Liuery weare and fellowes are Sailing along in this black fleete And at the New Graues-end do meete Where Church-yards banquet with cold cheere Holding a feast once in ten yeere To which comes many a Pilgrym worme Hungry and faint beat with the storme Of galping Famine which before Onely pickt bones and had no more But now their messes come so fast They know not where or which to tast For before Dust to Dust be spoken And throwne on One more Graues be broken Thou Iealous man I pittie thee Thou that liu'st in hell to see A wantons eye cheapening the sleeke Soft Iewels of thy faire wiues cheeke My verse must run through thy cold heart Thy wife has playd the womans part And lyen with Death but spite on spite Thou must endure this very night Close by her side the poorest Groome In selfe-same bed and selfe-same roome But ease thy vext soule thus behold There 's one who in the morne with gold Could haue built Castells now hee 's made A pillow to a wretch that prayde For halfe-penny Almes with broken lim The Begger now is aboue him So he that yesterday was clad In purple robes and hourely had Euen at his fingers becke the fees Of bared heads and bending knees Rich mens fawnings poore mens praiers Tho they were but hollow aires Troopes of seruants at his calling Children like to subiects falling At his proude feete loe now hee 's taken By death he lies of all forsaken These are the Tragedies whose sight With teares blot all the lynes we write The Stage whereon the Scenes are plaide Is a whole Kingdome who was made By some most prouident and wise To hide from sad Spectators eyes Acts full of Ruth a priuate Roome To drowne the horror of deaths doome That building now no higher reare The Pest-House standeth euery where For those that on their Beeres are borne Are nombred more than those that mourne But you graue Patriots whom Fate Makes Rulers of this walled State We must not loose you in our verse Whose Acts we one day may rehearse In marble nombers that shall stand Aboue Tymes all-destroying hand Only methinkes you do erre In flying from your charge so farre So coward Captaines shrinke away So Shepheards do their flocks betray So Souldiers and so Lambes do perish So you kill those y' are bound to cherish Be therefore valiant as y' are wife Come back again The man that dies Within your walls is euen as neere To heau'n as dying any where But if ô pardon our bold thought You feare your breath is sooner caught Here then aloofe and therefore keepe Out of Deaths reach whilst thousands weepe And wring their hands for thousands dying No comfort neare the sick man lying T is to be fear'd you petty-kings When back you spread your golden wings A deadlyer siege which heauen auert Will your replenisht walls ingirt T is now the Beggers plague for none Are in this Battaile ouerthrowne But Babes and poore The lesser Fly Now in this Spiders web doth lie But if that great and goodly swarme That has broke through and felt no harme In his inuenom'd snares should fall O pittie t were most tragicall For then the Vsurer must behold His pestilent flesh whislt all his gold Turns into Tokens and the chest They lie in his infections brest How well hee le play the Misers part When all his coyne sticks at his heart Hee s worth so many farthings then That was a golden God mongst men And t is the aptest death so please Him that breath heauen earth and Seas For euery couetous rooting Mowle That heaues his drosse aboue his soule And doth in coyne all hopes repose To die with corps stampt full of those Then the rich Glutton whose swolne eyne Looke fiery red being boild in wine And in his meales adores the cup For when he falls downe that stands vp Therefore a goblet is his Saint To whome he kneeles with small constrain When his owne goblet Scull flowes o're He worships Bacchus on all foure For none's his God but Bacchus then Who rules and guides all drunken men When He shall wake from wine and view More then Tauern-tokens new Stampt vpon his brest and armes In horrid throngs and purple swarmes Then will he loath his former shapes When he shall see blew markes mock grapes And hang on clusters on each veine Like to wine-bubbles or the graine Of staggering sinne which now appeares In the December of his yeares His last of howers when hee le scarce haue Time to goe sober to his Graue And then to die dreadfull to thinke When all his blood is turnd to drinke And who knowes not this Sentence giuen Mongst all sinnes none can reele to Heauen But woe to him that sinkes in wine And dyes so without heau'd vp eyne And buried so O loathsome trench His graue is like a Tauerne bench T is fearefull and most hard to say How he shall stand at latter day The adulterous and luxurious spirit Pawnd to hell and sinnes hot merrit That bathes in lust his leaprous soule Acting a deed without controll Or thought of Deitie through whose bloud Runnes part of the Infernall floud How will he freeze with horror lying In dreadfull trance before his dying The heate of all his dambd desires Coold with the thought of gnashing fires His Ryots rauisht all his pleasures His marrow wasted with his treasures His painted harlots whose imbraces Cost him many siluer faces Whose only care and thought was then To keepe them sure from other men Now they dance in Russians handes Lazy Leiftenents without bandes With muffled halfe-fac'de Pandars laughing Whilst he lies gasping they sit quaâ—fing Smile at this plague and black mischance Knowing their deaths come o're from France T is not their season now to die Two gnawing poisons cannot lie In one corrupted flesh together Nor can this poison then fly thether There 's not a Strompet mongst them all That liues and rises by the fall Dreads this contagion or her threats Being guarded with French Amulets Yet all this while thy selfe liest panting Thy Luxurious howers recanting Whilst before thy face appeares Th' adulterous fruit of all thy yeares In their true forme and horrid shapes So many Incests violent Rapes Chambered adulteries vncleane passions Wanton habits riotous fashions And all these Anticks drest in hell To dance about the passing bell And clip thee round about the bed Whilst thousand Horrors graspe thy head The Cure of the Plagne ANd therefore this infectious season That now arrests the Flesh for Treason Against heauens euerlasting King Annointed with th' eternall spring Of life and power this stroke of Force That turnes the world into a Coarse Feeding the Dust with what it craues Emptying whole houses to fill graues These speckled Plagues which our sinnes leuy Are as needfull as th' are heauy Whose cures to cite our Muse for beares Tho he the Daphnean wreath that weares Being both Poesis Soueraigne King And God of medicine bids vs sing As boldly of those pollicies Those Onfets and those Batteries By Phisick cunningly applied To beate downe Plagues so fortified And of those Armes defensitiue To keep th' assaulted Heart aliue And of those wardes and of those sleights Vsde in these mortall single fights As of the causes that commence This ciuill warre of Pestilence For Poets soules should be confinde Within no bownds their towring mindes Must like the Sun a progresse make Through Arts immensiue Zodiake And suck like Bees the vertuous power That flows in learnings seuen-sold flower Distilling forth the same agen In sweet and wholesome Iuice to men But for we see the Army great Of those whose charge it is to beat This proud Inuader and haue skill In all those weapons that do kill Such pestilent foes we yeeld to them The glory of that stratagem To whose Oraculous voice repaire For they those Delphick Prophets are That teach dead bodies to respire By sacred Aesculapian fire We meane not those pied Lunatickes Those bold fantastick Empirickes Quack-saluers mishrump Mountebancks That in one night grow vp in rancks And liue by pecking Phisickes crummes O hate these venemous broodes there comes Worse sores from them and more strange births Then from ten plagues or twentie deaths Only this Antidote apply Cease vexing heauen and cease to die Seeke therefore after you haue found Salue naturall for the naturall wound Of this Contagion Cure from thence Where first the euill did commence And that 's the Soule each one purge one And Englands free the Plague is gone The necessitie of a Plague YEt to mixe comfortable words Tho this be horrid it affords Sober gladnes and wise ioyes Since desperate mixtures it destroies For if our thoughts sit truly trying The iust necessitie of dying How needfull tho how dreadfull are Purple Plagues or Crimson warre We would conclude still vrging pittie A Plague's the Purge to clense a Cittie Who amongst millions can deny In rought prose or smooth Poesie Of Euils t is the lighter broode A dearth of people then of foode And who knowes not our Land ran o're With people and was onely poore In hauing too too many liuing And wanting liuing rather giuing Themselues to wast deface and spoyle Than to increase by vertuous toyle The banckrout bosome of our Realme Which naked birthes did ouerwhelme This begers famine and bleake dearth When fruites of wombes passe fruites of earth Then Famines onely Phisick and The medcine for a ryotous Land Is such a plague So it may please Mercies Distributer to appease His speckled anger and now hide Th' old rod of Plagues no more to chide And lash our shoulders and sick vaines With Carbuncles and shooting Blaines Make vs the happiest amongst men Immortall by our prophecing pen That this last lyne may truly raigne The Plague's ceast heauen is friends againe FINIS A pos 〈…〉 ad Ciui 〈…〉 tem Pest-ho 〈…〉 The 〈…〉
for by all the opinion of the best Captaines that had a charge there and haue tryed them the men of Winchester are the onely seruiceable men this day in England the reason is they care no more to venture among small shots than to be at the discharging of so many Cannes of beere Tush us their desire to see those that enter vpon them to come off soundly that when they are gone all the world may beare witnes they came to their cost And being thus night and day imploid and continually entring into Action it makes them haue mightie stomacks so that they are able to soake and deuoure all that come in their way A Rapier and a Cloake haue bin eaten vp at a Supper as cleane and caryed away well too as if they had bin but two Rabbet-suckers A Nag serued but one Seruing-man to a breakefast whilst the Saddle and Bridle were brewd into a quart of strong Beere This intollerable destroying of victuals being lookt into the Inhabitants laid their heads together and agreed among themselues for the general good of the whole Towne to make it a towne of Garrison And seeing the desperate Termers that stroue in lawe together in such a pittifull pickle and euery day so durty that when they met their Councell they lookt like the black Guard fighting with the Innes of Court that therefore all the Householders should turne Turke and be victuallers to the Camp By this meanes hauing the lawe in their owne hands they rulde the roast how they listed insomuch that a common iugge of double Beere skornd to kisse the lips of a Knight vnder a groate Sixe howres sleepe could not be bought vnder fiue shillings Yea in some places a nights lodging was dearer than the hire of a Curtizan in Venice twice so long And hauing learnd the tricks of London-Sextons there they laid foure or fiue in a bed as here those other knaues of Spades thrust nine and tenne into one graue Beds keeping such a iustling of one another in euery roome that in the day time the lodgings lookt like so many Vpholsters Shops and in the night time like the Sauoy or S. Thomas Hospitall At which if any guest did but once bite his lip or grumble he was cashierd the company for a mutinous fellow the place was not for him let him trudge A number stood with Petitions readie to giue mony for the reuersion of it for Winchester now durst or at least hopt to stand vpon prowd termes with London And this thou beloued of all men is the very pith and marrow of the best and latest Newes except the vnmasking of certaine Treasons that came with the Post from Winchester where if thou hadst hirde a Chamber as would to heauen thou hadst thou wouldst neuer haue gone to any Barbers in London whilst thou hadst liude but haue bin trimd only there for they are the true shauers they haue the right Neapolitan polling To whose commendations let me glew this piece more that it is the most excellent place for dispatching of old suites in the world for a number of riding suites that had lyen long in lauander were worne out there only with seruing amongst the hot shots that marcht there vp and downe let Westminster therefore Temple-bar and Fleetestreete drinke off this draught of Rosa solis to fetch life into them againe after their so often swounding that those few Iurors that went thither if any did goe thither haue tane an oath neuer to sit at Winchester-Ordinary againe if they can choose but rather to breake their fasts in the old Abbey behinde Westminster with Pudding-Pyes and Furmenty Deliuer Copies of these Newes good Nobody to none of thy acquaintance as thou tenderst me and thou shalt commaund any seruice at my hands for I haue an intent to hire three or foure Ballad-makers who I know will be glad for sixe pence and a dinner to turne all this limping Prose into more perfectly-halting Verse that it shall doe any true-borne Citizens heart good to heare such doings sung to some filthie tune and so farewell Turne ouer a new leafe and try if I handle the Plague in his right kind Deuoted to none but thy selfe Some-body Newes from Graues-ende TO Sicknes and to Queazie Tymes We drinke a health in wholesome Rymes Phisicke we inuoke thy aide Thou that borne in heauen art made A lackey to the meanest creature Mother of health thou nurse of nature Equall friend to rich and poore At whose hands Kings can get no more Than emptie Beggers O thou wise In nothing but in Misteries Thou that ha'st of earth the rule Where like an Academe or Schoole Thou readst deep Lectures to thy sonnes Mens Demi-gods Phisitions Who thereby learne the abstruse powers Of Hearbs of Roots of Plants of Flowers And suck from poysonous stinking weede Preseruatiues mans life to feede Thou nearest to a God for none Can worke it but a God alone O graue Enchauntresse deigne to breath Thy Spells into vs and bequeath Thy sacred fires that they may shine In quick and vertuall medicine Arme vs to conuince this Foe This King of dead men conquering so This hungry Plague Cater to death Who eates vp all yet famisheth Teach vs how we may repaire These Ruines of the rotten Aire Or if the Aires pollution can So mortall strike through beast and man Or if in blood corrupt Death lye Or if one dead cause others die How ere thy soueraigne cures disperse And with that glory crowne our verse That we may yet saue many a soule Perchance now merry at his Bowle That ere our Tragick Song be don Must drinke this thick Contagion But ô griefe why do we atcite The charmes of Phisick whose numbd sprite Now quakes and nothing dare or can Checkt by a more dread Magitian Sick is Phisicks selfe to see Her Aphorismes prou'de a mockery For whilst shee 's turning o're her bookes And on her drugs and simples lookes Shee 's run through owne armed heart Th' infection flying aboue Art Come therefore thou the best of Nine Because the Saddest euery line That drops from Sorrowes pen is due Only to thee to Thee we sue Thou Tragick Maid whose Fury's spent In dismall and most black Oâ—tent In Vprores and in Fall of Kings Thou of Empires change that sings Of Dearths of Warres of Plagues and laughes At Funeralls and Epitaphes Carowse thou to our thirstie soule A full draught from the Thespian bowle That we may powre it out agen And drinke in nombers Iuice to men Striking such horrors through their eares Their haire may vpright stand with feares Till rich Heires meeting our strong verse May not shrinck back before it pierce Their marble eye-balls and there shead One drop at least for him that 's dead To worke which wonder we will write With Penns puld from that bird of night The shriking Owle our Inck wee le mix With teares of widowes black as Stix The paper where our lynes shall meete Shall be a folded
winding sheete And that the Scene may shew more full The Standish is a dead mans scull Inspire vs therefore how to tell The Horror of a Plague the Hell The cause of the Plague NOr drops this venome from that faire And christall bosome of the Aire Whose ceaseles motion clarifies All vaporous stench that vpward flies And with her vniuersall wings Thick poisonous fumes abroad she flings Till like to Thunder rudely tost Their malice is by spreading lost Yet must we graunt that from the veines Of Rottennes and Filth that reignes O're heapes of bodies slaine in warre From Carrion that indangers farre From standing Pooles or from the wombes Of Vaults of Muckhills Graues Tombes From Boggs from ranck and dampish Fenns From Moorish breaths and nasty Denns The Sun drawes vp contagious Fumes Which falling downe burst into Rhewmes And thousand malladies beside By which our blood growes putrified Or being by windes not swept from thence They houer there in cloudes condense Which suckt in by our spirits there flies Swift poyson through our Arteries And not resisted strait it choakes The heart with those pestiferous smoakes Thus Phisicke and Philosophy Do preach and with this Salues apply Which search and vse with speede but now This monster breeds not thus For how If this be prou'de can any doubt But that the Ayre does round about In flakes of poyson drop on all The Sore being spread so generall Nor dare we so conclude for then Fruites Fishes Fowle nor Beasts nor Men Should scape vnteinted Grazing flocks Would feede vpon their graues the Oxe Drop at the plough the trauelling Horse Would for a Rider beare a Coarâ—e Th' ambitious Larke the Bird of state Whose wings do sweep heauens pearled gate As she descended Then would bring Pestilent Newes vnder each wing Then Riuâ—rs would drink poyson'd aire Trees shed their green and curled haire Fish swim to shore full of disease For Pestilence would Fin the seas And we should thinke their scaly barkes Hauing small speckles had the markes No soule could moue but sure there lyes Some vengeance more then in the skies Nor as a Taper at whose beames Ten thousands lights fetch golden streames And yet it selfe is burnt to death Can we belieue that one mans breath Infected and being blowne from him His poyson should to others swim For then who breath'd vpon the first Where did th'imbulked venome burst Or how scapte those that did diuide The selfe-same bits with those that dide Drunke of the selfe-same cups and laie In Vlcerous beds as close as they Or those who euery houre like Crowes Prey on dead carkasies their nose Still smelling to a graue their feete Still wrapt within a dead mans sheete Yet the sad execution don Careles among their Canns they run And there in scorne of Death or Fate Of the deceast they widely prate Yet snore vntoucht and next day rise To act in more new Tragedies Or like so many bullets flying A thousand here and there being dying Death's Text-bill clapt on euery dore Crosses on sides behinde before Yet the i' th midst stands fast from whence Comes this you le say from Prouidence T is so and that 's the common Spell That leades our Ignorance blinde as hell And serues but as excuse to keepe The soule from search of things more deepe No no this black and burning starre Whose sulphurd drops do scald so farre Does neither houer o're our heads Nor lyes it in our bloods nor beds Nor is it stitcht to our attires Nor like wilde balls of running fires Or thunderbolts which where they light Do either bruise or kill out-right Yet by the violence of that Bound Leape off and giues a second wound But this fierce dragon huge and fowle Sucks virid poyson from our soule Which being spit forth again there raigns Showers of Blisters and of Blaines For euery man within him feedes A worme which this contagion breedes Our heauenly parts are plaguy sick And there such leaprous spotts do stick That God in anger fills his hand With Vengeance throwing it on the land Sure t is some Capitall offence Some high high Treason doth incense Th' Eternall King that thus we are Arraign'd at Death most dreadfull barre Th'Inditement writ on Englands brest When other Countries better blest Feele not the Iudges heauy doome Whose breath like Lightning doth consume And with a whip of Planets scourges The Veines of mortalls In whom Surges Of sinfull blood Billowes of Lust Stir vp the powres to acts vniust Whether they be Princes Errors Or faults of Peeres pull downe these Terrors Or because we may not erre Lets sift it in particuler The Courtiers pride lust and excesse The Church mans painted holinesse The Lawyers grinding of the poore The Souldiers staruing at the doore Ragd leane and pale through want of blood Sold cheape by him for Countries good The Schollers enuy Farmers curse When heau'ns rich Threasurer doth disburse In bounteous heapes to thankles men His vniuersall Blessings then This deluing Moale for madness eates Euen his owne lungs and strange oathes sweates Because he cannot sell for pence Deare yeares in spite of Prouidence Adde vnto these the City sin Brought by seuen deadly monsters in Which doth all bowndes and blushing scorne Because t is in the Freedome borne What Traines of Vice which euen Hell hates But haue bold passage through her gates Pride in Diet Pride in Cloathing Pride in Building pure in nothing And that she may not want disease She sailes for it beyond the Seas With Antwerp will she drinke vp Rhene With Paris act the bloodiest Scene Or in pyed fashions passe her folly Mocking at heauen yet looke most holy Of Vsury shee 'll rob the Iewes Of Luxury Venetian Stewes With Spaniards shee 's an Indianist With barbarous Turks a Sodomist So low her Antique walls do stand These sinnes leape o're euen with one hand And Hee that all in modest black Whose Eye-ball strings shall sooner crack Then seeme to note a tempting face Measuring streets with a Doue-like pace Vnder that oyly vizard weares The poore mans sweat and Orphans teares Now whether these particular Fates Or generall Moles disfiguring States Whether one sin alone or whether This Maine Battalion ioynd together Do dare these plagues we cannot tell But downe they beate all humane Spell Or it may be Iehouah lookes But now vpon those Audit-Bookes Of 45. yeares husht account For houres mispent whose summes surmount The price of ransomd Kings and there Finding our grieuous debts doth cleere And crosse them vnder his owne hand Being paid with Liues through all the land For since his Maiden Seruant 's gone And his new Vizeroy fills the Throne Heauen meanes to giue him as his bride A Nation new and purified Take breath a while our panting Muse And to the world tell gladder newes Than these of Burialls striue a while To make thy sullen nombers smile Forget the names of Graues and Ghosts The sound of bells the vnknowne coasts Of Deaths
vast Kingdome and saile o're With fresher winde to happier Shore For now the maiden Ile hath got A Roiall Husband heauenly Lott Faire Scotland does faire England wed And giues her for her maiden-head A crowne of gold wrought in a Ring With which Shee 's maried to a King Thou Beldame whisperer of false Rumors Fame cast aside those Antique humors Lift vp thy golden Tromp and sound Euen from Tweedes vtmost christ all bownd And from the bankes of Siluer Thames To the greene Ocean that King Iames Had made an Iland that did stand Halfe sinking now the firmest land Carry thou this to Neptunes eare That his shrill Tritons it may beare So farre vntill the Danish sound With repercussiue voice rebound That Eccho's doubling more and more May reach the parched Indian shore For t is heau'ns care so great a wonder Should fly vpon the wings of Thunder The Horror of the Plague O Thou my Countrie here mine eyes Are almost sunck in waues that rise From the rough winde of Sighs to see A spring that lately courted thee In pompous brauery All thy Bowers Gilt by the Sunne perfumde with flowers Now like a loathsome Leaperlying Her arbors withring greene Trees dying Her Reuells and May-meriments Turned all to Tragick dreeryments And thou the mother of my breath Whose soft brest thousandes nourisheth Alrar of Ioue thou throne of Kings Thou Fownt where milke and hony springs Europs Iewell Englands Iem Sister to great Ierusalem Neptunes minion bout whose wast The Thames is like a girdle cast Thou that but health canst nothing want Empresse of Cities Troynouant When I thy lofty Towers behold Whose Pinnacles were tipt with gold Both when the Sun did set and rise So louely wert thou in his eies Now like old Monuments forsaken Or like tall Pynes by winter thaken Or seeing thee gorgeous as a bride Euen in the heigth of all thy pride Disrobd'e disgracte And when all Nations Made loue to thee in amorous passions Now scornd of all the world alone None seeke thee nor must thou seeke none But like a prisoner must be kept In thine owne walles till thou hast wept Thine eyes out to behold thy sweete Dead children heapt about thy feete O Derrest say how can we chuse But haue a sad and drooping Muse When Coarses do so choake thy way That now thou lookst like Golgatha But thus The altring of a State Alteis our Bodies and our Fate For Princes death 's do euen bespeake Millions of liues when Kingdomes breake People dissolue and as with Thunder Cities proud glories rent asunder Witnes thy walls whose stony armes But yesterday receiu'de whole swarmes Of frighted English Lord and Lowne Lawyer and Client Courtier Clowne All sorts did to thy buildings fly As to the safest Sanctuary And he that through thy gates might passe His feares were lockt in Towers of brasse Happie that man now happier they That from thy reach get first away As from a shipwrack to some shore As from a lost field drownd in gore As from high Turrets whose Ioints faile Or rather from some loathsome Iaile But note heau'ns Iustice they by flying That would cozen Death and saue a dying How like to chaffe abroad th' are blowne And but for scorne might walke vnknowne Like to plumde Estridges they ride Or like Sea-pageants all in pride Of Tacklings Flags and swelling Sailes Borne on the loftiest waues that veiles His purple bonnet and in dread Bowes downe his snowie curled head So from th' infected citie fly These Swallowes in their Gallantry Looking that wheresoe're they light Gay Sommer like a Parasite Should waite on them and build'em bowers And crowne their nests with wreathed flowers And Swaynes to welcome them should sing And daunce as for their Whisson King Feather of Pride how art thou tost How soone are all thy beauties lost How casely golden hopes vn-winde The russet boore and leatherne hinde That two daies since did sinck his knee And all vncouered worshipt thee Or being but poore and meanely cloathed Was either laught to scorne or loathed Now thee he loathes and laughes to scorne And tho vpon thy back be worne More Sattin than a kingdomes worth He barrs his doore and thrusts thee forth And they whose pallat Land nor Seas Whome fashions of no shape could please Whome Princes haue in ages past For rich attires and sumptuous wast Neuer come neere now sit they rownd And feede like beggers on the grownd A field their bed whose dankish Sheetes Is the greene grasse And he that meetes The flatrings◠Fortune does but lie In some rude barne or loathsome stie Forsooke of all floured forlorne Owne brother does owne brother scorne The trembling Father is vndone Being once but breath'd on by his sonne Or if in this sad pilgrimage The hand of vengeance fall in rage So heauy vpon any'es head Striking the sinfull body dead O shame to ages yet to come Dishonor to all Christendome In hallowed ground no heaped gold Can buy a graue nor linnen sold To make so farre is pittie fled The last apparell for the dead But as the fashion is for those Whose desperare handes the knot vnlose Of their owne liues In some hye-way Or barren field their bones they lay Euen such his buriall is And there Without the balme of any teare Or pomp of Souldiers But ô griefe Dragd like a Traitor or some thiefe At horses tailes hee 's rudely throwne The coarse being stuck with flowers by none No bells the dead mans Confort playing Nor any holy Churchman saying A Funerall Dirge But swift th' are gon As from some noysome cation O desolate Citie now thy wings Whose shadowe hath bene lou'd by Kings Should feele sick feathers on each side Seeing thus thy sonnes got in ther pride And heate of plenty In peace borne To their owne Nation left a scorne Each cowheards feares a Ghost him haunts Seeing one of thine inhabitants And does a Iew or Turke prefer Before that name of Londoner Would this were all But this black Curse Doing ill abroad at home does worse For in thy now dispeopled streetes The dead with dead so thickly meetes As if some Prophets voice should say None shall be Citizens but they Whole housholds and whole streets are stricken The sick do die the sound do sicken And Lord haue mercy vpon vs crying Ere Mercy can come forth th' are dying No musick now is heard but bells And all their tunes are sick mens knells And euery stroake the bell does toll Vp to heauen it windes a soule Oh if for euery coarse that 's laide In his cold bed of earth were made A chyme of belles if peales should ring For euery one whom death doth sting Men should be deaffe as those that dwell By Nylus fall But now one Knell Giues with his Iron voyce this doome That twentie shall but haue one roome There friend and foe the yong and old The freezing coward and the bold Seruant and maister Fowle and faire One