spend the remainder of his pilgrimage in the mournfull valley of discontent God hath an infinite number both of sacred and secret wayes as well to punish as to pardon As the eye of Gods providence protects the just so the bright raies of his divinity pierce the darke and secret caverns of the most hellish intendments Our breasts actions are as transparent to his eye as his Decrees are invisible to ours Though a plot of malice be never so cunningly contrived a twinkling of Gods eye is able both to detect and punish it He that sailes by the star of Vertue shall in time land himselfe upon the shore of Honour Affections founded on Vertue have happy ends but built on lust and vice begin pleasantly but terminate in misery It is a base thing to erect Trophees of Honor to our selves upon the ruines of anothers reputation High time it is to flee vanity whē the drum of age beats a quick march towards the silent grave It is for the most part but lost labour to bend a mans force against the streame of anothers affections Justice is the soule of a Common-wealth for as a Body without a Soule soone stinks and is noisome so a Common-wealth without Iustice quickly turns to a lump of corruption There are certaine Springs that when the Sun shineth hottest they are coldest at midnight when the Sunne is gone they are then hottest So it is with Man his zeal is coldest in the Sun-shine of prosperity but in the gloomie dayes of dark adversity begins to gather heat It is said of the Sea Elephant that sometimes he will come ashore and sleep amongst the rocks where as soone as he is espyed the people surround him with nets gins to take him which done they awake him who as soone as he is awake leaps with a violent rush thinking to leap again into the Sea but cannot So it is with those who stragling out of the waies of piety oftentimes fall asleep in sinne which when by death or sicknesse they are awakened think presently to rush into heaven or upon the instant to leap into the paths of Repentance but then it is too late for they are oftentimes catcht as surely as suddenly like the foole in the Gospell that had laid up goods for many yeares We should tast worldly pleasures running like the Aegyptian dogs upon the banks of Nile for as they if they stand to drink long in a place are in danger of that Serpent the Crocodile so are those that stay to take full draughts of worldly pleasures in danger of that serpent the Devill It is a bootlesse thing to indevour the reformation or conversion of a perverse man there is no medling with him that loves to be transported with the streame of his owne opinions Heaven is the admired instrument of the glorious God by the influence whereof he rules and governes the great masse of this corruptible world It is said of those quagmires of honey which some say to be in Muscovia that there are gins snares set about them by which the Beare which out of a love to the hony frequenteth those places is oftentimes catcht and thereby constrained to forfeit his life by pleasing the curiosity of his taste Nocet empta dolore voluptas The sweetnesse of sin is the death of the soule The pleasures of sin carry a faire shew but as the shadow of the richest colour yea of scarlet it selfe is alwaies black so be the colours of sin nere so glorious its shadow is black and hellish though in taste it be wondrous pleasant yet in digestion it is bitter as wormwood the deadly Arsenicke of the soul and the bane of all our happinesse against which no Antidote prevailes but the precious bloud of the Immaculate Lamb Christ Iesus It is not good to be alwayes busied in the toilsome shop of Action that man hath but an earthly soul which maugre the importunity of the greatest businesse wil not sometimes sequester himselfe into the withdrawing chamber of Meditation Credulity is oftentimes the dreame of fooles the drunkards ape and the blind nurse of dangerous security Bonaventure tels us that the damned shall weep more teares in hell than there is water in the sea because the water of the sea is finite but the teares shall be wept in hell are infinite never ceasing as long as God is God Men are not rich or poore according to what they possesse but to what they desire the onely rich man is he that with content enjoys a competēcie Mensa minuscula Pace referta Melior divitiis Lite repletis Miserable is he that chooseth a wife either for by or base respects but happy is that mariage when the soule is matcht as well as the body Wise is he that shapes his expēces by his means and cuts the wings of his desires in pleasure that they mount not above the flight of his fortunes Nothing more unsatiable than mens desires he that is poor would be rich he that is rich would be a gentleman a gentleman would be a nobleman a noble man would be a King a King would be the Monarch of the world and he that was so wept because there was no more to conquer Heu quòd mortali non unus sufficit orbis It is not want makes men poore nor abundance renders them rich the rich man may say of himselfe as Narcissus said when he saw his owne beauty in the water which made him fall in love with himselfe Inopem me copia fecit Ovid. Meta. quid gentibus auri Nunquam extincta sitis As there are no better rules than good examples so there is nothing more pernitiously dangerous than bad Longum iter per praecepta breve per exemplum It is good for a man to be industrious in his youth and to know that if by honest labour hee accomplish any good thing the labour is soon past but the good remaines to his comfort and if for his pleasure he doe any thing that is ill the pleasure is gone in a moment but the evill remaines to his torment Impia sub dulci melle venena latent Ovid. de Pont. The strongest argument of a wise man is to be a good husband of his time for amongst all the things that God created there is nothing more precious Tempora labuntur tacitisque senescimus annis Et fugiunt fraeno non remorante dies Lent is a time of fasting but the soules great festivall for the pampering of the body is the starving of the soule and when we macerate the body we make the soule a feast if depressio carnis leade not the way elevatio mentis will never move There is a creature saith Plinie in the North parts of Sweden called a Ierfe of so ravenous and devouring a nature that though his belly be nere so full he is not satisfied he will eate till by his fulnesse he is scarce able to goe and then run to the trees that grow neare together
tolle latet quod pectore teque docebo Et dii dent studiis vela secunda tuis The same in English APollos skill the Grecian pen for wars And Virgils too transceÌ„d the glittring stars Praise makes men live but thou a child unfit Transcends the limits of an old mans wit Both sea and land thou know'st for thy praise Our times shall give thee thy deserved bayes Great Poets sing great things that children know not Which to the places of oblivion go not Thy learning fits not with thy tender mold Old men are children thou a child art old The heavenly stars upon thy birth did shine To make thee happy now the praise is thine Take up thy bayes I 'le teach thee what 's in me And may the Gods give prosp'rous fates to thee In praise of Learning HAppy thrice happy ô ye sisters still That love and live on sweet Parnassus hill Blest be your times and tunes that sit and sing On flowrie banks by Aganippes Spring Blest be the shadie groves where those doe dwell Which doe frequent that Heliconian Well Where learning lives whereby when men expire They are made chanters in the heavenly quire That sacred learning whose inspired notions Makes Mortalls know heavens high alternat motions TruÌ„pets their names unto the christal sky Though in the grave their bones consuming lie Thrice happy those then to whoÌ„ learning's given Whose lives on earth doe sympathize with heaveÌ„ Whose thoughts are still on high longing to see Heavens Tabernacles of Eternity Sleighting the world and spurning at its praise Which like Meander runs ten thousand waies They when pale death to dust their corps shall bring With quires of Angels shal in heaveÌ„ sing To his honoured friend Mr Giles Balle Merchant On the Spring THe lofty Mountains standing on a row Which but of late were periwigd with snow D'off their old coats and now are daily seene To stand on tiptoes all in swaggering greene Meadows and gardens are prankt up with buds And chirping birds now chant it in the woods The warbling Swallow and the Larks do sing To welcome in the glorious verdant Spring To his deare friend and cousin Mr Allan Penny Citizen of Exeter On the Morning THe morning golden horse rush forth amain Spending their breath suckt froÌ„ the Eastern plain And posting still with speed through gentle aire Hurle their perfumes from out the glittring chair The Suns bright Steeds come running up again To Taurus top still glad to see the plain Of Indolstan and now begins t' approach The winged Messenger of heaven in 's Coach Of ruddy flames night-wandring stars have done Their stragling course and now the day 's begun Bright burning Luna drags her dazling taile Into the dungeon of a darksome vaile To his deare friend and brother Mr Thomas Bowdon On the Evening RIse rise yee sootie horse from duskie dale And draw your Mistresse in a sable vaile Who rides it out with her knot curled haire Like to an Aethiope in an Ebonie chaire Whose dark unseemly face is wrapt in shrowds With Styx dy'd curtains of congealed clouds Rise thou pale Queen of night prepare thy carres And climb you glittring glorious mount of stars To his dearest brother Mr. William Holmes Citizen of Exeter Deaths impartiality Carmen Hexametrum HIgh minded Pyrrhus brave Hector stout Agamemnon Hannibal and Scipio whom all the world did attend on That worthy Captain world conquering great Alexander That tender constant true hearted lovely Leander That cunning Painter that curious handed Apelles Mirmidons insatiate that kept the Tent of Achilles Alphonsus Aragon that great Mathematicall Artist That stately Queene of beauty that Lady Mars kist Wit wealth and beauty yea all these pomps that adorne us Must see black Phlegiton rough Styx and fatall Averaâ—s To his kind and loving friend Mr Henry Prigg Citizen of Exeter On the sweetnesse of Contentation THe world still gazeth on the glittering shew Of Scepters Crowns and Diadems but few Consider truely the tempestuous cares And tumbling troubles of the State affaires Honour 's the spur that pricks th' ambitious mind And makes it puffe and swel with th' empty wind Of self conceit But yet me thinks I see A state more full of sweet security The russet Farmer more contentment yeelds Unto himselfe whilst toiling in his fields Beholds upon the pleasant fertile banks Wise Natures flowrie wonders in their ranks And when the halfe part of the day is spent His wife her basket brings they with content Do both sit down by some sweet stragling Spring And make a Feast whilst 'bout his table sing The chirping birds he when the day is past Home to his children and his wife makes haste The children joy to see their father there The father joyes to see his children deare Then they begin to him their pleasant prattle One shewes his pins another brings his rattle With these contents the good man 's over-joy'd When thus he sees his deare affections cloid Whil'st others toile for honour and in vaine Deny themselves those sweets they might obtain O then thou great Commander of the skyes That dings downe pride and makes the poor man rise Let them that will dote on these gilded toyes Let me account it chiefest of my joyes T' enjoy a meane estate and nothing more If 't be thy pleasure that I still be poore Give me this sweet content that I may die A patient servant to thy Majestie To his dearely affected friend Mr George Leach of Broadelist in Devon On the vanity of Man LIke to the Swan on sweet Meanders brink Like flowers that flourish in the morne and shrink Down with their heads when sable night appears Such is our frailty in this vale of teares The gilded gallant and the tortur'd slave Cut down by death come tumbling to the grave Not Europes riches nor an Ajax bold Nor men nor Angels nor our bags of gold Nor he that was the spacious worlds CoÌ„mander Caesar Pompey nor an Alexander Nor can greene youth well wit or tender age The raging fury of thy Sword asswage O then thou Star Commander dreadfull King Whose Fiat makes the trembling world to ring Teach us ô teach us so to know our dayes Thereby to rectifie our crooked waies That when with Angels and Archangels thou Shalt come to judge the world and make it bow We then may render up a good account And live with thee upon that starrie mount In Hyemem PApula canescunt tremebundi turbinis horror Fulminat heu Boreas nimbosa grandinatira Torva laboriferi fulgentia cornua quassi Tauri nix tegit pelagus vult tangere stellas Cerberus horrendo baculo nunc Tartara plangit Flammiferosque locos dicit spoliasse pruinam On the death of Mr. Charles Fitz-Geffrays Minister of Gods Word O Thou the saddest of the Sisters nine Adde to a sea of teares one teare of thine Unhappy I that am constrain'd to sing His death whose life did make the world to ring With ecchoes of his praise A true Divine In 's life doctrine which like Lamps did shine Till they were spent and done did never cease To guide our steps unto eternall peace Thy habitation's now the starry mount Where thy great Maker makes of thee account Farewell thou splendor of the spacious West Above th' Aetheriall clouds for ever blest The losse of thee a watry mountaine reares With high spring-tide of our sad trickling teares On Sack O Thou so much admir'd by ev'ry soule That lives 'twixt th' Artick th' Antartick Pole Apollo's drink drawn from the Thespian spring Whereof the silver Swans before they sing Doe alwaies drink though thy sweet simpring smiles Some mortall creatures of their coine beguiles Yet from black Limbo's gate thou bring'st mans soule And makes his spirits knock the highest Pole On Tobacco THou hell-bred lump of sin infernall drink Pernicious damn'd soule-fascinating stink Time's great consumer cursed child of hell Scum of perdition sprung from Pluto's cell Thy barbarous nature likes no soile so well As where the Devill and his Pagans dwell Bewitched then are those that stand-up for thee Till they have grace t' abandon and abhor thee IN OBITVM HENRICI BLUETT Generosi RVsticus in agro Opifex in pago Omnes hoc mundo Nituntur in vano Mercator in mare Vir officina Cum vult pulsare Mors quid medicina FINIS Imprimantur hae Nocturnae Lucubrationes SA BAKER Ex Aedibus Londin Apr. 2. 1638.
alwayes observes the censuring murmur of idle people shall never let the suspected blush depart from his cheeke A malevolent mind is like a boystrous sea tumbling in the swelling billowes of indignation till dire revenge sets it in a conceited liberty and never till then is it lockt in the griping gins of soule tormenting captivity Devilish is that disposition which to wait an opportunity of revenge will seeme to rake up its malice in the cinders of oblivion but when the time serves will not stick to give fire to the whole heap of its hell-bred mischiefe It is a prodigious thing to see a devilish disposition put on a godly face and loathed basenesse cloath'd with a scarfe of unstained purity The Suns eye never saw the man that lived not under the controuling hand of Fate Many gaze on the glorious out-side of a Princes diadem but few consider the tempestuous affaires that doe environ it Hope of remedy and continuance of griefe should be both of one length when hope of remedy is past grief should make an end Too much to lament a misery is the next way to draw on a remedilesse mischiefe Bootlesse griefe hurts a mans selfe but patience makes a jest of an injury Hee that is indebted to Grief let him borrow of Patience and he shall soone be out of debt Patience rides it out in the most boysterous stormes of adversity and is armour of proofe against the thick flying bullets of the most malicious assaults Where the scale of sensuality waighs down that of reason the basenes of our nature conducts us to most preposterous conclusions It is a madnesse to be much affected with vanity for though in youth we neither doe nor will consider it yet in the end the winter of age comes and with the besome of time sweeps away the summer of our youthfull follies Quicquid Sol oriens quicquid occidens Novit caeruleis Oceanus fretis Quicquid vel veniens vel fugiens lavat Aetas Pegaseo corripiet gradu Senec. in Troade Opinion is the soveraigne mistresse or rather the sole Midwife of either good or bad effects It is not fit for an◠man though never so miserable to despair of his own future good hap for many are the events that lie in the teeming wombe of Time Ill words bewray foule thoughts but sweet behaviour is the index of a vertuous mind Praecipitis linguae comes est poenitentia Labour in good things is sweet in the issue but pleasure in evill things turns to a torment Faire words without good deeds to a man in misery are like a saddle of gold clapt upon the back of a gall'd horse A foolish man in wealth and authority is like a weake timberd house with too pondrous a roofe Heaven without earth is perfect but earth without heaven is but the porch of hell There are no riches like to the sweetnesse of content nor no poverty comparable to the want of patience I have read of the Hart that he weeps every yeare for the shedding of his head though the loosing of the old be the way to make roome for a better So is it with worldlings they weep to part with any thing here though it be for never so great a treasure hereafter though no lesse a matter than the eternall joyes of heaven crown the end of faith and good works yet that i vende totum quod habes redde pauperibus is such a durus sermo that it makes them block up their eares against the wisest Charmer The Hart likewise when he sees himself taken by the hounds or other devise will shed teares thinking thereby to intenerate the hearts of the hunters and move them to pitty or else because he sees himselfe irrecoverably catcht So every true penitent whens hee sees himselfe overtaken by the wiles of Satan should never stop his tears till he sees his owne blessed recoverie out of the clawes of the devill for he that is on high keeps our tears in his bottle and though his tender mercy will not presse upon a broken heart yet he is alwayes pleased to see a sorrowfull soule baptize himself in the trickling drops of repentant dew He that consults with his body for the saving of his soule shall never bring it to heaven If we hope to reape in joy we must sow in teares He that stands up against the vices of great Ones had need to be treble guarded with Law Friends and Authority The longer we live the more misery we endure life is like a span forc'd frō a gouty hand the more the hand is extented the more paine it suffers Supposed goodnesse by the blab of time will have her close basenesse set upon the scaffold of publique shame The fierce flash of too violent fire soon burns out it selfe The old proverb saith Faire and softly goes far but he that spurs too fast tires betimes It is a wise mans part in a case of extremity with patience to swallow down the bitter potion of indignity Harsh reproof is like a violent storme soone washt down the channell but friendly admonitions like a small showre pierce deep and bring forth better reformation A wise man will digest with patience the sad tidings of calamity when a foole by grumbling at a crosse hurts himselfe Life is a continuall march towards the grave and a dangerous sailing towards death through the bellowing waves of a troublesome world Labitur omnis homo momento extinguimur uno Namque oleo lampas deficiente perit Within the very crown that adornes the sacred temples of a King death hath his lurking den Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede Pauperum tabernas regumque turres Horat. A willing mind is able to steer a man against the streame of the strongest impediments Neither the shot of Accidēt nor dart of Chance penetrates the impregnable walls of a resolved Patience Love when his links are once crackt turns to the so wrest and most dismall Hate Sordid manners in a comely feature are like black clouds in a faire sky Outward perfection without inward goodnesse sets but the blacker die upon the minds deformity If the hand of Omnipotency should please to try us with all manner of affliction to lock us in the griping gins of misery to steep us in the dregs of poverty to rain down shame and defamation on our heads we are to fly onely in this depth of extremity to the safe sanctuarie of faith a good conscience which turne the bitter waters of affliction into the sweet Nectar of never dying comfort Goodness with a smiling patience shakes off the dust that is throwne in the face of her despised fortune Teares and smiles are not alwaies the badges of grief and patience There is no anger or sorow like to that which boyls with a constrained silence Thoughts tending to ambition are alwayes wont to plot unlikely wonders It is the easiest thing in the world to be invective and amongst all sorts of men none are so quick