“Apollo and you, band of Muses,
Bacchus, god of wine and grapes,
Ceres, goddess of bread and beer,
You all must share our sorrow.
Weep all ye gods and goddesses,
Over the bier of the defunct Simon Wadloe,
He lived well under an evil sign,
If he goes to heaven, O miracle! thanks to the Devil.”
[423] Ned Ward’s “London Spy,” 1703.
[424] La Tête Noire, (the Moor’s head,) another famous tavern in that locality.
“Sacred precincts, where are delivered
The holy oracles of Themis,
Though you may boast
To see everybody kneel to you,
Were it not for the Devil and the Moor’s head
I would never come near you.”
[426] St Justin, another martyr, after his head was struck off, picked it up, and, holding in his hand, conversed with the bystanders.
[427] Cunningham’s London.
[428] Our Harry VIII. was fully as extravagant in his retinue. When he went over to meet Francis I. at the Camp du Drap d’or, he required 2400 beds, and stabling for 2000 horses.
[429] “Rutland Papers,” reprinted for Camden Society.
[430] Epistle Dedicatory to “Have at you to Saffron Walden,” 1596.