London's Vacation, And The Country's Term. OR, A lamentable relation of several remarkable passages which it hath pleased the Lord to show on several persons, both in London, and the Country in this present Visitation, 1636. with the number of those that died at London and Newcastle, this present year. With new Additions. By H. C. Lord jesus receive my soul. LONDON, Printed for Richard Harper, and are to be sold at his shop in Smithfield, at the Hospital Gate. 1637. To the Reader. COurteous Reader, I here present to th● view a brief collection of several passages, brought forth in this year of sorrow: yet as God is always more wonderful in his mercies, then in his judgements terribl● to a repenting and sorrowful nation; so in his chastisements and correction he always shows some remarkable passages to those surviving, that they may speak and tell of his wondrous works to their children's children That great and terrible year● 1625. when thousands upon thousands were piled up in our mother earth, was for te●●● and number the very next and immediate unto this now present, and that 1625. was the greatest that our Chronicles can afford, and yet then England was not half so much pestered with the violence of the Pestilence in several places as now it is: as witness now that famous and fruitful place that hath been to many of our Merchants: Newcastle I mean; how many there have died this year, which in comparison to London is but an handful of people, and there by ●ust account from the 21 of May, 1636. to the 8. of Octob. of all, and in Garthead of the Plague. And moreover to many several towns in the Country distant from London and about London, so that ●he wrath of the Lord is kindled; then like Nini●ch, let us bless God for the preservation of our good and pious King, who hath called a Fast; now ●●t our hearts be but truly repentant, deserving this ●odly direction, and then we shall see this famous City London not like a place near jerusalem, called Golgotha, but like Niniveh, which the Lord was pleased to spare by repentance and true humiliation This time affords small trading or none at all, and those that have the trading at this season are Sextons, Coffin makers, Grave-makers, and Bea●e●s; all these have so much doings, that almost all ●th●r trades have none at all: the whole kingdom 〈◊〉 under this heavy burden; Lord sheath the lest 〈◊〉 Angels sword, and do th●● go on in mer●● as thou hast begun to cause the destroying Angel 〈…〉 his hard, that we may live to glorify thy 〈◊〉 Name. Lord 〈◊〉 thy divine comfort and assi●ance remain with us day and night in this most 〈…〉 and dangerous time. Amen. The number of those that died at Newcastle in this present year. 1636 Buried of all diseases in Newcastle, as followeth. May 21 59 May 28 55 june 4 91 june 11 122 june 18 99 june 25 162 july 2 133 july 9 172 july 16 1●4 july 23 212 july 30 27● August 6 366 Aug. 13 334 Aug. 10 402 Aug. 27 430 Septem. 3 460 Septem. 10 314 Septem. 17 120 Septem. 24 136 Octob. 1 80 Octob. 8 83 The total is 4764. 1636 Buried in Ga●thhead in Newcastle as followeth. May 30 10 june 6 24 june 13 19 june 20 3●● june 27 40 july 4 75 july 11 66 july 18 60 july 25 60 August 1 29 August 8 17 August 15 18 August 22 ●3 August 29 14 Septem. 5 11 Septem. 12 7 Septem. 19 4 Septem. 26 6 Octob. 3 2 Octob. 10 2 Octob. 17 4 The total is 515. The total of all the burials in London of all diseases this present Visitation, 1636. is 27415. Of the Plague 12102. The relation of the man buried in S. Sepulchers new Churchyard, on Monday, being the 29. of August, 1636. MOrtals behold here prostrate to your sight, The City's terror, and the Country's fright. The Lord hath drawn his sword, many are slain, And who can tell when 'twill be sheathed again? For sin the Plague is now among us sent, Many have sinned, and yet but few repent. The City to the Country now are run, Although the Country them so much do shun, And to speak truth some Citizens poor elves, By flying thither, have undone themselves. Yet some have said, i'th' Country they are free, Blind fools are they which think God cannot see ●n every place his power itself doth show, Strange things he doth, his wisdom willeth so: His sword is drawn among us, yet we spend Our time in sin, not thinking of our end: So that the Lord to us may rightly say, The people eat, and drink, and rise to play. Mortals hear note, and once your sins despise, See here a man's grave digged, fore his own eyes, In S. Sepulchers new Churchyard 'tis said, I'th' interim that his grave t'his mind was made, He took his book and prayed, oh blessed be God That chastised him with his paternal rod, Which did not take his sense from him away, But gave him time and sense to read and pray: And when of's prayers he an end had made, Death ends his life, so he in's grave was laid. Oh then remember this you that have health. Death plays the thief, takes many a one by stealth, Before of him they think, this I may say He hardly will allow them time to pray. Then we that live had need to pray apace, That sees death and the grave before our face. Let's humbly pray, and Ninive cloath-like, Then God in mercy will forbear to strike. Of the man that revived again in S. George's Churchyard. A Country man, as 'twas to me reported, About some business to this town resorted, Finding himself not well, straight way he went Into S. George's fields in discontent, He drunk a pennyworth of milk 'tis said, And down upon the ground himself he laid; The milk-woman of whom the milk he bought, Told him to lie upon the ground 'twas naught, And wished him then to rise, but he replied, That he would there but little time reside Upon the ground, only to rest his head, And sleep a little on that earthy bed; She seeing him so resolutely bend, Took up her milk pail, and away she went. And for a certain truth to me 'twas told, That after she in town her milk had sold, She came the same way home, and found him dead As she poor woman then imagined, But 'twas not so, for in a trance lay he, Yet others were deceived as well as she; For all that saw him did conclude and say, The man is dead, let us make haste away, And to the Sexton of the Parish go, Telling him how it is, then let him do As he sees fit, then unto him they told, And did the matter unto him unfold. And to the Masters of the Parish then, The Sexton went with other honest men, And told them how the matter than did stand, The Masters of the Parish gave command To bring the man that was supposed dead, Into the Churchyard, which they quickly did, And then the searchers they were fetched with speed, So all concluded he was dead indeed; And when the corpse the Searchers had survaid, They saw no cause why they should be afraid; For of the Plague they found the man was free As clear a corpse as ever they did see: So then to bury him they all conclude, But mark I pray what afterward ensued. It being near night, the Sexton did agree To bury him when he could better see. The first work in the morning that he did, Should be to bury him: mean while he hid The man under a Coffin, as some say, Not that he feared that he would run away, But that no ravenous thing should him offend, So that in this he was the dead man's friend. ●e that lay na'●●● long upon the world, ●urely he could not choose but be a col●. Next morning he did rise as from the dead, And finding that himself was covered Under a Coffin, he did wonder much, He threw the Coffin off him with a touch: ●o up he gets, than up and down did walk, And at the length he heard some people ●alk; Over a brickwall th●n this man did climb, And called for help, to call for help 'twas time. ●nto the Axe yard then this man was carried, And cherish well till dead indeed and buried. Before much people came him for to view, Almagining that some of them him knew. Five days after he lived, retaining breath, And then he changed his mortal life for death. Now in the same Churchyard his bones remain Until the Trumpet raise them up again. A true relation of certain 〈◊〉 that robbed a Hosiers shop in the new Town, near S. Martin's lane, putting the man's goods into a Coffin. GOd spares the wicked sometimes for this end, That they might see his judgements & amend. But they chose grow worse and worse, And so pull down upon their heads a curse: Neither God's judgements nor his mercies can Effectually work in a wicked man, Witness the villainies that now are done, Some to rob Orchards hastily will run; Others to break up houses will not spare, From drunkenness & whoredom not for bear. Among the rest of hellhounds some there were That without touch of conscience, grace or fear, Most impudently with a Coffin went To rob a Hosiers shop was their intent; And late at night the man being forth 'tis said, To rob his shop these knaves were not afraid, But boldly took the stockings from the shelves, And put them in the Coffin, wicked Elves. The Coffin being full, they nailed it down, And on their shoulders did go through the town And with a link before away they pass, And all that saw it thought no less but 'twas A Coarse, and he that owed the goods likewise, Did see it bore away before his eyes. He met them and did shun them, but at last passed When he came home, and they from him were He found himself robbed, and almost undone. And pitied was by every mother's son, But he no news of them could ever hear, What is become of them, or where they are? Death's house a coffin of mortality, They made a cloak to hide their villainy. They cannot mock death long, for in the end The hangman with a rope will them befriend. Of 3. youngsters that presumed to rob an Orchard, and feigned themselves sick when the master of it came to them. NOw what say you to three mad knaves that went To rob an Orchard all with one consent; Muffled, they say, with clouts about their heads, Like sick men newly crept from out their beds, With each of them a bag under his arm, As if they went on purpose to do harm; And so into an Orchard these three comes, And filled their bags with apples, pears, & plums. The good man of the house hearing a noise, And thinking them to be unhappy boys, Did take a cudgel, and to them he goes, Minding for to bestow on them some blows: But seeing that all their 3. heads were clouted, Of them he was afraid, and him they flouted. Can you not be content bold knaves, quoth he, To rob mine Orchard, but endanger me With your infectious breath? depart I say, With bag and baggage, longer do not stay. For if you do, the town I'll raise anon: So filled their bags, I'm glad quoth he you're gone. Instruction. He that of God's just judgement makes a sport, Like these three men, one day shall suffer for 't. He that shall fain himself sick in this kind, To fear another, he perhaps may find A booty as these men did, and withal A curse will follow to bring such to thrall. Good God in midst of all our misery, Shall we consent to plot a villainy, So great, so foul, so impudent and vild! Houses infected, and men's minds defiled With such impurity! can we expect The plague should cease, when we ourselves infect With sin, that is the cause of all infection? Can we do this and look for thy protection? Lord of thy judgements let's not make a sport, For if we do, thou'lt surely plague us for't. A strange and true report of a Gentleman riding into the Country, finding himself not well, and what chanced to him on the way. A Gentleman as true report doth tell, Into the Country road, a while to dwell: Finding himself saint, he began to grieve, And stripping up at last his doublet sleeve, He found upon his arm some blue spots there, Which like unto God's tokens did appear. So spurs his horse, and speedily he rides To the next town, and there all night abides. But yet before he went to bed 'tis said, In's chamber he a good fire caused be made: So when the Chamberlain had made a fire, A pail of water he did then desire. Then called he for the best sheet in the Inn, The which he wet, and wrapped himself therein. The sheet being wet, and he stark naked in it, About his body he did straight way pin it; Which being done, away to bed he went. The morning being come, and the night spent, He found himself well, and his body clear From all those spots which before did appear. Strange physic this may seem to many a one, And yet he proved himself a good physician. But y●● my Doctor he shall never be, Such physic sure would be the death of me. And to conclude, he paid most liberally For all he called for, especially For his wet winding sheet, and gave command To bury that some wet s●eet out of hand, A yard deep in the ground, or somewhat more, Which was an honest care of him therefore. And so ●or all things he gave them content, Then takes his leave, and so away he went. The sheet was buried too immediately, But covetousness would not let it long lie Under the ground, then buried as it were, But took this sheet up without wit or fear. And all of them that were so foolhardy, That sheet to take up, of the plague did dye: And all the rest that had no hand in it, Escaped the plague, who had more grace and wit. Thus covetousness, that ne'er did good to any, Was here you see the enemy of a many. Lord keep our hearts from filthy avarice, Let's live content, and make us truly wise. Of one that lost in his travel two ●ands wrapped in a napkin. ONe lost two bands wrapped in a napkin fair, A woman passed by as I do hear; Her son and daughter as I understand Was with her, unto whom she gave command By any means not to take up those bands, Lest with those things they should infect their hands: Her son obeyed her voice, but yet her daughter Willing to have those things, came slowly after, And with her foot did spurn along these bands, As being afraid to touch them with her hands; Until she came unto a pool of water, And then she washed them clean, and followed after. Of one that lay unburied four days after he was dead, being of the sickness. A Certain man lay dead as it is said, Few miles from London, that made the town afraid. Four days above the ground this man did lie Unburied, 'tis reported certainly: To bury him no man durst be so bold, Or lay his carcase in an earthly mould, Till with the sight of him they were oppressed, And then one being wiser than the rest, Did tell the Masters of the Parish this, To send to London it were not amiss For four stout bearers, and we shall be rid Of this annoyance: so it seems they did, So he was buried, and the men well paid For burying him that made them all afraid. Thus in the Country, City, great and small, Time, death, and sickness makes the stoutest fall. The Belmans call on Thursday morning. THis day the weekly Bills come out To put the people out of doubt How many of the Plague do dye, We sum them up most carefully. But oh if our transgressions all, Both how we sin, and how we fall, God should take notice what they are, Where should we sinful men appear●! We look upon the punishment, But not upon the cause 'tis sent. Remove the cause, and you shall see The Plague shall soon removed be. Upon a Gentleman full of the Tokens in Woods-Close, that lay there two days, and afterwards died. A Gentleman finding himself not well, Walked into th'fields near unto Clerkenwell: Finding himself diseased, he him betook Into the fields, and company forsook, And in Woods-close he lay, with woeful heart, Grieving for sin (which is the cause of smart.) He there upon the straw did humbly pray, Having the Tokens on him as some say, Most ardently unto the King of heaven, That he of all his sins might be forgiven. He marked was for death, God showed him he Within this world had not long time to be. Lord we are not worthy that same time to know, When death shall summon us from hence to go. Good God enable us to dye well then, That we may live in heaven with perfect men. Upon a man and his wife going into the Country, to visit their friends in this Visitation, and their entertainment on the way. AN honest Citizen with's loving wife, Into the Country went to save their life, As they late feared, in London should be lost, But note how they fort on the way were crossed. They came at night unto their journey's end, And for their money did expect a friend, To find i'th' Country, but it proved not so, For they i'th' cage to lodge were forced to go, Or lie i'th' street; this choice was put to them They must be ruled by law, or law contemn, They lay i'th' Cage, and glad to have fresh straw, And when as morning came that light they saw, The Constable discharged their lodgings hire, With these same words, I'll set your beds on fire. London's Lord have mercy upon us. Let all men consider both old men and young, They cannot live ever, although they live long: Then sit down in sorrow, sigh, sob and relent, Stay n●t till to morrow, before ye repent. LOok on thy soul defiled with sin, Fair London look what thou hast done: God's high displeasure thou dost win For thy offences every one. If Ninevie like thou pray and fast, And to the Lord dost cry and call, He'll bless thee, though thy doors be crossed With Lord have mercy upon us all. The plague, alas, awo is me Like fiery Serpents bites us sore: The brazen Serpent must we see, I mean our Christ whom we adore. Our Saviour dear, whose ●i●e was lost, To ●ree us from eternal thr●ll, Will bless us though our doors be crossed With Lord have mercy on us all. Pride now doth overwhelm the land, And wickedness doth much abound, Which makes the Lord stretch forth his hand, Our strange inventions to confound. ●or now we see unto our cost, Our great transgressions are not small, Wherefore, alas, our doors are crossed With Lord have mercy on us all. Let drunkards now their cups forsake, That swallow down the dregs of sin, Let soul blasphemers stand and quake, For their misdeeds that they have done. For we are with afflictions tossed, And sorrow doth to us befall, And now behold our doors are crossed With Lord have mercy on us all. You that luscivious lives have led, Embracing fornication still, That sleep upon a sinful bed, Your wicked fancies to fulfil. Those vanity that you love most, Bring horror, death, and deadly thrall, And now, alas, our doors are crossed With Lord have mercy on us all: Let him that doth his brother hate, Like Cain that killed his mother's son, Repent before it be too late, For his misdeeds that he ha●h done. For sorrow is landed on our c●●st, Our honey is turned to bitter gall, And through 〈◊〉 sin 〈◊〉 d●res ●re crossed With Lord have mercy on us all. 〈◊〉 f●ll d●w● 〈…〉 London 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉 and con●●si● 〈◊〉 you shames, 〈◊〉 our priode, you● 〈…〉 〈◊〉 ye in sin are almost 〈◊〉, Th● 〈◊〉 on our knees down fall, 〈…〉 our doors 〈…〉 With Lord have mercy on us all. Y●u 〈◊〉 lots and you strumpet's 〈◊〉, V●in glorious in your strange attire, Whose hearts in sin are much imbrued, Repent with speed I you desire, For sin brings sadness to our coast, Sin c●used I●sabell to fall, And for our sins our doors are crossed With Lord have mercy on us all. We 〈…〉 every street, But 〈…〉 us we have 〈◊〉 slain, 〈…〉 shall with destruction meet, 〈◊〉 redness in us doth ●aign●. 〈◊〉 in sin ourselves do boast, O●● joying at another's fall: 〈◊〉 herefore ●ow our doors are cr●st 〈◊〉 Lord have mercy on us all. We clean 〈◊〉 place from noy some smell, We strive ●o put 〈…〉, We 〈◊〉 our 〈◊〉 where we do dwell. We ●●●p our 〈◊〉 sweet and fair, The while our souls in sin are lost, Whi●●● the 〈◊〉 our doors are crossed In stead of musk and sweet perfumes We smell 〈◊〉 Wormwood and to Rue, For to ●ecure us from our ●ombes, Yet de●th will claim 〈…〉 We are dissoned like W●●te 〈…〉 When Phoebus' sunshine bea●●● 〈…〉 ●all And death we see our doors hath crossed With Lord have mercy on us all. Run through the 〈◊〉 with sighs & groans, In Golgotha sit and 〈…〉, The great destroy 〈…〉 bones, Pale death 〈…〉 like doth reign. He can destroy a mighty 〈◊〉▪ Yea crowned Kings he 〈◊〉 to fall, And by his hand our doo●●● are crossed With Lord have mercy on us all. Have mercy Lord, to thee we cry, We for our sins are grieved sore, Great God of all eternity, Our former follies we deplore. Though we through sin offend thee most, Our God thou art, and ever shall, Oh bless us though our doors be crossed With Lord have mercy on us all. FINIS.