Will and Testament

W
The time is come I must departe
from thee, ah, famous Citie:
I never yet, to rue my smart,
did finde that thou hadst pitie,
Wherefore small cause ther is, that I
should greeve from thee to go:
But many Women foolyshly,
lyke me, and other moe.
Doe such a fyxed fancy set,
on those which least desarve,
That long it is ere wit we get,
away from them to swarve,
But tyme with pittie oft wyl tel
to those that wil her try:
Whether it best be more to mell,
or vtterly defye.
And now hath time me put in mind,
of thy great cruelnes:
That never once a help wold finde,
to ease me in distres.
Thou never yet woldst credit geve
to boord me for a yeare:
Nor with Apparell me releve
except thou payed weare.
No, no, thou never didst me good,
nor ever wilt, I know:
Yet am I in no angry moode,
but wyll, or ere I goe,
In perfect love and charytie
my Testament here write:
And leave to thee such Treasurye,
as I in it recyte.
Now stand a side and geve me leave
to write my latest Wyll:
And see that none you do deceave,
of that I leave them tyl.

I whole in body, and in minde,
but very weake in Purse:
Doo make, and write my Testament
for feare it wyll be wurse.
And fyrst I wholy doo commend,
my Soule and Body eke:
To god the father and the son,
so long as I can speake.
And after speach: my Soule to hym,
and Body to the Grave:
Tyll time that all shall rise agayne,
their Judgement for to have.
And then I hope they both shal meete.
to dwell for aye in ioye:
Whereas I trust to see my Friends
releast, from all annoy.
Thus have you heard touching my soule,
and body what I meane:
I trust you all wyll witnes beare,
I have a stedfast brayne.

And now let mee dispose such things,
as I shal leave behinde:
That those which shall receave the same,
may know my wylling minde.
I firste of all to London leave
because I there was bred:
Braue buildyngs rare, of Churches store,
and Pauls to the head.
Betweene the same: fayre streats there bee,
and people goodly store:
Because their keeping craveth cost,
I yet wil leave him more.
First for their foode, I Butchers leave,
that every day shall kyll:
By Thames you shal have Brewers store,
and Bakers at your wyll.
And such as orders doo obserue,
and eat fish thrice a weeke:
I leave two Streets, full fraught therwith,
they neede not farre to seeke.
Watlyng Streete, and Canwyck streete,
I full of Wollen leave:
And Linnen store in Friday streete,
if they mee not deceave.
And those which are of callyng such,
that costlier they require:
I Mercers leave, with silke so rich,
as any would desyre.
In Cheape of them, they store shal finde
and likewise in that streete:
I Goldsmithes leave, with Iuels such,
as are for Ladies meete.
And Plate to furnysh Cubbards with,
full braue there shall you finde:
With Purle of Siluer and of Golde,
to satisfye your minde.
With Hoods, Bungraces, Hats or Caps,
such store are in that streete:
As if on ton side you should misse
the tother serues you feete.
For Nets of every kynd of sort,
I leave within the pawne:
French Ruffes, high Purles, Gorgets and Sleeves
of any kind of Lawne.
For Purse or Kniues, for Combe or Glasse,
or any needeful knacke
I by the Stoks have left a Boy,
wil aske you what you lack.
I Hose doo leave in Birchin Lane,
of any kynd of syse:
For Women stitchte, for men both Trunks
and those of Gascoyne gise.
Bootes, Shoes or Pantables good store,
Saint Martins hath for you:
In Cornwall, there I leave you Beds,
and all that longs thereto.
For Women shall you Taylors have,
by Bow, the chiefest dwel:
In every Lane you some shall finde,
can doo indifferent well.
And for the men, few Streetes or Lanes,
but Bodymakers bee:
And such as make the sweeping Cloakes,
with Gardes beneth the Knee.
Artyllery at Temple Bar,
and Dagges at Tower hyll:
Swords and Bucklers of the best,
are nye the Fleete vntyll.
Now when thy Folke are fed and clad
with such as I have namde:
For daynty mouthes, and stomacks weake
some Iunckets must be framde.
Wherfore I Poticaries leave,
with Banquets in their Shop:
Phisicians also for the sicke,
Diseases for to stop.
Some Roysters styll, must bide in thee,
and such as cut it out:
That with the guiltlesse quarel wyl,
to let their blood about.
For them I cunning Surgions leave,
some Playsters to apply.
That Ruffians may not styll be hangde,
nor quiet persons dye.
For Salt, Otemeale, Candles, Sope,
or what you els doo want:
In many places, Shops are full,
I left you nothing scant.
Yf they that keepe what I you leave,
aske Mony: when they sell it:
At Mint, there is such store, it is
vnpossible to tell it.
At Stiliarde store of Wines there bee,
your dulled mindes to glad:
And handsome men, that must not wed
except they leave their trade.
They oft shal seeke for proper Gyrles,
and some perhaps shall fynde:
(That neede compels, or lucre lures
to satisfye their mind.)
And neare the same, I houses leave,
for people to repayre:
To bathe themselues, so to preuent
infection of the ayre.
On Saturdayes I wish that those,
which all the weeke doo drug:
Shall thyther trudge, to trim them vp
on Sondayes to looke smug.
Yf any other thing be lackt
in thee, I wysh them looke:
For there it is: I little brought
but nothyng from thee tooke.
Now for the people in thee left,
I have done as I may:
And that the poore, when I am gone,
have cause for me to pray.
I wyll to prisons portions leave,
what though but very small:
Yet that they may remember me,
occasion be it shall:
And fyrst the Counter they shal have,
least they should go to wrack:
Some Coggers, and some honest men,
that Sergantes draw a back.
And such as Friends wyl not them bayle,
whose coyne is very thin:
For them I leave a certayne hole,
and little ease within.
The Newgate once a Monthe shal have
a sessions for his share:
Least being heapt, Infection might
procure a further care.
And at those sessions some shal skape,
with burning nere the Thumb:
And afterward to beg their fees,
tyll they have got the some.
And such whose deedes deserueth death,
and twelue have found the same:
They shall be drawne vp Holborne hill,
to come to further shame:
Well, yet to such I leave a Nag
shal soone their sorowes cease:
For he shal either breake their necks
or gallop from the preace.
The Fleete, not in their circuit is,
yet if I geve him nought:
It might procure his curse, ere I
unto the ground be brought.
Wherfore I leave some Papist olde
to vnder prop his roofe:
And to the poore within the same,
a Boxe for their behoofe.
What makes you standers by to smile.
and laugh so in your sleeve:
I thinke it is, because that I
to Ludgate nothing geve.
I am not now in case to lye,
here is no place of iest:
I dyd reserve, that for my selfe,
yf I my health possest.
And ever came in credit so
a debtor for to bee.
When dayes of paiment did approch,
I thither ment to flee.
To shroude my selfe amongst the rest,
that chuse to dye in debt:
Rather then any Creditor,
should money from them get.
Yet cause I feele my selfe so weake
that none mee credit dare:
I heere reuoke: and doo it leave,
some Banckrupts to his share.
To all the Bookebinders by Paulles
because I lyke their Arte:
They e'ry weeke shal mony have,
when they from Bookes departe.
Amongst them all, my Printer must,
have somwhat to his share:
I wyll my Friends these Bookes to bye
of him, with other ware.
For Maydens poore, I Widdoers ritch,
do leave, that oft shall dote:
And by that meanes shal mary them,
to set the Girles aflote.
And wealthy Widdowes wil I leave,
to help yong Gentylmen:
Which when you have, in any case
be courteous to them then:
And see their Plate and Iewells eake
may not be mard with rust.
Nor let their Bags too long be full,
for feare that they doo burst.
To e'ry Gate vnder the walles,
that compas thee about:
I Fruit wives leave to entertayne
such as come in and out.
To Smithfeelde I must something leave
my Parents there did dwell:
So carelesse for to be of it,
none wolde accompt it well.
Wherfore it thrice a weeke shall have,
of Horse and neat good store,
And in his Spitle, blynd and lame,
to dwell for evermore.
And Bedlem must not be forgot,
for that was oft my walke:
I people there too many leave,
that out of tune doo talke.
At Bridewel there shal Bedelles be,
and Matrones that shal styll
See Chalke wel chopt, and spinning plyde,
and turning of the Mill.
For such as cannot quiet bee,
but striue for house or Land:
At Th' innes of Court, I Lawyers leave
to take their cause in hand.
And also leave I at ech Inne
of Court, or Chauncerye:
Of Gentylmen, a youthfull roote,
full of Actiuytie:
For whom I store of Bookes have left,
at each Bookebinders stall:
And parte of all that London hath
to furnish them withall.
And when they are with study cloyd:
to recreate theyr minde:
Of Tennis Courts, of dauncing Scooles,
and fence they store shal finde.
And every Sonday at the least,
I leave to make them sport.
In diuers places Players, that
of wonders shall reporte.
Now London have I (for thy sake)
within thee, and without:
As coms into my memory,
dispearsed round about
Such needfull thinges, as they should have
heere left now unto thee:
When I am gon, with consience,
let them dispearced bee.
And though I nothing named have,
to bury mee withall:
Consider that aboue the ground,
annoyance bee I shall.
And let me have a shrowding Sheete
to couer mee from shame:
And in obliuyon bury mee
and never more mee name.
Ringings nor other Ceremonies,
vse you not for cost:
Nor at my buriall, make no feast,
your mony were but lost.
Reioyce in God that I am gon,
out of this vale so vile.
And that of ech thing, left such store,
as may your wants exile.
I make thee sole executor, because
I lou'de thee best.
And thee I put in trust, to geve
the goodes unto the rest.
Because thou shalt a helper neede,
In this so great a chardge,
I wysh good Fortune, be thy guide, least
thou shouldst run at lardge.
The happy dayes and quiet times,
they both her Seruants bee.
Which well wyll serue to fetch and bring,
such things as neede to thee.

Wherfore (good London) not refuse,
for helper her to take:
Thus being weake and wery both
an end heere wyll I make.
To all that aske what end I made,
and how I went away:
Thou answer maist like those which heere,
no longer tary may.
And unto all that wysh mee well,
or rue that I am gon:
Doo me comend, and bid them cease
my absence for to mone.
And tell them further, if they wolde,
my presence styll have had:
They should have sought to mend my luck;
which ever was too bad.
So fare thou well a thousand times,
God sheelde thee from thy foe:
And styll make thee victorious,
of those that seeke thy woe.
And (though I am perswade) that I
shall never more thee see:
Yet to the last, I shal not cease
to wish much good to thee.
This, xx. of October I,
in ANNO DOMINI:
A Thousand: v. hundred seuenty three
as Alminacks descry.
Did write this Wyll with mine owne hand
and it to London gaue:
In witnes of the standers by,
whose names yf you wyll have.
Paper, Pen and Standish were:
at that same present by:
With Time, who promised to reveale,
so fast as she could hye
The same: least of my nearer kyn,
for any thing should vary:
So finally I make an end
no longer can I tary.
Rating:

Comment form:

*Max text - 1500. Manual moderation.

Similar Poems:

A Friendly Address by Thomas Hood
Thomas Hood
TO MRS. FRY IN NEWGATE

Sermons in stones.—As You Like It.
Out! out! damned spot.—Macbeth. I like you, Mrs. Fry! I like your name!
Read Poem
0
226
Rating:

from Hero and Leander: "It lies not in our power to love or hate" by Christopher Marlowe
Christopher Marlowe
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should lose, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
Read Poem
0
169
Rating:

The Garden of Proserpine by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Here, where the world is quiet;
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
A sleepy world of streams.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Read Poem
0
180
Rating:

The War Films by Henry Newbolt
Henry Newbolt
O living pictures of the dead,
O songs without a sound,
O fellowship whose phantom tread
Hallows a phantom ground—
How in a gleam have these revealed
The faith we had not found.

We have sought God in a cloudy Heaven,
We have passed by God on earth:
His seven sins and his sorrows seven,
His wayworn mood and mirth,
Like a ragged cloak have hid from us
The secret of his birth.

Brother of men, when now I see
Read Poem
0
142
Rating:

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Read Poem
2
387
Rating:

"How can I keep my maidenhead" by Robert Burns
Robert Burns
How can I keep my maidenhead,
My maidenhead, my maidenhead;
How can I keep my maidenhead,
Among sae mony men, O.

The Captain bad a guinea for’t,
A guinea for’t, a guinea for’t,
The Captain bad a guinea for’t,
The Colonel he bad ten, O.

But I’ll do as my minnie did,
My minnie did, my minnie did,
But I’ll do as my minnie did,
For siller I’ll hae nane, O.

Read Poem
0
269
Rating:

As the Dead Prey Upon Us by Charles Olson
Charles Olson
As the dead prey upon us,
they are the dead in ourselves,
awake, my sleeping ones, I cry out to you,
disentangle the nets of being!

I pushed my car, it had been sitting so long unused.
I thought the tires looked as though they only needed air.
But suddenly the huge underbody was above me, and the rear tires
were masses of rubber and thread variously clinging together
Read Poem
0
198
Rating:

Voyages by Hart Crane
Hart Crane
I

Above the fresh ruffles of the surf
Bright striped urchins flay each other with sand.
They have contrived a conquest for shell shucks,
And their fingers crumble fragments of baked weed
Gaily digging and scattering.

And in answer to their treble interjections
The sun beats lightning on the waves,
Read Poem
0
165
Rating:

Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market by Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Here,
among the market vegetables,
this torpedo
from the ocean
depths,
a missile
that swam,
now
Read Poem
0
165
Rating:

from Paradiso: Canto 33 (lines 46-48, 52-66) by Dante Alighieri
Dante Alighieri
As I drew nearer to the end of all desire,
I brought my longing's ardor to a final height,
Just as I ought. My vision, becoming pure,

Entered more and more the beam of that high light
That shines on its own truth. From then, my seeing
Became too large for speech, which fails at a sight

Beyond all boundaries, at memory's undoing—
As when the dreamer sees and after the dream
Read Poem
0
124
Rating:

Psalm 114 by Isaac Watts
Isaac Watts
Miracles Attending Israel’s Journey When Isr’el, freed from Pharaoh’s hand,
Left the proud tyrant and his land,
The tribes with cheerful homage own
Their king; and Judah was his throne.
Read Poem
0
152
Rating:

The Bear Hunt by Abraham Lincoln
Abraham Lincoln
A wild-bear chace, didst never see?
Then hast thou lived in vain.
Thy richest bump of glorious glee,
Lies desert in thy brain.

When first my father settled here,
’Twas then the frontier line:
The panther’s scream, filled night with fear
Read Poem
0
182
Rating:

Faces at the First Farmworkers’ Constitutional Convention by José Montoya
José Montoya
Just the other day
In Fresno
In a giant arena
Architectured
To reject the very poor
Cesar Chavez brought
The very poor
Together
Read Poem
0
270
Rating:

Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse by Matthew Arnold
Matthew Arnold
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused
With rain, where thick the crocus blows,
Past the dark forges long disused,
The mule-track from Saint Laurent goes.
The bridge is cross'd, and slow we ride,
Through forest, up the mountain-side.

The autumnal evening darkens round,
The wind is up, and drives the rain;
While, hark! far down, with strangled sound
Doth the Dead Guier's stream complain,
Where that wet smoke, among the woods,
Over his boiling cauldron broods.

Swift rush the spectral vapours white
Read Poem
0
171
Rating:

Streets in Shanghai by Tomas Tranströmer
Tomas Tranströmer
1
The white butterfly in the park is being read by many.
I love that cabbage-moth as if it were a fluttering corner of truth itself!

At dawn the running crowds set our quiet planet in motion.
Then the park fills with people. To each one, eight faces polished like jade, for all
situations, to avoid making mistakes.
To each one, there's also the invisible face reflecting "something you don't talk about."
Something that appears in tired moments and is as rank as a gulp of viper schnapps with its long scaly aftertaste.
Read Poem
0
349
Rating:

Bread by Kamau Brathwaite
Kamau Brathwaite
Slowly the white dream wrestle(s) to life
hands shaping the salt and the foreign cornfields
the cold flesh kneaded by fingers
is ready for the charcoal for the black wife

of heat the years of green sleeping in the volcano.
the dream becomes tougher. settling into its shape
like a bullfrog. suns rise and electrons
touch it. walls melt into brown. moving to crisp and crackle
Read Poem
0
730
Rating:

The Presence by Odysseus Elytis
Odysseus Elytis
MARIA NEFELE:
I walk in thorns in the dark
of what’s to happen and what has
with my only weapon my only defense
my nails purple like cyclamens.

ANTIPHONIST:
I saw her everywhere. Holding a glass and staring in space. Lying down
listening to records. Walking the streets in wide trousers and an old
Read Poem
0
201
Rating:

Prometheus by Lord Byron (George Gordon)
Lord Byron (George Gordon)
Titan! to whose immortal eyes
The sufferings of mortality,
Seen in their sad reality,
Were not as things that gods despise;
What was thy pity's recompense?
A silent suffering, and intense;
The rock, the vulture, and the chain,
All that the proud can feel of pain,
The agony they do not show,
The suffocating sense of woe,
Which speaks but in its loneliness,
And then is jealous lest the sky
Should have a listener, nor will sigh
Until its voice is echoless.

Read Poem
0
188
Rating:

Felonies and Arias of the Heart by Frank Lima
Frank Lima
I need more time, a simple day in Paris hotels and window shopping.
The croissants will not bake themselves and the Tower of London would
Like to spend a night in the tropics with gray sassy paint. It has many
Wounds and historic serial dreams under contract to Hollywood.
Who will play the head of Mary, Queen of Scots, and who will braid her

Hair? Was it she who left her lips on the block for the executioner,
Whose hands would never find ablution, who would never touch a woman
Again or eat the flesh of a red animal? Blood pudding would repulse him
Until joining Anne. That is the way of history written for Marlow and
Shakespear. They are with us now that we are sober and wiser,

Not taking the horrors of poetry too seriously. Why am I telling you this
Nonsense, when I have never seen you sip your coffee or tea,
In the morning? Not to mention,
Read Poem
0
184
Rating:

In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 106 by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Read Poem
0
160
Rating: