never tast deaths woe But let them sleepe Lord and mee mourne a space For if above all these my sinnes abound 'T is late to aske abundance of thy grace When wee are there here on this lowly ground Teach mee how to repent for that 's as good As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood V. If poysonous mineralls and if that tree Whose fruit threw death on else immortall us If lecherous goats if serpents envious Cannot be damn'd Alas why should I bee Why should intent or reason borne in mee Make sinnes else equall in mee more heinous And mercy being easie and glorious To God in his sterne wrath why threatens hee But who am I that dare dispute with thee O God Oh! of thine onely worthy blood And my teares make a heavenly Lethean flood And drowne in it my sinnes blacke memorie That thou remember them some claime as debt I thinke it mercy if thou wilt forget VI. Death be not proud though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull for thou art not soe For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not poore death nor yet canst thou kill mee From rest and sleepe which but thy pictures bee Much pleasure then from thee much more must flow And soonest our best men with thee doe goe Rest of their bones and soules deliverie Thou art slave to Fate chance kings and desperate men And doth with poyson warre and sicknesse dwell And poppie or charmes can make us sleepe as well And better then thy stroake why swell'st thou then One short sleepe past wee wake eternally And death shall be no more death thou shalt die VII Spit in my face you Jewes and pierce my side Buffet and scoffe scourge and crucifie mee For I have sinn'd and sinn'd and onely hee Who could do no iniquitie hath dyed But by my death can not be satisfied My sinnes which passe the Jewes impiety They kill'd once an inglorious man but I Crucifie him daily being now glorified Oh let mee then his strange love still admire Kings pardon but he bore our punishment And Iacob came cloth'd in vile harsh attire But to supplant and with gainfull intent God cloth'd himselfe in vile mans flesh that so Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe VIII Why are wee by all creatures waited on Why doe the prodigall elements supply Life and food to mee being more pure then I Simple and further from corruption Why brook'st thou ignorant horse subjection Why dost thou bull and bore so seelily Dissemble weaknesse and by'one mans stroke die Whose whole kinde you might swallow feed upon Weaker I am woe is mee and worse then you You have not sinn'd nor need be timorous But wonder at a greater wonder for to us Created nature doth these things subdue But their Creator whom sin nor nature tyed For us his Creatures and his foes hath dyed IX What if this present were the worlds last night Marke in my heart O Soule where thou dost dwell The picture of Christ crucified and tell Whether his countenance can thee affright Teares in his eyes quench the amasing light Blood fills his frownes which from his pierc'd head fell And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell Which pray'd forgivenesse for his foes fierce spight No no but as in my idolatrie I said to all my profane mistresses Beauty of pitty foulnesse onely is A signe of rigour so I say to thee To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd This beauteous forme assumes a pitious minde X. Batter my heart three person'd God for you As yet but knocke breathe shine and seeke to mend That I may rise and stand o'erthrow mee ' and bend Your force to breake blowe burn and make me new I like an usurpt towne to'another due Labour to'admit you but Oh to no end Reason your viceroy in mee mee should defend But is captiv'd and proves weake or untrue Yet dearely'I love you and would be lov'd faine But am betroth'd unto your enemie Divorce mee ' untie or breake that knot againe Take mee to you imprison mee for I Except you'enthral mee never shall be free Nor ever chast except you ravish mee XI Wilt thou love God as he thee then digest My Soule this wholsome meditation How God the Spirit by Angels waited on In heaven doth make his Temple in thy brest The Father having begot a Sonne most blest And still begetting for he ne'r begonne Hath deign'd to chuse thee by adoption Coheire to'his glory ' and Sabbaths endlesse rest And as a robb'd man which by search doth finde His stolne stuffe sold must lose or buy'it againe The Sonne of glory came downe and was slaine Us whom he'had made and Satan stolne to unbinde 'T was much that man was made like God before But that God should be made like man much more XII Father part of his double interest Unto thy kingdome thy Sonne gives to mee His joynture in the knottie Trinitie Hee keepes and gives to me his deaths conquest This Lambe whose death with life the world hath blest Was from the worlds beginning slaine and he Hath made two Wills which with the Legacie Of his and thy kingdome doe thy Sonnes invest Yet such are these laws that men argue yet Whether a man those statutes can fulfill None doth but thy all-healing grace and Spirit Revive againe what law and letter kill Thy lawes abridgement and thy last command Is all but love Oh let this last Will stand EPIGRAMS Hero and Leander BOth rob'd of aire we both lye in one ground Both whom one fire had burnt one water drownd Pyramus and Thisbe Two by themselves each other love and feare Slaine cruell friends by parting have joyn'd here Niobe By childrens births and death I am become So dry that I am now mine owne sad tombe A burnt ship Out of a fired ship which by no way But drowning could be rescued from the flame Some men leap'd forth and ever as they came Neere the foes ships did by their shot decay So all were lost which in the ship were found They in the sea being burnt they in the burnt ship drown'd Fall of a wall Under an undermin'd and shot-bruis'd wall A too-bold Captaine perish'd by the fall Whose brave misfortune happiest men envi'd That had a towne for tombe his bones to hide A lame begger I am unable yonder begger cries To stand or moue if he say true hee lies A selfe accuser Your mistris that you follow whores still taxeth you 'T is strange that she should thus confesse it though'it be true A licentious person Thy sinnes and haires may no man equall call For as thy sinnes increase thy haires doe fall Antiquary If in his Studie he hath so much care To'hang all old strange things let his wife beware Disinherited Thy father all from thee by his last Will Gave to the poore Thou hast good title still Phryne Thy flattering picture Phryne is like thee Onely in this that you both painted be An obscure writer
From hearing bold wits jeast at Kings excesse To'admit the like of majestie divine That we may locke our eares Lord open thine XXVI That living law the Magistrate Which to give us and make us physicke doth Our vices often aggravate That Preachers taxing sinne before her growth That Satan and invenom'd men Which well if we starve dine When they doe most accuse us may see then Us to amendment heare them thee decline That we may open our eares Lord lock thine XXVII That learning thine Ambassador From thine allegeance wee never tempt That beauty paradises flower For physicke made from poyson be exempt That wit borne apt high good to doe By dwelling lazily On Natures nothing be not nothing too That our affections kill us not nor dye Heare us weake ecchoes O thou eare and cry XXVIII Sonne of God heare us and since thou By taking our blood owest it us againe Gaine to thy selfe or us allow And let not both us and thy selfe be slaine O lambe of God which took'st our sinne Which could not stick to thee O let it not returne to us againe But Patient and Physition being free As sinne is nothing let it no where be SEnd home my long strayd eyes to mee Which Oh too long have dwelt on thee Yet since there they have learn'd such ill Such forc'd fashions And false passions That they be Made by thee Fit for no good sight keep them still Send home my harmlesse heart againe Which no unworthy thought could staine Which if it be taught by thine To make jestings Of protestings And breake both Word and oath Keepe it for then 't is none of mine Yet send me back my heart and eyes That I may know and see thy lyes And may laugh and joy when thou Art in anguish And dost languish For some one That will none Or prove as false as thou art now A nocturnall upon S. Lucies day Being the shortest day T Is the yeares midnight and it is the dayes Lucies who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes The Sunne is spent and now his flasks Send forth light squibs no constant rayes The worlds whole sap is sunke The generall balme th'hydroptique earth hath drunk Whither as to the beds-feet life is shrunke Dead and enterr'd yet all these seeme to laugh Compar'd with mee who am their Epitaph Study me then you who shall lovers bee At the next world that is at the next Spring For I am every dead thing In whom love wrought new Alchimie For his art did expresse A quintessence even from nothingnesse From dull privations and leane emptinesse He ruin'd mee and I am re-begot Of absence darknesse death things which are not All others from all things draw all that 's good Life soule forme spirit whence they beeing have I by loves limbecke am the grave Of all that 's nothing Oft a flood Have wee two wept and so Drownd the whole world us two oft did we grow To be two Chaosses when we did show Care to ought else and often absences Withdrew our soules and made us carcasses But I am by her death which word wrongs her Of the first nothing the Elixer grown Were I a man that I were one I needs must know I should preferre If I were any beast Some ends some means Yea plants yea stones detest And love all all some properties invest If I an ordinary nothing were As shadow a light and body must be here But I am None nor will my Sunne renew You lovers for whose sake the lesser Sunne At this time to the Goat is runne To fetch new lust and give it you Enjoy your summer all Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall Let mee prepare towards her and let mee call This houre her Vigill and her eve since this Both the yeares and the dayes deep midnight is Witchcraft by a picture I Fixe mine eye on thine and there Pitty my picture burning in thine eye My picture drown'd in a transparent teare When I looke lower I espie Hadst thou the wicked skill By pictures made and mard to kill How many wayes mightst thou performe thy will But now I have drunke thy sweet salt teares And though thou poure more I 'll depart My picture vanish'd vanish feares That I can be endamag'd by that art Though thou retaine of mee One picture more yet that will bee Being in thine owne heart from all malice free COme live with mee and bee my love And wee will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands and christall brookes With silken lines and silver hookes There will the river whispering runne Warm'd by thy eyes more then the Sunne And there the'inamor'd fish will stay Begging themselves they may betray When thou wilt swimme in that live bath Each fish which every channell hath Will amorously to thee swimme Gladder to catch thee then thou him If thou to be so seene beest loath By Sunne or Moone thou darknest both And if my selfe have leave to see I need not their light having thee Let others freeze with angling reeds And cut their legges which shells and weeds Or treacherously poore fish beset With strangling snare or windowie net Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest The bedded fish in banks out-wrest Or curious traitors sleavesicke flies Bewitch poore fishes wandring eyes For thee thou needst no such deceit For thou thy selfe art thine owne bait That fish that is not catch'd thereby Alas is wiser farre then I. The Apparition WHen by thy scorne O murdresse I am dead And that thou thinkst thee free From all solicitation from mee Then shall my ghost come to thy bed And thee fain'd vestall in worse armes shall see Then thy sicke taper will begin to winke And he whose thou art then being tyr'd before Will if thou stirre or pinch to wake him thinke Thou call'st for more And in false sleepe will from thee shrinke And then poore Aspen wretch neglected thou Bath'd in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lye A veryer ghost then I What I will say I will not tell thee now Lest that preserve thee ' and since my love is spent I 'had rather thou shouldst painfully repent Then by my threatnings rest still innocent Dull sublunary lovers love Whose soule is sense cannot admit Absence because it doth remove Those things which elemented it But we by a love so much refin'd That our selves know not what it is Inter-assured of the mind Care lesse eyes lips hands to misse Our two soules therefore which are one Though I must goe endure not yet A breach but an expansion Like gold to ayery thinnesse beate If they be two they are two so As stiffe twin compasses are two Thy soule the fixt foot makes no show To move but doth if the'other doe And though it in the center sit Yet when the other far doth rome It leanes and hearkens after it And growes erect as that comes home Such wilt thou be to mee who must Like th' other foot obliquely runne Thy firmnes makes my circle just
Every fine silken painted foole we meet He then to him with amorous smiles allures And grins smacks shrugs and such an itch endures As prentises or schoole boyes which doe know Of some gay sport abroad yet dare not goe And as fidlers stop lowest at highest sound So to the most brave stoopt hee nigh'st the ground But to a grave man he doth move no more Then the wise politique horse would heretofore Now leaps he upright Joggs me cryes Do you see Yonder well favoured youth Which Oh 't is hee That dances so divinely Oh said I Stand still must you dance here for company Hee droopt wee went till one which did excell Th'Indians in drinking his Tobacco well Met us they talk'd I whispered let us goe 'T may be you smell him not truely I doe He heares not mee but on the other side A many-coloured Peacock having spide Leaves him and mee I for my lost sheep stay He followes overtakes goes on the way Saying him whom I last left s'all repute For his device in hansoming a sute To judge of lace pinke panes print cut and plight Of all the Court to have the best conceit Our dull Comedians want him let him goe But Oh God strengthen thee why stoop'st thou so Why he hath travailed long no but to me Which understand none he doth seeme to be Perfect French and Italian I replyed So is the Poxe He answered not but spy'd More men of sort of parts and qualities At last his Love he in a windowe spies And like light dew exhal'd he flings from mee Violently ravish'd to his liberty Many were there he could command no more Hee quarrell'd fought bled and turn'd out of dore Directly came to mee hanging the head And constantly a while must keepe his bed Satyre II. SIr though I thanke God for it I do hate Perfectly all this towne yet there 's one state In all ill things so excellently best That hate toward them breeds pitty towards the rest Though Poëtry indeed be such a sinne As I thinke that brings dearth and Spaniards in Though like the Pestilence and old fashion'd love Ridlingly it catch men and doth remove Never till it be sterv'd out yet their state Is poore disarm'd like Papists not worth hate One like a wretch which at Barre judg'd as dead Yet prompts him which stands next and cannot reade And saves his life gives ideot actors meanes Starving himselfe to live by his labor'd sceanes As in some Organ Puppits dance above And bellows pant below which thē do move One would move Love by rithmes but witchchrafts charms Bring not now their old feares nor their old harmes Rammes and slings now are seely battery Pistolets are the best Artillerie And they who write to Lords rewards to get Are they not like singers at doores for meat And they who write because all write have still That excuse for writing and for writing ill But hee is worst who beggarly doth chaw Others wits fruits and in his ravenous maw Rankly digested doth those things out-spue As his owne things and they are his owne 't is true For if one eate my meate though it be knowne The meate was mine th'excrement is his owne But these do mee no harme nor they which use To out-doe and out-usure Jewes To out-drinke the sea to out-sweare the Who with sinnes of all kindes as familiar bee As Confessors and for whose sinfull sake Schoolemen new tenements in hell must make Whose strange sinnes Canonists could hardly tell In which Commandements large receit they dwell But these punish themselves the insolence Of Coscus onely breeds my just offence Whom time which rots all and makes botches poxe And plodding on must make a calfe an oxe Hath made a Lawyer which was alas of late But scarce a Poët jollier of this state Then are new benefic'd ministers he throwes Like nets or lime-twigs wheresoever he goes His title of Barrister on every wench And wooes in language of the Pleas and Bench A motion Lady Speake Coscus I have beene In love ever since tricesimo of the Queene Continuall claimes I have made injunctions got To stay my rivals suit that hee should not Proceed spare mee In Hillary terme I went You said If I Returne next size in Lent I should be in remitter of your grace In th' interim my letters should take place Of affidavits words words which would teare The tender labyrinth of a soft maids eare More more then ten Sclavonians scolding more Then when winds in our ruin'd Abbeyes rore When sicke with Poëtrie and possest with muse Thou wast and mad I hop'd but men which chuse Law practise for meere gaine bold soule repute Worse then imbrothel'd strumpets prostitute Now like an owlelike watchman hee must walke His hand still at a bill now he must talke Idly like prisoners which whole months will sweare That onely suretiship hath brought them there Like a wedge in a blocke wring to the barre Bearing like Asses and more shamelesse farre Then carted wheres lye to the grave Judge for As these things do in him by these he thrives Shortly as the sea hee will compasse all the land Form Scots to Wight from Mount to Dover strand And spying heires melting with luxurie Satan will not joy at their sinnes as hee For as a thrifty wench scrapes kitching-stuffe And barrelling the droppings and the snuffe Of wasting candles which in thirty yeare Reliquely kept perchance buyes wedding geare Peecemeale he gets lands and spends as much time Wringing each Acre as men pulling prime In parchment then large as his fields hee drawes Assurances bigge as gloss'd civill lawes So huge that men in our times forwardnesse Are Fathers of the Church for writing lesse These hee writes not nor for these written payes Therefore spares no length as in those first dayes When Luther was profest he did desire Short Pater nosters saying as a Fryer Each day his beads but having left those lawes Addes to Christs prayer the Power and glory clause But when he sells or changes land he'impaires His writings and unwatch'd leaves out ses heires As slily as any Commenter goes by Hard words or sense or in Divinity As controverters in vouch'd Texts leave out Shrewd words which might against them cleare the doubt Where are those spred woods which cloth'd hertofore Those bought lands not built nor burnt within dore Where 's th' old landlords troops almes great hals Carthusian fasts and fulsome Bachanalls Equally I hate meanes blesse in rich mens homes I bid kill some beasts but no Hecatombs None starve none surfet so But Oh we allow Good workes as good but out of fashion now Like old rich wardrops but my words none drawes Within the vast reach of th'huge statute lawes Satyre III. KInde pitty chokes my spleene brave scorn forbids Those teares to issue which swell my eye-lids I must not laugh nor weepe sinnes and be wise Can railing then cure these worne maladies Is not our Mistresse faire Religion As worthy
if the Presence were a Moschite and lift His skirts and hose and call his clothes to shrift Making them confesse not only mortall Great staines and holes in them but veniall Feathers and dust wherewith they fornicate And then by Durers rules survay the state Of his each limbe and with strings the odds tries Of his neck to his legge and wast to thighes So in immaculate clothes and Symetrie Perfect as circles with such nicetie As a young Preacher at his first time goes To preach he enters and a Lady which owes Him not so much as good will he arrests And unto her protests protests protests So much as at Rome would serve to have throwne Ten Cardinalls into the Inquisition And whisperd by Jesu so often that A Pursevant would have ravish'd him away For saying of our Ladies psalter But 't is fit That they each other plague they merit it But here comes Glorius that will plague them both Who in the other extreme only doth Call a rough carelessenesse good fashion Whose cloak his spurres teare whom he spits on He cares not His ill words doe no harme To him he rusheth in as if arme arme He meant to crie And though his face be as ill As theirs which in old hangings whip Christ yet still He strives to looke worse he keepes all in awe Jeasts like a licenc'd foole commands like law Tyr'd now I leave this place and but pleas'd so As men from gaoles to'execution goe Goe through the great chamber why is it hung With the seaven deadly sinnes being among Those Askaparts men big enough to throw Charing Crosse for a barre men that doe know No token of worth but Queenes man and fine Living barrells of beefe flaggons of wine I shooke like a spyed Sple Preachers which are Seas of Wits and Arts you can then dare Drowne the sinnes of this place for for mee Which am but a scarce brooke it enough shall bee To wash the staines away though I yet With Macchabees modestie the knowne merit Of my worke lessen yet some wise man shall I hope esteeme my writs Canonicall Satyre V. THou shalt not laugh in this leafe Muse nor they Whom any pitty warmes He which did lay Rules to make Courtiers hee being understood May make good Courtiers but who Courtiers good Frees from the sting of jests all who in extreme Are wreched or wicked of these two a theame Charity and liberty give me What is hee Who Officers rage and Suiters misery Can write and jest If all things be in all As I thinke since all which were are and shall Bee be made of the same elements Each thing each thing employes or represents Then man is a world in which Officers Are the vast ravishing seas and Suiters Springs now full now shallow now drye which to That which drownes them run These selfe reasons do Prove the world a man in which officers Are the devouring stomacke and Suiters The excrements which they voyd all men are dust How much worse are Suiters who to mens lust Are made preyes O worse then dust or wormes meat For they do eate you now whose selves wormes shall eate They are the mills which grinde you yet you are The winde which drives them and a wastfull warre Is fought against you and you fight it they Adulterate lawe and you prepare their way Like wittals th' issue your owne ruine is Greatest and fairest Empresse know you this Alas no more then Thames calme head doth know Whose meades her armes drowne or whose corne o'rflow You Sir whose righteousnes she loves whō I By having leave to serve am most richly For service paid authorized now beginne To know and weed out this enormous sinne O Age of rusty iron Some better wit Call it some worse name if ought equall it The iron Age that was when justice was sold now Injustice is sold deerer farre allow All demands fees and duties gamsters anon The mony which you sweat and sweare for is gon Into other hands So controverted lands Scape like Angelica the strivers hands If Law be in the Judges heart and hee Have no heart to resist letter or fee Where wilt thou appeale powre of the Courts below Flow from the first maine head and these can throw Thee if they sucke thee in to misery To fetters halters But if the injury Steele thee to dare complaine Alas thou goest Against the stream when upwards when thou art most Heavy and most faint and in these labours they ' Gainst whom thou should'st complaine will in the way Become great seas o'r which when thou shalt bee Forc'd to make golden bridges thou shalt see That all thy gold was drown'd in them before All things follow their like only who have may have more Judges are Gods he who made and said them so Meant not that men should be forc'd to them to goe By meanes of Angels When supplications We send to God to Dominations Powers Cherubins and all heavens Court if wee Should pay fees as here Daily bread would be Scarce to Kings so 't is would it not anger A Stoicke a coward yea a Martyr To see a Pursivant come in and call All his cloathes Copes Bookes Primers and all His Plate Challices and mistake them away And lack a fee for comming Oh ne'r may Faire lawes white reverend name be strumpeted To warrant thefts she is established Recorder to Destiny on earth and shee Speakes Fates words and tells who must bee Rich who poore who in chaires who in jayles Shee is all faire but yet hath foule long nailes With which she scracheth Suiters In bodies Of men so in law nailes are extremities So Officers stretch to more then Law can doe As our nailes reach what no else part comes to Why barest thou to you Officer Foole Hath hee Got those goods for which men bared to thee Foole twice thrice thou hast bought wrong and now hungerly Beg'st right But that dole comes not till these dye Thou had'st much lawes Urim and Thummim trie Thou wouldst for more and for all hast paper Enough to cloath all the great Carricks Pepper Sell that and by that thou much more shalt leese Then Haman when he sold his Antiquities O wretch that thy fortunes should moralize Esops fables and make tales prophesies Thou art the swimming dog whom shadows cosened And div'st neare drowning for what vanished A Hymne to God the Father I. WIlt thou forgive that sinne where I begunne which was my sin though it were done before Wilt thou forgive that sinne through which I runne And do run still though still I do deplore When thou hast done thou hast not done For I have more II. Wilt thou forgive that sinne which I have wonne Others to sinne and made my sinne their doore Wilt thou forgive that sinne which I did shunne A yeare or two but wallowed in a score When thou hast done thou hast not done For I have more III. I have a sinne of feare that when I have spunne
comparison The onely measure is and judge opinion HOLY SONNETS La Corona 1. DEigne at my hands this crown of prayer and praise Weav'd in my low devout melancholie Thou which of good hast yea art treasury All changing unchang'd Antient of dayes But doe not with a vile crowne of fraile bayes Reward my muses white sincerity But what thy thorny crowne gain'd that give mee A crowne of Glory which doth flower alwayes The ends crowne our workes but thou crown'st our ends For at our end begins our endlesse rest The first last end now zealously possest With a strong sober thirst my soule attends 'T is time that heart and voice be lifted high Salvation to all that will is nigh ANNVNCIATION 2 Salvation to all that will is nigh That All which alwayes is All every where Which cannot sinne and yet all sinnes must beare Which cannot die yet cannot chuse but die Loe faithfull Virgin yeelds himselfe to lye In prison in thy wombe and though he there Can take no sinne nor thou give yet he'will weare Taken from thence flesh which deaths force may trie Ere by the spheares time was created thou Wast in his minde who is thy Sonne and Brother Whom thou conceiv'st conceiv'd yea thou art now Thy Makers maker and thy Fathers mother Thou'hast light in darke and shutst in little roome Immensity cloysterd in thy deare wombe NATIVITIE 3 Immensitie cloysterd in thy deare wombe Now leaves his welbelov'd imprisonment There he hath made himselfe to his intent Weake enough now into our world to come But Oh for thee for him hath th'Inne no roome Yet lay him in this stall and from the Orient Starres and wisemen will travell to prevent Th' effects of Herods jealous generall doome Seest thou my Soule with thy faiths eyes how he Which fils all place yet none holds him doth lye Was not his pity towards thee wondrous high That would have need to be pittied by thee Kisse him and with him into Egypt goe With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe TEMPLE 4 With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe Ioseph turne backe see where your child doth sit Blowing yea blowing out those sparks of wit Which himselfe on the Doctors did bestow The Word but lately could not speake and loe It sodenly speakes wonders whence comes it That all which was and all which should be writ A shallow seeming child should deeply know His Godhead was not soule to his manhood Nor had time mellowed him to this ripenesse But as for one which hath a long taske 'T is good With the Sunne to beginne his businesse He in his ages morning thus began By miracles exceeding power of man CRVCIFYING 5 By miracles exceeding power of man Hee faith in some envie in some begat For what weake spirits admire ambitious hate In both affections many to him ran But Oh! the worst are most they will and can Alas and do unto the immaculate Whose creature Fate is now prescribe a Fate Measuring selfe-lifes infinity to span Nay to an inch loe where condemned hee Beares his owne crosse with paine yet by and by When it beares him he must beare more and die Now thou art lifted up draw mee to thee And at thy death giving such liberall dole Moyst with one drop of thy blood my dry soule RESVRRECTION 6 Moyst with one drop of thy blood my dry soule Shall though she now be in extreme degree Too stony hard and yet too fleshly bee Freed by that drop from being starv'd hard or foule And life by this death abled shall controule Death whom thy death slue nor shall to mee Feare of first or last death bring miserie If in thy little booke my name thou enroule Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified But made that there of which and for which 't was Nor can by other meanes be glorified May then sinnes sleep and death soone from me passe That wak't from both I againe risen may Salute the last and everlasting day ASCENTION 7 Salute the last and everlasting day Joy at the uprising of this Sunne and Sonne Yee whose just teares or tribulation Have purely washt or burnt your drossie clay Behold the Highest parting hence away Lightens the darke clouds which hee treads upon Nor doth hee by ascending show alone But first hee and hee first enters the way O strong Ramme which hast batter'd heaven for mee Mild lambe which with thy blood hast mark'd the path Bright torch which shin'st that I the way may see Oh with thy owne blood quench thy owne just wrath And if thy holy Spirit my Muse did raise Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer and praise Holy Sonnets I. AS due by many titles I resigne My selfe to thee O God first I was made By thee and for thee and when I was decay'd Thy blood bought that the which before was thine I am thy sonne made with thy selfe to shine Thy servant whose paines thou hast still repaid Thy sheepe thine Image and till I betray'd My selfe a temple of thy Spirit divine Why doth the devill then usurpe on mee Why doth he steale nay ravish that 's thy right Except thou rise and for thine owne worke fight Oh I shall soone despaire when I doe see That thou lov'st mankind well yet wilt'not chuse me And Satan hates mee yet is loth to lose mee II. Oh my blacke Soule now thou art summoned By sicknesse deaths herald and champion Thou art like a pilgrim which abroad hath done Treason and durst not turne to whence hee is fled Or like a thiefe which till deaths doome be read Wisheth himselfe delivered from prison But damn'd and hal'd to execution Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned Yet grace if thou repent thou canst not lacke But who shall give thee that grace to beginne Oh make thy selfe with holy mourning blacke And red with blushing as thou art with sinne Or wash thee in Christs blood which hath this might That being red it dyes red soules to white III. This is my playes last scene here heavens appoint My pilgrimages last mile and my race Idly yet quickly runne hath this last pace My spans last inch my minutes latest point And gluttonous death will instantly unjoynt My body and my soule and I shall sleepe a space But my'ever-waking part shall see that face Whose feare already shakes my every joynt Then as my soule to'heaven her first seate takes flight And earth borne body in the earth shall dwell So fall my sinnes that all may have their right To where they' are bred and would presse me to hell Impute me righteous thus purg'd of evill For thus I leave the world the flesh the devill IV. At the round earths imagin'd corners blow Your trumpets Angells and arise arise From death you numberlesse infinities Of soules and to your scattred bodies goe All whom the flood did and fire shall o'erthrow All whom warre death age agues tyrannies Despaire law chance hath slaine and you whose eyes Shall behold God and