A larume belle for London, with à caueat or warning to England also a pitifull complaint of the penitente synner, newlie set forthe by Ihon Carre, citezein of London.

A larume belle for London, with à caueat or warning to England also a pitifull complaint of the penitente synner, newlie set forthe by Ihon Carre, citezein of London.

Table of contents

Title page

§

¶A caueat or warnyng to Englande.

The penitent synner.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

A Larume Belle for London, with à caueat or warning to England: also a pitifull complaint of the penitente synner, newlie set for the by Iohn Carre, Citezein of London. ❀

¶Imprinted at London, by Henry Kirckham, at the signe of the blacke Bole, at the little North doore of Poules. 1573.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

FOR thee O London I lament,

And wring my hāds with mourning chere

Because that thou wilt not repent,

Seyng thy destruction draweth nere.

If it be true as scriptures tell:

Thy synnes will sincke thee doune to hell.

The vices whiche in thee are vsed,

To tedious are for me to tell:

Thy noble fame is sore abused,

By those whiche in thee now doe dwell.

Whereby I see thy greate decaie,

That God doeth threaten thee eche daie.

The vice of pride hath tane suche place,

That it can not be rooled out:

And hath continued so long space,

That of Gods ire thou hast no doubt.

And suche a place pride doeth supplie,

That from thee it will neuer flie.

For like a weede it vp doeth spryng,

It is not set nor sowen at all:

The whiche good herbes & fruictes will bryng

Ere thei be ripe vnto a fall.

To cut it doune it is no boote,

Except ye cleane plucke vp the roote.

[Page]

For where this wéede doeth spring & grow

Good fruictes can not there prospere well:

Because that cruelnesse so doeth flowe,

That verteous herbes it doeth excell.

Whiche weede we maie cōpare to pride,

That causeth vertue awaie to slide.

So likewise Pride in London now,

Doeth florishe in suche goodly sorte:

That thei muent whiche waie and how,

Thereby augmented it might be.

And nothyng doe regarde at all,

That Pride in the ende will haue a fall.

Consider well that Pride hath been,

The fall of many cities greate:

And Sodom sonke for suche like synne,

As sacred scriptures doeth repete.

Gomorrha eke came to decaie,

Because that Pride did beare the swaie.

And Alexandria in like cace,

Whiche was a citie strong and greate:

Pride would not let them purchase gracer

Nor yet for mercie would intreate.

Because that Pride so muche did flowe,

It was destroied and lies full lowe.

[Page]

And Niniuie like cause I finde,

In the ende for Pride was cleane destroied,

For Pride so muche did puffe their minde,

That God was cleane forgot and voide.

In Pride so muche thei did delite,

That God the same destroied quite.

Ierusalem that citie strong,

Pride would not let them God to knowe,

In whiche Pride thei contined long,

As Iosephus the same doeth showe.

Till Titus did destrote the same,

And did accuse their pride with shame.

Ensample take by noble Troie,

The like for pride was neuer sene:

With warres the Grekes did it destroie,

Bothe wall and house the threwe doune clene

Because that Pride did beare the swaie,

It came to ruine and decaie.

Therefore, O London, now take heede,

For thou wast called Troic sometyme:

That suche decaie doeth not procede,

For to reuenge of Pride the crime.

Therefore repent, from Pride refraine,

Lest as Troie did, thou feele some paine.

[Page]

For God doeth threaten thy greate fall,

By signes and tokens many waies:

The whiche vnto thee happen shall,

Shortly Christ saieth, and that in fewe daies,

Therefore his power diuine to please,

Repent, his ire thou shalt appease.

O London, thou hast cause to weepe,

For to consider thyne estate:

Thou art in synne now drounde so deepe,

That from hell mouthe thou caust not scape.

Except repentaunce thou embrace,

At Gods hande thou shalt finde no grace.

To practise pride thou doest delight,

And fonde deuises for to gaine:

Whiche is estemed all in Gods sight,

A thyng moste friuolous and vaine.

Yet thou doest seke the same to vse,

Whiche doeth thy noble fame abuse.

Let this a reformation be,

For thee, that thou in tyme repent:

Whereby thou mightst haue grace to flee,

From Pride, the Lordes will to content.

Reuolue in mynde what happen shall,

For Pride in the ende will haue a fall.

Finis.

quod Ihon Carre.

¶A caueat or warnyng to Englande.

[Page]

THe present plagues, that now we fele,

our ioyes deeth muche incroche:

And feare of forrein foes besides,

who seeke for to approche.

To woorke annoye to Britaine soile,

but Ioue bee thankte therefore:

That hath dislodgde the treasen now,

whiche Curia kepte in store:

The hidden sparkes haue winde disperste,

the smoke hath showne her fire:

And dristyng Yris hath constrainde,

the furious flambes retire.

That long within Rammusius breaste,

in couerte close did lurke:

Pretendyng naught but Princes fall,

and Englandes woe to woorke.

For outwarde face maie simple seme,

where sauour doeth affecte:

And Wolfe beyng cladde in Lambes arraie,

who can at firste suspecte.

Till gredie iawes to woorke decaie,

of sillie Lambes doe thirste:

And doeth retourne to vomite olde,

from whence he came at firste.

But tyme hath tride what coloured crafte,

[Page] simplicitie long did cloke:

And rooted vp suche weedes as crste,

good corne haue sought to choke.

The gardner hath her sickle sharpte,

to plucke vp all suche seedes:

As to the eye doe fruictfull seme,

and yet are stinckyng weedes.

Whose barrein braunche as fertile semde,

to those that simple were,

In eche respecte as did the tree,

that yerely fruicte did beare.

But he whiche first did plant those trees,

in this our Englishe lande:

And did assigne the Gardener she,

to take the chardge in hande:

Hath showne her grace, where she shall graft

and where that she shall roote:

Accordyng as affection serues,

to snche as yelde no fruite.

And least that soile hereafter should,

his force againe renewe:

And holesome herbes in Englande sowne,

should forrein weedes subdue.

Her grace in hande the sickle holdes,

to croppe suche ympes in tyme:

Least if she staie as erste she did,

thei happe to high to climbe.

[Page] Though that our gracious Prince doeth loth,

to yelde the fatall stroke:

To those that by desertes might muche,

her highnesse ire prouoke.

With edged tooles seme not to ieste,

moue not your Prince to muche:

Leaste that the edge doe tourne and cutte,

when you the same doe touche.

Let eche degree obeye their Prince,

as duetie hath assinde:

Good Englande watche and looke aboute,

there comes a plague behinde.

That more will vexe then sicknesse doeth,

repent therefore with spede:

Leaste God for thy incestious life,

to take reuenge procede.

O worthie Prince as erste thou haste,

the Gospelles might maintained:

And haste redreste the poore mans cause,

whiche hath for right complainde.

Ronoumed Prince euen so I craue,

forsee thy subiectes woes:

And yelde reuenge to suche as wishe,

thy Croune to forrein foes.

Excepte the deedes of suche in tyme,

as hollowe hartes possesse:

In woordes true subiectes to your grace,

[Page] in deedes mynde nothyng lesse.

O Lorde cutte of suche impes in tyme,

and sende your grace tranquilitie:

God graunt the nobles maie incline,

to yelde your grace humilitie.

God graunt the Gospell good successe,

and Cleargie for to preache:

The sincire truthe as Christ hym self,

was wonte the same to teache.

Doe Antichriste confounde (O Lorde)

bryng Rome to desolation:

And doe preserue Elizabeth,

The Queene of Englishe nation.

Illuminate the Commons eyes,

that thei maie walke their path:

And graunte the magistrate to vse,

the office that he hath.

And to this citie graunt (O God)

lorde Maior with his fraternitie:

Degresse nothyng from Princes will,

but ioyne as one in vnitie.

God prospere her, God length her raigne,

from harmes her grace God saue:

Poore Phillippes he with gushyng teares,

doeth thus desire to haue

Finis

per W. Phillippes.

The penitent synner.

[Page]

BItterly and earnestly,

Before thy mightie maiestie,

On knees I fall,

And crie and call,

For mercie Lorde vnfainedly.

Daie and night, before thy sight,

My synfull life I doe recite,

And craue for grace,

For to imbrace,

Whiche is my chief and hartes delight.

And I with humble reuerence,

Doe craue thy pardon for myne offence:

Thy mercie eke, oh Lorde I seeke,

With humble soule, and harte moste meeke.

What am I oh kyng moste hye,

That thus by myne iniquitie,

I should prouoke,

Thy heauie stroke,

To punishe me so greuouslie.

Myne offence, and negligence:

Hath monde to wrathe thy patience:

Whiche now in haste,

I feele and taste,

By proofe and plaine experience.

But Lorde though I haue synned sore,

[Page] Yet slea me not in anger therefore:

Nor in thyne yre, I thee desire,

Condempne my soule to endlesse fire.

Worthely, vndoubtedly,

I haue deserude extremely,

And trode the pathe:

Right to thy wrathe,

Suche was my weake infirmitie,

Sathan hath so blinded me:

That I forsooke thee vtterly,

And by his arte,

He dulde my harte,

That I had quite forgotten thee.

And did let slippe out of my mynde,

Thy benefits and fauour so kynde:

Thy mercie moste, oh Lorde of hoste.

The perfecte reste to greeued ghoste.

Caste thyne eyes, from christall skies,

Vpon my state, and heare my cries,

I doe repente,

With harts consent,

Therefore my suite doe not despise.

Heale my wounde, and make me sounde:

Least feare of hell my sprits confounde,

Respecte my case,

[Page] And graunte thy grace,

That hope of healthe maie once abounde.

And that the stormes of death and synne.

Maie not in me suche victorie winne:

That I at laste, when healthe is paste,

In euerlastyng paines be caste.

Pitie me and succour me,

Oh God of thy benignitie,

I doe intende,

For to amende,

And flie from synne vnfainedlie,

Ʋtterly, I will defie,

To runne my race so wickedlie.

As here tofore,

I haue full sore

The greater grief assuredlie.

But though I be a wicked wight,

By true repentaunce pardon me quite:

For God aboue, as scriptures proue,

A contrite harte doeth daiely loue.

Though my synne, so vile hath been,

That iudgement iuste, the same doeth win

Yet since I due,

My self renewe.

And to repent my fault beginne.

[Page] Offer grace, for I imbrace,

A broken harte in present place:

And I deteste,

With constaunte breaste.

The woorks of synne before thy face.

All deeds of darknesse I defie,

And to thy waies my footsteppes applie:

Thou art my towre of healthe eche hower,

I force not then for Sathans power.

Mercifull and pitifull,

Thou art vnto the sorowfull,

To suche as bee,

Conuerte to thee,

Thou showste thy graces plentifull.

Scripture saieth, that onely faithe,

Doeth quenche thy hot and burning wrath

Whiche kindled is,

I knowe well this.

Against the man that treades the pathe.

Of wicked life, and vnbelefe,

And other synnes ingendreth grefe:

And will constraine perpetuall paine.

Excepte from synne he doe refraine,

Therefore I vnsainedlie,

Acknowledge myne iniquitie,

[Page] And now I craue,

Thy grace to haue,

And mercie in this miserie.

Feare of hell doeth me compell,

My synnes with tricklyng teares to tell,

Thy heauie hande,

I vnderstande,

And all thy skourges fearce and fell.

Wherewith thou hast from tyme to tyme,

Corrected suche as fell into cryme:

And did transgresse thy lawes no lesse,

Whereto we ought our liues adresse.

Wilfulnesse in wickednesse,

Is moste extreme vngodlinesse:

The man that doeth,

Against all truthe,

Resist of sturdie stubbornesse,

He I saie, a sore decaie:

Shall taste, as one quite cast awaie,

In endlesse paine,

There to remaine,

As vnto hell a lastyng praie,

Where with the glotton he shall taste,

In Limbo lake, sore tormentes in haste:

Where he shall crie with voice on hie,

With Diues, till his tonge be dzie.

[Page]

Whiles the same, to mynde I frame,

I call vpon thy holie name,

My synne I leaue,

To thee I cleaue,

And eke my wanton fleshe I tame.

Makyng mone to thee alone,

With many a sigh, and many a grone,

For my misdeede,

Whiche doe exceede:

And stincke before thy christall throne.

My synnes like Skarlet seme in sight,

Oh make them Lorde, like woll very white,

Like Purple thei appeare I saie,

But thou like Milke canst them conuaie.

Dauid iuste did not mistruste,

Thy mercie when he kneeled in duste,

And on his backe,

A hearie sacke,

Did weare, as scripture haue discuste.

Greuouslie and bitterlie,

Confessyng his adulterie:

His murther eke,

With mynde moste meke,

When Nathan true did prophecie.

The plague of God against hym than,

Excepte to tourne forthwith he began:

[Page] So Dauids harte, for feare of smart.

By true repentaunce did conuarte.

God forgaue and did hym saue,

From vengaūce iust, whiche sinne did craue

Oh deale with me,

So tenderlie,

That Dauids rest my soule maie haue.

For no doubt, I goe aboute,

To tourne from synne that deadly route,

From bloudie Saule:

To faithfull Paule,

I bridle ill affections stoute.

Whiche did restraine my harte and minde,

From thee my maker louyng and kinde:

And did withdrawe the feare and awe,

Prescribed in thy holie lawe.

I confesse with singlenesse,

My former vile vngodlinesse:

And I despise,

With wepyng eyes,

The deadly waies of wickenesse.

Whiche I tooke,

And so forsooke,

The waie of life without rebuke,

To Christians all in generall,

[Page] The glorious gaines whereon to looke.

Whiche waie who so doeth walke a right,

He shall attaine the heauenly light:

And for rewarde of his regarde,

A blessed croune there is preparde.

Hope of this eternall blisse,

Hath made me leaue to runne amisse,

And shonne the waie,

Whiche brynges decaie,

The ends whereof destruction is.

Paine and woe,

As scriptures showe,

With euerlastyng ouerthrowe:

And therefore I this paines to die,

Submit my soule, and seke to knowe.

That narrowe gate of blissed state,

Where is no strief nor any debate,

But ioye alwaies with perfecte praise,

Oh God vouchsafe my soule to raise.

Though I be vnkinde to thee,

In mercie father pardon me,

And though my race,

Be voide of grace,

Yet graunt that I, thy loue maie see.

Though we begonne, yet Lorde anone.

[Page] Vouchsafe that I with Simeon,

Maie see my wealthe,

And sauyng healthe,

I meane that stedfast corner stone.

Whiche of the builders was refused,

And in their deedes moste spitefully vsed:

This stone was Christ that kyngly Prieste,

That with his bloud our soules hath bleste.

Greuously and bitterlie,

Beholde my greate aduersitie,

Wherein I stande:

Bounde with the bande,

Of synne, and sore captiuitie.

Haste then thyne eares to bowe,

To me opprest with sorrowe nowe.

On thee in haste,

My care I caste,

My praiers Lorde in faithe alowe.

Oh let my plaints the heauens pearse,

And here the suite whiche I doe rehearse:

Tourne not awaie thy face I praie,

But saue my soule from hells decaie.

Sathan still, by wicked will,

Would tourne my hope from Syon hill:

Whiche to attaine,

[Page] I pitche with paine:

The tents of faithe, though deuill nill.

Temptyng me, to disagree,

From confidence, oh Lorde in thee,

And to mistruste:

Thy promise iuste,

Whiche vnto synners shewed be.

But thou my God, make weake his strength,

Least he by craft, subdue me at length:

For I am weake, in spirite I speake,

All Sathans slightes in sonder breake.

Subtilie and craftelie,

He sekes by deuellishe pollicie:

To clogge my feete,

In pathes vnmeete,

And walke in waies of vanitie.

Stedfastlie and zealouslie,

I will adore thy Maiestie:

And eke prepare,

To fixe my care,

Vpon thy mercie faithfullie.

Thus doyng still, I hope by faithe,

Thou wilt translate, to fauour thy wrathe:

And clense my spotte, and purge the blotte,

That all my faults maie be forgotte.

[Page]

Harte and tonge, and greues emong,

Shall syng as holie Dauid song,

The Psalmes of praise:

To thee alwaies,

Before assemblies olde and yong.

Feruentlie and ardentlie,

My lipps thy praise shall testifie,

Bothe yonge and olde:

With hartes moste bolde,

Thy holie name shall magnifie.

And I with thankes will aye commende,

Thy woorkes & wōders, world without ende,

Let all adore with me therefore,

Thy name be praisde for euermore.

Finis.

[Page]

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

A larume belle for London, with à caueat or warning to England also a pitifull complaint of the penitente synner, newlie set forthe by Ihon Carre, citezein of London.

Carr, John, citezein of London.

Edition statement

1573

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2007-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A18039

ID [STC]

STC 4684

ID [STC]

ESTC S104895

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99840625

ID [PROQUEST]

99840625

ID [VID]

5149

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A18039)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 5149)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 188:11)

Source

— A larume belle for London, with à caueat or warning to England also a pitifull complaint of the penitente synner, newlie set forthe by Ihon Carre, citezein of London., Carr, John, citezein of London., Phillippes, W..

Extent

[22] p.

By [W. How for] Henry Kirckham, at the signe of the blacke Boie, at the little north doore of Poules,. Imprinted at London :: 1573.. (The Caveat is signed: W. Phillippes.) (Actual printer's name from STC.) (Signatures: a b⁴ (-b4).) (Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

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