sicknesse broacht to be drawne out by death A haplesse helplesse thing that borne does cry To feed that feedes to live that lives to die Great God and Man whose eyes spent drops so often For me that cannot weepe enough O soften These marble braines and strike this flinty rock Or if the musick of thy Peters Cock Will more prevaile fill fill my hearkning eares With that sweet sound that I may melt in teares I cannot weepe untill thou broach ruine eye Or give me vent or els I burst and die S. AMBROS in Psal 118. He that commits sinnes to be wept for cannot weepe for sinnes committed And being himselfe most lamentable hath no teares to lament his offences NAZIANZ Orat. 3. Teares are the deluge of sinne and the worlds sacrifice S. HIEROM in Esaiam Prayer appeases God but a teare compels him That moves him but this constraines him EPIG 8. Earth is an Island ported round with Feares The way to Heav'n is through the Sea of teares It is a stormy passage where is found The wracke of many a ship but no man drown'd IX The sorroues of hell haue encompassed me the snares of death haue ouertaken me psal 17 Will simpson IX PSALM XVIII V The sorrowes of hell compassed mee about and the snares of death prevented me IS not this Type well cut In ev'ry part Full of rich cunning fil'd with Zeuxian Art Are not the Hunters and their Stygian Hounds Limm'd full to th' life Didst ever heare the sounds The musicke and the lip-divided breaths Of the strong-winded Horne Recheats and deaths Done more exact Th' infernall Nimrods hollow The lawlesse Purliews and the Game they follow The hidden Engines and the snares that lie So undiscover'd so obscure to th' eye The new-drawne net and her entangled Prey And him that closes it Beholder say Is' t not well done seemes not an em'lous strife Betwixt the rare cut picture and the life These Purlieu-men are Devils And the Hounds Those quick nos'd Canibals that scoure the grounds Temptations and the Game these Frends pursue Are humane soules which still they have in view Whose fury if they chance to scape by flying The skilfull Hunter plants his net close lying On th'unsuspected earth bayted with treasure Ambitious honour and selfe-wasting pleasure Where if the soule but stoope death stands prepar'd To draw the net and drawne the soule 's ensnar'd Poore soule how art thou hurried to and fro Where canst thou safely stay where safely go If stay these hot-mouth'd Hounds are apt to teare thee If goe the snares enclose the nets ensnare thee What good in this bad world has pow'r t' invite thee A willing Guest wherein can earth delight thee Her pleasures are but Itch Her wealth but Cares A world of dangers and a world of snares The close Pursuers busie hands do plant Snares in thy substance Snares attend thy want Snares in thy credit Snares in thy disgrace Snares in thy high estate Snares in thy base Snares tuck thy bed and Snares arround thy boord Snares watch thy thoughts and Snares attache thy word Snares in thy quiet Snares in thy commotion Snares in thy dyet Snares in thy devotion Snares lurk in thy resolves Snares in thy doubt Snares lie within thy heart and Snares without Snares are above thy head and Snares beneath Snares in thy sicknesse Snares are in thy death O if these Purlieus be so full of danger Great God of Harts the worlds sole sov'raigne Ranger Preserve thy Deere and let my soule be blest In thy safe Forrest where I seeke for rest Then let the Hell-hounds roare I feare no ill Rouze me they may but have no pow'r to kill S. AMBROS lib. 4. in cap. 4. Lucae The reward of honours the height of power the delicacie of diet and the beauty of a harlot are the snares of the Devill S. AMBROS de bono mortis Whilest thou seekest pleasures thou runnest into snares for the eye of the harlot is the snare of the Adulterer SAVANAR In eating he sets before us Gluttony In generation luxury In labour sluggishnesse In conversing envy in governing covetousnesse In correcting arger In honour pride In the heart he sets evill thoughts in the mouth evill words in actions evill workes when awake he moves us to evill actions when asleepe to filthy dreames EPIG 9. Be sad my Heart Deep dangers wait thy mirth Thy soule 's way layd by sea by Hell by earth Hell has her hounds Earth snares the Sea a shelfe But most of all my heart beware thy selfe X. Enter not into iudgment with thy seruant for no man liuing shall be iustified in thy sight Will simpson X. PSAL. CXLIII II Enter not into judgement with thy servant for in thy sight shall no man living bee iustified Jesus Justice Sinner Ies BRing forth the prisner Iustice Iust Thy commands Are done just Iudge See here the prisner stands Ies What has the prisner done Say what 's the cause Of his committment Iust He has broke the lawes Of his too gracious God conspir'd the death Of that great Majesty that gave him breath And heapes transgression Lord upon transgression Ies How know'st thou this Iu. Ev'n by his own confessiō His sinnes are crying and they cry'd aloud They cry'd to heav'n they cry'd to heav'n for blood Ies What sayst thou sinner hast thou ought to plead That sentence should not passe Hold up thy head And shew thy brazen thy rebellious face Sin Ah me I dare not I'am too vile and base To tread upon the earth much more to lift Mine eyes to heav'n I need no other shrift Than mine owne conscience Lord I must confesse I am no more than dust and no whit lesse Than my Inditement stiles me Ah if thou Search too severe with too severe a Brow What Flesh can stand I have transgrest thy lawes My merits plead thy vengeance not my cause Iust Lord shall I strike the blow Ies Hold Iustice stay Sinner speake on what hast thou more to say Sin Vile as I am and of my selfe abhor'd I am thy handy-worke thy creature Lord Stampt with thy glorious Image and at first Most like to thee though now a poore accurst Convicted Caitiffe and degen'rous creature Here trembling at thy Bar. Iust Thy fault 's the greater Lord shall I strike the blow Ies Hold Iustice stay Speake sinner hast thou nothing more to say Sin Nothing but Mercy Mercy Lord my state Is miserably poore and desperate I quite renounce my selfe the world and flee From Lord to Iesus from thy selfe to Thee Iust Cease thy vaine hopes my angry God has vow'd Abused mercy must have blood for blood Shall I yet strike the blow Ies Stay Iustice hold My bowels yearne my fainting blood growes cold To view the trembling wretch Me thinks I spye My fathers Image in the pris'ners eye Iust I cannot hold Jes Then turne thy thirsty blade Into my sides let there the wound be made Cheare up deare soule Redeeme thy life with mine My
The World 's the Tables Stakes Eternall life The Gamesters Heav'n and I Vnequall strife My Fortunes are my Dice whereby I frame My indisposed Life This Life 's the Game My sins are sev'rall Bloâ— the Lookers on Are Angels and in death the Game is done Lord I 'am a Bungler and my Game does grow Still more and more unshap'd my Dice run low The Stakes are great my carelesse Blots are many And yet thou passest by and hitst not any Thou art too strong And I have none to guide me With the least Iogge The lookers on deride me It is a Conquest undeserving Thee To win a Stake from such a Worme as me I have no more to lose If we persever 'T is lost and that once lost I 'm lost for ever Lord wink at faults and be not too severe And I will play my Game with greater feare O give me Feare ere Feare has past her date Whose blot being hit then feares fear 's then too late S. BERN. Ser. 54. in Cant. There is nothing so effectuall to obtaine Grace to retaine Grace and to regaine Grace as alwayes to be found before God not over-wise but to feare Happy art thou if thy heart be replenished with three feares a feare for received grace a greater feare for lost Grace a greatest feare to recover Grace S. AUGUST super Psalm Present feare begets eternall security Feare God which is above all and no need to feare man at all EPIG 4. Lord shall we grumble when thy flames do scourge us Our sinnes breath fire that fire returnes to purge us Lord what an Alchymist art thou whose skill Transmutes to perfect good from persect ill V. Turne a way myne eyes least thay behold wanite psal 118 â— V. PSAL. CXIX XXXVII Turne away mine eyes from regarding vanitie 1 HOw like to threds of Flaxe That touch the flame are my inflam'd desires How like to yeelding Waxe My soule dissolves before these wanton fires The fire but touch'd the flame but felt Like Flaxe I burne like Waxe I melt 2 O how this flesh does draw My fetter'd soule to that deceitfull fire And how th' eternall Law Is baffled by the law of my desire How truly bad how seeming good Are all the Lawes of Flesh and Blood 3 O wretched state of Men The height of whose Ambition is to borrow What must be paid agen With griping Int'rest of the next dayes sorrow How wild his Thoughts How apt to range How apt to varie Apt to change 4 How intricate and nice Is mans perplexed way to mans desire Sometimes upon the Ice He slips and sometimes fals into the fire His progresse is extreme and bold Or very hot or very cold 5 The common food he doth Sustaine his soule-tormenting thoughts withall Is honey in his mouth To night and in his heart to morrow Gall 'T is oftentimes within an houre Both very sweet and very sowre 6 If sweet Corinna smile A heav'n of Ioy breaks downe into his heart Corinna frownes a while Hels Torments are but Copies of his smart Within a lustfull heart does dwell A seeming Heav'n a very Hell 7 Thus worthlesse vaine and void Of comfort are the fruits of earths imployment Which ere they be enjoyd Distract us and destroy us in th' enjoyment These be the pleasures that are priz'd When heav'ns cheape pen'worth stands despis'd 8 Lord quench these hasty flashes Which dart as lightning from the thundring skies And ev'ry minut dashes Against the wanton windowes of mine eyes Lord close the Casement whilst I stand Behind the curtaine of thy Hand S. AUGUST Soliloq cap. 4. O thou Sonne that illuminates both Heaven and Earth Woe be unto those eyes which doe not behold thee Woe be unto those blind eyes which cannot behold thee Woe be unto those which turne away their eyes that they wil not behold thee Woe be unto those that turne not away their eyes that they may behold vanity S. CHRYS sup Matth. 19. What is an evill women but the enemy of friendship an unavoidable paine a necessary mischiefe a naturall tentation a desiderable calamity a domestick danger a delectable inconvenience and the nature of evill painted over with the colour of good EPIG 5. 'T is vaine great God to close mine eyes from ill When I resolve to keepe the old man still My rambling heart must cov'nant first with Thee Or none can passe betwixt mine eyes and me VI. If I haue found fauour in thy sight let my life be giuen me at my petition Ester 7.3 Will Simpson sculpsit VI. ESTER VII III If I have found favour in thy sight and if it please the King let my life be given me at my petition THou art the great Assuerus whose command Doth stretch from Pole to Pole The World 's thy Land Rebellious Vasht's the corrupted Will Which being cal'd refuses to fulfill Thy just command Hester whose teares condole The razed City 's the Regen'rate Soule A captive maid whom thou wilt please to grace With nuptiall Honour in stout Vashti's place Her kinsman whose unbended knee did thwart Proud Hamans glory is the Fleshly part The sober Eunuch that recal'd to mind The new-built Gibbet Haman had divin'd For his owne ruine fifty Cubits high Is lustfull thought-controlling Chastity Insulting Hâ—man is that fleshly lust Whose red-hot fury for a season must Triumph in Pride and study how to tread On Mordecay till royall Hester plead Great King my sent-for Vashti will not come O let the oyle o' th blessed Virgins wombe Cleanse my poore Hester look O looke upon her With gracious eyes and let thy Beames of honour So scoure her captive staines that she may prove A holy Object of thy heav'nly love Annoint her with the Spiknard of thy graces Then try the sweetnesse of her chast embraces Make her the partner of thy nuptiall Bed And set thy royall Crowne upon her head If then ambitious Haman chance to spend His spleene on Mordecay that scornes to bend The wilfull stiffenesse of his stubborne knee Or basely crouch to any Lord but Thee If weeping Hester should preferre a Grone Before the high Tribunall of thy Throne Hold forth thy Golden Scepter and afford The gentle Audience of a gracious Lord And let thy royall Hester be possest Of halfe thy Kingdome at her deare request Curbe lustfull Haman him that would disgrace Nay ravish thy faire Queene before thy face And as proud Haman was himselfe ensnar'd On that selfe Gibbet that himselfe prepar'd So nayle my lust both Punishment and Guilt On that deare Crosse that mine owne Lusts have built S. AUGUST in Ep. O holy Spirit alwayes inspire we with holy works constraine me that I may doe Counsell me that I may love thee Confirme me that I may hold thee Conserve me that I may not lose thee S. AUGUST sup Ioan. The Spirit rusts where the flesh rests For as the flesh is nourished with sweet things the Spirit is refreshed with sowre Ibidem Wouldst thou that thy flesh
feeble voice of flesh and blood The pow'r to worke thine eares into a flood Of melted Mercy or the strenth t'unlocke The gates of Heav'n and to dissolve a Rock Of marbel Clouds into a morning show'r Or has the breath of whining dust the pow'r To stop or snatch a falling Thunderbolt From thy fierce hand and make thy hand revolt From resolute Confusion and in stead Of Vyals poure full Blessings on our head Or shall the wants of famisht Ravens cry And move thy mercy to a quick supply Or shall the silent suits of drooping flowr's Woo thee for drops and be refresh'd with Showr's Alas what marvell then great GOD what wonder If thy Hell-rouzing voice that splits in sunder The brazen Portals of eternall death What wonder if that life-restoring breath Which drag'd me from th' infernall shades of night Should melt my ravisht soule with ore-delight O can my frozen gutters choose but run That feele the warmth of such a glorious Sun Me thinks his language like a flaming Arrow Doth pierce my bones and melts their wounded marrow Thy flames O Cupid though the ioyfull heart Feeles neither tang of griefe nor feares the smart Of jealous doubts but drunk with full desires Are torments weigh'd with these celestiall fires Pleasures that ravish in so high a measure That O I languish in excesse of pleasure What ravisht heart that feeles these melting Ioyes Would not despise and loathe the trech'rous Toyes Of dunghill earth what soule would not be proud Of wry-mouth'd scornes the worst that flesh and blood Had rancor to divise Who would not beare The worlds derision with a thankfull eare What palat would refuse full bowles of spight To gaine a minuts tast of such delight Great spring of light in whom there is no shade But what my interposed sinnes have made Whose marrow-melting Fires admit no screene But what my owne rebellions put betweene Their precious flames and my obdurate care Disperse these plague-distilling Clouds and cleare My mungy Soule into a glorious day Transplant this screene remoove this Barre away Then then my fluent soule shall feele the fires Of thy sweet voice and my dissolv'd desires Shall turne a sov'raigne Balsome to make whole Those wounds my sinnes inflicted on thy soule S. AUGUST Soliloqu Chap. 34. What fire is this that so warmes my heart What light is this that so enlightens my soule O fire that alwayes burnest and never goest out kindle me O light which ever shinest and art never darkned illuminate me O that I had my heat from thee most holy fire How sweetly doest thou burne How secretly dost thou shine How desiderably doest thou inflame me BONAVENT Stim amoris Chap. 8. It makes God man and man God things temporall eternall mortall immortall it makes an enemy a friend a servant a Sonne vile things glorious cold hearts fiery and hard things liquid EPIG 5. My soule Thy gold is true but full of drosse Thy SAVIOURS breath refines thee with some losse His gentle Fornace makes thee pure as true Thou must be melted ere th' art cast anew VI. Whom haue I in heaven but thee what desire I on earth in respect of thee Ps 73. â— W. S. sc VI. PSAL. LXXIII XXV Whom have I in heav'n but Thee and what desire I on earth in respect of Thee 1 I Love and have some cause to love the earth She is my Makers Creature therefore Good She is my Mother for she gave me birth She is my tender Nurse she gives me food But what 's a Creature Lord compar'd with Thee Or what 's my mother or my nurse to me 2 I love the Ayre her dainty sweets refresh My drooping soule and to new sweets invite me Her shrill-mouth'd Quire sustaine me with their flesh And with their Polyphonian notes delight me But what 's the Ayre or all the sweets that she Can blesse my soule withall compar'd to Thee 3 I love the Sea She is my fellow-Creature My carefull Purveyor She provides me store Shee wals me round She makes my diet greater She wafts my treasure from a forreigne shore But Lord of Oceans when compar'd with thee What is the Ocean or her wealth to me 4 To heav'ns high City I direct my Iourney Whose spangled Suburbs entertaine mine eye Mine Eye by Contemplations great Atturney Transcends the Chrystall pavement of the sky But what is heav'n great GOD compar'd to Thee Without Thy presence Heav'n's no Heav'n to me 5 Without Thy presence Earth gives no Refection Without Thy presence Sea affords no treasure Without Thy presence Ayre 's a rank Infection Without Thy presence Heav'n it self 's no pleasure If not possest if not enjoy'd in Thee What 's Earth or Sea or Ayre or Heav'n to me 6 The highest Honours that the world can boast Are subjects farre too low for my desire The brightest beames of glory are at most But dying sparkles of thy living fire The proudest flames that earth can kindle be But nighâ—ly Glow-wormes if compar'd to Thee 7 Without Thy presence wealth are Bags of Cares Wisedome but Folly Joy disquiet sadnesse Friendship is Treason and Delights are snares Pleasures but paine and mirth but pleasing Madnesse Without Thee Lord things be not what they be Nor have they being when compar'd with Thee 8 In having all things and not Thee what have I Not having Thee what have my labours got Ler me enjoy but Thee what farther crave I And having Thee alone what have I not I wish nor Sea nor Land nor would I be Possest of Heav'n Heav'n unpossest of Thee BONAVENT Cap. 1. Soliloq Alas my God now I Vnderstand but blush to confesse that the beauty of thy Creatures haue deceived mine eyes and I have not observed that thou art more amiable than all thy creatures to which thou hast communicated but one drop of thy inestimable beauty For who hath adorned the heauens with Starres Who hath stored the ayre with fowle the waters with fish the earth with plants and flowers But what are all these but a small sparke of divine beauty S. CHR. Hom. 5. in Ep ad Rom. In having nothing I have all things because I have Christ Having therefore all things in Him I seeke no other reward for he is the universall Reward EPIG 6. Who would not throw his better thoughts about him And scorne this drosse within him that without him Cast up my soule thy clearer eye Behold If thou be fully melted There 's the Mold VII Woe is me that I am constrained to dwell with Meseth to haue my habitation among the tent of Cedar Psal. 120.4 Will. simpson sculpsit VII PSAL. CXX.V. Woe is to me that I remaine in Meshech and dwell in the Tents of Kedar IS Natures course dissolv'd Does Times glasse stand Or has some frolick heart set back the hand Of Fates perpetuall Clock Wil't never strike Is crazy Time growne lazy faint or sick With very Age Or has that great Purroyall Of Adamantine sisters late made
they but clog'd with earth as I. 3 O were their soules but clog'd with earth as I They would not purchase with so salt an Itch They would not take of Almes what now they buy Nor call him happy whom the world counts rich They would not take such paines project and prog To charge their shoulders with so great a log Who has the greater lands has but the greater clog 4 I cannot do an act which earth disdaines not I cannot thinke a thought which earth corrupts not I cannot speake a word which earth prophanes not I cannot make a vow earth interrupts not If I but offer up an early groane Or spread my wings to heav'ns long long'd for Throne She darkens my complaints and drags my Offring downe 5 Ev'n like the Hawlk whose keepers wary hands Have made a prisner to her wethring stock Forgetting quite the pow'r of her fast bands Makes a rank Bate from her forsaken Block But her too faithfull Leash does soone restraine Her broken flight attempted oft in vaine It gives her loynes a twitch and tugs her back againe 6 So when my soule directs her better eye To heav'ns bright Pallace where my treasure lies I spread my willing wings but cannot flie Earth hales me downe I cannot cannot rise When I but strive to mount the least degree Earth gives a jerk and foiles me on my knee LORD how my soule is rackt betwixt the world and Thee 7 Great GOD I spend my feeble wings in vaine In vaine I offer my extended hands I cannot mount till thou unlink my chaine I cannot come till thou release my Bands Which if thou please to break and then supply My wings with spirit th' Eagle shall not flie A pitch that 's halfe so faire nor halfe so swift as I. BONAVENT cap. 1. Soliloq Ah sweet Iesus pierce the marrow of my soule with the healthfull shafts of thy love that if may truly burne and melt and languish with the onely desire of thee that it may desire to be dissolv'd and to be with thee Let it hunger alone for the bread of life let it thirst after thee the spring and fountaine of eternall light the streame of true pleasure let it alwayes desire thee seeke thee and find thee and sweetly rest in thee EPIG 9. What will thy shackles neither loose nor breake Are they too strong or is thy Arme too weake Art will prevaile where knotty strength denies My soule there 's Aquafortis in thine eyes X. Bring my soule out of Prison that I may praise thy Name Ps 142.7 Will simpson sculpsit X. PSAL. CXLII VII Bring my soule out of prison that I may praise thy Name MY Soule is like a Bird my Flesh the Cage Wherein she weares her weary Pilgrimage Of houres as few as evill dayly fed With sacred Wine and Sacramentall Bread The keyes that locks her in and lets her out Are Birth and Death 'twixt both she hops about From perch to perch from Sense to reason then From higher Reason downe to Sense agen From Sense she climbs to Faith where for a season She sits and sings then downe againe to Reason From Reason back to Faith and straight from thence She rudely flutters to the Perch of Sense From Sense to Hope then hops from Hope to Doubt From Doubt to dull Despaire there seekes about For desp'rate Freedome and at ev'ry Grate She wildly thrusts and begs th' untimely date Of unexpired thraldome to release Th' afflicted Captive that can find no peace Thus am I coop'd within this fleshly Gage I weare my youth and wast my weary Age Spending that breath which was ordain'd to chaunt Heav'ns praises forth in sighs and sad complaint Whilst happier birds can spread their nimble wing From Shrubs to Cedars and there chirp and sing In choice of raptures the harmonious story Of mans Redemption and his Makers Glory You glorious Martyrs you illustrious Troopes That once were cloyster'd in your fleshly Coopes As fast as I what Reth'rick had your tongues What dextrous Art had your Elegiak Songs What Paul-like pow'r had your admir'd devotion What shackle breaking Faith infus'd such motion To your strong Pray'rs that could obtaine the boone To be inlarg'd to be uncag'd so soone When I poore I can sing my daily teares Growne old in Bondage and can find no eares You great partakers of eternall Glory That with your heav'n-prevailing Oratory Releas'd your soules from your terrestriall Cage Permit the passion of my holy Rage To recommend my sorrowes dearely knowne To you in dayes of old and once your owne To your best thoughts but oh't does not befit ye To moove your pray'rs you love and joy not pitie Great LORD of soules to whom should prisners flie But Thee Thou hadst thy Cage as well as I And for my sake thy pleasure was to know The sorrowes that it brought and feltst them too O set me free and I will spend those dayes Which now I wast in begging in Thy praise ANSELM in Protolog cap. 1. O miserable condition of mankind that has lost that for which he was created Alas What has he left And what has hee found He has lost happinesse for which he was made and found misery for which he was not made What is gone and what is left That thing is gone without which hee is unhappy that thing is left by which he is miserable O wretched men From whence are we expell'd To what are we impell'd Whence are we throwne And whether are we burried From our home into banishment from the slight of God into our own blindnesse from the pleasure of immortality to the bitternesse of death Miserable change From how great a good to how great an evill Ah me What have I enterprized What have I done Whither did I goe Whither am I come EPIG 10. Pauls Midnight voice prevail'd his musicks thunder Vnhing'd the prison doores split bolts in sunder And sitst thou here and hang'st the feeble wing And whinst to be enlarg'd Soule learne to sing XI As the Hart panteth after the waterbrooks so panteth my soule after thee o Lord. Will Simpson Sculpsit XI PSAL. XLII I As the Hart panteth after the water-brooks so panteth my soule after thee O God 1 HOw shall my tongue expresse that hollow'd fire Which heav'n has kindled in my ravisht heart What Muse shall I invoke that will inspire My lowly Quill to act a lofty part What Art shall I divise t' expresse desire Too intricate to be exprest by Art Let all the nine be silent I refuse Their old in this high task for they abuse The flames of Love too much Assist me Davids Muse 2 Not as the thirsty soyle desires soft showres To quicken and refresh her Embrion graine Nor as the drooping Crests of fading flowres Request the bounty of a morning Raine Do I desire my GOD These in few houres Re-wish what late their wishes did obtaine But as the swift-foot Hart does wounded flie To th' much desired streames ev'n so