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A69118 Clinton, Purser & Arnold, to their countreymen wheresoeuer Wherein is described by their own hands their vnfeigned penitence for their offences past: their patience in welcoming their death, & their duetiful minds towardes her most excellent Maiestie. Clinton, Atkinson.; Walton, Thomas, fl. 1583. aut; Arnold, fl. 1583. aut 1583 (1583) STC 5431; ESTC S116122 5,235 12

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Clinton Purser Arnold to their Countreymen wheresoeuer Wherein is described by their own hands their vnfeigned penitence for their offences past their patience in welcoming their Death their duetiful minds towardes her most excellent Maiestie LONDON Imprinted by Iohn Wolfe and are to be sold at the middle shop in the Poultry ioyning to S. Mildredes Church LOrdinges that list to heare a dreery tale where euery Comma showes a Corosiue Set mirth apart and strike your pleasant saile my sighes may serue your loaden barkes to driue alongst the shore where sorrowes Ships arriue Whose case is such as when you shall haue scand Say as you see and set my sighes on land Not long since then I held a haplesse Shippe precisely rigg'd and furnisht for the nones Whome nothing craz'd till Fortune gan to trippe and dasht my state so stifly gainst the stones as brake my Barke and brused all my bones But if I say my sinne deseru'd the same In telling truth I merite meaner blame When red as bloud the Horizon appear'd about the doore which letteth foorth the day And when the morne the mist had scarce ycleerd amidst the Seas we furrowed foorth our way with hope before that harbored our decay But who too late preuentes alluring charmes With vs too soone shall sorrow for his harmes Two lofty saile from out the louely East it was our hap vnhaply to descry I wish they had bene further in the VVest when gracelesse we to greete them came so nie But who fares well whome Fortune doth defie We stoupt we strake and vaild when we had seene The Armes of England and our noble Queene We knew the Lion would not hurt the Lambe it was not feare that forc'd vs to be faint From hoater broyles too late we Victors came to know our frendes we neuer made it quaint when we gan yeeld there needed no constraint For both my conscience and my God can tell I euer wisht my Queene and country well But yet eftsoones we at her mercy are for Life or Death as God and She shall please These be the Notes that make my Musicke iarre these be the Cliffes to wit my want of ease these be the sorrowes which succeede the Seas This is the Comma and the Corosiue too That vrge me more then some suppose they doe And therefore sith you see our case is such it shall not hurt to lend vs your lament Though euill tongues abuse vs ner so much imagining vntruthes of our entent there is a God can their despight preuent What though the weake be driuen to the wall Tis foule to triumph in an others fall I holpe the helplesse but it was my worst good countreymen with conscience way my case In deede I shot but they discharged first how could I choose but take it in disgrace when they so fierce defide me to my face Admit I slew a marchant by my shot Good frends forgiue me for I wisht it not For if I had I might haue harmd them more then I or did or deigned to desire But th'English still I lou'd on Sea and shore though they return'd me hatred for my hire when I am dead they haue what they require Yet I forget forgiue and pardon those Whome I befriended to become my foes But some could say as secrete as they seeme through our supportes some perils they had past But stroken downe who dares of vs esteeme they flie not now but they haue faund as fast when forren foes had made them all agast When they haue crept and croucht to vs for aide Like harmelesse birdes whome Falcones make afraid When euen the Purser with his peece on Poope in steede of Captaine carefully hath stoode In their defence to make the Stallants stoope but his reward is wandred to the wood and they forget that ere he did them good But were they now as weake as erst they were Then would they wish the silly Purser there Some faithlesse French are pleasd to see perhaps that his good will hath wrought him this reward Clapping their hands to heare of his mishaps which had his Realme and rightes in such regard and bet them backe that els your Martes had mard But looke abroad haue care vnto your Roades And cleanse your Coastes of such vnseemely Toades As for my selfe I owe a due to Death and I respect it not in that I die Onely the manner of my losse of breath is cause that I for some compassion cry My soule is sau'd where ere my body lie This makes me sigh that faith vnto my frend Hath brought me thus to this vntimely end Thomas Walton alias Purser NE in furore oh my soueraigne God reproue me not in wrath I thee desire Let it suffice that with thy gracious rod I meekely take my death of sinne the hire no flesh may stand in thy consuming ire I aske no more so thou my sinnes forgiue Tis one to me if I do dy or liue What els is life but as a sonny day which euery cloude discoloureth and o'rcastes What els is life but as we vse to say the more agreeu'd the longer that it lasts what els is life but like to sodaine blasts What els is life but being good or ill The very meanes our soules to saue or spill Then louely friendes and such whose hap shalbe to heare or read the tenor of my tale As you haue cause coniecture so of me whose blislesse life was neuer free from bale t'were vaine thus late to set my selfe to sale I'le say the sooth as God shall make me able For condemnd men haue litle cause to fable First then suppose that you in presence see an aged man of no great personage Yet of a minde as many others bee more nobly bent then seemed by mine age who mongst the thickest thrust vnto the Stage To breath abroad from my constrained brest The smoaky reekes of mine extreame vnrest Arnold I hight by birth a gentleman of honest parents and in Hamshire borne Well left to liue when haplesse I began in Th'Irish bogges a Soldier to be sworne howbeit a Priest was cause of all my scorne A worthlesse Priest a Priest of such despite As shadoweth that which should haue giuen vs light This spitefull Priest too rough in his reuenge as one that sought to keepe me vnder awe My scarcefull purse not prelatelike did clenge by busy sute wherein I was too rawe as seemed by the lirch I got by law Whose lewde demurs to lengthen out their fees Consumde my furres and clapt me vp in freese This made me first to set my farmes to sale this droue poore Arnall out of house and home When I as rich as he that begs his ale amongst my friendes enforced was to rome but friendes are fendes when friendship should be shone For when my cause they throughly vnderstood They said they greeu'd but could not do me good What rested then when this outragious Priest had wrackt me thus that neuer did him wrong
What rested then when fees my coyne had fleecd that reft my friendes in whome I hopt so long nought as I saw but euen to sing this song From such bad Priestes law bribes and friendes Sanz faith Deliuer all good men poore Arnold saith After a while though band with bell and booke by God and mine endeuor I obtaind A silly Barke and to the Seas betooke the crazed bones wherein such sorrow raignd but soone I lost what I so slightly gaind My Barke was spoyld and I on shoore was set For spitefull hap to plague me better yet Strife sorrow cold and many a care gan vrge me now as fiercely as before But as the subtill slyly slick their ware in hope to pryse their marchandies the more not recking wrong so they increase their store So Fortune chose to vse her finest charme When sooth to say she sought my greatest harme For after this vpon our English Coast from Frenchmen there a Pinnace Purser tooke Of whose braue courage Brittaine well might boast if so they list in his exploytes to looke but idle ease can no aduentures brooke Purser on me this Pinnase straight bestowde Which wrought my paine and yet his pitie showde Hence grew my griefe here gan my bale abound this was the path that led me forth to paine There ran the Sea which my decay did sound thence came the cause that queld me once againe and yet of Purser can I not complaine He franckly gaue what I too freely vsde Then blame not him for I his giftes abusde On Seas I met a sort of faithles French that through a leake their ship had welny lost But I in pittie sought the same to stench for which good deed they bad me fare wel frost a tunne of coales nought els my labour cost These coales by law the Iury did conuart To such a case as cooles me at the hart Short tale to make of force I must confesse my God my life no longer would deferre My Prince displeasde that I did so digresse to warne the rest that otherwise might erre to cut me off it also pleased her Yet liues he not that can in conscience say Purser or Arnold made one English praye But we abusde our Princes league and law through which in deed we did deserue to dye For if we liue not vnder soueraigne awe but senselesse seeke our own securitie the publike weale would perish presently As for my selfe as bitter as it is Welcome sweete Death for I haue done amis This onely restes that my example charme all other men heareafter to beware For feare themselues incurre as great a harme as we whose proofes of such importance are let rage and rigor mongst Deuines be rare For God he knowes that his extremitie was onely cause of my first miserie He brocht my bale but his abode in lawes consumde my selfe and soakte my substance drye No other like when men will striue for strawes which though he caus'd yet I forgiue him I and quyetly I am content to dye Fare well vaine world with thine aluring showes And welcome Death the end of all my woes FINIS Arnold Clinton to his Countrey men AMongst the most not least in his laments giue Clinton leaue to waile his inward woes Whose sore mishap whose sharp and hard euents sufficient method for his matter showes but who can alter what the Heauens dispose Let mortall men determine what they list The heauenly powers their purpose can resist Then mourne with me the stay of vaine estate whose brickle steps are slippery and vnsure What though proude Fortune puffed vp with hate vntimely thus my timeles end procure I recke her not her rage can not endure Her greatest triumph I esteeme as toyes For why my hope disharbors mine annoyes Though not my power yet may my pitious plaintes without offence be thrust amongst the rest Alas my Lordings what they are not Saintes is sinne vnseene because it is supprest no God doth search the secretes of the brest And surely such are more then most vnwise That thinke sinne safe not seene with mortall eyes The bushie wood the groue th'obscured hurst the secret caue the surging furrowed Seas Whereon to venture I too ventrous durst as now I feele vnto my want of ease lie plaine as plats whē th'heuenly power shal please No ship so swift their speedy passage make But with a trice he can them ouer take Welth worldly wit Ambition or Renowne nor ought on earth so parmanent abides But fickle Fortune sometime puls them down so vaine we are so soone our honor slides so trustles she whose mirth to mischiefe glydes Our paines endure our pleasures are but short But what auailes the heedlesse to exhort My selfe sometime not least in Fortunes loue may best giue instance of her great disgrace VVhich whilom liude amidst the heaue and shoue and mongst the proudest gaind the chiefest place till trustlesse she gan turne away her face Till she too sharpe returnd me checke and mate And topside turuey turned mine estate Besides my selfe who bare so braue a sway who raigned more then I that ruld the roast VVho durst resist if I did him gainsay and boldly be it spoke withouten boast who more then Clinton scowrd in euery coast who holpe the helplesse more say what they shall Then Clinton did that came at euery call A world to see how wretched tongues are bent to thunder forth the fables which they faine who with their lewde illusions so content they blaze abroad what commeth in their braine when God he knowes they wot not what they sayen Condemning Clinton for the cruelest Rouer That euersaild Sea and yet their mouthes run ouer Yet such they are as worke my present woe as vnacquainted with my better deedes And I haue rescude many as they know but my good workes are choaked vp with weedes such kankered malice their supposes feedes The Londoners whereof I neede not boast Regard me least whome I haue fauoured most But who can cure so venomous a slie as slaunders forge in credulous conceates My nommed hart that frosen was before for thought of this amidst my sorrowes sweates their false report like rust my credit eates Their double tongues although they do me wrong Are onely cause I sing this Swanlike songe Poore I that sought to pleasure each opprest pdore I that sought to cure anothers paine Poore I that watcht when others tooke their rest poore I that did my countries cause maintaine poore I that sau'd must now my selfe be slaine Poore I that wisht my Queene and countries welth Am now supprest but hope vpholdes my helth Then giue me leaue to breath abroad my moanes whose life or death my Prince may take or giue And though they stand like stockes sensles stones whome I haue holpe whilst I in hap did liue and sooner might haue fild an emptie siue The time hath bene when they to please me prest But now they dare not cause I am distrest who more my foes then whome I pleasured most who seeke my life but such as plaine of peace who digge my graue who persecute my ghost who to procure my ruin sooner prease Then hate and slaunder coupled in a lease But God is iust and he in mercy will Forgiue my sins and plague them for their ill Loe Lordings thus I leaue my last adue for you to scan what ere of me become T'were vaine for me to tell that were vntrue you may belieue what I herein haue done my paine is past though yet my glasse doth runne This grieues me most that many a poore man lackes The gelt that I haue giuen the Sea by sackes FINIS Clinton