in Arts fairest Founts thy Feathers wash to flye to him that Heau'n and Earth adores Thy Raptures else are but such Rauishments as are reproachfull penall lewde and light But Raptures farre aboue the Elements doe shew thy Vertue in the fairest â—light O then thou great vnlimitable Muse that rests in motion in th'ETERNALS Breast Inspire my Muse with grace her pow'r to vse in nought but what to thee shall be addrest So shall that Spirit that made thy Dauid sing Make Dauies too a Begger like a King THE MVSES SACRIFICE A Confession of sinnes with petition for grace O Trinall Vnion God creating Gods O sole resistles all-effecting Pow'r When wilt attone twixt mee and thee the ods Till when eternall I account each how'r I am O Lord thy Creature re-created Made marr'd re-made by Loue by Sinne by Grace Shall Loue and Grace by Sinne be so defeated That Loue should lose her labor Grace her place Thou art the Salue and I the mortall Sore Yet with one touch thy vertue can reuiue me To heale this Sore a Speare thy heart did gore Kinde Pelican that thy Bloud might relieue me Thy Hands that form'd reform'd and me conform'd Were to a Crosse transfixed for my sake To help my hatefull hands that sinne inorm'd Then can those helping Hands their Cure forsake Thy Head was crown'd with Thorny Diadem To cure mine crown'd with Sinnes sweet-pricking Roses Thy body ah did bloud water streame To wash away Sinnes soile which mine encloses Thy Feete was crosse-wise nailed to a Crosse To heale mine swolne with running into vice On thy saire Skin whips did my Crimes engrosse So freedst thou me from them with bloudy price Then can such Loue now leaue the thing it lou'd Is Sinne so sowre to turne sweete Loue to Hate To dye for Sinne it thee alone behou'd And yet shall Sinne thy Deaths desert abate O God forbid sith Sinne and Death and Hell Thou on the Crosse didst conquer throgh thy death And by the pow'r thereof their pow'r didst quell To lowest deepes and it restrain'd beneath Besides thou saist but Truth what canst thou say A Gulph is set the two Extreames betweene Twixt Heauen and Hell no entercourses may By meanes thereof at any time be seene I am in Heauen for in thy glorious Wounds By Faith I hide me from Sinne Death and Hell If Sathan for my plague would breake his bounds Those Gulphes of grace to stay will him compell Then keep me in thy Wounds my soules sole heau'n From whence if out-cast I to Hell must fall Where out-cast-like of Hope shall be bereau'n If reft of Hope then reft of Help withall But help me Lord else hopelesse shall I be Thy help the hopefull neuer faild at need Then sith my hope of help alone 's in thee Let speedy help my ready hope succeed Vpon thine Hand thine hand hath writ my Name Then reade thy Hand and saue me by the same A Sinners acknowledgement of his Vilenesse and Mutabilitie SPare me deare Lord my daies as nothing be Consum'd in Sin then which is nothing worse Yet Sinne is nothing yet can well agree With nothing but thy vengeance and thy curse Yet is it that without which none can liue Sprong from our Proto-parents rootes of strife Linckt to that Curse that Life a crosse doth giue not crosse of Life but crosse in Booke of Life Then happy that that Life yet neuer had Life that still subiect is to such a crosse And haplesse I that liue in life so bad Where life is found with lifes eternall losse Ah what am I but slime durt dounge and dust Graue-monsteâ—s food Wormes pittance most impure Sprong froÌ„ the earth vnto earth that must How where or when I sure am most vnsure Abortiue Brat of damn'd Concupiscence Hels heire Heau'ns hate eternall food for Fire A Gulph of griefe and Sincke of foule offence Scum of vaine Pride and froth of damn'd Desire Copesmate of Beasts and to a Beast transform'd A Dungeon darke a loathsome Lumpe of Earth Fardle of filth prodigious foule deform'd Dishonours vassaile cursed childe of Wrath Patterne of Vice and Mould of Vanitie Made of the Molde that marres what ere it makes Errors misse-maze where lost is Veritie Or blinded so that still wrong course it takes A Bramble Bryer an vse-lesse barren Plant A Dogge a Hogge a Viper most vnkinde A Rocke of wracke dry Well of eu'ry Want A Weather-cocke more wau'ring then the winde A thing of naught a naughtie thing that marres What Goodnesse makes a damn'd incarnate Deuill Contentions Source Loues hate still causing iarres A banefull weede and Roote of eu'ry euill What shall I say A Map of miserie Confusions Chaos Frailties Spectacle The Worlds disease Times vgliâ—â—â— Prodigie Th' abuse of Men and Sh 〈…〉 â—btectacle Mortall and to a Bubble suteable Whose slesh as Flowres whose life as Houres consumes Of matter made more then most mutable Yet sure of certaine death of life presumes Fraile life which more it lasts the sooner worne The longer drawne the shorter is the date Hedg'd in with cares as with an Hedge of Thorne Whose piercing prickes the minde doe vulnerate If merry now anone with woe I weepe If lustie now forth-with am water-weake If now aliue anone am buried deepe That houre that glads the heart the heart doth breake One while I laugh another while I lowre Now ioy in Griefe and then in Ioy I grieue Now wake in Care then sleepe I straight secure Now I dispaire then Hope doth me relieue Now sigh for sinne then sinne so sigh in vaine Now minde I Heau'n then Earth excogitate Now fast and pray then feast and prate againe Now labours end then labours renouate Now am I loose then lose I libertie Now sound then sicke now vp then downe I fall Now am I safe and then in ieopardie Now ouerco 〈…〉 then put to the wall Now I discourse then mute againe I muse Now seek the World then search I for thy Waies Now am abus'd and then I doe abuse Now hate then loue now praise then straight dispraise Now This I long for by and by for That This now delights me then with that am cloid Now would haue this and then I wot not what And thus with This and That am still annoid To count the count-lesse vaine varieties Wherewith this mortall life surrounded is Or to recite our vaines in vanities I may as of the Starres the reck'ning misse All that this earthy Boowle on breast doth beare Is subiect most to most vnconstant state One moment makes as if they neuer were And eu'ry minute drawes them to their date The heate the cold the hunger thirst and all The miseries that life fraile life annoy Which swarming hide this Globe terrestriall No Tongue can tell thogh all their pow'rs employ Death seconds these if not the second Death Who with his fatall Fanne sweepes all away At All saith he whose nostrils bound their breath Thus carelesly at All with All
doth play One dyes with Sicknesse Thought another kils With Hunger this with Thirst that man doth pine Some Water choakes an Halter others spils Some Fire consumes some Beasts deuoure in fine This man he murders with the ruthlesse Sword That man with Poyson he doth suffocate With Bullet this that with a bitter Word He ends and others end with worser Fate No Flesh though fram'd in height of Natures skill With composition more then halfe diuine But it is subiect made to death vntill Th' Immortall doe that mortall flesh refine Thus all he ends yet none their ends fore-know A secret t' is to Death himselfe vnknowne Whom he must strike thy finger Lord must show Nor dares he shoot til thou the Mark hast showne To some he is thy mercies Minister To other some the Engine of thy wrath This sadnesse to my Soule doth minister For bleeding Conscience many faintings hath But wash the same with thy sweet mercies dewe And it annoint with vnction spirituall Then health and rest and peace shall straight ensue Which to my Conscience will be cordiall I haue discourst to thine all-hearing Eares My dismall plight in dolefull Elegie With Tragick accents accents causing teares Sad teares attending matchlesse misery Thy pitties Eare therefore bowe downe O Lord To these most pensiue and most iust complaints Let mercies Eyes with pitties Eares accord To chear the conscience that with bleeding faints In hope were of my soule shall rest in peace Till thou vouchsafe to send her full release A Confession of a Sinner acknowledging the misery of humane frailtie CElestiall Lord Creator of this ALL Embracer Prop and Ruler of the same Whose vnseene Eye beholds the generall And singly seest at once this double Frame O vaile that Christall-cleere all-seeing eye On vtter-darknesse that Lord that am I. Mine Intellect is darke darke my soules sight My body darke darke dungeon of my soule Is opposite for darknesse to thy light What can be darker or more vgly foule Thus darknesse striuing much more darke to be Hell being too light infus'd it selfe in me O Iustice Sunne with Taper pointed beames Dart through this Darknesse open loopes for light By which the influence of thy lights leames Through my darke soule may be dispersed quight For what is that which extreame darknes cleares But extreame light of lights when it appeares Where extreame darknesse harbours there is Hell In me deare Lord of Heauen that hell is plac't My heart hard hart wherein all horrors dwell With vexing thoughts like Fiends away doth wast My Conscience quite confounded with my misse Is lowest Hell where highest Anguish is Descend sweet Christ and harrow with thy Crosse This hell of Conscience flee my soule from thence It is thine owne deare Lord it is thy losse If it doe perish through my sinnes offence Why sinne is nothing then for thing of nought Lose not my soule poore purchase dearly boght In Deaths dark shade o'er-shadowed with my sinne Vpon the black pit brinck of deepe Despaire I lye deare Lord halfe out but more halfe in Help help ô help Lord heare Lord heare my prayer Now now ô now if euer help me now I sincke I sincke help ere I sincke too low Remember Lord Lord call to minde againe The drops strange drops of Water mixt with Bloud Which from thy paine-prest Body ranne amaine What time on ground it lay in pensiue moode If then thou praid'st that Cup might passe froÌ„ thee I well may pray let this Cup passe from mee A Cup of cares confected by sowre sinne Baning my Soule with bitter operation Let this Cup passe before I doe beginne Least it effect my crazed soules damnation O thou that felt'st fraile mans infirmitie Respect fraile Me else in despaire I die Whose Faith too like a feather in the winde Is tossed with the least temptations blast With doubtings daunted when the faithfull finde A calme in conscience till such stormes are past But I vile wretch am tossed to and fro With eu'ry Storme that rise or Blast that blow See Lord ah see see see how all my Veynes Do pant with paine through sense of my misdeedes Behold my Heart wherein all sorrow raignes Griefe-wounded heart behold it how it bleedes O poure therein thy precious Balmes of grace That from thy wounded Heart doe runne apace Where 's Much forgiu'n Loue must there be much Forgiue me Much much more shall be my loueâ— I haue Much to forgiue no sinner such My Sinne surmounting Loue shall be aboue Forgiue me then and I in Loue will striue To match that more then Much thou dost forgiue Be thou for me vnto the Old of dayes My Daysman so to stay his angers heate That for thy sake he would vouchsafe to raise His vengeance siege which my Soules wrack doth threat O tel him to his Grace I weakling yeeld And giue him praise and glory of the Field O pray him bend his pu'sance on the proud Whose brazen Necks will rather breake then bowe I creeping on my knees doe seeke for shrowde Till Tempests of his fury ouer-blow And like a Spaniell at his Maisters threat In humble wise fall prostrate at his feete With eyes vp-lifted slowly by degrees And lifted so are throwne downe straight againe With face confounded on his humbled knees Inuoking mercy yet doth mute remaine O so euen so doe I poore wretched I At foote but of his Foote-stoole crowching lye If this may moue and mouing may prouoke Thy sans-beginning Sire in Loue to stay Of his iust vengeance the resistlesse stroke A touch whereof doth Rockes to poâ—der bray I will ascribe the praise ô Christ to thee Sith for thy sake alone he spareth me My strength 's not stony nor my flesh yet brasse O no then weaknesse much more weake it is Apt still to fall more brittle farre then glasse Compos'd of that that 's more then most amisse O how vnable then am I to beare His heauy vengeance stroke that rocks doth teare With hands of Mercie stay my sincking Soule Which were in mercy mercilesly wounded For me vile wretch and for my trespasse foule That Grace might o'er abound where Sin abounded They are not shortned since they racked were For Sinne that Sinne might sinnelesse so appeare With those same hands deare Lord my Soule sustain Opprest with Poâ—se that made thy man-hood grone My load 's as great though farre lesse be my paine Whose sinne 's as great as all the worlds alone Then Worlds of Sin when on my backe I beare What meruell is 't I faint if not despaire Froth of Infirmitie and Weaknesse skumme I am no other how then should I beare The heauy sentence of true Iustice doome If to this Load of Sinne it added were None but a God and Man can beare that waight Sith God Man bow'd vnder-neath that fraight I am farre spent ô be not farre from me I panting labour neere the latest gaspe My Soule dismai'd not knowing where to flee With hands of Hope wan
too good made me too bad For they made me too proud and too too bold The rage of Lyons Tygers and the like Is lenified with gifts and turn'd to loue But with thy gifts to grieue thee I did seeke Yet still thou mad'st me their increase to proue Thou Man becam'st to make a God of mee at least a God that Heau'n and Earth doe serue And I became a Diuell in Deed to Thee that wrong'd thee more the more thou didst deserue High'st Iustice shining through thy Passions Cloud could not enforce me it to loue or dread Thou had'st no hole wherein thy head to shroud but all this All 's too little for my head Though thou art God Foes Fists thy face enorme if any touch my Coate I touch them home By word and deed that yet am but a Worme thou striu'st for lowest I for highest Roome Thou wouldst be slaine to slaughter Sinne in me but by thy death I life-inspir'd the same So thy great Mercy made me martyr Thee and with the Iewes I made thy griefes my game The Med'cine so thou gau'st to cure my Wounds I venomed to make my hurt the more Which both with Sinne shame my Soule confounds sith Sinne by Grace I made more sinfull sore If from the Law to take a cause to sinne is much more damn'd then sinne without the Law What is it then when Grace so vs'd hath bin and force to fight with Grace from grace to draw The wilde-fire of my Passions burned me my Thoughts Distractions did me quite deuide The Worme of Conscience rag'd where thou wouldst be yet these I did as one in thee abide For mine Affections cryed nought but Peace when those Affections most did Peace impunge And when I was in Hell they seem'd in ease so much the old misled Affections young And Fury-like towards hel I alwayes made but thou more wayes then all wayes broughtst me back The Trade of Vertue I held Vices Trade sith more then Vice she seem'd to liue in lacke How oft haue I beene at the gates of Hell and could not enter though I went about Thou didst the Diuell from his charge compell so Porter wast thy selfe to keepe me out Nay when I haue beene euen in his Iawes and that his Fangs were entring in my Soule Till thou didst pul me thence thou mad'st him pause so came I as from Heau'n as Meeke as Whole O! how can I such pow'rfull Grace requite that forceth Iustice with Her force to ioyne From wracke to saue me in mine owne despight and made restore who did my selfe purloyne Had I the liues of Angels and of Men and offer'd all to thee in sacrifice And if those liues were thrice resum'd agen and offer'd vp as oft t' would not suffice T' would not suffice to recompâ—â—ce thy loue it were too cheape to quite tâ—y deare deserâ— O then can I wretch so vngratefull proue as not to giue thee one poore wretched Heart Can I ô can I be so much besides Grace Faith Sense Mother-wit my selfe and all That hauing yet these gifts to be my guides doe yet but stand by these by these to fall If I be lost it must not be in Hell thogh ne'er so dark for there thou foundst me out It must be somewhere which no where can tell for where that is both Time and Place doe doubt It cannot be in Hell for thou art there then Heau'ns thy Seat ah would I there were lost Nay not in Place for thou art eu'ry where Then not in Time which ere It was thou knowst If then in Heau'n nor Hell in Time nor Place where then in my selfe lost I cannot be Yet lost I am if I doe lose thy grace which found me when I stole my selfe from thee But yet if needes I will be lost at last for grace at last saues none against their will No Lost-child euer was lockt halfe so fast from losing and deserueth halfe so ill The worst of Ill mâ—â—e worse with Ill made Whole is too too good for one made worse then That Too little he doth lose to lose his Soule that maugre grace still does he cares not what Therefore deare Lord let me not enter in this strict reuisall of my Sinne and grace The lesse to make excusable my Sinne but thereby more much more thy Loue embrace For these Confessions written by my Hand against my selfe against my selfe will goe To thy Tribunall and against me stand if now I doe not euer Sinne forgoe Then let thy Wâ—unds be once more opened deare Christ to wash me in thy reeking bloud Reuiue me by thy death that being dead still dead to Ill I may still liue to good O! iuycie Bunch of Soule-refreshing grapes hard pressed in the Wine-presse of the Crosse Make druncke my thirstie Soule that gasping gapes for thy pure bloud to purge mine being too grosse Mine Ire Pride Lust Presumption Hate and Scorne yea all my Sinnes which I can ne'er recite I cast into thy wounds which wide are torne O keepe them There then from thy Fathers sight As much as those confound these comfort me nay more much more sith more thou canst forgiue Then I can sinne although I quartred Thee if when the deed is done through grace I grieue Mellefluous Sea of Comforts most diuine Meridian Light whence springs true glories Day With both o'er whelme me till through both I shine in perfect glory by thy glories Ray. Let not my Deedes or inofficious Sloth doe or omit what should not or be done For both are cursed by thy blessed mouth sith Ill to doe and good omit is one But let this league be constant to the end For they but mend to marre that marre to mend And Wisedome at our wisedome doth but scoffe When we doe ill that good may come thereof The sighes of a Pensiue Soule groaning vnder the burden of sinne WHo art thou Lord thou Lord whose magnitude admits no Name and what or who am I That dare but thinke of such an Altitude farre past the reach of highest Angels Eye What am I but a Sacke of sickenesses Immodestie it selfe Dust Clay Durt Dung Slyme Food for Wormes lesse slymie Carkasses with filth much more vncleanly mixt among Meere gall of bitternesse true Heyre of Hell begot twixt Sinne and Sathan life of Death Rebellion in the abstract Vices Shell the breath of Sinne that baneth but with breath Gods griefe Mens plague and Angels sole annoy sith sad I make them by vncessant sinne Let to the sorrow which doth cause their Ioy sith mine example hinders some therein In Counsaile blinde in Actions most vnwise In thought vnstaid vnconstant in desire Then Nothing lesse yet great in mine owne Eyes for past my selfe my selfe would faine aspire In summe I am the totall summe of Ill ill in my flesh and euill in my sp'rit Worse in my Wit and worser in my Will this Lord is hee thou would'st to thee vnite But what and who art thou thou namelesse GREAT sith
Which tho most glorious both thou mad'st of noght and if thou would'st a thought againe would spill Help Lord for I am in a groundlesse DEEPE or endlesse Maze that hath no comming out My Wits from drowning and distraction keepe and let me goe no more this Gulph about For he that goes about to tell with Words what one thou art doth eu'n as if he would Quite drowne the Sea within the shallow'st Foords nay more sith thou art much more manifold Who ere assisted thee or thee aduis'd who brought thee vp in Lore or gaue thee Wit And who thy Pow'r at any time surpris'd or what Foe was not dasht to Dust by It With whom the Sea seemes scarse a Water-drop the Islands and maine Lands a little Dust The highest Heau'n is but thy Foot-stooles Top and but into a Pricke thou Earth dost thrust The Woods of Libanus cannot suffice to make Religious Altars fume to Thee Nor all the Beasts can serue for Sacrifice that on a thousand thousand Mountaines be All Nations nay all Creatures whatsoe'er be they Celestiall or Terrestriall Stand in thy sight as if they Nothing were and in respect of thee are not at all For if in the bright presence of the Sunne the Stars seeme not to be although they are Then in thy sight must All to nothing runne sith in the same the Sunne cannot appeare Therefore with all created Essences ô holy blest and glorious TRINITIE I doe adore with all obseruances the Scepter of thy dread Diuinitie Thy Being's vniuersall most exact then being such what should my homage be And being Grace and Goodnesse most abstract how can I wanting both serenize thee Agnizing then the Wonders of thy Worth prostrate before thy sacred Mercies seate With whatsoe'er Loues feare can vtter forth I more then celebrate thy glory great With those thrice blessed Spirits who laying downe their Crownes of Glory at thy sacred Feete Prostrate adore thee loe I vaile the Crowne of all my Glory to thee blessed SWEET My Glory Lord alas what doe I giue if I haue any it is more than vaine Then maist thou not that Gift of me receiue sith it must needes thy sacred Glory staine Returne It then deare Lord my gift put backe and I will giue thee what thou gau'st to me That 's Loue and Feare thou dost no Glory lacke yet if thou giue it mee I le giue it thee But not to vs deare Lord ô not to vs but to thy gracious NAME all glory giue Which was and is and shall be glorious as long as God is God or LIFE doth liue But vnto vs Confusion onely's due for Flesh and Bloud hath nought to glory in But that which may decayed shame renue a bleeding Conscience and a world of Sinne But why doth Sol giue Light the Fire giue Heate why's Water cold Earth thicke or Aire so thinne The reason 's cleare by kinde they doe that feate so thou by kinde kinde Lord forgiuest Sinne. Where Sin abounds there Grace doth oe'er-abound for t is thy glory God Sinnes to forgiue For should'st thou Sinners with the Sinne confound then none should liue so none should glory giue For in the nether Hell they praise thee not sith t is the Hold of hedious Blasphemy There is the Land where all things are forgot saue sad Despaire and Death which cannot dye But in thine euer-blessed Hierarchy the holy holy holy Lord of Hoasts In Soule-inchanting Heauenly Harmony is euer heard through those Celestiall Coasts Then make me such that in the Life of grace I temp'raâ—â—ly may glorifie thy Name And in the Life of glory face to face I may for euer much more doe the same Consume the cloudy Fancies of my Minde with sacred flames of thine eternall Loue That being by that purging fire refinde thou maist if on thy Trials Touch approue Then let thy Glories zeale quite eate me vp that all my Being may consist therein So I le carowse thy bitter Passions Cup sith to my Health kinde Lord thou didst begin O let my life poore life nought else appeare but a sweet-smelling Sacrifice to thee Or rather let it be an Offring here that with thy Loues fire may consumed be Then metamorphose me into thy Loue let me be quite transmuted to the same That I may euer vpwards flaming moue as doth by Nature a materiall flame O! bottomlesse Abysse of Charitie engulph me in thy Bowels let thy Wombe Receiue Sinnes seede that longs for sanctitie Then let it still lie buryed in this Tombe That so I may quite dead to Sinne and Shame Still liue in LOVE to loue and praise thy NAME A Repetition of Gods many Benefits and Preseruations with desire of the continuance thereof VPon the bended knees of my poore Sp'rit made poor by thy rich Mercies showr'd theron Thy Vertue I adore with all my might ô diuine VERTVE Israels Holy ONE Sith thou of thy vnlimitable grace hast deign'd to make me know thy grace and pow'r Nay show'd to me the splendor of thy face which doth my loue much more then much allure For giuing me my Being being nought before and since and since for mending me Though yet deare Lord I am not as I ought yet as I am I am most bound to thee For that thou dost conserue me in such case that as a liuely Member I doe feele Thy liuely Members dolor or disgrace and sinck in Soule when they neere falling reele For that thou dost my Natures essence keepe from running to the wracke of grace and nature And of a Wolfe for making me a Sheepe and of a Cast-away a costly Creature A costly Creature I right well may say sith it thy Heart-bloud cost to make me such Euen then when I was worse then cast away for I was damn'd before I knew so much By thee I am in sinfull state preseru'd from sinfull state which stands where Sin doth raign By thee I am from prides contrect conseru'd that faine would take out of thy hand thy raigne If I doe fall it 's when Thou stai'st me not if I doe rise it 's by thy helping Hand But I ne'er fall but when I haue forgot that by thy Rod and Staffe I rise and stand As many good thoughts as my heart ere held he held in Capite of Thee his Head If well my little-World I ere did weild I did it with thy Pow'r but in thy stead If none can say Lord Iesu but by Thee much lesse without thee thee can any serue No more then Boughs yeeld Fruit cut from the tree then what we worke for Lord thou dost deserue Therefore if I haue fasted watcht or praid if I haue Crosses borne with Backe vnbroke If I haue shed Contritions Teares vnstaid or crost my Will or vp thy Crosse haue tooke If in my prayers I haue thought on Thee or that they haue preuail'd or I relieu'd Or if my Will to Vertue hath beene free all these as gifts from Thee I haue receiu'd How many vertuous
that should make me loue thee more I made the wrest to rend my loue from thee So both with mine and others gifts did gore the Giuers heart erst split for loue of me And if I made as seldome so I did a Cou'nant with mine Eye that it should gaze No more on Beauty yet the more forbid the more thereby it glanc'd on Beauties Blaze Alas how brutish haue I bin the while that like a Beast haue swayed beene by sense And made my Reason obey Affections vile repugnant to mine owne Intelligence O life dead life depriu'd of life of grace how stirr'st thou so without that vitall pow'r Thou art too proud and yet too beastly base at highest height but like a fading Flowre O Lord of life a death it is to mee to minde my life so drown'd in deadly sinne Which though it Be and moue and liue in Thee yet as without thee it hath cursâ—d bin For I haue made no scruple to offend but with such boldnesse haue I sinn'd as it Had beene a meane but to a blessed end so seem'd to sinne with Will enforc'd by Wit Nay should I bring my best deeds to thy Test they 'le proue but drosse of mâ—eâ—e Hyâ—ocrisie Or Vice in Vertues habit at the best which is too bad for basâ—st Pietie With Iacobs voyce and Esaus hands I held my Soule to sinne and good opinion too The wicked so the World at will doe weild which faine I would but that I cannot doe The World 's t'vnweildy for my feeble gripe it still fals from me sith I cannot hold And at each fall thou giu'st me Lord a stripe sith though I cannot weild it yet I would Yea would much rather then my wilde affects or ought that holy men doe take in hand For my best doings my iust doubt suspects sith they in doubt of doing ill doe stand How tedious Time hath seem'd when I haue praid how wearisome the practise tir'd how soone How much distracted and how well apaid when it was done though done ere well begunne So was I like but one of Pilates Slaues that croucht to thee ô Christ but to offend So my best actions are but holy braues that haue more shew then strength to foile the Feend Haue I done good to any if I haue t' was but of debt and though it were but lent I prizde it more and bragd of what I gaue so all my good was done with ill intent Haue I discours'd of things that heauenly were In curious Questions lightly it was done As where Heau'n stands and Hell it locall where not how to come to Heau'n and Hell to shunne I haue beene prompt to learne what Wisedome would abhorre to teach and I haue Eares and Eyes To heare and see but what she scornes t' vnfold for I attend to nothing that is wise What shall I say that haue so much to say for endlesle plaint holds endlesse Sinne in chase My first was filth my progresse Sinne my stay is double death without Gods treble grace O Sinne the Soules death and of Death the life I would not shunne thee when at first I might And now I cannot without endlesse strife then help me Grace with strong sinne still to fight My Soule is tir'd with vanitie and Sinne I loath to liue and yet I feare to dye Then wretch what should I doe but now beginne to dye to liue sith liuing-death is nye But ah alas could I weepe endlesly it were but meete mine endlesse sinnes to cleare But though I should lament them ceaselesly in longest mortall life too short it were Yet will I not dispaire no God forbid seau'n times a day the iustest men doe fall And though from men the fall and bruise be hid yet thou dost see them both who seest All. At all houres no man's wise for sober Noah may be oe'er-come with Wine stout Abraham too Through terror lye Meeke Moses may destroy th' Egyptian in his ire and so misdo Religious Ioseph irreligiously sweare by the life of Pharaoh faith to binde Gods Darling Dauid hide Adultery with murther of his Seruant true as kinde Wise Salomon the veriest Foole became when Pharos Daughter and his Pagan wiues Through grosse Idolatrie made him defame Gods truth so Blots the clear'st haue in their liues Saints so are call'd as eu'ry thing is nam'd of whatsoe'er therein most worthy is As Golden-mines are stiled so though fram'd more full of Drosse then Golden rarities And so the best men though inherent Vice may ouer-weigh their Vertue yet we see Th' are called vertuous by their Vertues price that doth out-price the Vice though more it be Then giue me courage Lord t' aduance my Hope to thy great mercy that doth equall thee And let All couerd with the Heau'nly Cope for thy deare Loue be but as Doung to mee Vaine pleasures packe Preferments-vaine auaunt that would but make me quite forget to dye My Soule ye Syrens doe no more enchaunt for if you doe I le breake your strongest Tye. And all my ioy shall now but be in griefe griefe for the Ioy which I conceiu'd in sinne So nought but dying shall be my reliefe for life well lost immortall life doth winne Lord giue me strength to offer violence to wicked Custome till I breake it quite And still to striue with Nature Sinne and Sense vntill they striue no more in Peace nor fight And for my Sinnes come all annoyâ—s on me in royall-armies till you blow me vp Aboue the â—unne and all dispights that be fall freâ—ly on me from my Sauiours Cup. Scorne me proud World still looke on me ascance deride me Diuell plague me doe thy worst Nay Lord from me conceale thy Countenance so thou in fine wilt blesse me so accurst And for I haue despis'd thee Lord of All let all that Is despise me till I dye Nay let disgrace with death vpon me fall so I may rise to grace and life thereby O thou my cursed Nature swolne with Pride swell not against contempt though ne'er so vile Take all and more if more can be beside contempt of all and ioy therein the while For being nothing of my selfe but Sinne or else besides that But I Nothing am How can or sinne or Nothing Glory winne but through a World of woe contempt and shame Skill will and pow'r then giue me Lord to breake this head-strong Iade my Flesh and make it glad To beare a World of woe to make it meeke and but for falling vnder it be sad I am thy Workâ— then worke thy Will in mee And make my Carriage Lord from fallingâ—ree â—ree That the vertuous haue the Promises of this life as well as of that to come THy Friends deare Lord are too much honored thy Persecutor to thee reconcil'd Had Sacrifices to him tendered so much the World is forc'd t' adore thy Childe The People freely their possessions sell to lay the Price at thine Apâ—stles feete To whom the worst of Ils doe fall out well and Gall
nothing more then sinne Lord help me in this strange extremitie of crosse desires which in my Soule are found My Will is bound to Sinne but would be free then if it would how should my Will be bound Were it my Flesh alone desir'd to sinne my Soule resisting t' were not so amisse Such crosse desires in thy best Saints haue bin but in my Soule my Sinne conceiued is And yet shee 's barraine gauly and impure of emptinesse not emptie and thereby A soulelesse Soule so lifelesse doth endure yet liues in Death because she cannot dye Then empt mine empty Soule for Sinne doth fill with nought but vacuum her capatious thought For Sinne is nothing sith thou mad'st not Ill without whom nought was made then empt this nought For t is that Law though nought that still rebels against both grace and natures Gouernment This lawlesse Law my members still compels to bowe as Sinnes vnrighteous Rule is bent Lord I beleeue yet help mine vnbeliefe and well doe will yet better my desire Cure thou the Wound my Will receiu'd in chiefe through Adams Fall and make our Wils entire Giue me both Will and Pow'r to doe thy Will and let me neither haue to crosse the same For when I see my Will would thine fulfill yet doth it not I pine with griefe and shame I cannot will aright but right resist without thy grace preuent my crooked will And willing well without thy grace assist I cannot for my bloud my will fulfill So thy preuenting and assisting grace makes my Will worke for of my selfe I am So fraile by nature and so beastly base that my best thoghts are more then much too blame Then let thy Grace my wayward Will preuent and helpe me to performe it so preuented Yea make my thoughts and deedes most innocent else let me ioy in nought but them lamented Nay make my Heart deare Lord so apt to waile That it may weepe when I to weepe doe faile The Sinner desireth not to be as he is but as he ought to be TO be all nought is nought at all to be and to be sinfull still is to be nought Yet Sinners ARE though dead in sinne we see as Men ARE though they are not as thy ought Deliuer me deare Lord from being such such being take from me that sinfull is For better nothing be then be so much because so much is more then most amisse Then let me be not as I am but what I ought to Be or take me as I am Take me to Thee and then I will be that I ought to be thine owne in Deed and Name For then I am when I am wholy thine But I am not while I am Sinnes or Mine In respect of the breuitie and vncertaintie of mortall life the Sinner desires grace in time to prepare for Death MY stupid Soule now recollect thy pow'rs weigh in Iudgements Scales thy present state Thou in thy Iaile my Flesh but some few howres hast now to stay by nature neere her date My Pilgrimage is almost past ô then it thee behooues to looke with stedfast eyes Towards thy Countrey Home of Happy-men least ere thou looke in straying pathes thou dye Now faints my force my sense impaires my flesh like wither'd fruit now falleth with each breath Some Birds o'er-aged doe their youth refresh but Man growne Twâ—-childe is at doore of death The Young-man may dye quickely but the Olde can not liue long misse-haps may wracke the one But nought in Arte or Nature long can hold the other here for they are almost gone Then if green yeers should somtimes mind the graue the Gray must still that there are with a breath For Age to Death is but the Gally-slaue that on a moments fluxe whafts life to death To serue the World although I able were small cause haue I to will it sith it is The ground which nought but ranckest Ils doth beare and where men most esteemed are most amisse I long haue cultur'd this but flinty-field which yeelds but Crops of Cares Woes wrongs and spight Yeelding the more annoy the more they yeeld whose very Ioyes are Tares that pine the Spright Then it is time to change by heauenly Arte the thriftlesse course of so course Husbandry And with Remorse to furrow vp my Heart melting the Clods with teares that are too dry And so to sow Loues seedes that faire encrease to fat the Soule in vertue till shee melt In flames of Charitie till Faith doth cease to giue more taste of heauenly pleasures selt And sith my Spring is spent my Summer past and to the Fall of leafe my Tyme arriues Nay sith his frost Time on my Head hath cast I must prepare for cold that life depriues My negligence hath made sinnes Earth my Heart to yeeld but poysonous Weeds of thoughts impure Which doe but bane my Soule and get the start of Vertue in their growth by Customes pow'r Meane while my flesh with heat of youth bloud hath shrunke from cherishing their root yet lo The Marrow of my Bones doth yeeld them foode so thogh I shrink they through that compost grow And as one tost at Sea with Stormes and feares makes little way though much he be turmoild So he in vice that past hath many yeeres hath had long time but life as short as soild For Life is measur'd by the good we doe not dayes we spend sith some by many dayes Get many Deaths as some haue come vnto Eternall Life by short Life spent with praise What is a Soulelesse Body but a Clod and what 's the Soule without her cause and life But quicke to Sinne and dead to Grace and God Hell to it selfe selfe-selfe-Hell or Hell of strife He is the Way besides which all are wide the Truth against which all in errour dwell The Life without which all in death abide in whom to be is onely to be well O then deare Lord let me beginne to liue now in my dying though hard late it be Yet better late then neuer to reuiue me dead in sinne by mortifying me It 's hard I grant that after life's neere spent in mortall Sinne immortall life t' expect Yet Lord how euer late let me repent while Aire I breathe and doe it not reiect Yet Loue must cause remorse and hate of Sinne for true contrition which true life dorh giue Is caus'd by Loue sith we so bad haue beene t' a God so good that di'd to make vs liue Then loue my Soule for no ends but thine END By-purposes are purposelesse for ONE That knowes all Hearts Remorse doth but offend that is not for his Loue conceiu'd alone Then to be truely contrite hard it is sith it respects but Loue that Grace allures Whereof in but a scruple if we misse it 's but Attrition which lesse Grace procures O Death how sowre is thy rememberance to him whose Soule is swolne with sweetest Sinne And hath thereof a feeling I perchance haue so in shew but more
sp'rit But let my sp'rit how e'er I dye deare Lord Wade through thy deepest Iudgements on thy Word The Sinner acknowledges and admires his owne frailtie desiring Grace and strength to stand in Vâ—rtue and with-stand Vice AFfliction still lyes heauie on my Soule which makes her stupid dry and dull to pray Then Lord vnlesse thou doe her pow'r controule she needes must sinke to Hell beneath her sway O Sinne that with high Hand dost hurle so low thou art sole Cause of his so bad Effect Thou NOTHING that dost all things ouerthrow not staid by Grace why dost me thus deiect O had I beene abortiue and dead borne or if not so the Font had rest my breath Then had I made a quicke and safe returne that now must passe in perill to my death I can but sinne then Iustice can but scourge so Sinne and Scourges wheeling o'er me goe Yea Sinne being quiet I it oft doe vrge so on me with it pull a World of woe Lord what am I that am so rarely fraile that can doe nothing that is sinne I can For Sinne is Nothing yet it doth preuaile against me Something that is marres a Man When I doe minde the strange Austeritie familiar with some reclus'd from this life The watching praying fasting charitie the fights with Flesh with Sinne the endlesse strife I am amaz'd with wonder grieu'd with shame nay waighing theirs with mine my conscience bleeds To see the ods ô fie I am to blame to call it ods sith it all ods exceedes For white and blacke doe farre lesse disagree then theirs and mine mine being lighty darke Theirs darkly light and lights the darke to see notorious I for sinne they Saints of marke So that I am confounded but to minde the ods surmounting ods betweene the two For in my selfe with Pride all ill I finde in them all good and yet most humble too Then sith Comparisons are but too blame betweene things so repugnant for they doe But shew the ods vnto the worsers shame I will forbeare and beare the blemish too For all reproch though infinite it were comes short of endlesse sinne in foule offence Then may I well that All as nothing beare which Centers but my sinnes Circumference For weake as frailtie is my strongest force in fight with vices and in ghostly warres At best no better then a liuing Corse and that the Vrne that but my Soule interres I fight but faint the first Incounter trying yet oft by standing on my strength too much I quite am foil'd that might haue foil'd by flying such is my rashnesse and my weakenesse such If I o'er come as seldome so I doe my spirit growes proud and confident withall So this farre worse then that doth me vndoe for spirituall pride still takes the lowest fall But when I fall thy help Lord I inuoke to raise me rais'd I fall to worser ill So seeme but leaue to craue though it I cloke but still to fall and to be raised still But to thee knower of all thoughts it 's knowne such Boones are sinnes that beg but leaue to sinne My Boones no better be for being downe I craue to rise by Grace to fall therein And though my Prayers aime at no such end yet in the end sith I but rise and fall It seemes I did but by the same entend to make my selfe thy Mercies Racket-ball Which falling hardest highest doth rebound but to doe ill that good thereof might rise Is Ill so ill as may the Soule confound then all that good in Soule-confounding lies To sinne of purpose but to make vs meeke augments the fault for t is presumptuous Sinne And who by Error Heau'nly Truth shall seeke shall lose her quite and Hell with Error winne Then Lord of Truth when I haue tane a fall let me desire to rise to fall no more So though thou bandy me from wall to wall yet keepe me vp at least with beating sore And if by weakenesse I shall sometimes slippe so stay me then that downe I fall not quite Let me at most if so at least but trippe then take the faster footing through thy might So shall I praise that Pow'r that stayes me so And euer ouercome an Ouerthrow THE DOLEFVLL DOVE OR Dauids 7. Penitentiall Psalmes somewhere paraphrastically turned into Verse Domine ne in furore Psal. 6. When Dauid by his sinnes had prouoked Gods wrath and now felt not onely his hand against him but also conceiueth the horrors of death euerlasting he desireth fornesse bewailing that if God tooke him away in his indignation he shall lacke occasion to praise him as hee was wont to doe whiles he was among men Then sodainely feeling Gods mercie he sharply rebuketh his enemies which reioyced in his affliction IN thy iust rage deare Lord reproue me not for iust it is sith so vniust I am Nor chasten me when thy fierce Wrath is hot lest I should be extinguisht yer the Flame Let thy strong Grace against my Weaknesse stand thy Grace so strong as it vpholdeth All And heale me Lord with thine all-helping Hand for eu'n my bones are bruised with my fall My Soule 's afflicted more then griefes afflict for griefes but pine but this doth quite vndoe Then Lord how long shall I a poore Relict endure these plagues that paine and pine me too O turne thy now auerted Face to mee to me that fades as flowres for want of Sunne And let my Soule be safe and sau'd by thee through Grace that hath to thee most glory wonne For Deaths fell torments are so violent that they constraine the Sense to minde but them Who then in Hell through hellish discontent can once but minde thee in such paines extreame My sorrow hath my Soule so ouer-fed that it conuerts mine Eyes to founts of Teares For eu'ry night in teares I rince my Bed and drowne my Couch in streames of griefes feares Mine Eyes are so o'ercast with clouds of Cares that they see nought but through those Water-streames My beauty 's gone while I away do weare among my Foes and these confus'd extreames But yet I feele thy Grace Lord worke with me then leaue me leaue me yee too idle Crue That yet still worke but worke iniquitie for God hath seene my Teares and heard me rue You are my Foes that yet would seeme my friends but Foe-like friends and all mine enemies God will cut off by diuers fearefull ends and soone confound you and your Trecheries To God the Father Sonne and Holy Ghost three Persons and one God all glory be As it was is and shall be in each Coast thoughout all worlds in all eternitie Beati quorum Psal. 32. Dauid punished with grieuous sicknesse for his sins counteth them blessed to whom God doth not impute their transgressions And after that he had confessed his sins and obtained pardon he exhorteth the wicked men to liue godly and the good to reioyce MOst blest are they how euer curst they be whose Crimes out of
procures the Fathers loue and grace and so gets glory by such gracelesse scarres So God desirous more to haue vs kinde than comely Children thrusts vs in his Warres As we were but to fire and sword assign'd He takes more pleasure in the great'st annoyes We haue for him then in our ghostly ioyes Each Danger for our Mistresse vnder-tane seemes most secure and pleasant deadli'st paine The Wounds both for from her though but bane seeme honied-sweet and losse for her is gaine The colours that she likes we most doe loue her words meere Oracles her spot no staine Her actions Patternes ours to shape and proue All her perfections past Superlatiues And imperfections least Diminutiues And shall we doe and thinke all this and more but for a shade of Beautie and endure Nothing for Beauties Substance nor adore the CREATOR but in the Creäture O! t is a shame that Reas'n should be so mad in men of minde for loue if it be true Will most affect what 's rarest to be had The Obiect of true Loue is greatest GOOD If lesse she loues it ill is vnderstood With our Soules Eye if Christ our peace be view'd true loue shall see a Soule-afflicting sight His head with bloud that thornes do broach imbrude his Eares with Blasphemies his Eyes with Spight His Mouth with gall his Members all with wounds his Heart with griefe and all in all vnright Yea so vnright as Iustice quite confounds Yet mans Ingratitude doth griue him more Then all these Plagues as manifold as sore And ô for whom doth he the same endure for Man begot in filth in darkenesse form'd With throwes brought forth brought forth most vnpure whose child-hood's but a dreame with pains enorm'd His youth but rage his man-hood ceaselesse fight his Age meere sicknesse all his life vnsure And worst of all his death is full of fright This this is he for whom Heau'ns God endures All shame and paine that paine and shame procures W' are no where safe where we may fall to sinne in Heau'n nor Paradise with men much lesse In Heau'n fell Angels Paradise within the first man fell throgh whom all men transgresse In the World Iudas from his Lord did fall so no place can defend from Wretchednesse But he that place confines and holds vp All For who from worse to better fals he may From better fall to worse without his stay If Crosses trauerse not our Comforts then we ought to crosse our selues as many did That were Men Angel-like or Gods with men who hardly liu'd in Dens and Deserts hid Fed little and slept lesse in Sacke-cloth clad to minde them that to mourne they here were bid So chose foâ—d place and suite as suites the sad To sing in Babilon being Abrahams Seede Is to forget our Bondage and our Creede Heau'n is our natiue Home our Canaan Earth's but the shade of Death or vale of Teares Then mirth in place of moaue but kils a man at point of Death hee 's mad that Musicke neares Therefore those Saints discreete sad â—obâ—r Soules reiected all that Sense to Life endeâ—râ—s And liue as buried quicke in â—aues likâ— Moâ—es Iâ— Weapons lâ—sâ—e doe wâ—und thâ—n sâ—arpeâ—t praise Lesâ—e huâ—ts lamenting then the Syrens â—ayes And as Men longing at Noone-day to see the Lamps of Heau'n descend into a Well As deepe as darke that so their sight may be the more contracted smallest Stars to tell So pious mâ—n that faine would fixe their Eyes still on the Stars the Saints in Heauen that dwell Descend in Earth to low'st Obscurities For to a louing Soule all labour 's sweet That tends although in Hell her Loue to meet Low is our Way but our Home most sublime if home we wouâ—d thâ—n this low Way is best Which yet growes steepe â—omewhere and hard to climbe yet Loue o'ercomes it eternall Rest Vaine pleasures are like Gold throwne in our Way and while to gather it we stoupe at least It let 's vs and our Iudgements doth betray But if on Heau'n our mindes be altogether Nothing shall let our Bodyes going thither Which way goe you saith Christ to those that stray I am the WAY and whither will you wend I am the TRVTH or else where will you stay I am the LIFE that is your Iournyes end Now if this Way doe lead o'er steepes and plaines If this Truth teach vs rising to descend If this Life be not got but with our paines Then wo to them that laugh sith weepe should al And blessed they that weepe for laugh they shall We should be therefore like th' Egytian Dogs that drinke of Nilus running lest they should By staying much to drinke like greedy Hogs the Crocodile might haue them so in hold Nature doth teach them reas'nlesse what to doe then shall not grace worke much more manifold With humane Creatures that diuine are too It should then we are mad or reason lacke to quench our thirst of hauing with our wracke What is 't to haue much more than Nature needes but to haue more then Nature well can beare Like one that 's deadly drunke or ouer-feedes whose excesse makes his Death excessiue cheare Enough then should be better then a feast sith more is mortall howsoeuer deare For Nature cannot well so much digest Much lesse then little onely makes her grutch Enough maintaines her better than too much Besides in vs Sinne is more odious growne then in the Diuell for his was but one sinne Ours numberlesse his yer Reuenge was knowne ours when we knew it and might fauor winne In Innocence created sinned he but we when to 't we had restored bin In malice he of God forsooke but we when GOD recall'd vs to his sauing Grace He damn'd we sau'd yet were in worser Case For we were sau'd in possibilitie but he condemn'd so could not saued be He sinn'd gainst one that him did straitly tye but we worse fâ—ends gainst one that made vs free Against one he that doom'd him second-death but we gainst one that dide for vs so he Sinn'd lesse than we which Hope quite banisheth Did not the time we liue in stirre vs thrals To call for Grace that comes if griefe but cals He that of Sinne doth know the large extent and Hell of Hels the Soule incurres thereby Shall little feele his Bodyes punishment though he in life a thousand dâ—athes should dye Which borne with Patience for his Sauiours loue quite abrogate his pass'd impietie And future sinnes and paines from him doth shoue Immortall paines extreame in qualitie Annihilate all mortals quantitie Our Faith in the beginning thinne was sowne in the afflicti'on shame and death of Christ And then with Martyrs Bloud t' was ouer-flowne nor can it grow or prosper to the high'st Without showres ceaslesse gushing from their wounds then what art thou that soone thy Faith deni'st For feare of death that but thy Iudge confounds O! I am he the frail'st of flesh and bloud That liues for ill and
carelesse spend their breath for all that watch for him he doth reward With endlesse Life the rest with double death But they that dye for Vertue or good note Though he o'er-throw them yet they cut his throate And why should his worst looke more irke or feare a Man resolu'd that he can dye but once Goliah bought a little Stone as deare as Sampson did the House that chrusht his bones And from a Chaire to fall the Necke can breake as well as falling high as Thunder-stones And all is but one Death bee â—t strong or weake Deaths sharpest sting the Heart but enters in Which dyes with that and so t' will with a pinne Why grudge we then t' endure for endlesse life that for vaine-glory freely we endure Repine we not to dye in damned strife and grudge to dye to make our life secure Is Death so sweete when it the Diu'll commands and when God wils it is the same to sow'r What manhood 's this whereon now manhood stands O ougly valor if it valor be To flee to death yet fearing life to flee Liue well and so dye well perhaps we may but liue still and not dye we neuer can Life is not short that soone goes well away and longest life Truth calleth but a spanne He dyeth old though young that well doth die and Life well lost is better then ill wanne For so to winne we lose eternally Then what can counteruaile eternall losse Nothing that is no Patience beares that crosse If we for vertue doe our life forgoe our Pitcher's broken o'er the fountaine-head From whence what fill'd it came and where doth flow the Aqua vitae that reuiues the dead Our liquor is not lost but runne into the proper Fount by Nature thither lead And heau'nly Grace assisting Nature too Our life 's a war where patience guards from losse Our Captaine Christ our Standard is his Crosse But seemes God long thy labours to content the more forborne the more will be thy meede He takes on Intrest what before he lent and takes delight t'o'er-guerdon each good-deed If in our Vs'ry then we wish delay feare we the Lord of All should fall to neede That on his Bond we dare not giue him Day And shall we trust a Merchant that may breake More than that King of whom all Kings do seeke Admit thou should'st be rackt to straine the Truth though Racks are made the truth to gaine not strain Yet if thou her beleeue let ne'er thy mouth deny it for the cracking of a veyne We owe so much to Truth as should we pay the reall debt to vs should nought remaine No not our liues which must for her away For God and Truth are Relatiues Not so For God is Truth then for him All must goe If Truth-pretending Turkes or Infidels should on our Plagues which we for her endure Triumph and make our Paines so many Hels alas poore Soules they so doe but procure Their owne perdition for that God we serue is God of vengeance and the same will poure On Good-pretenders that so ill deserue To be for truth reprocht yea pâ—agu'd or slaine Is to be glorious free from Death and paine The red-hot It'n into the Water throwne thunders therein as if it did it harme Yet so the force of burning's ouer-throwne the while the Water cold before is warme Like Thundrings Tyrants vse in eu'ry Age who though against the Truth themselues they arme And with the bloud of Martyrs quench their Rage Yet all their triumph 's nothing but the noise Of their owne quenching and the Martyrs Ioyes Then if they shew vs Honors Gold or Iemmes t' intice vs to their Faith they shall but shew The Lion Chaffe which chasing he contemnes and if with Torments then they vs pursue The Salamander they but threat with fire which makes her rather to reioyce then rue So that the worst they can doe we desire Then through the Red-sea of our bloud thus shed Vnto Heau'ns Holy-Land we soon'st are led Saints on the Earth resemble Babes dead borne that are no sooner borne but borne they be Vnto their graues so straight to Ashes turne but Tyrants Viper-like doe liue to â—ee Their own Confusion and the death of those which they haue martyr'd so from death made free And manumiz'd from this Worlds mortall woes The first are borne to dye to liue in ioy The last to liue to dye in all annoy When Theeues an house doe breake to rob by night sith t is a Worke of darknesse first they will That they may not be knowne put out the light and so the good are handled by the ill Lights of the World the Good are said to be but bad-men Sonnes of darknesse put out still Those lights lest men their darkest deedes should see For all that euill doe the Light doe lothe So loue they darknesse and doe darkly both Vnto the light it 's no reproch at all though Bats and Owles abhorre it nor is it Disgrace to Wisedome if but Ideots shall condemne the same for Polly they want Wit To iudge of Wisedome which is too too bright for men to looke on that in darknesse sit To iudge of coulors blinde-men haue no light The fault 's not in the coulors they are so But in their Eyes that can no coulors know Farre sweeter are the Teares of them that mourne then is their laughter that in mirth are lost All crosses by the vertuous so are borne that most they ioy in that which grieueth most Like Roses mong the Thornes their pleasures are most sweete when as they are most sharply crost And being at the worst they best doe fare But put the least crosse on a sensuall Soule And t wil blaspheming grudge nay cry houle The greater Oxe the yokes worst part doth beare that is the heauiest Christ that is thy God Thy yokes most heauy part with thee doth weare that so thou maist with him the lighter plod Through thicke and thinne for him thou canst not do that he did for thee hee feeles the Rod Yet he doth all in vs and for vs too Mates in afflictions make Affliction lesse Then if Christ beare with vs nought can oppresse This life is but a lye true life 's not here it seemes but is not so it is not true Than for a lie or what doth false appeare let vs not lie to God or breake our vow We made in Baptisme but to cleaue to him although for it it might perhaps ensue That we to him in our owne Bloud should swimme That water 's strong it will not let vs sincke And to engrosse sure Deedes the onely Inckâ— The life of Dauid was but Teares and moane but Salomonâ— was ioy and Mirth through-out Yet Dauid sure is sau'd but Salomon whether he be or no Beleeuers doubt Poore Lazarus liu'd here in dying-plight Diues in all that reueld with the Rowt Of honied Pleasures and extreame delight But he that liu'd in death in ioy now liues And he
The MVSES Sacrifice TO THE MOST NOBLE and no lesse deseruedly-renowned Ladyes as well Darlings as Patronesses of the Muses LVCY Countesse of Bedford MARY Countesse-Dowager of Pembrooke and ELIZABETH Lady Cary Wife of Sr. Henry Cary Glories of Women THE Muses sacrifice I consecrate They vnto Heau'n I to you heau'nly THREE They my poore Heart I my Loues rich Estate together with my Rimes that rarer be But what can be more rare than richest Loue sith so rich Loue is now so rarely found Yes measur'd-words that out of measure moue the Soule to Heau'n from Hel that 's most profound A vexed Soule for Follies that betray the Soule to Death some call the nether Hell Thence moue my Measures and doe make such way that they all Lets to giue way doe compell These Rarities which my poore Soule confines her treble Zeale to you three Graces brings For Grace as glorious as the Sunne that shines as bright as chearefull on inferiour Things Such Grace you haue by Vertue and by Fate as makes you Three the Glory of these Times The MVSES Darlings and their Chaires of STATE Shapers and Soules of all Soule-charming Rimes BEDFORD the beaming-glory of thy HOVSE that makes it Heau'n on Earth thy Worths are such As all our WITS make most miraculous because thy WIT and WORTH doe worke so much For WIT and SP'RIT in Beauties Liuery doe still attend thine all-commanding EYES And in th' Achiuements of thine Ingenie the glosse thereof like Orr on Sable lies The Wombe that bare thee made thy noble Breast abound with Bountie yer thou knew'st thy Fate Where furnisht was that Bountie with the best of Honors Humors giuing Her the Mate For which all Poets Plowes their Pennes doe plow the fertil'st Grounds of ART and in the same Thy still-increasing Praises thicke doe sow to yeeld Aeternitie thy Crop of Fame PEMBROKE a Paragon of Princely PARTS and of that Part that most commends the Muse Great Mistresse of her Greatnesse and the ARTS Phoebus and Fate makes great and glorious A Worke of Art and Grace from Head and Heart that makes a Worke of Wonder thou hast done Where Art seemes Nature Nature seemeth Art and Grace in both makes all out-shine the Sunne So sweet a Descant on so sacred Ground no Time shall cease to sing to Heau'nly Lyres For when the Spheares shall cease their gyring sound the Angels then shall chaunt it in their Quires No Time can vaunt that ere it did produce from femine Perfections so sweet Straines As still shall serue for Men and Angels vse then both past Time shall sing thy Praise Paines My Hand once sought that glorious WORKE to grace and writ in Gold what thou in Incke hadst writ But Gold and highest Art are both too base to Character the glory of thy Wit And didst thou thirst for Fame as all Men doe thou would'st by all meanes let it come to light But though thou cloud it as doth Enuy too yet through both Clouds it shines it is so bright Where bright DESERT fore-goes a spurre is Praise to make it runne to all that glorifies Of such Desert iâ— ought eclipse the Rayes it euer shames FAMES publicke Notaries CARY of whom Minerua stands in feare lest she from her should get ARTS Regencie Of ART so moues the great-all-mouing Spheare that eu'ry Orbe of Science moues thereby Thou mak'st Melpomen proud and my Heart great of such a Pâ—pill who in Buskin fine With Feete of State dost make thy Muse to mete the Scenes of Syracuse and Palestine Art Language yea abstruse and holy Tongues thy Wit and Grace acquir'd thy Fame to raise And still to fill thine owne and others Songs thine with thy Parts and others with thy praise Such neruy Limbes of Art and Straines of Wit Times past ne'er knew the weaker Sexe to haue And Times to come will hardly credit it if thus thou giue thy Workes both Birth and Graue Yee Heau'nly Trinary that swayes the State of ARTS whole Monarchie and WITS Empire Liue long your Likes vnlike to animate for all Times light to blow at your Arts Fire For Time now swels as with some poysonous Weede with Paper-Quelkchose neuer smelt in Scholes So made for Follies Excesse for they feede but fatten not if fatten t is but Fooles What strange Chimeâ—aes Wit nay Folly frames in these much stranger Times weake Wits t' affright Besides themselues for Wits Celestiall Flames now spend much Oyle yet lend but little Light And what they lend is oft as false as small so to small purpose they great Paines doe take But to be scorn'd or curst or loth'd of all that by their false-light foulely doe mistake For to giue Light that leads light Men awry is Light that leades to Darknesse then such Light Were better out than still be in the Eye of Men that so doe lightly runne from RIGHT For while such Light doth shine the Multitude like Moates in Sunne with their Confusion plaies Not weighing o'er their Heads how Errors Cloud the while doth threat t'o'er-whelme them many waies By pouring downe the Haile of hard Conceits gainst God and Goodnesse that doe batter both Or else by saddest Showres of darke Deceits borne as the fickle Winde of Fancy blowth By Lightning that doth still more hurt than good while Errors Thunder-claps make sowre the sweet Yea sweetest drinke of Nature our best Bloud that doth with Melancholy-madnesse meet By all that may at least giue some offence to complete Vertue Wisedome Wit and Art For Ignorance hath oft more Insolence than puffing Knowledge to take Errors part Disease of Times of Mindes Men Arts and Fame vaine Selfe-conceit how dost thou ply the Presse Of People and the Printer with thy shame clad in the Coate of Fustian-foolishnesse For all that but pretend t' haue Art or Wit so trauell with Conceit amisse conceiu'd That till the Presse deliuer them of It their Throwes are such as make them Wit-bereau'd Yet if the Issue of their crazed Braines doe chance though monstrously to comâ— to light Lord how they hugge it like the Ape that straines her young so hard in loue as kils it quite What Piles of Pamphlets and more wordy Bookes now farse the World wherein if Wisdome lookâ— She shall see nothing worthy of her Lookes vnlesse the idle Likenesse of a Booke But WIT 's most wrong'd by priuiledge of Schoole for Learnings Drunkards now so ply the Pot Of Incke I meane Posteritie to foole as shames Wits Name although they touch him not Some that but looke into Diuinitie with their left Eye with their left Hand do write What they obserue to wrong Posteritie that by this Ignis fatuis roame by Night Some search the Corpes of all Philosophie and eu'ry Nerue and Veyne so scrible on That where it should be Truths Anatomie they make it Errors rightest Scheleton Some others on some other Faculties still fondly labour but to be in Print O poore Ambition so their Folly flies abroad the
be all my Dayes Can I loue Life which Truth doth so dispraise A Ship a Shaft a Shuttle were too slow Or whatsoeuer else doth swiftly glide The flight of Time in this short life to show But It as lesse then Nothing must abide Then ah shall lesse then Nothing make me lose Thee Thing of Things that dost each Thing enclose And what a lesse then Nothing is this Life It 's worse then Nought that 's lesser then That Lâ—sse So fraught with Mischiefe Sorrow Sinne and Strife That It like Hell is Hold of Heauinesse For who so hath most ease and rest therein Are most diseas'd most oft with restlesse Sinne. No foote of Ground Earths dismall face containes That is not ouer-laid with treble Snares A Flies foote rests not on It without Paines Besides Deaths danger and a World of cares I speake but speak with griefe what I haue found On Earth then Earth of griefe is but the Ground For scarce is one Temptation ouer-past But in the Neck thereof another comes Like Circles that Stones cause in Waters cast Which chase each other till the last o'er-comes So and none otherwise Temptations striue Which by the spoile of others best shall thriue Nay so each other to succeede were ease More then temptation vseth to admit But while the first endures like swelling Seas Another riseth worse much worse then It Then in temptations Seas with Waues thus driu'n How hard is it t' attaine the Hau'n of Heau'n The treble Snares fore-mention'd three fell Foes Doe lay for me to catch me if they can The Flesh the Diuell and the World are Those Which three still watch to catch me carelesse Man The least of which hath skill exceeding great Then how should I poore Wren their drifts defeate On this side fights my Flesh the World on that The Diuell at my Backe and all as One Doe me assaile nay doe they care not what So I thereby may quite be ouer-throwne And thus like cunning Foes they compasse mee That I may haue no way away to flee I cannot from my Body flee because It is my Clogge and I am tide thereto Nor must I It vndoe for any cause For so vndone I doe my soule vndoe If I doe feede the same my foe I fat That will assault mee much the more for that Then must I needes my Body beare about Though faine I would forsake It knew I how And yet the same is alwayes running out Yet drawes me with 't as Colts doe draw the Plow It tires my Spirit that toiles to keepe it in From being tir'de in running out to sinne Besides th'iniurious World beleaguers me This that and eu'ry way with maine and might And through the Loope-holes of my Senses Hee With my weake Soule continually doth fight Which still thogh faintly fights to keepe out death And oft poore Soule quite shee is out of breath If at those Loopes the World repulse doth take Hee sets his Slaues to watch me in my way That they may through my slippings me o'er-take And so to wound my Fame with sharp Dispraise Or draw mee els before Authority Where I may know what t' is to slip awry But that 's a fauour done against his will Herein his malice mends me makes me watch My sinfull selfe from running into ill Lest that these Fiends should me in euill catch For Lord thou know'st they watch not for my good But how by mischiefe they may suck my bloud If thee I serue they call me Hypocrite If I doe not then Atheist am I nam'd If I giue Almes t is that beg praise I might So doe I good or euill I am blam'd Then this thrice wayward World by his good will Will haue me to be Nothing good nor ill The Diuell is a Spirit which is vnseene Then how should I auoid his mortall Blowes Whose weapons are as long as strong and keene And sendeth flaming Shafts from fiery Bowes The least of which to death my Soule will wound If thou confound them not ere they confound So then these three strong armed Enimies Me ceaselessely assaile to make me fall The Flesh suggesteth to me Luxuries The World obiecteth Sweetes the Diuell Gall And all as most intire conspire in this To make me ill to liue to die amisse The Flesh importunes me with daintie food With Sleepe Sloth Lust and carnall Liberty The World doth moue me to ambitious moode The Diuell to Malice Ire and Treacherie Thus all in seu'rall sort in one agree To pare my Crowne if not to conquer me Behold ô Lord with whom I liue perforce I dwell with Scorpions Vipers and the like Which kill by Nature without all remorce And with their stings they good and bad doe strike O Lord how long how long deare Lord shall I Endure this Death the Life of misery Atheists and Infidels doe neighbour me Beside these foes and with them still doe ioyne To worke my wracke for they still boring be Betwixt thy Spirit and mine them to vnioyne Among the Tents of Kedars thus I dwell Whose In-mates are as Serpent-wise as fell Example more then Precept makes vs good And is there none that doth good no not one Then ah what can liue with this Vipers Brood That is not brought to nought no not a Stone Then I being Flesh how can I hurt auoide By them by whom eu'n Stones are oft annoid In these sore Conflicts if I should retire Into my selfe I finde me fraught within With fleshly worldly diuellish-damn'd desire The three-fold Bastard of these Foes and Sinne. Who will with them conspire to conquer me Then in my selfe I least secure shall be My Heart 's more moueable then Motion is Vnconstant fugitiue vaine light lewd blinde Wandring each way and yet the way doth misle Yet still holds on that Course by course of kinde Agent and Patient t is in Sinne and Shame That both effects and suffers for the same And as a Mill doth grinde what it receiues Els grindes it selfe if nought be throwne thereon So doth the Heart grinde what the same conceiues Else grindes it selfe till it to nought be gone But it by Nature still conceiueth Sinne Then Sinne by Nature still is ground therein But if thy Grace Lord thou therein infuse It grindes the same like flow'r of finest Wheate To make sweet Bread vnleauened to vse When as the Soule doth grinde thee as her meate And as the heart doth grinde the Soule to feede With good or bad so our liues haps succeede Sometimes it grindes but griefes infus'd by Sinne And oft but Dusty thoughts and Earthy cares Thou when such Griefs it grindes pour'st Ioy therin And me for thee by griefes that Ioy prepares Then may I say when so the Mill doth runne I had beene if I had not beene vndone But for the most part it is euer cloid Like an hard Miâ—l-stone with the softest things As fleshly lusts and vaine Ioyes ouer-ioyde And with that harts-case which most torment brings So that my Heart
or else of good depriu'd so both accurst And if my best be nought but cloaked sinne what are my worst but worse than what is worst Not for committing odious sinnes in act but for omitting deedes of Charitie Which Iustice at her Iudgement will exact the Reprobate are damn'd and so may I For t is but halfe the duty of my whole to doe no ill but still I good should doe With all the care and forces of my Soule else ill I may be doom'd and damned too God gaue me life but for his Seruice than I must account how I each moment spend And sinn'd I not yet sith I am a Man that doth no good it 's damned in the end And were my deeds vnited and withall clear'd from pollution and from all defect Yet are they nought to gifts meere corporall which I haue had and yet haue in effect So that too like an idle beast I am that still deuoureth more then he doth earne And lookes for food ere he deserues the same nor doth the giuers gifts from Fates discerne O! out vpon me most vngratefull beast abusing Reason as if I had it not What shall I say deare Lord I must at least confesse I haue thy goodnesse most forgot O! with what Marble Eyes or flintie Front shall I the glory of thy presence brooke Who art both Iudge of me to take account and Witnesse too as witnesse will thy Booke And yet alas lesse pow'r I haue to shunne thy presence then haue heart the same t' abide For thou art all in All then can I runne from thee when thou dost compasse all beside Yet haue I bin but in Ciuilitie more loath t' offend my meanest mortall Friend Then in good Conscience so great maiestie that filleth All and All doth comprehend And haue I shame to say 't more sham'd to sinne in sight of men then in thy dread aspect My Soule is blinde so saw thee not within and mortall Eyes but mortall things respect And for the Graces which thou gau'st to mee to glorifie the Giuer I vile wretch Haue to my selfe the glory tane from thee so with thy gifts I doe thee still impeach I haue not lou'd thee for thy mercy nor haue fear'd thee for thy Iustice yea thy might Though most almighty I did most abhorre when it in Iustice on me wretch did light Thou hast to me reueal'd thy Will but looke how often I haue glost it with mine owne Were it within or else without thy Booke so oft hath thine by mine bin ouerthrowne And if I reckon right betweene thy Law and mine obseruance though I feare thy Rod I must confesse neere Dauids foole I draw that said in Soule at least There is no God I haue obserued nought but what my sense depraued sense being Ill did hold for good Which Ill with all the Stormes of foule Offence still wrought vpon the Current of my Bloud Mine Eyes are sharpe as eager still to pry into mens worst parts rather than their best And wrench that little much that is awry and what 's most right to make it lesse at least Apt to detract from others and exact praise to my selfe from others this is it That makes me enuy eu'ry witty Tract vnlesse it be composed by my Wit As apt most apt to giue as take offence hard to be pleas'd displeas'd too easily As prompt to Choler as to violence but fearing death yet desperate prest to dye In reasoning rash and yet soone rudely round to compasse Faith to falshood soone thereby And where Truth stands to throw her on her ground in beastly rage vntill shee seeme to lye False in Humilitie and true in pride in iesting rough and rash in censuring To gouerne I haue made my Heart too wide t' obey too straite through griefes straite gouerning More then the Mount Vesuuius haue I burn'd in vaine Ambitions euer-raging flame And all good gifts and graces haue I turn'd to Fewell burning in desire of fame Thou gau'st me gifts where of the praise I sought so robb'd thee Lord of glory and with speede I wages seeke for that which thou hast wrought for for thy Workes in me I looke for meede More proud than Lucifer the Fount of Pride for he being glorious mac'e might soone o'erweene But I being bred of but Slime-putrifide vsurpt thy praise so much more proud haue beene Wherein if thou hast crost me I haue storm'd worse than that Hell-hound for he fell to Hell Then easily might fume being so enorm'd but I on Earth at ease against thee swell The lightest pleasures make me lighter doate but easiest paines doe presse me downe to death If Fates but smile in pleasures Seas I floate and if but frowne it eu'n expires my breath I foulest Vices vnder vertuous Names doe patronize as extreame Crueltie For vpright Iustice Loue of lightest Dames for perfect Zeale Selfe-â—oue for Charitie Craft for true Wisedome Pride for Cleanlinesse Basenesse for Meeknesse Doubt for Holy Feare Meere Cowardize for discreet Warinesse Râ—shnâ—sse for Manhood Couetize for Care And so of others in none other sort I vaunt their vice with vertuous tearmes inuolu'd And haue an eye but onely to Report while I but right to seeme am wrong resolu'd All good Instructions fall into my Soule as Aprill-showres into the Sea doe fall Whose swelling surges doe their drops controule and euer turne their sweetnesse into Gall. When I haue beene reprou'd for ought vnright I would deny excuse or it defend Or else reproch my iust reprouers straight and so without offence would faine offend If I haue vow'd deuotion and withall haue taskt my selfe with holy Exercise I soone infring'd it were it ne'er so small so loath'd I Manna Leekes to gurmandize And looke how one that taketh fire in hand but out of hand straight thowes it cannot hold The heate thereof so I doe vnderstand but small effect of Prayer made so cold As Cates vnchewed haue they past from me without concoction not without annoy For when I thinke they went away so free my Soule is sicke with griefe and grieu'd with ioy Thus lose I still my time in going on and comming off from eu'ry good attempt So purpose without prosecution leaues my best actions idle in contempt With but beginnings haue I worne my dayes and oft haue fail'd but in the meere assay Yet for but failing haue I lookt for praise ô shame sith I good motions did obey I likewise haue beene light in my Dsiere now this now that and then the other face Sparkes of thy beauty set my Heart on fire with Beauties grace to sinne for want of grace So could not walke abroad but that anon my wandring sight would giue thy sight offence For eu'ry sparkling Eye mine lighted on through mine straight kindled my Concupiscence For this too oft I haue abus'd the Muse thou gau'st me but to woo thee for thy Loue But I lewde Louer did her Measures vse to mete fraile motions strongly so to moue Thus Beauty
bee 't violent quicke or slow A Saint as Man may seare and faint in death As Christ did dying yer he yeelded Breath Let this Cup passe was Terrours proper voyce yet vtter'd by our Sauiours sacred Tongue Our flesh he tooke annoi'd did make that noise fore-feeling it should be with Torments stunge My God my God why hast forsaken me vnto our Flesh intirely did belong Then may true Martyrs in Death drouping be With sense of pain but God that gaue them strength To stand to him through him preuailes at length For t is not hard when Gods soft comforts cheere our Soule to suffer torments to endure But when such fauours are turn'd all to feare and in distresse of Minde to hold vs sure To God and for him all annoyes to beare that is a Miracle perform'd by Grace Past Natures best performance and is deere Vnto the Doner then who doth the same Goes straight to glory through Afflictions flameâ— For Works of Iustice we should rather doe than those of Grace now Iustice wils that we In Truths defence should dye with torment too though Grace to vs a stranger seeme to be Obedience farre excelleth Sacrifice the first is duty in the high'st degree The other in our Wils Deuotion lies Then courage in our Death is no true Signe Of life else-where without the Cause diuine For through Vaine-glory some in Death haue seem'd as brauely resolute as Saints haue bin Nay oft the first haue beene the better deem'd by outward-sight that seeth nought within Leaena being but a Curtezanâ— tyring her Tortures though she dide for sinne Spat out her Tongue that to accuse beganne And many more of like sure so haue dide Then by braue dy'ing plain Truth 's not iustifide But dye they how they can that dye for Truth they stoutly dye sith they dye willingly But much more they that dye in sportfull youth though Deaths ougliest face may daunt their eye When they behold him yet if they endure that feare and paine which after they must try They stoutly dye though saint be all their pow'r Nay more they doe sith they so little can Flesh is but mire the Minde doth make the Man But see what ends the Tyrants erst haue made that of Gods Saints made ceaselesse Butchery Nero the chiefe that first did them inuade in his owne bloud his murdring hands did dye And while he bled his last he crying said Foulely I liu'd and dye more filthily Thus for his paines in paining he was paide Domitian by his Seruants being slaine For doing like the like reward did gaine Fell Maximinus with his Sonnes was brought to selfe same issue Decius with his Frye Incurr'd the like Valerianus caught by him that swaid the Persian Monarchy Was cag'd in Iron more fast then Lyons are who in the end being flaid dide wretchedly But Dioclesian worst of all did fare For he fell mad â—o made himselfe away While fire from Heau'n his House did leuell lay So of the like in life and their Degrees Iâ— might count many dire and awfull deaths All dranke Gods vengeance Vials to the lees in their bloud o'erwhelm'd they lost their breaths For God vnstings such angry Waspes and Bees sith each their Stings in Saints too often sheathes God burnes his Rods when he hath paid his fees Yet Stings of spight in th' Head of Pow'r with wit Can sting the World to death if Heau'n permit But howsoe'r th' Almighty throwes his Rods into the fire when he his Ire doth cease Yet oft the scurged fall to greater ods with Goodnesse than before The Churches peace Makes her more loose then when shee 's bound to fight vncessantly with foes that her disease For they liue wrong that rest to much in Right Mettall though Siluer resting long vnscowr'd Will canker or with filth be quite obscur'd For ah this Witch the World with pleasing charmes so lullabies our Sense in soft delights That though we be vpon our guard in armes yet we are taken in our Appetites And made to serue the Diuell and our Flesh in strictest Bondage while their Parasits Sinne-soothing Pleasures doe our Sense refresh To serue them with the more alacritie So â—lee le ts Grace our Sense to mortifie A Parable Wee ' are like a Man chast by a raged Bull who in his flight into a Well doâ—h fall And in the fall by chance he lighteth full vpon a Tree that there growes in the Wall And resting there there sets his Soules delight but looking better on the place withall He spies two Mice one blacke the other White Who still the Roote of this his rest doe gnaw And more and more asunder it doe saw Then vnderneath he lookes and there espies a gaping Dragon threatning to deuoure him And at his feete foure striuing Serpents rise yet looking vp he spies what doth allure him And makes him deeme he is from dangers free a little Honie which he euer tryes Cleaues to a branch of that vntrusty Tree For which these dangers he neglects and still That Hony sicks yet ne'er can licke his fill The Morall The Bull is Death the World the Well the Tree our time of life the white Mowse and the blacke The Day and night the striuing Adders be the Elements that striue vs still to wracke The Diuell the Dragon and the Honie is our whitest Pleasures that are lin'd with blacke And blacke within for losse of Glories Blisse Who therefore would not deeme that man were mad That in such dreadfull dangers can be glad What comfort can we haue then in a place that 's by the Prince of darknesse gouerned Where eu'ry thing is in a cursed case and by Gods foes and good-mens peopled Where Paines be riâ—e extreame and infinite but Pleasures few and false fraile dull and dead Which at the best at least doe vexe the sp'rit Where Plentie's full of perill Want of woes And in a word where all that ill is flowes Then cast we off these pleasures that but cast a mist before our Eyes and mocke our Sense But let vs hugge those paines and hold them fast that bring eternall ioyes for recompence Now if this Potion worke not in sicke-mindes at point of death is their Intelligence Nay Death the pow'r of all their forces bindes In few Great things by greatest mindes are sought The small but seeke for shades the shels of Nought To attaine a quiet Life WHo would in quiet spend his life must shunne the Cause of strifes Effect And yet with Vice still liue in strife so Strife retaine and it reiect 1 Hold no Conceit 'gainst that Conceit the King maintaines vnlesse it be Against that Faith whose forme and waight with TRVTH well tride doth still agree 2 Finde neuer Fault but when the same concernes the Honor of the High'st Or else the Kings to heare whose blame is blame which oft to Death is nigh'st 3 No Wager lay for that but stirres the Losers heart to hate and ire Which oft enflameth Ciuill-warres
yet so much as smiled on me No force sith I my selfe the better know and see the World while me it doth not see Feare they her frowns that care but for her fawnes I feare nor care for neyther being white With Cares and Feares for my Graue open yawnes to swallow me to saue me from her spight Enough great Lord my Proheme is a Feast whereat my Muse doth surfet with sowre-sweetes Hard to receiue and harder to digest where loue and rashnesse Rime and Reason meetes But if they meet with Griefe that meets with thee I grieue with ioy for thou art fast and free A Dumpe or Swans-song ALl in a gloomy shade of Sicamour that did his leaues extend like Shields to beare The Beames of Phebus darted in his pow'r at those that vnderneath them shrowded were I me reposed while my Thoughts did range here there eu'ry wher wher thoghts might roame So by their change at last my latest change became their Subiect with my latest Home And when with Trauell they themselues had tyr'd I likewise tir'd with life that stirr'd them too Thus flasht I out with sacred fury fir'd and my thoughts Bottome thus did I vndoe Why long I longer here to liue in death for life if mortall dyeth all the while Be'ing but a puffe but of the weakest Breath yet blowes me Weakenesse into strong Exile As soone as borne was I condemn'd to dye since when Time hath but executed me Yet life prolongs in dying misery so yet I am as those that dying be To him that gaue me life a death I owe which sith I can I must and shall repay His Powr's as great to take as to bestow then will I pay him though I quite decay I dead in Sinne his onely Sonne he slew to please his Iustice and to make me liue Sith me he bought I le giue him then his due which had I haue much more then that I giue Death soone will rid me from this lifes annoyes Annoyes that nought can rid saue death from life And put me in possession of those Ioyes that are as farre from end as free from strife And wer 't not madnesse to repine that I had not had life when Eue did Adam wiue Then t is but all alike to liue and dye as t is Not to haue liu'd and not to liue Then life IS not that not immortall is for mortall life is but Deaths other name Nor is that Blisse that is not fearelesse Blisse nor glory that is subiect still to shame The Dayes of Heau'n are datelesse sith the Sunne that makes them such doth neither set nor rise But stands as it shall doth and still hath done fixt in the Noone-stead of ETERNITIES Here one 's the ruine of another Day while like a ne'er-suffized Graue the Night Doth bury both in silence yet doth prey vpon them both till both play least in sight Death is the dore of life so would I liue then through this dore to life I needes must goe For through this dore Death LIFE it selfe did driue then sith LIFE dide for life I must doe so Two onely had the priuiledge to wend another way to life that mortals were But t was in firy Charets to this end that Fire should flesh refine yer it came there There where all ioyes vnited are of force for force vnited stronger makes the same The spirit and flesh both rauisht to diuorce and melt their pow'rs in loues eternall flame What Lets shall let me then from Paradise Mountaines of Gold and Rockes of rarest stone Crossing my Way I trampling will dispise if thither Hope but goe with me alone This WORLD 's a Vale that ceaseles teares do spoile and make it so a Bog or lothsome Lake Then who but Swine that pleasure take in Soile will here if they can choose abiding make Heau'n is my Home the HIGH'ST my Father is his SONNE my Brother Angels are my Friends Then while from Them I am I am amisse and lightly misse the Meanes to so good Ends. My Body 's but the Prison of my Soule which straits her more the more that Prison's free Time 's but the Rocke that vp my Life doth rowle and Earth the Place where Heau'n spinnes it me Here must I fight till Death for endlesse Life The Chariot of my Triumph then is Death Then as I would be free from endlesse strife to mount this Chariot I must spend my Breath The ground whereon I tread's the ground of Grieâ—e so that each step doth grieue me for it is A Sanguine-field that beareth Hurts in chiefe crost with sinister-bends and All amisse Then here to bee amisse is to be borne in Dolors Field to eu'ry foule Disgrace O Death then help my Soules house to adorne and let thine Armes be mine for lifes are base Am I not durt and dust then maruell is 't if I but with a thought be that or this A shadow by some substance doth subsist but all my substance but a shadow is The Sunne doth rise and set the Moone doth hold a constant course in most vnconstant state The Earth now quick with heate then dead with cold doth shew their plight that It preambulate Then ô yee Saints whose Bellies being rife with Waters both of life and grace be yee Pure Aquaducts by life to bring me life from the Well-head that fill may you and mee The Graue though wide it gape dismayes me not sith t is the Gate of glory rest and peace And though therein my mortall Part must rot yet thence it springs with much more faire encrease If the last breath we call our Bodyes death then may we call the other Breathings deaths Sith Life and death doe come and goe with Breath we haue as many deaths as we haue breaths Yet twixt this life and that we death doe call this ods there is while life doth last we dye But when Death comes we die no more but shall by dying well liue well immortally O then looke how the Labourer for Night the Pilot for the Port and for the Inne The Poast doth long so doth my tired spright by death still long for Life and rest therein Death is my Hope than feare not I his knife Feare is his Sting but Hope hath puld it out The mortall'st Wounds immortall make my life then better dye in Hope then liue in Doubt If Death be painfull then is paine sustain'd before or at the Article of Death But not before for then but thought is pain'd and at the instant it 's but rest of breath So that in Death is rest without disease then Death be kinde and rest my life in thee While others that doe cast such summes as these these Cyphers summe decyph'ring thee and mee And Cyphers cast lifes Cyphers to and fro that I their number seene may multiply Take nought from Nought nought remaines so the summe of All is lesse then vanitie Cyphers not Numbers call I them because they runne sans number roundly