shall injure thee 89. This said we both together left the roome And I conducted her along the street Vntill I brought her to my Mothers home Whereas at doore my Sister did her meete And then my Mother did her kindly greete And entertain'd her in most courteous wise As either of them could in heart devise 90. Then did Amanda live and spend her time In holy duties reading and in prayer With griefe lamenting her fore-passed crime Till she was even brought unto the staire Through horror of her sinn of blacke despaire But of Gods speciall grace he did impart The joy of his good Spirit to her heart 91. For many good Divines did flocke unto her Applying godly comforts to her soule And greatly striving their best good to doe her Taught her so well her follies to condole And mortifie her sinnes erewhile so foule That they at length by daily information Wrought in her a good hope of her salvation 92. Then with more comfort would she pray and talke Yet pensive still of sinne she would complaine Forth of the house she seldome times would walke Vnlesse it were to Church and backe againe If she were well she would not thence abstaine Sermons and Service she did oft frequent And to no place as Church so gladly went 93. There would she listen with her best attention And pray as earnestly as any prai'd Avoiding sinne by diligent prevention And workes with faith to couple she assai'd Desires of pleasure were in her decai'd The onely path in which she striv'd to trace Was to repent for sinne and pray for grace 94. Oh how she loath'd the very name of whore And all that led a wicked wanton life Their sinfull courses she did much deplore The unmarried wench the widow and the wife As she knew many in those actions rise So she endeavour'd moving them by letter For to reclaime them and to make them better 95. No roaring youngster came within her sight Nor lustfull Prodigall did see her face Her secret friend that was her sole delight Was now forsaken and quite out of grace Whereas she lay he must not know the place Nor he nor any now must looke upon her That had before attempted her dishonour 96. Thus did she leade her life unto her death Dying to sinne and living unto grace To goodnesse wholly she did her bequeath She tooke no pleasure in her comely face Nor any evill motion did embrace But spent her time in holy contemplation To beate downe sin shame the worlds temptation 97. Two yeeres she liv'd in sound and perfect health The most reformed creature on the earth She had not much and yet desir'd no wealth Humble she was as one of meanest birth And more inclin'd to sadnesse then to mirth Vaine pratling and much talking she despises Delighting most in pious exercises 98. She did no company at all admit But modest vertuous and of good report To talke of Plaies she would not heare of it She tooke no joy in any kinde of sport Meetings at Tavernes now she car'd not for t She did not seeke for to augment her store And what she had to give she gave the poore 99. She did abandon every earthly pleasure Delighting onely in religious bookes Her godly zeale did make the heavens her treasure From thence alone she for her comfort lookes Her studie was to shun the divels hookes And all her hopes on which she did depend Was on Christs merits at her latter end 100. After two yeeres that she had lived thus She fell through griefe into a heckticke feaver The which at length did grow so dangerous That of all hopes of health it did bereave her And never left her till her life did leave her Weaker and weaker still she pin'd away And saw how nature in her did decay 101. She knew her thred of life was almost spun And with great patience tooke her visitation She did rejoyce her life so neere was done Being acquainted long with tribulation And now her heart with heavenly consolation Was so replenisht and with such delight She would not longer live if that she might 102. Her griefe grew stronger still as she grew weake Hasting apace to bring her to her end At length she did desire with me to speake Where at her bed I straight way did attend Then reaching me her hand she said my friend My onely friend thy love through heavens grace Hath-sav'd the sinfull'st soule that ever was 103. The booke thou sent'st that little Paper booke Wherein thou did'st unmask my foule offence Behold and see what true effect it tooke That booke I say did worke in me the sence Of my owne follie and my impudence I blesse the time for this thy blessed favour And blesse the Lord that blest thy good endeavour 104. And here my latest thankes to thee I give And with these thankes of mine this little Ring My houre is come I can no longer live Wear 't for my sake although a worthlesse thing I cannot recompence thy meriting My tongue doth faile goe toule the passing bell A thousand times sweet friend farewell farewell 105. This said she drew her hand into the bed The time approaching of her latest 〈◊〉 Then turning up her eyes to heav'n she sed Lord to thy hands I doe my spirit commend Then to the wall her body did she bend And with a feeble voice againe she cri'd Iesus receive my soule so she did 106. And so she did so she di'd to live And living as she did she sweetely di'd Her death to her a lasting life did give Her life before her death was mortisi'd And at her death her life beatifi'd Death vanquisht life concluding of her paine Shee liv'd to die and di'd to live againe FINIS A Meditation upon Death NOthing more wisht then wealth yet that must leave us Nothing more sweete then love that lasts not ever Nothing more kinde then friends yet they l deceive us Nothing more fast then wedlocke yet they sever The world must end all things away must fly Nothing more sure then death for all must dy More honours may be got but they 'l away More beauty may be had but t will not last More wealth may be obtain'd but t will decay More joyes may follow but those soone are past For long continuance t is in vaine to try Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Sure love must dy though rooted in the heart Sure t is that all things earthly are unstable Sure friends are pure friends yet such friends must part Sure t is that all things here are variable Nor two nor one may scape nor thou nor I Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Then let the rich no longer covet wealth Then let the proud vaile his ambitious thought Then let the sound not glory in his health Then let all dy since all must come to nought The elder sish as well as younger fry Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Death tooke away King Herod in his pride Death spar'd not Hercules for all his strength Death strooke great Alexander that he did Death long spar'd Adam yet he di'd at length The begger and the King the low the high Nothing more sure then death for all must dy For Scepters Crownes Emperiall Diadems For all the beauties that on Earth doe live For pleasures treasures jewels costly jems For all the glories that the world can give She will not spare her dart but still replie Nothing more sure then death for all must dy All from the highest to the low'st degree All Nations People Kingdomes Countries Lands All in the Earth or Aire or Sea that be All all must yeeld to her all conquering hands She wounds them all with an impartiall eye Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Must all then dy then all expect their death Must ' all things vanish Sunne and Moone and Starres Must every living creature yeeld his breath Must all things end our joyes delights and cares Yes all with an united voice doe cry Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Dy let us then but let us dy in peace Dy to our sinnes that dying we may live Dy to the world that grace may more increase Dy here to live with him that life doth give Die we must needs let wealth and pleasure ly Nothing more sure then death for all must dy FINIS Nothing More Sure Then Death For All Must Dy.
moves me to discover My will to thee then freely read it over 2. But looke not here for pleasant tales of love Nor sycophanticke speech to please thy sence No lines encomiasticke thee to move Nor oyly words of guilded eloquence My humble Muse avoyds such eminence I doe not strive to please thee yet well know I am a friend of thine and not a foe 3. My purpose is to call thee to account How thou hast wasted thy fore passed time Whether thy vertue doth thy vice surmount And how thou conquer'st passion in thy prime I must examine it in this my rime Nay start not backe nor throw it now away Thy word stands good against me thou must stay 4. Thou art arrayned and indicted here Of many impious and vile offences Vse thy best policy thy selfe to cleere They are not vaine surmises nor pretences But direct proofes apparant inferences What sayes thy conscience to it dar'st thou pleade Not guilty so thy doome to supersede 5. No no thou canst not it is too apparant The tincture that remaines upon thy name Is rooted in the marrow ther 's no warrant Can shroud thee from an ignominious shame Reproach and infamy doth blast thy fame And such a scandall hangs upon thy head As wall not be by time abolished 6. For know Amanda to thy griefe even I Have pri'd into thy secret passages And have observed with a watchfull eye Such as to thee come with Embassages And understood their private messages I know their suits and whereunto they tend And see destruction wait upon the end 7. I well perceive what thy companions are Rough roaring roysters young untamed fellowes Gallants from Court and Captaines from the warre These to thy fire of lust doe blow the bellowes Of such men I have reason to be jealous To thy bed chamber they have free accesse And revell there in beastly wantonnesse 8. Th' acquaintance that thou hast are whores bawds God dammees drunkards cheaters swearers thieves Young bold fac't Queanes and old fore-ridden Iades Such company as those thy want relieves These are thy mates thou hang'st upon their sleeves And then besides thou alwaies hast in store Thy Patronesse a Bawd thy Mayd a Whore 9. Thou think'st thou art not bad enough unlesse Thou dost invoke on God to sinke and damne thee Nor that thou canst sufficiently transgresse Because no wickednesse at all will shame thee It is thy praise thou think'st and none can blame thee To tip thy tongue with fearefull three-pil'd oathes And that they grace thee better than thy clothes 10. Familiarly thou swear'st by life and death By flesh bloud wounds heart foote and soule of God Three or foure severall times within a breath Carelesse and almost fearelesse of his rod. As if thy life would have no period It is thy grace and glory for to rore And use strange oathes unheard of heretofore 11. Hath God forbid to take his Name in vaine And thee commanded that thou shalt not sweare Dost thou despaire of mercy as did Cain That nothing will constraine thee to forbeare Hast thou within thee neyther love nor feare The reines that thou dost give unto thy will Makes thee runne headlong unto all that 's ill 12. Oh that one sinne should get another thus And thy foule lust to be the cause of all Thy oathes and actions are so odious They daily doe to Heaven for vengeance call Prevent it then in time before it fall Make peace with God before it be too late Prevent his wrath thy sinnes abominate 13. I have observ'd the wicked course thou lead'st And know the places thou doest use to haunt I see the path wherein thou dayly tread'st I heare thee proudly honest vertue taunt And of thy base and wicked actions vaunt I see the little feare of God thou hast At no time sorry for thy follies past 14. This doe I know and see it with mine eyes It is not blaz'd unto me by report I see thy Minion come in a disguise And his kinde welcome hugging of him for 't And whilst he staies debarring all resort You as neere match'd and undistinguish't twins Wallow in filthy pooles of stinking sinnes 15. I see thy wanton thy unseemely carriage And loose behaviour unto every commer More bold then wert thou links to them in marriage Spending thy youth and vigour of thy summer Sometimes with common Souldiers or a Drummer Nay if thy lust but once begin to burne A Dray man or a Porter serves thy turne 16. I see it and it makes me tell thee thus Thou art unchast alas a word too milde Thou art a strumpet and more odious Then Furies or Hobgoblins to a childe Thou art too tame by being too too wilde Thou art a Harlot or if it be more Thou art a shamelesse and a bold-fac'd Whore 17. Did not I tempt thee minding for to try And sound the depth of thy too loose condition Remember well didst thou not answer I When as that answer strooke in me contrition Sorry to see so ready a submission And no repulse at all but giving fire Vnto the fuell of a hot desire 18. I durst not thee condemne without a tryall Knowing the great uncertainety of fame I thought perchance I might have had deniall Although I greatly did not doubt the same But rather feared thou wert voide of shame And now thou hast confirmed my suspition By manifesting thy too base condition 19. This was the marke at which I level'd first And the chiefe cause to satisfie my minde Though knowing nought I did suspect the worst Conjecturing which way thou wert inclinde And now as I supposde I truely finde Here therefore I my chiefest force will bend And put in practise what I did intend 20. I thought within my selfe that if I could Worke into thy acquaintance for to know Thy secret disposition then I would Finding the same as I imagin'd tho And as I did conjecture to be so Vse the best art and policy I might To make thee a reformed convertite 21. For when I first beheld that face of thine I could not but commend the workes of nature A looke so pleasing as it were divine Of a well fashion'd and a comely feature I thought thou wert an admirable creature Adorn'd with such a presence that I saw It well deserved reverence and awe 22. O Lord thought I what pity is 't that thou And those sweete beauties should be put to sale Why should they unto every peasant bow Till they are worne out or waxed stale And their fresh colour turn'd into a pale I st not a misery that such a woman Should as a thing of nought be usde in common 23. In pity therefore of thy wretched state And meerely in compassion of that face I vow'd my best thy life to renovate And see if in thy brest there were a place That would give entertainement unto grace For doubtlesse in my heart I should condole The losse of such a body and a soule 34.
Thy lace and dressing there thou dost bestow And in a painted boxe Oh! fie for shame Thou put'st thy playster and there keep'st the same And in another likewise out of sight Thy Mallow rootes to make thy teeth looke white 47. Here likewise lies thy gorgets made of Lawne Hard by upon a nayle against the wall Doth hang thy Gownes save those that are at pawne With them thy Petty-cotes and Waste-cotes all Neere unto them because the roome 's but small Wrapt in a paper next unto thy Bever As light as thou thy selfe doth hang thy Fether. 49. Nor farre from these doth stand all in a row A box with curles and counterfeited haire Flaxen browne yellow some as black 's a Crow Iust under these doth stand thy groaning-chaire And close by it of Chamber pots a paire Then next thy bed upon another shelfe There stands a Pot of painting for thy selfe 49. By that within a glasse doth stand a Potion To cleare thy stomacke and make sweet thy breath And then a heape of bookes of thy devotion Lying upon a shelfe close underneath Which thou more think'st upon then on thy death They are not prayers of a grieved soule That with repentance doth his sinnes condole 50. But amorous Pamphlets that best likes thine eyes And Songs of love and Sonets exquisit Among these Venus and Adonis lies With Salmacis and her Hermaphrodite Pigmalion's there with his transform'd delight And many merry Comedies with this Where the Athenian Phryne acted is 51. Two casements to thy window alwaies are One of the which stands open very wide Where thou present'st thy face unmaskt and bare And if by chance thou hast a gallant ey'de Passing the street that hath not thee espi'de Thou hast a tricke which thou wilt seldome spare To give him notice that thou standest there 52. For with a clap thou pull'st the casement too That he may cast his eye up to the place With tother hand thou dost the next undoe And there againe present'st to him thy face And looking on him with a smiling grace Thou let'st the gallant thereby understand That thou art at his service and command 53. Betweene those casements hangs a Christ all glasse Closde in a case Embosted faire with Gold Where thou dost oft view and review thy face Spending whole houres thy picture to behold Setting thy lookes the best way to be sold. So turning round about and walking then Once through the roome com'st to the glasse agen 54. By this time there is something sits awry One locke is bigger then the other is That hangs too farre backe this too neere thine eye The pin upon thy band is set amisse Thy lace worne so is hansomer then this Then thus it must be and then thus and thus That Pendent's darke this more perspicuous 55. Thy swelling-brests are not display'd enough Pull them up higher set thy dressing lower Those strippings sute farre better with a Ruffe Tother is layd aside this used more Thy Crossecloth is not pinned right before Thus with thy tiffing trimming and thy mending Thou spend'st whole houres together without ending 56. The Mistris of the house where thou dost lie Hath formerly beene of the selfe-same trade One that long since hath sold her honesty And now is turn'd from Whore unto a Bawd And of a helding is become a Iade She tels thee how thou should'st thy selfe demeane And act the part of an audacious Queane 57. Two servants to attend thy lawlesse lust As Ministers of thy ungodly course Are never wanting by the which thou must Fill the defects of thy decaying purse And make the wicked to become more worse With thee and for thee these doe use to wander One as a Pimpe the other as a Pander 58. Beside thy Pimpe thy Pander and thy Bawd To make thee a compleate and perfect whore As necessary members to thy trade To helpe thee at thy need thou keep'st in store Some well approu'd Physitian evermore As his assistants lest thou should'st miscarry Thou hast a Surgeon and Apothecary 59. Thy Doctor he to keepe thy body cleane Begins at first with his preparatives To make of thee a sound and wholesome queane And then his purgatives and his restoratives And afterwards with his preservatives Who for thy Iulips Potions Glisters Pils To thy Apothecary sends his bils 60. Directed thus by thy Physitian He must accordingly prepare them all And then comes to thee with his composition And brings thee Ielleys with a Cordiall And other potions diureticall And as he tooke direction how to make them So he must now enforme thee how to take them 61. The Surgeon too must his attendance give With all such instruments as fits his art Without his needfull helpe thou canst not live To thy polluted corps he must impart His chiefest skill to keepe thee sound at heart His seringe and his cerecloths and his patches Must be applyed to thy sores and aches 62. The places thou dost usually frequent Is to some Play-house in an afternoone And for no other meaning and intent But to get company to sup with soone More changeable and wavering then the Moone And with thy wanton lookes attracting to thee The amorous spectators for to wooe thee 63. Thether thou com'st in severall formes and shapes To make thee still a stranger to the place And traine new lovers like young Birds to scrapes And by thy habit so to change thy face At this time plaine too morrow all in lace Now in the richest colours may be had The next day all in mourning blacke and sad 64. In a Stuffe Wastcote and a Peticote Like to a chamber-mayd thou com'st to day The next day after thou dost change thy note Then like a conntrey wench thou com'st in gray And sittest like a stranger at the Play The morrow after that thou comest then In the neate habit of a Citizen 65. The next time rushing in thy Silken weeds Embroyder'd lac't perfum'd in glittering show So that thy lookes an admiration breeds Rich like a Lady and attended so As brave as any Countesse dost thou goe Thus Proteus-like strange shapes thou ventrest on And changest hue with the Cameleon 66. The Play once ended to some Taverne neere Thou and thy Copes-mates presently resort Where the best Wine and the most costly cheere Must be provided in the neatest sort For thy choyce pallat else thou car'st not for 't And when thou hast it yet thou canst not eate Without a noyse of Fidlers to thy meate 67. There dost thou spend thy time till almost day In drinking dancing and in beastly riot And never think'st it time to goe away Vntill some quarrell makes the house unquiet Or a large bill affrights thee for thy dyet The night thus spent and mornings neere approach Sends thee home tumbling in a tottering Coach 68. Thy new acquaintance brings thee to the dore Of thy close lodging in some private place To know the house that ne'r was there before And staying with thee but
of straw 180. Where being full of aches sores and biles Thy beauty turned to a tawny hue And that consum'd which was so faire ere whiles Vnknowne of those that thee but lately knew As a just vengeance to thy merits due Breathest thy last beneath some open stall Or di'st diseased in an Hospitall 181. There lies thy pompe and glory in the dust Thy body cloth'd with rags and all too torne Thy flesh comsum'd and wasted by thy lust Loathed condemn'd disdain'd and held in scorne Not one of all thy friends for thee will mourne Nor hardly thinke thee worthy for to have To hide thy stinking corps a simple grave 182. Loe here Amanda view thy selfe at large Behold thy life and after that thy death Peruse each line and letter I thee charge Let it not be forgotten in a breath To thy best thoughts I doe the same bequeath Advisedly consider of the matter I tell thee what is true and scorne to flatter 183. And if it take effect as I desire And breede a sorrow for thy time mispent If it shall cause thee from thy course retire And be a meanes to make thy heart relent And be reform'd by my admonishment Assure thy selfe that thou hast gain'd a friend That shall not faile thee till his life doth end 184. For my sake therefore I adjure thee here To turne thy course and bend another way For thy friends sake to whom thou shouldst be deere Come home unto thy selfe and doe not stay For thine owne sake I charge thee to obey And in compassion of that soule of thine Live not in darknesse when the sunne doth shine 185. Pity thy yeeres that are but young and tender Pity thy fathers care thy mothers love For thy sad kindreds sorrow pity render Let thy acquaintance some compassion move Looke not still downe but raise thy thoughts above If no thing else prevaile let feare of God Worke thy conversion and his threatning rod. 186. Strive to regaine the honour thou hast lost And seeke thy ruin'd credit to repaire Thy conscience is benum'd with follies frost Let thy warme teares of sorrow thaw the ayre That chils thy heart with nipping cold despaire And so dissolve thy crusty yce of sinne That hot repentance may let mercy in 187. Redeeme the time that thou hast spent in vaine And persue honour as thou followd'st vice Although unwilling yet thy selfe constraine Against thy will to vertue be not nice Tire not in acting goodnesse twice or thrice But persevere from one unto another As happy daughter of a blessed mother 188. And when thou hast this little Pamphlet read And seene the scope whereto these lines doe tend Let them not passe an hower out of thy head Vntill thy sorrow make thy life amend And worke a reformation in the end Doe not oh doe not put them from thy heart But to thy sickly soule some helpe impart 189. Then shall my prayers flie aloft with thine And my desires seeke earnestly thy blisse Thy happinesse shall be to me as mine Thy godly sorrow for thy life amisse Shall breed such joy as none shall be like this The comfort that thy soule shall thereby taste Shall be a Crowne of glory at the last 190. In hope therefore of this my good successe And of a happy welcome to these lines Wishing thou mayst thy wicked lusts suppresse I leave thee unto him whose grace refines Praying his blessing unto these designes Heavens grant thee that which none on earth can give A life prepar'd to die a death to live When I had written these lines I made them up in a little booke and by a friend which I had sent them unto her lodging with a letter likewise to be delivered unto her both which my friend presented to her owne hands and she receiving of them thankfully read over the letter presently in his sight and told him that so soone as she had perused the booke which should not be long she would send her answer unto me and so my friend taking a courteous farewell left her and returned telling me of the kinde welcome both of the letter and the booke which I was glad to heare of and therefore hoped in a short time to receive her answer which I did wish might be according as I both expected and desired I wayted for her answer about ten daies and not hearing from her well knowing in that time she might at her leisure have read it over I began to wonder what the reason should be imagining that eyther she was loath to bestow so much paynes as to reade it or else having read it she was offended at it and being willing to be satisfied herein yet unwilling that she should take any notice of my desire I sent another friend not to her lodging but neere unto it to the end that I might be assured whether she still continued there or whether she were removed to any other place my friend taking occasion secretly to enquire of her understood by one of the neighbours that she kept her old lodging and that she had lately beene very sicke and was not then recovered Of which her sicknes when I understood I was in some hope that she had considered seriously on the contents of the booke and that it had wrought so farre with her that she had layd the same to her heart and was thereby drawne to a strict examination of her owne life which might be the meanes of troubling her conscience so farre as that it might breede a distemper in her body and so be the cause of impayring her health desirous therefore to understand how she digested it whether there were any other cause of her disease I sent my friend to her lodging to see how she did not taking any notice that I had knowne of her sicknesse and withall to excuse my not comming unto her all that time whither when he came he was willingly conducted into her chamber where she then lay in her bed and delivering his message unto her she told him that she had beene very ill and wonderfull desirous to see me and entreated him to signifie so much unto me and that she was minded to send a messenger unto me but that by reason of her sicknesse she knew not how conveniently to doe it not speaking one word unto him concerning the booke My friend not staying long with her and promisig to acquaint me with her desire departed and telling me what her request was and in vvhat case he found her I resolved vvithin fevv daies to visit her and accordingly within a day or two after I came unto her chamber where being entred I found her sitting in her chaire by the fire and weeping exceedingly I comming in so suddenly and she turning her head espying of me presently leapt out of her chaire and comming towards me tooke me by the hand and looking earnestly in my face she began to speake to me to this effect the substance whereof for memory sake I