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Whereupon, back again

Whittington came with Speed, A Servant to remain,

As the Lord had decreed.

Still blessed be the Bells,

This was his daily Song; This my good Fortune tells,

Moft sweetly have they rung.

If God so favour me,

I will not prove unkind; London my Love shall see,

And my large Bounties find.

But, see his happy Chance!

This Scullion had a Cat, Which did his State advance,

And by it Wealth he gat.

His Master ventur'd forth,

To a Land far unknown, With Merchandise of Worth,

As is in Stories shown:

Whittington had no more

But this poor Cat as then, Which to the Ship he bore.

Like a brave valiant Man:

Vent’ring the same, quoth he,

I may get Store of Gold, And Mayor of London be,

As the Bells have me told.

Whittington's Merchandise,

Carried to a Land
Troubled with Rats and Mice,

As they did understand;

The King of the Country there,

As he at Dinner fat, Daily remain'd in Fear

Of many Mouse and Rat.

Meat that on Trenchèrs lay,

No way they could keep safe But by Rats bore away,

Fearing no Wand or Staff:

Whereupon, foon they brought

Whittington's nimble Cat; Which by the King was bought,

Heaps of Gold giv'n for that.

Home again came these Men,

With their Ship laden so, Whittington's Wealth began

By this Cat thus to grow;

Scullion's Life he forfook,

To be a Merchant good, And soon began to look

How well his Credit stood.

After that, he was chose

Sheriff of the City here, And then full quickly rose

Higher, as did appear :

For,

For, to the City's Praise,

Sir Richard Whittington Came to be in his Days

Thrice Mayor of London.

More his Fame to advance,

Thousands he lent the King, To maintain War in France,

Glory from thence to bring.

And after, at a Feast

Which he the King did make, He burnt the Bonds all in Jert,

And would no Money take.

Ten Thousand Pounds he gave

To his Prince willingly; And would no Penny have

For this kind Courtesy.

As God thus made him great,

So he would daily see Poor People fed with Meat,

To fhew his Charity :

Prisoners poor cherish'd were,

Widows sweet Comfort found; Good Deeds, both far and near,

Of him do still resound.

Whittington's College is

One of his Charities; Record reporteth this,

To lasting Memories.

Newgate

Newgate he builded fair,

For Prisoners to lye in; Chrif-Church he did repair,

Christian Love for to win.

Many more such like Deeds

Were done by Whittington Which Joy and Comfort breeds,

To such as look thereon.

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An Account of a King who sighted all

Women, and at length was constrain'd to marry a Beggar, who prov'd a Fair and Virtuous Queen.

To the Tune of, I often for my Jenny ftrove.

Upon the first reading of this Ballad, I took the Story for the Invention of fome Poet, who would not give himself the Trouble of turning History over, to find out a proper Subject; and I had actually laid it aside amongst the fabulous Songs: But upon á Second Review, I found my self mistaken; at least, I have good Reason to believe my self fo.

And having prince communicated my Thoughts to some good 7 udges, they asurd me I was in the right; and that the Bal

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