CANAAN'S CALAMITY jerusalem's Misery, OR The doleful destruction of fair jerusalem by TYTUS, the Son of Vespasian Emperor of Rome, in the year of Christ's Incarnation 74. Wherein is showed the wonderful miseries which God brought upon that City for sin, being utterly overthrown and destroyed by Sword, pestilence and famine.  
AT LONDON, ¶ Printed for Thomas Bayly, and are to be sold at the corner-shop in the middle row in Holborn, near adjoining unto Staple Inn. 1618.   

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL M. Richard Kingsmill Esquire, justice of peace and Quorum in the County of Southampton, and surveyor of her majesties Court●s of Wards and Liveries. All prosperity and happiness.  
Having (Right worshipful) often heard of your extraordinary favour, showed in the depth of extremity, to some poor friends of mine, remaining in your pleasant Lordship of High-cleere: by means whereof, they have had no small comfort for the recovery of their wished desire: I have been studious how I might in some measure declare both their thankfulness and mine own for so great a good. But such 〈◊〉 our weak ability that we cannot requite the least point of that life prolonging kindness, which the riches of your courtesy did yield: nevertheless to make apparent, that our poor estates shall not obscure, or cloud with ingratitude, the well intending thoughts of our hearts: I have presumed to present to your worship this little book, an unfeigned token of our good affection, hoping that like the Princely Pertian you will more respect the good will then the gift, which I confess far unworthy so worthy a Patron in respect of the simple handling of so excellent a matter: But a plain style doth best become plain truth, for a trifling fable hath most need of a pleasant pen. Wherefore if it shall please your Worship to esteem of my simple labour, and to let this pass under your favourable protection, I shall have the end of my desire. And resting thus in hope of your worship's courtesy I cease wishing you all hearts content in this life, and in the world to come eternal felicity.  
Your worship's most humbly affectionate: T. D.   


Three stately walls begirt this City round,  
Strongly railed up of gallant squared stone,  
Unpossible in fight foes should them confound,  
By warlike Engines seized thereupon.  
The spacious gates most glorious to behold,  
Were all gilt over, with rich burnished gold.   

And round abo●t jerusalem likewise.  
Were pleasant walks prepared for recreation,  
Sweet dainty gardens feeding gazers eyes,  
With works of wonder and high admiration,  
Where in the midst of sweetest smelling flowers,  
They built for pleasure, many pleasant bowers.   

In treasure's store this City did excel,  
For pomp and pride it was the only place,  
In her alone did richest Merchants dwell,  
And famous Princes sprung of Royal race:  
And fairer Dames did nature never frame,  
Then in that City dwelled and thither came.    

Christ's prophesy of the destruction of this City and how it came to pass accordingly within Forty years after, showing the cause that moved the Emperor to come against it.  

Our Saviour Christ tracing the bordering hills,  
When he on this fair City cast his eye  
The tears along his roseal cheeks distills.  
Mourning for their destruction drawing nigh.  
O jerusalem jerusalem quoth he,  
My heart bewails thy great calamity.   

The time shall come and near it is at hand,  
When furious foes shall trench thee round about,  
And batter down thy Towers that stately stand,  
All thy strong holds within thee and without:  
Thy golden buildings shall they quite confound,  
And make thee equal with the lowly ground.   

O woe to them that than gives suck he says,  
And lulles their Infants on their tender knees,  
More woe to them that be with child those days,  
Wherein shallbe such extreme miseries:  
Thou mightst have shunned these plagues hadst thou been wise  
Which now for sin is hidden from thy eyes.   

This dreadful prophesy spoken by our Lord,  
The stubborn people nought at all regarded,  
Whose Adamantine hearts did still accord,  
To follow sin, whhich was with shame rewarded:  
They flouted him for telling of this story,  
And crucified inspite the Lord of glory.   

Reproachfully they fleered in his face,  
That wept for them in tender true compassion,  
They wrought his death and did him all disgrace,  
That sought their life, and wailed their desolation:  
Their hardened hearts believed not what was said,  
Until they saw the siege about them laid.   

Full forty years after Christ's passion,  
Did these proud people live in peace and rest,  
Whose wanton eyes seeing no alteration,  
Christ's words of truth, they turned to a jest:  
But when they thought themselves the surest of all,  
Lo than began their never raised fall.   

Their mounting minds that towered past their strength  
Scorning subjection to the Roman state,  
In boiling hatred loathed their Lords at length,  
Despised the Emperor with a deadly hate:  
Rejecting his authority each hour,  
Sought to expel the pride of foreign power.   

Which foul contempt the emperors wrath inflamed,  
Mighty Vespasian hot revenge did threat,  
But all in vain they would not be reclaimed,  
Relying on their strength and courage great:  
And hereupon began the deadly jar,  
And after followed bloody woeful war,    

The sign●s and tokens showed before the destruction, alluring the jews to repentance, and their little regard thereof, interpreting all things to be for the best, flattering themselves in their sins.  

YEt mark the mercy of our gracious God,  
Before the grievous scourge to them was sent,  
That they might shun his heavy smarting rod,  
And heartily their filthy faults repent:  
Strange signs and wonders did he show them still,  
Forerunners of their ruin woe, and ill.   

For one who●e year as well by day as night,  
A blazing star appeared in the sky,  
Whose bushy tail was so excelling bright,  
It dimmed the glory of the suns fair eye,  
And every one that on this object gazed,  
At sight thereof stood wondrous sore amazed.   

In right proportion it resembled well,  
A sharp two edged sword of mighty strength,  
The piercing point a needle did excel,  
And sure it seemed a mi●●cle for length:  
So strange a star before was never seen,  
And since that time the like hath never been.   

And over right that goodly famous City,  
Hung still this dreadful apparition,  
Which might have moved had they been gracious witty,  
For outward follies, inward hearts contrition:  
And never did that wonder change his place,  
But still jerusalem with woe menace.   

The wondering people never looked thereon,  
But their mistrusting heart suspected much,  
Saying great plagues would follow thereupon,  
Such privy motions did their conscience touch:  
But othersome would say it was not so,  
But sign that they their foes would overthrow.   

Think not quoth they that Jacob's God will leave,  
The blessed seed of Abraham in distress,  
First shall his Sword the heathens lives bereave,  
As by this token he doth plain express,  
His fiery sword shall shield this holy town,  
And hew in heaps the proudest Rom●ins down.   

Thus flattered they themselves in sinful sort,  
Their hearts were hard, their deepest judgements blinded  
What godly teachers did to them report,  
They soon forgot, such things they never minded:  
Their chiefest study was delight and pleasure,  
And how they might by all means gather treasure   

Men would have thought this warning had been fair,  
When God his standard 'gainst them did advance,  
His flag of justice waved in the air,  
And yet they count it, but a thing of chance:  
This bad them yield, and f●om their sins convert,  
But they would not till sorrow made them smart.   

Then in the air God showed another wonder,  
When azurd skies were brightest fair and clear,  
An host of armed men, like dreadful thunder,  
With hideous clamours, fight did appear:  
And at each other eagerly they ran,  
With burnished Falchion's murdering many a man.   

And marching fiercely in their proud array,  
Their wrathful eyes did sparkle like the fire,  
Or like enraged Lions for their prey,  
So did they strive, in nature and desire:  
That all the plain wherein they fight stood,  
Seemed to men's sight all stained with purple blood.   

This dreadful token many men amazed,  
When they beh●ld the uncouth sight so strange,  
On one another doubtfully they gazed,  
With fearful looks their colour quite did change:  
Yet all, they did interpret to the best,  
Thinking themselves above all other blest.   

The conquering sort that did with warlike hand,  
Suppress the other in the bloody field,  
Declares quoth they that Juda's sacred band,  
Shall make unhallowed romans die or yield:  
And over them we shall have honour great,  
That proudly now usurps King David's seat.   

See how the Devil doth sinful souls beguile,  
Filling the same with vain imagination,  
Thinking themselves cocksure, when all the while,  
They stand upon the brink of desolation:  
All faithful Christians warning take by this,  
Interpret not Gods fearful signs amiss.   

Yet lo the Lord would not give over so,  
But to convert them, if that it might be,  
He doth proceed more wonders yet to show,  
All to reclaim them from iniquity:  
That so he might remove his plagues away,  
Which threatened their destruction every day.   

The Temple gates all made of shining brass,  
Whose massy substance was exceeding great,  
Which they with iron bars each night did cross,  
And locked with brazen bolts, which made them sweat,  
Did of themselves start open and undo,  
Which twenty men of might could scant put to.   

Upon a day most high and festival,  
The high Priest went after a sacred manner,  
Into the glorious Temple most majestical,  
To offer sacrifice their God to honour:  
What time the Lord a wonder did declare,  
To all men's sight, prodigious, strange, and rare.   

A goodly Calf prepared for sacrifice,  
And laid upon the holy Altar there,  
Brought forth a Lamb most plain before their eyes,  
Which filled some men's hearts with sudden fear:  
And sore perplexed the passions of their mind,  
To see a thing so far against all kind.   

Soon after this they heard a wailful voice,  
Which in th● Temple shrieking thus did say,  
Let us go hence, and no man here rejoice,  
Thus figuring forth their ruin and decay,  
All men did hear these speeches very plain,  
But saw nothing, nor knew from whence it came.   

And four years space before the bloody fight,  
One Ananias had a youthful son,  
Which like a Prophet cried day and night  
About the streets as he did go and run:  
Showing the people without dread at all,  
Most woeful plagues should on the City fall.   

And in this sort began his doleful cry:  
A fearful voice proceedeth from the East,  
And from the West, as great a voice did fly,  
A voice likewise from blustering winds addressed:  
A voice upon jerusalem shall go,  
A voice upon the Temple full of woe.   

A mournful voice on wretched man and wife,  
A voice of sorrow on the people all,  
Woe and destruction, mortal war and strife,  
Bitter pinching famine, misery and thrall:  
In every place these threatenings still he had,  
Running about like one distraught and mad.   

With lofty voice thus ran he through the town,  
Nor day and night did he his clamours cease,  
No man could make him lay these threatenings down  
By no entreaty would he hold his peace:  
Although he was in Dungeon deeply laid,  
Yet there his cries did make them more afraid.   

The Magistrates that most forbade his cry:  
And saw his boldness more and more arise,  
With grievous scourges whipped him bitterly,  
Yet came no tears out of his pleasant eyes:  
The more his stripes, the higher went his voice▪  
In sorest torment did he most rejoice.   

But when the jews perceau●d how he was bend,  
And that their ears were cloyed with his cries,  
They counted it but sportful merriment,  
A nine days wonder that in short time dies:  
So that a fresh their fol●ies they begin,  
And for his speech they passed not a pin.   

But as the holy Scriptures do bewray,  
To dainty cheer they iocondly sat down,  
And well refreshed, they rose again to play,  
In smiling sort when God did fircely frown:  
And never more to mirth were they diposed,  
Then when the Lord his wrath to them disclosed.    

¶ The tidings brought of the enemies appoach, and the fear of the citizens: their provision of victuals for twenty years burnt in one night, by one of their own captains, of mere malice, which caused a sudden dearth to follow: their sedition and division between themselves while the city was besieged.  

But whilst that they their sugared junkets tasted,  
Unto the City came a tired post,  
Full weak and weary, and with travel wasted,  
Who brought them word their foes were on their coast:  
Which when they knew, their merriments were dashed  
These doleful news made them full sore abashed.   

Three Cypress Tables then to ground they throw,  
Their silver dishes, and their cups of gold,  
For haste to meet the proud invading foe,  
Fear ma●es them mad, but courage makes them bold:  
And to defend the brunt of future harms,  
They leave their Ladies and embrace their Arms.   

Instead of Lutes and sweet resounding Vials,  
They sound the Trumpet and the rattling drum,  
Their barbed Steeds they put to divers trials,  
How they can manage, stop, carry, and run:  
Their cunning harpers now must harness bear,  
Their nimble dancers warlike weapons wear,   

But ere their wrathful foes approached near,  
The storehouses the Governors did fill,  
With wholesome victuals which for twenty year  
Would serve two hundred thousand cast by bill,  
But all the same by one seditious Squire  
Was in one night consumed with flaming fire.   

For why the Citizens to discord fell,  
So giddy headed were they always found,  
And in their rage like furious fiends of hell,  
In murdering sort they did each other wound:  
And when they entered in this devilish strife,  
They spared neither Infant, man, nor wife.   

Into three parts the people were divided,  
And one against an other hatred bore,  
The chiefest sort seditiously were guided,  
Whereby uncivell mutines vexed them sore:  
So that the sorrow of the foreign war,  
Was nothing to their bloody civil jar.   

And so malicious did their rancour rise,  
That they the holy Temple did defile,  
All such as came to offer sacrifice,  
They murdered strait, remorse they did exile:  
The Sacrificer with the sacrifice,  
Both bathed in blood, men saw before their eyes.   

Thus did they make the sacred Temple there,  
The slaughter house of many a human soul,  
So that the marble pavement every where,  
was black with blood like to a butcher's bowl:  
And with the fat of men so slippery made,  
That there for falling, none could go vnstayd.   

And by this wicked means it came to pass,  
The streets and temple full of deadmen ●ay,  
With wounds putrefied, where burial was,  
Which raised a grievous pestilence that day:  
So hot, and fell, that thereof died a number,  
Whose foul infection all the town did cumber.   

And that which was more heavy to behold,  
As men and women passed along the street:  
Their weeping eyes did to their hearts unfold,  
A map of Murder at their trembling feet  
Some saw their Father's fetching deadly groans,  
Some their Husband's brains scattered on the stō●s   

Here lay a woman stabbed to the heart,  
There a tender Infant one a soldiers spear,  
Struggling with death, and sprawling with each part:  
The channels ran with purple blood each where  
A thousand persons might you daily see,  
Some gasping, groaning bleeding fresh to be.   

Lo, all this mischief was within the town  
Wrought twixt themselves in wondrous hateful sort,  
While noble Tytus beat their bulwarks down,  
And at their walls did show them warlike sport:  
But by distress to bring them unto thrall,  
He broke their pipes, and stopped their conduits all.    

¶ A description of the horrible Famine within 〈◊〉 the City of jerusalem.  

FOr true report r●●g in his royal ears,  
That bitter Famine did afflict them sore,  
Which was the cause of many bitter tears,  
And he to make their misery the more,  
Deprived them quit of all their water clear,  
Which in their want they did esteem so dear.   

Alack, what pen is able to express?  
The extreme misery of this people then?  
Which were with Famine brought to great distress,  
For cruel hunger vexed the wealthiest men:  
When night approached, well might they lie & wink,  
But cold not sleep for want of meat and drink.   

For by this time full Fourteen months and more,  
Had warlike Titus sieged that famous town,  
What time the jews had quite consumed their store,  
And being starved, like Ghosts went up and down:  
For in the markets were no victuals found,  
Though for a Lamb, ●hey might have twenty pound.   

When bread was gone, then was he counted blest,  
That in his hand had either cat or dog,  
To fill his empty maw: and thus distressed,  
A dozen men would fight for one poor frog,  
The fairest Lady lighting one a mouse,  
Would keep it from her best friend in the house.   

A weasel was accounted dainty meat,  
A hissing snake esteemed a Prince's dish,  
A Queen upon a mole might seem to eat,  
A veanom neawt was thought a wholesome fish:  
Worms from the earth, were digged up great & small,  
And poisoned spiders eaten from the wall.   

A hundred men under this grievous cross,  
With hunger-starved bodies wanting food,  
Have for a morsel of a stinking horse,  
In deadly strife, shed one an others blood.  
Like famished Ravens, that in a shoal do pitch,  
To seize a carrion in a noisome ditch.   

But when these things, were all consumed quite,  
(For famines greedy maw destroyeth all,)  
Then did they bend, their study day and night,  
To see what next unto their share might fall:  
Necessity doth seek an hundred ways,  
Famines fell torment from the heart to raise.   

Then did they take their horse's leather reigns,  
And broiling them supposed them wondrous sweet,  
A hungry stomach nought at all refrains,  
Nor did they spare their shoes upon their feet:  
But shoes, and boots, and buskins, all they eat,  
And would not spare one morsel of their meat.   

But out alas my heart doth shake to show,  
When these things failed, what shift these wretches made,  
Without salt tears how should I write their woe,  
Sith sorrows groundwork in the same is laid:  
All English hearts which Christ in arms do 'em  
Mark wel● the woes of fair jerusalem.   

When all was spent, and nothing left to eat,  
Whereby they might maintain their feeble life,  
Then doth the wife her husband dear entreat,  
To end her misery by his wounding knife:  
Maids weep for food, & children make their moan,  
Their parents sigh when they can give them none.   

Some men with hunger falleth raging mad,  
Gnawing the stones and timber where they walk,  
Some other staggering, weak and wondrous s●d,  
Dies in the streets, as with their friends they talk?  
And other some licks up the vomit fast,  
Which their sick neighbours in their houses cast.   

Nay more than this, though this be all to much,  
josephus writes, that men and maidens young  
The which of late did scorn brown-bread to touch,  
Sustained themselves with one an others dung.  
Remember this you that so dainty be,  
And praise God's name for all things sent to thee.   

All things were brought by famine out of frame,  
For modest Chastity to it gave place,  
High honoured Virgins that for very shame,  
Would hardly look on men with open face,  
One bit of beead never so course and brown,  
Would win them to the foulest knave in town.    

¶ The seditious Captains Schimion & jehocanan search all the houses in the City for Victuals, they take from a noble Lady al● her provision, ●●auing her and her Son comfortless, showing the great moan she made.  

THe cursed seditious Captains and their crew,  
When they perceived the famine grow so great,  
In all men's houses would they search, and view,  
In every corner both for bread and meat:  
If any did their bold request deny,  
On murdering swords they were right sure to die.   

Among the rest where they a searching went,  
Unto ● gallant ladies house they came,  
And there before her victuals quite was spent,  
With hardened hearts, and faces void of shame:  
They took her store with many a bitter threat,  
And left her not one bit of bread to eat.   

The noble Lady on her tender knees,  
With floods of tears distilling from her eyes,  
Their cruelty when she so plainly sees,  
In mournful sort unto them thus she cries:  
Upon a woeful Lady take some pity,  
And let not famine slay me in this City.   

Of all the store which you have took away,  
Leave on brown loaf, for my poor child and me:  
That we may eat but one bit in a day,  
To save our lives from extreme misery.  
Thus holding up her lily hands she cried,  
The more she craved the more she was denied.   

If you quoth she cannot absorp me bread,  
One dried stockfish do one me bestow,  
For my poor Infant's life I greatly dread,  
If thus distressed you leave me when you go:  
Brave men of might, show pity for his sake,  
And I thereof a thousand meals will make.   

O call to mind my child is nobly borne,  
Of honourable blood and high degree,  
Then leave us not brave Captains thus forlorn,  
Your country's friend one day this child may be:  
O let me not this gentle favour miss,  
I may one day requi●e far more than this.   

Then answered they in harsh and churlish sort,  
Tut tell not us of honourable state,  
And if thou wilt we'll cut thy Infant's throat,  
So shall he need no meat, then cease to pra●e:  
Men must have meat, let children die and s●arue,  
If we want food, in wars how can we seru●.   

With bended brows they s●roue to get away  
But she upon her knees did follow fast,  
And taking hold on their confused array,  
This sad complaint from her heart's palace past:  
Renowned Lords, our cities sure defence,  
O let me speak once more, ere you go hence.   

If you lack money, see I have good store,  
Wherein great Caesar's Image is portrayed,  
Therefore of gift, I will demand no more,  
To buy me some food, let me not be denayed.  
For five red herriugs, ten Crowns shall you have,  
I'll pay it down, with vantage if you 〈◊〉.   

That damned coin quoth they we do detest,  
And therewithal thyself, which all this while,  
Has● kept our foes foul picture in thy chest,  
Which seeks this holy City to de●i●e:  
Thou getst no food, and therefore hold thy tongue  
Hang, starve, & die, thou canst not die more young.   

O pardon yet (quoth she) my earnest speech,  
Do not my words to poison so convert,  
Take here my chain, I humbly do beseech,  
Of pearl and Diamonds for one silly sprat:  
One sprat (sweet men) cast upon the ground,  
For this fair chain, which cost a thousand pound.   

Talk not to us, quoth they of gems and chains,  
Of Diamonds, Pearls or precious rings of Gould,  
One sprat to us is sweeter gotten gains,  
Then so much silver, as this house can hold:  
Gould is but dross, where hunger is so great,  
Hard hap hath he, that hath but gold to eat.   

With that the testy Soldiers get them out,  
Proud of the purchased pray which they had got,  
The woeful Lady e did they mock and flout,  
Her plaints and tears regarding not a jot:  
She sighs they smile, she mourns, and they rejoice,  
And of their prey they make an equal choice,   

But Meager famine covetous of all,  
Envying those that should thereof have part,  
In sharing out there purchase bread a brawl,  
Wherein one s●abd the other to the heart:  
This fellow said the other did deceive him,  
He swore again enough they did not leave him.   

Lo thus about the victuals they did fight,  
Look who was strongest boar away the prize,  
And for a crust of bread, in dead of night,  
They cut their Father's throats in woeful wise:  
The mother would her children's victuals snatch,  
And from his wife, the husband he did catch.    

¶ How the noble Lady and her young S●nne went to out the dung of beasts to eat, being ready to die with hunger, and could find none: showing what moan they made coming home without,  

But now of Miriams' sorrow will I speak,  
Whom the seditious Soldiers so distressed,  
Her noble heart with girfe was like to break,  
No kind of food had she, then to relieve her,  
With gnawing hunger was she, sore oppressed  
Nor for her child: which most of all did grieve her.   

Alas quoth she that ever I was borne,  
To see these gloomy days of grief and care,  
whom this false world hath meed an open scorn,  
Fraught full of misery passing all compare:  
Blessed had I been if in the painful birth,  
I had received sweet sentence of my death.   

Why hath the partial heavens prolonged my life,  
Above a number of my dearest friends,  
Whose blessed souls did never see the strife,  
How happy were they in their happy ends:  
Great God of Abraham hear my mournful cry,  
Soon rid my life or end this misery.   

With that her little son with eager look,  
Unto his woeful mother crying came,  
His pretty hands fast hold upon her took,  
Whose presence brought, her praying out of frame:  
And to his Mother thus the child did say,  
Give me some meat, that eat nothing to day.   

I am (dear Mother) hungry at the heart,  
And scalding thirst, makes me I cannot speak,  
I feel my strength decay in every part,  
One bit of bread, for me good Mother break,  
My lesson I have learned, where you did lay it,  
Then give me some what: you shall here me say it.   

The sighing Lady looking quite aside,  
With many ●obs sent from her woeful soul,  
wrong both her hands, but not one word replied,  
Sighs stopped her tongue, tears did her tongue control,  
Sweet Lady mother, mother speak (quoth he?)  
O let me not with hunger murdered be.   

Dear child she said, what wouldst thou have of me?  
Art thou a thirst, then come and drink my tears,  
For other succour have I none for thee,  
The time hath been, I could have given thee pears:  
rose coloured apples, cherries for my child,  
But now alas, of all we are beguiled.   

But come quoth she, give me thy little finger,  
And thou and I will to the back-yard go,  
And there seek out a Cow-cake For thy dinner,  
How sayst thou son art thou contented so?  
The joyful child did hereat give a smile,  
When both his eyes with water ran the while.   

Then up and down with wary s●arching eye,  
In every place for beasts dung doth she seek,  
As if a long lost jewel there did lie,  
Clo●e hidden in some narrow chink or creak:  
When she looked and nought at all had found,  
Then down she coucheth on the sluttish ground.   

And with her fair white fingers fine and small,  
She scrapes away the dust and draff together, and so doth search through out the Ox's stall,  
For dung or hooves, or some old piece of leather:  
But when in vain her pains she did bestow,  
She paid her heart the interest of her woe.   

And lifting up with sorrow her bright eyes,  
She called her little Son to come away,  
Who sought as fast for spiders, worms and flies,  
As she for Ordure 'mongst the mouldy hay,  
O stay a while good mother did he cry,  
For here even now I did a maggot spy.   

At which sweet sight my teeth did water yet,  
Even as you called, she fell her in the dust,  
An hour were well spent, this prize to get,  
To let her slip, I think I was accursed:  
My hungry stomach, well it would have stayed,  
And I have lost her I am sore afraid.   

ay, I, my Son, it may be so (quoth she,)  
Then come away: let us together die,  
Our luckless stars allotteth it so to be,  
Peace my sweet boy, alack why dost thou cry,  
Had I found any thing, thou shouldst have seen,  
That therewithal we would have merry been,   

Then be thou still (my son) and weep no more,  
For with my tears, thou kill'st my wounded heart,  
Thy need is great, my hunger is as sore,  
Which grieves my soul, and pinches every part:  
Yet hope of help alack I know not any,  
Without, within, our foes they are so many.   

Dear mother hear me one word and no more,  
See here my foot so slender in your sight,  
Give me but leave to eat my little toe,  
No be●ter supper will I ask to night:  
Or else my thumb: a morsel small you see,  
And these two joints, me thinks may spared be.   

My son quoth she great are thy cares God wot,  
To have thy hungry stomach filled with food,  
Yet all be it we have so hard a lot,  
Dismember not thyself for any good:  
No brutish beast, will do so foul a deed,  
Then do not thou 'gainst nature so proceed,   

But O my son, what shall I do quoth she▪  
My grief of hunger is as great as thine,  
And sure no hope of comfort do I see,  
But we must yield ourselves to starve and pine:  
The wrath of God doth siege the City round,  
And we within fell famine doth confound.   

The sword without, intends our desolation,  
Consuming pestilence destroyeth here within,  
Civil dissension breeds our heart's vexation,  
The angry heavens, the same hath sent for sin,  
Murders, and ruin through our streets do run,  
Then how can I feed thee, my loving son?   

If pale faced famine take away my life,  
Why then, with whom should I trust thee my sonen  
Far here's no love, but hate and deadly strife,  
Woe is that child, whose parents days are done:  
One thee sweet boy no person would take pity,  
For mild compassion, hath forsook the city.   

Once I retained, this joyful hope of thee,  
When ripened years, brought thee to man's estate,  
That thou shouldst be a comfort unto me,  
Feeding my age, when youthful strength did bate:  
And have my meat my drink and cloth of thee,  
Fit for a Lady of so high degree.   

And when the span length, of my life was done,  
That God and nature, claimed of me their due,  
My hope was then, that thou my loving Son,  
In Marble stone, my memory should renew:  
And bring my corpses, with honour to the grave,  
The latest duty, men of children crau●,   

But now I see (my sweet and bonny boy)  
This hope is fruitless, and these thoughts are vain,  
I see grim death, hath seized my earthly joy,  
I or famine's dart hath thee already slain:  
Thy hollow eyes and wrinkled cheeks declare,  
Thou art not marked, to be thy Father's heir.   

Look on thy legs, see all thy flesh is gone,  
Thy ●ollie thighs, are fallen quite away,  
Thy a●mes and hands, nothing but skin, and bone  
How weak thy heart is, thou thyself canst say:  
I have no food, to strengthen thee (my child,)  
And here thy burial would be too too wild.   

Wherefore my Son least ugly Ravens and Crows,  
Should eat thy carcase in the stinking streets,  
Thereby to be a scorn unto our foes,  
And gall to me, that gave thee many sweets:  
I have prepaird, this my unspotted womb,  
To be for thee an honourable Tomb.   

Then sith thou canst not live to be a man,  
What time thou mightst have fed thy aged mother,  
Therefore my child it lies thee now upon,  
To be my food, because I have no other:  
With my one blood, long time I nourished thee,  
Then with thy flesh, thou oughtest to cherish me.   

Within this womb thou first receivedst breath,  
Then give thy mother, that which she gave thee,  
Here hadst thou life, then lie here after death,  
Sith thou hadst been, so welbeloude of me:  
In spite of foes, be thou my daily food,  
And save my life, that can do thee no good,   

In blessed Eden shall thy soul remain,  
While that my belly is thy bodies grave,  
There is no taste of famine woe or pain  
But joys eternal, more than heart can crave:  
Then who would wish, in sorrow to persever,  
That by his death might live in heaven for ever.    

The Lady with hunger is constrained to kill her best beloved and only Son, and eat him: whose body she Roasted.  

WHen this was said, her feeble child she took,  
And with a sword which she had lying by,  
She thrust him through turning away her look,  
That her wet eyes might not behold him die:  
And when sweet life was from his body fled,  
A thousand times she kissed him being dead.   

His mil●e white body stained with purple blood,  
She cleansed and washed with silver dropping tears,  
Which being done, she wiped it as she stood,  
With nothing else, but her fair golden hairs:  
And when she ●aw, his little limbs were cold,  
She cut him up, for hunger made her bold.   

In many pieces did she then divide him,  
Some part she sod, some other part she roasted,  
Fron neighbours sight she made great shift to hide him,  
And of her cheer, in heart she greatly boasted:  
Ere it was ready, she began to eat,  
And from the spit, plucked many bits of meat.    

The smell of the meat is felt round about: the seditious Captai●● thereupon came to the Lady, and threatens to kill her for meat. Whereupon the Lady, sets part before them.  

THe sent thereof was strait smelled round abou●,  
The neighbour then out of their houses ran,  
Saying, we smell roast-meat out of all doubt,  
Which was great wonder unto every man:  
And every one like to a longing wife,  
In that good cheer did wi●h his sharpest knife.   

This news so swift, in each man's mo●th did fly,  
The proud seditious, heard thereof at last,  
Who with all speed, unto the house did high,  
And at the doors and windows knocked fast:  
And with wild words & speeches rough and great,  
They asked the Lady, where she had that meat.   

Thou wicked woman how comes this quoth they?  
That thou alone hast roast-meat in the town?  
While we with griping famine die each day,  
Which are your Lords, and leaders of renown:  
For this contempt, we think it right and reason,  
Thou shouldst be punished as in case of treason.   

The lovely Lady trembling at their speech,  
Fearing their bloody hands and cruel actions,  
With many gentle words, did them beseech,  
They would not enter into further factions:  
But listen to her words and she would tell,  
The certain truth, how every thing befell.   

Be not she said, at your poor handmaid grieved,  
I have not eaten all in this hard case,  
But that yourselves might something be relieved,  
I have kept part to give you in this place:  
Then sit you down, right welcome shall you be,  
And what I have, yourselves shall taste and see.   

With diligence the Table than she laid,  
And silver trenchers, on the board she set,  
A golden salt, that many ounces weighed,  
And Damask napkins, dainty, fine, and neat:  
Her guests were glad to see this preparation,  
And at the board they sat with contentation,   

In massy silver platters brought she forth,  
Her own sons flesh whom she did love so dear,  
Saying my masters take this well in worth,  
I pray be merry: look for no other cheer:  
See here my child's white hand, most finely dressed,  
And here his foot, eat where it likes you best.   

And do not say this child was any others,  
But my own Son: whom you so well did know,  
Which may seem strange, unto all tender Mothers,  
My own child's flesh, I should devour so:  
Him did I bear, and carefully did feed,  
And now his flesh sustains me in my need.   

Yet albeit this sweet relieving feast,  
Hath dearest been to me that ere I made,  
Yet niggardize I do so much detest,  
I thought it shame, but there should some be laid,  
In store for you: although the store be small,  
For they are gluttons which consumeth all.   

Herewith she burst into a flood of tears,  
Which down her thin pale cheeks distilled fast,  
Her bleeding heart, no sobs nor sighs forbears,  
Till her weak voice breathed out these words at last:  
O my dear Son, my pretty boy (quoth she)  
While thou didst live, how sweet wast thou to me?   

Yet sweeter far, a thousand times thou art,  
To thy poor mother, at this instant hour,  
My hungry stomach hast thou eased of smart,  
And kept me from the bloody Tyrant's power,  
And they like friends do at my table eat,  
That would have killed me for a bit of meat.   

When this was said, wiping her watery eyes,  
Unto herself, fresh courage than she took,  
And all her guests, she welcomed in this wise,  
Casting on them, a courteous pleasant look:  
Be merry friends, I pray you do not sp●re▪  
In all this town, is not such noble fare.    

The Captains and their company were so amazed at sight of the child's limbs being by his mother set upon the table in platters, that wondering thereat, they would not eat a bite, for the which the Lady reproves them.  

THE men amazed at this uncouth sight,  
One to another cast a steadfast eye,  
Their hard remorseless hearts full fraught with spite  
Were herewithal appalled suddenly,  
And though their extreme hunger was full great,  
Like senseless men they sat and would not eat.   

O why quoth she do you refrain this food,  
I brought it forth unto you for good wil●,  
Then scorn it not (dear friends) for it is good:  
And I even now did thereof eat my fill:  
Taste it therefore and I dare swear you'll say,  
You eat no meat, more sweet this many a day.   

Hard hearted woman, cruel and unkind  
Canst thou (quoth they) so frankly feed of this?  
A thing more hateful did we never find,  
Then keep it for thy tooth, lo there it is.  
Most vild and odious is it in our eye,  
Then feed on man's flesh, rather would we die.   

Alack quoth she, doth foolish pity move ye,  
Weaker than a woman's, is your hearts become,  
I pray fall too, and if that you do love me,  
Eat where you will, and i'll with you eat some  
What greater shame to Captains can befall,  
Then I in courage should surpass you all,   

Why, wast not you, that did with many a threats,  
Charge me with eager looks to lay the cloth:  
And as I loved my li●e to bring you meat,  
And now to eat it do you seem so loath?  
Mo●e fit I should, than you, herewith be moved,  
Since 'twas his flesh whom I so dearly loved.   

It was my son and not yours that is slain.  
Whose roasted limbs lies here within the platter,  
Then more than you I ought his flesh refrain,  
And ten times more be grieved at this matter,  
How chance you are more merciful than I,  
To spare his flesh, while you for hunger die.   

Yet blame not me for this outrageous deed,  
For waste not you that first did spoil my house?  
And rob me of my food in my great need,  
Leaving not behind a rat or silly mouse:  
Then you alone are authors of this feast,  
What n●ed you then this action so detest?   

The starved jews hearing this doleful tale,  
Were at the matter smitten in such sadness,  
That man by man with visage wan and pale,  
Dropped out of doors, accusing her of madness,  
And noting we●l, their famine, war and strife,  
Wished rather death, than length of mortal life.   

And hereupon, much people of the City,  
Fled to the romans secret in the night,  
Upon their knees desiring them for pity  
To save their lives, that were in wo●ull plight,  
And finding mercy, told when that was done▪  
How famine forced a Lady eat her Son.    

Tytus the Roman General wept at the report of the famine in jerusalem▪ especially when he heard of the Mother that did eat her Child.  

THe Roman General hearing of the same,  
Tytus I mean, Vespasians famous Son,  
So grieved thereat, that grief did tears constrain,  
Which down his manly cheeks did streaming run  
And holding up to heaven his hands and eyes  
To this effect, unto the Lord he cries.   

Thou mighty God, which guides this mortal round,  
That all hearts secrets sees, and knows my heart,  
Witness thou canst, I came not to confound,  
This goodly City: or to work their smart:  
I was not author of their bloody jars,  
But offered peace, when they embraced wars.   

These eighteen months, that I with warlike force,  
Besieged their Cittiy▪ (Lord thou knowest it well,)  
My heart was full of mercy and remorse,  
And they always did stubbornly rebel:  
Therefore good Lord, with their most hateful rage,  
And wondrous deeds do not my conscience charge   

My eyes do see, my heart doth likewise pity,  
The great calamity that they are in,  
Yet Lord, except thou wilt yield me the City,  
I'll raise my power, and not behold more sin:  
For they with famine are become so wild,  
That hunger made a woman eat her child.   

When Noble Titus thus had made his moan,  
All those that from jerusalem did fly:  
He did receive to mercy every one,  
And nourished famished men at point to die:  
But cruel Schimion that seditious jew,  
And Proud jehocanan, more mischief still did brew.   

For albeit brave Tytus by his power,  
And warlike Engines, brought unto that place,  
Had laid their strong walls, flat upon the flower,  
And done their City, wonderful disgrace.  
Yet stubbornly they did resist him still,  
Such pl●ce they gave, to their seditious will.    

Tytus overthrowing the walls of jerusalem enters the City and Temple with his power burning down the silver gate thereof, which led the way to the Sanctum Sanctorun: and setteh Soldiers to keep it from further hurt.  

ABout that time with wondrous diligence,  
They raised a wall, in secret of the night,  
Which then was found their cities best defence,  
For to withstand the conquering Roma●nes might:  
which once racked the C●tty needs must yield,  
And jews give place to romans sword and shield,   

Reno●ned Tytus well perceiving this,  
To his best proved Captains, gave a charge,  
That new raised wall, the jews supposed bliss,  
Should scattered be, with breaches wide and large:  
And hereupon, the troops together met,  
And to the walls, their battering Engines set.   

The fear of this, mademany a jewish Lord,  
That joined themselves with the seditious train,  
To steal away, and all with one accord,  
At Tytus feet, sought mercy to obtain:  
Whose mild submission, he accepted then,  
And gave them honour, 'mongst his noble men.   

By this, the mellow wall was broke and s●aled,  
With fierce alarms, the holy town was entered,  
romans took courage, but the jews hearts failed,  
Thousands lost their lives, which for honour ventured:  
Schimion, jehocanan, all did fly for fear,  
jews mourned, and romans triumphed every where,   

The fair Temple, God's holy habitation,  
The world's non pareli, the heathens wonder,  
Their cities glory, their joys preservation,  
To the Roman power, must now come under:  
There many Isralites for lives defence,  
Had locked themselves, & would not come from thence   

The famous City being thus subdued,  
The romans heads, with glad-sone bay were crowned  
For blissful victory on their side ensued,  
While on the jews the world's Creator frowned:  
The Captains of the foul seditious rout,  
To hide their heads did seek odd corners out,   

The R●maines resting in triumphant state,  
Unto the holy Temple turned their course,  
And finding shutthe silver shining gate,  
They fired it, retaining no remorse:  
And when the fires flamed did sore abound,  
The melting silver streamed along the ground.   

Their timber work into pale ashes turning,  
Down dropped the goodly gate upon the flower,  
What time the wrathful romans went in running,  
Shouting and crying with a mighty power:  
The glory of which place, their bright sight drew,  
To take thereof a wondering greedy view.   

Yet did that place but only lead the way,  
Unto the holiest place, where once a year,  
The high Priest went, unto the Lord to pray,  
The figure of whose glory, did there appear:  
Sanctum Sanctorum so that place was called,  
Which Tytus wondering mind the most appalled.   

Which holy holiest place, when Tytus saw,  
Having a view but of the outward part,  
So glorious was it that the sight did draw,  
A wondrous reverence in his soul and heart:  
And with all meekness on his Princely knees,  
He honours there the Majesty he sees.   

This place was closed in with golden gates,  
So beautiful and super excellent,  
That Princely Tytus and the Roman states,  
Said sure this is God's house omnipotent:  
And therefore Tytus who did love and fear it,  
Commanded straightly, no man should come near it.   

And through his Camp he made a proclamation,  
That whosoever did come near the same,  
He should be hanged up, without compassion,  
Without respect of birth, desert, or fame:  
And more, a band of men he there ordained,  
To keep the Temple not to be profaned.    

The seditious set upon the Roman guard that kept the Temple, and suddenly slew them: whereupon the Roman soldiers set fire on the golden gate of Sanctum Sanctorum and spoiled the holy place with fire. Titus sought to quench it but could not, for which he made great lamentation.  

WHile quiet thus the Roman prince did lie,  
Without mistrust of any bloody broil,  
Proclaiming pardon, life and liberty,  
To every yielding ●●ule, in that fair soil:  
A crew of ●rayt●rous jews, of base condition,  
Assailed the Roman guard, without suspicion.   

All Tytus gallant Soldiers which he set,  
So carefully, the Temple gates to keep,  
Upon a sudden, they against them get,  
In dead of night, when most were ●alne a sleep:  
And there without all stay, or further words,  
Each man they murdered on their drawn sword.   

Not one escaped their bloody butchering hands,  
Which noble Tytus hea●ing, grieved sore,  
And thereon raised, his best prepared bands,  
Slaying those jews, and many hundreds more.  
And with such fury, he pursued them still,  
That who escaped, fled up to Syon ●ill,   

But yet the romans full of hot revenge,  
For this wild deed, by wicked jews committed,  
Trooped to the Temple, with a mighty swinge:  
And having all things for their purpose fitted:  
Did in their rage, set on fires flame,  
Those goodly golden gates, of greatest fame.   

And as the flaming fire gathered strength,  
Great spoil was practised by the Roman rout,  
The melting gold that streamed down at length,  
Did gild the marble pavement round about:  
The gates thus burned with a hideous din,  
Sa●ctum Sanctorum Romans' entered in.   

Who having hereby won their heart's desire,  
With mighty shoots they showed signs of joy,  
While the holy place burnt with flaming fire,  
Which did, earths heavenly paradise destroy:  
This woeful sight when Tytus once did see,  
He sought to quench it: but it would not be.   

For many wicked hands had busy been,  
To work that holy house all foul disgraces,  
Which Tytus would have ●au'd as well was seen,  
But it was fired in so many places:  
That by no means the spoil he could prevent,  
Which thing he did most grievously lament.   

He ran about and cried with might and main●,  
O stay your hands, and save this house I charge ye,  
Fetch water up, and quench this fire again,  
Or you sha●l smart, before I do enlarge ye,  
Thus some he threatened, many he entreated:  
Till he was hoarse, with that he had repeated.   

But when his voice was gone with crying out,  
He drew his sword, and slew the disobedient,  
Till faint and weary, running round about,  
He sat him down, as it was expedient:  
And there twixt wrath and sorrow he bewailed,  
With froward Soldiers, he no more prevailed.   

The Priests & jews that erst themselves had hidden  
Within the compass of that holy ground,  
Against the romans fought: and had abidden,  
For to defend it many a bleeding wound:  
But when they saw, there was no way to fly,  
They leapt into the fire, and there did die.   

So long they fought, until the parching fire,  
Did burn the clothes, from their sweeting backs,  
The more they fought, the more was their desire,  
For to revenge the Temples woeful wracks:  
They laid about, as long as they could stand;  
Or move a leg, or lift a feeble hand.   

And all this while did noble Tytus mourn,  
To see Sanctorum spoiled in such sort,  
Laid on the ground, there did he toss and turn:  
And smote at such as did to him report,  
The woeful ruin of that holy place,  
And from his sight, with frowns he did them chase    

Titus with great reverence, entered into the Sanctu● Sanctorum, and greatly wondered as the beauty thereof, affirming it to be the house of the God of heaven.  

THe cruel fire having wrought her worst,  
When that at length the fury thereof ceased,  
Titus arose, all open and untrust,  
Of many tears unburdned and released:  
With head uncovered, mild and reverently,  
Into Sanctorum humbly entered he.   

And seeing the glory and magnificence,  
The wondrous beauty of that sacred place,  
Which there appeared, for all the v●hemence,  
The flaming fire made, so long a space:  
Tytus did stand amazed at the sight,  
When he considered every thing a right.   

And thereupon into this speech he broke,  
How came I in this Paradise of pleasure,  
This Place Celestial, may all souls Provoke,  
To scorn the world, and seek no other treasure:  
Do I from earth ascend by elevation?  
Or see I heaven by divine revelation?   

Undoubtedly the mighty God dwolt here,  
This was no mor●al● creatures habitation,  
For earthly monarch, it was all to dee●e,  
Fit for none, but h●m who is our soul's salvation:  
O earthly heaven or heavenly Sa●ntes receiver,  
Thy sweet remembrance shall I keep for ever.   

Now well I wot, no marvel 'twas indeed,  
The jews so stoutly stood in fence of this:  
O who could blame them, when they did proceed,  
By all devices to preserve their bliss:  
Since first I saw the Sun, I never knew,  
What heavens joy meant, till I this place did view.   

Nor did the Gentiles, without special cause,  
From farthest parts both of the East and West,  
Send heaps of gold by strait command of laws,  
This sacred place with glory to invest:  
For rich and wondrous is this holy seat,  
And in man's eye the Majesty is great.   

Far doth it pass the Roman Temples all,  
Yea all the Temples of the world likewise,  
They seem to this like to an Ass' stall,  
Or like a sty where swine still grunting lies:  
Great God of heaven, God of this glorious place,  
Plague thou their souls that did thy house deface '   

Tytus, thus wearied, gazing up and down,  
Yet not satisfied, with the Temples sight,  
Departed thence, to ●odge within the town:  
Things out of frame, to set in order right,  
Where while he stayed the stubborn hearted jews,  
Did there most wicked actions daily use.   

For when they saw that fire had so spoiled,  
Sanctum Sanctorum in such piteous sort,  
Their divillish hearts that still with mischief broiled,  
The treasure houses all, they burned in sport,  
And precious jewels wheresoever they stood.  
With all things else that should do Romans' good.   

The rest of the Temple, likewise did they burn,  
In desperàt manner, without all regard:  
Which being wrought, away they did return,  
But many scaped not, without just reward▪  
The Roman Soldiers, quickly quenched the fire,  
And in the Temple wrought their hearts desire.   

Where they set up, their heathen Idols all,  
Their senseless Images, of wood and stone,  
And at their feet, all prostrate did they fall,  
Their offering sacrifice to them alone:  
In plain derision of the conquered sort,  
Of whom the romans made a mocking sport,    

A false Prophet arose among the jews, telling them that the Temple should again be builded by itself, with out the help of man's hand, willing therefore to destroy the romans: which they going about to do, brought further sorrow upon themselves.  

A False and lying Prophet then arose,  
Among the jews, at fair jerusalem,  
Which then an absurd fancy did disclose,  
Among them all, who thus encouraged them:  
Most valiant jews play you the men and fight,  
And God will show a wonder in your sight.   

Against the cursed romans turn again,  
And beat the boasting heathen to the ground,  
For God will show unto your sights most plain,  
His mighty power: if you do them confound,  
The Temple by itself shall builded be,  
Without man's hand or help, most gloriously.   

That Jacob's God, thereby may show his power,  
To those proud romans: which do glory so,  
In there one strength: triumphing every hour,  
In this our spoil, and woeful overthrow:  
Then fight O jews, the temple sanz delay,  
Shall by itself be builded up this day.   

The wild seditious believing this lie.  
Did set a fresh upon the Roman band,  
In such fierce sort, that many men did die,  
But yet the romans got the upper hand:  
Who in new wakened wrath, that late did sleep  
Slew down the jews like to a sort of sheep.    

Schimion and jehocanan come to seek peace with Tytus, but refuse to be in sub●ection to the romans: whereupon Tytus will show them no favour, but presently assailed them with his power, whereupon Schimion and I●hocanans followers by some, and some forsake them, leaving them in distress: who thereupon hid themselves in Caves.  

THen came false Schimion and jehocanan,  
Chief Captains, to the seditious train,  
With many followers, weapned every man,  
Requiring peace, if peace they could obtain:  
To whom Prince Tytus with his chiefest state,  
Did thus reply you seek this thing to late.   

How comes it now that ye entreat for life.  
After so many mischiefs by you wrought,  
When you have slain and murdered man and wife,  
And thousand thousands to destruction brought:  
Who then as faint as ever he could stand,  
Came to submit himself, to Tytus hand.   

How oft have I entreated you to peace,  
And offered mercy, without all desert,  
When you refusing it, did still increase,  
Your traitorous dealings, your chiefest smart:  
It pitt●ed me to see your woeful case,  
With your innumerable men dead in each place.   

How can I pardon these outrageous acts,  
Your many murders and ●alse sedition,  
With divers other abominable facts,  
For which I see in you, no hearts contrition:  
You seek for peace, yet armed do you stand,  
You crave for pardon, with your swords in hand.   

First lay a side your swords and weapons all,  
And in submissive manner ask for grace,  
So shall you see what favour may befall,  
Perhaps I may take pity on your case:  
And graciously withal your faults suspense,  
And give you pardon, ere you go from hence.   

With bended brows proud Schimion then did look,  
On gentle Tytus: jehocanan likewise,  
In scornful manner all his speeches took,  
And both of them disdainfully replies:  
By heavens great God, we both have sworn quoth they  
To make no servile peace with thee this day.   

For never shall earth's misery provoke,  
Our undaunted hearts to stoop unto thy will,  
Orbend our necks unto the Roman yoke,  
While vital breath our inward parts doth fill:  
Then unto us this favour do express,  
To let us part and live in wilderness.   

At this contempt was Tytus greatly moved,  
And doth your pride continue yet quoth he?  
Will not your impudence be yet reproved?  
Nor yet your stubborn hearts yet humbeld be?  
And dare you say that you will swear and vow,  
That to the Roman yoke you will not bow,   

At this his wrath was wondrous sore inflamed,  
Who hereupon gave strait commandment,  
By strength of sword to have those rebels tamed,  
On whom the romans set incontinent:  
Who chased the jews and scattered them so sore,  
That they were found to gather head no more.   

For secretly the jews from Schimion fled,  
By some and some they all forsook him quite,  
With false jehocanan which so misled,  
And for●● them 'gainst themselves to murderous fight:  
Who leaving them, to noble Tytus came,  
Desiring grace, who granted them the same.   

jehocanan and Schimion seeing this,  
They were forsaken, and left post alone,  
In their distress lamented their amiss,  
Close hid in caves, they lay and made their moan:  
Where they remained perplexed with famine great,  
Till they were ready, their own flesh to eat.    

jehocanan enforced by hunger comes out of his cave & submits himself to Tytus, who caused him to be hanged.  

AT length out of a deep dark hollow cave,  
With bitter hunger jehocanan was driven,  
Like to a Ghost new risen from his grave,  
Or like Anatomy of all flesh beryven:  
Who then as faint as ever he could stand,  
Came to submit himself, to Tytus hand.   

Into this Princely presence when he came,  
With all submission fell he at his feet,  
Saying, O King of most renowned f●me,  
Here am I come as it is right and meet:  
To yield myself into thy Princely hand,  
Whose life doth rest, upon thy great command,   

My disobedience, do I sore repent,  
That ever I, refused thy offered grace,  
Bewailing my ●ewd life, so badly bend,  
And my foul actions, 'gainst this holy place:  
Yet with thy mercy shadow my amiss,  
And let me taste what thy compassion is,   

Not from myself, did all my sin proceed,  
Though I confess, my faults were too too many,  
But was provoked to many a bloody deed,  
By him that yet was never good to any:  
Bloodthirsty Schimeon, led me to all en●ll,  
Who doth in malice, far exceed the Devil.   

Too long alas, he over-ruld my will,  
And made me actor, of a thousand woes,  
What I refused his outrage did fulfil,  
And his devise, did make my friends my foes:  
Then worthy Victor, mitigate my blame,  
And let thy glory, overspread my shame.   

No more quoth Tytus, stay thy traitorous tongue,  
Infect us not with thy empoisoned breath,  
I'll do thee right that hast done many wrong,  
Thy end of sorrow, shall begin thy death:  
And by thy death, shall life arise to such,  
To whom thou thoughtst, a minute's life too much.   

With that he willed his Captains take him thence,  
When he with iron chains was ●ettered fast,  
And afterward (meet meed for his offence)  
Through all the Camp they ●ed him at the last,  
That he of them, might mocked and scorned be,  
And then in chains they hanged him one a tree.   

This was the end of proud jehocanan,  
That in jerusalem did such harm,  
And this likewise was that accursed man,  
That in his malice with a fierce alarm▪  
burnt all the Victuals laid in by the Peers,  
That was enough to serve them twenty years.   

Which was the cause, that in so short a space,  
So great a famine fell within the town;  
Yea this was he burnt, King agrippa's place,  
And in the temple slew so many down:  
But not long after he was gone and dead,  
Out of his den did Schimion show his head.    

SCHIMION in like sort being driven with hunger out of his den, appareling himself in princely attire, desired to be brought before ●itus, supposing he would have saved his life: but he commanded his head to be stricken off, and his body to be cut in pieces and cast to the dogs.  

WHo staring up and down with fearful looks,  
Lest any one were nigh to apprehend him,  
Like to a Panther doubting hidden hooks,  
That any way might lie for to offend him:  
Driven out with famine, hungry at the heart,  
He sought for succour of his earned smart.   

And having dressed himself in Kingly tire,  
In richest manner that he could devise,  
That men at him might wonder: and desire,  
To know what Monarch did from earth arise,  
far off he walked as it were in boast,  
And showed himself unto the Roman host.   

For his great heart could not abide to yield,  
Though gnawing hunger vexed his very sou●e:  
Thus faintly walked he up and down the field  
With lofty thoughts: with famine did control,  
Supposing firmly, though he lived in 〈◊〉  
He should find favour, for his high estate:   

For though (quoth he) I did the romans wrong,  
Yet in my deeds, I showed Princely courage,  
Bearing a heart, that did to honour throng,  
And there upon their Camp so oft did forage,  
To haughty acts all Prince's honour owes,  
For they must think that war hath made us foes.   

Considering this, Prince Tytus may be proud,  
To such an enemy he may favour show,  
And herein may his action be allowed,  
That magnanimity he will nourish so:  
And by his mercy make a friend of him,  
That in his wars so great a foe hath been.   

Which in this honour, he himself did flatter,  
Of him the romans, had a perfect sight,  
And round about him, they themselves did scatter,  
Yet were afraid, to come within his might:  
And that they feared this was the only reason,  
They knew his craft, and doubted hidden treason.   

But Schimion seeing, that they shunned him so,  
He called unto them in courageous wise,  
Majestically walking to and fro,  
And in this sort, his speech to them applieth▪  
If any gallant Captain with you be,  
L●t him approach, and talk one word with me.   

With that stepped out a brave courageous Knight,  
With weapons well provided every way,  
A noble Roman of great strength and might,  
Who with his weapon drawn these words did say  
Tell me, who art thou that in such attire,  
Walks in this place, and what is thy desire?   

I am (quoth he) undaunted Schimeon,  
The wrathful Captain of seditious jews,  
That slew the romans, in their greatest throng,  
The deed whereof I come not to excuse:  
Nor do I pass what you can say thereto,  
I am the man made you so much a do.   

Yet let me thus much favour crave of thee,  
As to conduct me to great Tytus sight,  
Thy noble friend: but enemy to m●,  
Yet doubt I not, but he will do me right:  
Bring me to him, what chance so ere I find,  
That he may hear, and I may show my mind.   

The Roman Captain his request fulfilled,  
To Tytus royal presence was he brought,  
Whose hateful person, when the Prince beheld,  
He did refuse to hear him speak in aught,  
Away with him he said, let ●im be bound,  
For of all woe this villain was the ground.   

And like a Captive first let him be led,  
About the Camp to suffer scoffs and scorns,  
And after that strike of his hateful head,  
The mansion house of mischiefs pricking thorns:  
And let his carcase be in pieces torn,  
And every gobbet unto dogs be thrown.   

What Titus charged was put in execution,  
And in this sort was Schimio●s hateful end,  
Who went to death with wondrous resolution,  
Not like a man, but like an hellish fiend:  
Thus Titus conquered that most precious gem,  
The beauteous City fair jerusalem.    

The number of those that had been slain at the siege of jerusalem, and the number of the Prisoners that Titus carried with him to Rome.  

THE perfect number of the people there,  
The which with hunger & with sword was slain  
A leaven hundred thousand did appear,  
As books of records did declare it plain:  
Beside all such as did unburied lie,  
And divers more that did in fire die.   

And when to Rome the Conqueror went his way,  
The number of his prisoners were full great,  
Full sixteen thousand men that instant day,  
Were carried captive to the Roman seat:  
Among the rest the man that wrote this story,  
Who by his wisdom purchased endless glory.   

Thus Christ's prophesy truly came to pass,  
Which Forty years before he had expressed,  
But with the jews of small account it was,  
Till they did find themselves so sore distressed:  
He sought their life, his death they wrought with spite.  
Wishing his blood on them and theirs to light.   

The which according to their own request,  
The Lord in wrath did perfectly fulfil,  
There channels ran with blood and did not rest,  
Their blood was spilled, that jesus blood did spill:  
God grant we may our hateful sins forsake,  
And by the jews a Christian warning take.   
FINIS.