







 
   
     
       
         Upon the rebuilding the city [t]he right honourable the lord mayor, and the [n]oble company of batchelors dining with him, May 5th, 1669.
         Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
      
       
         
           1670
        
      
       Approx. 11 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images.
       
         Text Creation Partnership,
         Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :
         2004-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).
         A66016
         Wing W2154
         ESTC R38614
         17807458
         ocm 17807458
         106650
         
           
            This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of
             Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal
            . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
          
        
      
       
         Early English books online.
      
       
         (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A66016)
         Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 106650)
         Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1109:22)
      
       
         
           
             Upon the rebuilding the city [t]he right honourable the lord mayor, and the [n]oble company of batchelors dining with him, May 5th, 1669.
             Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
          
           [8] p.
           
             [s.n.],
             [London] printed :
             1670.
          
           
             In verse.
             Bracketed letters in title taken from NUC pre-1956 imprints.
             Attributed to Wild by Wing and NUC pre-1956 imprints.
             Reproduction of original in the Huntington Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
         Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.
         Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors.
      
       
         EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.
         EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).
         The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.
         Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.
         Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.
         Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.
         The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.
         Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).
         
          Keying and markup guidelines are available at the
           Text Creation Partnership web site
          .
        
      
       
         
         
      
    
     
       
         eng
      
    
     
        2003-08 TCP
        Assigned for keying and markup
      
        2003-09 Apex CoVantage
        Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images
      
        2003-12 Daniel Haig
        Sampled and proofread
      
        2003-12 Daniel Haig
        Text and markup reviewed and edited
      
        2004-02 pfs
        Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
      
    
  
   
     
       
         
         
           UPON
           THE
           REBUILDING
           THE
           CITY
           ,
           ●he
           Right
           Honourable
           the
           Lord
           Mayor
           ,
           AND
           THE
           ●oble
           Company
           of
           Batchelors
           Dining
           with
           Him
           ,
           May
           5
           th
           .
           1669.
           
        
         
           Printed
           in
           the
           Year
           ,
           1670.
           
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
         
           
             NOr
             could
             Prometheus
             ,
             when
             he
             would
             have
             stole
          
           
             From
             jealous
             Iupiter
             a
             living
             cole
          
           
             To
             animate
             his
             well
             dissembled
             clay
             ,
          
           
             Either
             prevail
             ,
             or
             go
             unplagu'd
             away
             .
          
        
         
           
             Nor
             when
             proud
             Nature
             to
             recruit
             the
             earth
          
           
             And
             brave
             Heaven
             ,
             brought
             forth
             Giants
             at
             each
             birth
             ,
          
           
             (
             Those
             stalking
             Mountains
             ,
             sons
             of
             slime
             and
             mud
          
           
             The
             Reliques
             of
             the
             universal
             Floud
             )
          
           
             Setting
             them
             all
             to
             work
             ,
             as
             soon
             as
             born
          
           
             Then
             when
             their
             Highnesses
             ,
             did
             not
             think
             scorn
          
           
             To
             tread
             the
             Mortar
             ,
             and
             were
             Masons
             made
          
           
             And
             
               Brick
               layers
            
             —
             the
             only
             thriving
             Trade
             ,
          
           
             Though
             they
             design'd
             ,
             with
             high
             &
             pointed
             Towers
          
           
             To
             pierce
             &
             stab
             those
             clouds
             ,
             whose
             mighty
             showers
          
           
             Had
             drown'd
             their
             Fathers
             ,
             and
             to
             climb
             so
             high
             ,
          
           
             Till
             they
             pickt
             Stars
             (
             like
             Cowslips
             )
             from
             the
             sky
             ,
          
           
             Could
             they
             prevent
             their
             foolish
             Babels
             fall
             ,
          
           
             But
             were
             turn'd
             
               canting
               ,
               wandring
               Gypsies
            
             all
             .
          
        
         
           
             Nor
             shalt
             thou
             better
             speed
             (
             proud
             Rome
             )
             not
             thou
             ,
          
           
             Though
             thou
             hast
             carried
             Empire
             on
             thy
             brow
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             thy
             Cannons
             made
             all
             Monarchs
             quake
          
           
             As
             thunder
             doth
             the
             trembling
             Mountains
             shake
             :
          
           
             No
             ,
             though
             thy
             head
             ,
             thy
             lofty
             head
             thou
             raise
          
           
             To
             try
             thy
             horned
             strength
             with
             Cynthia's
             .
          
           
             No
             ,
             though
             thy
             Father
             be
             the
             Prince
             of
             th'
             Air
          
           
             And
             with
             thee
             doth
             his
             vast
             Dominion
             share
             ;
          
           
             No
             ,
             though
             thy
             Eagles
             wings
             thou
             stretch
             as
             wide
          
           
             As
             Sol
             his
             beams
             ,
             or
             Neptnne
             doth
             his
             Tyde
             ;
          
           
             No
             ,
             though
             thy
             greedy
             cruel
             breed
             be
             nurst
          
           
             With
             the
             same
             milk
             thy
             Founder
             suckt
             at
             first
             ;
          
           
             And
             though
             thy
             zeal
             (
             Ah
             ,
             cursed
             zeal
             !
             )
             aspire
          
           
             To
             raise
             thy
             
               Pope
               ▪
            
             great
             Pyramids
             of
             fire
             ,
          
           
           
             From
             burned
             Cities
             ;
             yet
             thy self
             (
             proud
             Dame
             )
          
           
             Who
             burnt
             with
             Sodoms
             lust
             ,
             shalt
             with
             her
             flame
             .
          
           
             Where
             are
             thy
             Fauxes
             in
             their
             dark
             disguise
             ,
          
           
             Incendiary
             Priests
             ,
             and
             subtile
             spies
             ,
          
           
             Who
             when
             our
             Londons
             fiery
             tryal
             came
             ,
          
           
             Like
             Salamanders
             feasted
             in
             the
             flame
             ,
          
           
             And
             curst
             the
             hands
             that
             first
             should
             lay
             a
             Brick
          
           
             Tow'rds
             the
             rebuilding
             that
             grand
             Heretick
             ;
          
           
             Who
             when
             great
             Greshams
             spicy
             nest
             consum'd
          
           
             (
             Though
             the
             immortal
             founder
             stood
             perfum'd
          
           
             In
             the
             rich
             Incense
             )
             hug'd
             themselves
             to
             see
          
           
             Our
             Monarchs
             martyr'd
             in
             Effigie
             .
          
           
             Now
             let
             them
             stare
             and
             startle
             at
             the
             fight
             ,
          
           
             And
             bark
             as
             Curs
             do
             at
             the
             Moons
             fair
             light
             :
          
           
             Let
             them
             not
             boast
             their
             
               Charles
               la
               grand
               ,
               la
               Boon
            
          
           
             
               Great
               Brittain
            
             can
             outshine
             them
             both
             in
             One
             ,
          
           
             A
             Prince
             of
             far
             more
             gracious
             intents
          
           
             Than
             all
             thy
             
               Urbans
               ,
               Clements
               ,
               Innocents
            
             ,
          
           
             Upon
             whose
             head
             shall
             stand
             a
             Triple
             Crown
             ,
          
           
             When
             thy
             grand
             Tyrants
             shall
             be
             tumbled
             down
             .
          
           
             Still
             on
             our
             Thames
             shall
             noble
             Barges
             ride
             ,
          
           
             When
             Tyber
             to
             a
             Ditch
             shall
             shrink
             her
             pride
             .
          
           
             Our
             Lions
             still
             are
             Rampant
             ,
             and
             our
             Rose
          
           
             Yields
             her
             friends
             sweetness
             ,
             prickles
             to
             our
             foes
             :
          
           
             Our
             Citizens
             shall
             feast
             in
             their
             Guild-hall
             ,
          
           
             And
             eat
             Geese
             —
             Patrons
             of
             thy
             Capital
             .
          
           
             Justice
             and
             Mercy
             now
             shall
             guard
             her
             store
             ,
          
           
             And
             her
             Mock-Giants
             she
             shall
             need
             no
             more
             ,
          
           
             Th'
             Exchange
             that
             Royal
             Infant
             ,
             shortly
             will
          
           
             Her
             own
             and
             forreign
             Language
             speak
             with
             skill
             ;
          
           
             And
             on
             that
             Acre
             the
             Noon
             Sun
             shall
             see
          
           
             
          
           
           
             We
             have
             our
             Newgate
             and
             old
             Tyburn
             too
             ,
          
           
             Ready
             to
             serve
             their
             Turns
             who
             turn
             to
             you
             .
          
        
         
           
             Kind
             heaven
             and
             all
             the
             Elements
             conspire
          
           
             (
             And
             such
             conspiracy's
             we
             may
             desire
             )
          
           
             To
             make
             our
             City
             fairer
             ,
             stronger
             ,
             higher
             ,
          
           
             The
             Sun
             gets
             up
             each
             morn
             at
             peep
             of
             day
          
           
             To
             oversee
             the
             Work
             ,
             and
             late
             doth
             stay
          
           
             Before
             he
             lets
             the
             Labourers
             retreat
             ,
          
           
             As
             if
             he
             undertook
             the
             work
             by
             th'
             Great
             .
          
           
             The
             earth
             gives
             clay
             ,
             the
             water
             moistens
             it
             ;
          
           
             The
             gentle
             Air
             tempers
             and
             makes
             it
             fit
             ,
          
           
             And
             then
             the
             fire
             ,
             as
             if
             it
             meant
             to
             make
          
           
             Full
             satisfaction
             ,
             and
             revenges
             take
          
           
             Upon
             it self
             ,
             (
             though
             in
             a
             smother'd
             way
          
           
             As
             modest
             Thieves
             their
             injuries
             repay
             )
          
           
             VVorks
             in
             the
             
               Brick
               kilne
            
             ,
             works
             till
             it
             grow
             sick
             ,
          
           
             And
             fainting
             dyes
             ,
             leaving
             on
             every
             Brick
          
           
             And
             every
             tyle
             a
             lasting
             blush
             —
             as
             who
          
           
             VVould
             say
             ,
             for
             former
             Mischiefs
             this
             I
             do
             .
          
        
         
           
             Nor
             doth
             the
             Sun
             alone
             the
             VVork
             o're
             see
             ,
          
           
             But
             there
             is
             One
             as
             vigilant
             as
             he
             ,
          
           
             A
             
               Pious
               ,
               Loyal
               ,
               Wise
               ,
               Iust
               M●y'r
               ,
            
             a
             Lord
          
           
             VVho
             like
             Zerubbabel
             with
             awful
             sword
          
           
             Defends
             the
             trowel
             ,
             whose
             sweet
             voice
             hath
             powers
          
           
             (
             As
             Orpheus
             had
             to
             raise
             his
             Theban
             Towers
             )
          
           
             To
             make
             the
             teeming
             bowels
             of
             the
             earth
          
           
             Shoot
             up
             new
             buildings
             by
             an
             easie
             birth
             .
          
           
             He
             guards
             the
             Sabbaths
             with
             an
             holy
             care
             ,
          
           
             And
             blesseth
             all
             the
             week
             by
             that
             days
             pray'r
          
           
             His
             Magistracy
             lies
             not
             in
             his
             Train
             ,
          
           
             His
             stately
             Steed
             ,
             his
             Scarlet
             ,
             or
             his
             Chain
             ;
          
           
             He
             and
             his
             sword
             in
             Velvet
             fast
             asleep
             ▪
          
           
           
             But
             watchful
             ,
             God's
             peace
             and
             the
             Kings
             to
             keep
             ;
          
           
             VVith
             a
             strict
             hand
             the
             Ballance
             he
             doth
             hold
             ,
          
           
             Trying
             the
             Cause
             how
             weighty
             ,
             not
             the
             Gold
             :
          
           
             As
             he
             with
             virtue
             meets
             ,
             or
             with
             offence
             ,
          
           
             So
             do
             his
             looks
             ,
             or
             smiles
             ,
             or
             frowns
             dispence
             ;
          
           
             His
             smoother
             Chin
             carrying
             as
             grave
             a
             grace
             ,
          
           
             As
             the
             Diocesans
             well
             bearded
             face
             .
          
        
         
           
             Boast
             on
             (
             
               old
               Beldame
               Rome
            
             )
             and
             brag
             —
             Thou
             hast
          
           
             Thousands
             of
             Sons
             and
             Daughters
             pure
             and
             chast
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             thou
             shalt
             find
             for
             all
             their
             single
             Lives
             ,
          
           
             But
             little
             
               Virgin
               Honey
            
             in
             their
             Hives
             :
          
           
             Those
             thievish
             Drones
             thy
             Fryars
             without
             wings
             ,
          
           
             Creep
             to
             thy
             Nuns
             ,
             and
             leave
             behind
             their
             stings
             .
          
           
             Thou
             hast
             thy
             Ioan's
             as
             well
             as
             Popes
             —
             Fame
             says
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             Innocents
             have
             their
             Olympia's
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             London
             which
             the
             Nuptial
             Band
             allows
             ,
          
           
             And
             hates
             to
             lock
             her
             Virgins
             up
             in
             Vows
             ,
          
           
             Can
             glory
             in
             her
             
               Batchelor
               Lord
               May'r
            
             ,
          
           
             Chast
             as
             the
             Dove
             ,
             though
             of
             the
             
               Ravens
               Hair
            
             :
          
           
             The
             
               Widow
               City
            
             is
             his
             Spouse
             —
             and
             He
          
           
             Cares
             for
             her
             Children
             and
             great
             Family
             ;
          
           
             Not
             doth
             he
             stand
             (
             although
             he
             lyes
             )
             alone
          
           
             (
             He
             were
             a
             Phenix
             if
             he
             were
             but
             One
             )
          
           
             But
             as
             the
             Moon
             ,
             when
             she
             her
             progress
             goes
             ,
          
           
             The
             
               Court
               of
               Stars
            
             ,
             as
             her
             Attendants
             shows
             :
          
           
             So
             when
             
               Beloved
               Turner
            
             please
             to
             call
             ,
          
           
             Great
             troops
             of
             Batchelors
             adorn
             his
             Hall
             ;
          
           
             None
             
               male
               content
            
             ,
             and
             yet
             
               male
               Virgins
            
             all
             )
          
           
             On
             May's
             fifth
             day
             (
             Oh
             ,
             't
             was
             a
             wondrous
             sight
             !
             )
          
           
             Three
             hundred
             
               Virgins
               ,
               Virgins
            
             day
             and
             night
             ;
          
           
             Virgins
             in
             
               Breeches
               ,
               Virgins
            
             all
             as
             true
             ,
          
           
           
             As
             she
             for
             whom
             
               Saint
               George
            
             the
             Dragon
             slew
             ;
          
           
             Some
             hoary
             old
             ,
             some
             young
             ,
             but
             all
             were
             chast
          
           
             Either
             above
             ,
             or
             underneath
             the
             wast
             ;
          
           
             None
             of
             them
             had
             they
             been
             in
             Scottish
             School
             ,
          
           
             Had
             grunted
             in
             the
             
               Penitential
               stool
            
             ;
          
           
             None
             ,
             had
             they
             liv'd
             in
             times
             of
             Commutation
             ,
          
           
             Had
             pay'd
             a
             stone
             to
             Pauls
             for
             Fornication
             .
          
           
             None
             from
             an
             Ordeal
             Tryal
             need
             to
             fly
          
           
             That
             
               Purgatory
               fire
            
             ,
             of
             Chastity
             ;
          
           
             None
             free
             of
             
               Creswel
               Colledge
            
             ,
             not
             a
             Man
          
           
             Need
             fear
             to
             meet
             a
             Nurse
             or
             some
             Trappan
             ;
          
           
             None
             of
             them
             all
             ,
             (
             for
             ought
             the
             Poet
             knows
             )
          
           
             Wears
             (
             though
             anothers
             Hair
             )
             anothers
             Nose
             .
          
           
             My
             Lord
             himself
             ,
             and
             all
             his
             Guests
             ,
             I
             think
          
           
             In
             the
             same
             Cup
             ,
             might
             without
             danger
             drink
             ▪
          
           
             Yet
             none
             (
             if
             called
             lawfully
             )
             but
             can
          
           
             Beget
             a
             Son
             ,
             may
             prove
             an
             Alderman
             .
          
        
         
           
             These
             Sons
             of
             Peace
             ,
             and
             Sons
             of
             Mars
             ,
             if
             Charls
          
           
             Please
             to
             take
             notice
             of
             his
             Neighbours
             snarls
          
           
             Came
             not
             to
             shew
             their
             Valour
             in
             his
             Hall
             ,
          
           
             To
             combate
             Custard
             ,
             batter
             
               Pasty
               Wall
            
             :
          
           
             To
             try
             the
             Issue
             of
             an
             equal
             Bet
             ,
          
           
             Whether
             their
             Teeth
             ,
             or
             Knives
             were
             sharper
             set
             ,
          
           
             To
             take
             the
             
               Red-coat
               Lobsters
            
             by
             the
             back
          
           
             And
             with
             bold
             hands
             ,
             their
             clattering
             Armour
             crack
          
           
             But
             their
             chief
             errand
             was
             ,
             to
             pray
             he
             would
          
           
             Command
             their
             persons
             ,
             and
             accept
             their
             Gold.
          
           
             And
             if
             their
             Votes
             and
             mine
             were
             current
             ,
             He
          
           
             Should
             their
             
               Perpetual
               Dictator
            
             be
             .
          
           
             But
             if
             the
             scarlet
             Sphere
             must
             turn
             about
          
           
           
             〈◊〉
             turning
             round
             makes
             giddy
             heads
             I
             doubt
          
           
             〈◊〉
             his
             Exemplar
             Government
             shall
             stand
             ,
          
           
             And
             teach
             Successors
             how
             they
             should
             command
             .
          
        
         
           
             A
             
               Virgin
               Queen
            
             ,
             and
             
               Batchelor
               Lord
               Mayor
            
             ,
          
           
             To
             England
             are
             as
             prosperous
             as
             rare
             ,
          
           
             She
             made
             the
             City
             love
             the
             Court
             ,
             and
             He
          
           
             The
             Court
             the
             city
             by
             his
             Loyalty
             .
          
           
             He
             a
             wise
             Imitator
             of
             his
             King
             ,
          
           
             Finds
             Moderation
             is
             a
             healing
             thing
             .
          
        
         
           
             Oh
             ,
             if
             our
             
               churches
               Overseers
            
             would
             yield
             ▪
          
           
             And
             let
             poor
             Labourers
             come
             forth
             and
             build
             ,
          
           
             Such
             as
             
               untempered
               Mortar
            
             dare
             not
             use
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             for
             Foundations
             ,
             straw
             and
             stubble
             chuse
             ;
          
           
             Though
             every
             stone
             across
             they
             do
             not
             lay
             ,
          
           
             But
             some
             work
             one
             ,
             and
             some
             another
             way
             ,
          
           
             Our
             
               New
               Ierusalem
            
             should
             soon
             behold
          
           
             Sion
             in
             glory
             ,
             though
             it
             wanted
             Gold.
          
           
             
               Hard
               upon
               Hard
            
             ,
             no
             lasting
             work
             will
             make
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             can
             one
             Flint
             another
             kindly
             break
             :
          
           
             But
             Moderation
             is
             a
             
               cement
               sure
            
             ,
          
           
             'T
             is
             that
             which
             makes
             the
             universe
             endure
          
           
             That
             makes
             our
             climate
             prove
             a
             
               temperate
               Zone
            
          
           
             Betwixt
             the
             Torrid
             ,
             and
             the
             Frigid
             One.
          
           
             If
             we
             all
             build
             up
             Pater-noster-Row
             ,
          
           
             We
             may
             let
             
               Ave
               Maria
               corner
            
             go
             ;
          
           
             Black
             and
             
               White
               Fryar
            
             did
             together
             stand
             ,
          
           
             And
             may
             again
             ,
             if
             Wisdom
             might
             command
             ,
          
           
             If
             not
             ,
             I
             'le
             say
             no
             more
             ,
             but
             this
             will
             swear
             ,
          
           
             Bedlam
             and
             Bishopsgate
             neer
             Neighbours
             are
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
      
    
     
  

