our cleanlinesse Hath one such beautie Then how are all things neat More servants wait on Man Then he 'l take notice of in ev'ry path He treads down that which doth befriend him When sicknesse makes him pale and wan Oh mightie love Man is one world and hath Another to attend him Since then my God thou hast So brave a Palace built O dwell in it That it may dwell with thee at last Till then afford us so much wit That as the world serves us we may serve thee And both thy servants be ¶ Antiphon Chor. PRaised be the God of love Men. Here below Angels And here above Cho. Who hath dealt his mercies so Ang. To his friend Men. And to his foe Cho. That both grace and glorie tend Ang. Us of old Men. And us in th' end Cho. The great shepherd of the fold Ang. Us did make Men. For us was sold. Cho. He our foes in pieces brake Ang. Him we touch Men. And him we take Cho. Wherefore since that he is such Ang. We adore Men. And we do crouch Cho. Lord thy praises should be more Men. We have none Ang. And we no store Cho. Praised be the God alone Who hath made of two folds one ¶ Unkindnesse LOrd make me coy and tender to offend In friendship first I think if that agree Which I intend Unto my friends intent and end I would not use a friend as I use Thee If any touch my friend or his good name It is honour and my love to free His blasted fame From the least spot or thought of blame I could not use a friend as I use Thee My friend may spit upon my curious floore Would he gave gold I lend it instantly But let the poore And thou within them starve at doore I cannot use a friend as I use Thee When that my friend pretendeth to a place I quit my interest and leave it free But when thy grace Sues for my heart I thee displace Nor would I use a friend as I use Thee Yet can a friend what thou hast done fulfill O write in brasse My God upon a tree His bloud did spill Onely to purchase my good-will Yet use I not my foes as I use thee ¶ Life I Made a posie while the day ran by Here will I smell my remnant out and tie My life within this band But time did becken to the flowers and they By noon most cunningly did steal away And wither'd in my hand My hand was next to them and then my heart I took without more thinking in good part Times gentle admonition Who did so sweetly deaths sad taste convey Making my minde to smell my fatall day Yet sugring the suspicion Farewell deare flowers sweetly your time ye spent Fit while ye liv'd for smell or ornament And after death for cures I follow straight without complaints or grief Since if my sent be good I care not if It be as short as yours ¶ Submission BUt that thou art my wisdome Lord And both mine eyes are thine My minde would be extreamly stirr'd For missing my designe Were it not better to bestow Some place and power on me Then should thy praises with me grow And share in my degree But when I thus dispute and grieve I do resume my sight And pilfring what I once did give Disseize thee of thy right How know I if thou shouldst me raise That I should then raise thee Perhaps great places and thy praise Do not so well agree Wherefore unto my gift I stand I will no more advise Onely do thou lend me a hand Since thou hast both mine eyes ¶ Justice I Cannot skill of these thy wayes Lord thou didst make me yet thou woundest me Lord thou dost wound me yet thou dost relieve me Lord thou relievest yet I die by thee Lord thou dost kill me yet thou dost reprieve me But when I mark my life and praise Thy justice me most fitly payes For I do praise thee yet I praise thee not My prayers mean thee yet my prayers stray I would do well yet sinne the hand hath got My soul doth love thee yet it loves delay I cannot skill of these my wayes ¶ Charms and Knots WHo reade a chapter when they rise Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes A poore mans rod when thou dost ride â—s both a weapon and a guide Who shuts his hand hath lost his gold Who opens it hath it twice told Who goes to bed and doth not pray Maketh two nights to ev'ry day Who by aspersions throw a stone At th' head of others hit their own Who looks on ground with humble eyes Findes himself there and seeks to rise When th' hair is sweet through pride or lust The powder doth forget the dust Take one from ten and what remains Ten still if sermons go for gains In shallow waters heav'n doth show But who drinks on to hell may go ¶ Affliction MY God I read this day That planted Paradise was not so firm As was and is thy floting Ark whose stay And anchor thou art onely to confirm And strengthen it in ev'ry age When waves do rise and tempests rage At first we liv'd in pleasure Thine own delights thou didst to us impart When we grew wanton thou didst use displeasure To make us thine yet that we might not part As we at first did board with thee Now thou wouldst taste our miserie There is but joy and grief If either will convert us we are thine Some Angels us'd the first if our relief Take up the second then thy double line And sev'rall baits in either kinde Furnish thy table to thy minde Affliction then is ours We are the trees whom shaking fastens more While blustring windes destroy the wanton bowres And ruffle all their curious knots and store My God so temper joy and wo That thy bright beams may tame thy bow ¶ Mortification HOw soon doth man decay When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets To swaddle infants whose young breath Scarce knows the way Those clouts are little winding sheets Which do consigne and send them unto death When boyes go first to bed They step into their voluntarie graves Sleep bindes them fast onely their breath Makes them not dead Successive nights like rolling waves Convey them quickly who are bound for death When youth is frank and free And calls for musick while his veins do swell All day exchanging mirth and breath In companie That musick summons to the knell Which shall befriend him at the house of death When man grows staid and wise â—etting a house and home where he may move Within the circle of his breath Schooling his eyes That dumbe inclosure maketh love Into the coffin that attends his death When age grows low and weak Marking his grave and thawing ev'ry yeare Till all do melt and drown his breath When he would speak A chair or litter shows the biere Which shall convey him to the house of death Man ere he is aware Hath
temper'd with a sinners tears â—Balsome are for both the Hemispheres â—â—ring all wounds but mine all but my fears Was ever grief c. Yet my Disciples sleep I cannot gain One houre of watching but their drowsie brain Comforts not me and doth my doctrine stain Was ever grief like 〈◊〉 Arise arise they come Look how they runne Alas what haste they make to be undone How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne Was ever grief c. With clubs and staves they seek me as a thief Who am the way of truth the true relief Most true to those who are my greatest grief Was ever grief c. Iudas dost thou betray me with a kisse Canst thou finde hell about my lips and misse Of life just at the gates of life and blisse Was ever grief c. See they lay hold on me not with the hands Of faith but furie yet at their commands I suffer binding who have loos'd their bands Was ever grief c. All my Disciples flie fear puts a barre Betwixt my friends and me They leave the starre That brought the wise men of the East from farre Was ever grief c. Then from one ruler to another bound They leade me urging that it was not sound What I taught Comments would the text confouâ— Was ever grief c. The Priest and rulers all false witnesse seek 'Gainst him who seeks not life but is the meek And readie Paschal Lambe of this great week Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 they accuse me of great blasphemie 〈◊〉 I did thrust into the Deitie 〈◊〉 never thought that any robberie Was ever grief like mine 〈◊〉 said that I the Temple to the floore 〈◊〉 three dayes raz'd and raised as before 〈◊〉 he that built the world can do much more Was ever grief c. Then they condemne me all with that same breath Which I do give them daily unto death Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth Was ever grief c. They binde and leade me unto Herod he Sends me to Pilate This makes them agree But yet their friendship is my enmitie Was ever grief c. Herod and all his bands do set me light Who teach all hands to warre fingers to fight And onely am the Lord of hosts and might Was ever grief c. Herod in judgement sits while I do stand 〈◊〉 mines me with a censorious hand 〈◊〉 m obey who all things else command Was ever grief c. Tâ—e Iews accuse me with despitefulnesse Aâ—d vying malice with my gentlenesse 〈◊〉 k quarrels with their onely happinesse Was ever grief c. I answer nothing but with patience prove â—â—stonie hearts will melt with gentle love 〈◊〉 t who does hawk at eagles with a dove Was ever grief c. My silence rather doth augment their crie My dove doth back into my bosome flie Because the raging waters still are high Was ever grief like 〈◊〉 Heark how they crie aloud still Crucifie It is not fit he live a day they crie Who cannot live lesse then eternally Was ever grief c. Pilate a stranger holdeth off but they Mine own deare people cry Away away With noises confused frighting the day Was ever grief c. Yet still they shout and crie and stop their eares Putting my life among their sinnes and fears And therefore wish my bloud on them and theirs Was ever grief c. See how spite cankers things These words aright Used and wished are the whole worlds light But hony is their gall brightnesse their night Was ever grief c. They choose a murderer and all agree In him to do themselves a courtesie For it was their own cause who killed me Was ever grief c. And a seditious murderer he was But I the Prince of peace peace that doth passe All understanding more then heav'n doth glasse Was ever grief c. Why Cesar is their onely King not I He clave the stonie rock when they were drie But surely not their hearts as I well trie Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 ow they scourge me yet my tendernesse 〈◊〉 les each lash and yet their bitternesse 〈◊〉 es up my grief to a mysteriousnesse Was ever grief like mine They buffet me and box me as they list Who grasp the earth and heaven with my fist And never yet whom I would punish miss'd Was ever grief c. Behâ—ld they spit on me in scornfull wise Who by my spittle gave the blinde man eies Leâ—â—ing his blindnesse to mine enemies Was ever grief c. My face they cover though it be divine 〈◊〉 Moses face was vailed so is mine Lest on their double-dark souls either shine Was ever grief c. Serâ—â—nts and abjects flout me they are wittie 〈◊〉 prophesie who strikes thee is their dittie So they in me denie themselves all pitie Was ever grief c. And now I am deliver'd unto death Which each one cals for so with utmost breath That he before me well nigh suffereth Was ever grief c. Wâ—â—p not deare friends since I for both have wept Wâ—en all my tears were bloud the while you slept Yâ—â—r tears for your own fortunes should be kept Was ever grief c. The souldiers lead me to the common hall Tâ—ere they deride me they abuse me all 〈◊〉 for twelve heav'nly legions I could call Was ever grief c. Then with a scarlet robe they me aray Which shews my bloud to be the onely way And cordiall left to repair mans decay Was ever grief like mine Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear Though I my vine planted and watred there Was ever grief c. So sits the earths great curse in Adams fall Upon my head so I remove it all From th' earth unto my brows and bear the thrall Was ever grief c. Then with the reed they gave to me before They strike my head the rock from whence all 〈◊〉 Of heav'nly blessings issue evermore Was ever grief c. They bow their knees to me and cry Hail king What ever scoffes or scornfulnesse can bring I am the floore the sink where they it fling Was ever grief c. Yet since mans scepters are as frail as reeds And thorny all their crowns bloudie their weeds I who am Truth turn into truth their deeds Was ever grief c. The souldiers also spit upon that face Which Angels did desire to have the grace And Prophets once to see but found no place Was ever grief c. Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout Who Crucifie him crie with one strong shout God holds his peace at man and man cries out Was ever grief c. â—â—ey leade me in once more and putting then â—he own clothes on they leade me out agen â—â—om devils flie thus is he toss'd of men Was ever grief like mine â—â—d now wearie of sport glad to ingrosse 〈◊〉 spite in one counting my life their losse â—â—ey carrie me to my most
and giving light But since those pipes of gold which brought That cordiall water to our ground Were cut and martyr'd by the fault Of those who did themselves through their side wound Thou shutt'st the doore and keep'st within Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink And if the braves of conqu'ring sinne Did not excite thee we should wholly sink Lord though we change thou art the same The same sweet God of love and light Restore this day for thy great name Unto his ancient and miraculous right ¶ Grace MY stock lies dead and no increase Doth my dull husbandrie improve O let thy graces without cease Drop from above If still the sunne should hide his face Thy house would but a dungeon prove Thy works nights captives O let grace Drop from above The dew doth ev'ry morning fall And shall the dew out-strip thy dove The dew for which grasse cannot call Drop from above Death is still working like a mole And digs my grave at each remove Let grace work too and on my soul Drop from above Sinne is still hammering my heart Unto a hardnesse void of love Let suppling grace to crosse his art Drop from above 〈◊〉 come for thou dost know the way â—r if to me thou wilt not move â—emove me where I need not say Drop from above ¶ Praise TO write a verse or two is all the praise That I can raise Mend my estate in any wayes Thou shalt have more 〈◊〉 go to Church help me to wings and I Will thither flie Or if I mount unto the skie I will do more â—an is all weaknesse there is no such thing As Prince or King His arm is short yet with a sling He may do more â—n herb destill'd and drunk may dwell next doore On the same floore To a brave soul Exalt the poore They can do more O raise me then poore bees that work all day Sting my delay Who have a work as well as they And much much more ¶ Affliction KIll me not ev'ry day â—hou Lord of life since thy one death for me Is more then all my deaths can be Though I in broken pay â—ie over each houre of Methusalems stay If all mens tears were let Into one common sewer sea and brine What were they all compar'd to thiâ—â— Wherein if they were set They would discolour thy most bloudy sweat Thou art my grief alone Thou Lord conceal it not and as thou art All my delight so all my smart Thy crosse took up in one By way of imprest all my future mone ¶ Mattens I Cannot ope mine eyes But thou art ready there to catch My morning-soul and sacrifice Then we must needs for that day make a match My God what is a heart Silver or gold or precious stone Or starre or rainbow or a part Of all these things or all of them in one My God what is a heart That thou shouldst it so eye and wooe Powring upon it all thy art As if that thou hadst nothing els to do Indeed mans whole estate Amounts and richly to serve thee He did not heav'n and earth create Yet studies them not him by whom they be Teach me thy love to know That this new light which now I see May both the work and workman show Then by a sunne-beam I will climbe to thee ¶ Sinne. O That I could a sinne once see We paint the devil foul yet he Hath some good in him all agree Sinne is flat opposite to th' Almighty seeing â—t wants the good of vertue and of being But God more care of us hath had If apparitions make us sad By sight of sinne we should grow mad Yet as in sleep we see foul death and live So devils are our sinnes in perspective ¶ Even-song BLest be the God of love Who gave me eyes and light and power this day Both to be busie and to play But much more blest be God above Who gave me sight alone Which to himself he did denie For when he sees my waies I dy But I have got his sonne and he hath none What have I brought thee home For this thy love have I discharg'd the debt Which this dayes favour did beget I ranne but all I brought was â—ome Thy diet care and cost Do end in bubbles balls of winde Of winde to thee whom I have crost But balls of wilde-fire to my troubled minde Yet still thou goest on And now with darknesse closest wearie eyes Saying to man It doth suffice Henceforth repose your work is done Thus in thy Ebony box Thou dost inclose us till the day Put our amendment in our way And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks I muse which shows more love The day or night that is the gale this th'harbour That is the walk and this the arbour Or that the garden this the grove My God thou art all love Not one poore minute scapes thy breast But brings a favour from above And in this love more then in bed I rest ¶ Church-monuments WHile that my soul repairs to her devotion Here I intombe my flesh that it betimes May take acquaintance of this heap of dust To which the blast of deaths incessant motion Fed with the exhalation of our crimes Drives all at last Therefore I gladly trust My bodie to this school that it may learn To spell his elements and finde his birth Written in dustie heraldrie and lines Which dissolution sure doth best discern Comparing dust with dust and earth with earth These laugh at Ieat and Marble put for signes â—o sever the good fellowship of dust â—nd spoil the meeting What shall point out them â—hen they shall bow and kneel and fall down flat â—o kisse those heaps which now they have in trust â—eare flesh while I do pray learn here thy stemme â—nd true descent that when thou shalt grow fat â—nd wanton in thy cravings thou mayst know â—hat flesh is but the glasse which holds the dust That measures all our time which also shall â—e crumbled into dust Mark here below â—ow tame these ashes are how free from lust That thou mayst fit thy self against thy fall ¶ Church-musick SWeetest of sweets I thank you when displeasure Did through my bodie wound my minde You took me thence and in your house of pleasure A daintie lodging me assign'd Now I in you without a bodie move Rising and falling with your wings We both together sweetly live and love Yet say sometimes God help poore Kings Comfort ' I le die for if you poste from me Sure I shall do so and much more But if I travell in your companie You know the way to heavens doore ¶ Church-lock and key I Know it is my sinne which locks thine eares And bindes thy hands Out-crying my requests drowning my tears Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands But as cold hands are angrie with the fire And mend it still So I do lay the want of my desire Not on my sinnes or coldnesse but thy will
Yet heare O God onely for his blouds sake Which pleads for me For though sinnes plead too yet like stones they maâ—â— His blouds sweet current much more loud to be ¶ The Church-floore MArk you the floore that square speckled stonâ— Which looks so firm and strong Is Patience And th' other black and grave wherewith each one Is checker'd all along Humilitie The gentle rising which on either hand Leads to the Quire above Is Confidence But the sweet cement which in one sure band Ties the whole frame is Love And Charitie Hither sometimes Sinne steals and stains The marbles neat and curious veins But all is cleansed when the marble weeps Sometimes Death puffing at the doore Blows all the dust about the floore But while he thinks to spoil the room he sweeps Blest be the Architect whose art Could build so strong in a weak heart ¶ The Windows LOrd how can man preach thy eternall word He is a brittle crazie glasse â—et in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place To be a window through thy grace But when thou dost anneal in glasse thy storie Making thy life to shine within The holy Preachers then the light and glorie More rev'rend grows more doth wine Which else shows watrish bleak thin Doctrine and life colours and light in one When they combine and mingle bring A strong regard and aw but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing And in the eare not conscience ring ¶ Trinitie Sunday LOrd who hast form'd me out of mud And hast redeem'd me through thy bloud And sanctifi'd me to do good Purge all my sinnes done heretofore For I confesse my heavie score And I will strive to sinne no more Enrich my heart mouth hands in me With faith with hope with charitie That I may runne rise rest with thee ¶ Content PEace mutt'ring thoughts and do not grudge to keep Within the walls of your own breast Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep Can on anothers hardly rest Gad not abroad at ev'ry quest and call Of an untrained hope or passion To court each place or fortune that doth fall Is wantonnesse in contemplation Mark how the fire in flints doth quiet lie Content and warm t' it self alone But when it would appeare to others eye Without a knock it never shone Give me the pliant minde whose gentle measure Complies and suits with all estates Which can let loose to a crown and yet with pleasure Take up within a cloisters gates This soul doth span the world and hang content From either pole unto the centre Where in each room of the well-furnisht tent He lies warm and without adventure The brags of life are but a nine dayes wonder And after death the fumes that spring From private bodies make as big a thunder As those which rise from a huge King Onely thy Chronicle is lost and yet Better by worms be all once spent Then to have hellish moths still gnaw and fret Thy name in books which may not rent When all thy deeds whose brunt thou feel'st alone Are chaw'd by others pens and tongue â—nd as their wit is their digestion Thy nourisht fame is weak or strong Then cease discoursing soul till thine own ground Do not thy self or friends importune He that by seeking hath himself once found Hath euer found a happie fortune ¶ The Quidditie MY God a verse is not a crown No point of honour or gay suit No hawk or banquet or renown Nor a good sword nor yet a lute It cannot vault or dance or play It never was in France or Spain Nor can it entertain the day With a great stable or demain It is no office art or news Nor the Exchange or busie Hall But it is that which while I use I am with thee and Most take all ¶ Humilitie I Saw the Vertues sitting hand in hand In sev'rall ranks upon an azure throne Where all the beasts and fowls by their command Presented tokens of submission Humilitie who sat the lowest there To execute their call When by the beasts the presents tendred were Gave them about to all The angrie Lion did present his paw Which by consent was giv'n to Mansuetude The fearfull Hare her eares which by their law Humilitie did reach to Fortitude The jealous Turkie brought his corall-chain That went to Temperance On Justice was bestow'd the Foxes brain Kill'd in the way by chance At length the Crow bringing the Peacocks plume For he would not as they beheld the grace Of that brave gift each one began to fume And challenge it as proper to his place Till they fell out which when the beasts espied They leapt upon the throne And if the Fox had liv'd to rule their side They had depos'd each one Humilitie who held the plume at this Did weep so fast that the tears trickling down Spoil'd all the train then saying Here it is For which ye wrangle made them turn their frown Against the beasts so joyntly bandying They drive them soon away And then amerc'd them double gifts to bring At the next Session-day ¶ Frailtie LOrd in my silence how do I despise What upon trust Is styled honour riches or fair eyes But is fair dust I surname them guilded clay Deare earth fine grasse or hay In all I think my foot doth ever tread Upon their head â—â—t when I view abroad both Regiments The worlds and thine â—â—ine clad with simplenesse and sad events The other fine Full of glorie and gay weeds Brave language braver deeds â—hat which was dust before doth quickly rise And prick mine eyes 〈◊〉 brook not this lest if what even now My foot did tread â—ffront those joyes wherewith thou didst endow And long since wed My poore soul ev'n sick of love It may a Babel prove Commodious to conquer heav'n and thee Planted in me ¶ Constancie WHo is the honest man He that doth still and strongly good pursue To God his neighbour and himself most true Whom neither force nor fawning can Unpinne or wrench from giving all their due Whose honestie is not So loose or easie that a ruffling winde Can blow away or glittering look it blinde Who rides his sure and even trot While the world now rides by now lags behinde Who when great trials come Nor seeks nor shunnes them but doth calmly stay Till he the thing and the example weigh All being brought into a summe What place or person calls for he doth pay Whom none can work or wooe To use in any thing a trick or sleight For above all things he abhorres deceit His words and works and fashion too All of a piece and all are cleare and straight Who never melts or thaws At close tentations when the day is done His goodnesse sets not but in dark can runne The sunne to others writeth laws And is their vertue Vertue is his Sunne Who when he is to treat With sick folks women those whom passions sway Allows for that and
keeps his constant way Whom others faults do not defeat But though men fail him yet his part doth play Whom nothing can procure When the wide world runnes bias from his will To writhe his limbes and share not mend the ill This is the Mark-man safe and sure Who still is right and prayes to be so still ¶ Affliction MY heart did heave and there came forth O God By that I knew that thou wast in the grief To guide and govern it to my relief Making a scepter of the rod Hadst thou not had thy part Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart 〈◊〉 since thy breath gave me both life and shape â—ou knowst my tallies and when there 's assign'd 〈◊〉 much breath to a sigh what 's then behinde Or if some yeares with it escape The sigh then onely is â—ale to bring me sooner to my blisse â—y life on earth was grief and thou art still â—nstant unto it making it to be â—â—oint of honour now to grieve in me And in thy members suffer ill They who lament one crosse Thou dying dayly praise thee to thy losse ¶ The Starre BRight spark shot from a brighter place Where beams surround my Saviours face Canst thou be any where So well as there â—et if thou wilt from thence depart Take a bad lodging in my heart For thou canst make a debter And make it better First with thy fire-work burn to dust Folly and worse then folly lust Then with thy light refine And make it shine â—o disengag'd from sinne and sicknesse Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse That it may hang and move After thy love Then with our trinitie of light Motion and heat let 's take our flight Unto the place where thou Before didst bow Get me a standing there and place Among the beams which crown the face Of him who dy'd to part Sinne and my heart That so among the rest I may Glitter and curle and winde as they That winding is their fashion Of adoration Sure thou wilt joy by gaining me To flie home like a laden bee Unto that hive of beams And garland-streams ¶ Sunday O Day most calm most bright The fruit of this the next worlds bud Th' indorsement of supreme delight Writ by a friend and with his bloud The couch of time cares balm and bay The week were dark but for thy light Thy torch doth show the way The other dayes and thou â—â—ke up one man whose face thou art â—ocking at heaven with thy brow â—â—e worky-daies are the back-part â—he burden of the week lies there â—aking the whole to stoup and bow Till thy release appeare Man had straight forward gone â—o endlesse death but thou dost pull â—nd turn us round to look on one â—hom if we were not very dull â—e could not choose but look on still â—ince there is no place so alone The which he doth not fill Sundaies the pillars are On which heav'ns palace arched lies The other dayes fill up the spare And hollow room with vanities They are the fruitfull beds and borders In Gods rich garden that is bare Which parts their ranks and orders The Sundaies of mans life Thredded together on times string Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternall glorious King On Sunday heavens gate stands ope Blessings are plentifull and rife More plentifull then hope This day my Saviour rose And did inclose this light for his That as each beast his manger knows Man might not of his fodder misse Christ hath took in this piece of ground And made a garden there for those Who want herbs for their wound The rest of our Creation Our great Redeemer did remove With the same shake which at his passion Did th' earth and all things with it move As Samson bore the doores away Christs hands though nail'd wrought our salvation And did unhinge that day The brightnesse of that day We sullied by our foul offence Wherefore that robe we cast away Having a new at his expence Whose drops of bloud paid the full price That was requir'd to make us gay And fit for Paradise Thou art a day of mirth And where the week-dayes trail on ground Thy flight is higher as thy birth O let me take thee at the bound Leaping with thee from sev'n to sev'n Till that we both being toss'd from earth Flie hand in hand to heav'n ¶ Avarice MOney thou bane of blisse sourse of wo Whence com'st thou that thou art so fresh and fine 〈◊〉 know thy parentage is base and low 〈…〉 poore and dirtie in a mine â—urely â—â—ou didst so little contribute To this great kingdome which thou now hast got That he was fain when thou wert destitute â—o digge thee out of thy dark cave and grot â—hen forcing thee by fire he made thee bright Nay thou hâ—st got the face of man for we Have with out stamp and seal transferr'd our right Thou art the man and man but drosse to thee Man calleth thee his wealth who made thee rich And while he digs out thee falls in the ditch Anagram MARY ARMY HOw well her name an Army doth present In whom the Lord of hosts did pitch his tent ¶ To all Angels and Saints OH glorious spirits who after all your bands See the smooth face of God without a frown Or strict commands Where ev'ry one is king and hath his crown If not upon his head yet in his hands Not out of envie or maliciousnesse Do I forbear to crave your speciall aid I would addresse My vows to thee most gladly blessed Maid And Mother of my God in my distresse Thou art the holy mine whence came the gold The great restorative for all decay In young and old Thou art the cabinet where the jewell lay Chiefly to thee would I my soul unfold But now alas I dare not for our King Whom we do all joyntly adore and praise Bids no such thing And where his pleasure no injunction layes 'T is your own case ye never move a wing All worship is prerogative and a flower Of his rich crown from whom lyes no appeal At the last houre Therefore we dare not from his garland steal To make a posie for inferiour power Although then others court you if ye know What 's done on earth we shall not fare the worse Who do not so Since we are ever ready to disburse If any one our Masters hand can show ¶ Employment HE that is weary let him sit My soul would stirre And trade in courtesies and wit Quitting the furre To cold complexions needing it 〈◊〉 is noâ—â—â—rre but a quick coal Of mortall fire 〈◊〉 blows it not nor doth controll A faint desire 〈◊〉 his own ashes choke his soul. â—â—en th' elements did for place contest With him whose will â—â—â—dain'd the highest to be best The earth sat still â—â—d by the others is opprest â—â—fe is a businesse not good cheer Ever in warres â—â—e sunne still shineth there or here Whereas the starres â—atch an advantage to appeare