Tudor Books, A Warning to the Wise by Churchyard

To the Right worshipfull his verie good friend, M. Alex ander Nowel, Deane of Paules.

Let London weep, whose wals of late

did shake with trembling feare,

Put sackcloth on, & waile your sins,

with many abytter teare:

For in your pompe, and chiefest pryde,

when Plagues began to seace,

And peoples hardned stubborne heartes,

forgot the God of peace:

An Earthquake came, with whirling noise

as House and Towre should fall:

A louing rodde of threatning wrath,

sent sure to warne vs all.

For such a terror did it bring.

to euery honest minde,

As day of Iudgement had bene come,

with storme and whirling winde.

The streets did shake, the Churches reelde,

the ground it quiuered sore,

Men stoode amazde, and women shreekt,

the babes did crie and rore:

The Steeples tottred too and fro,

and locks of doores did clinke:

The tiles from house came tūbling downe,

and ground began to shrinke.

The Bels did sounde without mans helpe,

the water wawmde and boylde.

The trees and floures did quake for feare,

as fruite should cleane be spoylde.

The Theatre, for (some great regarde)

that open world shoulde note,

Was shakte so sore, that sundrye there,

a feareful frighting goett.

Yea some were slaine, & crusht with stones

from Christs Church roofe that fel:

And earth was brought, in such a state,

as world shoulde sinke to Hel.

The wondring sort (of wicked mindes)

that carelesse steppes do treade,

Will smile to see the workes of God,

as wanton liues they leade.

But those that grace hath toucht within,

by outward signes will show,

That hart forethinks foule former faults,

for feare of greater blowe,

Than now they feele through Earthquake strange,

wherin Gods might is knowne,

And London (if Gods loue had lackt)

had surely bin orethrowne.

Loke in your hartes what cankers growe,

where rust hath gotten roote,

And search your ioynts (you sick in spreet)

from heade to sole of foote.

Talke not of God, and follow world,

you know his name is great,

So is his wrath, when that his hate,

consumes you in his heate.

You fine dissemblers, shroude yourselues

within his mercie seate,

And you that for this worldly mucke,

your busie braynes do beate,

Amende and [illeg.] to better life:

But you that wantons are,

Repent, or Gods right hande wil marre

the sale of all your ware.

You greedie gracelesse Fulkers lewd,

that lets out gold for gaine,

Take heede, lest from the heauens hie,

hot fire and Brimstone rayne

Upon your heades, for shameful shifts:

and you that palter still,

With poore mēs wiues, come fear ye Lord,

for punishe sure he will.

You mightie men and wealthy Chubbes,

that hurde vp chinkes in Chestes,

Proclayme a fast, and hold vp hands,

and leaue your Bacchus feastes.

You wicked folke that vse deceyte,

in selling needeful things,

Tell trueth, and leaue that lying trade,

that Gods displeasure brings:

You Lordly maisteis, looke on God,

and gouerne wel your charge,

And holde in youth, that reuell makes,

and riot ronnes at large.

You gamesome seruaunts, that doe playe

your thrifte away at Dice,

Fling downe the bones, forsake the fleshe,

in time reforme your vice.

You Pastors looke, your Lamps be light.

least you in darknesse fall,

Fleece not the flocke yee ought to feede,

for God beholdeth all.

You Courtiers liue, as you are taught,

bid finenesse now adew,

Let Mammon go, runne after God,

who shapeth men a newe.

You Lawiers cut, off long delayes,

knitte sutes vp soone and short,

Helpe poore mens sutes, that people plaine,

may giue you good reporte.

And all that in the Citie dwell,

and euery other where,

Thinke on the Earthquake, that you sawe,

Whilst [illeg.]te and breath you beare.

For this was sent from fathers hand,

to make the childe to knowe,

The whisking rodde is neare their backes,

that out of order goe.

As yet he shewes a louing signe,

but when he lysts to lowre,

The retchlesse laddes, and froward sonnes,

shall feele their fathers powre.

This Earthquake is but half a checke,

to those that warning takes:

But when in furie Plagues do chaunce,

when earth and heauen shakes,

Downe commes the pryde of Babylon,

and all full flatte on floore:

As dust that nowe is vnderfoote,

shal lye both rich and poore.

Looke for your fall, that long haue stode,

in pompe and glorie great,

The seconde Earthquake when it commes,

will stryke, before it threat.

This came to trie, how you can take

a threatening at his hande,

That rydes vpon the Starrie cloudes,

and hath a whysking wande,

Will make the worlde to yarke and fling,

when he sees tyme therfore.

Well, for this season (gentle friends)

dare now speake no more.

The Iudgements of the Lord are great,

God graunt, that well in gree,

From him you do good warning take,

and weigh these wordes of mee.

quoth Churchyarde.