Londoners THEIR ENTERtainment in the Country. Or the whipping of runaways. Wherein is described, LONDON'S MISERY. THE COUNTRIES CRUELTY. AND MAN'S INHUMANITY. OS HOMINI SVBLIME DEDIT AT LONDON Printed by H. L. for C. B. 1604. London to thy Citizens, especially to such right Honourable, right Worshipful, and others, as were thy trueborn ministering comfort to thee, in time of visitation. Health, peace, and plenty. THat London hath been honourable for her state, admired for her wealth, and famous for her nursery, what living soul hath not heard or seen. That she is now most miserable, and overwhelmed with sorrows deluge; witness these lines of lamentation: oh time of heaviness! that such royalty should be priest with misery. But of her misery I have writ at large; the judgement whereof (right Honourable, right Worshipful, and wise) relieth on your favourable censures, who have both authority to convict, and knowledge to commend. If therefore out of this poesy of green herbs, gathered out of a spacious Country garden, you make your several choices of some (though but of few) to your contents, I shall think my travails richly guerdoned: survey them curiously, and you shall find much variety, but especially of Rue, Wormwood, and Time: But indeed we may rue the time that ever that bitter weed Wormwood became so sweet a Nosegay. My labour is past, my book newly come from the press, and it is in your hands to be censured; if therefore it pass with your good like, my desires are accomplished, and my expectation satisfied. In hope whereof I rest. The whipping of runaways. Even then when Peace & Plenty, like a pair of true borne Twins kissed, & most lovingly embraced one another, not only in the middle centre, but also in every private angle and skirt of this stourishing Iland-Euen then at that sweetest instant of love and amity, when the thought of man could not have comprehended a more blessed time, then, than I say (note but the sudden alteration of Fortune) was transformed our so happy and prosperous estate. But alas why should I exclaim against Fortune, which is nothing else but the idle fantasy of ignorant men, when indeed the repentant returning from our intolerable sins, might have continued our bliss and happiness. What should I say? what should I write? but that our Summum bonum became our omnimoda miseria, our good, our worse, by that unexpected change, such is the reward of sin. No sooner was the Lady of felicity (the divine Eliza) departed from this Chaos of iniquity, as one too worthy the government of so wicked a people, by reason of her gentle chastisements, but in the self same hour of her departure, did our almighty Father not leave us destitute, but gave in place of our deceased Sovereign, a royal King of an excellent and princelike substance, moulded with a divine spirit, ordained before for the full felicity of this languishing Realm, to the end that our disobedience may blush at the sight of his so gracious respecting us; such a Prince I say that one wrinkle seated in his brow, should dart such terror to the heart of sin, that not one of us should dare to offend the sacred Deity of the Almighty. But alas, such and so great was the root of wickedness grafted in our hardened hearts, that as before so still do the forward branches of horrible sin spring up in us, wherewith we make us arborss to shadow our lascivious desires, vailing one sin under another, without either respect or fear. The King of Kings, the Almighty glorious Essence, noting the stubbornness of so stiffnecked a people, and seeing that notwithstanding all his threatenings, thundered into our ears, by his Prophets, the holy Ministers of his word, we would not repent, but still persever in our abominable wickedness; even then when we thought ourselves most secure, and shadowed even under the wings of happiness: Did the God of justice, the high Almighty one, command his Angel to unsheath his sword, which seemed even to have rusted in the scabbard, by means of his long suffering, and much patience, and with that rod of his severe correction, to lay on heavy load upon the burdened backs of sinners: Oh how unwillingly did he proceed to this deadly medicine, like a careful Physician, trying all salves for cure, before he put his patient to extremest pain: Yea he hath often told us so, by the tongues of his Prophets, and like a loving Father full many times entreated us wicked and sinful people, even at our own doors, to abstain from the filthy desires of the flesh, but we regarded them not, neither was there any, no not one that feared the judgements of the highest. Wherefore being overcome w●th the intollerablenes of our sins, at last as it were breaking forth into such like words, Since they so slightly regard those whom I have sent with the tongues of fathers, kindly entreating them to refrain from sin, and they like disobedient children respect them not, neither him that sent them, he gave this charge to the Angel of his judgement. Let them feel in full measure the judgements of the highest: Therefore sinite them with the Plague and Pestilence, that they may know, that I the true and living God can bridle the lofty heads of the wicked. And forthwith was his power by his just judgement of Plague and Pestilence shown unto us, when after we had felt his scourge heavy upon us, we could then cry out and say, we have sinned Lord, we have sinned, Oh forbear thy rod etc. You know (most kind respected Readers) that the first stroke of visitation lighted on the very heart of this Realm, London the mother of Cities, and the Nurse of Countries, even in the prime, and on the neck of England's new borne happiness, when the swéets of Flora began to diaper the deasie spangled pavement of the earth, upon the high pinnacles of which admired City, the messenger of God (as I may say) sitting ready to strike at the commandment of the Lord, those, and in such places as his masters should give him in charged. At length (but yet alas too soon) fell the reward of sin gently on the Skirts which we term the Suburbs of the City. The reason why it pleased God to strike the exterior members, before the interior parts: I mean the Suburbs before the body of the City, may demonstrate unto us, that the Lord would yet look down in mercy on the body, if that the perishing of some loose members may cause repentance. For as in a fair and costly garment, after it is framed by the labour of the workman, and through his negligence, or mistaking, it chance to be made somewhat unfit, or with some other fault, and therefore doth displease the owner, yet if it may be mended by altering the skirts, or extremest parts, without taking asunder of the whole, he will be drawn to a better liking of it: So the Lord, that ever taketh delight in sparing and showing pity, and doth seek to recall many into the way, by the punishment of sew, in the first breaking forth of his wrath, began to punish the skirts and suburbs of the City, that the City itself seeing the rod so near, should fear betimes. And indeed the action of God so distributing and dispiercing his judgements, may seem beside this, to have had another cause, namely, the excessive abomination of filthiness practised in those places, more than the rest of the City. That as in a body, all the superfluity of extremities, are by the power of a vegetative heat, wrought to the extremity of the body: So this filthy froth of sensual beastliness, being by the force of good government, (such is the benefit of good laws put in use) expelled from the inner part, and as I may say, the heart of the City, did residence in the utmost skirts and appendent members thereunto, and became a fit matter for the first burning of God's revengeful wrath. Afterwards, partly by the vicinity of place, and partly by the unrespectivenes of the infected, and the want of care of the sound, but especially the conformity of unrepented sins, kindled the like flame in the inmost places of the City itself. And so ere long after it so came to pass, that not only the skirts, but also the whole body of the City was in such sort infected, that the very choice, and special members of the body divided themselves. I make no question (judicial readers) but you conceive me rightly; for this I endeavour to let you know, that I go not about to diminish the power and might of God, but this only I infer, that the visitation of the body of the City, came likewise by the poisure of the hand of God, rather than by the disorder of any one infected member, for God is almighty, all powerful, and can sooner visit those that are free from affliction, than the visited themselves are able to infect: therefore the only salve to cure affliction, is to make use of the Ancient saying of the wise Physician the Evangelist, Luke in his 13. Chapter and 3. verse. Except you amend your lives you shall all likewise perish. So that if we arm ourselves with hearty repentance, we may be sure that no infection can have power to harm us. So likewise saith David in his Lxxxi. Psalm. 7. 10. and 11, verses, A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee. There shall no evil happen unto thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling, for he shall give his Angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways. But to proceed to the miserable estate of the City, which God for his mercy cease, and invest a new the royalll estate thereof. Long had not the hand of the Almighty scourged the deserved sinners of the City, to the great terror of the residue not afflicted, but London, that dear fostering mother of many thousand souls, grew into such a general contempt, that she waxed loathsome and ugly, not only in the sight of her own, borne of her own womb, but of Aliens and strangers well may you say, no marvel if strangers hate her whom her own flesh and blood loved not. How many thousand Citizens, or rather evil sons, as I may rightly term them, fled from their mother London, which might better both have unployed their care in propulsing the infection from the untainted parts, by establishing a good order, and also their money in reléeiving the distressed state of those whom God singled out, to bear public misery: then thus to have renounced both these their duties: for though a worthy Physician prescribeth this as a sovereign medicine against this contagion. Cito fugere, long abbess, tarde redire. Yet fear to forsake their station, and to fly from the performance of their charitable duties, shows a distrustful flying from God, flying from God do I say? Oh whither could they fly? into what country? what town? what City? to live secure, and to hide themselves from him that is all almighty. Fliest thou to the utmost bounds of Europe, nay to any private angle of the world, why there jehovah is: Dost thou delve into the centre of the earth? why there is God also. And as the Prophet David saith in his Cxxxix Psalm. Whither shall I fly from thy spirit, or whether shall I go from thy presence, If I climb up into heaven, thou art there; If I go down into hell, thou art there also. If I take the wings of the morning, and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there also shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. Is the Lord of this might? of such power? and such wonderful omnipotency: and dost thou think thou art free from his anger and punishment, by flying twenty miles from the place of his visitation: no surely, nay, thou knowest it thyself for truth: Hath he not strucken thee? or in sparing thyself, hath he not visited thy wife or children? I know it is true, yea, to thy grief thou hast found it true. Hereupon runs the terrible mouthie rumour through the Country, that this universal Plague comes by the means of thee, by thy means distressed Londoner, for those of the Country not judging a right of the cause of this contagious disease, which is indeed the sinfulness of all sorts, and degrees of this land: and only looking on the outward means of increasing, and propagating the same, can philosophize about this infection, and say, it was not so much marvel that London (in which an infinite number of people are compact in so narrow a room) be tainted therewith. But the Country being spacious, and the air clear, and the houses seated in a well distant vicinity, might be kept untouched, without the carelessness of some amongst them that trading with Londoners; some rather to respect their private gain, than the safety of many, and also the vain tymiditie of the Citizens, who dispersing themselves in the Country, and with themselves, that deadly and pestiferous poison, drew many into the lamentable participation of their miseries. Therefore woe worth thee Londoner, saith the Country, hadst not thou been, we had been free. I answer no: for assure thyself thou Countryman, or towns man, whosoever thou be, that if thou be visited, it is thy sin that causeth visitation, for else thou shouldest accuse God of injustice, and improvidence. Of improvidence, by thinking that this thy affliction cometh not to thee, by the determinate purpose of God, but only by such accidentalll and outward casualties. Of injustice, by not observing, how thy sins have deserved this scourge, and that it is the just hand of God striking. But thou looking no further than the external occasion, frettest against thy afflicted brothers, callest into question the justice of God, and so dost hazard losing of that benefit, might else redound unto thee, by this thy visitation. But that the justice of God, in punishing thee also with this sore affliction, may better appear, do but thus reason with thyself: If I commit an offence, or if another offend, is an innocent and guiltless man called in question? or doth the judge condemn thee for my offence? no. And shall the righteous judge of the world show less justice, be it far from our thought. Certainly as the Husbandman doth not set his sickle to the corn, but where it is ripe: so God doth not inflict so grievous a judgement, but when our mellow sins do call down the same. Wilt thou avoid this Pestilence? scare thy sin more than the City; if thou remove thy sin from the face of the Lord, the City's contagion shall not hurt thee: but if thy sins remain unrepented, the Country's wholesomeness cannot help thee. Although I say not, that all those which escape are without sin, or all those which perish, are most defiled therewith. Yet this, I say, that thou which dwellest in the Country, shouldst not in this thy visitation, blame only the distressed of the City, which being as willing to save their lives as thou art, desire to draw the untainted air of the Country: and so forget the true cause, which is sin: but thou sayst this it is hath so tainted the Country. Truly I cannot deny, but that this means hath been subordained to the will of God, in bringing to pass this judgement; but how many thousand others hath God preserved to the joy and comfort of their friends. And I cannot tell whether the inhumanity of such as thou art, be not a cause of the wrath of God towards thee. But is this the only cause? nay, is it the chief cause? I know the contrary, for of my knowledge many have themselves fetched the fire, by which their own, and others houses have been inflamed: To be short, I cannot excuse many of the Londoners unconscionable flight; yet also I cannot but accuse thine uncharitable discourtesy. It is not long since one of the simple held argument against me touching that point. That had not London been infected, the Country had been free, I am sure you will all hold with me, that instead of proving this assertion, he proves himself ignorant, and he that amongst you thinks otherwise, I pronounce him one of the same sect and fraternity. For approbation whereof, note this reason gathered from yourselves, do any of you that are careful Farmers, or tylers of ground (after you have sown your grain, and that it appeareth fair above the ground) suffer any cockle or weed to over-peare it, for hindering the growth of your seed? No more will the eternal careful and loving Husbandman, suffer any unsavoury weed, I mean any sin to over-pere, or oversway his good seed, which are his graces, offered by the means of salvation he hath vouchsafed, insomuch that when he beholds sin in his pride, and grown even to his head of ripeness, he will suffer him no longer, but suddenly cut him off, without any further respect. And thinkest thou, that by dwelling in the healthful air of the Country, thou art shrouded from the punishments of God. Doth he only hate sin in the City, and not in the Country? or will he punish it in the City, and not in the Country? No. Where it is, there God will punish it, & all means are his: Thou mayst (as thou hast practised) keep out Londoners, but not the judgement of God. Seeing therefore thine iniquities be ripe, the time of Gods for bearing is likewise out, that whether London had been visited or no, thy sin surely had caused thy destruction. Therefore let not the Country think, that London's sins are the cause of the Country's punishment, but that their own wickedness is their own affliction. But London, now do I speak to thine, I mean thy Inhabitants, thy children, how disobedient and unnatural they have been towards thee: Shall a mother bring up her children with much care, great respect, and greater love, till they be of sufficient ability to help and maintain themselves, and in her distress shall they fly from her, oh unnatural children. Why did you so disobedient and unkind Londoners; you, when you saw your mother in misery, and many of her little ones, your younger brethren in distress, you took you to your heels, and played the runaways, when you should have succoured them, and lent them comfort in their necessity. Hast thou any thing thou hadst not from her, or by her means? Hast thou not sucked life from her teat, and wealth from her stock, and in her extremity didst thou leave her? if thou hadst lent her but a little relief now in her want, thou hadst then showed thy gratitude in that extremity, and she would have repaid thee treble for it hereafter. Nay (which is more) thy provident care might have contained the rage of the infection, and the God of love seeing thy mercifulness to the afflicted, might have been moved to mercy: but before thou wouldst lend her or hers any comfort, thou wouldst spend prodigally on the Country. But I prithee examine thyself, and tell me truly, what kindness didst thou find of the Country, hadst thou entertainment? Hardly: Hadst thou lodging? if any, thou payedst well for a bad one, and yet wert forced to dissemble thy dwelling, before thou couldst obtain it: for indeed wert thou known to be a Londoner, thy patrimony could not procure thee a bed, and yet thou wouldst fly from her that gave thee both lodging, and meat for nothing. Nay further, let us come more nearer to the uncharitable country, hadst thou a brother dwelling in the Country, whose ability by his large revenues, might aid thee in that thy extremity, and didst thou find a brotherlike entertainment at his hands? It may be he had more kind nature in him, than thy mother had at thy hands, but my opinion will not bear it. For experience in mine own travel hath shown the contrary. I know where a man of thy stature, proportion, & comely parsonage, whose exterior demeanour hath been admired for courtlike complement, whose tongue hath pleaded more like a learned lawyer, than an unskilful Citizen, to a man more simple than himself, yea to his own brother, and yet hath found no remorse, no comfort, hardly any meat upon extreme request, and for lodging a wad of straw, or a reek of hay, which he hath been as jocund with, as a bed of down, when he hath had all mortal felicity to attend him. Moreover, I came to another place of the Country, to a town of an excellent situation, upon whose battlements the wholesome winds whistles melodious notes, as if their air warbling did not at all fear any infection, at whose northern gate my horse and I made entrance, no sooner had I gotten part of the gate over my head, but a winter-weather-beaten clown repairs unto me, with an old rusty bill on his neck, stand, saith he, from whence came you? The absurd fellows rustic behaviour, forced me to spend a little time idly, by answering rudely as his demands were simple: Stand, said I? Why art thou a good fellow, that thou bidst me stand, yea, that I am, said he: why then thou wouldst have my purse, wouldst thou not? your purse, quoth he? why do you think that I stand here to keep sheep? why no, said I, but I think rather to take purses: Sir, saith he, I have taken as good a man's purse as yours before now: by my saith not unlike, said I: why then, said he, never tickle me in the teeth with taking a purse, but tell me who you are, thou seest who I am, said I, but I pray thee tell me wherefore dost thou stand here? why, (quoth he) to keep out Rogues, Rascals, and Londoners. Then by your leave sir Rogue, said I: And let an honest Londoner pass by. No sooner had he heard the name of Londoner, but the simple clown presently gives way, and standing a loof far from me, waves his rusty bill to and fro with these words reitterated twice or thrice. You must go that way: You must not come this way. With that, laughing heartily at the silly hind, to see into what a tunerous ecstasy, the very name of Londoner had changed him, I set spurs to my horse, and road quite through the town, without farther molestation. Within the space of twenty miles distant from the town aforesaid, I had gotten another town over my head, the situation I need not to stand upon, only the nature of the people, and the inhabitants thereof. The black shadow of night having canopeide the splendent eye of day, and twilight being past, making entrance into the town, I inquired for lodging at an Inn, an Inn it had been, and an june it was, but that indeed the bush or sign was taken down, for all the people told me the justices of the Country, had caused them to be taken away, and withal that they should lodge no strangers, which commandment indeed was very stri●…e observed, for I could neither get lodging, normeate for any money, being driven to such extremity, and seeing my horse very weary, and that I was destitute of any kind of provender, I knew not what shift to make, till at length this refuge I found: Within half a mile there was a very fair meadow cut but the day before, and the hay newly made, so that wanting all other means, I made repair to one of the cocks, and slipping the snaffle out of my horse's mouth, tied the end of his bridle to my leg, so that my horse well refreshed him, whilst myself betook me to a little slumbering repose. No sooner had the Harbinger of light opened the windows of the new-born day, but (as the necessity of my business required) I went forward on my journey. I had not rode six miles further from those uncharitable people, but an honest plain fearful Swain meeting me, gave me the good time of the day, and withal, saith he, Sir, if you love your life, ride not that way, but ride up by yonder hedge, it is not a quarter of a mile out of your way, otherwise I assure you, you will ride in great danger: I prithee honest fellow, said I, why dost thou wish me to leave the way, are there any that want money, which make their stand there: no (quoth he) but a worse matter, for there lies a Gentleman stark dead: God-a-mercy good fellow, said ●s but if that be the worst, I will not (God willing) leave the way; whereupon (arming myself with a faithful resolution) I made towards the body, where I saw the most lamentablest spectacle that ever mine eyes were guilty of. For in the highway close by a hedges side, there lay a very proper Gentleman suited all in black, a fair scarf about his neck, with a silver hatched short sword hanging in it, a dagger suitable; and dead he was, but how long before he died, I could not learn, nor how he died; but those that inhebited nearest to the place, told me, that travailers suspected it was the Plague he died of, and I could not otherwise imagine myself, for the cause that showed the likeliest probability, was this; that as the Gentleman lay dead booted and spurred, so his horse (a most lamentable sight) went grazing hard by saddled and bridled. What became of him I know not, nor how they buried him, I could not since learn, but no doubt, after the ordinary course of the Country, like a dog; for in my travail I saw another dead in the like sort, but he seemed to be a Country Husbandman, with a sustian doublet, a round pair of cloth hose, and a pitchfork by him, he lay (as I was told) two or three days unburied, uncovered I may say, for GOD knows his burial was simple. If the birds did sing him to the ditch his grave, why then he had a knell, otherwise a dog had a more honest burial. For the manner of his funeral was this, even tumbled into the ditch, and covered with a little earth, this was all his burial, and all his funeral. Oh where is Christianity become? Charity long since was key cold, but at this present, I think Christianity in the Country be stark dead. Yet London, London, notwithstanding all thy mass of deadly sin which thou art burdened with, thou yieldest Christian burial for thy sinful people, yea, albeit thy receipt for dead bodies be but a span, in comparison of the spacious Country, yet thou hast with honest respect performed thy last obsequios and duty to thy dead, and hast interred the lifeless bodies, of almost forty thousand of thy deceased Inhabitants, yea, and brought thy younger children more liker to a bridal bed, then to an earthly grain, decked with odoriserous flowers and garlands, and hundreds of people with mournful hearts attending on them. Which special instance of Christianity, no doubt but the Lord will reward in mercy. Therefore thou poor remainder of that famous City, now at the last remember thy sins, and while thou hast time call for grace, the Lord is ready every minute of an hour to hear thee, he hath lent thee longer days than thy deceased brethren, to see if thou wilt yet turn unto him, and leave to sin. But without all question, if thou be stubborn, and wilt still persist in thy wickedness, as the fall of them hath been great, thine will be greater. Wherefore while thou hast time, now in thy most misery call to the Lord for mercy; repent thee of thy former sins, and persuade thyself, the Lord will not only hear thee, but relieve thee, and send thee comfort in thy extremity, for he rejoiceth more in the conversion of one sinful soul, then in all the glories of the greatest potentate of the world. Experience hath ever taught us, that if but the least member of the body be distempered, the whole body is out of quiet, much more if the head (being the principal member) be never so little troubled. So fares it with the body of this Land England, the admired Island of the world, whose head thou art London. distressed London, whose very eye thou art to illuminate, and lighten the dark members of the same: yea, whose Sun thou art, which (keeping thy diurnal course through England's element) dost dart such comfortable influence from thy Horizon, that soak up all distilling tears of sorrow. But now alas, for so much as that head of ours acheth, that eye of ours winketh, and that Sun of ours setteth, how can that body of ours choose but perish? What resteth then, but that each several member according to his place, lament the heads distemperature, endeavouring and labouring by all possible means, for some precious balm to cure that same deadly headache. That balm must be the mercy and compassion of the highest, which is to be obtained only by prayer, with a hearty repentance of our wicked sins. Know we the means, yet will not seek redress: Know we a salve? Yet suffer the sore to rankle: no marvel then if the Pace of death lie so heavy upon us. Why should Nature have so little feeling in us, that we the inferior members, should suffer our head to perish, when that a little, little hearty sorrow, would salve a thousand wounds. Weep therefore, O thou Countryman, weep not only with us, but for us, I mean for woeful London thy head, who is now visited for sin: Let not her affliction be thy security, let not her plagues flatter thee, and make thee think that thou art free from sin, because thy visitation is the less: For well mayst thou perceive, that the self same scourge (though not in such terrible manner) yet in some measure, it stealeth upon thy Towns and villages. Therefore persuade thyself, unless London's affliction enforce thy speedy reformation, it is to be feared that thou wilt taste the like misery. Wherefore with London do thou join in hearty prayers, that the Lord in mercy would looks down upon us, that not only the remainder of the City, but also the body of the Country may be so united together in his fear and love, that so long as they have any being here in this world, his name by them may be glorified, & they glorified by him in the world to come. But to proceed, no sooner had I mounted the usual walks for shepherds, the downs of Buckingham, but I might hear a Swain tuning on his harsh pipe such notes ofsorrow, and withal singing to the same so sad an aelegie, that his pretty Ewes lest grazing, and would not seed for mourning: the effect whereof followeth. An Aelegie. No wonder though I wail, my sheep are poor, Yet sorrows nought avail, for all my store. The summers prime is winter unto me, My flocks are gaunt, no wonder though they be. My joy and comfort dies, drowned up in woe: Nigh Lambs by my moist eyes, my sorrows know. They scorn to live, since they my living fear, And pine to see their masters pining cheer. Hust silence, leave thy cave, thy cave obscured: And deign my woes a grave, woes long endured. Though thou leave me, yet take my sorrows to thee, Or leaving them, alas thou dost undo me. Silence moved to pity, Sy, wherefore undone: Shep. Wailing for a City, Woeful London. Whilst London smiled, my stocks did feed them full Skipping for joy, that London had their will. Woe is me, they die now, cause they feed not, Shepherd, Swains must fly now, cause they speed not. Yet when I pipe and sing that London smileth, My sheep revive again and death beguileth. Wherefore silence pity, my lambs mourning: join in our sad ditty, till woes turning. (weep by you Sy. Mourn Swains, mourn sheep, and silence will And as you weep for mercy, Shepherds cry you. This passionate ditty was no sooner ended, but I drew near the place, whence I heard that unexpected lamentation, where on a bank of moss I found a true love knot of Shepherds all woe begun, even all strooken into an ecstasy, of whom I demanded the cause of sorrow, one of them more free of spirit then the rest, willing to satisfy my demand, to the intent I might mourn with them, broke into these terms of exclamation. Oh Spring of sorrows, Summer of lamentations, Autumn of woes, Winter of heaviness, oh times of misery, when will your contagion have an end, your several airs have been infectious, whereby many thòusands have perished. Never since I knew the contented life of a slvaine, did I so long suck on the sour dug of infelicity, for we were wont to smile however Fortune frowned, but now alas as much subject to passion as discontent itself, wherefore kind stranger (said he) persuade thyself, that it is some extraordinary affliction that forceth such distilling tears from shepherds sun dried eyes. Oh London: and there made a colon, whereupon all the rest of the shepherds jointly with him did bear several parts in this sad following Eglogue. The Eclogue. Burst, burst poor hearts, you have no longer hope, Captive our eyes unto eternal sleep: Let all our senses have no further scope, Let death be Lord of us and all our sheep. Or if we live, thus (living) let us cry, (die, ‛ Heavens bless fair London, or poor Shepherds Cry, cry aloud, as they that hear our crying, May cry with us, and fainting, fall a dying. FINIS. To describe the particular sorrows of every grieved soul, were as impossible as to number Calais sands (as the proverb goes) the lamentation is so general. And that not only amongst the Swains, but the whole Country, and especially amongst Clothiers, and their poor serviceable people, for since the memory of man, almost there hath not been known she like. He that was wont to employ many hundreds in his work, cannot now help twenty poor, insomuch that it procures such emulation and malice twixt them that are wrought, and the rest wanting work, that it even brings a confusion amongst them. And in this case what should the Clothier do, some come to him on their knees, some with wring hands, some crying with Infants in their arms, but all of them with such pitiful lamentation, that it pities the amazed Clothier in such sort, that he is weary of life. At length thinking to give them reasonable satisfaction, he pleadeth, that the want of sale for cloth at London, is the cause he hath so little employment. But alas this would not satisfy the poor multitude, so great is their distress, and such an unanswerable argument is importunate necessity. And thus I may tell you, never was cloth better cheap amongst Clothiers, yet seldom hath wool been known more dear unto them, and of money I dare say that most of them never knew the like want, though they have money forth to great value, and the cause of this, say they, is only London's visitation: If then the mitigation of the pestilent affliction laid upon that City, would relieve the want of many thousand poor souls, (as it is well known to every one of us it would) why then let us use the means to take away the effect, that is, prayer to lessen sin, that God in mercy would pity London's misery. And now London, once more do I speak to thee, thou Nurse of people, so loving and kind a mother, dost thou always show thyself unto thine own, how disobedient so ever they be, that thy arms are hourly open to receive with joy thy strangling children. They like idle wanderers, have played the runnaways from thee, yet thou with tears of comfort art ready to entertain them. And albeit, they have truanted long in the country, yet thou must be their refuge, thou art their fostermother, none will entertain them but thou: Why then did they fly from thee? only because thou wert touched with calamitic; and albeit thou art not yet free, yet they are now forced to seek shelter under thy wings, and notwithstanding thy adversity, like poor prodigals they return of mere necessity. Thou didst ever love them, though they hated thee, so were they hated even of them to whom they fled. They fled from London to have harbour in the Country, but woe the time that ever London knew such extremity. Will it not be a most lamentable record to our posterity, to read this Index of the uncharitable nature of the Country? It cannot choose: Therefore that London's adversity may now turn to prosperity, that the rude and inhuman Country, may taste the wholesome comfort of the City, let us all prey for London's health and liberty. Which the God of all mercy, power, and consolation grant, for the love of that immaculate Lamb Christ jesus, our only Saviour and Redeemer. FINIS. LONDON'S WELcome home to her Citizens. ARe you returned? oh wherefore did you fly me, Leaving me naked, weeping, and forlorn: How many thousand Infants here lie by me, Ceased on by Death since first I began to mourn: Did they want comfort? wherefore did they die? I do not say for want of charity. You fed them full, but it was full of woe, They had enough; God wot enough of care, Indeed you were to blame, you priest them so, With more than their weak natures could well bear: Ill was that well, well bearing had been good, I would have borne you all, though drowned in blood. And yet you ran from me, oh whither then? Into the jaws of inhumanity, Unto the people that were worse than men, Now Catalogue in lasting infamy: There were your hopes blasted, being crossed, In strange adventures where your hope was most. Have I been thus long mother (wondrous Time) Under whose wings millions of people lie; Hath this childbearing fruitful womb of mine, Brought forth so many: (oh Security Why dost thou lull my young ones thus a sleep, Slumbering in peace when I their mother weep.) Oh let them see my tears how fast they trill, Am I their mother? Mother to my grief: Are they my children? children to their will: Are they come home again to seek relief? Oh bid them welcome, for I long to hear Their pilgrimage in this same wondrous year. Welcome poor pilgrims: what so ragged and torn? Have you not skirmisht with proud Poverty? I fear you have; oh wherefore do you mourn? And hang the head? here's russet misery: Indeed it is; say therefore which is better, A russet banck'rout, or a Satin debtor. I am too lavish, yet but hear me speak, I speak in love, and love doth make me weep, Should I not weep, than my heart would break, And in such passion, who a mean can keep: I weep for you, and weeping will not lin, Till I am sure that you are purged of sin. Sin was the cause of woe, oh welcome then, If thou hast left that sin of thine behind? The scourge of heaven is past. Oh Citizen, Or son of me poor London, be not blind With squint-eyed error; now redeem my same, Which Sin hath pawned by an adulterate name. Set Pride to sale, let Avarice go buy, Enuie's a devil, Gluttony a fiend, On want on Strumpets do not cast thine eye, Abandon Sin, and thus with tears I end: Tears that all tears of Passion shall surmount, Till London's Sin give up her last account. FINIS.