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.
574
Rating:

Comment form:

*Max text - 1500. Manual moderation.

Similar Poems:

The Craftsman by Marcus B. Christian
Marcus B. Christian
I ply with all the cunning of my art This little thing, and with consummate care
I fashion it—so that when I depart,
Those who come after me shall find it fair
And beautiful. It must be free of flaws—
Pointing no laborings of weary hands;
Read Poem
0
473
Rating:

Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood by William Wordsworth
William Wordsworth
The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
(Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")
Read Poem
0
880
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
539
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
774
Rating:

Playroom by Mary Barnard
Mary Barnard
Wheel of sorrow, centerless.
Voices, sad without cause,
slope upward, expiring on grave summits.
Mournfulness of muddy playgrounds,
raw smell of rubbers and wrapped lunches
when little girls stand in a circle singing
of windows and of lovers.

Hearing them, no one could tell
Read Poem
0
412
Rating:

“Where does such tenderness come from?” by Marina Tsvetaeva
Marina Tsvetaeva
Where does such tenderness come from?
These aren’t the first curls
I’ve wound around my finger—
I’ve kissed lips darker than yours.

The sky is washed and dark
(Where does such tenderness come from?)
Other eyes have known
and shifted away from my eyes.

But I’ve never heard words like this
in the night
(Where does such tenderness come from?)
with my head on your chest, rest.

Read Poem
0
564
Rating:

Sonnet: “Upon a day, came Sorrow in to me” by Dante Alighieri
Dante Alighieri
on the 9th of June 1290 Upon a day, came Sorrow in to me,
Saying, ‘I’ve come to stay with thee a while’;
Read Poem
0
430
Rating:

One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII by Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
Read Poem
0
532
Rating:

God Bless America by John Fuller
John Fuller
When they confess that they have lost the penial bone and outer space is
Once again a numinous void, when they’re kept out of Other Places,
And Dr Fieser falls asleep at last and dreams of unburnt faces,
When gold medals are won by the ton for forgetting about the different races, God Bless America.

When in the Latin shanties the scented priesthood suffers metempsychosis
And with an organ entry tutti copula the dollar uncrosses
Read Poem
0
509
Rating:

Betrothed by Louise Bogan
Louise Bogan
You have put your two hands upon me, and your mouth,
You have said my name as a prayer.
Here where trees are planted by the water
I have watched your eyes, cleansed from regret,
And your lips, closed over all that love cannot say,

My mother remembers the agony of her womb
And long years that seemed to promise more than this.
She says, “You do not love me,
Read Poem
0
560
Rating:

The Swamp Angel by Herman Melville
Herman Melville
There is a coal-black Angel
With a thick Afric lip,
And he dwells (like the hunted and harried)
In a swamp where the green frogs dip.
But his face is against a City
Which is over a bay of the sea,
And he breathes with a breath that is blastment,
And dooms by a far decree.
Read Poem
0
566
Rating:

Love Song No. 3 by Sonia Sanchez
Sonia Sanchez
1.
i'm crazy bout that chile but she gotta go.
she don't pay me no mind no mo. guess her
mama was right to put her out cuz she
couldn't do nothin wid her. but she been
mine so long. she been my heart so long
now she breakin it wid her bad habits.
always runnin like a machine out of control;
Read Poem
0
577
Rating:

from Don Juan: Canto 1, Stanzas 60-63 by Lord Byron (George Gordon)
Lord Byron (George Gordon)
60
Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise
Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire,
And love than either; and there would arise
A something in them which was not desire,
But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul
Which struggled through and chasten'd down the whole.

61
Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair, and smooth;
Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow,
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth,
Read Poem
0
505
Rating:

from Don Juan: Canto 1, Stanzas 217-221 by Lord Byron (George Gordon)
Lord Byron (George Gordon)
217
Ambition was my idol, which was broken
Before the shrines of Sorrow and of Pleasure;
And the two last have left me many a token
O'er which reflection may be made at leisure:
Now, like Friar Bacon's brazen head, I've spoken,
'Time is, Time was, Time's past', a chymic treasure
Is glittering youth, which I have spent betimes—
My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
Read Poem
0
527
Rating:

"I cry your mercy-pity-love! -aye, love!" by John Keats
John Keats
I cry your mercy—pity—love!—aye, love!
Merciful love that tantalizes not,
One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
Unmasked, and being seen—without a blot!
O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!
That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest
Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,
That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,
Read Poem
0
502
Rating:

Meeting Point by Louis MacNeice
Louis MacNeice
Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people with the one pulse
(Somebody stopped the moving stairs):
Time was away and somewhere else.

And they were neither up nor down;
The stream’s music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
Read Poem
0
591
Rating:

The Ecstasy by John Donne
John Donne
Where, like a pillow on a bed
A pregnant bank swell'd up to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.
Our hands were firmly cemented
With a fast balm, which thence did spring;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string;
So to'intergraft our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one,
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.
As 'twixt two equal armies fate
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls (which to advance their state
Read Poem
0
674
Rating:

from Rubaiyat: "A Book of Verses underneath the Bough" by Omar Khayaam
Omar Khayaam
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, A Loaf of Bread—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

Read Poem
0
474
Rating:

From Maud: O that 'twere possible by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
O that ’twere possible
After long grief and pain
To find the arms of my true love
Round me once again!...

A shadow flits before me,
Not thou, but like to thee:
Ah, Christ! that it were possible
Read Poem
1
969
Rating:

Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old by William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.
Read Poem
0
536
Rating: