HERE down my wearyed limbs Ile lay My Pilgrims staffe; my weed of gray: My Palmers hat; my Scallops shell; My Crosse; my Cord; and all farewell. For having now my journey done, (Just at the setting of the Sun) Here I have found a Chamber fit, (God and good friends be thankt for it) Where if I can a lodger be A little while from Tramplers free; At my up-rising next, I shall, If not requite, yet thank ye all. Meanewhile, the Holy-Rood hence fright The fouler Fiend, and evill Spright, From scaring...