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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A66468 Heaven the end of man or, Final cause of the soul's spirit. By William Williams, teutonico-philosopho-theologus Williams, William, Inferior Brother to the venerable and orthodox clergy. 1696 (1696) Wing W2788; ESTC R220009 89,464 156

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Spirit I was but now bathing in a River of Wine But what 's the Matter What are these qualms upon my Stomack They seem now to revenge my out-daring of Bacchus's Foes because I was not a fit Souldier for his Service Therefore his Chirurgion hath given me some of his Pills which now I cast up by filthy Vomitings and Spewings Sure he will give me a Foil at Wrestling Thus I shall stumble over the Dead and reel into a Grave of Worms and Serpents who will be drunk with my Blood Therefore O thou naturally found and healthful Spirit of Man The Luxurious is as full of Diseases as an Hospital For as the Night doth call him to the Supper of Surfeit And as the Morning doth rouze him to his Breakfast He languisheth in the hunger of his Lust making but one Meal a Day Until he hath glutted himself with the Dainties of his Delights And thus eating He wipeth his Mouth in a Corner Accompanied with his Drunken Hostess Whose Body is a Pit of Poyson But to touch it is danger of Death Therefore rather than Dine on her Delicates do thou mingle thy Meat with Mourning §. 6. For spoiling the Souls Sport THen comes a Third the sluggish Harlot come my Dear saith she we will go to the Gaming-house or if thou please to the Temple of the Gods where we will send for the blind Lover our Captive to make us some Sport We will have Musick and Dancing We will wheel about our God Now our Bellies are glutted with the butcherly and bloody Sacrifice of Beasts we will rise up to Play We will lye upon Beds of Ivory and stretch our selves upon our Lazy Couches We will chant to the sound of the Viol And invent to our selves Instruments of Musick like David the sweet Psalmist of Israel We will sing his Psalms in Canting and Mocking of God But O Man consider Give not thy Heart to the Musick of false Mirth Tremble to tread in the Tracks of it Use the Cross as thy Crutches to bear thee upright in the Way Nail the Flesh to the Fashion thereof And the Spirit shall save the Soul Give not sleep O Man to thine Eyes nor slumber to thine Eye-lids Vntil thou find an Habitation for thy self with thy Virgin For thou art born to a good Fortune When O Sluggard wilt thou awake from thy sleep The Day is far spent Go to the Ant● Consider her ways and be wise at last If not this Harlot hath prepared a Net of Mischief to ensnare thee She will hunt thee into her Pit As thou didst drive the Beasts of thy own Image into the Nooze to be slain So she will draw thee as a Beast into the depth of her Dungeon But the Counsel of the Virgi● is the safety of De●ence Which delivers thee from the sweep of her Dragg It saves thee from sliding in the slippery Places And stablisheth thy standing on the Rock Avoid Her that enticeth into every treacherous Trap And allureth into the Doors of Destruction She polisheth her Parlour with artificial carved Images and with the works of most curious Limners Her Entry inviteth with the Odors of Perfumes But her Bed is the Infection of Plague Her Breath is the Contagion of Death And her Breasts the Bottles of Bane He that layeth his Head to repose between them shall be smothered in a deep sleep Enter thou not into the Doors of her House Lest her allurements should murder thy simplicity For she will entice thee with all things that are lovely to the Eye But her purpose is to an end of Slaughter Mark the Line of her Path And behold whom she catcheth with her Hook He that studies the steps of her Feet runs swift to the Doom of Destruction But he that seeks deliverance from her Door shall dwell in the Temple of God He shall draw to a Rest from the Travel of Iniquity which shall compass his Soul with Salvation If this will not do then comes another the Crafty Witch Saying come to my School and I will make thee a Necromancer I will teach thee all the Philosophical Learning of the World and the highest Contemplation of things Thou shalt understand how the Worlds Wheel is rolled about And how the Chain of Eternity is entangled by an indissolvable Band So thou shalt be accounted the Wise Magus among the People O! I will not do so saith the right Spirit of the Soul I am afraid of the Deep of Deeps Lest I fall headlong into the Abyss and by searching and seeking the Universal Tincture I may get a wound in my Soul and then I shall be sent to finish my Contemplation in a Circle of Misery Therefore O Man be wise This false Wisdom is a snare of Death which is hid from the Eye of Man He seeth not her mischievous End Because she hath made his Day a Curse She bewitched by enchantments a couple in Paradise and dragged them from Life to Death And bolted their Generations within the Doors of Darkness And locked them from the Light of the Day Beware therefore lest she lead thee by her subtle Art and Serpentine Wisdom To taste of the Tree of Knowledge of Evil and Good Whose Fruit is desirable to make one wise And to open the Eyes of Curiosity §. 7. For hindering the Propagation of the Species BUT anon the Amazonian shews her self whose hand is against every one and every ones hand against her She will accompany thee in a Virile Garb to the Field of Mars and lead thee to Akeldama She will beat Plough-shares into Swords and perfume thy Nostrils with the stink of her murdering Powder She will perswade thee to cut off many of thy fellow-Creatures as a mighty Hunter of Men before the Lord as if the Earth were too narrow to maintain such a numberless number of Men in the same world saying Keep up thy Pomp gallantly and oppress all monyless Wretches and Widows Make many Martyrs by thy Sword of Cruelty and Rigour Search for the p●ths which the Lyons Whelps have not trodden and which the Vultures Eye hath not seen For there is a Vein for the Silver and a Place for the hidden Treasures of Gold But the Martial Iron is Lord of both Dig therewith into the Bowels of thy Fellow-Offspring and see if the Golden Mine be there or no. If any oppose thee see here I give thee these snaky Hairs as so many Furies in the Conscience O no I had rather saith the Souls Spirit dwell in the Corner of a poor Cottage in content and quietness than with a brawling Whore such as thou art in a wide Habitation I had rather sleep in a whole Skin than to boast of Wounds and Scars upon my Body Let Cyrus if he like it glut himself in his Bowl of Blood I love not his Mess I am weary with such Sacrifices This Martial Strumpet drags the Valiant by the Nose and the Lofty by the Fore-lock Yea the Mighty do plunge in her Bloody