%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Londons Glory, and Whittingtons Renown / OR, / A Looking-Glass for Citizens of LONDON. / Being a Remarkable Story, how Sir Richard Whittington (a poor Boy bred up / in Lancashire) came to be three times Lord Mayor of London in three several / Kings Reigns, and how his rife was by a Cat, which he sent for a Venture be- / yond Sea. Together with his Bountiful Gifts and Liberality given to this / Honourable City: And the vast Sums of Money he lent the King to maintain / the VVars in France. And how at a great Feast to which he invited the / King, the Queen, and the Nobility, He Generously Burnt the Writings, / and freely forgave his Majesty the whole Debt. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1640-1640 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/21/2011 30404

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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

R216022 1 Dainty come thou to me UNKNOWN Dainty Come Thou to Me BRave London Prentices, / come listen to my Song, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 58 3: 59 Londons Glory, and Whittingtons Renown / OR, / A Looking-Glass for Citizens of LONDON. / Being a Remarkable Story, how Sir Richard Whittington (a poor Boy bred up / in Lancashire) came to be three times Lord Mayor of London in three several / Kings Reigns, and how his rife was by a Cat, which he sent for a Venture be- / yond Sea. Together with his Bountiful Gifts and Liberality given to this / Honourable City: And the vast Sums of Money he lent the King to maintain / the VVars in France. And how at a great Feast to which he invited the / King, the Queen, and the Nobility, He Generously Burnt the Writings, / and freely forgave his Majesty the whole Debt. 1640-1640 R. Burton

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity 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 youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/21/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America animals/ nature buildings/ architecture class London politics/ government royalty Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/21/2011 11:18:03 AM XBallad Mellon, Gillian Created XML Version of Ballad 4/21/2011 11:18:03 AM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/21/2011 11:18:03 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/21/2011 11:18:03 AM Transcriptionist Two Hehmeyer, Paxton Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/21/2011 11:18:03 AM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/24/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/26/2010 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/26/2010 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/26/2010 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/15/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/18/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/18/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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BRave London Prentices, come listen to my Song, Tis for your glory all, and to you doth belong, And you poor Country Lads, though born of low degree See by gods providence, what you in time may bee, Hear must I tell the praise, of worthy whittington, Known to be in his dayes, thrice Lord Mayor of London,
But of poore parentage, born was he as we heare, And in his tender age, bred up in Lancashire. Prooly to London, then, came up this Simple lad, Where with a Marchant-man, soon he a dwelling had, And in a Kitchen placd a Scullion for to be, Where a long time he past, in drudging slavery.
His dayly service was, turning Spitts at the fire, And to scour potts of Brass, for a poore Scullions hire, A sharp Cook Maid there was, that beat him day by day, Which made him in his mind, think for to run away. So from the Marchant-man, Whittington secretly, Towards his Country ran, to gaine his liberty, But as he went along, in a faire Summers morn, Londons Bells sweetly rung, Whittington back return. Evermore sonndiry so, turn again Whittington, And thou in time shall be, Lord Mayor of London Whereupon badk againe, Whittington came with speed, A prentice to remaine as the Lord had decreed. Still blessed be the Bells, this was his daily Song, Which my good fortune tells, most sweetly have they rung. If God so favour me, I will not prove unkind; London my Love shall see, and my large bounties find. But see this happy chance, Whittington had a Cat, Which he a venture sent
and got his wealth by that. For from Foreign Land where Rats & Mice abound. They brought him for his Cat many a fair thousand pound. When as they home were come with their Ship Laden so, Whittingtons wealth began, by this Cat thus to grow: Scullions life he forsook, to be a Merchant good, And soon he began to look, how well his credit stood. Soon after he was chose Sheriff of the City here, And then he quickly rose higher as did appear. For to this Citys praise, Sir Richard Whittington, Came to be in his days, thrice Lord Mayor of London. More his fame to advance, thousands he lent his King, To maintain Wars in France honour from thence to bring. And after at a Feast, which he the King did make Burnt the Bonds as a jest and would no money take. Ten thousand pound he gave, to his Prince willingly, And would no penny have for his kind courtesie: As God thus made him great, so he would daily see,
Poor people fed with meat, to shew his Charity. Prisoners poor, Cherisht were, widows sweet, comfort found, Good deeds both far and near of him do still resound: Whittingtons Colledge is one of his Charities, And a fair Church he built to lasting memories. New-gate he builded fair, for Prisoners to lye in; Christs Church he did repair, Christian love for to win. Many more such like deeds, were done by Whittington, Which joy and comfort breeds to all that look thereon. Let all brave Citizens who do this story read, By his example learn, always the poor to feed, What is lent to the Poor, the Lord will sure repay, And Blessings keep in store until the latter day. Lancashire thou hast bred, this flower of Charity, Though he be dead and gone, yet lives his Memory. Those Bells that calld him so, turn again Whittington, Would they call many moe such men to fair LONDON.
London, Printed for R. Burton. at the Horse-shoe in West Smithfield.