A Rod for Runaways. God's Tokens, Of his fearful judgements, sundry ways pronounced upon this City, and on several persons, both flying from it, and staying in it. Expressed in many dreadful Examples of sudden Death, fall'n upon both young and old, within this City, and the Suburbs, in the Fields, and open Streets, to the terror of all those who live, and to the warning of those who are to dye, to be ready when God Almighty shall be pleased to call them. By THO. D.  
Lord, have mercy on London.  
〈…〉 London for john Trundle and are to be sold 〈…〉   

TO THE NOBLE Gentleman, Mr. Thomas Gilham, CHIRURGIAN.  
SIR,  
IN this Universal sickness, give me leave (in a few Leaves) to salute your Health, and I am glad I can do so. To whom, in an Epidemial confusion of Wounds, should a man fly, but to Physic and Chirurgery? In both which you have skill. In the last, the World crownes your Fame (as being a great Master.) Many of your excellent Pieces have been (and are to be) seen in this City. No Painter can show the like, no Limner come near such curious Workmanship. What you set out, is truly to the life; theirs but counterfeit. I honour your Name, your Art, your Practice, your profound Experience: And, to testify I do so, let this poor Monument of my love be looked upon, and you shall find it. The Sender being sorry, it is not worth your acceptation: But if you think otherwise, he shall be glad,  
And ever rest, at your service, THO. Dekker.   

To the Reader.  
REader, how far soever thou art, thou mayst here see (as through a Perspective-glasse) the miserable estate of London, in this heavy time of contagion. It is a picture not drawn to the life, but to the death of above twelve thousand, in less than six weeks. If thou art in the Country, cast thine eye towards us here at home, and behold what we endure. If (as thou canst not choose) thou art glad thou art out of this Tempest, have a care to man thy Ship well, and do not over-lade it with bad merchandise (foul Sins) when thou art bound for this place: for all the danger will be at thy putting in. The Rocks of insection lie hid in our deep Seas, and therefore it behoves thy soul to take heed what sails she hoyses, and thy body, what Pilot it carries aboard. We do not think, but numbers of you wish yourselves here again: for your entertainment a far off cannot be courteous, when even not two miles from us, there is nothing but churlishness. But it is to be feared, some of you will get such falls in the Corne-Fields of the Country, that you will hardly be able (without halting) to walk up and down London. But take good hearts, and keep good legs under you, and be sure, you have hung strong Pad-lo●…es vpo●… your doors; for in many Streets, there are none to guard your goods, but the Houses themselves. If one Shop be open, sixteen in a row stand shut up together, and those that are open, were as good to be shut; for they take no Money.  
None thrive but Apothecaries, Butchers, Cooks, and Coffin-makers. Coachmen ride a cockhorse, and are so full of jadish tricks, that you cannot be jolted six miles from London, under thirty or forty shillings. Never was Hackney-flesh so dear. Few woollen Drapers sell any Cloth, but every Churchyard is every day full of linen Drapers: and the Earth is the great Warehouse, which is piled up with winding-sheets. To see a Rapier or Feather worn in London now, is as strange, as to meet a Low-countries Soldier with Money in his Purse: The walks in Paul's are empty: the walks in London too wide, (here's no lustling;) but the best is, Cheapside is a come fortable Garden, where all Phisicke-Herbes grow. We wish that you (the Runaways) would suffer the Marketfolks to come to us, (or that they had hearts to come) for the Statute of forestalling is sued upon you. We have lost your companies, and not content with that, you rob us of our victuals: but when you come back, keep open house (to let in air) and set good cheer on your Tables, that we may bid you welcome.  
Yours, T. D.   

God's Tokens, Of His fearful judgements.  
WE are now in a set Battle; the Field is Great Britain, the Vanguard (which first stands the brunt of the Fight) is London: the Shires, Counties and Countries round about, are in danger to be pressed, & to come up in the Rear: the King of Heaven and Earth is the General of the Army; revenging Angels, his Officers; his Indignation, the Trumpet summoning and sounding the Alarm; our innumerable sins, his enemies; and our Nation, the Legions which he threatens to smite with Correction.  
Sin then being the quarrel and ground of this war, 
Sin, the cause of the Plague.  there is no standing against so invincible a Monarch (as God is) no defending a matter so foul, as our sins are.  
Would you know how many Nations (for sin) have been rooted up, and swept from the face of the earth, that 
All Nations upon earth punished for sin.  no memory of them is left but their name, no glories of their Kings or great Cities remaining but only this, Here they lived, Here they stood? Read the Scriptures, and every Book is full of such Histories, every Prophet sings songs of such lamentable desolations.  
For, jehovah, when he is angry, holds three Whips in 
God's three whips.  his hand, and never draws blood with them, but when our Faults are heavy, our Crimes heinous: and those three Whips are, the Sword, Pestilence and Famine.  
What Country for sin hath not smarted under these? jerusalem felt them all. Let us not travel so far as jerusalem, but come home, look upon Christendom, and behold Hungaria made desolate by sword and fire, Poland beaten down by battles, Russia by bloody invasions: 
Hungary. Poland. Russia.  the Turk and Tartar have here their insolent triumphs.  
Look upon Denmark, Sweden, and those Eastern Countries: How often hath the voice of the Drum called 
Denmark. Sweden. Norway, etc.  them up? Even now, at this hour, the Marches are there beating. How hath the Sword mowed down the goodly Fields of Italy? What Massacres hath in our memory been in France? Oh Germany! what foundations 
It●…y.  of blood have thy Cities been drowned in? what horrors, 
France. The miseries of ●…ermany.  what terrors, what hellish inventions have not war found out to destroy thy buildings, demolish thy Free States, and utterly to confound thy 17. Provinces? God's three whips have printed deep marks on thy shoulders; the Sword for many years together hath cut thy people in pieces; Famine hath been wearied with eating up thy children, and is not yet satisfied; the Pestitence hath in many of thy Towns, in many of thy Sieges and Leaguers; played the terrible Tyrant. In all these thy miseries, the 
〈…〉 for them.  Spaniard hath had his triumphs; his Firebrands have been flung about to kindle and feed all thy burnings; his furies have for almost four score years stood, and still stand beating at the Anuils', and forging Thunderbolts to batter thee, and all thy neighbouring Kingdoms in pieces.  
Whilst these dreadful Earthquakes have shaken all 
England's security.  Countries round about us, we have felt nothing: England hath stood and given aim, when Arrows were shot into all our bosoms. But (alas!) hath this Happiness fall'n upon her because of her goodness? Is she better than others, because of her purity and innocence? Is she not as ugly as others? Yes, yes, the Sword is how 
God's three whips ready to scourge England.  whetting; Dearth and Famine threaten our Corne-fields, and the raving Pestilence in every part of our Kingdom is digging up Graves. The three Rods of Vengeance are now held over us.  
And shall I tell you why these Fears are come amongst us? Look upon the Weapon which hath struck other Nations; and the same Arm that wounded them, smites now at us, and for the same quarrel (Sinne.) 
Sin, the offence.   
The Gospel (and God's Heralds, Preachers) have a long time cried out against our iniquities, but we are deaf, sleepy and sluggish; and now there is a Thunder speaks from Heaven to wake us.  
We flatter ourselves, that the Pestilence serves but as a Broom, to sweep Kingdoms of people, when they 
It is not the numerous multitude of people causeth the Plague.  grow rank and too full: when the Trees of Cities are over-laden, then only the Plague is sent to shake the Boughs, and for no cause else: As in Turkey and Barbary; where when a mortality happens, they fall sometimes ten thousand in a day by the Pestilence. But we that are Christians, and deal in the merchandise of our souls, have other books of account to turn over, then to reckon that we die in great numbers, only because we are so populous, that we are ready (as the Fishes of the Sea) to eat up one another.  
Our eyes have been witnesses, that for two whole Reigns together of two most excellent Princes, & now at the beginning of a third (as excellent as they) we have lived in all fullness: yet at the end of Queen Elizabeth's four and forty years, when she died, she went not alone, but had in a train which followed her, in a dead 
The number that died When Queen Elizabeth died.  march of a twelvemonth long, only within London and the Liberties, the numbers of 38244. those, who then died of the Plague, being 35578. the greatest total in one week being 3385. of all diseases, and of the Plague 3035.  
Thus she went attended from her earthly Kingdom, to a more glorious one in Heaven, it being held fit in the upper-house of the Celestial Parliament, that so great a Princess should have an Army of her subjects with her, agreeing to such a Majesty. But what numbers God will muster up to follow our Peacemaker (King james of blessed memory) none knows: by the beginning of this Pressed which Death makes amongst the people, it is to be feared, they shall be a greater multitude.  
To Queen Elizabeth and to King james; we were an unthankful and murmuring Nation, and therefore God took them from us; they were too good for us; we too bad for them and were therefore then, at the decease of the one, and now, of the other, are deservedly punished: our sins increasing with our years, and like the Bells, never lying still. 
Sins like the Bells, never lie still. The Plague dreadful for three causes.   
We are punished with a Sickness, which is dreadful three manner of ways: In the general spreading; in the quickness of the stroke; and in the terror which waits upon it. It is general: for the spotted wings of it cover all the face of the Kingdom. It is quick: for it kills suddenly; it is full of terror, for the Father dares not come near the infected Son, nor the Son come to take a blessing from the Father, lest he be poisoned by it: the Mother abhors to kiss her own Children, or to touch the sides of her own Husband: no friend in this battle will relieve his wounded friend, no Brother shake his brother by the hand at a farewell.  
This is something, yet this is nothing: many Physicians of our souls fly the City, and their sick Patients want those heavenly medicines which they e'er tied to give them, & those that stay by it, stand aloof.  
The rich man, when he is dead, is followed by a 
How the rich are buried.  troop of Neighbours: a troop of Neighbours, not a troop of Mourners. But the poor man is hurried to 
How the poor ●….  his Grave by nasty and slovenly Bearers, in the night, without followers, without friends, without rites of burial due to our Church, due to our Religion, to our Nation, to the Majesty of our Kingdom; nay, to the decency of a Christian. O lamentable! more honour is given to a poor Soldier dying in the field, more regard to many a Felon, after he is cut down from the Gallows.  
I need not write this to you, my fellow Sufferers in London; for you know this to be too true, you behold this, you bewail this. But I send this news to you, 
News for Runaways.  the great Masters of Riches, who have for saken your Habitations, left your disconsolate Mother (the City) in the midst of her sorrows, in the height of her distress, in the heaviness of her lamentations. To you that are merry in your Country houses, and fit safe (as you think) from the Gun-shot of this Contagion, in your Orchards and pleasant Gardens; into your hands do I deliver this sad Discourse, to put you in mind of our miseries, whom you have left behind you. To you that are fled, and to you to whom they fly, let me tell thus much, That there were never so many burials, yet never such little weeping. A tear is scarce to be taken of from the cheek of a whole Family (nay, of a 
Much wailing, ●…ttle weeping.  whole Parish:) for they that should shed them, are so accustomed, and so hardened to dismal accidents, that weeping is almost grown out of fashion. Why, says a Mother, do I shower tears down for my Husband or Child, when I, before to morrow morning, shall go to them, and never have occasion to weep any more?  
Whilst I am setting these things down, word is 
Thursday the ●…1. of july.  brought me, that this week have departed 3000. souls (within 200.) and that the Plague is much increased. O dismal tidings! O uncomfortable Relation! Three thousand men would do good service in descending a City: but when in every week so many thousands and more shall drop down of our great Armies, what poor handfuls will be left?  
To see three thousand men together in Armour in a 
Coffins and corslcts.  field; is a goodly sight: but if we should behold three thousand Coffins piled (in heaps) one upon another, or three thousand Courses in winding sheets, laid in some open place, one on the top of each other, what a sight were this? Whose heart would not throb with horror at such a frightful object? What soul, but would wish to be out of her body, rather than to dwell one day in such a Charnel house?  
O London! (thou Mother of my life, Nurse of my being) a hard-hearted son might I be counted, if here I should not dissolve all into tears, to hear thee pouring forth thy passionate condolements. Thy Rampires and warlike provision might haply keep out an Enemy: but no Gares, none of thy Percullises; no, nor all thy Inhabitants can beat back the miseries which 
No gates keep out Thunder.  come rushing in upon thee. Who can choose but break his heart with sigh, to see thee (O London) the Grandam of Cities, sit mourning in thy Widowhood? Thy rich Children are run away from thee, 
The rich fly. the poor dye.  and thy poor ones are left in sorrow, in sickness, in penury, in unpitied disconsolations.  
The most populous City of Great Britain is almost 
London grows leaves. The Country too f●….  desolate; and the Country repines to have a Harvest before her due season, of Men, Women, and Children, who fill their Houses, Stables, Fields and Barnes, with their enforced and unwelcommed multitudes. Yet still 
Both sick of 〈◊〉 disease.  they fly from hence, and still are they more and more feared and abhorred in the Country.  
How many goodly streets, full of beautiful and costly houses, have now few people or none at all (sometimes) walking in the one, and not so much as any living rational creature abiding in the other? Infection hath shut up, from the beginning of june, to the middle of july, almost (or rather altogether) four thousand 
Four thousand doors shut up. Four thousand cro●…es set 〈◊〉.  doors. Four thousand Red-Crosses have frighted the Inhabitants in a very little time: but greater is their number who have been frighted, and fled out of the City at the setting up of those Crosses.  
For every thousand dead here, five times as many are 
Now to the Runaways.  gotten hence: with them must I have about; to them only do I now bend my Discourse.  

To the Runaways from London.  
WE are warranted by holy Scriptures to fly from Persecution, from the Plague, and 
We may fly: and, we may not fly.  from the Sword that pursues us: but you fly to save yourselves, and in that flight undo others.  
In God's Name fly, if you fly like Soldiers, not to discomfort the whole Army, but to retire, thereby to cut off the Enemy, which is, Famine, amongst the poor (your fellow Soldiers) and discomfort amongst your brethren and fellow-Citizens, who in the plain field are left to abide the brunt of the day.  
Fly, so you leave behind you your Armour for others to wear (some pieces of your Money for others to spend) for others to defend themselves by.  
Live not (as Captains do in the Low-Countries) 
Londoners must not live upon dead pay.  upon dead pay; you live by dead pay, if you suffer the poor to dye, for want of that means which you had wont to give them, for Christ jesus sake, putting the Money up into your fugitive purses.  
How shall the lame, and blind, and half starved be 
The poor perish.  fed? They had wont to come to your Gates: Alas! they are barred against them: to your doors, (woe unto misery!) you have left no Key behind you to open them; These must perish.  
Where shall the wretched prisoners have their Baskets 
The Prisoners pine:  filled every night and morning with your broken meat? These must pine and perish.  
The distressed in Ludgate, the miserable souls in the Holes of the two Counters, the afflicted in the Marshallseas, the Cryers-out for Bread in the King's Bench, and White Lion, how shall these be sustained? These must languish and dye. You are fled that are to feed them, 
And (Runaways) all in long of you.  and if they famish, their complaints will fly up to heaven, and be exhibited in the open Court of God and Angels, against you. For, you be but God's Almoners; and if you ride away, not giving that silver to the needy, which the King of Heaven and Earth puts into your hands to bestow as he enjoins you, you rob the poor, and their curse falls heavy where it once lights. This is not good, it is not charitable, it is not Christianlike.  
In London, when Citizens (being chosen to be Aldermen) will not hold, they pay Fines; why are they not fined now, when such numbers will not hold, but give them the slip every day?  
It were a worthy act in the Lord Maior, and honourable Magistrates in this City, if, as in the Towns to which our Merchants, and rich Tradesmen fly, the Countrypeople stand there, with Halberds and Pitchforkes to keep them out; so, our Constables & Officers, 
A new policy, good for the City.  might stand with Bills to keep the rich in their own houses (when they offer to go away) until they leave such a charitable piece of Money behind them, towards the maintenance of the poor, which else must perish in their absence. They that depart hence, would then (no doubt) prosper the better; they that stay, fare the better, and the general City (nay the universal Kingdom) prosper in blessings from Heaven, the better.  
To forsake London, as one worthy Citizen did, were noble; it would deserve a Crown of commendations: for he, being determined to retire into the Country, sent for some of the better sort of his Neighbours, asked 
A Phoenix in London.  their good wills to leave them, and because (the poison of Pestilence so hotly reigning) he knew not whether they and he should ever meet again, he therefore delivered to their hands, in trust, (as faithful Stewards) fourscore pounds to be distributed amongst the poor. I could name the Gentleman, and the Parish, but his charity loves no Trumpet. Was not this a rare example? but, I fear, not one amongst a thousand that go after him, will follow him.  
But you are gone from us, and we heartily pray, that God may go along in all your companies. Your doors are shut up, and your Shops shut up; all our great 
Shops shut up.  Schools of learning (in London) are shut up; and 
Schools shut up.  would to Heaven, that, as our numbers (by your departing) are lessened, so our sins might be shut up, and lessened too. But I fear it is otherwise: For all the King's Injunction of Prayer and Fasting, yet on those very days (acceptable to God, were they truly kept, and comfortable to our souls) in some Churches you shall see empty pews, not filled as at first, not crowding, but sitting aloof one from another, as if, whilst they cry, Lord, have mercy upon us, the Plague were in the holy Temple amongst them. Where, if you look 
Our s●…es stand open.  into the Fields, look into the Streets, look into Taverns, look into Alehouses; they are all merry, all 
A Festival Fasting▪  jocund; no Plague frights them, no Prayers stir up them, no Fast ties them to obedience. In the Fields they are (in the time of that divine celebration) walking, talking, laughing, toying, and sporting together. In the Streets, blaspheming, selling, buying, swearing. In Taverns, and Alehouses, drinking, roaring, and surfeiting: In these, and many other places, God's Holiday is their Workday; the King's Fastingday, their day of Riot. I wash an Aethiope, who will never be the whiter for all this water I spend upon him, and therefore let me save any further labour.  
And now to you, who, to save your houses from Red 
No 〈◊〉 with 〈◊〉.  Crosses, shift your poor servants away to odd nooks in Gardens: O take heed what you do; in warding off one blow, you receive sometimes three or four. I have known some, who having had a Child or Servant dead, and full of the TOKENS, it has been no such matter, a little bribe to the Searchers, or the connivance of Officers, or the private departure and close burial of such a party, hath hushed all; but within a day or two after, three, four, or five have in the same House deceased, and then the badge of God's anger hath been worn by them, as openly as by other Neighbours.  
For, God will not have his Strokes hidden: his 
G●… must have fair p●…ay.  marks must be seen: He strikes not one at once, (when he is vexed indeed) but many▪ one may be covered, many cannot. As his mercy will be exalted in our weekly Bills (when the total sums fall) so will he have his justice and indignation exemplified, in the increasing of those Bills: and therefore let no man go about to abare the number: His Arithmerick brooks no crossing.  
To arm you therefore with patience (in this great day of Battle, where so many thousands fall) take a strong heart, a strong faith unto you; receive your 
A wound well cared for, is balse cured.  wounds gladly, bear them constantly, be not ashamed to carry them about you, considering under what Commander you receive them, and that is, The great Omnipotent General of Heaven.  
Why should any man, (nay, how dare any man) presume to escape this Rod of Pestilence, when at his back, before him, round about him, houses are shut up, Courses borne forth, and Coffins brought in? or what poor opinion, what madness fasteneth that man, who goes about to conceal it, when the smiting Angel goes from door to door, to discover it? He makes choice in what Rooms, and what Chambers such a 
Angels are heavens Harbingers, and appoint our Lodgings.  disease shall lie, such a sickness be lodged in, and where Death must (as God's Ambassador) be entertained. There is no resisting this authority, such Pursuivants as these cannot be bribed.  
Stay therefore still where you are, (sick or in health) and stand your ground: for whither will you fly? Into the Country? Alas! there you find worse enemies than those of Breda had in Spinola's Campe. A Spaniard is not so hateful to a Dutchman, as a Londoner 
A Londoner, a Bugbear.  to a Countryman. In Termtime, a Sergeant cannot more fright a Gentleman going muffled by Chancery-lane end, than a Citizen frights one of your Lobcocks, though he spies him five Acres off.  
In midst of my former compassionate complainings (over the misery of these times) let me a little 
A digression a little merrily, taxing the incivility of the common people.  quicken my own and your spirits, with telling you, how the rural Coridon's do now begin to use our Runaways; neither do I this out of an idle or undecent merriment (for jests are no fruit for this season) but only to lay open what foolery, infidelity, inhumanity, nay, villainy, irreligion, and distrust in God (with a defiance to his power) dwell in the bosoms of these unmannerly Oasts in these our own Netherlandish Dorpes.  
When the Britons here in England were oppressed 
The old Britons oppressed by the picts, call in the Saxons.  by picts and Scots, they were glad to call in the Saxons, to aid them, and beat away the other: The Saxons came, and did so, but in the end, tasting the sweetness of the Land, the Britons were fain to get some other Nation to come and drive out the Saxons. So, 
The Country people the bold Britons, W●… of Moneys are the picts, and Londoners the Saxons, at first called in, but now they care not if the Devil fetched them.  the Country people, being of late invaded by the picts, (beaten with wants of Money to pay their racked Rents to their greedy Landlords) with open arms, and welcoming throats, called to them, and received a pretty Army of our Saxon-Citizens; but now they perceive they swarm; now they perceive the Bells of London toll forty miles off in their ears; now that Bills come down to them every Week, that there dye so many thousands; they would with all their hearts call in very Devils (if they were but a little better acquainted with them) to banish our brisk Londoners out of their grassy Territories.  
And for that cause, they stand (within thirty and forty miles from London) at their Town's ends, forbidding any Horse, carrying a London load on his back, 
Ouerthr●… horse and foot.  to pass that way, but to go about, on pain of having his brains beaten out: and, if they spy but a footman (not having a Russet Suit on, their own Country livery) they cry, Arm, charge their Pike-staves, before he comes near them the length of a furlong; and, stopping their noses, make signs that he must be gone, there is no room for him, if the open Fields be not good enough for him to revell-in, let him pack. O you that are to travel to your friends into the Country, take heed what Clothes you wear, for a man in black, 
The foolish fear of the Corydons.  is as terrible there to be looked upon, as a Beadle in blue is (on Court-dayes at Bridewell) being called to whip a Whoremaster for his Lechery. A treble Ruff makes them look as pale, as if, in a dark night, they should meet a Ghost in a white Sheet in the middle of a Churchyard. They are verily persuaded, no Plagues, no Botches, blains, nor Carbuncles can stick upon any of their innocent bodies, unless a Londoner (be he never so fine, never so perfumed, never so sound) brings it to them. A Bill printed, called, The Red Cross, or, England's Lord have mercy upon us, being read to a Farmer's Son in Essex, he fell into a swound, and the Calf had much a do to be recovered. 
An Essex Calf, killed without a Butcher.  In a Town not far from Barnet (in Hartfordshire) a Citizen and his Wife riding down to see their Child at Nurse, the doors were shut upon them, the poor Child was in the Cradle carried three Fields off, to show it was living: the Mother took the 
Sparrowblasting.  Child home, and the Nurse's valiant Husband (being one of the Traind-Souldiers of the Country) set fire of the Cradle, and all the Clothes in it.  
A Broker in Houndes-ditch having a Brother in Hamshire, 
A Hounds-ditch Broker entertained like a brother.  whom he had not seen in five years, put good store of money in his Purse, and road down to visit his beloved Brother, being a Tanner; to whose House when he came, the Tanner-clapped to his doors, and from an upper wooden window (much like those in a Prison) coming to a Parley, he outfaced the Broker to be no Brother of his, he knew not his face, his favour, his voice: such a Brother he once had, and if this were he, yet his Trade (in being a Broker) was enough to cut off the kindred, his Clothes smelled of infection, his red Beard (for he hath one) was poison to him; and therefore, if he would not depart to the place from whence he came, he would either set his Dogs upon him, or cause his Servants to throw him 
This was above threescore in the hundred.  into a Tan-Fat; and if (quoth he) thou art any Brother of mine, bring a Certificate from some honest Brokers dwelling by thee (when the Plague is ceased) that thou art the man, and, it may be, mine eyes shall be then opened to behold thee: So, farewell.— With a vengeance (replied the Broker) and so came home, a little wiser than he went.  
No further from London then Pancridge, two or three Londoners, on a Sunday (being the seventeenth of this last past july) walking to the Village there-by, called Kentish-Towne, and spying Pancridge-Church doors open (a Sermon being then preached) a company of Hobnayle-fellowes, with Staffs, kept them out; and four or five Haymakers, (who out of their Countries came hither to get work) offering likewise to go in, to hear the Preacher, they were threatened by the worshipful wisdom of the Parish, to be set in 
The wisdom of Pancridge-Parish.  the Stocks, if they put but a foot within the Church-doores.  
Hath not God therefore just cause to be angry with this distrust, this infidelity of our Nation? How can we expect mercy from him, when we express such cruelty one towards another? When the Brother defies the Brother, what hope is there for a Londoner to to receive comfort from Strangers?  
Who then would fly from his own Nest, which he may command, to be lodged amongst Crows and Ravens, that are ready to pick out our Eyes, if we offer to come amongst them? The brave Parlours, stately 
The world is altered with Londoners.  dining-Roomes, and rich Chambers to lie in, which many of our Citizens had here in London, are now turned to haylofts, Apple-lofts, Hen-roosts, and Back-houses, no better then to keep Hogs in: I do not say in all places, but a number that are gone down, and were lodged daintily here, wish themselves at home, (as complaining Letters testify) but that the heat of Contagion frights them from returning, and it were a shame (they think) to come so soon back to that City, from whence with such greedy desire, they were on the wings of fear hurried hence.  
Flock not therefore to those, who make more account of Dogs then of Christians. The smelling to your ivory Boxes does not so much comfort your Nostrils, as the Sent of your perfumed bravery, stinks in the Noses (now) of Countrypeople. It may be perceived, by the coming back of many Carts laden with goods, which in scorn are returned to London, 
A Retreat founded.  and cannot for any Gold or Silver be received. What talk I of Cart-loades of Stuffe? If some more tender-hearted amongst the rest, give welcome to his brother, 
There be juries enough to swear bis.  kinsman, or friend; a Bear is not so woorried by Mastiffs, as he shall be by uncharitable Neighbours, when the Stranger is departed. They love your Money, but not your persons; yet love not your money so well, but that if a Carrier brings it to them from London, they will not touch a penny of it, till it be twice or 
To wash money, is against the Statute.  thrice washed in a Pale or two of water.  
But leaving these Creatures to be tormented by their own folly and ignorance; yet praying that God would open their eyes, and enlighten their souls with a true understanding of his divine judgements; I will now shut up my Discourse with that which is first promised in the Title-page of the Book, and those are, God's Tokens, etc.   

God's Tokens.  
ANd now, O you Citizens of LONDON, abroad or at home, be you rich, be you poor, tremble at the repetition of these horrors which here I set down: and of which ten thousand are eare-witnesses, great numbers of you that are in the City, having likewise beheld some of these, or their like, with your eyes. Neither are these warnings to you of London only, but to you (whoever you be) dwelling in the farthest parts of the Kingdom.  
Shall I tell you how many thousands have been 
Burials still passing.  borne on men's shoulders within the compass of five or six weeks? Bills sent up and down both Town and Country, have given you already too fearful informations.  
Shall I tell you, that the Bells call out night and day 
Bells still going.  for more Burials, and have them, yet are not satisfied? Every street in London is too much frighted with these terrors.  
Shall I tell you, that Churchyards have let their 
Churchyards still receiving.  ground to so many poor Tenants, that there is scarce room left for any more to dwell there, they are so pestered? The Statute against Inmates cannot sue these, for having taken once possession; no Law can remove them.  
Or shall I tell you, that in many Churchyards (for 
Graves' still gaping for more.  want of room, they are compelled to dig Graves like little Cellars, piling up forty or fifty in a Pit? And that in one place of burial, the Mattocke and Shovell have ventured so far, that the very Common-shore breaks into these ghastly and gloomy Warehouses, washing the bodies all over with foul water, because when they lay down to rest, not one eye was so tender to wet the ground with a tear? No, I will not tell you of these things, but of These, which are true (as the other) and 
The horrors of the tune.  fuller of horror.  
A woman (with a Child in her arms) passing thorough 
A woman and her child.  Fleetstreet, was struck sick upon a sudden; the Child leaning to her cheek, immediately departed: the Mother perceiving no such matter, but finding her own heart wounded to the death, she sat down near to a shop where hot Waters were sold; the charitable woman of that shop, perceiving by the poor wretch's countenance how ill she was, ran in all haste to fetch her some comfort; but before she could come, the Woman was quite dead: and so her child and she went lovingly together to one Grave.  
A Gentleman (known to many in this Town) having 
A Soldier.  spent his time in the Wars, and coming but lately over in health, and lusty state of body, going along the streets, fell suddenly down and died, never uttering more words then these, Lord, have mercy upon me. Another dropped down dead by All gate, at the Bell-taverne door.  
A Flax-man in Turnbull street, being about to send 
A Flax-man.  his Wife to market, on a sudden felt a pricking in his arm, near the place where once he had a sore, and upon this, plucking up his sleeve, he called to his Wife to stay; there was no need to fetch any thing for him from Market: for, see (quoth he) I am marked: and so showing Gods Tokens, died in a few minutes after.  
A man was in his Coffin, to be put into a Grave, in 
A country fellow.  Cripplegate Church-yard, and the Bearers offering to take him out, he opened his eyes, and breathed; but they running to fetch Aqua vita for him, before it came, he was full dead.  
A lusty country fellow, that came to town to get 
Another.  Haruest-worke, having sixteen or eighteen shillings in his Purse, fell sick in some lodging he had, in Old-street; was in the night time thrust out of doors, and none else receiving him, he lay upon Straw, under Suttons' Hospital wall, near the high way, and there miserably died.  
A woman going along Barbican, in the month of 
A woman in Barbican.  july, on a Wednesday, the first of the Dog-days, went not far, but suddenly fell sick, and sat down; the gaping multitude perceiving it, stood round about her, afar off; she making signs for a little drink, money was given by a slander by, to fetch her some: but the uncharitable Woman of the Alehouse denied to lend 
Whosoever, in my Name, giue●… a cup of cold water, etc.  her Pot to any infected companion; the poor soul died suddenly: and yet, albeit all fled from her when she lived, yet being dead, some (like Ravens) seized upon her body (having good clothes about her) stripped her, 
'tis the Prey makes the Thief.  and buried her, none knowing what she was, or from whence she came.  
Let us remove out of Barbican, into one of the Churches 
A Gentleman in Thames street.  in Thames-street, where a Gentleman passing by, who on a sudden felt himself exceeding ill, and spying a Sexton digging a Grave, stepped to him, asked many strange questions of the fellow, touching Burials, and what he would take to make a Grave for him: but the Sexton amazed at it, and seeing (by his face) he was not well, persuaded him to get into some house, and to take something to do him good. No (said he) help me to a Minister, who coming to him, and conferring together about the state of his soul, he delivered a sum of Money to the Minister, to see him well buried, and gave ten shillings to the Sexton to make his Grave, and departed not till he died.  
Now, suppose you are in Kent, where you shall see a 
A Kentish tale, but truer than those of Changers.  young handsome Maid, in very good apparel, ready to go into the Town, to a Sister, which dwelled there: but then as you cast an eye on her (coming into the City) so behold a company of unmerciful, heathenish, and churlish Townsmen, with Bills and Glaves, driving her by force back again; enter there she must not (it being feared she came from London) neither could her Sister be suffered to go forth to her. Whereupon, all comfort being denied her, all doors bard against her, no lodging being to be had for her; she, full of tears in her eyes, full of sorrow in her heart, sighing, wailing, and wring her hands, went into the open fields, there sickened, there languished, there cracked her heartstrings with grief, and there died, none being by her: When she was dead, the Den of a Serpent was not more shunned than the place she lay in. It was death (in any Townesmans' thinking) but to stand in the wind of it: there the body lay two or three days, none daring to approach it; till at the last, an old woman of Kent, stealing out of the Town, ventured upon the danger, rifled her Purse and Pockets, found good store of Money, stripped her out of her apparel, which was very good, digged a homely Grave (with the best shift she could make) and there in the field buried her.  
The Kentish Synagogue hearing of this, presently laid their heads together, and fearing lest the breath of an old woman might poison the whole Town, pronounced the doom of everlasting banishment upon her. And so was she driven from thence, with upbraid and hard language, and must never come to live more amongst them.  
Into another part of this Kingdom (not full forty 
Thirty pound 〈◊〉 lost, well recovered.  miles from London) did a Citizen send his man for thirty pound, to a country Customer, which was honestly paid to him; the young man departed merry, and in good health from him: and, albeit he had so much money about him, yet in his return to London, he could get no loging in any place; at which, being much afflcted in his mind, and offering an extraordinary rate to be entertained, neither Money, nor Charity, nor common Humanity, could get a door opened to receive 
The like was done three and twenty years ago.  him. Patient he was to endure this cruelty, and comforted himself, that carrying health about him, he should make shift to get to the City: but God had otherways bestowed him, his time was come, the Glass of his life almost run out, and his journey must be shortened. For taking up his lodging (by compulsion) in the open field, there he fell sick, and wanting all humane help and comfort, there died. It was soon known by those that walked out of the Town, into their grounds, that there he lay dead, and as soon did they consult together what to do with his body. None was so valiant as to come near it: It was an eminent danger, to suffer the Carcase lie above ground, and a greater danger for any one (as they thought) to remove it from thence. In the end, one more courageous than the other, was hired (for money) to rid the Town of this mortal fear; who (whatsoever should become of them) purposing to save himself, muffled his mouth, went into the same field where the dead body lay, a far off digged a Pit (a Grave he knew not how to make) and then, with a long Pole, having a hook to it, taking hold of the young man's clothes, he dragged him along, threw him in, and buried him.  
The Master of this servant, musing at his long staying, and being loath to lose both man and money, road down to see how both of them were bestowed; and understanding, that the Money was paid, and which way his man went for London, came to the same town, where (by guess) he thought he must needs put in for lodging; and upon strict inquiry, if such a young fellow had not been seen amongst them; it was confessed, Yes, with all the former Relations of his death, and where he lay buried. The much-perplexed Londoner hearing this, did, by fair means and money, get his Grave opened, had his body in the clothes taken up, and found all his Money about him, and then in the Town bestowed upon him, a friendly, loving, and decent burial.  
It fell out better with a company of merry Companions, 
Madness in merriment.  who went not above ten miles from London; for they, getting with much ado, into a country Victualing-house, were very jovial, and full of sport, though not full of money. Beer and Ale they called for roundly, down it went merrily, and the Cakes were as merrily broken. When the round O's began to increase to four or six shillings, quoth one mad fellow amongst the rest, What will you say, my Masters, if I fetch you off from the Reckoning, and never pay a penny? A brave Boy, cried all the company, if thou canst do this. Hereupon, the Oastesse being called up for t'other Pot, and whilst it was drinking, some speech being made of purpose, about the dangerous time, and the sickness, it fortuned that the Tokens were named. Upon which, the Woman wondering what kind of things they were, and protesting she never saw any, nor knew what they were like; this daring companion (who undertook the shot) clapping his hand on his breast; How (quoth he) never saw any? Why then I fear, I can now show you some about me; and with that, hastily unbuttoning his Doublet, opened his bosom, which was full of little blue Marks, received by Haile-shot out of a Birding-piece through a mischance. At sight of these, his Comrades seemed to be struck into a fear; but the innocent Oastesse was ready to drop down dead. They offered to fly, and leave him there. She fell on her knees, crying out, She was undone. A reckoning then being called for, because they would be honest to the house; the poor woman cared for no reckoning, let them call for as much more (so they drank it quickly) and there was not a penny to pay; provided, that they would take the spotted man away with them. They did so, and being gotten some little distance from the house, the counterfeit si●…ke Companion danced and skipped up and down, to show he was well: She cursing them for cheating Rascals, that so had gulled her. This was a trick of merriment, but few men, I think, would fill their bellies with drink so gotten. It is not safe to kiss Lightning, mock at Thunder, or dally with divine judgements.  
The Bells, even now toll, and ring out in mine ears, so that here again and again I could terrify you with sad Relations. An ample Volume might be sent down to you in the Country, of dismal and dreadful Accidents; not only here within London, but more in the Towns round about us. Death walks in every street: How many step out of their Beds into their Coffins? And albeit, no man at any time is assured of life, yet no man (within the memory of man) was ever so near death as now: because he that breaks his fast, is dead before dinner; and many that dine, never eat supper more. Let these then (as terrifying Scourges) serve to admonish the proudest of us all, to have a care to our footing, lest we fall suddenly.  
How many every day drop down staggering (being 
●…iserable objects  struck with infection) in the open Streets? What numbers breathe their last upon Stalls? How many creep into Eatries, and Stables, and there dye? How many lie languishing in the common Highways, and in the open Fields, on Pads of Straw, end their miserable lives, unpitied, unrelieved, unknown?  
The great God of mercy defend us all from sudden death: and so defend you (the rich Runaways) at your coming back to this desolate and forsaken City, that, as you fled hence to scape the Stroke of Contagion, you bring not, nor lay heavier strokes of mortality and misery upon us, when you return to your Houses. It so fell out in the last great time of Pestilence, at the death of the Queen, and coming in of the King: The Weeks did rise in their numbers of dead, as the numbers of the living did increase, who then came flocking to Town: As the fresh houses were filled with their old Owners, so new Graves were opened for the fresh comers.  
A heavy and sad welcome they had at home, after 
Merry mornings go before sad evenings.  their peaceable being in the Country: and how could it happen otherwise? They went out in haste, in hope to prevent death; in jollity, to preserve life; But when they came back, then began their terrors, than their torments: The first foot they sit out of their Countrey-Habitations, was to them a first step to their Graves: the nearer to London, the nearer to death. As condemned persons, going to execution, have oftentimes good colour in their faces, cheerful contenances, and manly looks all the way that they are going: but the nearer and nearer they approach the place where they are to leave the World, the greater are their fears, the paler they look, the more their hearts tremble; so did it far with Londoners in those days; but we that are here, pray that you may speed better: that you may return full of health, full of wealth, full of prosperity; that your Houses may be as Temples to you. your Chambers as Sanctuaries; that your Neighbours, Kindred, Friends, and acquaintance may give you joyful and hearty welcomes; that the City may not mourn then for your thronging in upon it, as she lamented to behold you (in shoals) forsaking her in her tribulation; but that God would be pleased to nail our sins upon the Cross of his Son Christ jesus, restore us to his mercy, render us a Nation worthy of his infinite blessings, and plucking in his revengeful Arm from striking us down continually into Graves, we all (abroad and at home, in Country and City) may meet and embrace one another, and sing an Allelniah to his Name.   
FINIS.