of wood. This cold ague of the earth must needs have warmth to help it. That warmth must come from fire, and that fire cannot be had without cost: howthen, I pray you, in this so general an affliction did poor people shift for fuel to comfort them?
The want of fire. Cit. Their care for fire was as great as for food. Nay, to want it was a worse torment than to be without meat. The belly was now pinched to have the body warmed: and had not the provident Fathers of this city [i.e. the Corporation] carefully, charitably and out of a good and godly zeal, dispersed a relief to the poor in several parts and places about the outer bounds of the City, where poverty most inhabiteth; by storing them beforehand with sea coal and other firing at a reasonable rate, I verily persuade myself that the unconscionable and unmerciful raising of the j prices of fuel by chandlers, woodmongers, &c.—who now meant to lay the poor on the rack—would have been the death of many a wretched creature through want of succour.
Coun. Not unlikely, Sir.
Dearth of victuals Cit. For neither could coal be brought up the river, neither could wood be sent down. The western barges might now wrap up their smoky sails; for albeit they had never so lofty a gale, their voyage was spoiled: the winds were with them, but the tide was clean against them. And not only hath this frost nipped awaythose comforts that should revive the outward parts of the body; but those also that should give strength and life to the inward. For you of the country being not able to travel to the City with victuals, the price of victail must of necessity be enhanced; and victail itself brought into a scarcity. And thus have I given you, according to your request, a true picture of our Thames frozen over; and withal have drawn in as lively colours as I can, to my skill, as it were in a little table [picture], all the miseries, mischiefs and inconveniences, which this hard time hath thrown upon our City.
Coun. Sir, you have satisfied me to the full; and have given unto me so good a taste of your love, that if I should live double the years that are already scored on my head, I cannot choose but die indebted to your kindness.
Cit. Not so, father, for you shall, if you please, come out of my debt presently; and your payment shall be in the selfsame coin that you received of me, that is to say words.
