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A10260 A feast for vvormes Set forth in a poeme of the history of Ionah. By Fra. Quarles. Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644. 1620 (1620) STC 20544; ESTC S115474 43,861 108

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liue yet And yet liue in pleasure Alas could Sinners finde out ne'r a one More fit then Thee for them to spit vpon Did thy cheekes entertaine a Traytors lips Was thy deare body scourg'd and torne with whips So that the guiltlesse blood came trickling after And did thy fainting browes sweat blood and water Wert thou Lord hang'd vpon the Cursed Tree O world of Griefe And was all this for mee ¶ Burst foorth my teares into a world of sorrow And let my nights of griefe ne'r finde a morrow Since thou art dead Lord grant thy seruant roome Within his heart to build thy heart a Tombe Fraus Mundi 3 ¶ WHat is the World A great Exchange of ware Wherein all sorts and sexes cheapning are The Flesh the Diuell sit and cry What lack ye When most they fawne they most intend to rack ye The wares are Cups of Ioy and Beds of Pleasure There 's goodly choice downe weight and flowing measure A Soul 's the price but they giue time to pay Vpon the Death-bed on the dying Day ¶ Hard is the Bargaine and vniust the Measure When as the Price so much out-lasts the Pleasure The Ioyes that are on earth are Counterfeits If ought be true 't is this Th' are true Deceits They flatter fawne and like the Crocadile Kill where they laugh and murther where they smile They daily dip within thy Dish and Cry Who hath betray'd thee Mastre Is it I Gloria Coeli 4 ¶ WHen I behold and well aduise vpon The Wisemans speech There 's nought beneath the Sun But vanitie my Soule rebells within And loaths the Dunghill-prison she is in But when I looke to new Ierusalem Wherein 's reseru'd my Crowne my Diadem O what a Heauen of blisse my Soule enioyes On sudden rapt into that heauen of Ioyes Where rauisht in the depth of meditation She well discernes with Eye of Contemplation The Glory of God in his Imperiall Seat Full strong in Might in Maiestie compleat Where troups of Powers Vertues Cherubins Angels Archangels Saints and Seraphins Are chaunting praises to their heauenly King Where Halelujah they for euer sing Dolor Inferni 5 ¶ LEt Poets please to torture Tantalus Let gryping Vultures gnaw Prometheus And let Ixion turne his endlesse Wheele Let Nemesis torment with whips of Steele They far come short t' expresse the paines of those That rage in Hell enwrapt in endlesse woes Where time no end nor plagues finde no exemption Where cryes admit no helpe nor place redemption Where fier lacks no flame the flame no heate To make their torments sharp and plagues compleat Where wretched Soules to tortures bound shall bee Seruing a world of yeeres and not be Free Where nothing's heard but yells and sudden cryes Where fier neuer slakes nor Worme e'r dyes But where this Hell is plac'd my Muse stop there Lord shew me what it is but neuer where 1 Mors tua ¶ CAn he be Faire that withers at a Blast Or he be Strong that Ayery Breath can cast Can he be Wise that knowes not how to liue Or he be Rich that nothing hath to giue Can he be Yong that 's Feeble Weake and Wan So Faire so Strong so Wise so Rich so Yong is Man So Faire is Man that Death a parting Blast Crops his faire Flow'r and makes him Earth at last So Strong is Man that with a Gasping Breath He totters and bequeaths his Strength to Death So Wise is Man that if with Death he striue His Wisdome cannot teach him how to liue So Rich is Man that all his Debts b'ing pay'd His wealth 's the Winding-sheet wherein hee 's lay'd So Yong is Man that broke with Care and Sorrow Hee 's old enough to Day to Dye to Morrow Why bragg'st thou then Thou Worme of Fiue foot-long Th' art neither Faire nor Strong nor Wise nor Rich nor Yong. 2 Mors Christi I Thurst And who shall quench this Eager Thurst I Grieue And with my griefe my Heart will Burst I Grieue because I thurst without Reliefe I Thurst because my Soule is burnt with Griefe I thurst And dri'd with Griefe my Heart will Dye I Grieue and thurst the more For Sorrow's drie The more I grieue the more my thurst appeares Would God! I had not grieu'd out all my teares I Thurst And yet my Griefes haue made a Floud But Teares are salt I Grieue and Thurst for Bloud I Grieue for Bloud for Bloud must send Reliefe I Thurst for Bloud for Bloud must ease my Griefe I Thurst for sacred Bloud of a Deare Lambe I Grieue to thinke from whence that Deare Blood came 'T was shed for Mee O let me drinke my fill Although my Griefe remaine Entier still O soueraigne Pow'r of that Vermilion SPRING Whose Vertue neither Heart conceiues nor Tongue can sing 3 Fraus Mundi I Loue the World as Clients loue the Lawes To manage the vprightnes of my Cause The World loues me as Sheepheards doe their Flocks To Rob and spoyle them of their fleecy Locks I loue the World and vse it as mine Inne To bait and rest my tyred Carkasse in The World loues me For what To make her Game For filthy Sinne she sels me timely Shame Foorth from her Eyes doe Springs of Venome burst But like a Basiliske I 'le see her first And this my firme intended Course shall be To poyson her or she will poyson me We liue at Iarres as froward Gamesters doe Still guarding not Regarding others Foe I loue the World to serue my turne and leaue her 'T is no Deceit to Coozen a Deceiuer Shee 'l not misse me I lesse the World shall misse To lose a World of Griefe t' enioy a World of Blisse 4 Gloria Coeli EArth stands immou'd and Fixt Her Cituation Admits no locall Change no Alteration HEAVEN alway moues renuing still his place And euer sees vs with another Face EARTH standeth Fixt yet there I liue opprests HEAVEN alway moues yet there is all my Rest Enlarge thy selfe my SOVLE with Meditation Mount there and there bespeake thy Habitation Where Ioyes are full and pure not mixt with mourning All Endlesse and from which is no returning No Theft no Cruell Murther harbours there No Hoary-headed Care no sudden Feare No pinching Want no Griping fast Oppression Nor Death the stipend of our soule Transgression But dearest Friendship Loue and lasting Pleasure Aye there abides withouten stin● or Measure Fulnesse of Riches Comfort sempeternall Excesse without a surfeiting And Life Eternall 5 Dolor Inferni THe Trump shall blow The Dead awak'd shall rise And to the Clouds shall turne their wondring Eyes The Heauen shall ope The Bridegroome foorth shall come To iudge the World and giue the World her Doome Ioy to the IVST to others Endlesse SMART To those the Voyce bids COME to these DEPART DEPART from LIFE yet dying liue for Euer For Euer dying be and yet Dye Neuer DEPART like Dogs with DIVELS take your lot DEPART like DIVELS for I know you not Like
full of teares To weepe in secret for her sinnes Thine eares Shall heare such things wil make thine eyes run ouer Thine eyes shall smart with what they shall discouer Spend not in priuate those thy zealous drops But hew and hacke spare neither trunke nor lops Make heauen earth rebound whē thou discharges Plead not like Paul but roare like Boanarges Let not the beauty of the buildings bleare thee Nor let the terrours of the Rampiers feare thee Let no man bribe thy fist I well aduise thee Nor foule meanes force thee nor let faire entice thee Ramme vp thine eares Thy heart of stone shall bee Be deafe to them as they are deafe to thee Goe cry against it If they aske thee Why Say God of heauen commanded thee to cry In stead of prayers and duties they should doe me Behold their wickednesse is mounted to me The fatnesse of their fornication fryes On coales of raging lust and vpward flies And makes me sicke I heare the mournfull grones And heauy sighs of such whose aking bones Th' oppressor grindes Alas their grones implore me Their pray'rs and their oppressions come before me Behold my children they haue slaine and kill'd And bath'd their hands within the blood they spill'd The steame of guiltlesse blood makes suit vnto me The voice of many bloods is mounted to me The vile prophaner of my sacred Names He teares my titles and mine honour maimes Makes Reth'rick of an oath sweares and forsweares Recks not my Mercy nor my Iudgement feares They eat they drink they sleepe they tyre the Day In wanton dalliance and delightfull play Heauens winged Herald Ionas vp and goe To mighty Niniueh Denounce my woe Aduance thy voice and when thou hast aduanc't it Spare Shrub nor Cedar but cry out against it I come my Selfe with plagues Goe thou afore me For all their wickednesse is come before me Apolog. Authoris IT was my morning Muse And for her sake I thus apply my selfe to vndertake This serious taske A taske for Doctors Muse To spend vpon Then let me pleade excuse For as good Physicke will not bate his force And being well appli'd prooue ne're the worse Though giuē by hands that could nor reade nor write That skill not how nor need not know t'apply't So this perchance may make another keene Though I and it be blunt as whetstones beene Applicatio TO thee Malfido now I turne my Quill That God is still that God and will be still The painfull Pastors take vp Iona's roome And thou the Niniuite to whom they come Meditatio prima HOw great 's the loue of God vnto his creature Or is his Wisedome or his Mercy greater I know not whether O th' exceeding loue Of highest God! that from his Throne aboue Will send the brightnesse of his Grace to those That grope in Darknesse and his Grace oppose He helpes prouides inspires and freely giues As pleas'd to see vs rauell out our liues He giues vs from the heape He measures not Nor deales like Manna each his stinted lot But daily sends the Doctors of his Spouse With such like oyle as from the Widowes cruse Issued forth in fulnesse without wasting Where plenty may be had yet plenty lasting I there is care in heauen and heauenly sprights That guides the world guards poore mortall wights There is else were the miserable state Of Man more wretched and vnfortunate Than sauage beasts But O th' abounding loue Of highest God! whose Angels from aboue Dismount the Towre of Blisse fly to and fro Assisting wretched man their deadly foe What thing is Man that Gods regard is such Or why should he loue retchlesse Man so much Why what are men But quicken'd lumps of earth A feast for wormes A bubble full of mirth A looking-glasse for griefe A flash A minnit A painted Toombe with putrifaction in it A mappe of Death A burthen of a song A winters Dust A worme of fiue foot long Begot in sinne In darknesse nourisht Borne In sorrow Naked Shiftlesse and forlorne His first voice heard is crying for reliefe Alas He comes into a world of griefe His Age is sinfull and his Youth is vaine His life 's a punishment his Death 's a paine His life 's an howre of Ioy a world of Sorrow His death 's a winters night that findes no morrow Mans life's an Houreglasse which being run Concludes that houre of Ioy and so is dun ¶ Ionah must goe Nor is this charge alone To Ionah giuen but giuen to euery one You Magistrates arise and take delight In dealing Iustice and maintaining right There lies your Nineueh Merchants arise Away and to your Ships and Merchandise Artificers arise and ply your shops And worke your trade and eate your meat with drops Paul to thy Tents and Peter to thy Net And all must goe that way which God hath set ¶ Grant liefest Lord for our Deare Borrow sake Thy loue in sending to vs neuer slake Encrease succession in thy Prophets liew For loe thy Haruest's great and Workmen few THE ARGVMENT But Ionah toward Tharsis went A Tempest doth his course preuent The Mariners are sore opprest While Ionah sleepes and takes his rest Sect. 2 BVt Ionah thus bethought The City's great And mighty Ashur stands with deadly threat Their hearts are hardned that they cannot heare Will greene wood burne when so vnapt's the seire Strange is the charge Shall I goe to a place Vnknowne and forraine Aye me hard 's the case That righteous Isr'el must be thus neglected When Miscreants and Gentiles are respected How might I hope my words shall there succeed Which thriue not with the flocke I daily feed Moreo're I weet the Lord is wondrous kind And slow to wrath and apt to change his mind Vpon the least repentance Then shall I Be deem'd as false and shame my Prophesie O heauie burthen of a doubtfull mind Where shall I goe or which way shall I wind My heart like Ianus looketh to and fro My Credit bids me Stay my God bids Goe If Goe my labour 's lost my shame 's at hand If Stay Lord I transgresse my Lords command If goe from bad estate to worse I fall If stay I slide from bad to worst of all My God bids goe my credit bids me stay My guilty feare bids fly another way So Ionah straight arose himselfe bedight With fit acoutrements for hasty flight In stead of staffe he tooke a Shipmans weed In stead of going loe he flies with speed Like as a Hawke that ouermatcht with might Doing sad penance for th' vnequall fight Answ'ring the Faulkners second shout does flee From fist turnes tayle to Fowle and takes a tree So Ionah baulks the place where he was sent To Nineueh and downe to Iaffa went He sought enquired and at last he found A welcome Ship that was to Tharsis bound Where he may fly the presence of the Lord He makes no stay but straightway goes aboord His hasty