Transcribed from the nineteenth century J. and C. Evans edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org [Picture: Public domain cover] THE _LIFE AND DEATH_ OF TOM CARELESS: TO WHICH IS ADDED, _The History of Will Worthy & Nancy Wilmot_; GIVING An Account of the sudden Death of Nancy Wilmot, as she was dancing with Will Worthy on the Green, on the evening of the day they were Married; the serious reflections made by Will on that awful event, and the happy consequences that followed. [Picture: Graphic of a young boy running after an older boy with a basket on his head] LONDON: Printed and sold by J. and C. Evans Long lane. PRICE ONE PENNY. TOM CARELESS, GOOD people all I pray give ear Unto the tale I tell; ’Tis form’d to gratify your mind, And to instruct you well. To caution men of riper years, And to admonish youth; Fiction may fill th’ improving page, And use the voice of truth. Tom Careless was a merry lad; (And who will mirth despise?) But he like many other wits, More merry was than wise. Tom was a working carpenter, Yet while he plied his trade, His tongue mov’d faster than his hands, And less was done than said. He told his tale, he crack’d his joke, He was a perfect droll; And of each jovial drinking set, Was both the life and soul. On such a character as this, Some did with envy gaze; While others wiser, saw much more To pity than to praise. For Tom with all his merriment, That made such mighty rout, Had taken vice and folly in, And quite shut wisdom out. He neither look’d, nor car’d, beyond The present passing hour! Alas! now see his sky o’ercast, And storms begin to lour. A burning fever seiz’d his frame! Look how he pants for breath; And in his vitals feels transfixt Th’ envenomed dart of death. He feels and shudders at the stroke, He turns but keeps his pain; He looks with eager eyes for help, But human help is vain. Now conscience from her slumber wakes, And with a dismal cry, Proclaims the vices of his life, And summons him to die. To die! to leave the present world, To yield his vital breath! To close his eyes on life, and tread The dark, dark vale of death! To see th’ uplifted stroke that must His soul and body sever! And then to lose the light of life For ever and for ever! ’Twas more than human strength could bear The agonizing strife, Sunk his distracted spirits down Close to the verge of life.