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death_n bring_v law_n life_n 4,486 5 4.7566 4 false
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A13486 The praise and vertue of a iayle, and iaylers With the most excellent mysterie, and necessary vse of all sorts of hanging. Also a touch at Tyburne for a period, and the authors free leaue to let them be hanged, who are offended at the booke without cause. By Iohn Taylor. Taylor, John, 1580-1653. 1623 (1623) STC 23785; ESTC S118256 15,979 38

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some great Emperour or some mighty King Should be imprison'd by a vassall slaue And lodg'd aliue as 't were within his Graue Such is the case of Siluer and of Gold The chiefest of all mettals fast in hold And darknesse lies held in the Misers stocks In steele and yron bars and ●o●ts and locks Though gold and siluer royall mettals be Yet are they slaues to yron as we see But leauing Gold and Gowt ●e turne my pen To what I haue digrest from Iayles and men Let man examine well himselfe and he Shall find himselfe his greatest enemie And that his losse of liberty and pelfe He can accuse none for it but himselfe How passions actions and affections cluster And how to ruinate his state they muster His frailty armes his members and his senses To vndertake most dangerous pretences The backe oft tempts him vnto borrowed brauery And all his body suffers for 't in slauery His Belly tempts him to superfluous fare For which his corps lies in a Iaylors snare His Eyes from beauty to his heart drawes lust For which he 's often into prison thrust His Eares giue credit to a knaue or theefe And 's body suffers for his eares beleefe His Tongue much like a Hackney goes all paces In City Country Court and Campe all places It gallops and false gallops trots and ambles One pace or other still it runnes and rambles Of Kings and Princes states it often prattles Of Church and Common-wealth it idly rattles Of passing of it's word and suretiships For which at last the Iayle the Carkasse nips Mans Hands haue very oft against him warr'd And made him of his liberty debarr'd A stab a blow a d●shing of a pen Hath clap'd him closely in the Iaylors den The Feet which on the ground men daily tread The way to their captiuity doe lead Now for the inward faculties I find Some lie in Prison for their haughty mind Some for their folly some because too wise Are mew'd vp in the Iaylors custodies Some for much gaming or for recreation Doe make a Iayle their homely habitation And thus it plainely may be proued well Mans greatest foes within himselfe doe dwell And now two contraries I will compare To shew how like and how vnlike they are A Iayle our birth our death and setting free These foure doe all agree and disagree For all degrees our birth and life we know Is naturall one way for high and low But death hath many thousand waies and snares To take our liues away all vnawares And therefore of our liues it is no doubt That ther 's but one way in and many out But to a Iayle there 's many waies to win Ten thousand tricks and sleights to clap men in And ther 's but one way out as I doe know Which is by satisfying what we owe. O west thou the law thy life dispatch and pay And from the Prison thou art freed away Dost thou owe mony quickly pay thy score And farewell goe thy waies man ther 's the dore As men in all that 's ill are Satans Apes So sundry sinnes bring death in sundry shapes Life from the God of life which is but one To all degrees one way giues life alone And so our seuerall frailties seuerall waies Our wretched Carkasses in prison laies But ther 's but one way out that e're I saw Which is by satisfying of the law The faults we doe in spring-time of our youth In Summer of our man-hood gather growth Then Haruests middle age doth make them ripe Which winters old age doth in prison gripe And thus the very seasons of the yeare Fit emblemes of our thraldome doe appeare In London and within a mile I weene There are of Iayles or Prisons full eighteene And sixty Whipping-posts and Stocks and Cages Where sin with shame and sorrow hath due wages For though the Tower be a Castle Royall Yet ther 's a Prison in 't for men disloyall Though for defence a Campe may there be fitted Yet for offence men thither are committed It is a house of fame and there is in 't A Palace for a Prince a Royall Mint Great Ordnance Powder Shot Match Bills and Bowes Shafts swords pikes lances shouels mattocks crows Bright armor muskets ready still I say To arme one hundred thousand in a day And last it is a Prison vnto those That doe their Soueraigne or his lawes oppose The Gatehouse for a prison was ordain'd When in this land the third king Edward reign'd Good lodging roomes and diet it affoords But I had rather lie at home on boords Since Richards reigne the first the Fleet hath beene A Prison as vpon records is seene For lodgings and for bowling there 's large space But yet I haue no stomacke to the place Old Newgate I perceiue a theeuish den But yet there 's lodging for good honest men When second Henry heere the Scepter swaid Then the foundation of that gate was laid But sixty six yeeres ere our Sauiours birth By Lud was Ludgate founded from the earth No Iayle for theeues though some perhaps as bad That breake in policie may there be had The Counter in the Powltry is so old That it in History is not enrold And Woodstreet Counters age we may deriue Since Anno fifteene hundred fifty fiue For me the one 's too old and one's too new And as they bake a Gods name let them brew Bridewell vnto my memorie comes next Where idlenesse and lechery is vext This is a royall house of state and port Which th' eight king Henry built and there kept Court King Edward somewhat ere his timelesse fall Gaue it a way to be an Hospitall Which vse the city puts it well vnto And many pious deeds they there doe doe But yet for Vagabonds and Runnagates For Whores and idle knaues and such like mates 'T is littell better than a Iayle to those Where they chop chalke for meat and drinke and blowes In this house those that 'gainst their wills doe dwell Loue well a Bride perhaps but not Bridewell Fiue Iayles or Prisons are in Southwarke plac'd The Counter once S. Margrets Church defac'd The Marshalsea the Kings Bench and White Lion Where some like Tantalus or like Ixion The pinching paine of hunger daily feele Turn'd vp and downe with fickle Fortunes wheele And some doe willingly make there abode Because they cannot liue so well abroad Then ther 's the Clinke where handsome lodgings be And much good may it doe them all for mee Crosse but the Thames vnto S. Katherins then There is another hole or den for men Another in East-Smithfield little better Will serue to hold a theefe or paltry debter Then neere three Craues a Iayle for Hereticks For Brownists Familists and Schismaticks Lord Wentworths Iayle within White Chappell stands And Finsbury God blesse me from their hands These eighteene Iayles so neere the City bounded Are founded and maintain'd by