THE Run-awyaes Answer, To a Book called, A Rod for Runaways. IN WHICH Are set down a Defence for their Running, with some Reasons persuading some of them never to come back.  
The usage of LONDONERS by the Country▪ People; drawn in a Picture, artificially looking two ways, (foorthright, and asquint:) With an other Picture done in Lant-skipp, in which the Londoners and Countrymen dance a Morris together.  
LASTLY, A Runne-awaies Speech to his Fellow Runaways, Arming them to meet Death within the Lists, and not to shun him.  
Printed MDCXXV.   

TO OUR MUCH RESPECTED AND VEry worthy Friend, Mr. H. CONDELL at his Countryhouse in FULLAM.  
SIR,  
AT our parting from London to undertake our sad Peregrination into the Country, (amongst our Friends who are hard to be found) It pleased you to bestow upon us a free and Noble Farewell. We remember it with thanks, which cuts off the sin of Ingratitude; yet because Thanks, is but one word, and that your love cannot receive a Requital but in many, we send you a little bundle of Papers, full. For being Abused in a Book Printed at London, in which we were called Runaways, We in this our Defence request you to be an Arbiter, to judge, whether we have not just cause, to stand then promised. Bid him therefore send all his Paper-Kites flying from his Stall, quite through the City, and from one Eude to th'other to give notice of this our Answer. Bid him likewise to tell all Stationers, who have any of those Books (called A Rod for Runaways) that it were good for 'em to sell them away as fast as they can, for when we come to Town, they shall be All called in.  
Farewell.   

The Runnawayes Answer.  
THere hath of late come forth a Three-sheete-printed-Pamphlet (as if the Rod had but three Twigs only) written (as the Title seems to promise) by some Schoolmaster, for he calls it, A ROD FOR RUNNE-AWAIES. But We, upon whom those poor and wretched Names are pinned, no way enduring so to be lashed over the face in scorn, snatch the Rod out of his hand; and to make him smart a little, thus print we our Answer to those bold affronts, by which he does challenge us, utterly disdaining to be called Runne-awaies: and utterly disclaiming those offences, for which that London Whipper is so ready to punish us.  

First then for the Name.  
HE is a Runaway, who rather than he will learn a Trade (with some pains) under a careful Master, 
Who are Runaways.  turns Rogue, runs into the Country a Padding▪ keeps company with Gipsies, and strolling Pedlars, 
A Runaway from his Master.  fatting himself with the lazy bread of Summer, tumbling (during that Season) in a Haycock with his Dell; and in Winter, lying snug in a Brick-k●ll with his Doxy: If you wonder how we came by this Language? you must think, that in our Travails we could not choose but meet with Canters.  
Again: He is a Runaway, that being pressed for a Soldier, 
A Runaway from his Captain.  runs away from his Captain ere he be sent a Shipbord, or from his Colours, before he comes to the Fight.  
He is a Runaway, who having got loose from a Sergeant, 
A Runaway from a Sergeant.  takes his heels, and runs away from him.  

Roaring Runaways.  They are Runne-awaies, who in a Tavern Roaring in for more Wine than they are able to pay, give a slip out at the back door, and so pawn a Drawer to the Bar for the Reckoning.  

Good night Landlord Runaways.  Lastly, they are Runne-awaies, who lay the Key under the door, and cry, Good night Landlord.  
None of these base Ginges are we: we scorn to sail in such stinking Dung-boates. So much therefore for the Name of Runne-awaies.   

Now for the Matter.  
THe very Beginning of the Book is able to make any Coward Run away, for there's a Sett-Battaile, a Field apppointed, the Van coming up, and London leading it: then Shires and Counties pressed to march in the Rear; the General busy, Trumpet's sounding the Alarm, our Enemies about us, and the Weapons brandished over our heads, which threaten to cut our throats.  
He would make us believe he has been a Soldado by his terms of War: 
He has seen Finsbury fields Mustering.  In the Field dialect we tell him, that true it is, when the Armada of God's anger was preparing against us, when the Pestilence beat at our City Gates, and the Arrows of Infection flew into our Houses, when in the heat of the day the Mayne-battayle gave ground, and that many (or most) of our Commanders left the Field; what should we do but fly? 
Flight not for fear, but safety, nor for safety, but on policy.  It was not out of base fear, but safety: It was not out of a desire to safety only, but fear, lest so many dropping down every hour before our faces, there would be found not Officers nor Ministers enough to fetch off the wounded, or bury the Dead: Had we not reason to fly?  

A rough March turned to a weeping April.  Before this tempestuous weather beat us, O! what glorious Sunbeams of Exultations, rejoicings, Hopes, and Comforts were rising to shine upon us? We swallowed up nothing but the East and West-Indies in our Imaginations; the Golden-Age was coming in again: 
All these Castles were built in the Air.  Our English Almanacs seemed to speak of none but Holidays: Great-Brittaine stood on the top of her white Cliffs triumphing; London on tiptoe, overlooking all other Cities in the swelling pride of her approaching Fortunes: For no sooner was the old King dead, but our gloomy Noon was changed into the clearest Evening that ever our living Eyes beheld.  
A golden Sun (within a few hours) lifted up his head to revive us; a new King was proclaimed, a james was lost, but a Charles was found: A Queen was to come from France, and that Queen arrived in England: A Parliament was at hand, the Term not far off, Triumphs approaching, Pageants setting forward to meet our King and Queen going to their Coronation. No People could be fuller of joy, no City prouder of happiness: When lo! a volley of Thunder shoots, 
Earth levels out the ground, but Heaven divides the Acres.  and batters down all these sumptuous Buildings: And was it not time to fly? Heaven saw us boasting in our own strengths, and growing angry at it, hath turned it into weakness: Mirth hath shaken hands with Mourning, Riches with Misery, Bravery with a Winding sheet, Prosperity with the Pestilence, Health with Sickness, and Life with Death: And what is He would encounter with These?  
Hereupon, the City fled the City, and shunned that Enemy which fallowed her, and hath since met her in every corner: 
Folly to run from that we can not shun.  London was great with Child, and (with a fright) falling in Labour (her own time being misreckoned) was delivered of none but Stillborn Children.  
Never was such a sudden joy changed into so sudden a Lamentation: Those Bells which were ready to clean the Air with echoes at King Charles his Coronation, did nothing presently but ring out Knelles for his Subjects; by which means, 
Church-music, best and worst.  as there is no Music so sweet as that of the Churches, none for days and nights together hath been so jarring, so that in 13 weeks more than 33000. have fall'n dead to the ground at their doleful tunes: And who would (if he could choose) make one in such dangerous Peals? Had we not just cause therefore given us to fly?  
Be not you then (good Master Runne-away-Beater) so sharp, spare your Rod a little, and whip us not for going to see our 
* They were gone abroad ere we came.  Friends in the Country, we do not think but You yourself (could you have got a Horse) would have been one of the Tribe of Gad, with one of your Comerades; for there's no Dancing now to your Theatrian Poetical Piping: Neither your Frierians, 
If there were, you would give over your Trade of Pamphletts.  nor Cock pitterians, can for love or money help you to a Plaudity, we wish for their own sakes (and yours) they could: But many of them (that could get Wings) have kept company with us in our flight; neither are We or They to be condemned; Flesh and Blood naturally abhors dissolution: All desire to beget Children, but none love to see them buried: so mortally do we hate the name of Death, that though we lie in our last Sheet, save one (which must wind us,) we hardly endure the Name of Dying. The very Scrivener who makes our Wills, as he is cunning in other things, so is he crafty in that Conveyance, and knowing what Word will fright us, he goes about the Bush, and Writes thus: When it shall please God to call Us out of this transitory Life: 
To flatter sick men's Bodies may Fool away their Souls.  We must here the string twang out Life still, albeit Death's cold fingers pull us by the Noses.  
Again, (to add one handful more of Corn to this Sheafe of Defence, made up by the Runaways,) Know, that many of us that have shut up Shops & are gone, are yonger-Brothers; and are assured, that even own Fathers, (Knights by Degrees, and great Men in Possessions,) have for six or seven years together, suffered (nay at this very hour do suffer) their own Sons, (yea their only and Eldest Sons) miserably to languish in Coumpters, and other Prisons, upon two shillings a week maintenance: This is good policy to tame an Unthrift, but little charity to murder a Mans own Child: It's a safe Lock to tie to a Runaways Leg, but there's too much Iron in't: At this Ward we have no great stomaches to lie; 
Young Cocks love no coops.  we find our Father's hard enough here, and are loath to tempt their affections, whether they will come to London, and cry to a jailor, Fellow turn the Key, let me see in what nasty Chamber lies my Son. We are better as we are, and therefore fling away your Rod, and do not whip us for flying.  

The more that run away when a Field is lost, the fewer fall.  Besides, had we all tarried at home that are fled, in what miserable cases (according to humane reason, not diving into the deep and insearchable judgements of God) had we all been? If the Country loves us not now that are amongst them in perfect health, how would they have hated the City in her populous Throngs, when (perhaps) four times the number now departed, had then been smitten down by the Contagion? What Markets would you have had then? Where had Meat been found to fill so many millions of mouths? The casting out sometimes of Merchandise into the Sea in a Storm saves the rich Venture, and Our being driven from the Fleet in so hideous a tempest, hath (we hope) given the rest of the Weather-beaten Navy more sea-room, and so advantage to meet less danger.  
Was it not high time to take our heels and be gone, when the Doctors themselves played the Runaways? Doctors for the Soul, and Doctors for the Body, they both fled: 
When the Leaders Fly, shall the Soldiers stand▪  Many of them that stood the Battle, (and being worthy Commanders, fought bravely,) we hear are fall'n, and in their places (who were to look to the Sick and Wounded Soldier,) are crept into your City, a crew of prating Empirics, cogging Mowntibanckes, and cheating Quacksalvers, who if they cure one, kill twenty; it being more danger for an infected Man to fall into their hands, then for a sound Person to live two days fasting in an infected House.  
But what talk we of the flight of these? for Physic and Chirurgery, 
Physic and Surgery at a Non plus in this Sickness.  (those two divine Sisters sent from Heaven) are both of them puzzelld in their Readins, and driven a to stand in their own Practice. This Sickness turns Knowledge into Ignorance, for experimented Salves and Medicines forfeit their wont Virtues to astonishment and admiration. Our Flight than you see is Warranted by Ecclesiastical, Martial, Polyticall, and Physical Authority: Let us not therefore hereafter be termed Runaways; for though many of our Fellow- Londoners are in our absence turned into Pine-trees, our hopes are at our Coming home, 
If there fall good showers of Money, else not.  to beget a new and prosperous Plantation.  
Well did the Rodde-maker indeed condemn us for not leaving our Armour behind us when we ran from the Army, (some pieces of Silver to maintain the Poor: 
All our Money in the Country is turned into Quick silver. ) But whole Troops of Us have been so beaten in this Country-Leaguer, that we have Silver little enough to maintain ourselves: Beside, Numbers (we are in fear) will be so blind with the Country dust flying up into their eyes, they will hardly find the right Keyhole whilst they live (as they should do) to open Shops again; the Wards of the Locks (if not well Oiled before) will by that time ('tis thought) grow rusty. Let the Rich miserly Runne-awaies, 
If the Poor pine for all, let the Rich pay for all.  who fl●do● to save their Lives for their Money's sake, and to save their Golden Idols for their own sake, let them (in God's name) pay sound for their Horse race; who have too much juice may endure a squesing.  

Great-Men, Little-House-keepers.  If we left our Houses, and No body to keep them, 'tis but the fashion of Great-men, who rear up Huge Buildings, in which well Rats and Spiders more often then Hospitable Tenants.  
Now whereas your Qui mihi Discipulus, (with his Birchen Sceptre in his hand) threatens to fetch Blood from us, by telling what terrible Frights we are like to be put into at our coming back: Alas! He draws a Bow too big for his strength, and shoots that Arrow without any aim.  

jobs Estate.  What did job, who had seven Sons and three Daughters, 7000. Sheep, and 3000. Camels, 500 yoke of Oxen, and 500 she Asses: 
His Losses.  to him one Messenger came, and told him the Sabaeans had taken away his Oxen from the Plough, and the Asses, killing his Servants: An other came and said, that Fire from Heaven had burned up his Sheep and Shepherds: An other that the Chaldeans had seized upon his Camels, and slew the Men: An other that all his Children were slain by the fall of the House, as they were Banqueting at their eldest Brothers. 
His Patience.  But what said Job? Naked I came, and Naked I must hence: The Lord hath Given, and the Lord hath Taken.  

No Castawaies, though Runaways.  Do you think we are Castawaies, because counted Runaways? What should we fear? Say at our Return to London, our Friends be departed, our Kindred lost, or Servants dead, and our Goods spent upon Whores in Taverns; Or say, that coming out of the fresh Air, and falling sick, none of you will come near us, because we Fled from you: Nay, say that Ludgate or the Compters must be our Inns, where if Infection sets her Marks upon us, neither Creditor, Physician, Surgeon nor Apothecary will resort to comfort us: Yet have we a help in all this extremity; there is one Anchor to ride at in the foulest Wether: One Friend hath promised to stick to us all; 
Well fare an old friend in a Corner.  and that Friend, is the Deer, Loving and Beloved Earth: When Son nor Daughter will come near our Coffin, but shun our Carcase as loathsome Carrion, yet even then, that good Grandam (the aged Earth) will open her Arms and Hug us, and lay us in Beds, to take our everlasting Sleeps, And shall we be afraid to come back to London?  
No: for albeit your Whip-deedle was so bold to tell us, that Londoners in the en● of the last great Sickness, coming near the City, looked pale, like men going to Execution, that comparison frights not us; we, ●n plain & merry English bid the Twigger, not ●o be in such fear of our coming back: for an order will be taken for some of us, never to call at the Counter for a Freeman's Horse, to carry him on foot to Ludgate. 
We have set up our staff already.  A many of our jovial Fraternity are glad they have this unpolitike advantage. They must have been driven to study for a cleanly excuse, which heer● of itself (without teaching) is grown very mannerly.  
There be men that dare eat Spiders: Monkeys swallow them, and by them get sweet breaths; why then should not many Limbs of our Estates be made the sounder by this Infectious fracture?  
There is an Ireland to fly to, 
O for a good Wind!  and a Low-countries to roar in, and a Wales, to keep the wind of Lawyers from us with her Mountains: We can be Bankerupts on this side, and Gentlemen of a Company beyond-Sea: be burst at London, 
'tis but changing our Copy  and pieced up in Rotterdam. The Sea is a Purger, and at Sea must our Fortunes take Physic.  
Amongst many other evils, which might terrify men from repairing to London, the griping hands of Clerks of Churches, and their Sextons, and the villainous doggedness of uncharitable Bearers, are two main ones. Too many cry out upon their cruelty; they flay the living, and dishonour the dead, 
These Bearers are worse than Bearwards.  by tearing money out of poor people's throats, at the burial of Husbands, Wives, or Children, when it were greater alms, to abate from such Vulturous Devourers (those currish Coffin-Tossers) their unconscionable racking demands, and to give it to the surviving distressed Creatures. 
A Londoners money in the Country is brass.  We fare better in the Country; for there we pay neither for Bells nor Bearers, neither Minister, Vicar, Sir Domine, nor his Clerk will take a penny for any of us.  
And they deal noblier, than we hear a Citizen was dealt with, in a Town not above two miles from London, whose Maydseruant there ending her life, the Hatches of a Ship are not so close, as the doors and windows of that infidelian Village were; 
16. s for four London Bearers.  not one durst for money, dig a grave, no reward bribe the Clunnicors to carry the body to Church: insomuch that the Master of this Servant was compelled with sixteen shillings (for under they would not go) to hire four London-Bearers, to carry her to her grave, whose casting up likewise cost a price extraordinary.  
This dreadful season of so many ghastly apparitions, should (as we think) fright all wickedness out of the City: but we hear it does not. For all the distance of miles between you and us, the swearing and cursing amongst some of you, leaves a tingling in our ears. For, one woman having left Eggs in a room at her going forth, 
Bad Eggs hatch no good Chickens.  and missing them (as forgetting where she laid them) at her coming in, wished that the Plague might consume them that eat them. Yet after her anger was past, 
A Curse rebounded.  and forgetting her curse, they were dressed, and eaten by her children, all of them dying the next day after. You know this better than we, and are near to Blackfriars where the Curse fell; if you have a mind to examine the truth.  
This was a Rod for a Curser: but this that is held up next, was a Rod to whip Presumption.  
A young man having some place in a Parish Church in London, being (as to us it was reported) to lock up the Churchyard, called to a man, who stood amazed at the deep graves; and looking into one that was not filled up, 
No jesting with God.  the other called to him to Come away, and (after a scoffing manner) told him, he were best stay there all night, and take up his lodging. No, quoth the other, you may lie here (for aught I know) before me. I lie here (said he:) see, I can lie here at my pleasure; and so leaping into the grave, and spreading his body upon the dead, out he came presently in a jesting manner: 
None but Doves i'th' Country.  But going home, sickened that night, and lay there the next day in earnest.  
We have no such foul-mouthed women near the Villages we encamp in: no such desperate youths so to tempt Fate. 
We Londoners dare swear so much.  No, no, give the Country people their due, and there are none like them living upon the face of the earth.   

The true picture of the Country people.  
IT is reported, that the gates of Inns, and doors of Victualling-houses are locked against us, and that we are used like Dogs. We stand up for the Country: This is false: 

And peep out at loopholes. Have they not reason?  
Exceeding dear.   'tis an arrant lie: for all the Country people take their houses of purpose for Londoners: and for usage, they make more of us, than they can of their own kin.  
Most dear are they to the worst Citizen that comes within their doors: Marry we must tell you, those are not very many; and the reason is, they will not (in a dangerous time) pester men together.  
So well-given are they, that continually they pray for us 
To be gone. : and when (in the open fields, for air sake, or under a hedge for coolness) we sit down to eat or drink, they (good souls) will not touch so much as a bit of our Bread; 
For fear it chokes 'em.  it shall not be said, They turned us out like starvelings.  
So mannerly are they (now) grown, 
A murrain on their manners when they have any.  that if two or three Citizens walk through a Town, all the Country people step presently in at doors, only in modesty to give them the Wall.  
And so cleanly are they in every paltry Village, that if there be but ten straggling houses, you shall not for your heart see a foul pair of sheets in any one of 'em. 
Nor cleanness ones neither.   
'tis reported in London, that we are lodged in Barnes, in haylofts, Haycocks, and Stacks of Straw: 'tis true, but why? Alas! when Londoners that have travailed hard, scramble to a Town (all faint and weary) the honest Country people, point to such places, to the end they may there lie soft, 
Can any man wish more?  till their chambers be providing. O! they are the lovingest worms Earth ever sent forth: offer them money, they scorn to touch it: 
'tis pity they should.  neither (having so many Goldsmith's amongst them) do they weigh Gold. 
Never, unless it be at football.  Reach to take 'em by the hand, they will not do it for an hundred pound. And why? Shall they and we be Haile-fellow well met?  
How grossly do they wrong them, that report, how they stop their noses at us, & would make Bonfires in their Towns to be rid of us? This is another lie: They never come near any of us, but they are ready (Kind whoresons) to fall down at our feet: and for ridding us away; why, take your leave of them never so often, any Townsman thinks himself half undone, 
Nay halfe-hangd.  if he but see a Londoner Departing.  
Much more could we speak in their praises, but we are afraid they'll be angry at this; for they love not to have their good deeds proclaimed to the World. 
Who can proclaim them?  We will therefore conceal, what they would have hidden. And albeit we cannot glue up men's lips, 
We should be sorry else.  we know what we know of these People, and a good many of us are sure to be Bound to them for ever.   

Leave Them, and now to ourselves.  
NOw shall you understand what we do, and how we live▪ or, though your Beadle who Whips Runne-awaies says, that we are merry in our Country houses, and sit safe (as we think) from the gunshot of this Contagion, in our Orchards and Gardens: 
Where the Treasure is the heart dwells.  Yet we would have him know, that we look back upon our Disconsolate Mother (the City,) we sigh at her sorrows, weep for her distress, and are heavy in Soul, but to remember her Lamentations. far though She be from us, yet do her Miseries fly into our Bosoms: And albeit (out of humane frailty) we left her hoping thereby not to fall into Death's hands, (O wretched and deceiaved Men that we are!) Death hath with his long Arm, reached us and our Families; 
Death is a nimble Footman and hath overtaken us.  and therefore, scithence there is no Corner in the Kingdom (were it as vast as the World) to hide us from his Face, thus do we Arm one an other against him.  
In these and the like Speeches (now following) does the Absent Londoner give his fellow Citizen a little Consolation.   

A Runaways Speech to his Fellow Runaways, Arming them (though flying from Death) to meet Death bravely, and face to face.  
O My dear Brothers, and Copartners in misery! Death is a cruel Creditor, and will have all that we owe him. 
A Runaways Armour to be worn against Death.  Man is an imperfect Garden, and to keep it from being overrun with Weeds, it must be turned into a Grave. As our Birth brings the beginning of all things, so our Death shows us the end of all things: For if thou hast lived but one day, thou hast seen all that All Men before in the World ever saw; the same Light, the same Night; they came in as thou didst, and went out as thou must.  
Death then being a Part of ourselves, why should we fly ourselves? Men, nor their Lives are measured by the Ell, but by the Span: No matter how long Life is, but how Good: No matter how Short, so the End be sweet: It is but Once, and what happens but once can not be grievous.  
Nothing makes Death dreadful, but that which follows Death: The After-Reckoning troubles all our Arithmetic how to Cast it up: If nothing were to be hoped for after this Life, the basest Creature were more happy then Man.  
One entreated Caesar that he might be put to death, 
An old Soldier's suit to Caesar.  because he was Old▪ and Lame and Crazed: But (quoth Caesar) Art sure to be dead Then? Let us all be Caesar's: Whether we live or dye, let us be like Bells which at Coronations and Funerals are one and the same Ring: In Health or Sickness, Crosses or Comforts, 
Men should be like Bells.  Calms or Tempests, in Country or in City, so Tune our Souls, that all the Notes may be Sett for Heaven.  
For Death hath his A B. C. printed on every thing we look upon. 
Death's A. B. C.  To behold Sheets turned down (at bedde-time) puts us in mind, that that's the last Garment which we shall ever wear. If a Cloth be but laid on a Table, think on a Coarse, and (in feeding) say to thyself; I fatten this Body for Worms, which one day (how soon I know not) will fatten themselves on me. Our Last Day is the Maister-day, 
The last Scene crownes the Play.  look to that well, and the Calendar of thy life goes well.  
As thus we were Fortifying ourselves against the Batteries of Death, 
A Hotspur Londoner.  into our company rushes a Londoner, (o'er that fights under our Country Colours,) and He in a passionate Exclamation, cries out, Are you sending an Answer to The Rod for Runaways? And have you written so fully in praise of our Countrey-Landlords; I am a Tenant as you are, let me pay them my Rent too, and so entreated that in our Packet, his Letters of Commendations might be enclosed, which begin thus.   

An other manner of Picture, drawn in Landscape, of the Country, showing as well as the other, and (as some say that are travailed into those places) truer.  

Here the Morris begins Here's plain dealing.  VT que erat impatiens irae— O (quoth he!) We that have left London, ran from a Storm to fall upon a Shipwreck; to save our throats from cutting amongst Lambs, we have been bitten by Serpents, stung by Adders, worried by Wolves, and set upon by Lions.  

The Name of Londoner hateful,  That Name (of Londoner) which had wont to draw out a whole Town to stare upon him, and a Churchyard full of People (after Service) to gape upon his fine clothes, spruce silke-Stockins, and neat steeletto-fied Beard: That Name, to be Called by which, all the Land (from one end to the other) sends her Sons, here to Sow their Clownary, and to Reap Wit, out of that Wit, to Thrash Wealth, and by that Wealth to climb to Honour: That Name is now so ill, that he is half hanged in the Country that has it: 
Ninnio in Spanish is a boy.  As Spanish Women (in Sir Francis Drakes time) had wont to still their Ninnios (their little Children,) with crying out, Hush, the Drake comes: So now, 
A Londoner a Bugbear.  Men, Women and Children, cry out, Away, Fly, a Londoner comes.  
In Rufus his Reign, an Englishman durst not in his own Country say he was an Englishman; a Londoner now is at the same pass.  
Be a Londoner never so reverend for Age, never so Gallant, never so full of Gold and Silver, never so sweet in behaviour, so bewitching in Language, and but once come to be examined by (those Russet Images of Authority) the Country Billmen, he speaks to the North wind, courts a purpose at Sea, 
To Bait one of these Bears in Smithfield would make good sport.  seeks to soften a Rock, and strokes a Bear in the Baiting: Every one of these Tytiries is a Case of Rapiers to a single Poniard.  
It is no Tickling them like Trout, to make 'em turn up their Bellies; No, he that makes himself a Lamb amongst them is worried: Feed a Fool so long as he will cram, 
Suttle Gudgeons.  and he bursts his Belly: The more you fawn on them, the sooner they fly in your face: As Heat makes a flea to skip, 
A Hay-gee Gentleman.  so the warm breath of a Londoners mouth is able to make a Hay-Gee Gentleman ready to leap out of his skin through fear.  
Silly Creatures! their Country Spirits go but with Wherries, Oars would drown them; but miserable Animals are they to be so cowardly, for Fear is a terrible Hangman, and his Halters do they tie about their Own Necks. What can be more Noble then to do Good? and what more Good than not to do ill? But here in the Country (amongst the Barbarous sort) he is counted a Varlet that dares be merciful, and he a good Townseman that dares turn Devil.  
To go Brave here, and for a Clown not to care a Straw for you: Nay, 
No disgrace in the Country to have a Horse-Fly play with your nose.  in a Drincking-schoole to have him in his Sweat sit above you, and give you base language, which you dare not for your guts but put up, is no more disgrace then to stand Bare to a Constable in England, go Lousy in Ireland, or to Fare hard in Spain.  
To stand and jeer a Londoner in scorn, as he passes along, 
This Fashion will not hold long we trow.  is the Country Posture: To walk by, with an insinuating face, lifting up the Beaver, and crindging to a Carter is our City-Posture.  
If now you demand how amongst these Heluetians, we wear out our wearisome time; Here's one of the Bottoms. Of the Kings of Macedon, who succeeded Alexander the Great, some were afterwards glad to become joiners, Scriveners, Painters and such like: So Dionysius King of Sicily, kept a School in Corinth: So Aelfrede a Saxon, King of England, 
One King a a Schoolmaster, an other a Cowherd.  was forced in extremity to dwell with a Cow-herd in Summersetshire: And so, many Citizens that have been braver Fellows than Whifflers on Simon and judes' Day, are fain (in a number of Shires through England) to turn Haymakers, Cock Barley, and sweat with Pitching the Cart with Corn, thereby to win the hearts of those, 
He must needs go whom the Devil drives.  whose loves by no allurements can be won to them: For as Pity amongst the Stoics was held a vicious Passion; So our Country Gnoffes (Hob, Dick, and Hick) are turned Stoics, and hate Pity worse than a Lawyer does a Client in Forma-Pauperis,  
These are the sour Plums with which we have been fed in the Country; 
We hope for better winter-Fruite.  we send them to you for Samples; but if you should after dinner have all these sorts of Raw Fruit set before you, which were gathered for us, and that you were constrained to eat them, as we were, it is impossible but to drive you into Consumptions, for many of us here are fall'n into that Languishing Disease and we fear it will follow us to London.  

We will strale in by Owl-light but we'll see her.  To London! O Bestbeloved of Cities, what sorrows do feel when we name thee, because even then we can not see thee? As Children long banished from Parents, at their first sight of them, Tears on either's side (of joy) will seal up all utterance of Language, so will it fare with us when we behold Thee.  
Astonished shall we stand, too hear thee relate the Tragical Overthrows of thy Sons and Daughters, (our Brothers and Sisters:) And as sadly wilt thou sit, listening to the Stories of our Peregrinations, in this Wilderness of English Wilde-men.  

And they reward thee well for it.  Nights and days hast thou opened thy Gates to receive them into thy buildings: How often hast thou nourished them with the Milk of thy Breasts? How often hast thou emptied thy Coffers, to furnish them with Money? How many of their Sons hast thou taken from the Plough, and from their Poor and Rustical Parents, and placed those Sons (after thou hadst Tutored them) on the Pinnacles of Honour? not only to stand there with commanding Eyes over thy Inhabitants (O now dejected London!) but from thence, thou hast preferred them, to ride in more glorious Chariots, and to attend as Councillors, on many of our English Kings.  
Yet (ingrateful as they are!) Us have they in our sorest extremities, thrust out of Doors, denied us houseroom, even in their Stables amongst their Horses, refuzde for Money to throw us Meat, (as Hunters do to their Dogs:) and using us, our Wives and Children, (numbers of us being their own natural Children) with a more than Turkish cruelty; As if none else in this Kingdom had deserved punishment from Heaven, but thou only (dearest Mother,) and that God were the God of a City alone, and not of the Country.  
But stay, whither are we carried? why does this torrent of mourning and complaining break in to overwhelm us, when an Arm from heaven hath stuck up a Landmark to save us from drowning? The weekly Bills are come down (like the Dove out of Noah's Ark, with her Olive-branch, 
The Bills decreasing, are joys increasing.  a blessed sign that the waters are fallen!) O excellent Music! See fellow-Citizens, Death hath not cut off so many as he did in his four last Battles, by 3000. persons and odd. God begins to repent him of his anger, albeit numbers of us repent not of our sins. Celestial harmony played upon 3000 strings; the Bells have à desire to lessen their Consort, they have wearied themselves with playing sad lessons, and deafened the Air to stay day and night to hear them. These are Banquets unlooked for (therefore the sweeter; these are comforts undeserved, (and therefore the welcomer.) Our hearts being not a little (but wonderfully) revived, we will with some Tales of our own misfortunes here in the Country, bestow upon you one half hours recreation.  
A Londoner of great Estate, riding at the beginning of the Contagion, with his wife and two only children (having no more) was for his money well received into a Town, lodged in a fair house, the country-neighbors resorted to him, and were glad of welcomes, for their stomaches were not so subject to Qualms, and watery spittings, as since they are fallen into. But in the end, God (to show how farsoever we fly, hath wings to overtake us) laid his hand upon this Londoners two children, struck them with sickness first, and in a few days after with Death.  
Being dead, the Londoner (struck in years) fell into consideration of his leaving the City, 
A Caveat for Runaways.  & (full of sorrow) much lamented his departing from it, most peremptorily condemning himself, as guilty of pulling down the wrath of heaven upon his two sweet Babes, for his hasty flying (like Adam) out of God's reach, when at the holding up of a finger, he would find him out. This added some heavy weights to his sorrow, yet this seemed nothing, to what was laid upon him afterwards. For his two children lying dead upon a table, 
A rich Father Sexton to his own Children.  the Minister would not come near him to bury them; no Clerk (to get a Parson's living) would venture to Church with them; there was none to dig a grave for as much ground as the whole town stood upon; and for Coffins! had he been owner of coffers filled with gold, he could not with them have hired a fellow to make one. Then came into his mind the happiness of Londoners at home: for all their miseries, for all the tedious marchings of threescore or fourscore in a day to one Churchyard, yet there was a Comfort, a blessing, a rejoicing, to see those bodies receive decent Christian Burial. Had his children been snatched from him in London, I could, said he (his heartstrings being ready to crack with sighing) have had friends and kindred, to accompany them to their graves: no Ceremonies should have been wanting due to the dead: But now! and than he broke off; recollecting his spirits, and resolving to make a virtue of necessity, He determined (seeing no other remedy) to bury his children himself. A grave hereupon he digged in the handsomest fashion he could, & then fetching first one child, and after, the other (his Wife being a partner in this tragical passage) he read Service over them; the Mother, when he came to these words, Earth to earth, Ashes to ashes, performing that duty.  

A Mother and her Son.  This is too sad; here's one more merry. A Apprentice of London being handsomely attired in one fair suit, and carrying another down with him, went to see his mother in the country 45 miles from London; with fetching a compass (for he knew what danger it was to fall into the hands of that English-Spanish Inquisition, (the Muster of Billmen) he got into the backside of his Mother's house; to her, notice being given, that her son was come from London, she was ready to fall into a swound; she could not hold a joint; her cheeks looked pale, & her eyes with fear almost settled in her head: In the end, Affection conquering Passion, she ventured to see him. He, as she was approaching, falling on his knees for her blessing, the first word she uttered was this, God bless thee, & God bless me from coming near thy company. And so charging him as yet not to come into the house, but to keep himself in an out Woodpile, whither a Bed should be sent him, with which the young man was content, only it grieved him, that his mother (all the time that she talked with him) stood not only a great distance from him, but held her nose between her fingers.  
My young Master had brought a Comrade with him, who was to leave him the next morning: that night therefore they would be merry: good drink was sent them by a Maid, who set it a far off, and they must fetch it: 
The Conditions had been good in a dear year.  then had they a joint of Meat laid to the fire, which was likewise sent them, but with this condition, They were to eat it up every bit; for not so much as the bones they left, should be given to any dog in the house or town. Night being come, & our travailing Cavaliers having a desire to drink Tobacco, which they brought with them: a clown of the house (when the mother was in bed) plucked up a good heart, rubbd his cheeks and forehead, gave half a score hemmes, to fetch up his spirit, which ran to his heels, and lighting a candle, swore, Come life, come death, 
A valiant Coward.  he would to his young Master, he had but a breath to lose, knew he was grass and hay; but (how mortal soever) he would to Master john, and drink a whiff with him. The valiant Desper-view did so: but the Watch walking the Round (when the Pipes were discharging) the candle played the Tell-tale, & told them; 
More feared then hurt.  two Londoners were there. Upon this, the Town was instantly in a Hoobbub, the house beset with Browne-Bills, and Authority in a Base-Organ-pipe-voice commanded the two dangerous Londoners to be tredging, there was no staying for them there. The mother arose, cursed Tobacco that ere it came to light, stood stoutly for her son awhile; yet the town-bullets of threats & persuasions thumping about her ears, in th'end she yielded, they should raise the siege, and depart with Bag and baggage the next morning.  
In show they did so, and marchd both away with small dishonour; but the son secretly returned again at night, was lodged in some remote room (good for nothing but a Londoner) & there kept till a new Suit was made him; which done, he was washed naked twice or thrice, his other clothes aired in a oven, yet being smelled out, his mother's house was shut up for a month after.  
In another place, a poor man dying in the fields (as hundreds round about the Country have done the like) none would come near the body, 
A Man's bowels eaten out by Dogs or Hogs.  none give it Christian (nay any) burial: so that it lay so long above ground, that Hounds or Hogs had eaten out his bowels, and so was left that beasts might end as they had begun, to make their bellies serve for his grave. And this happened within few miles of Kiddermaster.  
We could tell you 500 dismal events happening in the country, & put by the people upon us, & all others that travel: so wretchedly have they handled men in some places, that when a shilling has been offered for a can of fair water, it could not be had for money, because they durst not come near the parties; and in one poor village, a Horsesmith, who never in his life was worth half a Bar of Iron, swore he would not shoe a Londoners Horse for ten pound.  
We could give you a full Picture of many others, drawn with infinite absurdities about them of their own natural committing. But in doing so, we shall but disgrace our own Nation, and leave a discovery to the world how weakly Manned their Souls are with Faith, and a confident resolution, in the Omnipotent mercy of God.  
It is fit to Fly, and withstand this Pestiferous Enemy by all fair and lawful means, but These Country people run backward (with too much fear, but no wit) so that at every feet removing, they are in danger to break their own necks.  
O London! how we hunger & thirst to be within thy walls: Would to Heaven the City and Country were divorced, and we parted from them, Away we determine to come, yet with many Arguments are frighted from setting forward: We lay several Plots, but build upon none: Sound every little Creek, and River, and find the water in some places too shallow, and in some too deep, therefore too perilous.  Scinditur incertum studia in contraria Vulgus. 
We Londoners a thousand Questions make,  
Which way to go, yet know not which to take.  
If we put not in at London, God prosper us in our next voyage, which is, that we may all meet in Heaven.   
FINIS.