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FROM

ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE.

ADDRESS TO LONDON.

From Greene's & Lodge's Looking-Glass, 1598.*

JONAS, THE PROPHET.

END on in peace, and prosecute this

course,

You Islanders, on whom the milder air

Doth sweetly breathe the balm of kind

increase;

Whose lands are fattened with the dew of heaven,

And made more fruitful than Actean plains!
You, whom delicious pleasures dandle soft,
Whose eyes are blinded with security,
Unmask yourselves, cast error clean aside!
O London, maiden of the Mistress Isle,
Wrapp'd in the folds and swathing clouts of shame,
In thee more sins than Nineveh contains!

Contempt of God, despite of reverend age,

a "A Looking - Glasse for London and Englande. Made by Thomas Lodge, Gentleman, and Robert Greene, in Artibus Magister. London, printed by Thomas Creede, and are to be sold by William Barley, at his Shop in Gracious Street, 1598." 4to.

Neglect of law, desire to wrong the poor,
Corruption, whoredom, drunkenness, and pride!
Swoln are thy brows with impudence and shame.
O proud adulterous glory of the West,
Thy neighbours burn, yet dost thou feel no fire!
Thy preachers cry, yet dost thou stop thy ears;
The larum rings, yet sleepest thou secure!
London, awake! for fear the Lord doth frown;
I set a Looking-glass before thine eyes.
O turn, O turn, with weeping to the Lord,
And think the prayers and virtues of thy Queen,
Defers the plague, which otherwise would fall!
Repent, O London! lest for thine offence
Thy Shepherd fail, whom mighty God preserve,
That she may bide the pillar of his church,
Against the storms of Romish Antichrist!"

The hand of Mercy overshed her head;
And let all faithful subjects say, Amen!

TO LONDON.

OSEAS, THe priest.

INIQUITY seeks out companions still,

And mortal men are armed to do ill:

b Lodge is said to have been a papist: he could not be so, when this was written.

London, look on! this matter nips thee near;
Leave off thy riot, pride, and sumptuous cheer;
Spend less at board, and spare not at the door;
But aid the infant, and relieve the poor:
Else seeking mercy, being merciless,
Thou be adjudg'd to endless heaviness!

TO LONDON.

OSEAS.

WHEN disobedience reigneth in the child,
And princes' ears by flattery be beguil'd;
When laws do pass by favour, not by truth;
When Falsehood swarmeth both in old and youth;
When gold is made a God to wrong the poor,
And Charity exil'd from rich mens' door;
When men by wit do labour to disprove

The plagues for sin sent down by Gods above;
Where great mens' ears are stopp'd to good advice,
And apt to hear those tales that feed their vice;
Woe to the land! For from the East shall rise
A Lamb of Peace, the scourge of vanities;
The judge of Truth, the patron of the Just,
Who soon will lay presumption in the dust;
And give the humble poor their heart's desire,
And doom the worldlings to eternal fire!

Repent, all you that hear, for fear of plagues!

O, London! this and more doth swarm in thee! Repent, repent; for why the Lord doth see. With trembling pray, and mend what is amiss: The sword of justice drawn already is!

TO LONDON.

OSEAS.

WHERE servants against masters do rebel,
The commonweal may be accounted hell:
For if the feet the head shall hold in scorn,
The city's state will fall, and be forlorn.
This error, London! waiteth on thy state!
Servants, amend; and masters, leave to hate!
Let Love abound; and Virtue reign in all:
So God will hold his hand, that threatneth thrall!

TO LONDON.

OSEAS.

IF, warned once, the Ethnics thus repent,
And at the first their error do lament;
What senseless beasts, devoured in their sin,
Are they, whom long persuasions cannot win?
Beware, ye western cities, where the word

Is daily preached both at church and board!
Where Majesty the gospel doth maintain;

Where preachers for your good themselves do pain!
To dally long, and still protract the time,
The Lord is just, and you but dust and slime.
Presume not far; delay not to amend;

Who suffereth long, will punish in the end.

Cast thy account, O London! in this case;

Then judge what 'excuse thou hast to call for grace.

TO LONDON.

OSEAS.

WOE to the trains of women's foolish lust,

In wedlock rights that yield but little trust;
That vow to one, yet common be to all!
Take warning, wantons; pride will have a fall.
Woe to the land, where warnings profit nought,
Who say that Nature God's decrees hath wrought!
Who build on Fate, and leave the corner stone,
The God of Gods, sweet Christ, the only one!
If such excesses, O London! reign in thee;
Repent! for why, each sin shall punish'd be.
Repent, amend, repent; the hour is nigh:

Defer not time! Who knows when he shall die?

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