%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> AN / EGLEY / UPON THE / Most Execrable MURTHER of / Mr. CLUN / On of the COMEDEANS of the THEATOR ROYAL, / Who was Rob'd and most inhumanely Kill'd on Tuseday-night, being the 2d, / of August, 1664. near Tatnam-Court, as he was Riding to his Country-house / at Kentishtown. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1664-1664 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 03/02/2016 34419

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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

R36182 MOurn Royal Stage, your Poets pens implore, / To cease to write, since Clun can be no more; Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1 AN / EGLEY / UPON THE / Most Execrable MURTHER of / Mr. CLUN / On of the COMEDEANS of the THEATOR ROYAL, / Who was Rob'd and most inhumanely Kill'd on Tuseday-night, being the 2d, / of August, 1664. near Tatnam-Court, as he was Riding to his Country-house / at Kentishtown. AN EGLEY UPON THE Most Execrable MURTHER of Mr. CLUN On of the COMEDEANS of the THEATOR ROYAL, Who was Rob’d and most inhumanely Kill’d on Tuseday-night, being the 2d, of August, 1664. near Tatnam-Court, as as he was Riding to his Country-house at Kentishtown. AN ELEGY UPON THE Most Execrable MURDER of Mr. CLUN One of the COMEDIANS of the THEATER ROYAL, Who was Robbed and most inhumanely Killed on Tuesday-night, being the 2nd, of August, 1664. near Tatnam-Court, as he was Riding to his Country-house at Kentishtown. Printer Edward Crowch 1664-1664

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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 Featured 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 3/2/2016 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America death entertainments news Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/2/2016 1:38:19 PM XBallad Floyd, Elizabeth Created XML Version of Ballad 3/2/2016 1:38:19 PM Transcription Supervisor Palmer, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/2/2016 1:38:19 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Levinson-Emley, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/2/2016 1:38:19 PM Transcriptionist Two Callies, Jonathan Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/2/2016 1:38:19 PM Transcriptionist One McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/25/2015 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/2/2016 Checker Katie Adkison Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/8/2014 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/29/2015 Checker Benjamin Fan Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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MOurn Royal Stage, your Poets pens implore, To cease to write, since Clun can be no more; Turn all your Sceans to black, and let them be, The Emblimes of our cares; Cluns Tragedy: Go hide your Tapestry, and Clothes of green, Act now on black, Clun will no more be seen. Be dumb you drolling wits, not sighing stand; For Comick Clun that dy'd by Tragick hand. Mirth learn to mourn, and banish all our Smiles, Since Clun has plaid the last of his Beguiles: How can my pen bid thy last Rights adue, When I want words to set thy fames forth true; 'Tis beyond Prose, or Art of humane Verse, Thy taking-Humours to their worth rehearse. Dye all desire of seeing more the Stage, Now thou art dead, the Mirrour of our Age; For in thy Action all our joyes were seen, Nor wert thou less to either King or Queen. Thou who in polished words, and Womans dress, Didst Lovers passions to the height express; And made us weep, at seeming sorrow swell, To hear and see like truth a Fiction fell: And when we frown'd at some prodigious birth, Thou in a moment chang'd that Scean to mirth; Then Smug and Bessus, Faulstaff and the rout Broke from thy Lips, to make us face about: Merry Devil of Edmun- ton. Henry 4.
Blind in our haste, will Bessus run away? Yet in the mouth of danger get the day; And thy Lieutenant in his Drink-mad-fight To gain those Trophies which was but thy right. O! but Iago, when we think on thee, Not to applaud thy vice of Flattery; Yet must that Part never in our thoughts dye, Since thou didst Act, not mean that Subtilty: Thou all of all, and only Actor he, That ere trode Stage in English Comedy. But Hellish Fiends, what Devil reign'd in you, To Rob and Murder him that fed you too? Could not his Money your curst spleen abate, Without he fell a victive to your hate? What Execrations shall my pen indite, Against such Rogues that Eclips'd Clun our Light? Plagues worse then Egypts be your portion here, And may you never mount Heavens Hyemspear: Could I say more, or wish you worse I would, Therefore ile hold, for fear I wish you good. But Oh, black death, something Ile say of thee, For thou didst act among this treachery, And thy hand did seal our poor Clus death, Who oft us pleas'd with (that you took) his breath: O thou unkind and mortal foe to man, Who still art blind, yet checks all thou can. The Humo- rous Lieu- tenant. More of Venice.
London, printed by Edward Crowch dwelling on Snow-hill.