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He burnt the bonds all in jeast, And would no money take.
Ten thousand pound he gave 105 "
To his prince willingly, And would not one penny have; ' This in kind curtesie. God did thus make him great,
So would he daily see ' 110
Poor people fed with meat,
To shew his charity.
Prisoners poore cherish'd were,
Widdowes sweet comfort found; Good deeds, both far and neere, iw
Of him do still resound. Whittington Colledge is
One of his charities ; Records reporteth this
To lasting memories. 120
Newgate he builded faire,
For prisoners to live in ; Christs-Church he did repaire,
Christian love for to win. Many more such like deedes 125
Were done by Whittington; Which joy and comfort breedes,
To such as looke thereon.
Lancashire, thou hast bred This flower of charity : 110