The nine Worthies of London

The nine Worthies of London

Title Page
The nine Worthies of London
Explayning the ho-
nourable exerciſe of Armes, the
vertues of the valiant, and the
memorable attempts of
magnanimious minds.
men, not vnſeemly for Magiſtrates,
and moſt profitable
for Prentiſes.
Compiled by Richard Iohnſon.
[Figure: ]
Imprinted at London by Thomas Orwin for Hum
frey Lownes, and are to be ſold at his ſhop at
the weſt doore of Paules. 1592.

[Blank page]

The Dedication
To the right Honourable ſir Wil-
liam Webbe Knight, Lord Maior
of the famous Citie of London, Ri-
chard Iohnſon, wiſheth health,
with increaſe of
BEING not altogether (right honorable) vnac
quainted with the fame of this wel gouerned ci
tie, the heade of our Engliſh floriſhing common wealth: I thought nothing (conſidering it ſomewhat tou
ched my dutie) could be more accepta
ble to your Honour, then ſuch principles as firſt grounded the ſame as well by do
meſticall policie of peace, as forraine ex
cellence in reſolution of warre. This cauſed me to collect from our London gar
dens, ſuch eſpeciall flowers, that ſauoured as well in the wrath of Winter, as in the pride of Sommer, keeping one equiuo
lence at all kinde of ſeaſons. Flowers of chiualrie (right honorable I meane) ſome that haue ſucked honie frõ the Bee, ſweet-
neſſe from warre, and were poſſeſſed in that high place of prudence, wherof your Lordſhip now partaketh. Other ſome that haue beene more inferiour members, and yet haue giuen eſpecial ayde to the head, beene buckler to the beſt, and therby rea
ched to the aſpiring toppe of armes : If your Lordſhip ſhall but like of it, procee
ding from the barren braine of a poore apprentice, that dare not promiſe moul
hils, much leſſe mountaines, I ſhall thinke this by-exerciſe, which I vndertooke to expell idleneſſe, a worke of worth, what
ſoeuer the gentle cauld kind, that are vn
gently inkindled, ſhall with oſtentation inueigh. Theſe (right Honorable) the nine VVorthies of London , now vnable to defend themſelues, ſeeke their protection vnder your gracious fauour : and the Authour pricked on by Fame , to be patronagde for his willing labour, whereof not miſdoub
ting, I humbly commit your Honour to the defence of heauen, and the guider of all iuſt equalitie:
Your L in all humble dutie to be commaunded.
Richard Iohnſon.

To the Gentlemen Readers
To the Gentlemen Readers, as well
Prentices as others.
AL is not gold (Gentlemen) that gliſters, nor all droſſe that makes but a darke ſhew: ſo ſhould copper ſome time be currant, & pearles of no price. Aeſope for all his crutchback, had a quick wit. Cleanthes , though in the night he caried the watertankard, yet in the day would diſpute with Philoſophers. A meane man may look vp
on a king, and a wren build her neſt by an Egle. In the games of Olympus , any man might trie his ſtrength: and when Apelles liued others were not forbid to paint: So gentlemen, though now a dayes many great Poets flouriſh (from whoſe eloquent workes you take both pleaſure and profite) yet I truſt inferiours (whoſe pens dare not compare with Apollos ) ſhall not bee contemned or put to ſilence. Euery weede hath his vertue, & ſtudious trauaile (though with
out ſkill) may manifeſt good will. Vouchſafe then intertainment to this new come gueſt, his ſimple truth ſhewes he is without deceyte, and his plaine ſpeech proues, he flatters not. He can
not bThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)o1aſt of Art, nor claime the priuiledge of ſcholaſtiacall cunning: what he ſayth is not cu
rious, being without any great praemeditation, or practiſe, more then his neceſſarie affaires would permit. If his vnpolliſhed diſcourſes may merit the leaſt motion of your good liking, let the enuious fret, and the captious malice melt themſelues, neither the obiection of Me
chanicall, by ſuch as are themſelues diaboli
call, whoſe vicious baſeneſſe in a ſelfe con
ceyte preſuming aboue the beſt, is in deede but the dregges and refuſe of the worſt, nor the re
proch of prouerbiall ſcoffes as (Ne ſutor vltra crepidam) ſhall diſcorage me from proceeding to inuent how further to content you. And ſo truſting to my fortune, and ending in my hap,
neither diſpairing of your cenſures, nor
fearing what the maleuolent
can inflict.
Yours to commaund as he may.
Richard Iohnſon.

A Catalogue
A Catalogue or briefe Table, declaring
the names of theſe worthie men,
and when they liued.
Firſt. SIr VVilliam VValworth Fiſhmonger, in the
time of Richard the ſecond.
Second. Sir Henrie Pitchard Vintener, in the time
of Edward the third.
Third. Sir VVilliam Seuenoake Grocer, in the time
of Henrie the fift.
Fourth. Sir Thomas VVhite Marchant-tailer, in the
time of Queene Marie.
Fift. Sir Iohn Bonham Mercer, in the time of Ed-
the firſt.
Sixt. Sir Chriſtopher Croker Vintener, in the time
of Edward the third.
Seuenth. Sir Iohn Haukwood Marchant-tailer, in
the time of Edward the third.
Eight. Sir Hugh Cauerley Silke-weauer, in the time
of Edward the third.
Ninth. Sir Henrie Maleueret Grocer, in the time
of Henrie the fourth.

[Blank page]

The nine worthies of London
The nine worthies of London,
explaying the honourable exerciſe
of Armes, the vertues of the valiant, and the
innumerable attemptes of Magnanimious
WHat time Fame began to feather her ſelfe to flie, and was winged with the laſting memorie of mar
tiall men, the Oratours ceaſt per
ſwaſiue Orations, the Poets neglected the pleaſures of their Poems, and Pallas her ſelf would haue nothing painted vpon her ſhield but Mottoes of Mars , and ſhort emblemes in honour of noble atchiuements. Then the aſhes of auncient Uictors without ſcruple or diſdaine had ſepulture in rich and golden monuments: and they that reacht the height of honour by worthie déedes, had their former baſeneſſe, ſhadowed by deſerts. Fame then fearing that her honour would faint, and her armour ruſt (for though ſhe fauoured all profeſſions, yet ſhe chiefly dignified armes) on a ſodaine, mounted into the ayre, and neuer ſtayed the ſwiftneſſe of her flying courſe, vntill ſhe pitched her feete vpon Parnaſſus forked toppe, whoſe ſpringing Lawrels gaue ſhade, & ſhelter to her wearineſſe. This was the fruitfull place where ſhe plotted her flowrie garlands, to crown the temples of vertuous followers, and wreathes of renowme to illuſtrate vndaunted courages. Here like
wiſe remained her chiefe ſecretaries the ix. Muſes, as in a ſeate of moſt pleaſure beſt befitting their diuine perfecti
ons, whoſe neceſſarie aydes ſhe alwayes craued, when occa-
ſion miniſtred any thing worthy record: and though the wholeſome freſhneſſe of the ayre, the gréeneneſſe of the valleys, the comfortable odours of ſundry ſorts of flowers, the pride and bewtie of the trées, the harmonious layes of Nightingales & other birds, the variable delights of artifi
ciall bowers, and the muſicall murmures of Chriſtall run
ning fountaines, might wel haue inchaunted the rougheſt Cyaink, or crabbedſt Malecontent to cheare vp his ſpirits, and baniſh melancholy paſſions, yet this Goddeſſe preten
ding buſineſſe of importance, had ſuch a care to effect it, as that ſhe would not be ouercome with pleaſure, nor yeeld to eaſe, (though in reaſon her laborious trauell did require reſt) but painfully paſſing vp and downe, was not moued with the one, nor maiſtred with the other. At laſt as her buſie eye pried euery way, ſhe eſpied a path of Uiolets, whoſe tops were preſſed downe with the ſteps of ſuch as had lately paſſed that way: by this ſhe coniectured the Nymphes were not farre off, and therefore following the tract their féete had made vpon the flowers, ſhe was quick
ly brought to the head of Hellicon, where, in an arbour of Eglantine, aud damaſke Roſe trees, one twiſted ſo cun
ningly within another, as hard it was to iudge whether nature or arte had beſtowed moſt to the bewtifying of that bower. She found the Muſes euery one ſeriouſly applying their ſeuerall exerciſes, whom when they ſaw (hauing ſalu
ted her with a dutifull reuerence) ſtoode attentiue (being well aſſured her comming was not without cauſe) what charge ſhe would giue, or what ſhee would commaund to be regiſtred. To whome Fame, to the intent they might not long bee in ſuſpence about her ſodaine approch, as well for that her buſineſſe was impatient of delay, as to reſolue their earneſt expectation, ſpake in this ma
You néed not muſe (gracious nurces of learning) at my preſence in this place, becauſe I vſe not oftentimes to viſit you, nor trouble your minds wt ambiguous imaginations concerning my purpoſe, ſince I ſeldome craue your furthe-
rance but for memorable accidents: notwithſtanding, for the varietie of matter requires not alwayes one forme, and ſtill with proceſſe of time as mens maners change, our me
thod alters, you ſhall perceyue I am not now to begin: but to reuiue what ignorance in darknes ſeemes to ſhadow, & hatefull obliuion hath almoſt rubbed out of the booke of ho
nour. It is not of Kinges and mightie Potentates, but ſuch whoſe vertues made them great, and whoſe renowne ſprung not of the noblenes of their birth, but of the notabThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on evidence internal to this text (context, etc.). (MS)l2e towardneſſe of their well qualified mindes, aduaunced not with loftie titles, but prayſed for the triall of their heroycal truthes: of theſe muſt you indite, who though their ſtates were but meane, yet dooth their worthie proweſſe match ſuperiours, and therefore haue I named them Worthies. Nine were they in number, their Countrie England, the Citie they liued in famous London, famous in deede for ſuch men, and yet forgetfull to celebrate the remembrance of their names, and negligent, (I may ſay) in performing the like attempts, hauing for imitation ſuch goodly preſi
dents as theſe to ſupplie them that want, with wiſedome, and with better inſtruction. I am determined to diſcourſe againe what I haue often bruted, thereby to ſtirre vp ſluggards, and to giue ſecure worldlings to vnderſtande (who extends no further then for wealth, and whoſe hearts ſuppoſe a heape of coine the greateſt happines) that the cen
ſure of honour ought to increaſe, when as by ſubſtance they ariſe to authoritie, and none ſo abiect but may be made a ſubiect of glorie and magnanimitie, if ſo thereunto they will bend their endeuours.
For performance hereof, I knowe my theame ſo large, and copious, as all your wits might ingenerall be imployed to dilate and expreſſe the ſame, yet onely Clio ſhall be ſuf
ficient, whome alone I make choiſe off, the rather becauſe it chiefly concernes hir, and ſo beckning towards her with her head, made an end of her ſpeach.
She had no ſooner ſayd, but all the reſt as ſatiſfied in that they deſired to know, preſently caſt down their lookes,
that were before ſtedfaſtly fixed vpon the browes of Fame, and began to turne to their labours, which all this while by reaſon of her talke they had intermitted, onely Clio claſping vp her booke of famous hyſtories, and taking her golden pen in hand, roſe from the ſeate where ſhe ſate, and leauing her ſiſters with due reuerẽce, was readie to folow Fame where ſo euer ſhe would conduct her.
At the doore of the enterance into the Arbour, there ſtoode a ſiluer chariot drawne by the force of Pegaſus, which Fame of purpoſe had prouided, becauſe Clio therein might the bet
ter keepe wing with her. Into the which ſhe was no ſooner mounted, but ſtraightway as ſwift as the burning dartes of Iupiter, they made their paſſage through the ſubtle ayre, vntill they ſoared ouer the hollow vault, through which the way leadeth down to the rule of vnder earth: there Clio pul
led her rayne, and with a headlong fall (according to her guides direction) neuer ſtaied vntill the ſtéely houſe of Pe
did beate againſt the gates of Tartara, where being receyued in, they left the crooked thornie way ſmoking with ſulpher, and neuer ceaſing contagious vapours, and kept directly on the other ſide, which delighted their eyes with ſo many glorious ſights, that before they knew it, they were arriued vnder the Eleſian ſhades: where when the Goddes had remained a while, diſcourſing with her companion the ſeuerall habitations, as that of louers in ſwéete groues of muſke ſhe ſpide at laſt the place where Electrum growes, ſwéetned continually with burning baulme boughes, with which braue ſouldiours, and warlike cauilliers cured their ranck ſcatres. There did ſhee ſhake her bright immortall wings, and with the melodious noyſe, and with the ſweet breath was fanned frõ thoſe Phoenix feathers ſhe awaked nine comely knights, ý arme in arme vpon a greene banke, ſtrewed with Roſe buddes, had laid their conquering heads to reſt in peace.
This, quoth ſhe is the fartheſt end of our iourney, here muſt we take our ſtations for a while, and thoſe whom thou ſeeſt eleuating their bodies from the ground, from whoſe
browes ſparkle gleames of immortall glorie, are the nine worthy Champions I told you of, whom, as by my power I haue awaked: ſo will I cauſe to ſpeake and declare their owne fortunes, onely be thou attentiue, and ſet down with thy pen, what thou ſhalt heare them ſpeake: and ſo cõming, to the firſt, which was a tall aged man, his haire as white as ſnow, vpon his backe a ſcarlet robe, his temples bound about with baulme, and in his hand a bright ſhining blade: ſhe toucht his lippes with her finger, and ſtraightway his tongue began to vtter theſe words.
Sir William Wallworth
Sir William Wallworth Fiſhmon-
ger, ſometime Maior of London.
WHat I ſhall ſpeake, ſuppoſe it is not vaine,
Nor thinke Ambition tunes my ſounding voyce;
It bootes not clay to ſtand on glorious gayne,
An other place bereaues vs of that choyce:
For when the Pompe of earthlie pleaſures gone,
Our goaſts lie buried vnderneath a ſtone.
Nor when I liu’d carpt I at Phoebus light
My deeds did paſſe without comparing pride,
Who ſhone the leaſt (mee thought apear’d more bright)
I wiſht it ſecret what the world diſcride,
Nor would now ſhewe (fayre Goddeſſe but for thee,)
The charge beſeemes an other and not mee.
To ouerpaſſe then how I was inſtaul’d
To weare the purple robe of Maieſtrate,
It ſhall ſuffice I ſu’de not, but was calde,
Of Fortunes gifts let baſer minds relate:

In ſuch a time it was my chaunce to ſway,
When riches quaild, and Vertue wonne the day.
In Richards Raygne the ſecond of that name
Of Londons weale Liefetenant to his Grace,
Wallworth was choſe vnworthie of the ſame
Within his hand to beare the Cities mace:
To Fiſhmongers the honour did redownd,
Whoſe brotherhood was my preferments grownd.
Theſe were not dayes of peace but broyling warre,
Diſſention ſpred hir venom through the land,
And ſtird the Prince and ſubiect to a iarre
Hated loue, Rigor dutie did withſtand:
In ſuch a tempeſt of vnbridled force,
As manie loſt their liues without remorſe.
For by a taxe the King requirde to haue,
The men of Kent and Eſſex did rebell,
Their firſt Decree concluded none to ſaue
But hauocke all, a heauie tale to tell:
And ſo when they were gatherde to a head,
Towards London were theſe graceleſſe Rebels ledd.
What ſpoyle they made in Countries as they came,
How they did rob and tyrranize in pride,
The widowes cries were patterns of their ſhame,
And ſanguin ſtreames of infants blood beſide:
For like the ſea when it hath caught a breach,
So ruſht theſe Traytors, paſt compaſſions reach.
So deſperate was their rage as they preuailde,
And entered the Citie by the ſword,
The towre wals were mightely aſſayld,
And priſoner there made headleſſe at a word:
Earles manner houſes were by them deſtroyd,
The Sauoy and S. Iones , by Smithfield ſpoyld.

All men of law that fell into their hands
They left them breathleſſe weltering in their blood,
Ancient records were turn’d to firebrands,
Anie had fauour ſooner then the good:
So ſtout theſe cutthrotes were in their degree,
That Noblemen muſt ſerue them on their knee.
In burning and in ſlaughter long they toyld,
That made the King and all his traine agaſt,
Such rancour had their ſtomackes ouerboyld
They hopte to get the Soueraignitie at laſt:
In deede his Maieſtie was young in yeares,
Which brought diſtreſſe to him and to his Peeres.
Yet with a loyall guard of bils and Bowes
Collected of our talleſt men of trade,
I did protect his perſon from his foes,
Where there preſumption trembled to inuade:
It yerkt my ſoule to ſee my Prince abuſde,
In whoſe defence no danger I refuſde.
In theſe extreames it was no boote to fight,
The Rebbels marched with ſo huge an hoſt,
The King crau’d Parley by a noble Knight
Of ſterne Wat Tiler ruler of the roſt:
A countrie Boore, a goodlie proper ſwayne,
To put his Countrie to ſuch wretched payne.
This Ruſtick ſcoft at firſt the Kings requeſt
Yet at the laſt he ſeem’d to giue conſent,
Aleaging he would come when he thought beſt:
T’is well (quoth he) is all their courage ſpent:
Ile make them on their bended knees intreat,
Or caſt their bodies in a bloodie ſweat.
Begirt with ſteele, our gownes were laid apart,
Age hindred not, though feeble were my ioynts.

T’would make a fearefull coward take a heart
When Prince oppreſt a Countries cauſe appoyntſ:
Who would refuſe, and death or grieuous paine
To follow him that is his Souenaygne?
The place appoynted where to meete theſe mates
(That like audatious peſſants did prepare,
As if their calling did concerne high ſtates,
With braſen lookes deuoyd of awfull care)
Was Smithfeeld, where his Maieſty did ſtay,
An howre ere theſe Rebels found the way.
At laſt the leaders of that brutiſh rowt
Iacke Straw , Wat Tiler , and a number more,
Aproacht the place with ſuch a yelling ſhowt,
As ſeldome had the like been heard before:
The King ſpake faire, and bad them lay downe armes,
And he would pardon all their former harmes.
But as fierce Lions are not tam’d with words,
Nor ſauage Monſters conquered but by force,
So gentleneſſe vnſhethes a Traitors ſword,
And fayre perſwaſions makes the wicked worſe:
His clemencie prouoake, and not diſmaide,
Becauſe of them, they thought the King affraide.
And as a witneſſe of their inward vice
Their tongues beganne to taunt in ſawſie ſort,
Obedience bluſht, and Honour loſt her price,
A modeſt ſhame forbids the fowle report:
How Preſumption made theſe Caitifes ſwell,
As if the Diuels did bellowfoorth of Hell.
Their loathſome talke inkindle, angers fire
And fretting paſſions made my ſinewes ſhake,
T’was death to me to ſee the Baſe aſpire:
Such woundes would men in deadlie ſlumber wake.

Yet I refrainde, my betters were in place,
It were no maners Nobles to diſgrace.
But when I ſaw the Rebels pride encreaſe,
And none controll and counterchecke thier rage,
T’were ſeruice good (thought I) to purchaſe peace,
And malice of contentious brags aſſwage:
With this conceyt all feare had taken flight,
And I alone preſt to the traitors ſight.
Their multitude could not amaze my minde,
Their bloudie weapons did not make me ſhrinke,
True valour hath his conſtancie aſſignde,
The Eagle at the Sunne will neuer winke:
Amongſt their troupes incenſt with mortall hate,
I did areſt Wat Tiler on the pate.
The ſtroke was giuen with ſo good a will,
It made the Rebell coutch vnto the earth,
His fellowes that beheld (t’is ſtrange) were ſtill
It mard the manor of their former mirth:
I left him not, but ere I did depart,
I ſtabd my dagger to his damned heart.
The reſt perceiuing of their captaine ſlaine,
Soone terrified did caſt their weapons downe,
And like to ſheepe began to flie amaine,
They durſt not looke on Iuſtice dreadfull frowne.
The king purſude, and we were not the laſt,
Till furie of the fight were ouerpaſt.
Thus were the mangled parts of peace recurde;
The Princes falling ſtate by right defended;
From common weale all miſchiefe quite abiurde,
With loue and dutie vertue was attended.
And for that deed that day before t’was night,
My king in guerdon dubbed me a knight.

Nor ceaſt he ſo to honour that degree.
A coſtly hat his highneſſe likewiſe gaue,
That Londons maintenance might euer be,
A ſword alſo he did ordaine to haue,
That ſhould be caried ſtill before the Maior,
Whoſe worth deſerude ſucceſſion to that chaire,
This much in age when ſtrength of youth was ſpent,
Hath Walworth by vnwonted valour gaind,
T’was all he ſought, his countrey to content.
Succeſſe hath fortune for the iuſt ordaind,
And when he died, this order he began,
Lord Maiors are knights their office being done.
WOrthily had this father of his Countrie the for
moſt place in this diſcourſe, whoſe valerous at
tempts may be a light to all enſuing ages, to lead them in the darkeneſſe of all troubleſome times, to the reſurrection of ſuch a conſtant affection as will not faulter or refuſe any perill to profite his Countrey and purchaſe honour. Such was his deſert, as euen then when good men diſpaired of their ſafetie, and the verie pillars of the common wealth tottered: his courage redéemed the one, and vnderpropped the other: Martialiſts and patrones of magnanimitie, trembled at that which he beyond all expec
tation aduentured. Let enuie therefore retract the malice of her bliſtring tongue, which heretofore (and now not a litle) ſtriueth by her contentious and ripening nature to obſcure the brightneſſe of their praiſe, and ſcoffe at their ingenious diſpoſitions, whoſe education promiſeth ſmall: But yet when occaſion hath required, haue performed more then they whoſe brags haue vapord to ye clouds. I wiſh the like mind, and the like loyaltie in all thoſe that make the Citie the Nurſe of their liues, and ſubiect of their fortunes, that London may continue ſtil that credite to be called the great chamber of her kings, and the key of her Countreys bliſſe. But to procéede, Fame hauing marked the grauitie, elo
quence, and orator-like geſture of this good knight during the continuance of his talke, was ſo well pleaſed as ſhee vowed to erect his ſtature, where in ſpight of al contrarious and maleuolent blaſts of vertues carpers, it ſhould ſtande immoueable: and Clio that had pend his ſpeach, grieued ſhe had not leyſure (as ſhe deſired, and he deſerued) to ſet down his actions in better and more ample maner: for alreadie another of the knightly crew ſtood vp readie to delate what Fame expected: therefore ſhe was forced to let it ſomewhat rawly paſſe, hoping that the excellency of the matter, would excuſe the rudenſſe of the rime.
The next being a man whom nature had likewiſe bew
tified with the colour and badge of wiſedome and autho
ritie, as one on whom a greater power then Fortunes faig
ned deitie had beſtowed, the fulneſſe of worldly treaſure, and heauens perfection, beganne accordingly to frame his tale.
Sir Henrie Pitchard Knight
THe potter tempers not the maſſie golde,
A meaner ſubſtance ſerues his ſimple trade,
His workemanſhip conſiſtes of ſlimie molde,
Where any plaine impreſſion ſoone is made:
His Pitchards haue no outward glittering pompe,
As other mettels of a finer ſtampe.
Yet for your vſe as wholſome as the reſt,
Though their beginning be but homely found,
And ſometime they are taken for the beſt,
If that be precious that is alwayes ſound.

From gould corrupting poyſons do infect,
Where earthen cups are free from all ſuſpect
So cenſure of the Pitchard you behould,
Whoſe glorie ſpringes not of his lowlie frame,
Though he be clay he may compare with gould
His properties nere felt reproachfull ſhame:
For when I firſt drew breath vpon the earth,
My mind did beawtifie creations byrth.
I dare not ſing of Mars his bloodie ſcarres,
It is a ſtile too high for my conceipt,
Yet in my youth I ſerued in the warres,
And followde him that made his foes entreat:
Edward the third the Phoenix of his time,
For life and prowes ſpotted with no crime.
From France returnd, ſo well I thriu’d at home,
As by permiſſion of celeſtiall grace,
I roſe by that men termd blind Fortunes dome
To ſuch a loftie dignitie of place:
As by election then it did appeare,
I was Lord Maior of London for a yeare.
I vſde not my promotion with diſdaine,
Nor ſuffred heapes of coyne to fret withruſt,
I knew the ende of ſuch a noble gaine,
And ſaw that riches were not giuen for luſt:
But for reliefe and comfort of the poore,
Againſt the ſtraunger not to ſhut my doore.
I could repeate perhaps ſome liberall deedes,
But that I feare vaine-glories bitter checke,
His plenties want, his harueſt is but weedes,
That doth in wordes his proper goodneſſe decke:
It ſhall ſuffice he hath them in recorde,
That keepes in ſtore his ſtewards iuſt reward.

Yet for aduauncement of faire Londons fame,
I will omit one principall regarde,
That ſuch as heare may imitate the ſame,
When auarice by bountie ſhall be barde:
Rich men ſhould thinke of honour more then pelfe,
I liu’d as well for others as my ſelfe.
When Edward triumpht for his victories,
And helde three crownes within his conquering hand,
He brought rich Trophies from his enemies,
That were erected in this happie land:
We all reioyc’d and gaue our God the praiſe,
That was the authour of thoſe fortunate dayes.
And as from Douer with the prince his ſonne,
The King of Cypres , France , and Scots did paſſe,
All captiue priſoners to this mightie one,
Fiue thouſand men, and I the leader was,
All well preparde, as to defend a fort,
Went foorth to welcome him in martiall ſort.
The riches of our armour, and the coſt·
Each one beſtowd in honour of that day,
Were here to be expreſt but labour loſt,
Silke coates and chaines of golde bare little ſway:
And thus we marcht accepted of our King,
To whom our comming ſeemd a gracious thing.
But when the Citie pearde within our ſights,
I crau’d a boune ſubmiſſe vpon my knee,
To haue his Grace, thoſe Kings, with Earles and knights,
A day or two to banquet it with me:
The king admirde, yet thankefully replide,
Vnto thy houſe both I and theſe will ride.
Glad was I that ſo I did preuaile,
My heart reuiud, my parts (me thought) were young,

For cheare and ſumptuous coſt no coine did faile,
And he that talkt of ſparing did me wrong:
Thus at my proper charge I did retaine
Foure kings, one prince, and all their royalltraine.
Yet lo this pompe did vaniſh in an houre,
There is no truſting to a broken ſtaffe,
Mans carefull life doth wither like a flower,
The deſtenies do ſtroy what we do graffe:
For all his might, my gold wherewith I pleaſde,
Death tooke vs both and would not be appeaſde.
Of all there now remaines no more but this,
What vertue got by toyling labours paine,
To ſhrine our ſpotleſſe ſoules in heauenlie bliſſe,
Till to our bodies they returne againe.
What elſe we find is vaine and worthleſſe droſſe,
And greateſt getting but the greateſt loſſe.
AFter that Clio had writ what this famous knight had tolde, ſhee no little wondred at his modeſt audacitie. Therefore ſhe ſayde this to Fame, Renowmed Goddeſſe enemie to the fatall ſiſters, aud onely friend to the good de
ſeruerſ: it were beſéeming thy excellencie to procéede al
togither with the honourable acts of theſe memorable men, and onely touch their vertuous endeuours, whereunto the Goddeſſe condiſcended: and ſéeing another lift vp his head, as if he were deſirous to ſpeake: Fame heartned him on with ſmiling countenance to ſay as followeth.

Sir William Seuenoake.
MY harmeleſſe byrth miſfortune quite contemd,
And from my pappe did make my youth a pray,
So ſcarcely budd, my branches were vnſtemd;
My byrth howre was Deathes blacke and gloomie day:
Had not the higheſt ſtretched forth his might
The breake of day had beene the darkeſt night.
Some Monſter that did euie Natures worke
(When I was borne in Kent ) did caſt me foorth
In deſert wildes, where though no Beaſt did lurke
To ſpoyle that life, the Heauens made forwoorth:
Vnder ſeauen Oakes yet miſchiefe flung me downe,
Where I was found and brougha vnto a towne.
Behold an ebbe that neuer thought to flowe;
Behold a fall vnlikelie to recouer;
Behold aſhrub, a weed, that grew full lowe;
Behold a wren that neuer thought to houer:
Behould yet how the higheſt can commaund,
And make a ſand foundation firmelie ſtand.
For when my infants time induſte more yeares
After ſome education in the ſchoole,
And ſome diſcretion in my ſelfe appeares
With labor to be taught with manuall toole:
To learne to liue, to London thus being found,
Apprentiſe to a Groſer I was bound.
To pleaſe the honeſt care my maſter tooke,
I did refuſe no toyle nor drudging payne,

My handes no labor euer yet forſooke
Whereby I might encreaſe my maſters gayne:
Thus Seuenoake liud (for ſo they cald my name,)
Till Heauen did place mee in a better frame.
In time my prentiſe yeares were quite expirde,
And then Bellona in my homelie breſt,
My Countries honour with her flames had firde,
And for a Souldior made my fortune preſt:
Henry the fift my King did warre with France ,
Then I with him his right to readuance.
There did couragious men with loue compare
And ſtriue by armes to get their Prince renowne,
There ſillie I like thirſtie ſoule did fare
To drinke their fill, would venter for to drowne:
Then did the height of my inhaunſt deſire,
Graunt me a little leaſure to aſpire.
The Dolphyne then of Fraunce a comelie Knight,
Diſguiſed, came by chaunee into a place,
Where I well wearied with the heare of fight,
Had layd me downe (for warre had ceaſt his chace)
And with reproachfull words, as layzie ſwaine,
He did ſalute me ere I long had layne.
I knowing that he was mine enemie
A bragging French-man (for we tearmd them ſo,
Ill brookt the proud diſgrace he gaue to me,
And therefore lent the Dolphyne ſuch a blow:
As warmd his courage well to lay about,
Till he was breathleſſe (though he were ſo ſtout.)
At laſt the noble Prince did aſke my name,
My birth, my calling, and my fortunes paſt,
With admiration he did heare the ſame,
And ſo a bagge of crownes to me he caſt:

And when he went away he ſaide to mee,
Seauenoake be prowd the Dolphyn fought with thee.
When Engliſh had obtainde the victorie,
We croſſed backe the grudging ſeas againe,
Where all my friends ſuppoſed warre to be
For vice and follie, virtues onelie bane:
But ſee the ſimple how they are deceaude,
To iudge that honour, Honour hath bereaud.
For when my Souldiors fame was laid aſide,
To be a Grocer once againe I framde,
And he which rules aboue my ſteps did guide,
That through his wealth Seuenoake in time was famde
To be Lord Maior of London by degree,
Where iuſtice made me ſway with equitie.
Gray haires made period vnto honours call,
And froſtie death had furrowed in my face,
Colde Winter gaſhes, and to Sommers fall,
And fainting nature left my mortall place:
For with the date of fleſh my life decayde,
And Seuenoake dide: (for euery flower muſt fade.)
By Teſtament in Kent I built a towne,
And briefly calde it Seuenoake , from my name,
A free ſchoole to ſweete learning, to renowne
I placde for thoſe that playde at honours game:
Both land and liuing to that towne I gaue,
Before I tooke poſſeſſion of my graue.
Thither I bare my fleſh, but leaue my fame,
To be a preſident for London wights,
And you that now beholde faire Vertues maime,
Thinke he is happie for his Countrey fights,
For, for my guerdon to this pleaſant field,
My carkas did my dying ſpirit yeeld.

BY that time this famous man had thus innobled his name by telling his nature, the pitifull and louely Muſe had delated at large his eternall honour, hauing in no part béene nigardly of his prodigall prayſe: but Fame diſmiſſing him to his former reſt, hard by a ſtill ſiluer ſtreame that beate warbling Ecchoes into the vaultie bankes, whereas deceaſſed Sea-nymphes vſe to ſport, preſ
ſing his manlike paulme vpon the ground, hee bent his comely bodie to the earth: where not as poſſeſſed with heauineſſe, but with Paradice-like ioy he ſafely and ſwéett
ly repoſed his comely limbes: like as the woonted Martia
liſts of former memorie were accuſtomed to doe, when re
turning from hot encountred broyles, they vnbuckled their ſteeld encloſures to enioy the freſh and delightſome breath of peace. There they yt woonted to be of Pans muſical Parliament, fayre Forreſters and carrolling ſhéepheards, delighted, and almoſt inchaunted with this Champions ſtorie, thought to preſent him with ſome ſhort recreation, therefore vpon a buſh of Iuniper brambles where Philo
had ſet her ſpeckled breaſt, they all at once did beate with ſiluer wingſ: then from this ſwéete ſauouring thic
ket rowſed the tripping Deare, and after them the nimble footed Fawne, wreſtling together, once ouertaken with pleaſing and delectable ſport, rubbing their horned browes vpon their ſweete twined bowers, this did they do in fauour of his birth, being cõmitted to their gouernments before his mothers milke had made him blithe.
This paſtime put the famous Seuenoake in minde of his beginning, how Nature firſt had inniciated her worke in miſerie, and ended it in miracles, not arguing herein her vnconſtant kinde, but her prouident foreſight to withſtand the miſchiefe of all miſfortuneſ: and whileſt Fame with her admiring Muſe was buſied in poſing the reſt, this me
ritorious man did pleaſe himſelfe with this Poem.
WHere Fortune had her birth the Sunne ſate downe,
Yet gaue no liuing glorie to the childe,

She grew and gaue the God a golden crowne,
It pleaſed him not, for he was euer milde:
Yet drew ſhe diſpoſition from his throne,
That without her no wight can moue alone.
Then he betooke him to his former meditation, from whom he was firſt awaked: when another knight of that aduaunced crew, was by Fame aſſigned to ſpeake, called ſir Thomas White, the Goddeſſe cleaped him, who lifting vp his aged limmes, yet not decayed, ſayd as followeth.
Sir Thomas White
WHyte is my name, and milke white are my haires,
White were my deedes, though vaine is proper praiſe,
White for my countrie were my kind affayres,
White was the rule that meaſurd all my dayeſ:
Yet blacke the mould that coutcht me in my graue,
By which more pure my preſent ſtate I haue.
I cannot ſing of armes and blood-redwarres,
Nor was my colour mixt with Mars his hew:
I honour thoſe that ended Countrey iarres,
For therein ſubiects ſhew that they are trew.
But priuately at home I ſhewde my ſelfe,
To be no louer of vaine worldly pelfe.
My deedes haue tongues to ſpeake though I ſurceaſe,
My Orator the learned ſtriue to bee,
Becauſe I twined paulmes in time of peace,
And gaue ſuch gifts that made faire learning free:
My care did build them bowers of ſweete content,
Where many wiſe their golden time haue ſpent.

A noyſe of gratefull thankes within mine eares,
Deſcending from their ſtudies (glads my heart)
That I began to wiſh with priuate teares,
There liued more that were of Whites deſert:
But now I looke and ſpie that time is balde,
And Vertue comes not, being ſeldome calde.
But ſith I am awaked not to waile,
But to vnfolde to Fame my former life.
I muſt on forward with my ſingle tale,
For ſorrow will but breake the heart with ſtrife,
White is no warriour (as I ſayd before,)
Nor entred euer into daungers doore.
The Engliſh Cities and incorporate townes,
Doe beare me witneſſe of my Countreys care,
Where yearely I doe feede the poore with crownes,
For I was neuer niggard yet to ſpare,
And all chiefe Burrowes of this bleſſed land,
Haue ſomewhat taſted of my liberall hand.
He that did lend to me the grace of wealth,
Did not beſtow it for to choake with ſtore,
But to maintaine the needie poore in health,
By which expence my wealth encreaſed more,
The oyle of gladneſſe euer chear’d my hart,
Why ſhould I not then pitie others ſmart.
Lord Maior of London I was cal’d to bee,
And Iuſtice ballance bare with vpright hand:
I iudg’d all cauſes right in each degree,
I neuer partiall in the law did ſtand:
But as my name was White ſo did I ſtriue,
To make my deedes whileſt yet I was aliue.
But my prefixed fate had twinde my thread,
And White it was, and therefore beſt ſhe like it,

She ſet her web within a loome of lead,
And with her baulme of grace ſhe ſweetly dight it:
And with conſent her ſiſters gaue this grace,
That White ſhould keepe his colour in this place.
WHen this aged knight had peaceably (obſeruing de
with his paſſed ſtate) tolde his plaine and vn
poliſhed tale, in all points like himſelfe, clothed with the faſhion of his minde, vpon a bed of Lillies hee layde him downe, whoſe colour anſwerable to his ſnowie beard, made them take eſpeciall delight in the ſimpathie of their quali
tie. Then ſayde Clio, thou faire and ſwift foote Goddeſſe, winged with the Doue, and eyed with the Eagle, let me bee boldned (with thy fauour) to demaunde one queſtion, which of all this noble companie, ſhall next dilate his life. Sweete Muſe (quoth Fame) this knight, pointing to ſir Iohn Bonham, ſometimes apprentice to a Marchant in Lon
don. Your deitie, ſayde Clio then (vnder correction) will miſtake the placing. For this gallant liued in England in the time of Edward the firſt, & we are alreadie come downe ſo farre as Quéene Marie. Therein, ſayde Fame, wee doe preferre their age, and the honour of their calling’, before the obſeruation of time which derogates from no other courſe then that which ſometimes our Poets haue vſed, placing e
uer the worthieſt formoſt, as to induce the reſt by example, not to be ſtarke for want of courage. Therefore it ſhall not be vncomly or prepoſterous when the yonger knights ſhall ſpeake after thoſe that bare the honour of the Maioraltie.
This excuſe wel contented the labouring Muſe, who fra
ming her golden pen in her fingers, fixed it ready to her me
moriall leaues, whileſt Fame did rouſe this worthie from his reſt. A man of ſtature meane, in countenance milde, in ſpeach man-like, and in performance couragiouſ: his beard Abron, and his bodie bigge, and thus he began, when Fame had giuen him caueat to ſpeake.

Sir Iohn Bonham knight
LEt them that pull their quils from Griffons wings,
And dippe them in the bloud of Pagans bane,
Let them deſcribe me from the breſt that ſings,
A Poem of bloudie ſhowers of raigne:
And in my tale a mournefull Eleagie,
To ſuch as do the lawes of God denie.
A gentleman I am of gentle blood,
A Knight my Father was, yet thought no ſcorne
To place his ſonne within a prentiſe hood,
For nature will appeare as ſhe was borne:
A Deuonſhire man to London loe I came,
To learne to traffique of a Marchant man.
Shortelie from thence to Denmarke was I bound,
Well ſhipt with ware my maſter gaue in charge,
I deemd the water better then the ground,
And on the ſeas a man might ſee at large:
Me thought that Fortune there might flie her fill,
And pitch and light vpon what place ſhe will.
Ariud at laſt, in Denmarke was I ſett,
Where Bonham did demeane himſelfe ſowell,
That though ſome ſtrangers there had pitcht a nett
To catch my feete, themſelues therein ſoone fell:
And ſuch diſhonour dropt vpon their head,
As they their natiue Countrie quicklie fled.
My worthleſſe Fame vnto the King was brought,
Who ſhewd himſelfe both mild and debonare,

A cauſe of gracious kindnes ſtill he ſought,
And for my Countrey did commend my care:
And though I ſay it, that might better ceaſe,
Bonham did purchaſe fame, and loues encreaſe.
A vertuous Ladie, and a curteous prince,
This famous king vnto his daughter had,
Hir countenance did the baſer ſort conuince,
Yet did ſhe bare her gently to bad:
Such was her beautie, ſuch was her grace and fauour,
That watchfull Enuy no way could depraue her.
Excepting ſtill the praiſe of Proſerpine ,
I may a little glance vpon her grace,
The words ſhee ſpake did euer ſeeme diuine,
And Nature choſe her alters in her face:
Where in the day her golden flames do burne,
And they that gaze ſhall frie except they turne.
There bodies once conſum’d, loue tooke their ſoules,
And there ſatte binding them within her haire,
She neede not frowne, her ſmootheſt lookes controles,
See how ſhee ſlayes, yet dooth the guiltleſſe ſpare:
Guiltleſſe they are that dare not ſtay ſo long,
To heare the muſick of inchaunting ſong.
Should I but ſpeake the words vnto her face,
Perhaps you would ſuppoſe I flatter her,
If ſo I haue too long vpheld the chace,
And negligentlie ſpard the pricking ſpurre:
In whoſe ſweete praiſe I end not yet begunne,
Becauſe my lame conceipt wants feete to runne.
Who will not iudge the braueſt Denmarke Knights,
Will cracke their Lances in her proud defence,
And now by this a troope of worthie wights
Prepared Iuſtes, her beawtie to incence:

And vnto me vnworthie me ſhe gaue,
A fauour to adorne my courage braue.
I know your ielouſlie will iudge me nowe,
And ſay I praiſ’d her for her fauours ſake,
Alas he lookes not vp, is bound to bowe,
A Ceader neuer ſpringeth from a Brake :
It pleaſd her well age not diſpleaſed mee,
Why then ſhould Enuie ſtill with Honour bee.
They that haue guiders cannot chuſe but runne,
Their Miſtreſſe eyes doe learne them Chiualrie ,
With thoſe commaunds theſe Turneys are begunne,
And ſhiuerd Launces in the ayre do flie:
No more but this, there Bonham had the beſt,
Yet liſt I not to vaunt how I was bleſt.
Each Knight had fauour bound to his deſart,
And euerie Ladie lent her loue a ſmile,
There boldly did I not my ſelfe inſert,
Nor ſecret practiſe did my pride compile:
But of her ſelfe the gentle Princeſſe gaue
Rewarde of Honour vnto me her ſlaue.
In fine my Maſters ſhippe with goods were fraught,
And I deſirous to returne agayne,
For all the fauours that my Fortune wrought,
Vnto my Maſters buſineſſe was no mayne:
But ſo occaſion truſty friend to time,
Prepard me ſteps, and made mee way to clime.
Great Solimon the Turkiſh Emperor ,
Made ſodaine warres againſt the Daniſh King,
And moſt vnlike a noble Emperour
Did ſpoyle and ruine to his confines bring:
A thing vnlike, yet truth to witneſſe call,
And you ſhall finde hee made mee Generall.

A puiſſant armie then was leThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)ui3ed ſtraight,
And ſkilfull pilats ſent to guide my ſhip,
Imagin but a Chriſtians deadly hate,
Againſt the heathen that our blood doth ſip.
Then thinke how Bonham bent againſt the Turke,
Wrought wonders by the high almighties worke.
Halfe of his armie ſmouldred with the duſt,
Lay ſlaughtred on the earth in gorie blood,
And he himſelfe compeld to quell his luſt,
By compoſition for his peoples good
Then at a parlie he admirde me ſo,
He made me knight, and let his armie go.
He gaue me coſtly robes, and chaines of golde,
And garded with his Gallies ſent me backe:
For Fame vnto the Daniſh King had tolde,
My gotten glorie, and the Turkiſh wracke:
He gaue me gifts in guerdon of my fight,
And ſent me into England like a knight.
How I was welcomd there t’were vaine to tell,
For ſhortly after life had runne his race,
And hither was I ſummoned to dwell,
My other fellow Worthies to embrace:
Thus gently borne, a Marchant by my trade,
And in the field Bonham a knight was made.
CLio with the ſtraungeneſſe of this report, was wrapt ſo much into admiration (both in reſpect of his feature, fortune and faire tongue) as ſhe ſéemed caſt into a traunce, neuer remoouing her eyes from of his youthfull face, till Fame perceyuing her déepe cogitations, put herforth of her dumps, by aſking her why ſhe pawſed ſo long, her chaſt eyes (it appeared) hauing all this while ſéene no other but ſuch, whoſe countenance reſembled winters froſts, began now with the chearefull heate of this flowring ſpring, to
waxe warme with ſecrete working of ſome amorous paſ
ſion to excuſe with ſuſpition (for it ſtoode with her cre
dite not to bée faultie in any ſuch idle toy) ſhee anſwe
red, it was not the inticement of any miſbeſeeming phan
taſie that allured her to that ſodaine ſilence, but onelie a kinde of conceyte ſhee foſtered, howe it coulde be poſſible that the Turke being a man of nature barbarous and cru
ell, and eſpecially towardes Chriſtianſ) ſhould nowe bee ſo much mollifyed, and brought from his wonted fierce
neſſe, to fauour and honour one, whome by by nature hee loathed and deteſted. For what though Bonhams valour had gotten that aduantage, as by reaſon and law of armes he might inforce the Turke confeſſe, the ſafegarde of his life depended on his clemeneie, yet ſince the brutiſhneſſe of that nature eſteemeth of vertue but to ſerue their owne luſt and profite, I ſée no argument of likelihoode, why the Turke hauing his aduerſarie in his Court, that a little before had made him bowe, not with gentle per
ſwaſions, bue with downe-right ſtrokes, ſhould not ra
ther bée incenſed to cutte off his head, then doe him the leaſt good in the world: ſo ſeuere is the regarde of honour, as rather then it will be vpbrayded with diſgrace (though that diſgrace were cauſe of many incomparable plea
ſureſ) no hatefull, vnnaturall, or vngratefull practiſe ſhall be attempted, til the eyeſore of their grudging heart be re
moued, and Princes if they cannot heare words, much leſſe will put vp wounds, and that was it (quoth ſhe) that trou|bled my ſerious Muſe.
As theſe wordes Fame began to frowne, her pacience was prouoked, that one ſo well inſtructed in the know
ledge of ſuch matters as ſhée was (her whole ſtudie con
ſiſting of nothing elſe but of ciuill diſcipline) ſhould make a doubt in ſo ſlender a contrarietie, yet to cutte off fur
ther protraction of time, ſhee replyed her this reſolution: that ſhee was ſure ſhée could not be ignoraunt, howe that it was the affect of vertue that wrought ſuch an altera
tion in the Turke, which, as it is diuine, deſcended from
the Goddeſ: ſo it worketh beyonde the expectation of men. And for proofe thereof, alreadie ſundrie authori
ties were alledged, as that of Dyoniſius whoſe murthe
rous minde coulde not but reuerence Plato, although hee continually inueighed bitterly agaynſt his tyrannie, and that of Alexander, who loued Darius for his fortitude, although hee was his enemie. Therefore it ought not ſeeme miraculous vnto her, when vſually ſuch accidents, as thoſe followe Vertues fauouriteſ: But (quoth ſhe) I rather thinke you were amazed to heare ſuch rare exploits procéede from a Prentice, and one of no more experience: but let not that ſeeme ſtraunge, hee ſpake no more then truth, nor all that might be ſayd concerning his haThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)wg4htie endeuours: the other foure whom you ſee on his left hand, will (if you ſeeme incredulous) confirme a poſſibilitie in his ſpeaches: they are of the like condition and qualitie as he was, prentices that purchaſed eſtimation by the ſworde. Clio bluſhed that ſhee had beene ſo inquiſitiue: but as it may be coniectured, it was not ſo much for her owne ſatiſ
faction, as to take away hereafter all controuerſie, and néedleſſe cauillation as might concurre by the curious view of ſuch as ſhoulde fortune to haue the reading of her lines. By this ſir Iohn Bonham had coucht himſelfe againe in the bedde of his ſecure reſt, when another gay knight, ſterne in his lookes, and ſtrong ſet in his limmes, carying in his browes the picture of Mars, and in his maners the maieſtie of a Prince, with a lowe ſalutation made himſelfe knowne by this briefe oration.
Sir Chriſtopher Croker knight of London Vintner.
T is not birth that makes a man renownde,
Nor treaſures ſtore that purchaſeth our fame,

Bigge words are but an emptie veſſels found,
And death is better then a life with ſhame.
This proueth Croker in his trauailes made,
Of London once a Vintner by his trade.
In Graciouſ-ſtreete there was I bound to ſerue,
My maſters name hight Stodie in his time,
From whom in dutie I did neuer ſwarue,
Nor was corrupted with deteſted crime:
My education taught me ſo to liue,
At by my paines my maiſters purſe might thriue.
My fellow ſeruants lou’d me with their heartſ;
My friends reioyc’d to ſee me proſper ſo,
And kind Doll Stodie (though for ſmall deſertſ)
On me vouchſaft affection to beſtow:
Whoſe conſtancie was ſuch that for her ſake,
No toyle was grieuous I did vndertake.
Such was my ſtate as I my ſelfe could wiſh,
Deuoid of care, not toucht with egThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)re5 want,
My ſleepe ſecure, my foode choiſe bewties diſh,
Onely in this my pleaſure ſeemed ſcant,
That I vnable was her ſtate to raiſe,
That was the lengthner of my happie dayes.
Whilſt thus I was perplexed owth that thought,
Behold how Fortune fauourde my deſire,
Of ſodaine warres the ioyfull newes was brought,
And Edward ayde of Souldiers did require,
Amongſt the reſt it fell vnto my chaunce,
That I was preſt to follow him to Fraunce .
My maſter would haue ſewd for my diſcharge,
His daughter with her teares gan me aſſaile,
On euery ſide they prayd and promiſt large,
But nothing could in that reſpect preuaile:

Such thirſt of honour ſpurd my courage on,
I would to warres although I went alone.
My forwardneſſe perceyu’d, my valour knowne,
Ouer a band of Souldiors I was chiefe,
Then ſproute the ſeedes that were but lately ſowne,
My longing ſoule had quickly found reliefe:
I ſparde no coſt, nor ſhrunke for any paine,
Becauſe I ment my Loue ſhould reape the gaine.
To proue my faith vnto my Countries ſtay,
And that a prentice (though but ſmall eſteemd,)
Vnto the ſtouteſt neuer giueth way,
If credite may by triall be redeemd:
At Burdeaux ſiege when other came too late,
I was the firſt made entrance through the gate.
And when Don Peter driuen out of Spaine,
By an vſurping Baſtard of his line,
He crau’d ſome helpe his crowne to reobtaine,
That in his former glorie he might ſhine:
Our king ten thouſand ſeuerd from his hoſt,
My ſelfe was one, I ſpeake it not in boaſt.
With theſe Don Peter put the Baſtard downe,
Each Citie yeelded at our firſt approch,
It was not long ere he had got the crowne,
And taught his wicked brother to encroch:
In theſe affaires ſo well I ſhewd my might,
That for my labour I was made a knight.
Thus labour neuer looſeth his reward,
And he that ſeekes for honour ſure ſhall ſpeed,
What crauen mind was euer in regard?
Or where conſiſteth manhood but in deed?
I ſpeake it that confirmd it by my life,
And in the end Doll Stodie was my wife.

This Worthie hauing finiſhed his taſke ſette downe by Fame, to confirme the order of his firſt honour, repoſed himſelfe amongſt the reſt, where he found a ſweete mur
muring of priuate and ſecrete conference what had paſſed by the ſeuerall annotations of euerie ones prayſe, where they beganne (contemning the order of enuie) to colaude the endeuours of one anothers actions, none particularly arrogating in arrogancie the prayſe of himſelfe, to him that did moſt, they gaue moſt applauſe, and ſo ſwéetly concor
ded in ſimpathie, that all the Eleſian harmonie might haue liberally commended their conditions: the huſhing riuers were caulme without murmur or contempt: the leaues ſtood ſtill to admire theſe famous enterpriſes, and excellent at
chieuements: the windes bound themſelues vp in the con
tentation of voluntarie ſtilneſſe, that they might be at liber
tie to hearken to theſe meritorious men, and yeelded them praiſe condeſcending to their paines. The Goddeſſe of darkneſſe (for enuie approched not the place, ſo that it was by that meanes continually day) whereby the Sunne was euer glorious in the pride of his height without grudging or any ſhew of declining: the bright ſhining of whoſe allu
ring countenance inticed another up, called ſir Iohn Hauk
, or ſir Iohn Sharpe, from the Italians, Iohn Acute, and from thence indéed he brought backe into England both his name and his nobleneſſe. The pictures of his renowne, for as an emblem of endleſſe honour, the Venecians wrought vnderneath his ſtature, ſet vp in the citie, Giouanno Acuto Caualiero. This Iohn Haukwood knight, he liued likewiſe in the time of Edward the third, that Prince of famous me
morie: when he pleſantly looked about him, being a man of a moſt couragious countenance, and an ingenious na
ture, thus he beganne to ſpeake, as who ſhould ſay he had wrong to be deferred ſo long.

Sir Iohn Haukwood knight.
WHo knowes my ofſpring, doth not know my prime,
Who knowes my birth, perhaps will ſcorne my deedes,
My valour makes my vertue more then ſlime,
For that ſuruiues though I weare deaths pale weedes:
Ground doth conſume the carkas vnto duſt,
Yet cannot make the valiants armour ruſt.
After that eighteene yeares had toucht my head.
Being a Printice boy in Lumbard ſtreete,
A Taylor by my trade, and I had lead
A few wilde yeares for ſtriplings farre vnmeete:
A Souldior I was preſt to ſerue in Fraunce ,
The Prince of Wales mine honour to inhaunce.
I ſerude as priuate ſouldiour for a while,
Till courage made me greedie of renowne,
And cauſde me giue a noble man the foile,
That though with ſturdie Launce did beare me downe,
On foot that day my ſelfe did keepe in chace,
Some worthie knights that feard to ſhew their face.
That day the Prince of Wales ſurnamde the blacke,
Did mount me on a gallant Engliſh ſteed.
Where I beſtirde me ſo vpon his backe,
That none incountred me that did not bleed,
It was not I, nor Fortune , nor my fate,
His hand it was that ſeldome helpes to late.
His be the honour then, and his the prayſe,
Yet haue I leaue to ſpeake what Haukwood did,
When noble Edward had diſperſt the rayes,
And by his prowes of the French was rid.

Three more then I (my ſelfe did make the fourth)
The gentle Princes then duThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)bd6 knights of worth.
His knights he tearmd This text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)v7s ſtill amongſt the reſt,
And gaue vs honour fitting our eſtate,
For England to be bound it ſeemd him beſt,
Becauſe the French had ſwallowed Edwards baite:
I tooke my leaue, and begged on my knee,
That I might wander other parts to ſee.
The Prince inkindled with my honours heate,
Diſcharging me, beſtowde on me a chaine,
For ſtill freſh courage on my heart did beate,
Which made me loue, and womens acts refraine:
Hearing the Duke of Millaine was diſtreſt,
To Italie my voyage their was preſt.
The Seas I quickly paſt, and came to ſhore,
With me were fifteene hundred Engliſh men,
We marcht to Millaine walles, where we had more
Of other nations to conioyne with them,
There did the Italians tearme me Iohn Acute ,
Becauſe I had their foes in ſuch purſute.
Caſtels and towers I had for my reward,
And got enough to pay my men withall:
But I to hired pay had no regarde,
That prickt me on which climbs the higheſt wall,
Honour and Fame , whereof they gaue me ſtore,
Which made me more audacious then before.
Millaine thus peac’d, the Pope oppreſſed Spaine ,
Then thither was I ſent to quell his pride:
Which being done I did returne againe,
And ſtoopt with age, in Padua Palace did:
And he that yet will heare of Iohn Acute ,
In Millaine ſhall not find the people This text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)mute8.

All warres you ſee do ende as well as peace,
And then remaineth but a tumbe of duſt,
A voyce of Fame , a blacke and mourning hearce,
To what then may we like this worldly luſt:
It is an euill vapouring ſmoke that fumes,
Breaths in the braine, and ſo the life conſumes.
WHen ſir Iohn Haukwood had boldly preſumed by Fames authoritie to ſpeake, be layde him dawne like one that wreaked no guerdon for this grace, but as if Na
brought him foorth of dutie to performe theſe deedes. So ought euery martiall minde imagine, that he is borne for his Countrey, as the cuſtome of the ancient and famous Romains was in all their actions, to ſtudie to redounde the honour of their déedes to their Countrey. If this were am|bition and pride, it would be laid flat in the duſt, magnani
mitie extolled to the higheſt tip of dignitie, and ſuch a ſweet concord and vnitie amongſt men, that be would be counted moſt happie that liued longeſt, for the profite of his friend: when ſir Iohn Haukwood of this perfection of minde had layde him downe againe, another of the ſame ſtampe cal
led ſir Hugh Caluerley, as little ambitious as his fellowe, and as reſolute in euerie degrée, aroſe, looking about him, being ignoraunt what to doe: but Fame iogging him on the elbowe ſoone awaked him from his maze, whoſe ſup
poſe was his deſert, which made him couet to bee ob
ſurde. Therefore the Goddeſſe was faine to animate him on further, before he would be perſwaded to ſpeake. Gentle he was and full of humanitie, inſomuch that hee might haue wunne all the powers of that place to admire the baſeneſſe of his profeſſion being a weauer. But they that haue honour harbouring in their breaſts, cannot but giue him the right of his due, except the traine of enuie ſet vpon the traine of honour, as commonly it doth, if it do ſee he that ſhal for himſelfe, and appeale to the moſt preciſe, whoſe wits being more buſie then beautified with moral maners, thruſt boldly, yet ignorantly vpon the well trained ſort, ap

proching famous perſwaſion he began as ſodainly as hee aroſe ſodainly, as if now life had newly reuiued, began to breath this gentle breath from out his mouth.
Sir Hugh Caluerey knight.
WHo feares to ſwim a riuer dreads the ſea,
But he that’s beſt reſolu’d dare venture both,
The greateſt lumpe doth not the greateſt die,
Baſe mettals to compare with golde are loth:
And why my quiet wit refraines to ſpeake,
Is this becauſe the talleſt ſhip may leake.
In England late yong Cauerley did liue,
Silke-weauers honour merited by deedes,
In forraine broyles continually I ſtriue
Of laſting memorie to ſow the ſeedeſ:
As by experience they in Poland may
Expreſſe my Engliſh valour euery way.
After my Princes ſeruice done in France ,
I was entreated to the Poliſh King,
Where as the Frizeland horſe doth breake the launce,
And tameleſſe beaſts a valiant race doth bring:
There Maximilian hunted with his Lords,
Entangling mankind Beares in toyling cords.
There did I bring a Boare vnto the bay,
That ſpoyld the pleaſant fields of Polonie ,
And ere the morning parted with her gray
The foming beaſt as dead as clay did lie:
The Ladies cheekes lookt red with chearefull blood,
And I was much commended for that good.

Some ſayd I looked like Olympian Ioue ,
When as he crackt in two the Centaurs bow,
As ſwiftly footed as the God of Loue,
Or greene Syluanus when he chaſt the Roe:
They brought me crownes of Lawrell wreathd with gold,
The ſweet and daintieſt tongues my prayſes told.
Theſe fauours fronted me with courage frowne,
That like the yong Alcides I did looke,
When he did lay the greedie Lion downe.
No beaſt appeard when I the woodes forſooke,
So that the King ſuppoſd I was ſome wight,
Ordaind by heauen to expell their flight.
In ſcarlet and in purple was I clad,
And golden buſkins put vpon my feete,
A caſket of the richeſt pearles I had,
And euery Noble gently did me greete.
So with the King I rode vnto the court,
Where for to ſee me many did reſort.
At Iuſtes I euer was the formoſt man,
In field ſtill forward, Fame can witneſſe it,
And Cauerley at tilt yet neuer ran,
But foming Steed ſo champed on the bit:
But ſtill my horſe his maſters valour ſhewd,
When through my Beavir I with heat had blood.
Yet men of armes, of wit, and greateſt ſkill,
Muſt die at laſt when deaths pale ſiſters pleaſe,
But then for honour Fame remaineth ſtill,
When dead delights in graue ſhall find their eaſe:
Ye long to know the truth in Fraunce I dThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)id9e,
When from the valiant Polands I did riThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)de.10
Now honour let me lay me downe againe,
And in thy pillow reſt my wearie head,

My paſſed prayſe commaunds my ſoule remaine,
Wheerin theſe roſie bowers, with ſweet dew fed:
Though I was valiant, yet my guiltleſſe blood,
In crueltie of warre I neuer ſtood.
THus this aduenturous Martialiſt hauing expreſt the zeale of his conſcience towards his Countrey, the toyle and labour hee ſuſtained to better the credite of his firſt cal
ling, and the perils he waded through to patronage the an
cient name of Citizens, he repoſed himſelfe againe downe by the ſides of his noble warre-fellowes.
Thus Fame and Clio (the one hauing marked his amiable partes and knightly geſture, the other delineated with her pen the eloquence of his oratour-like Oration) queſtioning togither ſome fewe poynts, concerning the force of va
lour, & the vertuous inclination of many obſcure perſons, that although they lie ſepulcured (as it were) without re
ling, and the perils he waded through to patronage the an
garde, yet if oportunitie fitte them to reuiue their courage, will (like the Diamond racked out of clay) excell, or at leaſt compare with the brightneſſe of glories. Rareſt iewels concluded that there was no pernition but by vertue, no climbing to honour but by Fortitude, and none baſe, abiect and ignoble but the vicious ſlouthfull, & faintharted milke
ſops. They were not wearyed, nor ſéemed theſe former knights tales tedious vnto them, although many would thinke it a paine to bee tied to the hearing of ſo large a cir
cumſtance, and verie few but would exclaime it were plaine ſlauerie to write ſuch and ſo many ſeuerall conceytes from the mouthes of the ſpeakers. Yet ſuch was their deſire to publiſh theſe mens deſerts, and the delight they tooke to ſée the increaſe ſpring of the ſeedes of vertue, for they would not take the ſmalleſt recreation, till euery one of the nine had fully finiſhed their diſcourſes, and therefore they atten
ded when the laſt would breath the ſecrets of his breaſt.
This was a Printice as the reſt, and a Grocer, ſometime dwelling in Cornehill, his face was not effeminate, or his parts of a ſlender or weake conſtitution, but by his lookes
be ſeemed couragious, and in the height, ſtrength, and faire proportion of his body, victorious. Thus being in al points armed like a champion, the verie aſpect of his outwarde a
bite, made ſemblance both of manhood and curteſie, wiſe
dome and valour, knit in ſuch a ſimpathie of operation, that he ſéemed as much to bee loued for peace, as prayſed for prowes: and thus with a voyce neyther too meane like a child, nor too big like a gyant, but indifferent betwixt both, he ſpake as followeth.
Henry Maleueret Grocer, ſurna
med Henrie of Cornhill.
A Precious cauſe hath ſtill a rare effect,
And deedes are greateſt when the daungers moſt,
It is no care that trauels dooth neglect,
Nor loue that hath reſpect to idle coſt:
A Bramble neuer bringeth forth a Roſe,
Where fields are fruitfull there the Lillie growes.
By this coniecture what may be the end,
Of his defenſiue force that fought for Chriſt,
It is no common matter if we ſpend
Both life and goods in quarrell of the hieſt:
The leaſt deſert dooth merit his reward,
And beſt employde ſhould haue not worſt regard.
No vaine preſumption followes my deuiſe,
For of my actions t’is in vaine to boaſt,
Yet with the Pagans I encountred twiſe,
To winne againe faire Sion that was loſt:
Vnto which warre I was not forſt to go,
T’was honours fire that did incenſe me ſo.

For when the Iewes oppreſt with heathens pride,
Of Chriſtian princes craude ſome friendly ayd,
In euery Countrey they were flat denide
Saue that in England here their ſute preuailde:
Such was the furie of inteſtiue ſtrife,
All Europe ſought to ſpoyle each others life.
And as in London there was order tane
To make prouiſion for the holy land,
My youthfull mind that fearde no forraine bane,
Was ſo admirde by might of conquering hand:
As for a ſingle combate they did ſee,
Th’ambaſſadours made ſpeciall choyſe of mee.
Then for the Tankerd I did vſe to beare
And other things belonging to mine art,
Mine hand did weeld Bellonas warlike ſpeare,
For I was armde in ſteele to play my part:
A long we went to beard our daring foes,
That ſoone were queld with terrour of our blowes.
I neuer left the field, nor ſlept ſecure,
Vntill I ſawe Hieruſalem regainde,
To watch and labour I did ſtill endure,
What iſt that diligence hath not obtainde?
Yet grudging enuie valour to deface·
By treaſons malice brought me indiſgrace.
The good that I had done was cleane forgot,
Ingratitude preuailde agaynſt my life,
And nothing then but exile was my lot,
Or elſe abide the ſtroke of fatall knife:
For ſo the ruler of the Iewes concluded,
His Grace by This text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)falſe11 reports was much deluded.
There was no ſtriuing in a forraine ſoyle,
I tooke it patient though tߴwere cauſeleſſe done,

And to auoyde the ſtaine of ſuch a foyle,
That ſlaunderous tongues had wickedly begunne,
Where to the holy well of Iacobs name,
I found a caue to ſhroude me from their blame.
And though my bodie were within their power,
Yet was my minde vntouched of their hate.
The valiant faint not, though that fortune lower,
Nor are they fearefull at controlling fate:
For in that water none could quench their thirſt,
Except he ment to combate with me firſt.
By that occaſion for my pleaſures ſake,
I gaue both Knights and Princes heauie ſtrokes,
The proudeſt did preſume a draught to take
Was ſure to haue his paſſeport ſeald with knocks:
Thus liuߴd I till my innocence was knowne,
And then returnde, the king was penſiue growne.
And for the wrong which he had offerd me,
He vowde me greater friendſhip than before,
My falſe accuſers loſt their libertie,
And next their liues, I could not chalenge more:
And thus with loue, with honour, and with fame,
I did returne to London whence I came.
THis valerous champion (hauing here made an end) bowed himſelfe. Then Fame with her owne hand gent
ly laid his head vpon a ſoft downy pillow wrought with gold, and ſet with pearle, and ſo leauing him and the reſt to the happineſſe of their ſwéete ſléepe, commanded Clio to claſpe vp the booke, wherein ſhe had wriThis text has been supplied. Reason: The ink has faded, obscuring the text. Evidence: The text has been supplied based on an external source. (MS)tten12 the deedes of theſe nine Worthies, and as her leyſure ſerued her, to pub
liſh it to the viewe of the world, that euery one might read their honourable actions, and take example vp them to fol
low vertue, and aſpire to honour, and the rather (quoth ſhe) becauſe I would haue malicious mindes that enuye at the
deſerts of noble Citizens, by proofe of theſe mens worthi
neſſe to repent their contempt, and amend their captious diſpoſitions, ſéeing that from the beginning of the world, and in all places of the world, Citizens haue flouriſhed and béene famous, as in Rome, Caeſar, in Athens, Themiſtocles, and in Carthage, Hannibal, with an infinite number more, that were by byrth Citizens, vp nature martiall, and by in
duſtrie renowned: and ſo they departed from Eliſian:
and within a while after, Clio according to the
charge was giuen her, ſent forth
this pamphlet of her
F I N I S.


  1. Faded ink. (MS)
  2. Faded ink: missing letter obvious from context. (MS)
  3. Faded ink. (MS)
  4. Faded ink. (MS)
  5. Faded ink. (MS)
  6. Faded ink. (MS)
  7. Faded ink. (MS)
  8. Faded ink. (MS)
  9. Faded ink. (MS)
  10. Faded ink. (MS)
  11. Faded ink. (MS)
  12. Faded ink. (MS)

Cite this page

MLA citation

Johnson, Richard. The Nine Worthies of London. The Map of Early Modern London, edited by Janelle Jenstad, U of Victoria, 26 Jun. 2020,

Chicago citation

Johnson, Richard. The Nine Worthies of London. The Map of Early Modern London. Ed. Janelle Jenstad. Victoria: University of Victoria. Accessed June 26, 2020.

APA citation

Johnson, R. 2020. The Nine Worthies of London. In J. Jenstad (Ed), The Map of Early Modern London. Victoria: University of Victoria. Retrieved from

RIS file (for RefMan, EndNote etc.)

Provider: University of Victoria
Database: The Map of Early Modern London
Content: text/plain; charset="utf-8"

A1  - Johnson, Richard
ED  - Jenstad, Janelle
T1  - The Nine Worthies of London
T2  - The Map of Early Modern London
PY  - 2020
DA  - 2020/06/26
CY  - Victoria
PB  - University of Victoria
LA  - English
UR  -
UR  -
ER  - 


RT Web Page
SR Electronic(1)
A1 Johnson, Richard
A6 Jenstad, Janelle
T1 The Nine Worthies of London
T2 The Map of Early Modern London
WP 2020
FD 2020/06/26
RD 2020/06/26
PP Victoria
PB University of Victoria
LA English
OL English

TEI citation

<bibl type="mla"><author><name ref="#RICH6"><surname>Johnson</surname>, <forename>Richard</forename></name></author>. <title level="a">The Nine Worthies of London</title>. <title level="m">The Map of Early Modern London</title>, edited by <editor><name ref="#JENS1"><forename>Janelle</forename> <surname>Jenstad</surname></name></editor>, <publisher>U of Victoria</publisher>, <date when="2020-06-26">26 Jun. 2020</date>, <ref target=""></ref>.</bibl>