%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> AN / ELEGY / On the DEATH of Mr. WILLIAM SHERWOOD, / Victualler at the Sign / of the Lion and Ball in Red Lion-street, who after having lain for some time, / in State, was Buried at St. Andrews, Holbourn, on Tuesday the 22d. instant, / his Corps being Attended by 300 Persons, besides several Files of Granadeers, / of which he was Lieutenant. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1699-1699 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/04/2012 32170

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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

R210833 AT last our Hopes are fled, and he's departed, / And leaves us Fudling Sinners broken hearted, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 29432 AN / ELEGY / On the DEATH of Mr. WILLIAM SHERWOOD, / Victualler at the Sign / of the Lion and Ball in Red Lion-street, who after having lain for some time, / in State, was Buried at St. Andrews, Holbourn, on Tuesday the 22d. instant, / his Corps being Attended by 300 Persons, besides several Files of Granadeers, / of which he was Lieutenant. AN ELEGY On the DEATH of Mr. WILLIAM SHERWOOD, Victualler at the Sign of the Lion and Ball in Red Lion-street, who after having lain for some time, in State, was Buried at St. Andrews, Holbourn, on Tuesday the 22d. instant, his Corps being Attended by 300 Persons, besides several Files of Granadeers, of which he was Lieutenant. AN ELEGY On the DEATH of Mr. WILLIAM SHERWOOD, Victualler at the Sign of the Lion and Ball in Red Lion-street, who after having lain for some time, in State, was Buried at St. Andrews, Holborn, on Tuesday the 22d. instant, his Corps being Attended by 300 Persons, besides several Files of Grenadiers, of which he was Lieutenant. 1699-1699 A.B.

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/4/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America alcohol death military/ war Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/4/2012 1:47:43 PM XBallad Mendoza, Aaron Created XML Version of Ballad 6/4/2012 1:47:43 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/4/2012 1:47:43 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/4/2012 1:47:43 PM Transcriptionist Two Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/4/2012 1:47:43 PM Transcriptionist One Wong, Bethany Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/14/2011 Checker Jonathan Forbes Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/30/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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AT last our Hopes are fled, and hes departed, And leaves us Fudling Sinners broken hearted, To think how Death could take delight in Bauking The bold Designs of Honourable Chalking; Who now shall set young Lawyers Clerks a roaring, And countenance the Noble Art of Scoring? Who shall instruct the Soldiers in procedure, And dare to give Cross words to Grim File-Leader, Who Cloathd in Buff, disdains Reproof, and scorns To use his Gun, since he can use his Horns? Ah Sherwood, to thy great Examples owing That Sots are skilld in Drink, and Warriors knowing, That Bars are renderd White by Midnight debtors And many a Name is Bookd in Ample Letters; And should thy vertues want to be recorded, Thy Transcendent Worth be unrewarded, How would this Thankless Age be calld Ungrateful, And hearty Soakers go without their Pate-full? High were thy Thoughts, and Soaring thy Designs Above thy Station, and above our Lines. Thy Mind as frothy as thy Working Ale But Sour thy Temper like thy Beer when Stale. Yet thou hadst Vertues, and couldst rarely Nick it, When thou vouchsafst thyself to turn the Spicket; And being gracious pleasd to let the Tap run, Quitting thy glorious Sash for foul Blew Apron: Witness the many Pots of Purle, Ive seen Drawn by thy Hands, most nicely dashd, and clean; And potent Mugs of powerful Ale and Beer, Frothing at Top, as if thy Mind was there. But I do wrong to this departed Ghost In treating him, as if a Common Host. His Frowns Command, and charge me to forbear, And lose the Vic[?]ler in the Man of War. Methinks I see him on a Muster-day, Dressd like a Hero, Fanciful and Gay; The Face well Scourd with Soap, and by his side, There stands the price of Majesty his Bride, Who puts his Ruffles into Pleits, and dresses Her Charming Spouse with thousand soft Caresses, As his proud Soul contemplates his Condition, And thanks Short-Pots for getting his Commission; Whilst he gives Drink for Name of Noble Captain. Perceiving not the snares which he is trapt in. Awful he looks, and dreadful to the Sight, And meditates the pleasures of the Fight; Which stead of Dangers, and of hateful Bullets Presents him with Roast-Beef, and Legs of Pullets. But why alas! Am I thus long deceivd? And fancie life in one of Life bereavd? Yonder He lies, and breathless is his Carcass Damnt, I could almost Swear, tis such a hard Case. Behold the Champion, who when living durst Fight to appease his Hunger and his Thirst, In Bloodless Battles, and in harmless Broils, Employd his Labours, and pursud his Soils, Now Moulder into Ashes, and decline
Speechless, as is the Lyon on his Sign. O Death! What mischief did ere Sherwood do thee? Though He Killd none, his Liquors sent em to thee; His Punch, his Brandy, and his Heathnish Spirits Might have attond for his default of Merits, Since Carbuncled Offenders come by Scores And own the Conquest of his damnd All-fours; As they with glancing Pimples on their Faces Illuminate thy dark and loathsome places. But I in vain my sighs and tears have spent, And fruitless vows for Sherwood upwards sent, Sighs are in vain, unless their cause was juster, Hell nere return again to go to Muster: And fearless of Abuses or of Slander Will shew himself a terrible Commander. Yet Heavens be praisd, that though the Tapsters gone The taps are still in use, and Spickets run, That the blest Cellar which Hhas left, produces [?]some Liquors, and Caelestial Juices, [?] chose who such a Loss survive, Happy in Life, if those but keep alive. EPITAPH. BEneath this silent Stone there lies An insolent House-holder, Who living followed two Employs, A Victualler and a Soldier, The first Employment swelld his purse, The last puft up his Mind, Which of the twos the greatest Curse Een let the Readers find. His Wealth, that purchasd him his Pride, His Pride got a Commission But what that got we cant decide, Who know not his Condition. Hes dead and thats enough tacquaint A Man of any sense, That if Hes looking for a Saint He must go farther hence. Short Pots you know and under sizd May chance to get Estates But never make us Canonizd Or open Heavens Gates. A Tawdry Sash may also shew The Post a Man inherits, But Reader neither I nor you Can swear that Man has Merits. What ere he was, tis all the same To me who am a Writing; You give him but a Sinners Name, Ill swear his Sin want Fighting.
FINIS. LONDON: Printed for A.B. near Chancery-Lane. 1699.