Midnights MEDITATIONS OF DEATH WITH Pious and Profitable Observations and Consolations Perused by FRANCIS QUARLES A little before his Death Published by E. B. LONDON Printed by John Macock and are to be sold at his house in White Bear Court on Adling hill 1646. Profitable and pious thoughts of Death Part 1. Of Deaths certainty IN heav'ns high Parliament an act is pass'd Subscrib'd by that eternall Three in One That each created wight must one day tast Of Deaths grim terrours They exempted none That sprang from Adam All that red-earth-strain Must to their earth again An ancient Register of burialls lies In Genesis to let us understand That whosoever is begotten dies And every sort is under Deaths command His Empire 's large Rich poore old young and all Must go when he doth call Mans life 's a book and some of them are bound Handsome and richly some but meanly clad And for their matter some of them are found Learned and pious others are too bad For vilest fires Both have their end There 's a conclusion penn'd As well as title-page that 's infancy The matter that 's the whole course of our lives One 's Satans servant walking wickedly Another 's pious and in goodnesse thrives One 's beggerly another 's rich and brave Both drop into the grave One man a book in folio lives till age Hath made him crooked and put out his eyes His beard doth penance And death in a rage Mows down another whilst the infant cries In 's midwives lap that 's an Epitome Both wear deaths liverie God made not death Whence are we mortall then Sure Sinne 's the parent of this pale-fac'd foe Nought else did hatch it and the first of men He was Deaths grandfather And all the wo That in this or the next life we are in Is caused by our sinne Meditation 1. IF I must dye I 'll catch at every thing That may but mind me of my latest breath Deaths-heads graves knells blacks tombs all these shall bring Into my soul such usefull thoughts of death That this sable King of fears Though in chiefest of my health He behind me come by stealth Shall not catch me unawares When-e're I visit any dying friend Each sigh and scrich and every death-bed-grone Shall reade me such a lecture of mine end That I 'll suppose his case will be mine own As this poore man here doth lie Rack'd all o're with deadly pain Never like to rise again Time will come when so must I. Thus ghastly shall I look thus every part Of me shall suffer thus my lips shall shrivel My teeth shall grin and thus my drooping heart Shall smoke out sighs and grones and all the evil Which I see this man lye under What sinne earns and death doth pay I shall feel another day Sinne from torment who can sunder Thus will my mournfull friends about me come My livelesse carcase shall be stretched out I must be packing to my longest home Thus will the mourners walk the streets about Thus for me the bells will toll Thus must I bid all adieu World and wife and children too Thus must I breathe out my soul At others fun'ralls when I see a grave That grave shall mind me of mortalitie I 'll think that such a lodging I must have Thus in the pit my bones must scattered lie Here one bone and there another Here my ribs and there my scull And my mouth of earth be full I must call the worms my mother When I do look abroad methinks I see A fun'rall Sermon penn'd in every thing Each creature speaks me mortall Yonder tree Which not a quarter since the glorious spring Had most proudly cloth'd in green And was tall and young and strong Now the ax hath laid along Nothing but his stump is seen And yonder fruitfull valleys yesternight Did laugh and sing they stood so thick with corn In was the sickle and 't was cut down quite And not a sheaf will stand to morrow morn Yonder beauteous imps of May Pretty eye-delighting flowers Whose face heav'n doth wash with showers To put on their best aray I saw the fair'st the Lily and Carnation And coy Adonis particoloured sonne Subject to such a sudden alteration That in a day their fading beauty 's gone This tree this corn and this flower Or what things else vainest are To my self I do compare Who may die within this houre Meditation 2. I 'LL ne'r be proud of beauty if I must Be blemish'd when I die And if the grave Will mix my beauty with the vilest dust What profits pride Reader I 'll pardon crave Here to set you down a story Of as rare and fair a She As the Sunne did ever see Whom Death robb'd of all her glory I once saw Phoebus in his mid-day shine Triumphing like the Sovereigne of the skies Untill two brighter rayes both more divine Outblazed his and they were this Nymphs eyes Forthwith Sol curtain'd his light Looking very red for shame To be vanquish'd by this Dame And did slink out of her sight I once saw silver Cynthia nights fair Queen In her full orb dimming each lesser flame Till this Nymphs beauty-vying front was seen Outshining hers then she look'd wan for shame The man in her knew he how But to quit that giddy place She had so divine a face Would have dwelt upon her brow Once was this woman pleas'd to walk the fields Then proudly fragrant with Dame Flora's store The damask rose unto her beauty yields And was contented to be fair no more Sure I cannot say how truly Yet mongst many 't was a fame That the rose did blush for shame And the violet look'd most bluly Once did this woman to the temple go Where doth fair Venus marble-statue lie Cut to the life that one can hardly know But that it lives indeed When she came nigh He who then the temple kept After would be often telling She was so super-excelling That for mad the marble wept Melodious musick 's warbled by the spheres Swans sing their Epitaphs in curious layes Once with a singing Swan a part she bears As soon 's those corall doores dismiss'd her voice The poore Swan held his peace and di'd And the spheres as men do say Dumbly move unto this day This was by a rivers side What think you now of such a glorious woman This Phoenix sure was she if any might That might be proud And yet the tongue of no man Can well expresse nor any pen can write What grim death hath done unto her Now she 's of another feature Hardly can you know the creature Stay a while and we will view her Th' almighty King that dwells above in heaven Directs to 's high Shrieve Death a certain writ Wherein a strait imperiall charge was given At 's utmost peril forthwith on sight of it To arrest that piece of beauty And to wrap her up in clay 'gainst the last great judgement-judgement-day Death address'd him to his duty And with
And if they die my grief shall be the lesse A childs death 's a precious savour In thy nostrils that was here Taught to live Lord in thy fear For he dieth in thy favour Meditation 4. IF youth it self may drop into the grave When children die methinks they should bequeath Surviving parents comforts Sure they have No cause were not affection strong to grieve Overmuch as many do For Death is impartiall By his stroke all ages fall Both the old'st and youngest too Think duly on 't Why should your eyes runne o'r For what you have no way to remedie If you should heav'n eternally implore It would not send them back But you 'll replie 'Cause there 's no way to be found That may help us to recover Them again our eyes runne over And our tears do so abound Nor ever will your highest floud of sorrow Transport them back into the world again Your selves may follow them before to morrow Those deep-fetch'd sighs are smok'd out all in vain So are all those drops you mourn Shed in vain hap'ly you may Soon go after them but they Are too happie to return Is it your love that doth produce such grones How easily alas is love mistaken Methinks you cannot love and grieve at once To love were to rejoyce that they have shaken Hands with miserie to dwell In a world of blisse above Grief at this is farre from love It seems not to wish them well Or is 't because that they are dead you weep I do not think that when they were begotten You dream'd them death-free or had hopes to keep Them here for ever that they would be rotten In their graves you could not choose But consider for a span To be quickly ended can Never go for any news Nor with good reason can you lay the blame On Death at all but on your selves that did Beget them mortall for the very same Matter wherewith they were begot and fed Fits them for an alteration By the hand of Death If you Grudge that Death hath ta'n his due You may blame their generation Or do you grieve because they di'd so soon If wayes be foul and journeys perillous Who taketh up his lodging e'r 't be noon Is best at ease 'T is like God loveth those Whom he takes betime away Sad experience lets us know That the happi'st here below Have a miserable stay Or is your onely child deceas'd that passion Doth domineer so here I could allow Methinks your tears a free immoderation But that on better ground then Jephtha's vow I remember what was done By that parent who is penn'd Down for great Jehovah's friend In case of his onely sonne Ev'n when 't was dead a miracle did fill His Sarahs womb but it was fill'd but once Isaac was all Yet Abraham must kill This all himself God did it for the nonce That he might his graces prove Yet the man made no denyall But did by so strange a triall Manifest his faith and love This case must needs strike nearer to the heart Then yours yet he doth presently submit Love I confesse is very loth to part With what it loves but grace doth put a bit Into natures mouth that she May not grumble nor repine At what 's a decree Divine But subscribe it chearfully Just like the Autumn-sap of fruitfull trees So love descends and it is ardent when Dispersed but by infinite degrees More ardent when it is contracted men That have but an onely sonne If Death take him hence their losse Is a great one but this crosse Must be born Thy will be done Is what your selves do pray for every day And when this will of God 's declared you Greatly offend if you do murmure May Not God and Sinne and Nature claim their due Very ill you do behave you If you give not heav'n leave Thankfully for to bereave You again of what it gave you Lord if thou please to stock my table round About with children yet I will be glad Nor shall my sorrow overmuch abound Though I do see them in their grave-clothes clad For the sooner are they blest And within the shortest space Whom thou help'st to winne a race They the sooner are at rest Meditation 5. VVE do not die by chance nor yet by fortune But how and when the Lord will have us die He numbers all our dayes we cannot shorten Nor lengthen them a minute Destiny Neither spinnes nor cuts the thread God a certain period sets No man shorter falls or gets Further then the bounds decreed If God vouchsafe to number out the hairs That do adorn and cloth our sinfull heads Who doubteth that his providence forbears To count our dayes If not a sparrow treads On the earth 's face thus or thus But his providence awaketh For to note it sure he taketh Greater care by farre of us If any godlesse wits so curious be To talk of Hezekiah's fifteen years His sentence God did change not his decree The answer is yet Esay 's tongue appears To speak not a jote the lesse Truth 't was with a supposition God doth threaten with condition Either tacit or expresse When Pestilence that lothsome dreadfull hag Bepatch'd with botches wanders up and down And into ev'ry houshold drops the plague Scarce any Turk in an infected town But will wife and friend afford Daily visits and imbraces They flie no contagious places Nor fear either bed or bord Their reason is Gods providence doth write Their fortunes on their foreheads neither can Their day of life be longer nor their night Of Death come sooner then God wills it Man Must yield 's ghost when God will haveit For health and life if God will Save it 't is not plague can kill If not 't is not they can save it Such block-heads have not brains enough to think That as the time so God withall decrees The means of life as physick meat and drink Clothes recreations and what else he sees Needfull They themselves destroy And are to their safety strangers That runne into mortall dangers And not shun them when they may Howe'r imploy'd Lord grant I may have leisure Religiously to meditate that thou My dayes dost number and my life dost measure And make me think Lord that this very now That this twinkling of an eye Is the period thou hast set Lord grant I may ne'r forget That this moment I may die PART III. Of Deaths suddennesse THough sometimes Death doth stay till it be late At night untill our most decrepit years And when he comes doth like a King in state Send harbingers before yet Death appears Sometimes unlook'd for early in the morning And takes us up before he gives us warning When at full tide our youthfull bloud doth flow In every vein and when our pulses dance A healthfull measure when our stomachs know No qualms at all as we would say by chance Snatch'd are our bodies to their longest homes And Death is past before a sicknesse comes How
Meditation 1. IF 'gainst Death's stroke my riches cannot arm me Nor comfort me a jote when I am dying I 'll take a care these witches do not harm me Whilst I do live I know they will be trying To do me any mischief as before And now they mischief all the whole world o're Some riches hurt with that old sinne of pride Rich men extremely swell most commonly This sinne and wealth both in one house abide Poore men are loo'kd on with a scornfull eye Strangely is his heart puft up with pride 's bellows That hath a fatter fortune then his fellows His words are big looks lofty mind is high He with his purse will needs drive all before him He ever looks for the precedency And vext he is if men do not adore him He bears the sway another man must be If not so rich not half so good as he Some men wealth doth infect with churlishnesse They answer roughly they are crabbed misers Course bread yields hardest crust This is a dresse Wherewith wealth decks our accidentall risers Since Nabals death a thousand rich men be In every point as very hogs as he Some wealth makes prodigalls there 's no excesse But they runne into Back and belly strive Which shall spend most belly with drunkennesse And gormandizing back for to contrive New stuffs and fashions This excessive crue Have wayes to spend that Dives never knew Observe these Caterpillers One man puts Into his throat a cellar full of drink Another makes a shambles of his guts The back is not behind you would not think How for themselves and for their curious dames One suit of clothes a good fat manour lames Some wealth makes idle like so many drones They suck what others sweat for and do hate All good imployments Many wealthy ones Have neither callings in the Church nor State And during life do nothing day by day But sit to eat and drink and rise to play These mischiefs are in wealth and many more It throws men into many a foolish lust But if Gods bounty multiply my store I 'll drain these vices from 't For when I must Grone on my death-bed these sinnes will displease me And fright my soul but riches cannot ease me Lord either keep me poore or make me rich In grace as well as goods my wealth undresse If I have any of those vices which Are wont to clothe it so shall I possesse Riches without those sinnes that riches bring ' That when death comes they sharpen not his sting Meditation 2. THough God doth blesse me all my time along With best of blessings make my courses thrive Fill full my garners make my oxen strong To labour and although his bountie give As much to me as to a thousand more Though I am rich and all my neighbours poore Though Fortune fanne me with a courteous wing Though gold be at my beck though I have sail'd With prosp'rous gales though not an adverse thing Did e're betide me though I never fail'd Of good successe in any undertaking Yet am I still one of the common making A piece of dust and clay and I may go Into my grave as soon 's a poorer man Our mold 's alike God at first made us so He makes the rich mans life but like a span And so the beggers is just both alike And both fall when impartiall Death doth strike When they are fallen both alike they lie Both breathlesse noisome livelesse senselesse cold Both like the grasse are withered dead and drie And both of them are ghastly to behold The ods is this The poore man mongst the croud Of buried mortalls hath the coursest shroud Why sinne the foolish sonnes of men for gain Why doth the Land-lord rack the Us'rer bite Why doth the Judge with bribes his conscience stain Why doth the bauling Lawyer take delight In spinning causes to a needlesse length Untill his clients purse hath lost its strength Why are Gods Ministers become men-pleasers And why are Patrones simoniacall Why are our Advocates such nippy teasers Of honest causes why the devil and all Do Misers scrape and why do Tradesmen rear Their price yet sell time dearer then their ware Sure these bad courses cannot choose but hurt us They make Deaths looks more ghastly and his sting More piercing but our wealth cannot support us 'gainst smallest pains and fears that Death will bring Riches do promise much but do deceive us When we have need of succour then they leave us Anoint me Lord with eye-salve to discern What poore contents the world affords at best Instruct me Lord and I shall quickly learn That without thee there 's no condition blest Bad wayes of gaining into hell will drive me But all my wealth will not from Death reprive me Meditation 3. SOme therefore sinne because they do abound In store of wealth this is the onely ground Of many sinnes Gods laws they do transgresse They wrong their equals and the poore oppresse They tread religion and civilitie Both under foot all kind of tyrannie They exercise on all within their reach Nothing can keep them in they make a breach Through all those fenses which at the beginning God set to keep rebellious man from sinning They will be revellers whoremongers swearers Drunkards oppressours liers and forbearers Of no impiety this is the reason Great men they are and rich 'T is petty treason Though in a modest way for to reprove Those sinfull courses which our betters love If we dare do it though we have a calling To do it boldly we are tax'd for bawling And saucie fellows and another day Sure we shall smart for 't Lord I 'll never say I 'll sinne because I 'm rich unlesse that I Could say I 'm rich and therefore will not die Meditation 4. IF from Deaths stroke my riches cannot shield me Nor on my death-bed any comfort give Then I will take a care that they shall yield me Some joy and comfort whilst I am alive And never shall a jote my sinnes increase Nor hinder me from going hence in peace I 'll get them well my calling shall be lawfull My brows or brains shall sweat for what I have And I will use my calling with an awfull Regard of God and conscience nor will crave What I have not a right to They do eat Scarce their own bread whose faces never sweat Unlesse they sweat with eating Nor can I Find any warrant for those wayes of gain Which many men do get their livings by To keep a needlesse Alehouse to maintein An idle familie to be a Pander A Fortune-teller or an Apes commander A purblind Crowder or a Rogue that canteth A Cuckold by consent for ready pay A sturdy Begger that not one limb wanteth Or one that borrows money on the way A Us'rer who whether 't shine or rain If the Sunne stand not still is sure of gain For these I find no warrant nor for dealing Deceitfully in selling or in buying To take more then
That I could wish What I would have him be God is Would I be compassed about With mercie find relief in miserie Would I by his Spirit be led And have all my sinnes forgiven And hereafter go to heaven All this God hath promised So free that to deserve that promis'd glory I nothing have but what his mercie gave me 'T is gratis rather then compensatorie Whatever God doth to convert or save me And if any good I do 'T is done by supplies Divine So Gods work and none of mine Grace begins and ends it too What if by nature I was made a sheep And by corruption I am gone astray Whether I think or speak or do or sleep Or wake do ever wander from the way I was set in and am toss'd So by lust that my soul wanders Into many by-meanders Like a sillie sheep that 's lost Yet God 's my shepherd When his mercy spi'd me Wandring it brought me home and ever since It doth watch over feed defend and guide me And ever will do so till I go hence And hereafter in the even When my latest sand is runne And my pasture here is done It will fold my soul in heaven The Sonne doth comfort 'T was his errand down To preach glad tidings to the meek and turn Their wo to ease to earn a glorious crown For sinners and to comfort those that mourn Broken-hearted ones to bind And to set at libertie Pris'ners in captivitie And give eye-sight to the blind There 's comfort in his wounds His sacred stripes Do heal our leprous souls of all their sores 'T is nothing but his pretious bloud that wipes Our guilt away and cancelleth our scores Six times did he shed his bloud And sure out estate did need it That so many times he did it And each drop was for our good Those circumcision-drops of 's infancie Those drops that 's anguish in the garden vented Those drops when he was scourged Jewishly Those drops when 's head with sharpest thorns was tented Those drops when his limbs were nailed To the crosse those when the fierce Souldiers spear his side did pierce Each drop for our good prevailed There 's comfort in his crosse That vile old man That hangs about us to our dying day Is crucified with him that it can Not exercise half of its wonted sway Lessened is its kingly power Surely sinne it struggles so Hath receiv'd a mortall blow And is dying everie houre There 's comfort in his death For us he dy'd For us he felt his Fathers heavie wrath And his impartiall justice satisfi'd And us his alsufficient passion hath Pluck'd from Satan vi armis And his meritorious pain Freed us from sinnes guilt and stain And whatever else might harm us There 's comfort in his resurrection too He rose again that we might be accounted Righteous and just This no man else could do And that our sinnes whose number farre surmounted All the starres that shine in heaven All our hairs and all the sand That lies scattered on the strand For his sake might be forgiven And God the holy Ghost doth comfort bring By speciall office it is his imployment To settle in the soul a lively spring From whence doth issue such a sweet enjoyment Of divine heart-pleasing blisse As the world will not believe Nor can any heart conceive But the heart wherein it is It is this blessed Spirit that doth seal Assurance to my conscience of a share In what God in and through his Sonne doth deal To needy sinners that converted are It assures me of Gods love In the free and full remission Of my sinnes and exhibition Of those joyes that are above Let now the world that 's wont to tell a storie Of strange delights shew me but such a pleasure As to be sure of God and Christ and glory And then I 'll hug it as my choicest treasure Thus each Person of the three Is imploy'd if I do live Holy as I ought to give Joy and comfort unto me Grant a man once to be in Christ and he On sublunarie pleasures soon will trample And yet for pleasures who shews best will vie With all the world give him but one example What gets pleasure and what feeds it Whatsoe'r mongst earthly things To the mind most pleasure brings He can shew what farre exceeds it Can learning please he is a man of parts Me thinks sure at his very fingers end He hath exactly all the liberall arts At least he hath such arts as will commend Any man a great deal more And will sooner bring to heaven Then will any of those seven On which learned men do pore His Logick is so scientificall His Syllogismes are in so blest a mood A thousand arguments his heart lets fall That rightly from good premises conclude Him a child of God on high And a member of his Sonne And an heir when 's race is runne Of a blest Eternitie His Rhetorick excells He can perswade More then those well-penn'd sweet orations which Demosthenes or Tullie ever made Doth he that prayer-hearing God beseech Presently his eare he gains For fine words it is no matter Let him like a swallow chatter Or a crane yet he obtains And for Arithmetick his numeration Is of his dayes this makes the man applie His heart to wisdome that in any station He may perform his dutie prudently And those sinnes to make them hatefull Which his conscience most do cumber Everie day the man doth number And Gods blessings to be gratefull And for Addition 't is his diligence Vertue to adde to faith to vertue knowledge Love godlinesse peace kindnesse patience One to another that his soul 's a Colledge Filled with divinest graces And not one grace idle lies But all do their exercise In their severall turns and places When he subtracteth 't is not from the poore As most men do not from the King nor Church But from sinnes monstrous bodie More and more He weakens the old man that lies at lurch In each of his faculties And his master-sinne the strongest Lust that hath been harboured longest In his soul he mortifies He multiplies not as in many places Men do his riches but he multiplies And doth augment his saving gifts and graces If not in habit yet in exercise He divides his goods he feedeth Hungrie bellies and relieveth Such as are distress'd and giveth Unto everie one that needeth When he reduceth 't is his conversation In ev'rie point from what it was by nature He moulds his life into another fashion And shews himself to be a new-made creature And for such a mans Progression He 's not fixed in his place Like a statue but in grace Grows to credit his profession He ever worketh by the Rule of Three That do above in heaven bear record The Golden Rule whereby his actions be Squar'd and directed is their written word Though sometimes he work by Fractions Gives God broken services 'Cause he 's flesh in part yet is He
great care gives warrant by and by Unto his baillifs Fever Pox and Gout Phrensie Strangury Colick Squinancy Consumption Dropsie and an ugly rout Beside these for to assail her Deaths command was that they must Tie her fast in chains of dust He gave charge that none should bail her You would not think with what a furious pace These catchpoles flie to pull this creature down But Pox was nimblest she got to her face And plow'd it up This hag goes in a gown Rugged and of colour tawny Button'd o're from top to toe Skin-deep beauties deadly foe Uglier hag was never any Fain would the rest have fastned on her too But that this hag had frighted out her soul Now looks her carcase of another hue Grim ugly lothsome ghastly and as foul As did ever eye look on What 's become of that complexion Which held all hearts in subjection In a moment all is gone If we might be so bold to dig the grave Some few years hence where this good woman lies Sure we should find this beauty but a slave To pallid putrefaction and a prize For those silly vermine worms As they crawl in stinking swarms She doth hug them in her arms And doth give them suck by turns Here 's a deformed lump indeed and this Must be the fortune of the fairest face None then are proud but fools They love amisse Whose hearts are chain'd to any thing but grace From the beauty of the skin In the loveliest outward part Lord vouchsafe to turn my heart To love that which is within Meditation 3. IF Death will come sure there will come an end Of all this worlds deep-biting misery Nothing adverse that 's here on earth doth tend Beyond the grave that 's a delivery From the pow'r of men and devils And what-ever other wo May befall us here below Death's a shelter from all evils Here I am poore my daily drops of sweat Will not maintein my full-stock'd family A dozen hungry children crie for meat And I have none nor will words satisfie Could I give their belly ears 'T were a comfort or could fill Hungry stomacks with good will Or make daily bread of tears Here the oppressour with his griping claws Sits on my skirts my racking land-lord rears Both rent and fine with potent looks he aws Me from mine own Scarce any man but bears In his bosome Ahabs heart Horse-leach-like that 's ever craving Other mens and sick of having Right or wrong will catch a part Here in these clay-built houses sicknesse reigns I have more maladies then I can name Each member of my body hath its pains Moreover weeping groning sadnesse shame Slanders melancholy fear Discontents disgraces losses And a thousand other crosses Must be born if I live here But these are finite all When I am dead My poverty is ended and my care I heare my famish'd children crie for bread No longer Then I drink I lodge I fare Just as well as Caesar doth There ends cold and nakednesse All my former wretchednesse Death is meat and drink and cloth There 's no face-grinding There the mighty cease From troubling there the weary be at rest The servant 's freed the pris'ner is at ease All 's still and quiet no man is oppress'd For incroachers there are none Not a poore man 's wronged nor Is his vineyard longed for Every man may keep his own Sicknesse there 's none when-ever Death shall take My body hence and lodge it in the clay I shall not feel a tooth or finger ake Nor any other misery that may In the least degree displease me For all sores the grave hath plasters And it cureth all disasters Of all burdens Death will ease me Malicious tongues fired below in hell There will not hurt me nor the poisonous breath Of whispering detractours I shall dwell Securely in the dust One stroke of Death Sets me out of gun-shot quite Not the deepest-piercing tongue Can there do me any wrong Bark they may but cannot bite Lord I am thine and if it be thy will While I do live a stranger here below Brim-high with bitternesse my cup to fill And make me drink 't yet Lord withall bestow But thy grace and thou shalt see me Patient and my comfort 's this That a short affliction 't is In a moment Death may free me Meditation 4. IF I must die it must be my endeavour So to provide that every thought of Death May be a thought of comfort that when-ever That aged sire shall take away my breath I may willingly lay down This old house that 's made of clay Gladly welcoming the day That brings an eternall crown But of all things a holy life 's the way Must lead me to a comfortable end To crucifie my lusts and to obey Gods sacred will in all things This doth tend Unto comfort joy and ease Mark the man that is upright And sets God alwayes in 's sight That mans end is ever peace What makes me fear a serpent 't is his sting The mischief 's there When that is taken out I can look on him as a harmlesse thing And in my bosome carry him about What makes Death look rufully Not Deaths self it is his sting That doth fear and horrour bring And makes men so loth to die The sting of death is sinne but there 's a Jesus Hath pluck'd it out The guilt 's done quite away The stain is wash'd He sent his Spirit to ease us In some good measure of that kingly sway Which o're us sinne held before Blessed work of grace now I Strongest lusts can mortifie In my soul sinne reigns no more Now in me holinesse is wrought which is A pious disposition of the heart Inclining me to hate what 's done amisse In me and others never to depart From God to left hand or right Nor one of his laws to break But to think and do and speak What 's well-pleasing in his sight Each act from faith and love ariseth and The end I aim at is my Makers praise His word 's my rule my warrant 's his command Thus am I fitted Death cut off my dayes If thou wilt within this houre I will thank thee for thy pain For to me to die is gain I 'll not fear a jote thy power What canst thou do that justly may affright me Though with thee in the dark I dwell a space Yet canst thou not eternally benight me Thou art my passage to a glorious place Where shall not be any night My rais'd ashes shall enjoy There an everlasting day And an uneclipsed light I fear not death because of putrefaction Nor if I might would willingly decline it My body gains by 't 't is the graves best action God as a founder melts it to refine it Death cannot annihilate And in despite of the grave Yet I shall a body have Fairer and in better state Gods second work excells his first by ods Our second birth life Adam to repair Our bodies is a second
Here I sojourn some few yeares This world is a countrey strange Death my pilgrimage will change For a home above the spheares In elder time the goddesse Quiet had Her temple but 't was plac'd without the gates Of Ethnick Rome to shew that good and bad Have here their vexing and disturbing fates And do bear their crosse about Whilst within the walls they stay Of this world and shall enjoy No rest till Death let them out Here I am look'd upon with divers eyes Sometimes of envy sometimes of disdain Here I endure a thousand miseries Some vex my person some my credit stain My estate 's impair'd by some But yet this doth comfort me That hereafter I shall be Better us'd when I come home In all estates my patience shall sustein me I am resolved never to repine Though ne'r so coursely this world entertein me Such is a strangers lot such must be mine Were I of the world to dwell Here as in my proper home Without thoughts of life to come Then the world would use me well I am not of their minds in whom appears No care for any world but this below Who lay up goods in store for many years As if they were at home but will bestow Neither care nor industry Upon heaven as if there They were strangers but had here A lease of eternitie The banish'd Naso weeps in sable strain The woes of banishment nor could I tell If Death and it were offer'd of the twain Which to make choice of O! to take farewell Of our native soil to part With our friends and children dear And a wife that is so near Must needs kill the stoutest heart What is 't then to be absent from that house Eternall in the heav'ns not made with hands From Angels Saints God Christ himself whose Spouse Our soul is from a haven where nothing Iands That defileth where 's no danger No fear no pain no distresse All 's eternall happinesse What is 't to be here a stranger I have been oft abroad yet ne'r could find Half that contentment which I found at home Methought that nothing suited with my mind Into what place soever I did come Though I nothing needed there Neither clothes nor drink nor meat Nor fit recreations yet Methought home exceeded farre Thither did my affections alwayes bend And I have wish'd before I came half-way A thousand times my journey at an end And have been angry with a minutes stay Sunne-set I did ever fear And a hill or dirty mile That delay'd me but a while Seem'd to set me back a yeare I built not tabernacles in mine inne Nor ever cry'd out 'T is good being here No company would I be ever in That drown'd but half an hour in wine or bier I have wish'd my horse would runne With a farre more winged speed Then those skittish jades that did Draw the chariot of the Sunne From carnall self-love Lord my heart unfetter And then shall I desire my heavenly home More then this here because that home is better And pray with fervency Thy kingdome come Lord had thy poore servant done What thou hast set him about I would never be without Holy longings to be gone Meditation 8. THere was a State as I have heard it spoken The tale doth almost all belief surpasse That had a custome never to be broken But a bad custome I am sure it was Mongst themselves their King to choose The elected man must be King as long 's they would and he When they pleas'd his crown must loose This State elected and deposed when And whom they would but the deposed Prince They suffered not to live mongst other men But drove him to a countrey farre from thence Into wofull banishment Where he chang'd his royalty For want and all misery Scarce a Kingly punishment One King there was that whilst his crown was on Knowing his subjects fickle disposition Beat his crown-worthy head to think upon Some course of providence to make provision At the place of 's banishment Full-stuff'd bags of money and What things else might purchase land He into that Kingdome sent It came to passe after some certain years His yoke seem'd heavy and his people frown'd King-sick they were their purpose soon appears A new King 's chosen and the old 's uncrow'nd And for exile this foul beast Giddy variable rude The unconstant multitude Dealt with him as with the rest But that his wiser providence was such When 's banish'd predecessours lived poore What he had sent before was full as much As did exclude want or desire of more There he lacks not any thing He doth purchase towns and fields And what else the countrey yields In estate he 's still a King So shall we fare hereafter in the next As we provide in this life Sure I see A providence in all Who is not vex'd And plung'd and lean with too much industry Men of all sorts runne and ride Sweat and toil and cark and care Get and keep and pinch and spare And all 's done for to provide For to provide what goods and lands and money Honours preferments pleasures wealth and friends As bees in summer-time provide their hony To sublunaries their provision tends And no farther 't is for dust That they labour and thick clay For these goods that will away And for treasures that will rust For to provide for what Their present life That 's naturall their bodies have their care Their spirituall state 's neglected there 's no strife For grace and goodnesse Souls immortall are Living everlastingly In eternall wo or blisse As here our provision is Yet are not a jote set by Men do provide amisse Full well I know it I shall be banish'd from this sinne-smote place All here is fading and I must forgo it What shall I lay up for hereafter grace An unspotted conscience Faith in Christ sobriety Holinesse and honesty These will help when I go hence Strengthen those graces Lord which thou hast given And I shall quickly change both care and love My care for earth into a care for heaven Take off my heart from hence and fix 't above And will lay up all provision For that life which is to come Whilst a stranger that at home I may find a blest condition PART II. Of Deaths impartiality from whose stroke neither Riches can protect us Honours Pleasures Friends Youth nor any thing Sect. I. Riches cannot protect us from the stroke of Death OF richest men in holy writ I read Whose basket whose store the Lord had blest And in the land exceedingly increas'd Their wealthy substance yet they all are dead Riches do not immortalize our nature The richest dyes as well 's the poorest creature 'Bove all the wealth of Solomon did passe Ne'r was man master of a greater store He went beyond all Kings that went before Silver as stones and purest gold as brasse Adorn'd Jerusalem a glorious thing Yet death strikes into dust this wealthy King
what 's sold is worth is stealing Or to give lesse the art of multiplying Our lands or gold or silver by subtracting From other mens or by unjust exacting What is not ours Better in my opinion It were to feed on barley-bread and pottage Made of salt water and an onion To wear a thred-bare coat and in a cottage Smoke-bound and rusty pennylesse to dwell Then to get wealth unlesse I get it well And when 't is justly gotten every thought That I 'll bestow upon it shall be such As it deserves If heav'ns full hand hath brought Plenty into my bosome if as much I have as I could wish my care shall be To think of 't all as of a vanity A vanity that for ought I do know May take its flight and in an houre leave me As God had many wayes for to bestow His bounty on me he hath to bereave me As many more as moveables I 'll deem it From me or with me and I will esteem it A strong temptation unto many a sinne That never will perform what it doth promise That wealths fair books when we are deepest in The greater reck'ning God exacteth from us I 'll not afford my wealth a better thought And I do think I think on 't as I ought And as I ought I 'll use 't Not to be fewel For any lust nor to maintein my riot Not to be prodigall vainglorious cruel Nor yet to make my potent purse disquiet My poorer brother but from thence I 'll raise My neighbours profit and my Makers praise Where there is need I 'll ready be to give Glad to distribute naked ones I 'll cover Hungry and thirsty souls I will relieve Widows distress'd in me shall find another Husband to orphanes I will be in stead Of parents to provide their daily bread I 'll never empty send the poore away The Church shall ever find my purse unty'd The King shall have his due without delay The Common-wealth shall never be deny'd Thus shall my wealth be common unto many If ever God be pleas'd to send me any Riches so justly gotten and imploy'd So piously although they cannot make A man immortall that he should avoid The grave and rottennesse yet do not shake The soul with terrours and such desperate fears As what 's ill gotten doth when Death appears Make me a faithfull Steward holy Father Of what thou hast intrusted me withall Where I straw'd not grant I may never gather Nor sinne in spending Then send Death to call Me to account Lord when thou wilt and I Shall entertein the message joyfully Sect. 2. Honours cannot protect us from the stroke of Death OF honours all that can be said doth meet In Kings and Princes glory majesty Command and titles yet their sacred feet Trudge to the grave-ward Power Royaltie A Kingdome Crown and Sceptre cannot be Protections against mortalitie Princes are Gods on earth yet sure they must As well as meaner men be sick and die Their Royall bodies shall be chang'd to dust No crown below is worn eternally Of all those Kings which in Gods book we reade One died and another reign'd in 's stead If good and loyall subjects had their wish A gracious Prince should never see the grave Nor should his Royall corps be made a dish For worms but pious wishes will not save A King from dust As other mens his breath Is in his nostrils Crowns must bow to Death Sure were it not a kind of petty treason To wish his Majesty so long without A crown of glory I should think it reason To pray his lamp of life might ne'r go out Though not in 's self yet Lord grant he may be Immortall in a blessed progenie Meditation 1. MOngst us an humble great one is a wonder Rarer by ods then is a winters thunder Great men and good each other seldome kisse Pride to preferment 's married O! there is Not a thought within their brain Of a grave nor yet of seeing Death nor do they dream of being Changed into dust again Consider Sir though you have been a taster Of Princes favours mounted all degrees Of honour have been called Lord and Master Though your approch hath bow'd as many knees As once mighty Hamans yet Is it not Eternity That you hold your greatnesse by Death and you must one day meet As I remember I have read a story That one in Embassy sent from the King Of Persia to Rome was shew'd the glory Of that proud citie every famous thing That was by the Romanes thought To expresse the great and mighty Prowesse of their glorious city Thither was the Persian brought There he beheld such glorious structures rais'd To dare the skies that outwent all examples Where art and cost workman and founder prais'd Baths Theatres Tombs Monuments and Temples Statues that would wonder-strike Any mortall man that should Once behold them neither could All the world shew the like After this view Romes mighty Emperour Longing for praises in the Persian tongue Demanded of this strange Embassadour What he now thought of Rome I should do wrong To your sacred Majesty Thus th' Ambassadour reply'd And this glorious place beside If I should not magnifie Both you and it But one thing I dislike In Rome it self I see that Death doth reigne As well here as in Persia and doth strike The greatest down and when he please doth chain People Senatours and Kings In cold fetters made of dust Even noble Romanes must Feel what putrefaction brings Your Emperours themselves have had their turns In fun'rall piles These tombs can testify The Caesars mortall In these sacred urns What lies but royall dust Mortality Happens here and I know no man But hath power to hold his breath As long and is free from Death As much as the noblest Romane Look we a little on this land of ours Here 's plenty peace and every other blessing Into her bosome God in plenteous showres Rains kindnesses that are beyond expressing Sure we of this kingdome may Justly our Creatour praise For a share in happier dayes Then Rome did at best enjoy Ours is a land of barly and of wheat Our stones are iron and our hills yield brafse A land wherein th' inhabitants do eat Bread without scarcenesse here our blessings passe All enumeration What God severally bestows Upon others joyntly flows From his bounty to this nation Yet here men die too not the russet Clowns And Peasants onely that do hold the plow And Shepherds that sit piping on the downs And milk-maids that do court'sie to a cow But those noble men that have Titles lordships farms and mannours And a great book full of honours These go down into the grave See you not yonder super-stately palace Three generations since that house was builded A great man did it for his Lordships solace In summer-time but dying up he yielded To his heir this stately pile This heir left it to his brother He dy'd too and then another Swagger'd there
a little while And he that had it last is now remov'd A story lower down into the dust Those swelling titles which were so belov'd That great estate in which the man did trust Troups of gallants that did give Their attendance all that treasure Waiting on his Lordships pleasure Could not keep the man alive Mark yonder marble-tomb beneath it hath This man a lodging All those lines you see On this side are a praising Epitaph And on the other side his titles be Of this fabrick if we might One piece from another sunder And behold what lyeth under 'T would be scarce so fair a sight Great ones remember that there is a place Which poore men call a death-bed and a time Of parting hence you walk a nimble pace To earth-ward every houre Here though you climb Up to Honour's highest round Drink a cup full to the brim Of the world in pleasures swim Death will lay you under ground Meditation 2. VVHose heart so adamantine but would weep Sad crimson drops to think upon some risers Lord what a wicked shuffling they do keep To lift themselves Some have been sacrificers Of their fathers brothers friends Kinsfolk children and have stood Wetshod every step in bloud To attein their lofty ends Of martyrs what a lamentable heap Did Herod make for fear to loose his crown A mother would have sold a cradle cheap To buy a coffin or a mourning gown This fell Tyrants rage appears Running down each Parents face His wrath left in every place Childlesse mothers drown'd in tears And Absolom that miracle of beauty So eagerly did long to be a King That he could soon unlearn his filiall duty And by a strange rebellion fain would bring The thrice-venerable head Of his aged father down To the grave without a crown And he triumph in his stead Abimelech so strong was his ambition A bloudie bargain made with certain men Of Belial and to hinder competition Did sacrifice at once threescore and ten Of his brothers on a stone With so foul and deep a guilt So much harmlesse bloud is spilt That himself may reigne alone Of that inhumane hell bred tragedie By Athaliah on the royall seed The motive was desire of majestie And that her own arms might the better speed Our third Richard goes for one Of those butchers who think good To cement their crowns with bloud And by murders reach a throne The great Turks absolute prerogative Which in securitie his crown mainteins Is not to suffer one of them to live That hath a drop of royall bloud in 's veins When he 's crown'd there 's nothing lacking That may to the safetie tend Of this Monarch but to send The ghosts of his kinsmen packing If I at leisure were to write a storie Of such black deeds as these at large I could Tell you of numbers who to purchase glorie Honours and high rooms in the world have sold And this policie they call A good conscience dearer farre Then a thousand kingdomes are And to boot their God and all And yet when all is done there dwells a God above A God that 's greater then the greatest are Who can and will send Death for to remove The greatest hence and bring them to the barre Where must stand both small and great To have sentence e'r they go Of eternall blisse or wo At Gods dreadfull judgement-seat When you are seated highest let your carriage Be full of pietie you do an act Worthy your greatnesse if you make a marriage 'Twixt it and goodnesse if you do contract Honours unto holynesse Ever give the Lord his due Honour who hath honoured you Then will Death affright the lesse Affright the lesse 't will not affright at all The errand 's welcome when a charge is giv'n To that grim pursuivant that he must call Your honours hence unto a court in heav'n To be great is not the thing That can dying-comforts yield Goodnesse onely is the field Whence all soul-refreshings spring Meditation 3. JF ever it should please God and the King Which I do not desire to give me honours Yet never should my best preferments bring Vices to boot they should not change my manners Many a man hath been good Unpreferr'd and not a slave To his lusts yet honours have Put him in another mood Of Saul we heare no evil whilst he stood Endow'd with nothing but a private fortune And afterward we heare as little good Of Saul a King His honours did importune His bad nature to produce Such fruits as were too unfit For a King and to commit Sinnes that were beyond excuse As long as man is limited within The bounds of humble base and mean estate He seems to make some conscience of a sinne And one that would be good at any rate But no wickednesse he spares When by chance the man is mounted And mongst great ones is accounted Then the man himself declares Then his depraved nature with loose rains Runnes uncontrolledly into the mire Of all impietie no sinne remains Unacted by him doth he but desire To be wicked vain or idle Any lust to satisfie That lust he will gratifie His affections wear no bridle I 'll never be deboist although my seat Of glory in the world be ne'r so high I will not therefore sinne because I 'm great For if I greater were yet I must die And must at Gods bench appear Where my sentence shall be given To receive a hell or heaven As my doings have been here Sect. 3. Pleasures cannot protect us from the stroke of Death Under the sunne there was not any joy Which Solomon that wise and famous King Had not a tast of whatsoever may Gladnesse content delight and solace bring That he from the creature gathers Not one pleasure doth he keep His heart from yet he 's asleep In the dust among his fathers His senses had those objects which delight Content and please and ravish most his touch His tast his hearing smelling and his sight His mind and humour too all had as much Of delicious satisfaction As from all beneath the skie Ever could be fetched by Any possible extraction Three hundred concubines he had to please His touch by turns each of them was his guest At night Seven hundred wives beside all these The worst of them a Princesse at the least Such a female armie meets To make his delight run o'r Sure they are enough to store Twice five hundred pair of sheets To please his tast this great Kings daily chear Exceeded for varietie and plentie He had his Roe-buck and his Fallow-deer His fatted fowl and everie other daintie He had palate-pleasing wine Gormandizers whose best wishes Terminate in toothsome dishes No where else would sup or dine And everie day both men and women-singers Imprisoned his eare with charming voices The Viol touch'd with artificiall fingers An Organs breathing most melodious noises Sackbut Psalterie Recorder The shrill Cornet and the sharp Trumpet Dulcimer and Harp These all sounded in
their order And in his gardens he had lovely ranks Of flowres for odour all sweets else excelling Whose beauteous lustre stellifi'd the banks All these were to delight his sense of smelling And perfumes of sweetest savour Which all other nations bring As a present from their King Who did woo his Princely favour For objects which were wont to please the eye He wanted none Did he desire a sight Of what might most affect variety Of lovely'st objects spangled with delight Everiewhere themselves present Scarce did anywhere appear Other objects then did wear Outsides clothed with content Behold his thousand wives If he would know The height of beautie it is seen in those A battel in a field of sanguine snow Betwixt the spotlesse lilie and the rose Part they would on no condition Nor would either of them yield Yet at length are reconcil'd And there made a composition His gorgeous clothes his silver and his gold His jewels his incomparable treasure Were all of them delightsome to behold And gave the eye a glorious glut of pleasure His friends his magnificent Buildings fish-ponds gardens bowers Interlac'd with gallant flowers Gave both eye and mind content Yet he 's dead Delights cannot protect us From Deaths assaults pleasures eternize not Our nature yea when sicknesse shall deject us They will not ease nor comfort us a jote What doth most exactly please us Here appears not where a grave is And what most of all doth ravish On a death-bed will not ease us Meditation 1. MEthinks the trade of brainlesse Epicures Is not so good as it doth seem to be The sweetest cup of luxury procures No man below an immortalitie Yea when sicknesses do lay Him upon his bed and strain Everie part with deadly pain All his pleasures flie away Let 's put the case there was a belly-god Whose studie 't was to give his throat content To sacrifice to 's panch both rost and sod Was his religion Every element Its imployment had The Waters Fruitfull Earth and nimble Air Ransack'd with a costly care For fish flesh and fowl were caters The other cook'd it This luxurious race Did breath his stomach twice a day at least And each dish floted in provoking sawce Which still afresh his appetite increas'd From Dives that 's now in hell For a table full of rare Toothsome and delicious fare This man bears away the bell Well this fat hog of Epicurus stie Falls sick of surfeting or else the gout Or dropsie gripes him most tormentingly That you would think his soul were going out Pains do hinder him from sleeping He lies restlesse and is so Full of tossings to and fro That his house is fill'd with weeping His servants seeing him so out of quiet Sadly bespoke him thus Sir here 's a Phesant A dish of Partridge Larks or Quails a diet Your Worship loves a cup of rich and pleasant Wine that comforts where it goes Muscadine Canarie Sherrie That hath often made you merrie This may ease you of your throes The man repli'd If I had wine by ods Better then nectar which the poets feigne Was drunk in goblets by the heathen Gods It would not ease me of my smallest pain Should God rain me from the skies Manna glorious Angels food 'T would not do me any good 'gainst it would my stomachrise There was another that plac'd no delight In any thing but wealth his chiefest good Was purest gold whether 't were wrong or right He would be gaining for he never stood Upon conscience at all And to cry down avarice As he thought was a device Merely puritanicall To lie to cheat to swear and which is worse To forswear to dissemble in his dealing Went ever down with him as things of course Nor would he slack a jote at down-right stealing Blind he was not yet he saw Not that statute-usury Was at all forbidden by Any part of morall law 'T was fish whatever came within his net Sweet smell'd the dunghill that affoorded gain On such a thriving pinne his heart was set No thoughts but golden lodged in his brain Scraping thus early and late And increasing by these bad Wayes and means at length he had Heaped up a vast estate They say a Turkish Musulman that dies A faithfull servant unto Mahomet Shall presently enjoy a paradise Of brave delights indeed The place is set All about with glorious matters There are rivers pleasant benches Straw'd with flowres gallant wenches That have eyes as broad as platters And many other joyes as good as these But all are bables to that strong content Wherewith the man we told you of doth please Himself in his estate More merriment In the images of Kings Doth he find then six or seven Martyr'd Turks do in their heaven Hearken how the miser sings I 'll eat drink and play And I 'll freely enjoy My pleasures before I am old I 'll be sorie no more For my soul hath in store Abundance of silver and gold In this day and night Will I place my delight It shall fatten my heart with laughter No man shall excell me For who is 't can tell me What pleasures there will be hereafter His irreligious song was hardly ended When at his gate was heard one softly knocking It was that Tyrant Death who came attended With troups of griping throes all these came flocking Round about this golden fool As the issue did assure us God had sent these ghastly Furies For to take away his soul Alas Sir said his servants what may be The cause you send us out such wofull grones How fell you into such an agonie What ails your throat your head your heart your bones Or your stomach or your brains That you howl so here before you Is that which must needs restore you And ease your extremest pains Here 's gold and silver and as stately stuff As England Scotland France or Ireland yields Of jewels and of plate you have enough Of any man you have the fruitfull'st fields Fattest oxen throng your stall Tenants tumble in your rent Those to whom you mony lent Bring both use and principall This cannot chuse but comfort But the man That lay upon his easelesse death-bed sprawling Made this replie If any of you can By marks infallible make sure my calling To my soul and my election If from any text divine You could prove that Christ is mine This would be a good refection Or if you could assure my parting ghost Of seeing God to all Eternitie Of being one amongst that heavenly host Whose blisse it is to praise him endlessely This were comfort that accordeth With his case that is distrest As now I am but the rest On a death-bed none affoordeth There was another man whose occupation Was to passe time away he made a trade Of that which men do call a recreation He was indeed a very merry blade Taverns bowling-alleys playes Dauncing fishing fowling racing Hawking hunting coursing tracing Took up all his healthfull dayes But on a
time a sudden sicknesse came And seised him in each extremer part This grudging did begin to spoil his game But at the length it fast'ned on his heart There it plung'd him wofully And forthwith the man is led Home and laid upon his bed Think him now at point to die A little after came into the room A gallant troup of necessarie stuff His coachman falconer huntsman page and groom His mistresse with her hands both in a muff Sorie all to see him so But see how these fools invent To give a sick man content And to ease him ere they go One breaks a jest another tells a tale One strikes the lute another sings a dittie But neither of them pray to God at all Another tells what news is in the citie Everie man is in his vein And all jointly do contrive Pleasant passages to drive Out of doore their masters pain They ask'd him if he pleas'd to take the air Or call for 's coach and ride to see a play And whether he would hunt the buck or hare Or to a tavern go to drive away Or to drown times tediousnesse Or else to a tennis-court Whither gallants do resort Or else play a game at chesse The man reply'd Ye know I must be gone The way of all I cannot tell how soon And I have other things to think upon Already it is with me afternoon Erelong my declining sunne Needs must set Oh! my life hangs On a thred these mortall pangs Crack it Out my glasse is runne Time was I doted on these idle toyes Now can they not a dram of comfort yield Too late I see they are not death-bed joyes No refuge from soul-vexing storms no shield When a mortall blow is given Prate no more let not a man Open 's mouth unlesse he can Tell me how to get to heaven There was another that for nothing car'd It was a woman but for vain excesse In bravery of clothes no cost was spar'd Nor art nor care that served to expresse To the full a female pride But at length it came to passe That this spruce and gallant lasse Fell extremely sick and di'd But I must tell you that whilst like a lion Pains tore her bones in pieces ere she sent Her last breath out imagine her of Sion A matchlesse daughter to her chamber went Weeping ripe her good handmaiden Purposing as much as may be To chear up her dying Ladie For with comforts was she laden Thus she began and spake it with a grace Be comforted good Madame never let A little sicknesse spoil so good a face Your Ladyship cannot so soon forget Your contents If ever any Gentlewoman liv'd that might Find materialls of delight You good Madame have as many Here for your feeet are tinkling ornaments Here are your bonnets and your net-work-cauls Fine linen tōo that every eye contents Your head-bands tablets eare-rings chains and falls Your nose-jewels and your rings Your hoods crisping-pinnes wimples Glasses that bewray your pimples Vails and other pretty things Here are your dainty mantles and your sutes Of changeable apparel and your tires Round like the moon your bracelets finger-fruits Of busie houres mufflers and golden wires And so many more that no man Can repeat nor yet remember From October to September This would comfort any woman Suppose her if you will an English Lady And think you heare her waiting-gentlewoman Bespeak her thus Madame here is a gawdy And glorious shew these fashions are not common Here 's your beaver and your feather Here are silver-ribband knots Trunks full of rich riding-coats Gallant shelters 'gainst the weather Here are your holland and your cambrick-smocks Your gowns of velvet satten taffatie Irons to curvifie your flaxen locks And spangled roses that outshine the skie For your head here 's precious geere Bonelace-cros-cloths squares shadows Dressings which your Worship made us Work upon above a yeare Rich chains of pearl to tie your hair together And others to adorn your snowie breast Silk stockings starre-like shoes of Spanish leather And that which farre excelleth all the rest And begets most admiration Of your clothes is not their matter Though the world affords not better But it is their Frenchest fashion Madame believe 't the fairest of the Graces Subscribes to you Whenever you appear Adorned with your gold and silver-laces Your presence makes the greedi'st eye good chear This consideration In time past was wont to please you Now then Madame let it ease you And afford you consolation The dying woman when this speech was done After a grone or two made this replie Doth such a curtain-lecture suit with one That everie houre doth look when she should die 'T is not congruous Wer'st thou able My poore naked soul to dresse With a Saviours righteousnesse This indeed were comfortable But all the rest is not Oh! how I grieve To think upon my former vanitie Alas I feel these toyes cannot relieve Nor ease nor comfort Thus let luxurie Pitch on what it will its joyes Are but painted nor can bring us Ease when pangs of Death do wring us Much lesse can they make our dayes Eternall here Thy servant Lord beseecheth The presence of thy spirit that discovers How vain that carnall joy is which bewitcheth With pleasant poison all her sottish lovers Let-not earth-delights forestall me Help thy servant to provide Pleasures that will then abide When thou sendest Death to call me Meditation 2. FArewell those pleasures which the creatures breed These carnall comforts shall be none of mine They slink away in time of greatest need I 'll get me comforts that are more divine Such as God provideth for us By his Spirit and in his word They are such as will afford Joy unspeakable and glorious Unsanctified palates cannot find A relish in Gods service 't is their follie That nothing in it suiteth with their mind That they account religion melancholie And the cause of their misprision Is because they cannot see Things divine for yet they be In their naturall condition But sanctified souls have better eyes Each Person in the sacred Trinitie Sends comfort down and such as farre outvies The best delight that is below the skie Father Sonne and holy Ghost Be it spoke with reverence Seem to strive which shall dispense Blessings that do comfort most The Father as his title often writes Himself a God of peace and consolation He sends me comforts by those sacred lights Which bring me errands from his habitation And so firm and full and free Is each promise in his book That on whichsoe'r I look Blessed comforts I do see So firm that first the hugest hills and mountains Shall dance out of their places starres shall fall Streams shall run backward to their mother-fountains The earth shall tumble ere he will recall One of 's promises For why And this gives strong consolation In the middest of temptation He 's a God and cannot lie So full that there 's not any thing left out
That thirstie drie and barren land did yawn And gape to heav'n-ward for a draught of drink Just so whene'r Gods favour is withdrawn From a soul it doth distresse her Ne'r earth thirsted more for rain Then doth she for God again To relieve her and refresh her Have you not seen a mothers wofull tears Embalm the carcase of her onely sonne How to all comfort she stops both her eares Wrings both her hands and makes a bitter moan Fain in sorrow would she swim Or be drown'd it is so deep She hath heart enough to weep Heaven full up to the brim But this is nothing to that matchlesse anguish That breaks in pieces ev'rie pious heart And makes the soul with darkest sadnesse languish If from 't a sense of Gods good will depart O how strangely David 's troubled When God hid away his face Though but for a little space See how his complaints are doubled How long for ever Lord wilt thou forget me How long wilt thou thy gratious visage hide How long be angrie wilt thou never let me Enjoy thy face again shall I abide Thus for evermore bereft Of all comfort joy and peace Shall my soul ne'r dwell at ease Hast thou Lord no mercy left O once again be pleas'd to turn and give My soul a relish of thy wonted grace There 's nothing can my sadded heart relieve If thou dost hide thy comfortable face Thou in tears thy servant drown'st Thou dost fill my cheeks with furrows And my soul with ghastly sorrows Whensoever Lord thou frown'st The world doth value at a precious rate Things here below Some highly prize their sport Some jewels some a plentifull estate And some preferments in a Princes court But for life we so esteem it Above whatsoe'r is best That with losse of all the rest We are ready to redeem it But none of these Gods children do regard So much as Gods love by a thousand parts Feel they but this to entertein 't is spar'd The best and highest room in all their hearts They affect no wordly pelf In comparison of this Kindnesse yea to them it is Better farre then life it self Have they no reason for this eager thirst After Gods love and friendship sure they see Gods favour and his kindnesse is the first And chiefest good all other friendships be Most deceitfull trustlesse vain When the pangs of Death do seise us Mortall favours cannot ease us God can rid us of our pain But grant he do not yet these pains shall send Our souls to him that loves us to enjoy A painlesse life that ne'r shall see an end He whom God loves can on a death-bed say I know my Redeemer liveth For me there 's laid up a crown When this clay-built house is down God a better mansion giveth I 'll never woo the smile of man whose breath Is in his nostrils by sinister wayes 'T will not advantage at the houre of Death All my supportment on these carnall stayes At the length will but deceive me 'T is to have a friend above 'T is Gods favour and his love Or else nothing must relieve me Lord make thy graces in my soul appear My heart from ev'rie lothsome blemish cleanse That I may clearly see thine image there For that 's an undeceived evidence Of thy favour which when I Once am certain to obtein I 'll not faint for any pain Nor will care how soon I die Sect. 5. Youth cannot protect us from the stroke of Death A Young man may die but an old man must This may die quickly that cannot live long Often are graves fill'd full with youthfull dust Though youth be jocund lustie merrie strong Yet is it subject unto Death-bed-pains 'T is mortall bloud that runnes along their veins In all appearance old mens halting feet are Mov'd to the grave-ward with the greatest speed Like that disciples which did outrunne Peter But sometimes younger men step in indeed And peradventure twentie years or more Sooner then those that looked in before Graves gape for ev'rie sort The butcher 's seen Often to kill the youngest of the flock Some long to pluck those apples that are green Death crops the branches and forbears the stock Children are wrapp'd up in their winding-sheets And aged parents mourn about the streets Jobs children di'd before himself for after The death of ten he liv'd to get ten other We sigh out Ah my sonne or Ah my daughter As oft as Ah my father or my mother The first that ever di'd resign'd his breath Nine hundred yeares before his fathers death Yea many times Deaths gripings are so crucl Before the groning mothers child-birth-pain Is past the infant 's buri'd like a jewel But shewn and presently shut up again Perhaps within a minute after birth Is forthwith sent to cradle in the earth Perhaps he is not born at all yet dies And dies a verie thriftie Death to save Fun'rall expenses he in 's mother lies Entombed both lodg'd in a single grave And with him lies in one poore narrow room His swadling-clouts nurse mother cradle tomb Meditation 1. SOme sinnes there be as holy writ doth teach That interrupt the current of our dayes He that 's found gultie of them cannot reach That length of life which he that 's free enjoyes Sinne you know and Death are twins Or Death is Sinnes progeny Many of us if we die In our youth may thank our sinnes One sinne is disobedience to that pair Which did beget us If I shall despise My parents lawfull precepts if my care Be not to do what 's pleasing in their eyes If I willingly neglect Any thing which I do know Is a duty that I ow I may Death betimes expect Another sinne is unprepar'd receiving That blessed Supper which doth feed and heal And in and to a soul that is believing A full release of sinnes doth freely seal Where that body and that bloud Is presented on the table Which are infinitely able To do hungri'st sinners good If I come hither an unworthie guest Or if before my heart I do not prove Or if I come as to a common feast Or come without Thanks Knowledge Faith and Love If I carrie any crime Thither with me unlamented Or go ere I have repented Death may take me hence betime Another is Bloud-thirstinesse when we To do a mischief are so strongly bent That we sleep not unlesse our projects be Contrived to insnare the innocent When we are so like the Devil Everie way satanicall That tongue brains heart hands and all Are imploy'd in what is evil These sinnes and others like them do procure Untimely Deaths Lord purifie my heart From everie sinne but chiefly Lord secure My soul from these that I may not depart Hence too soon Lord my desire Is not to live long but I Onely pray that I may die In thy favour not thine ire Meditation 2. THere is a sinne that seldome doth escape A rich mans heir yet 't is a foul transgression For
many sleepie mortals go to bed With healthful bodies and do rise no more How many hungry mortals have been fed Contentedly at dinner yet before Against a second meal they whet their knives Death steals away their stomachs and their lives How many in the morning walk abroad For to be breath'd on by the keener air Perhaps to clarifie their grosser bloud Or else to make their rougher cheeks look fair But e'r they tread a furlong in the frost Death nips them so their former labour 's lost Nature is parsimonious Man may live With little but alas with how much lesse A man may die There 's nothing but may give A mortall blow small matters may undresse Our souls of clay A thousand wayes we have To send our crazie bodies to the grave The elements confeder how they may Procure our Death the Air we suck to live It self hath poi'sned thousands in a day And made such havock that the slain did strive For elbow-room in Church-yards houses were Good cheap and onely shrowds and coffins dear If we could come to speak with Pharaoh's ghost 'T would tell how many met with sudden graves Beneath the water that a mighty host Was slain and buried by the surly waves Except a few which surfeted with store The crop-sick sea did vomit on the shore Sometimes our mother Earth as if she were So hunger-bitten that she needs must eat Her children gapes as for some toothsome cheer And multitudes one swallow down doth let Which either in her womb she doth bestow Or else doth send them to the world below That usefull creature Fire whose light and heat Doth comfort and when Earth doth penance warm us Whose cookerie provides us wholesome meat Yet mortally this element doth harm us One morning sent from heav'n such dreadfull flashes As did intomb five cities in their ashes We may remember some that have been kill'd By falls of buildings some by drunken swords By beasts both wild and tame our bloud is spill'd There 's not a creature but a death affords 'Bove fourtie childrens limbs God's anger tears In pieces with the teeth of savage bears But there 's some likely hood that sudden Death By means like these may easily befall us But many times we mortalls lose our breath By wayes lesse probable The Lord doth call us Upon a sudden hence by petty things Sometimes the meanest means Death's errand brings Our staff of life may kill a little crumb Of bread may choke us going down awry A small hair in their drink hath caused some To breath their last By any thing we die Sometimes a sudden grief or sudden joy Have might enough to take our souls away Meditation 1. HOw weak 's the thread of life that any thing How weak so e'r can break it by and by How short 's the thread of life that Death can bring Both ends of it together suddenly Well may the scriptures write the life of man As weak as water and as short 's a span How soon is water spilt upon the ground Once spilt what hand can gather 't up again Fome that doth rise to day is seldome found Floting to morrow When the wanton rain Gets bubbles to make sport with on the water A minute breaks them into their first matter Such is our life How soon doth Death uncase Our souls and when they once are fled away Who can return them As upon the face Of thirstie ground when water 's shed to day The morrow sees it not so when we die None can revive us as we fall we lie Our life 's a vapour Vapours do arise Sometimes indeed with such a seeming power As if they would eclipse the glorious skies And muffle up the world but in an houre Or two at most these vapours are blown o'r And leave the air as clear as 't was before We look big here a little while and bristle And shoulder in the smiling world as though There were no dancing but as we would whistle So strangely domineer we here below But as a vapour in a sun-shine day We vanish on a fudden quite away Our life is like the smoke of new-made fire As we in age and stature upward tend Our dissolutio is so much the nigher Smoke builds but castles in the air ascend Indeed it doth aloft but yet it must At high'st dissolve we vanish into dust What is a shadow Nothing Grant it were A thing that had a name and being too Yet let a cloud 'twixt us and heav'n appear It s turn'd into its former nothing Do Our shadows vanish surely so do we At noon a man at night a corps we see Our life 's a cloud and from varietie Of vapours are created diverse sorts The stronger last a time the weaker flie With lesfe ado yet half a day transports Both strong'st and weakest hence and in their flight Their nimble speed outrunnes the quickest sight Some men are healthfull merrie lustie strong Some crazy weak sad sickly drooping both Post hence with winged speed we may not wrong Life's footmanship for sure with greater sloth Clouds through the air the strongest wind doth send Then frail mans life doth gallop to its end With greater sloth A man that now is here Perhaps an houre yea half a minute hence That man may in another world appear Our life moves faster then those things which sense Acquaint us with faster then ships by farre Or birds or bullets that do plow the air All flesh is grasse how suddenly that fades Grasse in the morning standeth proudly green E'r night the husbandmen prepare their blades To cut it down and not a leaf is seen But e'r the morrow 's wither'd into hay That in its summer-suit was cloth'd to day We grow and flourish in the world a space Our dayes with ease mirth health strength heav'n doth crown But 't is not long we run this happy race Death cometh with his sithe and mows us down When we are apt to say for ought we know As yet we have an age of dayes to grow Our life 's a flower that groweth in the field A garden-flower is but a fading thing Though it hath hedges banks and walls to shield It self from cropping long 't is e'r the spring Doth bring it forth three quarters of a yeare Are gone before its beauty doth appear And when it shineth in its fairest pride One hand or other will be sure to pluck it But let 's suppose all snatching fingers ty'd And grant withall that never Bee doth suck it To blemish it a jote yet will the breath Of winter blow the fairest flower to death 'T is long before we get us very farre Into the world for after generation There is a time when lifelesse lumps we are And have not bodies of a humane fashion Such as we have both life and motion want And when we live we live but like a plant A while we do but grow then like a beast We have our senses next indeed we live The