How Mr. Whittington, being genteely dress'd, became, to all appearance, a very comely, proper person; how Mrs. Alice, his master's daughter, fell in love with him, and, by her father's consent, married him; and also how he was chosen sheriff of London. CHAP. VII. How he was thrice elected Lord Mayor of London; how he entertain'd King Henry V. in 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."