%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Londini Lachrymae; / OR, / LONDON'S / COMPLAINT / AGAINST HER / FUGITIVES. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1665-1665 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 10/26/2018 36350

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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

R226493 WHither away? Why do ye fly so fast? / Cannot Gods Omnipresence check your hast? Society of Antiquaries of London - Broadsides Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 6: 564 Londini Lachrymae; / OR, / LONDON'S / COMPLAINT / AGAINST HER / FUGITIVES. Londini Lachrymae; OR, LONDON'S COMPLAINT AGAINST HER FUGITIVES. Printer R.D. 1665-1665

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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 10/26/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America crime London punishment Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 10/26/2018 3:52:39 PM XBallad Lew, Lilly Created XML Version of Ballad 10/26/2018 3:52:39 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/26/2018 3:52:39 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/26/2018 3:52:39 PM Transcriptionist Two Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/26/2018 3:52:39 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/7/2017 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 8/27/2018 Checker Minh Hua Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/13/2017 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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WHither away? Why do ye fly so fast? Cannot Gods Omnipresence check your hast? What phrensie has possest Your roving Pates, What! is the City run out of the Gates? Ye fly like Eagles on the Wings of Wealth, To overtake Your Prey afar off, Health: As if whoever could but get away, Had his Life given to Him for a Prey. Go, leave the City; do, and Post ye hence, From the sad Centre to th' Circumference. The Rocks, and Mountains, and the Paths untrod Cannot conceal ye from the Eyes of God. Why fly ye then? Is not the Lord, think you, God of the Hills, and of the Valleys too? Durst ye not trust the Lord in Your behalves, That You are gone unto Your Country Calves? Is it for this, You to the Hills repair, To sacrifice unto the Prince of th' Air, Gaping for Air as every One were gone, To Board himself with a Camelion? like too many did their Trades adjourn, As those to Tyburn, never to return: And, though his Hand th'avenging Angel stop, Are still afraid to come to the Old Shop. These Men are sentenc'd to a double doom, Come Health, or Sicknesse, still the Plague's at Home; For they can Whet their Knives at better rate On a Cartwheel, than at the Compter-Gate. To such I must confesse a Plague will be, Not a Disease, but a Recovery: They must have needs shut up and hid the Head, Though not with Plague, they had been Visited: For Death and Debt they fear on equal score; But they are gone, and shall be seen no more. The Doctors think too, (whom I therefore mention) A Journey now, good Physick for prevention. Who, when they see Contagion in such force, Prescribe themselves, for Fear, Bills of Divorce. Whose Excellencies from the foot-cloth-rank. Into the Country sneak to Mount-a-bank. Pure Visitants they are, to shun Heav'ns Rod, Leave their Poor Patients Visited of God:
To whom they rid (as now too plain 'tis shown) Not to Cure their Diseases, but their own: The Fee they like well, that, alass, is sweet, But the Destroying Angel fear to meet. But here's enough to speak of them, for I Count this is just Religio Medici. This yet is greater, and it makes me sad, Most of the Tribe of Levi's run to Gad. Appeased Heaven, 'tis like, this Plague might stay, Did every Phinehas but stand up and Pray; Too many now are of their Priests bereft, And but the meanest of the People left. The Parson is (I know not of whose giving) Into the Country gone, to get a Living. How can we in our Heavenly course but stray, When those should guide Us thither, run away? They bid Us kneel when Heaven afflicts; not fly, And give their Doctrine (in their Deeds) the lye. As if our Errors (like Old Eli's Vice) Could never be atton'd by Sacrifice. Once said a Zealous Priest, Now Soldiers Fight; Who dyes today, shall sup with Christ at Night: A Pistol streight to the Priests Breast was set, Who cries, Pray Sir, I am not hungry yet. Too many thus with Canaan's Language stalk For their own ends; and make Gods Word meer talk. It follows then, their flight this wrong hath done us; Gods House shut up, and Lord have Mercy upon us. If still the Livite be resolv'd to fly? Go thy way for a Church-man, then say I. Lastly, when Sion has a Cause to Mourn, God does not bid Us ramble, but return. Thus Solomon has told Us in Times past, He that does fear the Lord, does not make hast. Then let us turn, and not our sins conceal, That Hand that Wounded Us, can only heal; Nothing can Cure Us of our Maladies, But the Bethesda of our troubled Eyes. Timor addidit alas. I, fuge, sed poteris tutior esse domi.
London, Printed by R.D. 1665.