A Winters Tale, TOLD To such as have WIT to understand it, And WORTH to Reward it.
Published by B. S. Gent. To seek a Parallell.

1.
THere whilom was a seemly Buxom paire,
That wedded were with full and free consent;
The Maiden to her Father was Co-heire;
To love each other deare was their intent.
And so they did, as ever yet did any,
Shee lik'd him best, he none so well as Nanny.
2.
But fickle Fortune which doth often crosse,
As these she did, with malice and despite,
By Law-suits were they put unto such losse,
As made them leave their Native Countrey quite,
And tack about to seek some other place,
Though homely clad, to live without disgrace.
3.
And so they took their way to Chester Strond,
With happy Gale, and Vessell that was stout,
Soone did arrive upon the Irish Lond,
Where they their businesse quickly brought about:
And haply there they got a Habitation,
For profit good, and pleasant situation.
4.
There lived they in long and happy blisse,
Sweet Children many 'twixt them were begot,
If Houshold jarres, or ought were done amisse,
When once debated, long it lasted not.
Such Children, Wife, such Husband as was he,
You could in other places hardly see.
5.
They planted well, and Houses builded store,
A Church obtained in a wilder place
Then any that adventur'd heretofore,
Which was descended of the English Race:
You could not meet with folke of better quality,
For Conversation, and for Hospitality.
6.
They did extend their Pitty to the Poore,
Instead of Surgeon, often drest their wounds;
Relieved such as begg'd from doore to doore,
And others that were needy in their bounds:
And such as dy'd, not having cov'ring meet,
They often furnish'd with a winding-sheet.
7.
Before they came into this uncouth place,
No Innes were built to entertaine a stranger,
But such as came were forc'd to ride apace,
Or stay much short to keep from further danger:
To Travellers, that oft was ill bestead,
They gave a courteous welcome, meat and bed.
8.
Thus liv'd this Couple both devout and zealous,
Brought up their Children in the feare of God,
Nor were they of each other ever jealous,
Their Servants kept from gadding much abroad:
Nor were they pinch'd, that they should need to steale;
Thus order'd was their little Common-weale.
9.
When he about affaires abroad did ride,
She neither kept close house, or open doore,
The goods in Pasture wisely shee did guide,
Of Houshold five and twenty, or some more.
Much joy they had, of sorrow seldome tasted,
Each yeare encreas'd, when many others wasted.
10.
As one time he from chiefest City came,
Which Dublin Hight so famous and renown'd,
Quoth he, deare Love me thinks they are too blame,
Which planted have not yon same peece of ground,
That lies so right from Dublin for a Stage,
And yet hath no receipt for Man, or Page.
11.
God hath so blessed this our undertaking,
In sending us Prosperity and health,
That while my Limbes are good, my Spirits waking,
Ile study how to serve the Common-wealth:
That much good may be done there's no deny all,
If you consent wee'll put it to the tryall.
12.
Shee gentle soule, who never was averse
To ought that he inclin'd in word or deed,
Sweet love she said, so well you ken your Verse
In Field, and Town, you little consell need.
This is your love exceptions to prevent,
'Tis kindly mov'd, as kindly I consent.
13.
And thus he went unto the Lord Dunsany,
The rightfull owner of the fore said place,
A Noble Lord, by Birth as good as any;
His gentle Lady came of English race.
In briefe to tell ere past was much debate,
They full agreed on Covenants and the rate.
14.
Some Chapmen thought he did not well advise,
To give so great a price for naked Lands;
But such I meane as were not over-wise,
Or such as sought to gain't in their owne hands:
Or such as had no right discerning sence,
To know Commerce will build both house and fence.
15.
For being seated in so great a Road,
And from the City so compleat a Stage,
When such as journey▪ wanting there abode,
Must further ride, it booteth not to rage,
As many moe have done as well as I,
When as we were benighted, wet and dry.
16.
Our Cloathes were wet, and we were dry for drinke:
Because I will not hold you in a Riddle,
Amisse of me I hope you will not thinke,
If you may there embrace your Hostesse middle;
As since you mighr, and more you might not doe,
If you meane ill, she thought no harme to you.
17.
For in that place he builded Host'ries twaine,
And put therein two very honest couple,
Where Guests of all sorts came with might and maine,
For unto such they were exceeding supple;
And all things came so fitly to their hands,
As shortly did improve both House and Lands.
18.
Lords Rent did trebble what it was before,
New Tenants liv'd in farre more gentile fashion:
The undertaker totted up his score;
And here begun this pretty new Plantation:
Then thus advanc'd, the Bargaine was not derre
From sixty to three hundred pounds a yeare.
19.
If you desire to know the reason why
The Lands of Ireland are so quickly gainfull,
It is to such as have discerning eye,
And to their proper use to fit are painfull.
Thus did this loving couple prosper well,
Till Gods wrath kindled fierce, by Rebels, fell.
20.
But not on them alone, their hap was better
Then many thousands under that dire crosse,
For which to God above they are still debtor,
Their lives were sav'd, though goods were put to losse.
They were i'th, North about their houshold care,
And were surprized ere they were aware.
21.
For there it was they made their first Plantation,
With mutuall comfort, and all good successe.
And there it was this heavy visitation
O're-whelm'd that Countrey people more and lesse.
Let any judge what cause they had to feare,
Eleven moneths full (in dread) they Prisoners were.
22.
And after that they freedome had to passe,
Which was great comfort to afflicted minde;
Yet sad and heavy were the termes a lasse,
Their eldest sonne was forc'd to stay behind.
Quoth they, to you our Countrey is well knowne,
Thus farre we yeeld, for favours you have showne.
23.
But yet your skill in this our Irish warre,
Much augmented by your long residing,
If you be sent we shall be very farre
To thinke that here we shall have safe abiding;
Therefore him we keep, that we may be more sure
T'exchange for ours, or be our selves secure.
24.
I would our State were pleased so to thinke,
That such as left their Lands and Goods behinde,
Will not so easily be induc'd to winke,
As such as know but little of their minde:
For who so fit as those have double band,
T' advise and fight with double heart and hand.
25.
Thus on they march with sad and mournful cheare,
To leave their eldest sonne in dolefull plight;
For Lands and Goods they never took such feare
As that to him they would doe lit le right.
A youth so sweet of nature, and so kinde,
One death it was to leave such sonne behinde.
26.
Then came they to an English Garrison,
Droghdagh that seated was upon the Maine,
The Father sad beyond all comparison,
To Dublin went, soone to returne againe,
With hope to bring reliefe, sad hearts to cheare
Of Wife and Children, almost dead with feare.
27.
Thus came he to that old and famous City,
Where he had left two daughters for their breeding,
One whereof, O pitty, greatest pitty,
Was dead, which set his heart-strings fresh a bleeding:
And sure the feare she had of us below,
Did cause her death, which added to our woe.
28.
A gracious childe, withall a proper Lasse,
No doubt she weareth now a Crowne of glory;
And since our God, which all things bring to passe
Was pleased, then ought we to be sorry?
No happy Maid that is before us gone,
When others live with cause of further moane.
29.
He found their eldest Daughter plung'd in sorrow,
For Sisters death, and their imprisonment;
And had he not come early the next morrow,
Which gave some comfort to her languishment,
She might perchance have found same way to Blisse,
But now she lives to see more things amisse.
30.
And long may live to give our Maker glory.
A meeker soule lives not upon this earth:
But now I must returne unto my story;
Our lives were dated long before our birth.
Then let us live, so as we need not care
For Hell, or Death, that will not Princes spare.
31.
And now he went unto the Counsell Table,
To let them know what he beneath observed,
And did relate the truth as he was able,
For otherwise he had not well deserved.
The Board did seeme to pitty much his case,
And mov'd that noble Lord to give him place.
32.
Who bravely then commanded there in Chiefe,
Lord Marquis of Ormond.
And worthy was as any I have knowne,
(For I doe love to tell my minde in briefe)
Be what he will in field or yet in Towne:
And he brave Lord himselfe was nothing slack
To give him Horse and Armes, to cloath his back.
33.
But now the Regiments were all come over,
That hard it was an empty place to finde
A Souldier he, his stile I will not cover,;
That there and else where often had been train'd.
But so long had they kept him close in Mew
Others got the start, which then but little knew.
34.
For that good turne his Masters did below,
Who did intend that he should be their Agent,
They kept him that he might not strike a blow;
Nor yet get out for to seek imployment.
But now this gentle Lord full of remorse,
Did study how to raise him Troop of Horse.
35.
He in the meane time to Droghdagh was sent
T' old Sir Henry Tychborne, That gallant Knight,
Prisoners to release was the full intent,
Left still behinde that would come if they might.
This Message was full glad in this respect,
His sonne amongst the rest he did expect.
36.
But ere he could adventure to Droghdagh,
He staid a night at Garrison Corduff,
And afterward he had no cause to laugh,
There fell out such ill-favour'd peece of stuffe.
Some few Dragoones he had unto his Guard,
That led him wrong, and thus with him it far'd,
37.
A Thicket was the way that they should ride,
He lik'd it not, it seem'd a doubtfull place;
Goe see quoth he if Rebells doe them hide,
To give annoyance to us as we passe.
He sent two men to see what might appeare,
Who brought him present word the Coast was cleare.
38.
It prov'd not so; for as they marched by,
They heard a clamour, and a suddaine rush,
And to their cost they quickly did espy
Rebells heads peep like Snakes out of a bush.
And then began the businesse very hot,
They pour'd on him alone full thirty shot.
39.
Himselfe, his Cloak, his Saddle, and his Horse,
Upon Account had holes to that same number,
Which suddainly was done without remorse,
And how hee scap'd with life it was a wonder.
They fear'd another Party of our men,
Which made them back retire unto their Den.
40.
His Horse was kill'd, one of his men starke dead;
Of theirs two they kill'd, Pris'ner was the third:
Sore wounded he went with an aking head;
A greater scape (it was thy mercy Lord)
Did never fall to any sinfull wight:
Back they returne in sad and woefull plight.
41.
And then appear'd he shot was with six Bullets,
A homely place, God knowes, fell to his Harbour,
He was not fed with over many Pullets,
To make him trim he stood no need of Barber:
A Surgeon was the man he wanted most,
And him to fetch one rid away in Post.
42.
Next day there came a nimble Leech, James Moore,
Was sent to him by honest Thomas Howard,
(Who gave him money in his hand before)
Him to requite he never will be froward.
His wounds were bound, & search'd with all good speed,
No veine left open any more to bleed.
43.
Ill newes goes farre, and soo did these of him,
His Wife heard he was dead, or at the point,
She makes all haste, staid not to make her trim.
You need not doubt she trembled every joint:
A Convoy fitly serv'd the way to crosse,
Leaves Children foure behinde, to mourne their losse.
44.
Full wan she look'd to finde him in that case;
Take cheere, quoth he, I hope all will be weele,
She sobb'd, and sigh'd, and wip'd her blubred face,
And softly then she downe by him did kneele:
Her comming to him did such comfort brings,
He thought himselfe as happy as a King.
45.
For her kinde soule more gentle then a Willow,
Lord how he griev'd that had not welcome fit,
Hard Boards her Bed, a Saddle was her Pillow,
Which put him quite besides his little wit.
Deare Love, said she, no harme can me betide,
No stone is hard, so I lye by thy side.
46.
The place did onely yeeld his hurts a Pallat,
And that likewise upon the Boards did lye,
There's many begging all day with a Wallat,
That when night comes, to lodge so will be shye:
The times were such no better could be had,
Then they that cause such times are worse then mad.
47.
No want of will in People or in Souldier,
Of what they had they gave the very best;
Not any place wherein they might be bolder,
His thanks he paies, God quite them for the rest.
In few dayes space there was good hope of life,
Prais'd be his Name that sent him such a wife.
48.
In the Surgeons absence she could play her part,
Few women might with her compare for skill,
T' helpe such as need she alwayes had the heart,
Now she acted lively both in deed and will.
In one moneths space to Dublin he was brought,
Such suddaine change could hardly have been thought.
49.
A change said I? Now commeth change on change,
For here this blessed Creature did contract
A Flux and Ague, which held her very strange,
His hurts were mending, but his heart was rack't,
To thinke that she should come his life to save,
And bring her selfe to such untimely grave.
50.
Now was she sometimes better, sometimes worse;
Their Children as y'hare heard were left behinde,
Them to recover they did make a Purse,
To give some ease unto their troubled minde.
Their second Daughter, with two pretty Boyes,
Came with such news as drencht their new-come joyer
51.
For when these three appear'd each after other,
He mist a fourth; Lord how his heart did dread,
Wet eyes he saw in sister and in brother:
Nay then, quoth he, our little Girle is dead:
O happy she, then said her Mother deare,
For her we need no longer stand in feare.
52.
What though she was our Darling young and tender,
As sweet a Childe as ever woman bare,
To send this wicked world her wit was slender,
Our gracious God of her hath taken care:
This ought we not to reckon is a losse,
For surely this a Blessing is, and not a Crosse.
53.
This I discerne, although I faint and languish,
Through glimpse of God Almighties giving,
Such as remains shall have both woe and anguish,
The dead are better farre then are the living.
God blesse you all that harken to my song,
Ere you be queat it will be very long
54.
For such a cursed Rabble upstart Crew,
The Serpent hath infus'd with deadly hate,
They never will leave off to worke your Rue.
Till they have quite undone both Church and State.
They listned to her lore, sate by and cry'd;
Shee sigh'd, and turn'd about, and shortly dy'd.
55.
Now break heart, if thou art not made of Flint,
I heare thee crack, and eyes with Rivers swell,
No wounds, or losse of goods gave such a dint,
Or earthly thing that ever him befell.
What further hope doth now for him remaine,
The World to him a Chaos is againe.
56.
Yet Children pledges deare of mothers love,
He needs must joyne with her in Prophesie;
He sees such direfull threatnings from above,
Through Satans craft and mans iniquity,
That till our injur'd King be once restor'd,
Each gentle wight must suffer, Knight, and Lord.
57.
Thus did poore Father, and poore Children foure,
Bewaile, lament, and mourne each others losse;
Their elder Brother, as you heard before,
Was dolefull pris'ner still, O heavy Crosse:
Now all the world began to run on Rucks,
Deep sorrow brought deep Fever and a Flux.
58.
Besides, a wound that was not rightly cur'd,
Broke out agen, and wrought him mickle teene:
O Lord, he hath not yet enough endur'd,
Thy wonders great must more of him be seen:
Sad children cry, to see him in this taking,
Folk think him dead, his Coffin is a making.
59.
And now behold the great Almighties power,
Comes gushing from the foresaid hollow wound
Impostumated stuffe a Quart, or more,
As he lay sencelesse groveling on the ground:
Then shortly after he was pretty able,
About his Sonne to wait at Counsell Table.
60.
And that brought on his eldest Sonnes release,
With earnest suit he shortly did obtaine,
A way to worke the weary young mans peace,
By sending in exchange of Pris'ners twaine:
And even then a noble
Sir Will. Cole.
friend below,
Had late redeem'd him from his thrall and woe.
61.
Thus once more were his Children in his sight,
Eleven once, now five the number left:
And thanks be giv'n to that good God of might,
Which brought such ease to heart full deeply cleft.
But then they had such want of livelyhood,
His Sonnes to England went to seek their food.
62.
For now it was the time of a Cessation,
Long sought by th'Irish, and at length accorded,
Which brought to some a very short Collation,
Amongst the rest it nought to them afforded.
His Lieutenant he sent with Children three,
His Daughters two remain'd,
Irish phrase,
poore Cramacrees.
63.
For he was then design'd to carry o're
Some men to England, as it was projected,
Which made him send his people so before,
In hope that there they might have been protected.
But once more as they past upon the Seas,
They Pris'ners were againe at little ease.
64.
And he himselfe now ready was for fare.
With Men and Armes to follow on the chase;
But Ships within our Harbour brought new care,
And blockt us up for running further race.
Thus wheel'd about, for Children making mone,
At length he License had to goe alone.
65.
Alone, I meane, without or Men or Armes,
With Daughters two, he went to seek the rest,
Praying our God them shield from further harmes,
For he it is by whom we must be blest.
Now after all these sad and heavy Tales,
Their Vessell shortly brought them to South-Wales.
66.
Two of his Boyes he found upon that Coast,
A friendly
Capt. Weston and his wife.
Couple took the third away:
He was the youngest whom they tendred most,
Not having of their owne wherewith to play:
A Lad for feature might attend a Prince,
Where he is, God knowes, wee never saw him since.
67.
Here was he brought before the Admirall,
For that a Souldier he was deem'd to be,
And then presented to th' Major-Generall,
A very worthy gallant man was he;
And had withall as generous a wife,
As I have ever knowne in all my life.
68.
This gentle Lady, and with her
Mistris Can­non.
another,
Took both his Daughters with such kinde respect,
None could doe more, except it were a mother;
Such goodnesse doe these Countrey folke affect:
If others blanch, we speak what we have found,
We never set our feet on kinder ground.
69.
But now into the Army he must goe,
For so he will that there commands the Seas;
Whatsoe're he thinks, 'tis bootlesse to say no,
He is in hands that may doe what they please.
And now againe his heart strange passion feeles,
Yet goe he must, or else may goe by th' heeles.
70.
Yet sure these two
Major Gen. Laughorne. Captaine Swanley.
were very worthy men,
The one by Land, the other on the Sea,
They soon contriv'd employment for him then,
He used there that time no other plea.
But when he had well look'd into the Cause,
He thought it hard that subjects should give Lawes.
71.
Things were too high for him to understand,
He could not see good reason for these broyles,
That thus infested this unhappy land,
And hook't us into such unwelcome toyles.
Yet while he stayed, he did refuse no duty,
But had no skill to plunder, or get booty.
72.
To pay the Souldier Money there was none;
Alack poore Countrey-folke what have you done?
He thought it better farre for to be gone,
Then thus upon your score so deep to run.
For truth to tell in briefe, by fraud or force,
So [...]k you neither Sheep, nor Cow, or Horse,
73.
Thus Service done, he once more License had,
With him and his againe to crosse the Seas;
The way by land at that time was but bad,
And they that ventur'd found but little ease:
By long and irksome Sea about they came
To London, where they found untoward game.
74.
Such way was cast for them to seek Arreare,
The like I thinke was never yet invented,
It put them to such trouble and such feare,
Some fret and fume, some sigh, and all lamented.
At length it comes from Cloak to Welch-mans Button,
But findes them neither Pottage, Beefe, or Mutton.
75.
Then back to Ireland he imployment sought,
As was most proper where he lost his Lands,
Where Wife and Children dyed, one sister caught,
And cruell murdered by the Rebells hands,
Another stript of all he cloathes and goods,
As she past through the Irish Rogges and Woods.
76.
Some people jealous, doth not us confide,
They thinke we are not fit to serve their turne,
Th' our Integrity hath been often t y'd,
When Townes and Houses 'bout our eares did burne,
Or whether it be to confound the Monarchy,
And raise in stead thereof confus'd Anarchy.
77.
Peece of a Souldier he is from his youth,
In Low-Countries, Denmarke, and in Ireland;
Then who can him detract not sparing truth:
None will I'me sure but some hellish Fire-brand,
That goes about to wrack both Church and State,
Confounded will they be that truth doe hate.
☞ 78.
Yet promise upon promise he hath had,
As if some good to him they did intend,
But with delay enough to make one mad,
Nor can he yet procure successefull end.
Commission on Commission he obtain'd,
Yet on such termes, as nought by them he gain'd.
79.
His Sonne hath in this Army served truely,
In Wales and Ireland from his tender age;
His Pay from him detained is unduely,
Since he for Ireland likewise did engage.
Though they have waited till they pawn'd their Coat,
Hee's forc'd to goe (poore youth) with ne're a Groat.
80.
Part of their owne yet give, if you have heart,
Himselfe and Children left, alive too keep,
And doe it soon, for now it is your part
To make them smile that long have cause to weep.
Thus have you heard a story of more woe,
Then that of Iuliet and Romeo.
FINIS.

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