%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> [?]e pitty, to all people that shall heare of it in / [?]ull fire that hapned on London-Bridge, the 11. / [?] University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1633-1633 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 10/18/2018 36041

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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

S124245 2 Aime not too high Fortune my Foe Aim Not Too High To the same tune Fortune my Foe To the Same Tune IT grieues my heart to write such heauy newes, / As in my story afterward ensues; AS I haue read the Chronicle of Stowe, / One thousand one hundred thirty sixe yeeres agoe Manchester Central Library Blackletter Ballads Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 50 [?]e pitty, to all people that shall heare of it in / [?]ull fire that hapned on London-Bridge, the 11. / [?] [?]e pity, to all people that shall hear of it in [?]ull fire that happened on London-Bridge, the 11. [?] 1633-1633

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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 10/18/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 10/18/2018 11:07:32 AM XBallad Ward, Jayne Created XML Version of Ballad 10/18/2018 11:07:32 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/18/2018 11:07:32 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Adkison, Katie Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/18/2018 11:07:32 AM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/18/2018 11:07:32 AM Transcriptionist One Serrano, Douglas Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/17/2016 Bibliographer Rachel LevinsonEmley Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">[?]e pitty, to all people that shall heare of it in</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">[?]ull fire that hapned on London-Bridge, the 11.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the tune of, Aime not too high.</hi></seg>
IT grieves my heart to write such heavy newes, As in my story afterward ensues; I would to God it never had beene so, But 'tis too true, the Lord above doth know. O, here begins my heavy tale of woe, The which will force salt teares from eyes to flow, I thinke there cannot be a heart so hard, But to my subject will have some regard. O, [l]onely London, thou that art the flower, On which the Lord his blessing still doth shower; Alas I doe lament the heavy losse, The which many a thousand pound hath cost. O London-bridge, that place of beauty faire, The world againe the like cannot compare: What heavy fortune now there is befell, Alacke, alas, it grieves me for to tell. How shall I write to give you all content? Nay, I must write that which will cause lament, Unto a heart that is as hard as steele, Yet sure he needes must come compassion feele. On Munday night, the eleventh of February, A fire hapned, of which none was wary; Hapned, said I? alas, it is too true, As it is knowne, howsoever first it grew. Some say, 'twas through a Maidens negligence, But that Ile leave for other to dispence, I would not speake more than what I doe know, For feare that some offence there [?]ow[?]
But certaine 'tis, there's many houses burned, The fire could not stented be, nor turned, Untill it had consum'd them every one, Third part the bridge from that place where't begun Hard by Saint Magnus, first it did begin, Whenas good folkes their beds were sleeping in, Then some arising starting all with feare, Whenas they saw they were beset with fire. Some cryed ou[t f]ire, fire, being afraid, Yet very few could doe them any aide, They could not come to doe them any good, Because the houses over water stood. Indeed the cryes were grievous to be heard, The women were so wonderfully skar'd, The children shaking, to their friends did say, Good Father and Mother, pray let's goe away. Alas, poore soules, they well might be afraid, Being likely to be burn'd if they had staid, The fire it did still encrease so fast, That they much goods into the Thames did cast. It flamed aloft and fire did still encrease, Use all the meanes they could, it would not cease, Untill it had consumde both sides oth'way, Neere forty dwelling houses, as some say. You may imagine of the wondrous losse. Besides the money that the buildings cost, For surely those that on the bridge doe dwell, Were men which did in riches much excell.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part. To the same tune.</hi></seg>
AS I have read the Chronicle of Stowe, One thousand one hundred thirty sixe yeeres agoe The Bridge then being builded all of wood, Was burned every sticke and stake as't stood. And many people then was burned too, Because out of the fire they could not goe, O Lord I wish the like may nere be knowne, As this prospect, for which all sigh and groane, At that same time was burnd aboundance more, The fire then the City ran halfe ore, From London-stone to Aldgate, and to Pauls, It did consume goods, timber, worke, and walls. Let me intreat both old and young to pray, For to defend's from such sudden decay, I thinke the veriest tyrannizing heart, This same t'have seen, wold make him feel some smart. Alas, my masters, say twere your owne case, Or thinke yourselves had been in that same place, It would have put you in a dangerous feare, Besides still after, sorrow, griefe and care. O Lord, methinkes, I heare the cryes and groanes, That many of them made with heavy moanes, O helpe, O helpe, they all aloud did cry, Whilst fire burned and flames aloft did flye. The Husband bade the Wife she should not feare, Although his eyes did shead full many a teare, Yet would he give her comfort in her woe, But how to helpe themselves they did not know.
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