MISERY to be Lamented: Or, A Doleful Relation of the sad Accident which befell Laurence Cawthorn, a Journey-man-Butcher, belonging to the Shambles in Newgate-Market, who being supposed to be dead, was caused to be presently buried by his Lanlady Mrs. Co●k, in Pincock-Lane, only, as is supposed out of her greedy desire to gain his clothes. And how he came to himself again, when he was in the grave, as appeared when he was taken up, by the sad consequences of his struggling and striving to get out of the Coffin, his arms being beaten black and blue, his head bruised and swelled as big as two heads, and his eyes starting almost out of his head; It being also certainly reported, that he was heard to utter many grievous shrieks and groans the time he lay under ground, which was from Friday night, June 21. to Monday morning, June 24. 1661. To the Tune of, Troy Town. ALL you that spend your precious times i● sensual pleasures and delights, In drinking, swearing, and such crimes, whom death itself no whit affrights, Give ear to what I shall declare, and well consider what you are. Your days in length are like a span, your life's a vapour, which appears But for a little while, and than death puts a period to your years; O! therefore now, even whilst you may prepare you for your dying day. Let not presumptuous thoughts take place within your hearts, but surely know Your life's but for a little space (death is a debt which all men owe) O! the efore now, even whilst you may prepare you for your dying day. Repentance must not be deferred until old age or sickness come; Death often meets men unprepared, and sends them to their longest home; Therefore so live, that still you may be ready for your dying day. It is appointed that all men must die; this truth we know full well, But in what manner, where, or when none but the Lord alone can tell; Therefore so live, that still you may be ready for your dying day. We daily by experience see that from deaths heavy mortal blow Nought in the world can set us free, but to the stroke we all must bow, O! therefore now, even whilst you may prepare you for your dying day. A sad Example hath of late been evident before our eyes. A young man whose unhappy fate may teach us all to be more wise And live so, that we always may be ready for our dying day. A Butcher was this young man's Trade and Laurence Cawthorn was his name, The place where he his lodging had, was at a house in Pincock-Lane, Wherein one Master Cook doth dwell, in Newgate-Market, known full well. When he his Freedoms did obtain, a journeyman's place he undertook A livelihood thereby to gain, well t● his business he did look, And very careful he was still to satisfy his Masters will. But now what unto him befell, I plainly to you will declare, That this is true which I shall tell, most certainly it doth appear; 'Tis strange! yet thus it came to pass, alive this young man buried was. The second Part to the same Tune. ON Thursday June the twentieth day, as soon as evening-tide was come, His work being done, he went some say unto an Alehouse near his home, And tarried certain hours space with his companions in that place. Then coming home, to people's view he seemed in perfect health to been Much work he said he had to do next morn as soon as he could see, And told his Landlord to that end to rise betimes he did intend. But when next morning light appeared, and he not rising as he said, To do his work; his Landlord feared that sleep his senses had betrayed, Therefore he to his Chamber hies, and loudly calls to make him rise. But all in vain, for why alas, the young man heard not when he spoke, Which to him a great wonder was that Laurence would no answer make. Then down the stairs he did run, and told some Neighbours what was done. A Smith was sent for then with speed who soon broke open the Chamber door: Which being done, they then indeed began to wonder more and more: For why, they surely thought that death had quite bereft him of his breath. They found him lying on the bed his clothes were ●n, his eyes were shut: No motion from the foot to head, which them into amazement put. And all concluded certainly his life was past recovery. The Searchers than came up, and viewed his body o'er in every place: And to the people than they showed, what was their judgement in that case. Their Uerdict was, that cruel Death had by a Quinsey stopped his breath. His Landlady through covetousness to gain his clothes I understand: Did make it her great business to bury him quickly out of hand. A shallow Grave was digged with speed and he therein was laid indeed. But ah! what groans he uttered as some report for verity: For as it seems he was not dead, but only in a trance did lie. And coming to himself again he did endure most grievous pain. With head and feet, and arms he wrought, so long as any strength remained: Most earnestly for life he sought, which could by no means be obtained. For being underneathe the ground to save his life no way was found. From Friday night till Monday morn he lay in earth imprisoned: Disconsolate and quite forlorn, until his breath was smothered. And then when as the time was past, they digged him out o'th' grave at last. His Coffin opened was, wherein a doleful sight they then beheld: With struggling he had bruised his skin, his head and eyes were sadly swelled. His body over black and blue, as many do report for true. His Landlord and his Landlady being suspected for this deed: Examined were most certainly and unto Newgate sent with speed And till themselves they well can clear, it is supposed they must lie there. Now let us all with one consent turn to the Lord with heart and mind: And of our grievous sins repent, that so we may God's mercy find, And to conclude to God let's call, from such a death Lord keep us all. FINIS. London, printed for F. G. on Snow-hill. Entered according to Order.