flesh and blood and then The Sonnes of men To such familiar mercy call Their spleene and gall To properate his hast to heaven agen 4. My God comes daily downe in bread and wine A feast divine But grounds and oxen hinder some They cannot come Exclude them then sayes God they are not mine 5. My God comes downe in each repentant teare Which my sad feare Of his displeasure and my sinne exhales 'T is that which bales My soule for all the good shee 's in aâ—teare 6. Come to mee still my God or else let mee So thou assist my footsteps goâ— to thee I know the way for if to thee I come Thou art as well the voyage as the home If thou to mee my soule no passage feares â—y thunder whitle winde flesh or â—east or teares T.B. The Crosse 1. THere is no bud but has a good Art finds for basest-weedes an use Bodies distempered with grosse blood Find preseâ—vation from abuse For did not that inforce a breach who 'ld use incision sweate or leech 2. Did not my sinne divine my â—all And by my weakenesse show my want Security would never call To God nor for his merry paâ—â— For where there is no sence of evill The soule benumm'd admits the devilâ— 3. The heaviest Crosse had some â—enowne And sharpest thornes this balsome had That though they were my Saviours Crowne They did produce a good from bad The cause most vile th' effect most good That was my sinne but this his blood 4. Though bad my sinne it saved my â—al ' My weakenesse too my want did show These did awake me made me call And to my God for mercy goe Happy this Larum of my evill My soule awakt defie the devill 5. Then happy Crosse and healing Thorne Light burthen and balsamicke flower Eased by that by this untorne My new-erected soule hath power To blesse you both whose good effects Spur'd up my stupid siâ—â—es neglects And making gaine from such a losse Unto a Crowne transferre a Crosse T. B. The Resurrection IS no time certaine when or how yet mâ—st Some certaâ—ne time detâ—rmine I am dust Must these full bones and swelling veâ—â—es appeare â—aplesse and dry as when the â—alling yeare Exhausteâ— the humour from the â—erdant bough Whiâ—h did greene liveries to the leaves allow And must it be from my decay resolv'd That my whole fabricke once must be dissolv'd 'T is true my soule 't is so yet let no care Drive my anxious thought how thou shalt feate There is a â—â—ch preservative for thee Above all balsome call'd fidelity And when my Masse of congregated clay Shall in Earthâ— Vinevard labour out the day The penny shall be thine and he that can From Rockes and Stones â—aiâ—e seed to Abraham Shall raise thy dissipated dust and glew Thee in coherence with thy corpes anew Strange miracle yet Laâ—aâ—us can tell This Paradox in him found paralell I doe beleâ—ve it Lord Oh! let me be As happy to enjoy my faith as he T.B. Conscience SEe the blacke clouds of my aspiring sinne Whose noxious exhalations beginne To muffle up my hopes and swelling high Terminate no where till they touch the skye Shâ—ill clammaâ—ous Conscience dost thou think my God Like Baâ—ll his chinne upon his brest doth nod And wakenâ— not unlesse thy cry which is A thousand Larâ—ms added be to his Busie Recorder know'st thou not I finde Through the wholl series of a sinfull minde That 't is enough to sinne the buâ—â—hen's more When after-checks tell what I did before And gives ill rellish to my sicke condition To taste such Viands by a repetitionâ— Yet happy be my soule for stupid scence Might â—o relaxe the inâ—entive Conscience That from its prone â—ndeavour it might be No lesse then guilty by indulgency Oh! prosecute 〈◊〉 still quicke Conscience doe And may I my repentance doâ— so too That when my Judge doth find thy judgement past Appâ—as'd he say lost sheepe come home at last T. B. The Mercy Seate 1. PAssing along as I oâ—t passe that way I heard one from the Sanctuary say Ho! ho come in All you that sinne And I will take the burthen cleane away Hâ—â—ke soule said I oh harke the Number 's All The mercy and the cry both generall 2. With â—hâ— my soule and I two that had bin Long stale-companions in the sweetes of sinne Approacht that place Bright shine of grace And askâ— if such a mercy â—odg'd there in Oh yes sayes one before your Throne appeare Take in your hearâ— a sigh your eye a teare 3. Then to a spotlesse Altar I was broughâ— Where God to Man is Chaâ—â—acted in thought Upon which stood A crimson blood Whose every drop a thou and soules had bought And there I kneel'd for oh whâ—â— gesture is Or can be in this action too submisse 4. I â—ooke and â—asted from the field and vine Their two best Elements of bread and wine And my soule straight Had lost the waight Which did before disease its rest and mine I sound the cause was this that I â—ed My soule â—ooke in more God then I did bread 5. Loud voice large mercy boundlesse â—â—ood sweete vine Proclaime forgive wash cleanse this soule of mine That to thy glory I may story Both worke and subject of that mercy thine Thine thine my God â—istrue Oh! let me be As neare that attribute as that to thee T. B. The Present What shall I doe my God for thee Thee that hast done so much for me For when I opened first the wombe to live In this low soyle Of sweate and â—oyle Thou didst the meanes and guidance give My age is but a span or two A twist which death can soone undoe A white shot at by many an ayming dart A restlesse ball Banded by all Adversâ—ies that tosse a heart Then search within me and without Imploy thy not â—e round about Survey me well and finde in which part lyes A thing so fit That I may it Preferre to thee for sacrifice Though some present thee gold or some Rich Easterne smels Myrthe â—ynamum Or some proclaime thee in a dâ—eper straine Which dyes before 'T is twice read o're In its owne wombe and â—ombe their braine Let me bring thee my God a heart Entitled thâ—e in every paâ—t Next that a Verse like this on which mine Be longer set Than â—o â—orgeâ— That such a present thou shouldst fine Let others so with men their credites prove They show them wealth and wit I thee my love T. B. Ad punctum moâ—tis IF this houâ—e doe the businesse of my age For being borne I must resolve to dye With whâ—t delight can I supâ—ly the stage Mâ—â—h cannot â—uite well with a â—ragedy Leave me delight and let my sorrowes tell Heaven is my joy the joy of earth my Hell AEgypt's the way to Canaan what though heâ—e The Pharaoh's of the time did me oppose Yet thy deliverance shall protect me there The greatest discord have the sweetest close Let my assurance here my
he past along and seeing her Whom he not knew such difference time had made â—e tooke her to be Cupids messenger To teach him after war the woing trade He leanes his hand upon his pâ—mâ—ll straight And eas'd his â—â—â—â—â—er of its noble waight Faâ—er then I can spâ—â—ke thus he began Whose presence makeâ— thâ—â— place the Elisian fields Why hast thou robb'd all whitenesse from the Swan And stole that colour which the Corall yeilds Why from thy head flowes such a golden traine That thou alone are all thy Sexes staine Why 〈…〉 halls thy breasts appeare Whiter then Laeda in her Viâ—gin â—ew Why dost thou 〈…〉 spring through all the yeare And by thy 〈…〉 the earth still new Why doe those 〈◊〉 thy eyes exceed yoâ— higher And Phoeâ—us thence draw all his â—ight and fire Why art thou all so â—xquisite that art Though joyn'd with 〈…〉 height of â—kill Would draw soâ—ne 〈◊〉 form'd in every part Not worth description from the meanest quill If buâ— compar'd with that rare so me of thine For thou caâ—st be no lesse then all divine Daigne Goddesse for I know thou art no lesse T' immortelize me in thy heavenly love By thy 〈◊〉 grant thy Deity expresse So thou shalt make me happier then love Could make himselfe when in a golden shower He pierc't the rooâ—e of his lov'd Danacs Tower Thus as he spake he seiz'd her â—illy hand Which sâ—em'd within his warming 〈◊〉 to melt But with us sâ—owy touch h◠〈◊〉 stand As it had 〈◊〉 into his bosome deâ—â— Her modest face like the now droâ—ping Rose Lookt toward earth from whence is 〈◊〉 aâ—ose And have you never seene the tyâ—ed Hare Stand trembling at the Hunters hollow cry Chaâ—'t by the Dogges could no where now repaire Where it conceiv'd not certainly to dye Even so Pandora trembles while she heares His words which moved nothing but her feareâ— the feares the stâ—angers heats begot from lust And so might dare t' infâ—inge her Virgins Zone And t is no small addition to mistrust To thinke how nâ—w thâ—y onely are alone At such a time â—oule Tarquin ravishe thee Faire Lucrece backâ— by opportunitie â—hou need'st not feare fond Girle a wanton flame â—ome live in him who is indeed no other Then the joint partener that with thee came 〈◊〉 the rich wombe of thy all vertuous moâ—heâ— T is 〈◊〉 one spring should send forth various waâ—e He 's a chast son and thou as chast a daughter Thus after many a pause her panting spirit Which all this while lay secret and retir'd Gave leavâ— â—s eares should now her breath inherir Then which Cherillus nothing more desir'd Twice she began still fâ—om her purpose brake At last she op't her Corall lips and spake Sir you much injure others in the worth Which yoâ—'r misprizing judgement sets on me Since thousands more are every way set forth With richer beauties then you here can see T is lesse then just your Complement should raise Me past the Centre of a common praise If this were true Philorus had small cause To fly from what herwisheth to embrace For still his love finds some reserved clause Perhaps some straines in my lesse comely face Or else perhaps suspition may move His thoughts to run the jealous maze of love Bâ—t as it will know Sir thaâ— I have vow'd My faith shall still lay anchor in his heart Nor other love shall ever be allow'd To claime in me the meanest smallest part But onely my Philorus to whose eyes My panting heart doth offer sacrifice T' is not my aime to traine you in a hope That you may conquer what I ne're will yield My leave is free 〈…〉 your scope To win the honor of somâ— oâ—her field My fort already summon'd did accord To be the captive of another Lord Therefore if you are noble as you seeme Surrender what you kâ—epâ— so fast my hand No better then a thiefe we him esteeme Who wrongfully keeps backe anothers Land The crime 's augmented whâ—n t is clearly knowne That what he doth detaine is not his owne Looke how â— guilty pâ—isoner aâ— the bar Is startled with the sentence of his death So poore Cherillus or more fearfull far Shakes at the so and of her condemning breath Her voice astonish'â— valot deepe then Than â—ertofore an armed hoast of men Denyall from some other might admit At least the party power to reply But in this raâ—e posiâ—ion of her wit All adverse contradictions seeme to dye For if Pandora once deny thee know All negatives are bounded in her no He whose bold hand durst venter for a prize Against opposed Armies clad in steele Quakes like a coward while her conquering eyes Enforce his recreant courage backward reele Her powerfull lookes dart forth such awfull charmes As might subdue wars God though in his armes Cupid â—hy force is foiâ—â—d not all thy might Can mâ—ke thy new-made Champion on to venture O if he durst her frowne in thy despight Would kill me youngster ere he once could enter There'â— not an arrow from thy bow doth flie Can pierce if 〈◊〉 not poynted with her eye Leave off thy dolorous way of pricking hearts Why dost thou put poore love â—s to such paine Why dâ—st thou spend thy stocke to purchase darâ—s Hadst thou thy sight thou 'st nere doe so againe Were there a world of Cupids by her eyes Shee 'd bring to every one a severall prize Cherillus thus by chast Pandora taught Nobly desists from what he durst not claime Nor did he now so much as owne a thought Of what before he mâ—de his greatest 〈◊〉 Onely in paâ—ting 't was his chiefest blisse When words were uselesse to obtaine a kisse Which modestly was granted for the name Of 〈…〉 infring'd had the deny'd Hap'esâ— I hâ—to us in the instant came VVâ—o sweâ—'d 〈◊〉 another man divide Hâ— joyes in hâ—â— who having this obtain'd His thoughts possesse him he might more have gain'd VVherefore the other being gon he said Dâ—luding Syren Angell but 〈◊〉 shew Thou hast in this thy flaming lust betâ— aâ—'d 〈◊〉 in a hope that I should never know Yet frehe Goâ—s hâ—ve â—ustly sixâ— the time That thy false lipâ— gave seale unto my crime As if thy leave were liâ—â—nst to abuseâ— Thy friend so he might satisfie by lust Oh tell me what delasions didst thou use To worke him to the mischieâ—e son he durst Naked as well have hugd a Scorpion As thee hadst thou not train'd the trayâ—or on Oh! who durst sacrile giously steale Ought from that heavenly temple of thy face Wert thou not privy didst â—hou not reveale How he might doe to rob thee of thy grace And yet me thinkes that face keepes still in store Sufficient graces for a thousand more But oh it is too manifest my eyes Are able witnesses of the deceit And this yet more suspiâ—ion satisfies How at my onset he made his retreat And t is the act of guilt to take its flight When once it is
else but what is thine inherit If e're which heaven desend and still uphold Our league should breake Oh! horror to be told And that the knot of our strong amity Should be dissolv'd by any crime in mee Then count mee lighter than my fleeting breath Show by this paper and I 'le blush to death But I feare no such mischiefe since ouâ— love So aptly in each others soules doth move No Rhetoricke can my zeale to thee impart So well I love thee that thou hast my heart And that my action may concord with time Be this thy New-yeares guift and call mee thine Ever till death T. B. The Corner stone 'T Was a faire stone though it was abus'd And by the senselesse builder was refus'd Alas their sinne blind soules and blinder eyes Sought by the pride of all their industries To polish maâ—tle porphery or that On which proud folly set so high a * rare And with such earth-bred trifles to refine Materiall Temples to the powre divine Whilst that bright stone from th' heavenly square taken Lies on the mountaine by these fooles forshaken Ah! had they knowne the value of this Jem It had not beene so under priz'd by them Oh! when that Babell building of their sinne Shall ruin'd dash upon themselves agin And wanting props to under-set it shall Uppon the builders head with teâ—â—our fall How will they wish this abject stone had beene By faith well laid them and their sinnes betweene Then had it like a storme-contemning rocke Secur'd their Mansions from their heavy shocke Of wrath and judgement both the which unjust Shall make them roare with woe Oh! had I wist Lord be the Basts of my hopes high Throne And then I 'le build on that strong Corner-stone The Royall Navy WHat 's breath a vapor glory a vaine chat What 's man a span what 's life shorter than that What 's death a key for what to ope heavens dore Who keepes it time for whom both rich and poore What 's heaven a haven what 's ships anchor there Hope faith and love with one small pinnace feare What are those men of warre how fraught with armes What burthen weighty suiting their alarum Whose ships the Kings what colours the red crosse What ensignes bloody from their Princes losse And whither bound to earth Oh! what 's their strife To conquer breath and glory man and life Oh! I foresee the storme Lord I confesse Then vapour or vaine chat or span I 'm lesse Save a relenting â—oe thy glories are More excellent in peace than death and warre For to that time that time his key shall lend And to thy tent my yeelding spirit send I will strike saile to these and strive to prove Thy Captive in my hope faith feaâ—e and love EPIGRAMS Epigram 1. To my deare friend William Harrington T Is true my Will and I confesse I owe Thy friendship more than this yet to beâ—â—ow A 〈◊〉 upon a â—rend hath sometimes bin A 〈◊〉 worth th' acceptance of a â—ing Though my pen-seathâ—r'd Muse yet cannot teach My feeble quill to that â—ap't height to reach 'T will be no lesse content to mee if shee Be but well entertain'd deare friend of thee Thou art a King in friendship and I may Then thus to my no little comfort say That too good Wills my worthlesse Muse hath won My Scot and my no lesse-lov'd Harrington Thy friend Th. Beed Epigram 2. Of one Mary Fraile who lay with Mr Reason MAry was long desirous for to marry And vow'd that past fifteene she would not tarry I am suâ—e this vow of modesty did faile Alas yet pardon her for flesh is Fraile No suitors came nor could her longing eyes Meeâ—e any that might seaze her as his prize But making conscience not to breake her vow Shee is as then the promist no maid now Though thou know'st not why she so young did sport I 'de have thee thinke Fraile had some Reason â—or't Epigram 3. On the same Mary a great lover of Mary-bones WHy she doth Mary-â—ones afâ—ect would'st know I thinke the reason is not hard to show The bone she cannot eaâ—e that 's hard as flinâ— Oh then I guesse the cause there 's something in'tâ— Well what 's that something Oh my Muse there sticke She that loves marrow likely loves a Epigram 4. To the excellent Poets Mr George Withersâ— I Never saw thee but should grossely lie To say I know thee not for â—illy I Or one that is more stupid well may guesse At what thou art by what thoâ— dost expresse Oh that blest day when first my willing hand Opt the remembrance of this Sinsicke land Trust mee I griev'd to thinke that now my age Had sixteene summers acted on this stage Yet was a stranger to so raâ—e a soule As thine whose heaven-bred boldnesse durst controle Without respect of persons every sinne That to thy knowledge had committed bin Then next thy Satyres and thy Motto I Made hast to purchase where I might espio How some too base for earth not worth a name Sought by their mire and dirt to clâ—y thy same And credit mee I hardly could forbeare Upon these pittied lines to drop a teare But that I know vertue oppos'd by fate Lookes greatest like the Sunne in lowest stare When other wits who have in some base time Imploy'd of â—ate that they might conquer time Shall like those paper toyes in which they trust Be eate by wormes or molded into dust And want a name thou by thy vertues grac't Shall live till earth by fire be imbâ—ac't Thy unknown well-wisher Th. Beed Epigram 5. By way of consolation to his deare friend William Scot on the death of his brother Gilman Scot SUffer mee dearest friend to bring a verse Though uninvited to attend the hearse Of him whose memory death cannot bloâ— Since hee yet lives in thee my friendly Scot I know the â—ertile soyle of his pure heart Gave warmth to every vertuous roote of Art And had the August of his age bin come Y' had seene him crown'd with a rich harvest home But now he 's clouded from your eyes to show That none but angels worthy are to know What hee shall aged be Oh! 't is a fate Worth your best thankes that day deserves its date Be registred to glory when heaven pleas'd Him of his earthly flesh-encumbrance eas'd Yet daâ—e you lose a teare unlesse for joy That heaven in mercy gave him for the toy Which wee call breath a life that shall outlive What e're dull earth or all your love could give I know the fates have lop't off from your tree Many faiâ—e branches which I doubt not bee Againe sarre fairer than his muddy â—oyle Could suffer them to grow too for the â—oyle Of living was their trouble but that care They wisely did contemne and so repaire To that blest pallace which for pious men The maker fram'd and now is opt agen For this new entrance do not then once more Spend any uselesse teare behold