







 
   
     
       
         A poem upon the imprisonment of Mr. Calamy in Newgate. By Robert Wild, D.D. author of the late Iter Boreale.
         Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
      
       
         
           1663
        
      
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         99884929
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         182696
         
           
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             A poem upon the imprisonment of Mr. Calamy in Newgate. By Robert Wild, D.D. author of the late Iter Boreale.
             Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.).
           
             s.n.,
             [London :
             1663]
          
           
             Imprint suggested by Wing.
             Verse: "This Page I send to you Sir, your Newgate Fate ..."
             Reproduction of original in the British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Calamy, Edmund, 1600-1666 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
           Act of Uniformity (1662) -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           A
           POEM
           UPON
           THE
           Imprisonment
           of
           Mr.
           Calamy
           IN
           NEWGATE
           .
        
         
           By
           
             Robert
             Wild
          
           ,
           D.
           D.
           Author
           of
           the
           late
           
             Iter
             Boreale
          
           .
        
         
           
             THis
             Page
             I
             send
             you
             Sir
             ,
             your
             Newgate
             Fate
          
           
             Not
             to
             condole
             ,
             but
             to
             congratulate
             .
          
           
             I
             envy
             not
             our
             Mitred
             men
             their
             Places
             ,
          
           
             Their
             rich
             Preserments
             ,
             nor
             their
             richer
             Faces
             :
          
           
             To
             see
             them
             Steeple
             upon
             Steeple
             set
             ,
          
           
             As
             if
             they
             meant
             that
             way
             to
             Heaven
             get
             .
          
           
             I
             can
             behold
             them
             take
             into
             their
             Gills
          
           
             A
             dose
             of
             Churches
             ,
             as
             men
             swallow
             Pills
             ,
          
           
             And
             never
             grieve
             at
             it
             :
             Let
             them
             swim
             in
             Wine
          
           
             While
             others
             drown
             in
             tears
             ,
             I
             'le
             not
             repine
             ;
          
           
             But
             my
             heart
             truly
             grudges
             (
             I
             confess
             )
          
           
             That
             you
             thus
             loaded
             are
             with
             happiness
             ;
          
           
             For
             so
             it
             is
             :
             And
             you
             more
             blessed
             are
          
           
             In
             Peters
             Chain
             ,
             than
             if
             you
             fate
             in
             's
             Chair
             .
          
           
             One
             Sermon
             hath
             preferr'd
             you
             to
             such
             Honour
             ,
          
           
             A
             man
             could
             scarce
             have
             had
             from
             Bishop
             Banner
             ;
          
           
             Whilst
             we
             (
             your
             Brethren
             )
             poor
             Erraticks
             be
             ,
          
           
             You
             are
             a
             glorious
             fixed
             Star
             we
             see
             .
          
           
             Hundreds
             of
             us
             turn
             out
             of
             House
             and
             Home
             ,
          
           
             To
             a
             safe
             Habitation
             you
             are
             come
             .
          
           
             What
             though
             it
             be
             a
             Goal
             ?
             Shame
             and
             Disgrace
          
           
             Rise
             only
             from
             the
             Crime
             ,
             not
             from
             the
             Place
             .
          
           
             Who
             thinks
             reproach
             or
             injurie
             is
             done
             .
          
           
             By
             an
             Eclipse
             to
             the
             unspotted
             Sun
             ?
          
           
             He
             only
             by
             that
             black
             upon
             his
             brow
          
           
             Allures
             spectators
             more
             ;
             and
             so
             do
             you
             .
          
           
             Let
             me
             find
             Honey
             ,
             though
             upon
             a
             Rod
             ,
          
           
             And
             prize
             the
             Prison
             ,
             where
             the
             Keeper's
             God
             :
          
           
             Newgate
             or
             Hell
             were
             Heaven
             if
             Christ
             were
             there
             ,
          
           
             He
             made
             the
             Stable
             so
             ,
             and
             Sepulchre
             .
          
           
             Indeed
             the
             place
             did
             for
             your
             presence
             call
             ;
          
           
             Prisons
             do
             want
             persuming
             most
             of
             all
             .
          
           
             Thanks
             to
             the
             Bishop
             and
             his
             good
             Lord
             Mayor
             ,
          
           
             Who
             turn'd
             the
             Den
             ,
             of
             Thieves
             into
             a
             House
             of
             Prayer
             :
          
           
             And
             may
             some
             Thief
             by
             you
             converted
             be
             ,
          
           
             Like
             him
             who
             suffer'd
             in
             Christs
             company
             .
          
        
         
           
             Now
             would
             I
             had
             fight
             of
             your
             Mittimus
             ;
          
           
             Fain
             would
             I
             know
             why
             you
             are
             dealt
             with
             thus
             .
          
           
             Jaylor
             ,
             set
             forth
             your
             Prisoner
             at
             the
             Bar
             ,
          
           
             Sir
             ,
             you
             shall
             here
             what
             your
             offences
             are
             .
          
        
         
           
             First
             ,
             It
             is
             prov'd
             that
             you
             being
             dead
             in
             Law
          
           
             (
             As
             if
             you
             car'd
             not
             for
             that
             death
             a
             straw
             )
          
           
             Did
             walk
             and
             haunt
             your
             Church
             ,
             as
             if
             you
             'd
             scare
          
           
             Away
             the
             Reader
             and
             his
             Common-Prayer
             .
          
           
             Nay
             't
             will
             be
             prov'd
             you
             did
             not
             only
             walk
             ,
          
           
             But
             like
             a
             Puritan
             your
             Ghost
             did
             talk
             .
          
           
             Dead
             ,
             and
             yet
             Preach
             !
             these
             Presbyterian
             slaves
          
           
             Will
             not
             give
             over
             Preaching
             in
             their
             Graves
             .
          
        
         
           
             Item
             ,
             You
             playd
             the
             Thief
             ,
             and
             if
             't
             be
             so
             ,
          
           
             Good
             reason
             (
             Sir
             )
             to
             Newgate
             you
             shall
             go
             :
          
           
             And
             now
             you
             're
             there
             ,
             some
             dare
             to
             swear
             you
             are
          
           
             The
             greatest
             Pick-pocket
             that
             ere
             came
             there
             :
          
           
             Your
             Wife
             too
             ,
             little
             better
             than
             your self
             you
             make
             ,
          
           
             She
             's
             the
             Receiver
             of
             each
             Purse
             you
             take
             .
          
           
             But
             your
             great
             Theft
             ,
             you
             act
             it
             in
             your
             Church
             ,
          
           
             (
             I
             do
             not
             mean
             you
             did
             your
             Sermon
             lurch
             ,
          
           
             That
             's
             crime
             Cononical
             )
             but
             you
             did
             pray
          
           
             And
             preach
             ,
             so
             that
             you
             stole
             mens
             hearts
             away
             .
          
           
             So
             that
             good
             man
             to
             whom
             your
             place
             doth
             fall
             ,
          
           
             Will
             find
             they
             have
             no
             heart
             for
             him
             at
             all
             :
          
           
             This
             Felony
             deserv'd
             Imprisonment
             ;
          
           
             What
             can't
             you
             Nonconformists
             be
             content
          
           
             Sermons
             to
             make
             except
             you
             preach
             them
             too
             ;
          
           
             They
             that
             your
             places
             have
             ,
             this
             Work
             can't
             do
             .
          
        
         
           
             Thirdly
             ,
             't
             is
             prov'd
             ,
             when
             you
             pray
             most
             devout
          
           
             For
             all
             good
             men
             ,
             you
             leave
             the
             Bishops
             out
             :
          
           
             This
             makes
             Seer
             Sheldon
             by
             his
             powerful
             spel
          
           
             Conjure
             and
             lay
             you
             safe
             in
             
             Newgate-hell
             :
          
           
             Would
             I
             were
             there
             too
             ,
             I
             should
             like
             it
             well
             .
          
           
             I
             would
             you
             durst
             swaft
             punishment
             with
             me
             ;
          
           
             Pain
             makes
             me
             fitter
             for
             the
             company
          
           
             Of
             roaring
             Boyes
             ;
             and
             you
             may
             lie
             a
             bed
             ,
          
           
             Now
             your
             Name
             's
             up
             ;
             pray
             do
             it
             in
             my
             stead
             ,
          
           
             And
             if
             it
             be
             deny'd
             us
             to
             change
             places
             ,
          
           
             Let
             us
             for
             sympathy
             compare
             our
             cases
             ;
          
           
             For
             if
             in
             suffering
             we
             both
             agree
             .
          
           
             Sir
             ,
             I
             may
             challenge
             you
             to
             pity
             me
             ;
          
           
             I
             am
             the
             older
             Goal-bird
             ;
             my
             hard
             fate
          
           
             Hath
             kept
             me
             twenty
             years
             in
             Cripple-gate
             ;
          
           
             Old
             
               Bishop
               Gout
            
             ,
             that
             Lordly
             proud
             disease
             ,
          
           
             Took
             my
             fat
             body
             for
             his
             Diocess
             ,
          
           
             Where
             he
             keeps
             Court
             ,
             there
             visits
             every
             L
             〈…〉
          
           
             And
             makes
             them
             (
             
             Levite-like
             )
             conform
             to
             him
             ,
          
           
             Severely
             he
             doth
             Article
             each
             joint
             ,
          
           
             And
             makes
             inquiry
             into
             every
             point
             :
          
           
             A
             bitter
             enemy
             to
             preaching
             ;
             he
          
           
             Hath
             half
             a
             year
             sometimes
             suspended
             me
             :
          
           
             And
             if
             he
             find
             me
             painful
             in
             my
             station
             ,
          
           
             Down
             I
             am
             sure
             to
             go
             next
             Visitation
             :
          
           
             He
             binds
             up
             ,
             looseth
             ;
             sets
             up
             and
             pulls
             down
             ;
          
           
             Pretends
             he
             draws
             ill
             humours
             from
             the
             Crown
             :
          
           
             But
             I
             am
             sure
             he
             maketh
             such
             ado
             ,
          
           
             His
             humors
             trouble
             Head
             and
             members
             too
             :
          
           
             He
             hath
             me
             now
             in
             hand
             ,
             and
             ere
             he
             goes
             ,
          
           
             I
             fear
             for
             Hereticks
             he
             'le
             burn
             my
             toes
             .
          
           
             O!
             I
             would
             give
             all
             I
             am
             worth
             ,
             a
             fee
             ,
          
           
             That
             from
             his
             jurisdiction
             I
             were
             free
             .
          
        
         
           
             Now
             Sir
             ,
             you
             find
             our
             sufferings
             do
             agree
             ,
          
           
             One
             Bishop
             clapt
             up
             you
             ,
             another
             me
             :
          
           
             But
             oh
             !
             the
             difference
             too
             is
             very
             great
             ,
          
           
             You
             are
             allow'd
             to
             walk
             ,
             to
             drink
             and
             eat
             ,
          
           
             I
             want
             them
             all
             ,
             and
             never
             a
             penny
             get
             .
          
           
             And
             though
             you
             be
             debar'd
             your
             liberty
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             all
             your
             Visitors
             I
             hope
             are
             free
             ,
          
           
             Good
             men
             ,
             good
             women
             and
             good
             Angels
             come
          
           
             And
             make
             your
             Prison
             better
             than
             your
             home
             .
          
           
             Now
             may
             it
             be
             so
             till
             your
             foes
             repent
          
           
             They
             gave
             you
             such
             a
             rich
             Imprisonment
             .
          
           
             May
             for
             the
             greater
             comfort
             of
             your
             lives
             ,
          
           
             Your
             lying
             in
             be
             better
             than
             your
             Wives
             .
          
           
             May
             you
             a
             thousand
             friendly
             papers
             see
             ,
          
           
             And
             none
             prove
             emptie
             ,
             except
             this
             from
             me
             .
          
           
             And
             if
             you
             stay
             ,
             may
             I
             come
             keep
             your
             door
             ,
          
           
             Then
             farewel
             Parsonage
             ,
             I
             shall
             ne're
             be
             poor
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
      
    
     
  

