The History of Sir Richard Whittington | Page 9

his return from the conquest of France: with an account of his buildings for pious and charitable uses, great liberality to the poor, his death, burial, and epitaph.
EPITAPH.
Here lies Sir Richard Whittington, thrice mayor,?And his dear wife, a virtuous, loving pair;?Him fortune rais'd to be belov'd and great,?By the adventure only of a cat.?Let none who read of God's great love despair,?Who trusts in Him of him He will take care;?But growing rich chuse humbleness, not pride,?Let these dead persons' virtues be your guide.
The following reprint of a later version of the chap-book is almost identical with a large number of editions:
THE
ADVENTURES
OF
SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON,
WHO WAS
THREE TIMES
LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.
And the Surprising History of his
CAT,
TO WHICH IS ADDED
THE CALEDONIAN, A POEM.
_Banbury:?Printed and sold by J. Cheney, in the High Street._

THE
HISTORY
OF
WHITTINGTON.

Dick Whittington was a very little boy when his father and mother died; little indeed, that he never knew them, nor the place where he was born. He strolled about the country as ragged as a colt, till he met with a waggoner who was going to London, and who gave him leave to walk all the way by the side of his waggon without paying anything for his passage, which pleased little Whittington very much, as he wanted to see London badly, for he had heard that the streets were paved with gold, and he was willing to get a bushel of it; but how great was his disappointment, poor boy! when he saw the streets covered with dirt instead of gold, and found himself in a strange place, without a friend, without food, and without money.
Though the waggoner was so charitable as to let him walk up by the side of the waggon for nothing, he took care not to know him when he came to town, and the poor boy was, in a little time, so cold and so hungry that he wished himself in a good kitchen and by a warm fire in the country.
In this distress he asked charity of several people, and one of them bid him "Go to work for an idle rogue." "That I will," says Whittington, "with all my heart; I will work for you if you will let me."
The man, who thought this favoured of wit and impertinence (tho' the poor lad intended only to show his readiness to work), gave him a blow with a stick which broke his head so that the blood ran down. In this situation, and fainting for want of food, he laid himself down at the door of one Mr. Fitzwarren, a merchant, where the cook saw him, and, being an ill-natured hussey, ordered him to go about his business or she would scald him. At this time Mr. Fitzwarren came from the Exchange, and began also to scold at the poor boy, bidding him to go to work.
Whittington answered that he should be glad to work if any body would employ him, and that he should be able if he could get some victuals to eat, for he had had nothing for three days, and he was a poor country boy, and knew nobody, and nobody would employ him.
He then endeavoured to get up, but he was so very weak that he fell down again, which excited so much compassion in the merchant that he ordered the servants to take him in and give him some meat and drink, and let him help the cook to do any dirty work that she had to set him about. People are too apt to reproach those who beg with being idle, but give themselves no concern to put them in the way of getting business to do, or considering whether they are able to do it, which is not charity.
"Think of this ye affluent,?And when the overplus of your fortunes disturb?Your minds, think how little stops the lash of penury,?And makes the wretched happy!"
I remember a circumstance of this sort, which Sir William Thompson told my father with tears in his eyes, and it is so affecting that I shall never forget it:
STORY
OF
SIR WILLIAM THOMPSON.
"When Sir William Thompson was in the plantation abroad, one of his friends told him he had an indentured servant whom he had just bought, that was his countryman and a lusty man; 'but he is so idle,' says he, 'that I cannot get him to work.' 'Aye,' says Sir William, 'let me see him.' Accordingly they walked out together and found the man sitting on a heap of stones. Upon this Sir William, after enquiring about his country, asked why he did not go out to work. 'I am not able,' answered the man. 'Not able?' says Sir William, 'I am sure you look very well; give him a few stripes.' Upon this the planter struck him several times, but the poor