A mournfull Dittie on the death of certain Judges
and Justices of the Peace, and divers other Gentlemen, who died
immediatly after the Assises, holden at Lincolne last past.
To the tune of Fortune.
|
REcounting griefes and dolors long tyme done,
|
Or blazyng forth the danger none can shon,
|
Might seeme a study altogether vayne:
|
Yet outwarde words oft easeth inward payne.
|
Then patiently my woefull tale attend,
|
Where sorrowe doth each severall peryod end:
|
And every word a bitter sigh doth sound,
|
For those great plagues which we have often found,
|
At Oxford first the justest Judge of all,
|
Our earthly Judges first to count dyd call:
|
And secondly at Excester againe.
|
And last of all did Lincolne witnes plaine.
|
How sore for sinne the Lord offended was,
|
How sore for sinne his wrath from him did pas,
|
And how for sinne the prudent of our land,
|
Hath felt the force of his most heavie hand.
|
Come Shute I saie, make up the number then,
|
Thou worthie Judge among unworthie men,
|
Thy godly zeale and wisedome plaine did show,
|
Thou wast too good for wretched men below.
|
Thy sodaine death at Lincolne Sises wrought,
|
Remaines a terror to each severall thought,
|
Although with life thou didst from thence depart,
|
Yet there did sicknes slaie thy tender hart,
|
And like lament for Hollice may we make,
|
Whose life likewise most cruell death did take,
|
A vertuous man and Justice of the peace,
|
Whom Cressus wealth cannot from grave release.
|
Copartner with these breathles persons here,
|
Lies maister Tyrwhite bound upon the beere,
|
O fickle life, how brittle is thy state,
|
And how uncertaine is thy finall date.
|
And Littlebury, by birth a good Esquier,
|
Whose service then the lawe did well requier,
|
The foreman of a Jurie there was he,
|
Whom death arested with a deadly fee.
|
The skilfull Clarke which to the peace pertaind,
|
That long in credit in the place remaind,
|
Welby I saie, his name was called so,
|
Which at that place receivde a deadly blo.
|
Nor could grave Cauthron scape from cruel death,
|
Though likely long to harber vitall breath:
|
His wit, his wisedome, and his sage advice,
|
With life was lost and turned to a trice.
|
Where should I finde meete wordes for to expresse
|
Our inward woe, our griefe and heavines,
|
For Butlers death, a man of good degree,
|
And for the losse of many more then hee.
|
Let this suffice that our eternall God,
|
In secret wisedome had prepard this rod,
|
For our examples that remaine behind,
|
To cleere our eyes that Sathan so did blind.
|
Thrice in this sort our Judges have bin slaine,
|
At three Assises as is proved plaine,
|
And warning thrice herein our eies have seene,
|
But more then thrice have our offences beene.
|
Some judge of this and some doe judge of that,
|
Some speak and prate, and saie they know not what,
|
Then learne of Christ this lesson tolde to thee,
|
Judge not at all, least that thou judged be.
|
The cause hereof to God is onely knowen,
|
No cause at all by any man was showen,
|
Yet without cause God never wrought the same,
|
As chiefest cause ourselves our sinnes may blame.
|
And like as men by naturall descent,
|
From Adams loines to wicked sinne is bent,
|
So may I saie the Lawyer is not cleere,
|
From vile corruption while he liveth heere.
|
Then they as we must both with one accord,
|
Repent yur sinnes before the mightie Lord,
|
Least in his wrath a greater plague be sent,
|
Ou flintie hearts, that would not once relent.
|
Uprightly deale with everie poore mans cause
|
Against the truth wring not, nor wreast the lawes,
|
And have a conscience in your common fees,
|
For God thou knowst all inward motions sees.
|
Let not your hearts with bribes polute your hands,
|
And by oppression do not inlarge your lands,
|
For cursed gold sell not your soules away,
|
A practise found too common at this day.
|
Have thou an eare unto the wronged wight,
|
Despise not him that simple is in sight,
|
Do right and justice unto each degree,
|
Then in the end thou shalt most blessed bee.
|
And for our Queene of most exceeding fame,
|
Let us desire in Jesus Christes name,
|
That God will still preserve her royall grace,
|
That she may runne a long and joyfull race.
|
|
|
|
|
|