A most notable Example of an ungracious Son, who in the pride of his heart denyed his owne Fathe[r]
and how God for his offence, turned his meat into loathsome Toades. To the tune of Lord Darley.
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I N searching famous Chronicles,
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it was my chance to reade
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A worthy story strange and true,
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whereto I tooke good heed,
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Betwixt a Farmer and his Sonne,
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this rare example stands;
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Which well may move the hardest hearts
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to weepe and wring their hands.
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The Farmer in the Country dwelt,
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whose substance had none end;
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He sent therefore his eldest Sonne,
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in Paris for to dwell,
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Where he because a Marchant man,
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and trafficke great he used,
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So that he was exceeding rich,
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till he himself abused.
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For having now the world at will,
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his mind was wholly bent:
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To gaming, wine, and wantonnesse,
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till all his goods were spent.
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Yea such excessive riotousnesse
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by him was shewed forth,
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That he was three times more in debt,
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then all his wealth was worth.
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At length his credit cleane was crackt,
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and he in Prison cast:
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And every man against him then
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did set his action fast.
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There lay he lockt in yrons strong,
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for ever and for aye,
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Unable while his life did last,
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his grievous debt to pay.
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And living in this carefull case,
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his eyes with teares bespent:
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The lewdnesse of his former life,
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too late he did repent.
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And being voide of all reliefe,
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of helpe and comfort quite;
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Unto his Father at the last,
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he thus began to write.
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Bow downe a while your heedfull eares,
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my loving Father deare:
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And grant I pray in gracious sort,
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my pitious plaint to heare.
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Forgive the foule offences all
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of thy unthrifty Sonne:
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Which through the lewdnesse of his life,
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hath now himselfe undone.
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O my good Father, take remorse
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on this my extreme need,
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And succour his distressed state,
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whose heart for whe doth bleed.
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In direfull dungeon here I lye,
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my feet in fetters fast:
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Whom my most cruell Creditors
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in Prison so have cast.
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Let pity therefore pierce your brest,
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and mercy move your minde:
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And to release my misery,
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some shirt, sweet Father, find.
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My chiefest cheere is bread full browne,
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the boords my softest bed:
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And flinty stones my pillowes serve
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to rest my troubled head.
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My garments all are worne to rags,
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my body starves with cold:
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And crawling vermine eates my flesh,
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most grievous to behold.
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Deare Father, come therefore with speed
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and rid me out of thrall:
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And let me not in Prison dye,
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sith for your helpe I call.
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The good old man no sooner had,
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perused this written scrowle:
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But trickling teares along his cheekes,
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from watry eyes did roule.
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Alas my sonne, my sonne, quoth he,
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in whom I joyed most,
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Thou shall not long in Prison be,
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what-ever it me cost.
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Two hundred heads of well fed beasts,
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he changed them for gold:
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Foure hundred quarters of good Corne,
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for silver eke he sold.
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But all the same could not suffice,
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this haynous debt to pay.
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Till at the length constrain'd he was
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to sell his Land away.
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Then was his sonne released quite,
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his debt discharged cleane:
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And he likewise as well to live,
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as he before had beene.
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Then went his loving Father home,
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who for to helpe his sonne,
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Had sold his living quite away,
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and eke himselfe undone.
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So that he lived poore and bare,
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and in such extreme need,
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That many times he wanted food,
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his hungry corps to feed.
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His son meane time in wealth did swim,
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whose substance now was such,
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That sure within the City then,
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few men were found so rich.
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But as his goods did still encrease,
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and riches in did slide:
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So more and more his hardned heart
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did swell in hatefull pride:
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But it fell out upon a time,
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when ten yeeres woe was past,
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Unto his sonne he did repaire,
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for some reliefe at last.
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And being come unto his house,
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in very poore array:
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It chanced so, that with his sonne
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great States should dine that day.
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The poore old man with hat in hand,
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did then the Porter pray,
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To shew his sonne that at the gate
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his father there did stay.
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Whereat this proud disdainefull wretc[h]
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with taunting speeches said:
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That long agoe his Fathers bones
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within his grave were laid:
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What Rascall then is that (quoth he)
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that staineth so my state?
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I charge thee Porter presently,
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to drive him from my gate.
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Which answer when the old man hea[rd]
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he was in mind dismayd:
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He wept, he waild, he wrung his hand[s]
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and thus at length he said,
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O cursed wretch and most unkind,
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the worker of my woe,
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Thou monster of humanity,
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and eke thy fathers foe:
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Have I beene carefull of thy case,
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maintaining still thy state:
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And dost thou now so doggedly
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inforce me from thy gate:
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And have I wrong'd thy brethren all
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from thrall to set thee free:
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And brought my selfe to beggers state
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and all to succour thee?
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Woe worth the time when first of all
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thy body I espide,
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Which hath in hardnesse of thy heart,
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thy Fathers face denide.
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But now behold how God that time
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did shew a wonder great:
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Even where his son with all his frien[ds]
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were settled downe to meat.
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For when the fairest pye was cut,
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a strange and dreadfull case,
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Most ugly Toades came crawling
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and leaped at his face.
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Then did this wretch his fault conf[ess]
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and for his Father sent,
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And for his great ingratitude,
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full sore he did repent.
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All vertuous Children learne by th[is]
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obedient hearts to shew:
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And honour still your Parents deare
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for God commanded so.
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And thinke how he did turne his [meat]
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to poysoned Toades indeed,
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Which did his Fathers face deny,
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because he stood in need.
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