths of the speakers. Yet such was their desire to publish these men's deserts, and the delight they took to see the increase spring of the seeds of virtue, for they would not take the finallest recreation, till every one of the nine had fully finished their discourses, and therefore they attended when the last would breathe the secrets of his breast.  
This was a Printice as the rest, and a Grocer, sometime dwelling in Cornhill, his face was not effeminate, or his parts of a slender or weak constitution, but by his looks be seemed courageous, and in the height, strength▪ and fair proportion of his body, victorious. Thus being in all points armed like a champion, the very aspect of his outward abite, made semblance both of manhood and courtesy, wisdom and valour, knit in such a sympathy of opmyeration, that be seemed as much to be loved for peace, as praised for prows: and thus with a voice neither too mean like a child, nor too big like a giant, but indifferent betwixt both, he spoke as followeth.   

Henry Maleveret Grocer, surnamed Henry of Cornhill.  

A Precious cause hath still a rare effect,  
And deeds are greatest when the dangers most,  
It is no care that travels doth neglect,  
Nor love that hath respect to idle cost:  
A Bramble never bringeth forth a Rose,  
Where fields are fruitful there the Lily grows.   

By this conjecture what may be the end,  
Of his defensive force that fought for Christ,  
It is no common matter if we spend  
Both life and goods in quarrel of the highest:  
The least desert doth merit his reward,  
And best employed should have not worst regard.   

No vain presumption follows my devise,  
For of my actions 'tis in vain to boast,  
Yet with the Pagans I encountered twice▪  
To win again fair Zion that was lost:  
Unto which war I was not forced to go,  
'Twas honour's fire that did incense me so.   

For when the jews oppressed with heathens pride,  
Of Christian princes craved some friendly aid,  
In every Country they were flat denied  
Save that in England here their suit prevailed:  
Such was the fury of intestive strife,  
All Europe sought to spoil each others life.   

And as in London there was order ta'en  
To make provision for the holy land,  
My youthful mind that feared no foreign bane,  
Was so admired by might of conquering hand:  
As for a single combat they did see,  
Th'ambassadors made special choice of me.   

Then for the Tankard I did use to bear  
And other things belonging to mine art,  
Mine hand did wield Bellona's warlike spear,  
For I was armed in steel to play my part:  
A long we went to beard our daring foes,  
That soon were quelled with terror of our blows.   

I never left the field, nor slept secure,  
Until I saw Jerusalem regained,  
To watch and labour I did still endure,  
What is't that diligence hath not obtained?  
Yet grudging envy valour to deface▪  
By treasons malice brought me indisgrace.   

The good that I had done was clean forgot,  
Ingratitude prevailed against my life,  
And nothing then but exile was my lot,  
Or else abide the stroke of fatal knife:  
For so the ruler of the jews concluded,  
His Grace by 〈◊〉 reports was much deluded.   

There was no striving in a foreign soil,  
I took it patiented though 'twere causeless done,  
And to avoid the stain of such a foil,  
That slanderous tongues had wickedly begun,  
Where to the holy well of jacobs' name,  
I found a cave to shroud me from their blame.   

And though my body were within their power,  
Yet was my mind untouched of their hate.  
The valiant faint not, though that fortune lower,  
Nor are they fearful at controlling fate:  
For in that water none could quench their thirst,  
Except he meant to combat with me first.   

By that occasion for my pleasure's sake,  
I gave both Knights and Princes heavy strokes,  
The proudest did presume a draft to take  
Was sure to have his passport sealed with knocks:  
Thus lived I till my innocence was known,  
And then returned, the king was pensive grown.   

And for the wrong which he had offered me,  
He vowed me greater friendship than before,  
My false accusers lost their liberty,  
And next their lives, I could not challenge more:  
And thus with love, with honour, and with fame,  
I did return to London whence I came.   
THis valorous champion (having here made an end) bowed himself. Then Fame with her own hand gently laid his head upon a soft downy pillow wrought with gold, and set with pearl, and so leaving him and the rest to the happiness of their sweet sleep, commanded Clio to clasp up the book, wherein she had wri●●● the deeds of these nine Worthies, and as her leisure 〈◊〉 her 〈◊〉 publish it to the view of the world, the 〈…〉 read their honourable actions, and take exam●●● up them to follow virtue, and aspire to honour, and the rather (quoth she) because I would have malicious minds that envy at the deserts of noble Citizens, by proof of these men's worthiness to repent their contempt, and amend their captious dispositions, seeing that from the beginning of the world, and in all places of the world, Citizens have flourished and been famous, as in Rome, Caesar, in Athens, Themistocles, and in Carthage, Hannibal, with an infinite number more, that were by birth Citizens, up nature martial, and by industry renowned: and so they departed from Elysian: and within a while after, Clio according to the charge was given her, sent forth this pamphlet of her Poems.  
FINIS.