A most notable Example of an vngracious Son, who in the pride of his heart denyed his owne Fathe [...] and how God for his offence, turned his meat into loathsome Toades.
To the tune of Lord Darley.
IN searching famous Chronicles,
it was my chance to reade
A worthy story strange and true,
whereto I tooke good heed,
Betwixt a Farmer and his Sonne,
this rare example stands;
Which well may moue the hardest hearts
to wéepe and wring their hands.
The Farmer in the Country dwelt,
whose substance had none end;
He sent therefore his eldest Sonne,
in Paris for to dwell,
Where he because a Marchant man,
and trafficke great he vsed,
So that he was exceeding rich,
till he himselfe abused.
For hauing now the world at will,
his mind was wholly bent:
To gaming, wine, and wantonnesse,
till all his goods were spent.
Yea such excessiue riotousnesse
by him was shewed forth,
That he was thrée times more in debt,
then all his wealth was worth.
At length his credit cleane was crackt,
and he in Prison cast:
And euery man against him then
did set his action fast.
There lay he lockt in yrons strong,
for euer and for aye,
Vnable while his life did last,
his grieuous debt to pay.
And liuing in this carefull case,
his eyes with teares bespent:
The lewdnesse of his former life,
too late he did repent.
And being voide of all reliefe,
of helpe and comfort quite;
Vnto his Father at tho last,
he thus began to write.
Bow downe a while your héedfull eares,
my louing Father deare:
And grant A pray in gracious sort,
my pitious plaint to heare.
Forgiue the soule offences all
of thy vnthrifty Sonne:
Which through the lewdnesse of his life,
hath now himselfe vndone.
O my good Father, take remorse
on this my extreme need,
And succour his distdessed state,
whose heart for whe doth bleed.
In direfull dungeon here I lye,
my feet in fetters fast:
Whom my most cruell Creditors
in Prison so haue cast.
Let pity therefore pierce your brest,
and mercy moue your minde:
And to release my misery,
some shift, swéet Father, find.
My chiefest chéere is bread full browne,
the boords my softest bed:
And flinty stones my pillowes serue
to rest my troubled head.
My garments all are worne to rags,
my body starues with cold:
And crawling vermine eates my flesh,
most grieuous to behold.
Deare Father, come therefore with spéed
and rid me out of thrall:
And let me not in Prison dye,
sith for your helpe I call.
The good old man no sooner had
perused this written scrowle:
But trickling teares along his chéekes,
from watry eyes did roule.
Alas my sonne, my sonne, quoth he,
in whom I ioyed most,
Thou shall not long in Prison be,
what euer it me cost.
Two hundred heads of well fed beasts,
he changed them for gold:
Foure hundred quarters of good Corne,
for siluer eke he sold.
But all the same could not suffice,
this haynous debt to pay,
Till at the length constrain'd he was
to sell his Land away.
Then was his sonne released quite,
his debt discharged cleane:
And he likewise as well to liue,
as he before had béene.
Then went his louing Father home,
who for to helpe his sonne,
Had sold his liuing quite away,
and eke himselfe vndone.
So that he liued poore and bare,
and in such extreme néed,
That many times he wanted food,
his hungry corps to féed.
His son meane time in weolth did swim,
whose substance now was such,
That sure within the City then,
few men were found so rich.
But as his goods did still encrease,
and riches in did slide:
So more and more his hardned heart
did swell in hatefull pride:
But it fell out vpon a time,
when ten yéeres woe was past,
Vnto his sonne he did repaire,
for some reliefe at last.
And being come vnto his house,
in very poore array:
It chanced so, that with his sonne
great States should dine that day.
The poore old man with hat in hand▪
did then the Porter pray,
To shew his sonne that at the gate
his father there did stay.
Whereat this proud disdainefull wretc [...]
with taunting speeches said:
That long agoe his Fathers bones
within his graue were laid:
What Rascall then is that (quoth he)
that staineth so my state?
I charge thée Porter presently,
to driue him from my gate.
Which answer when the old man hea [...]
he was in mind dismayd:
He wept, he waild, he wrung his hand
and thus at length he said,
O cursed wretch and most vnkind,
the worker of my woe,
Thou monster of humanity,
and eke thy fathers foe:
Haue I béene carefull of thy case,
maintaining still thy state:
And dost thou now so doggedly
inforce me from thy gate:
And haue I wrong'd thy brethren all
from thrall to set thée frée:
And brought my selfe to beggers state
and all to succour thée?
Woe worth the time when first of all
thy body I espide,
Which hath in hardnesse of thy heart,
thy Fathers face denide.
But now behold how God that time
did shew a wonder great:
Euen where his son with all his frien [...]
were settled downe to meat.
For when the fairest pye was cut,
a strange and dreadfull case,
Most vgly Toades came crawling [...]
and leaped at his face.
Then did this wretch his fault conf [...]
and for his Father sent,
And for his great ingratitude,
full sore he did repent.
All vertuous Children learne by thi [...]
obedient hearts to shew:
And honour still your Parents deare
for God commanded so.
And thinke how he did turne his m [...]
to poysoned Toades indéed,
Which did his Fathers face deny,
because he stood in néed.
Printed it London for H. Gosson.
FINIS.
A most excellent Ballad, of an old man and his wife, who in their great want and misery sought to Children for succour, by whom they were disdained, and scornefully sent away succourlesse, and Gods vengeance shewed vpon them for the same.
To the tune of Priscilla.
IT was an old man which with his poore wife
in great distresse did fall:
They were so féeble with age God wot,
they could not worke at all.
A gallant Sonne they had,
which liued wealthily:
To him they went with full intent,
to ease their misery.
Alacke and alas for woe, &c.
A hundred miles when they had gone,
with many a weary step:
At length they saw their Sons faire house,
which made their hearts to leape.
They sate them on the gréene,
their shooes and hose to trim:
To put cleane bands about their neckes,
against they should enter in. Alack, &c.
Vnto the doore with trembling ioynts,
when those old couple came:
The woman with a shaking head,
the old man blind and lame:
Full mannnerly they knockt,
fearing for to offend:
At last their Son doth frowningly come
vnto them in the end. Alack, &c.
Good folks, quoth he, what would you haue here,
me thinkes you are too bold?
Why get you not home to your Country
now you are lame and old?
With that they both replyed,
with sorrow, care, and griefe:
Here are we come to thée our Sonne,
for succour and reliefe. Alack, &c.
This is thy Father (gentle Sonne)
and I thy louiug Mother:
That brought thée vp so tenderly,
and lou'd thée aboue all other:
I bare thée in this wombe,
these brests did nourish thée:
And as it chanst, I often danst
thée on my tender knée.
And humbly now we thée intreat,
my deare and louing Sonne:
That thou wilt doe for vs in our age,
as we for thée haue done.
Nay nay, not so, he said,
your sute is all in vaine:
Tis best for you, I tell you true,
to get you home againe. Alack, &c.
The world is not now as when I was born
all things are growne, more deare:
My charge of Children likewise is great,
as plainely doth appeare.
The best that I can doe,
will hardly them maintaine:
Therefore I say, be packing away,
and get you home againe. Alacke, &c.
The old man with his hat in his hand,
full many a legge did make:
The woman wept and wrung her hands,
and prayed him for Christ his sake
Not so to send them backe,
distressed and vndone▪
But let vs lie in some Barne hereby,
quoth she, my louing Sonne. Alack, &c.
By no meanes would he thereto consent,
but sent them soone away:
Quoth he, You know the perill of Law,
if long time here you stay:
The stockes and the whipping poast
will fall vnto your share:
Then take you héed, and with all spéed,
to your Country doe repaire. Alack, &c.
Away then went this wofull old man,
full sad in heart and minde:
With wéeping teares his wife did lament
their Sonne was so vnkinde.
Thou wicked Childe, quoth they,
for this thy cruell déed,
The Lord send thée as little pitty
when thou dost stand in néed.
Alack and alas for woe, &c.
His children hearing their Father set
his Parents thus at nought:
In short time after to haue his Land,
his death by subtlety wrought:
What cause haue we, quoth they,
more kindnesse to expresse,
Then he vnto his Parents did
in their great wretchednesse?
Alacke and alas for woe, &c.
They murthered him in pittifull sort,
they waid not his intreats,
The more he pray'd compassionatly,
the greater were their threats,
Speake not to vs, quoth they,
for thou the death shalt die:
And with that word, with dagger & sw [...]
they mangled him monstrously.
Alack and alas for woe, &c.
When they had got his siluer and gold,
according to their mind:
They buried him in a stinking ditch,
where no man should him find.
But now behold and sée,
Gods vengance on them all:
To gaine their gold, their Cousin came,
and slew them great and small.
Alacke and alas for woe.
He came among them with a great club
in dead time of the night,
Yea two of the Sons he braind therewi [...]
and taking of his flight,
The murtherer taken was,
and suffered for the same:
Deserued for their cruelty,
this vengance vpon them cam [...]
Alack and alas therefore,
Alack and alas therefore.
FINIS.
Printed [...]t London by E. [...].