%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The WORLDLINGS FAREWELL: Or, / The State of a DYING-MAN, who had always preferred Temporal / before Eternal Things, the Flesh before the Spirit. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1678-1688 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 07/09/2008 20641

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

2.15 R234241 1 Guy of VVarwick: Or Troy Town Guy of Warwick: Or Troy Town O Wretched man that lovest earthly things, / And to the World hast made thy self a thrall, Thy Uoyce doth yield a hoarse and hollow sound, / thy dying Head doth (giddy) seem to sleep, tune unclear: To the Tune of Guy of VVa[r]wick; original text faces left and in the facsimile the text faces right; second part first lines unclear: ... thy dying Head doth (giddy) seem to sleep[,]. Pepys 2.15 Wing W3589A Pepys Library The Pepys ballads : facsimile volume Editor W.G. Day D.S. Brewer Cambridge [England] 1987 Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 15 The WORLDLINGS FAREWELL: Or, / The State of a DYING-MAN, who had always preferred Temporal / before Eternal Things, the Flesh before the Spirit. The WORLDLINGS FAREWELL: Or, The State of a DYING-MAN, who had alwayes preferred Temporal before Eternal Things, the Flesh before the Spirit. To the Tune of Guy of Warwick: Or Troy Town. The Worldling's Farewell: or, The State of a Dying Man, Who Had Always Preferred Temporal before Eternal Things, the Flesh before the Spirit. The Second Part, The Second Part, The Second Part, 1/2 sheet oblong folio, 200 x 336 all edges cropped, torn right edge, damaged surface, uneven inking 1678-1688 London. Printed for W. Thackeray, T. Passenger, and W. Whitwood. W. Thackeray, T. Passenger, W. Whitwood. PBA

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 Taxonomy used by Pepys to Organize Ballads in Albums A Small Promiscuous Supplement Devotion & Morality Drinking & Good Fellowship History - True & Fabulous Humour, Frollicks &c Love Pleasant Love Pleasant and Unfortunate Love Unfortunate Marriage Sea State & Times Tragedy Various Subjects Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/health alcohol animals/nature appearance Bible/biblical figures buildings/architecture catastrophe children class clothing/fashion country/nation crime death economics/trade entertainment family/procreation folklore gender historical figures & events holidays/seasons infidelity law London love maritime marriage military/war monstrosity mythology/Classical world news nobility/court politics/government punishment religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/sexuality supernatural/magic The New World travel trickery/deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/crass humor Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 7/9/2008 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Devotion & Morality advice death punishment religiousconcepts vice 07/09/08 Checker Rachel Mann edit hist error. 07/09/08 Checker Rachel Mann Metadata updated, xml created 7/3/2007, 7/18/2007 Checker Soren Hammerschmidt Subsequently Checked Transcription, Prepared for XBallad 2006 Checker Simone R. Chess Originally Checked Transcription 7/10/2006 Transcriber Laura Miller Original Transcription 2006 Bibliographer Jessica C. Murphy Bibliographic SQL Database Record Updated/Completed 8/16/2004 Bibliographer Margaret K. Sloan Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The WORLDLINGS FAREWELL: <hi rend="bold">Or,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The State of a DYING-MAN, who had alwayes preferred <hi rend="bold">Temporal</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">before <hi rend="bold">Eternal Things</hi>, the <hi rend="bold">Flesh</hi> before the <hi rend="bold">Spirit</hi>.</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the Tune of <hi rend="bold">Guy of Warwick</hi>: Or <hi rend="bold">Troy Town</hi></hi>.</seg>
O Wretched man that lovest earthly things, And to the World hast made thy self a thrall, Whose short delight eternal sorrow brings, whose Sweets in shew, in truth are bitter Gall: & Whose Pleasures fade e're scarce they be possest And grieve them least who do them most detest. Thou art not sure one moment for to live, and at thy death thou leavest all behind, Thy Lands, thy Goods no succour then can give, Thy Pleasures past are Torments to thy mind; Thy Worldly-friends can yield thee no relief, Thy greatest Joyce will prove thy deepest Grief. The time will come when Death will thee assault: conceive it then as present for to bee, That thou in time mayst well amend thy fault,
and in thy Life thy Errour plainly see: Imagine now thy Glasse is almost spent, And mark thy Friends how deeply they lament. Thy Wife doth howl and pierce the very skyes, thy Childrens tears their sorrows do bewray, Thy Kinsfolk wail and weep with wofull cryes: yet must thou die, and canst no longer stay Amongst the Joyes and Treasures of thy Heart, Thy Race is run, from them thou must depart. With pain thou lyest gasping all for breath past hopes of Life or thoughts of any good: Thy Face presents a lively form of Death, thy Heart becomes all cold for want of Blood: Thy Nostrils shrink, and panting thou dost lye, Thy loathsome sight thy Friends begin to flye.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second Part, to the same Tune.</hi></seg>
Thy Voyce doth yield a hoarse and hollow sound, thy dying Head doth (giddy) seem to sleep, Thy sences All with sorrow do abound: thy Feet are dead, & Death doth forward creep: Thy Eyes doth sink into thy heavy Head, Thy Jawes do fall, and shew thee almost dead. What dost thou think when all thy Senses fail? what dost thou say when pleasures there be none, How dost thou now thy passed-life bewail? how dost thou wish thou hadst no cause to groan? What wouldst thou do thy ending-life to save? What wouldst thou give for that thou canst not have? Thy Body now must from thy Soul depart, thy Lands and Goods another must possess: Thy Joyes are past on which thou set'st thy Heart, thy pains to come no Creature can expresse. Loe here the fruit and gain of all thy Sinn, Thy Pleasure's past, and Pain doth now begin. THy Secret faults are set before thine eyes, and Monstrous shapes now seem on thee to gaze To swallow thee Despair in secret lyes, and all thy Sinnes with terrour thee amaze; Thy sinfull Mates have left thee now alone, And in thy Soul with sorrow thou dost groan. Thou wailest now the pleasing of thy Will, thy ill-got Goods do make thee to lament, Thy vain Delights with anguish thee do fill, thy wanton deeds thy Conscience do torment: Thy sweetest Sinnes do bring thee bitter smart, Thy heynous Faults oppress thy dying heart. With dreadful doom they threat thy doleful mind, and bent to fight, with fury thee enclose, No worldly help, no rescue canst thou find, thou standest now amidst thy mortal Foes: Several Deaths would seem a lesser pain Than this Estate wherein thou dost remain. There is no Pen, no Creature can bewray how all the Sins their festered rancour show How dyrefull Sights, and Sorrow do dismay how blustering storms of grief begin to blow: Thy Pleasure's past which was thy God before, And Pain begins to last for evermore. To save thy Life no toyl thou wouldst refuse, Nor spare thy Goods to ease thy wofull State; Of all thy Sinnes thy self thou dost accuse, and call'st for Grace when calling comes too late! For sinne thou didst, whilst life and power did last, And leavest off because thy force is past.
What booteth it thy Lewdness to repent, and leave off Sinn when Sinn forsaketh thee! What canst thou do when all thy force is spent! and will our Lord with this appeased be? Thy Life thou ledst in serving of thy Foe, Who canst thou serve when Life thou must forgo? Then had-I-wist, with sorrow thou dost say: (but After-wits repentance ever breed) The hour is come, thy Debt thou now must pay, & yield to Death when Life thou most shalt need: Thy breath is stopt in twinkling of an eye, Thy Body dead in ugly form doth lye. Thy Carkass now like Carrion men do shun, thy Friends do hast thy Burial to procure, Thy Servants seek away from thee to run, thy loathsome stink no Creature can endure, And they which took in thee their chief Delight, Do shun thee first, and most abhor thy sight. Thy Flesh must serve for Maggots as a prey, for pampering which both land & sea were sough[t] Thy Body must transformed be to Clay, for whose delight so costly Cloaths were bought Thy Pride in Dust, thy Glory in the Grave, Thy Flesh in Earth, their ending now must hav[e.] Behold the Place in which thou must abide, is loathsome, dark, unsweet, and very straigh[t] With broken Bones bespread on every side, and crawling Worms to feed on thee do wait; O hard Exchange! O dark and doleful Place! Where earth and filth thy Body must embrace. O wretched state! O most unhappy man! yet were it well if nothing were behind, If all might end as here it first began, the thing were done when crawling Guests had din'd For then as God of Nothing did thee frame, So next to Nothing should'st thou be again. But live thou must a Thousand deaths to dye: and dying still yet wholly never dead; Thou must appear before the Judge on high, and have Reward as thou thy Life hast led: Thy Time is come thou canst no longer stay, The Judge is set, and bootless is delay. Thou Christian man that yet hast Time and Gra[ce] to mend thy sinfull Life, and to repent If thou wert now before the Judges face, what would'st thou give for all thy Time mispen[t] This Day of Life might light thee to thy home; If Night should now surprise Thee, all were gone.
London. Printed for W. Thackeray, T. Passenger, and W. Whitwood.