Groanes from Newgate, or, An elegy upon Edvvard Dun, Esq. the cities common hangman, who dyed naturally in his bed the 11th of September, 1663 / written by a person of quality. Person of quality. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A42180 of text R5890 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing G2055). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 3 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A42180 Wing G2055 ESTC R5890 12271086 ocm 12271086 58245 2240974619

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A42180) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 58245) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 186:11) Groanes from Newgate, or, An elegy upon Edvvard Dun, Esq. the cities common hangman, who dyed naturally in his bed the 11th of September, 1663 / written by a person of quality. Person of quality. 4 p. Printed by Edward Crowch ..., London : 1663. "And licenced according to order" Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. eng Dun, Edward, d. 1663. Elegiac poetry. Executions and executioners -- England -- Poetry. eebo Groanes from Newgate; or, An elegy upon Edvvard Dun, Esq: the cities common hangman, who dyed naturally in his bed, the 11th. of September, 1663ยท Writ Person of quality 1663 6 538 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2005-07 Assigned for keying and markup 2005-08 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-09 Sampled and proofread 2005-09 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-10 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

Groanes from Newgate ; OR , AN ELEGY UPON Edvvard Dun Esq: The Cities Common Hangman , who Dyed Naturally in his bed , the 11th . of September , 1663.

Inter pone tuis interdum gaudia curis .

Written by a Person of quality . And Liscenced according to Order .

Cromwell . Ireton . Bradshaw .

London , Printed by Edward Crowch , dwelling on Snowhill . 1663.

An Elegy upon Edward Dun Esquire , the Cities Common Hangman . COme New-gate Muse and let 's agree To antipothize an Elegie , And let each drop that dares to run From barren eyes fill twice three Tun , That so we may soon drown our fears , And deluge grief in her own tears : Let 's think but how he did the feat , And then conclude the loss is great . But oh ! it adds unto our dread , He di'd untimely in his bed . The valiant Souldier's loth to yeild To Death , except it be in Field ; And who is he that would not die According to his quality ? It was ( oh Death ! ) an unjust thing . Thou should'st deny him his own swing ; Sure , sure , thou hadst some great designe Or else thou'adst took him under-line ; How can our griefs be unreveal'd , When so much vertue di'd conceal'd ? Who does not hear how every stone In New-Gate cries . O hone , O hone , Whilst all the Pris'ners sadly run And cry , The Devil rides on Dun ? Nay more , each tender-hearted Louse , Belonging to that Mansion-house , Doe strive in Sable robes to crawl , Like Mourners to his Funeral . The noble Hemp its grief doth shew , And scorch'd with sorrow cannot grow ; The Ax , the Block , the Knife , in brief , Each Tool is rusty now with grief . One thing I had almost forgot , Tyburn with grief is grown a Sot ; And that which breeds her greatest harms , Is that he di'd not in her arms : He 's gone , she cries , that often stood More then knuckle deep in blood . Oh with what a dextrous art He would pull out a Traytor 's heart ! Never did Musick please him well , Except it were St. Pulchers Bell. I was his Altar and his Spouse To whom he often paid his vowes . The Altars of the Heathen Gods Were not so good as mine by ods ; Because their Priests were not so wise To offer Men for Sacrifice : But my brave Priest did plenty bring , Of such as murther'd their own King , He 'd offer them at my high Altar , And thought no incense like the Halter : But he is now quite void of breath , And had no incense at his Death .
His EPITAPH . VNderneath this place doth lie The Miracle of Crueltie ; I le tell thee now I have begun , Then know , kinde Reader , all 's but Dun :
FUNIS .