food is plenty this ungratefull Dove Forgets her Noah and his former love Minds nothing but her selfe shee that before Did crouch unto thee Arke returnes no more Thou art that Noah Lord and Christ the boate Afflictions are the waters that doe floate Man is that wandring Dove that often flies Vnto his Christ for shelter else he dyes How apt are we good God to use our wings And flye to thee when all these outward things With floods are drowned up though we have bin So vile how apt art thou to catch us in O how our God when we have bin astray Puts forth his armes to meete us in the way And take us home we are no sooner in But by and by we flutter out agin This time by chance like Noahs Dove we see The upper branches of some Olive tree I meane some petty shelter still we flye Vnto our God for aide or else we dye How apt are we when outward things forsake us To haste to God how apt's our God to take us The third time we are gone now floods are husht The Sun confronting mountaines bravely washt The Seas give place the lowest vallies seene Yea all the earth most sweetly deckt in greene Now we forget our God and post away And after make an everlasting stay When worldly wealth comes in and we can rest Vpon the creature O how we detest Our former refuge if we find a Parke We ne're returne unto our wonted Arke A Meditation on a Shippe MArke how the floting vessell shewes her pride And is extold with every lofty tide But when it ebbes and all the floods retire See how the bragging barke is plungd in mire Iust so good God how apt are we to swim When mercies fill our banckes unto the brim When worldly wealth appeares and we can see Such outward blessings flow then who but we But when it ebbes and thou dost once unlinke These mercies from us O how soone we sinke Good God let not the great estate possesse Me with presumption nor despaire the lesse Let me not sinke when such an ebbe appeares No let me swim in true repentant teares A Meditation on a Windmill OBserve it alwaies t is the makers skill To place the windmill on the highest hill It stands unusefull till the potent windes Puffe up the lofty sayles and then it grinds Iust thus it is the hypocrite's the mill His actions sayles ambition is the hill The wind that drives him is a blast of fame If blowne with this he runnes if not hee 's tame He stirres not till a puffe of praise doth fill His sailes but then O how he turnes the mill Lord drive me with thy Spirit then I le be Thy windmill and will grind a grist for thee A Meditation on Organs HArke how the Organist most sweetely plaiēs His Psalmes upon the tone-divided Kayes Each touch a sound but if the hand don't come And strike the kayes how soon's the musicke dumbē A mod'rate stroke doth well but if too hard The Organ's broke and all the raptures mard I am that Organ Lord and thou alone Canst play each prayer is a pleasant tone Affliction is the hand that strikes the kayes O Lord from me the sweetest musicke raise If thou don't strike at all how can I speake Thy worthy prayses if too hard I breake Strike mildly Lord strike soft and then I le sing And charoll out the glory of my King A Meditation on an Apes love VVHen once the foolish Ape hath fild her nest With little brats there 's one among the rest Shee most affects to shelter this from harmes Shee alwayes hugges it in her wanton armes Vntill at length shee squeezeth out the breath Of this her fondling Loves the cause of death The World 's this wanton Ape that still delights In hugging some peculiar favourites Of those that are thus dandled by this Ape There doth not one among a thousand scape On contempt of the World A Loft O Soule soare up doe not turmoyle Thy selfe by grabbling on a dunghill soyle Tosse up thy wings and make thy soaring plumes Outreach the loathsome stench and noysome fumes That spring from sordid earth come come and see Thy birth and learne to know thy pedigree What wa st thou made of Clay or dost thou owe Homage to earth say is thy blisse below Dost know thy beauty dost thou not excell Can the Creation yeeld a parallel The world can't give a glasse to represent Thy shape and shall a durty element Bewitch thee thinke is not thy birth most high Blowne from the mouth of all the trinity The breath of all-creating Iove the best Of all his workes yea thee of all the rest He chose to be his Picture where can I But in thy selfe see Immortality 'Mong all his earthly creatures Thou art chiefe Of all his workes and shall the world turne theefe And steale away thy love wert not for thee The heav'n aspiring mountaine should not bee The heavens should have no glistring starre no light No Sunne to rule the day no Moone the night The Globe had bin 't was not the makers will To make it for it selfe a Chaos still Thou art Ioves priestly Aaron to present The creatures service while they give assent By serving thee why then 's the world thy rest 'T is but thy servants servant at the best It gives attendance to refined mire That Iove hath wrapt thee in as thy attire For what 's the body but a lumpe of clay Carv'd neatly out in which the soule beares sway T is servant to the soule what limbe can stirre Nay darst to quatch if once shee make demurre See how the captiv'd members trembling stand Wondrous submissive to her dire command O how the legs doe runne with eager flight To overtake the object of delight See how the armes doe graspe as if they 'd rent To hold the thing that gives the soule content Why what 's the body when the soule 's away Nought but a stincking carkasse made of clay What 's heav'n without a God or what 's the skye If once bright Phoebus close his radiant eye The world was for our bodies they for none But for our soules our soules for God alone What madnesse then for men of such a birth To nuzell all their dayes on dunghill earth Still hunting after with an eager sent An object which can never give content For what contentment in the world can lye That 's onely constant in inconstancy It ebbes and flowes each minuie thou maist brag This day of thousands and to morrow beg The greatest wealth is subject for to reele The globe is plac'd on Fortunes tottering wheele As when the gladding sunne begins to show And scatter all his golden beames below A churlish cloud soone meetes him in the way And sads the beauty of the smiling day Or as a stately ship a while behaves Herselfe most bravely on the slumbring waves And like a Swanne sailes nimbly in her pride The helpefull windes concording
dost thou expect that I should raise Thy glory with my voice the dumbe can't praise Vnscale my duskye eyes then I le expresse Thy glorious objects strong attractivenesse Dip thou my limbes in thy Bethesdaes lake I le scorne my earthly crutches I le forsake My selfe touch thou my tongue and then I le sing An Allelujah to my glorious King Raise me from this my grave then I shall be Alive and I le bestow my life on thee Till thou Eliah-like dost overspread My limbs l'me blind l'me lame I 'me dumbe I 'me dead The Melancholicke Soules comfort O That I had a sweete melodious voice O that I could obtaine the chiefest choice Of sweetest musicke pre-thee David lend Thy well-resounding harpe that I may send Some praises to my God I know not how To pay by songs my heart-resolved vow How shall I sing good God thou dost afford Ten thousand mercies trebled songs O Lord Cannot requite thee O that I could pay With lifetime songs the mercies of one day I oft beginne to sing and then before My songs halfe finisht God gives sense for more Alas poore soule art puzzeld canst not bring Thy God some honour though thou strive to sing The Cause is this thou art become his debter Hee le make thee play-on musicke that is better I Cannot play my sobs doe stop my course My grones doe make my musicke sound the worse What nought but grones ah shall th' Almighties eares Be fild with sighes all vsherd in with teares I this is musicke such a tune prolongs Gods love and makes him listen to thy songs T is this that makes his ravisht soule draw nigher T is this outstrips the Thracian with his Lyre T is this inchants thy God t is this alone That drags thy spouse from heaven to heare thy tone No better Musicke then thy sobs and cries If not a Davids harpe get Peters eyes The Soule in love with Christ. VVHat though my Love doth neate appeare And makes Aurora blush to see her Though nature paints her cheekes with red And makes proud Venus hide her head What though her crimson lips so mute Doe alwayes wooe a new salute What though her wanton eyes doe shine Like glistring starres and dazell mine T is Christ alone Shall be my owne T is him I will embrace T is he shall be A Spouse to me All beauty 's in his face What though the earth for me prepares A present from her golden Quarres And braggeth of her earely gaines Exhausted from her silver vaines What though shee shew her painted brates And bids me smell her Violates And deckes her selfe in spring attire To make my ravisht soule admire Yet all this shant My Soule inchant I le smile to see her pride I know where lies A better prize For Christ hath broch'd his side What though the world doth me invite And daily play the Parasite Or with her gilded tales intice Me to a seeming Paradise And paints her face and all day long Sits breathing out a Syrens song And shewes her pompe and then in fine Tells me that shee and hers are mine Yet none of this Shall be my blisse I le scorne the painted whore I will deride Her and her pride For Christ is this and more What though insinuating pleasure Preferres me to her chiefest treasure And every day and every night Doth feede me with a new delight And slumbers me with lullaby Dandling me on her whorish thigh What though with her sublime pretencēs Shee strives t' imprison all my senses Yet shee shant be A trap to me Her freedome is but thrall Her greatest coy Will but annoy Till Christ doth sweeten all Or what though profit with her Charmes Grasping the world within her armes Vnlades her selfe and bids me see What paines shee takes and all for me And then invites me to her bower Filling my coffers every houre What though shee thus inlarge my store With every day a thousand more Yet let her packe And turne her backe Her purest gold's but-drosse Her greatest paines Produce no gaines Till Christ come all is losse Or what though Fortune should present Her high Olympicke regiment And never my Ambition checke But still be pliant to my becke What though she lends me wings to flie Vnto the top of Dignity And make proud Monarches with her wheele Vncrowne their heads to Crowne my heele I le not depend On such a friend T is Christ is all my stay Shee can revoke The highest spoke Her wheeles turnd every day Let none of these in me take place Fond Venus hath a Vulcans face And so till heaven be pleasd to smile Poore earth sits barren all the while The world that 's apt to winne a foole It is my burden not my stoole Nor pleasure shall enchant my mind Shee s smooth before but stings behind I will disdaine Their greatest gaine And fortun 's but a feather T is none of these Can give me ease But Christ's the same for ever Lord why hidest thou thy face from me VVHat drowsie weather 's this the angry skies Doe threaten stormes and heav'n it selfe denies Her lovely visage ah these darkned dayes Doe make my vitals drowsie and decayes My soules delight good God can I controule Or drive these pensive humours from my soule Ah no I can't my lively spirits keepe Such drowsie weather 's fit for nought but sleepe O thou eternall light that hast the sway In Ioves broad wals thouscepter of the day Thou heav'ns bright torch thouglistring worlds bright eye Why dost thou hide and so obscurely lye Come wrap thy selfe in thy compleate attire Shew forth thy glory make my soule admire Thy splendor come and doe no longer stay But with thy glorious beames bestrow my way Extirpe these foggy mists from out mine eyes That I may plainly see where heaven lyes Then I le awake sweete Christ doe thou display Thy glittering beames send out a Summers day I 'le rub my slumbring eyes O then I 'le roame A life-time journey from my native home The soule will sleepe and can't hold up her eyes Vntill the sunne of righteousnesse arise Christs Resurrection COme Rise my heart thy Master 's risen Why slug'st thou in thy grave Dost thou not know he broke the prison Thou art no more a slave He rowled of the sealed stone That once so pondrous lay And left the watchmen all alone And bravely scapt away When flesh the world and Satan too Wont suffer thee to quatch Learne of thy Master what to doe And cozen all the watch Let not these clogging earthly things Make thee poore soule forsake him Goe ask of Faith she 'le lend thee wings Haste fly and overtake him But harke my soule I 'le tell thee where Thy Master sits in state Goe knocke at heavens dore for there He entred in of late If Peter now had kept the key Thou mightst get in with ease But Iustice onely beares the sway And le ts in whom shee please Shee 's wondrous sterne
did not dare Surpasse their stations nay nor once impaire Their bounds he quickly queld their lusty prankes And causd the waves to crouch within their bankes When he had conquerd this unruly stran Within two dayes he crownes Leviathan King of the liquid region and doth give Ten thousand thousand more with him to live Then fruitfull earth which is the Ocean barres Appeares and heavens bespangled all with starres The Sunne begins his beauty to present And proudly danceth up the Orient He nor his horses can no longer sleepe But gallop from the orientall deepe He rid so fast that in few houres was spide All bravely wrapt in his meridian pride But when he clamber'd to the highest brinke He view'd the fabricke then began to sinke And all the way as hee did homewards goe He laughed to see so brave a frame below Still whipping on his Iades untill his head Was safely laid into his Westerne bed Silver Lucina as yet did not enter But lay immured within the reeking center Whilst he had mounted on his flaming seate And viewd a glorious orbe wondrous compleate With that the purple Lady straight prepares Attended with ten thousand thousand starres Shee clambers up in this her rich aray And viewes the goodly building all the way Sweete smiles shee cast from her admiring eye Whilst all her little babes stood twinkling by Playing the wantons by their mothers side As if they were inamour'd with the pride Of such a Fabricke to expresse their mirth Some shot from heaven as though they 'd live on Earth This done sweete Phoebe soone beganne to drop Her borrowed beames into her brothers lap And ever since to see this glorious sight One laughes at day the other smiles at night And can you blame them earth is spread with bowres And trees and proudly deckt with sundry flowers Shee that ere while in dunghill Chaos lay Is now with Vi'lets purp'ld every day And damaskt all with Roses yea shee s clad With sweeter herbes then ever Ceres had Her fruitfull wombe brings forth most dainty cates And lovely fruites these are her comely brattes No rusticke Plowman now doth take the paines To peirce her entrailes or to squeeze her veines But heaven and shee unites they scorne to see A bastard weede disgrace their pedigree Shee 's overspread with pinkes and Daffadillies Carnations Roses and the whitest Lilies Those fondlings lolling in her armes doe lye Shaking their heads and in her bosome dye These in their mothers sides doe take their rest Till they doe drop their leaves into her brest And now the little birds doe every day Sit singing in the boughs and chirpe and play The Phesant and the Partridge slowly flye Vndaunted even before the Faulcons eye Now comes Behemoth with his Lordly gate Gazing as if he stood admiring at So rich a frame first having fixt his sight On glorious earth he alwayes tooke delight In viewing that and would not looke on high Nay all the glorious spangles of the skye Could not entice him ever from his birth He spent his time in looking on the earth All other beasts their greedy eyes did fling On lovely earth as did their crowned King Yea now the Lion with the Lambe did goe And knew not whether blood were sweete or no The little Kids to shew their wanton pride Came dancing by the loving Tigers side The Hare being minded with the Hounds to play Would give a sporting touch and so away And then returne being willing to be found And take his turne to chace the wanton Hound The busie Mice sat sporting all the day Meane while the Cat did smile to see them play The Foxe stands still to see the Geese asleepe The harmelesse Wolfe now grazeth with the Sheepe Here was no raping but all beasts did lye As link'd in one O Heavenly Sympathy The goodly Pastures springing from the Clay Did wooe their mouthes to banquet all the way Was spread with dainty herbes and as they found Occasion they would oft salute the ground Those uncontrouled creatures then begunne To sport and all lay basking in the Sunne No creature was their Lord gainesaid by none As if that Heaven and earth were all their owne Thus when this mighty builder did inrobe Himselfe with night and Chaos to a globe Convert of this he tooke a serious view And did as t were create it all anew He made a little Orbe cald man the same Onely compacted in a lesser frame For what is all this all that man in one Doth not enjoy A man that 's onely blowne With heavens breath a man that doth present Life Spirit sense and every element Yea in this little world great Iove did place His glorious Image and this miry face Was heavens picture t was this face alone That still lookt up to his Creators throne Then God did make a place to be admir'd Surely t was heaven it selfe had then conspir'd To finde it out a garden sweetly blowne With pleasant fruite and man's exempt from none Of all these plants except a middle tree And what can one among a thousand bee O glorious place that God doth now provide For durty clay the earth in all her pride He tramples on and heav'n that 's so beset With spangles and each glistring Chrysolet Doth give attendance yea it serves to be A covering for his head his Canopie Thus man of heaven and earth is all possest This span of durt is Lord of all the rest Me think's I see how all the Creatures bring Their severall Congies to their new made King Behemoth which ere while did range about Vncheckt and tossing up his bony snowt Feard none now having cast his rowling eyes Vpon his Lord see how he crouching lyes Behind a sheltring bush he seemes to be Imploring aide of every spreading tree The Lyon which ere while was in his pride Squinting by chance his gogle-eyes aside Espies his King he dares not stay for haste Spues out his meate halfe chaw'd and will not taste Of his intended food but sneakes away Counting his life to be his chiefest prey It was but now the raven was espide Sporting her wings upon the Tigars hide But now O how her feather'd say les doe soare As if shee vowd to touch the earth no more See how the Goates doe clamber to the top Of highest mountaines and the Conies drop Into their holes see how the Roebucke flings himselfe almost exchanging legs for wings Why what 's the matter that ye haste away Ye that ere while were sporting all the day Tell me yee Creatures say what fearefull sight Hath put you to this unexpected flight Speake speake thou giddy lambe wer 't not thou spide At play but now why then dost skip aside What is it man that frights you can his face Stretch out your legs unto their swiftest pace Can one looke daunt you all what neede this bee Are ye not made of Clay as well as hee Have ye not one Creator are ye not His elder Brothers
too among the beasts He that before was wont to take his rest All coverd in his fathers silken breast Is now constrained to lay his worthy head Vpon an undeserved strawy bed He that was wont to heare the pleasant tones Of sweete-voyc'd Angels now the saddest grones Of dolefull Mary mixt with brinish teares These onely these are harbour'd in his eares The Babe is scarcely borne but sought to dye As yet not learn'd to goe but forc'd to flye And to avoid the Tetrarchs furious Curse Hard hearted Egypt's now become a Nurse He that can make both Heaven and earth to dread Loe patiently takes all and hides his head Yet hee 'le returne no not the bitter wrongs Nor spightfull usage nor the smarting thongs Nor sharpest scourges no nor blackest hell Can quench the boundlesse love nor yet expell His strong affections let the traitors set A thorny crowne on 's head and also wet His glorious face with spittle and deride And scourge till blood falls trickling downe his side Nay though he be constrain'd to leave his breath And 's dying soule is heavy unto death He can't but smile upon his bitter foe And love the traitors whe're they will or no Yet see how sordid man repayeth all His kindnesse with an undeserved thrall Whil'st he sad soule lay prostrate all alone Fast fixing both his eyes at heavens throne And sending up such sighes as though he 'd make The weakned vaults of heaven and earth to shake His sweate dropt downe like dew and as he stood He staind Mount Olives with his Crimson blood Whilst all his sad Disciples drowsy lye Scarce able to hold up a sluggish eye Now he 's betraid by Iudas he that bore The bagge and was intrusted with the store He that did scorne the traitors name and cry Who shall betray thee Lord Lord speake is 't I Yet now an abject Christ becomes to be And thirty pence is valu'd more then he The bloody steward with a treacherous kisse Forsooke his Master and eternall blisse And sould the body of a Lord so good To souldiers such as thirsted after blood And then for feare the Innocent should passe Vntoucht was straight accused by Caiaphas Condemn'd by Pontius Pilate to expell The guilt he washt his hands and all was well O see what force weake water had to quench His sparkling Conscience and his flaming sence Alas not Nilus no nor Iordans flood Can cleanse the staines of such a Crimson blood No t is the streames of a repenting eye T is onely this takes out a scarlet dye Thus our Astrea stands arraign'd to dye And nothing's to be heard but Crucifye When this alarum sounded to the hight And heav'n and hell conspired both to fight Against this Captaine then his daunted troope Forsooke their Lord each soule began to droope Yet gracious he imparted his renowne He wonne the battell and gave them the Crowne Yea he became a curse that knew no sinne He was inrob'd and disinrob'd ag'in His temples crown'd with thornes his glorious face Was spit upon and beate with all disgrace That abject slaves could use and then they cry To blinded Christ who beate thee prophecy Ah stupid soules as if that piercing sight That viewes all secrets in the darkest night That tries the thoughts of every heart and stares Into each soule is now as blind as theirs Thus was he basely us'd but all 's not done The hell-invented fury is to come By vulgar slaves the very Sonne of God Is falsely scourg'd and forc'd to kisse the rod Yea he whose nostrils able are to cast Out flame and burne the world at every blast Whose mighty breath is able for to fanne Ten thousand worlds and puffe out every man Like chaffe and make the flanting world to tosse Like waves is now compeld to beare his crosse Whereon his body in a vulgar streete Hung naked pierc'd with nayles both hands and feete The well of water he that gave the first To all his creatures now 's himselfe a thirst Yea he to whom all thirsty creatures call For drinke must now drinke vinegar with gall They pierc'd his side from whence came watry blood More soveraigne farre then all Bethesda's flood These tyrants thus though to themselves denide Did make a way to heaven through his side Alas my muse for sighes can scarce prolong The fatall tuning of so dire a song To see heavens faire Idea seeme so foule Sobbing and sighing out his burdned soule Those eyes which now seeme dim were once so bright From hence it was that Phoebus begd his light Those armes which now hang weake did from their birth Support the tottring vaults of heaven and earth That tongue that now lyes speechlesse in his head A word of that would soone revive the dead One touch of those Pale fingers would suffice To heale the sicke and make the dead man rise Those legges which now are peircd by abject slaves were kindly entertaind amongst the waves The coate whose warmth did give his sides reliefe The hem the very hem could cure a griefe But now strength's weake th'omnipotent's a crying For aid health's sicke and life it self 's a dying His head hangs drooping and his eyes are fixt His weakned armes growne pale the sunne's eclipst O boundlesse love thus thus thou didst expose Thy selfe to damned paines to save thy foes Hell fought against him heaven began to frowne And justice soone sent vengeance posting downe Who clad with fury being angry shakes Her ugly head whose haire doth nurture snakes Shee layes about her greedy of her prey Quencheth her thirst with blood and so away And mercy now lies cover'd in a cloud And will not heare although his sighes are loud Although his cries are such that cause a stone To heare yet sinne makes heav'n forget her owne Heav'n frownes as if shee had her owne forgot Mercy lookes off as if shee knew him not He suffred paines that hell it selfe devisd So much that justice cride I am suffic'd His tortures were so high so great so sore That hell cride out I can inflict no more Which done the heavens closd up their lamping light And turn'd the day into a dismall night Bright Phoebus vaild his face and would not see Wormes actors of so bloody treachery And quivering earth her wonted rigour lackt And straight stood trembling at so dire a fact The buri'd Saints arose to see betwixt Two dusky clouds their glorious Sunne eclipst Thus heav'n it selfe with the terrestriall Ball ' Doth joyne to celebrate his funerall The Landlord of the globe who first did raise Earths fabricke was a tenant for three dayes But when once Christ did cease to be turmoyld Heaven and he was gladly reconcil'd Mercy came dancing from the angry denne Tost off her cloudy mantle smild againe Pearch'd on her brightest throne and makes a vow To smooth the wrinckled furrowes of her brow And grim fac'd vengeance shee that 's onely fed With poyson dares not shew her snaky head For feare all
with the tide To mend her pace but by and by the wind The fretfull Seas the heav'ns and all combin'd Against this bragging barke O how they fling Her corkey sides to heaven and then they bring Her backe shee that ere while did sayle so brave Cutting the floods now 's tost with every wave Iust so the waving world gives joy and sorrow This day a Croesus and a Iob to morrow How often have I seene the miser blesse Himselfe in wealth and count it for no lesse Then his adored God straight comes a frowne Flying from unhappy fate and whirleth downe Him and his heapes of gold and all that prize Is lost which he but now did Idolize But grant the world as never 't will to be A thing most sure most full of constancy What is thy wealth unlesse thy God doth blesse Thy store and turne it to a happinesse What though thy Table be compleatly spread With farre-fetcht dainties and the purest bread That fruitfull earth can yeeld all this may bee If thou no stomacke hast what 's all to thee What though thy habitation should excell In beauty and were Edens parallel Thou being pesterd with some dire disease How can thy stately dwelling give thee ease Thy joyes will turne thy griefe thy freedome thrall Vnlesse thy God above doth sweeten all When thou poore soule liest ready to depart And hear'st thy Conscience snarling at thine heart Though heapes of gold should in thy coffers lye And all thy worthlesse friends stand whining by 'T is none 't is none of these can give thee health But thou must languish in the midst of wealth Then cease thou mad man and pursue no more The world and know shee 's but a painted whore Thou catchest shadowes labourst in thy dreames And thirst's amongst th' imaginary streames A Meditation on a meane LOrd in excesse I see there often lies Great dangers and in wants great miseries Send me a meane doe thou my wayes preserve For I may surfet Lord as well as starve On Sathans tempting Eve ARt thou turn'd Fencer Sathan prethee say Surely thou art not active at thy play Challenge a Woman fie thou art to blame Suppoâ—e thou getst the day thou getst no fame But prethee speake hast any cause to prate Thou bruis'd her heele what though shee broke thy pate On a Spunge THe Spunge it selfe drinkes water till it swell it But never empties till some strength expell it Lord of our selves we 're apt to soake in sinne But thou art faine to squeeze it out agin On Cain and Abels offerings ARt angry Cain what doe thy thoughts repine Is Abels offring better tooke then thine Didst not thou bring thy God a lovely prize And crowne his Altar with a sacrifice Art not thou elder did not thy offring too Come from thy God what more could Abell doe I le tell thee Cain how Abel got the start He with his offring offered up his heart On an Apprentices Boxe THe Prentise after all his yearely paines Filleth his small mouth'd box with Christmas gaines Yet though he fill his box unto the brim Vnlesse he breake it up what 's all to him A miser's such a Boxe that 's nothing worth Till death doth breake it up then all comes forth Convert good God or strike with some disease Breake up such small mouth'd boxes Lord as these On Eves Apple EVE for thy fruite thou gav'st too deare a price What for an Apple give a Paradise If now a dayes of fruite such gaines were made A Costermonger were a devillish trade On a faire house having ill passage to it A House to which the builders did impart The full perfection of their curious art Most bravely furnisht in whose roomes did lye Footeclothes of Velvet and of tapestry I wondred at as who could not but doe it To see so rough so hard a passage to it So Lord I know thy heaven 's a glorious place Wherein the beauty of thy glistring face Inlightens all thou in the wals dost fixe The Iasper and the purest sardonyx Thy gates are pearles and every dore beset With Saphires Emeralds and the Chrysolet Each Subject weares a crowne the which he brings And flings it downe to thee the King of Kings But why 's the way so thorny t is great pitty The passage is no wider to thy Citty Poore Daniel through his den and Shadrake's driven With his associates through the fire to Heaven But yet we can't complaine we may recall The time to minde when there was none at all T' was Christ that made this way and shall we be Who are his Servants farre more nice then he No I le adventure too nay I le get in I le tracke my Captaine thorow thicke and thin FINIS The Chaos