SAINT Peters complaynt With other Poems AT LONDON Printed by I. R. for G. C. 1595. The Printer to the Gentlemen Readers HAuing beheld kind Gentlemen the numberlesse Iudges of not to be reckoned labours with what kind admiration you haue entertained the Diuine Complaint of holy Peter and hauing in my hands certaine especiall Poems and diuine Meditations full as woorthie belonging to the same I thought it a charitable deede to giue them life in your memories which els should die in an obscure sacrifice gently embrace them gentle censurers of gentle indeuors so shall you not be fantastike in diuersity of opinions nor contradict your resolues by denying your former iudgements but still bee your selues discreetely vertuous nor could I other wish but that the courteous reader of these labors not hauing already bought Peters Complaint would not for so small a mite of money loose so rich a treasure of heauenly wisdome as these two Treatises should minister vnto him the one so needfully depending vpon the other One thing amongst the rest I am to admonish thee of that hauing in this Treatise read Maries visitation the next that should follow is Christs natiuity but being afore printed in the end of Peters Complaint we haue heere of purpose omitted that thou shouldest not be abridged of that and theother like comforts which that other treatise profereth thee Yours kind Gentlemen in all his abilities I. B. The Author to the Reader DEare eye that doest peruse my Muses style VVith easie censure deeme of my delight Giue sobrest countnance leaue sometime to smyle And grauest wits to take a breathing flight Of mirth to make a trade may be a crime But tyred spirites for mirth must haue a time The loftie Eagle soares not still aboue High flightes will force her from the wing to stoupe And studious thoughtes at times men must remoue Least by excesse before their time they droupe In courser studies t is a sweete repose VVith Poets pleasing vaine to temper prose Prophane conceits and fayning fits I flie Such lawlesse stuffe doth lawlesse speeches fit VVith Dauid verse to vertue I applie VVhose measure best with measured wordes doth fit It is the sweetest note that man can sing VVhen grace in vertues key tunes natures string The Author to the Reader DEare eye that daynest to let fall a looke On these sad memories of Peters plaints Muse not to see some mud in cleerest brooke They once were brittle mould that now are Saints Theyr weakenes is no warrant to offend Learne by their faults what in thine owne to mend If equities euen-hand the ballance held VVhere Peters sinnes and ours were made the weightes Ounce for his dramme Pound for his Ounce we yeeld His ship would groane to feele some sinners freightes So ripe is vice so greene is vertues bud The world doth waxe in ill but waine in good This makes my mourning Muse resolue in teares This theames my heauy penne to plaine in prose Christs Thorne is sharpe no head his Garland weares Still finest wits are stilling Venus Rose In paynim toyes the sweetest vaines are spent To Christian workes few haue their tallents lent Licence my single penne to seeke a pheere You heauenly sparkes of wit shew natiue light Cloud not with mistie loues your Orient cleere Sweet flights you shoote learne once to leuell right Fauour my wish well-wishing workes no ill I mooue the Suite the Graunt restes in your will SAINT PETERS Complaynt LAunch foorth my Soule into a maine of teares Full fraught with griefe the traffick of thy mind Torne sayles will serue thoughts rent with guilty feares Giue care the sterne vse sighes in lieu of wind Remorse thy Pilot thy misdeede thy Carde Torment thy Hauen Shipwracke thy best reward Shun not the shelfe of most deserued shame Sticke in the sandes of agonizing dread Contènt thee to be stormes and billowes game Diuorc'd from grace thy soule to pennance wed Flie not from forreine euils flie from thy hart VVorse then the worst of euils is that thou art Giue vent vnto the vapours of thy brest That thicken in the brimmes of cloudie eyes VVhere sinne was hatch'd let teares now wash the nest VVhere life was lost recouer life with cryes Thy trespasse foule let not thy teares be few Baptize thy spotted soule in weeping dewe Flie mournefull plaintes the Ecchoes of my ruth VVhose screeches in my freighted conscience ring Sob out my sorrowes fruites of mine vntruth Report the smart of sinnes infernall sting Tell hartes that languish in the soriest plight There is on earth a farre more sorry wight A sorry wight the obiect of disgrace The monument of feare the map of shame The mirrour of mishap the staine of place The scorne of time the infamy of fame An excrement of earth to heauen hatefull Iniurious to man to God vngratefull Ambitious heades dreame you offortunes pride Fill volumes with your forged Goddesse prayse You fancies drudges plung'd in follies tide Deuote your fabling wits to louers layes Be you ô sharpest griefes that euer wrung Texte to my thoughtes Theame to my playning tung Sad subiect of my sinne hath stoard my minde VVith euerlasting matter of complaint My threnes an endlesse Alphabet do finde Beyond the panges which Ieremy doth paint That eyes with errors may iust measure keepe Most teares I wish that haue most cause to weepe All weeping eyes resigne your teares to me A sea will scantly rince my ordur'de soule Huge horrours in high tides must drowned bee Of euery teare my crime exacteth tole These staines are deepe few drops take out no such Euen salue with sore and most is not too much I fear'd with life to die by death to liue I left my guide now left and leauing God To breath in blisse I fear'd my breath to giue I fear'd for heauenly raigne an earthly rod. These feares I fear'd feares feeling no mishaps O fond ô faint ô false ô faultie laps How can I liue that thus my life deni'd VVhat can I hope that lost my hope in feare VVhat trust to one that truth it selfe defi'de VVhat good in him that did his God forsweare O sinne of sinnes of euils the very worst O matchlesse wretch ô catiffe most accurst Vaine in my vaunts I vowd if friends had fail'd Alone Christs hardest fortunes to abide Giant in talke like dwarfe in triall quaild Excelling none but in vntruth and pride Such distance is betweene high words and deeds In proofe the greatest vaunter seldome speedes Ah rashnes hastie ryse to murdering leape Lauish in vowing blind in seeing what Soone sowing shames that long remorse must reape Nurcing with teares that ouer-sight begat Scout of repentance harbinger of blame Treason to wisedome mother of ill name The borne-blind begger for receiued sight Fast in his faith and loue to Christ remain'd Hee stouped to no feare he feard no might No change his choice no threats his truth distain'd One wonder wrought him in his dutie sure I after thousands did my Lord
abiure Could seruile feare of rendring natures due VVhich growth in yeeres was shortly like to claime So thrall my loue that I should thus eschue A vowed death and misse so faire an ayme Die die disloyall wretch thy life detest For sauing thine thou hast forsworne the best Ah life sweet drop drownd in a sea of sowers A flying good posting to doubtfull end Still loosing months and yeeres to gaine new howers Faine time to haue and spare yet forst to spend Thy growth decrease a moment all thou hast That gone ere knowne the rest to come or past Ah life the maze of countlesse straying waies Open to erring steps and strow'd with baits To winde weake sences into endlesse strayes A loofe from vertues rough vnbeaten straights A flower a play a blast a shade a dreame A liuing death a neuer turning streame And could I rate so high a life so base Did feare with loue cast so vneuen account That for this goale I should runne Iudas race And Caiphas rage in crueltie surmount Yet they esteemed thirtie pence his price I worse then both for nought deny'd him thrise The mother sea from ouerflowing deepes Sends forth her issue by diuided vaines Yet backe her of-spring to theyr mother creepes To pay theyr purest streames with added gaines But I that drunke the drops of heauenly flud Bemyr'd the gyuer with returning mud Is this the haruest of his sowing toyle Did Christ manure thy hart to breed him bryers Or doth it need this vnaccustomd soyle VVith hellish dunge to fertile heauens desires No no the Marle that periuries doth yeeld May spoyle a good not fat a barraine field VVas this for best deserts the duest meede Are highest worthes well wag'de with spitefull hire Are stoutest vowes repeal'd in greatest neede Should friendship at the first affront retire Blush crauen sott lurke in eternall night Crouch in the darkest caues from loathed light Ah wretch why was I nam'd sonne of a doue VVhose speeches voyded spight and breathed gall No kin I am vnto the bird of loue My stony name much better sutes my fall My othes were stones my cruell tongue the sling My God the marke at which my spight did fling VVere all the Iewish tiranies too few To glut thy hungry lookes with his disgrace That thou more hatefull tirannies must shew And spit thy poyson in thy Makers face Didst thou to spare his foes put vp thy sword To brandish now thy tongue against thy Lord Ah tongue that didst his prayse and Godhead sound How wert thou stain'd with such detesting words That euery word was to his hart a wound And launst him deeper then a thousand swordes VVhat rage of man yea what infernall spirite Could haue disgorg'd more loathsome dregs of spite VVhy did the yeelding sea like marble way Support a wretch more wauering then the waues VVhom doubt did plunge why did the water stay Vnkind in kindnesse murthering while it saues O that this toung had then been fishes food And I deuour'd before this cursing moode Their surges depthes and seas vnfirme by kinde Rough gusts and distance both from ship and shoare VVere titles to excuse my staggering minde Stout feete might falter on that liquid floare But here no seas no blastes no billowes were A puffe of womans winde bred all my feare O coward troupes far better arm'd then harted VVhom angry words whom blowes could not prouok VVhom though I taught how sore my weapon smarted Yet none repaide me with a wounding stroke O no that stroke could but one moitie kill I was reseru'd both halfes at once to spill Ah whether was forgotten loue exilde VVhere did the truth of pledged promise sleepe VVhat in my thoughts begat this ougly child That could through rented soule thus fircely creepe O viper feare their death by whom thou liuest All good thy ruynes wrecke all euels thou giuest Threats threw me not torments I none assayde My fray with shades conceits dyd make me yeeld VVounding my thoughts with feares selfely dismayd I neyther fought nor lost I gaue the field Infamous foyle a Maidens easie breath Dyd blow me downe and blast my soule to death Titles I make vntruths am I a rocke That with so soft a gale was ouer-throwne Am I fit Pastor for the faithfull flocke To guide theyr soules that murdred thus mine owne A rock of ruine not a rest to stay A Pastor not to feed but to betray Fidelitie was flowne when feare was hatched Incompatible brood in vertues nest Courage can lesse with cowardise be matched Prowesse nor loue lodg'd in deuided brest O Adams child cast by a sillie Eue Heire to thy Fathers foyles and borne to greeue In Thabors ioyes I eger was to dwell An earnest friend while pleasures light did shine But when ecclipsed glory prostrate fell These zealous heates to sleepe I did resigne And now my mouth hath thrise his name defil'd That cry'd so loud three dwellings there to build VVhen Christ attending the distressefull hower VVith his surcharged brest did blesse the ground Prostrate in pangs rayning a bleeding shower Me like my selfe a drowsie friend he found Thrise in his care sleepe closde my carelesse eye Presage how him my tongue should thrise deny Parting from Christ my fainting force declin'd VVith lingring foote I followed him a loofe Base feare out of my hart his loue vnshrind Huge in high words but impotent in proofe My vaunts did seeme hatcht vnder Sampsons locks Yet womans wordes did giue me murdring knocks So farre luke warme desires in crasie loue Farre off in neede with feeble foote they trayne In tydes they swimme low ebbes they scorne to proue They seeke their friends delights but shun their paine Hire of a hireling minde is earned shame Take now thy due beare thy begotten blame Ah coole remisnes vertues quartane feuer Pyning of loue consumption of grace Old in the cradle languor dying euer Soules wilfull famine sinnes soft stealing pace The vndermining euill of zealous thought Seeming to bring no harmes till all be brought O portresse of the doore of my disgrace VVhose toung vnlockt the truth of vowed minde VVhose wordes from cowardes hart did courage chase And let in death-full feares my soule to blinde O hadst thou been the portresse to my tombe VVhen thou wert portresse to that cursed roome Yet loue was loath to part feare loath to die Stay daunger life did counterplead their causes I fauouring stay and life bad daunger flie But daunger did except against these clauses Yet stay and liue I would and daunger shunne And lost my selfe while I my verdict wonne I stayde yet did my staying farthest part I liu'd but so that sauing life I lost it Daunger I shun'd but to my sorer smart I gayned nought but deeper domage crost it VVhat daunger distance death is worse then this That runnes from God and spoyles his soule of blisse O Iohn my guide into this earthly hell Too well acquainted in so ill a court VVhere rayling mouthes with
shop of shame trade sorrowes ware Pleasd with displeasing lot I seeke no change I wealthiest am when richest in remorce To fetch my ware no seas nor lands I range For customers to buy I nothing force My home-bred goods at home are bought and sold And still in me the interest I hold My comfort now is comfortlesse to liue In Orphan state deuoted to mishap Rent from the roote that sweetest fruit did giue I scorn'd to graffe in stocke of meaner sap No iuice can ioy me but of Iesse flower VVhose heauenly roote hath true reuiuing power At sorrowes dore I knockt they crau'd my name I aunswered one vnworthy to be knowne VVhat one say they one worthiest of blame But who a wretch not Gods nor yet his owne A man O no a beast much worse what creature A rocke how cald the rocke of scandale Peter From whence from Caiphas house ah dwell you there Sinnes farme I rented there but now would leaue it VVhat rent my soule what gaine vnrest and feare Deere purchase Ah too deere will you receiue it VVhat shall we giue fit teares and times to plaine me Come in say they thus griefes did entertaine me VVith them I rest true prisoner to theyr Iayle Chain'd in the yron linkes of basest thrall Tyll grace vouchsafing captiue soule to bayle In wonted See degraded loues enstall Dayes passe in plaints the nights without repose I wake to weepe I sleepe in waking woes Sleepe deaths allye obliuion of teares Silence of passions balme of angry sore Suspence of loues securitie of feares VVrathes lenitiue harts ease stormes calmest shore Sences and soules repriuall from all cumbers Benumming sence of ill with quiet slumbers Not such my sleepe but whisperer of dreames Creating strange chymeraes fayning frights Of day discourses giuing fansie theames To make dumme shewes with worlds of antick sights Casting true griefes in fansies forging mold Brokenly telling tales rightly fore-told This sleepe most fitly suteth sorrowes bed Sorrow the smart of euill Sinnes eldest child Best when vnkind in killing who it bred A racke for guiltie thoughts a bit for wild The scourge that whips the salue that cures offence Sorrow my bed and home while life hath sence Heere solitary Muses nurse my griefes In silent lonenesse burying worldly noyse Attentiue to rebukes deafe to reliefes Pensiue to foster cares carelesse of ioyes Ruing lifes losse vnder deathes dreary roofes Solemnizing my funerall behoofes A selfe contempt the shroud my soule the corse The beere an humble hope the herse cloth feare The mourners thoughts in blacks of deepe remorse The herse grace pittie loue and mercy beare My teares my dole the priest a zealous will Pennance the tombe and dolefull sighes the knill Christ health of feuer'd soule heauen of the mind Force of the feeble nurse of Infant loues Guide to the wandring foote light of the blind VVhom weeping winnes repentant sorrow moues Father in care mother in tender hart Reuiue and saue me slaine with finnefull dart If king Manasses sunke in depth of sinne VVith plaints and teares recouered grace and crowne A worthlesse worme some milde regard may winne And lowly creepe where flying threw it downe A poore desire I haue to mend my ill I should I would I dare not say I will I dare not say I will but wish I may My pride is checkt high wordes the speaker spilt My good ô Lord thy gift thy strength my stay Giue what thou bidst and then bid what thou wilt VVorke with me what thou of me do'st request Then will I dare the most and vow the best Prone looke crost armes bent knee and contrite hart Deepe sighes thicke sobs dew'd eyes prostrate praiers Most humbly beg release of earned smart And sauing shroud in mercies sweete repaires If iustice should my wrongs with rigor wage Feares would dispaires ruth breed a hopelesse rage Lazar at pitties gate I vlcered lye Crauing the reffues crummes of childrens plate My sores I lay in view to mercies eye My rags beare witnesse of my poore estate The wormes of conscience that within me swarme Proue that my plaints are lesse then is my harme VVith mildnesse Iesu measure my offence Let true remorse thy due reuenge abate Let teares appease when trespasse doth incense Let pittie temper thy deserued hate Let grace forgiue let loue forget my fall VVith feare I craue with hope I humbly call Redeeme my lapse with raunsome of thy loue Trauerse th'inditement rigors doome suspend Let frailtie fauour sorrowes succour moue Be thou thy selfe though changling I offend Tender my sute clense this defiled denne Cancell my debts sweet Iesu say Amen The end of Saint Peters complaint MARY MAGDALENS BLVSH THE signes of shame that staine my blushing face Rise from the feeling of my rauing fits VVhose ioy annoy whose guerdon is disgrace VVhose solace flyes whose sorrow neuer flits Bad seede I sow'd worse fruite is now my gaine Soone dying mirth begat long liuing paine Now pleasure ebbes reuenge beginnes to flow One day doth wreake the wrath that many wrought Remorse doth tcach my guiltie thoughts to know How cheape I sould that Christ so deerely bought Faults long vnfelt doth conscience now bewray VVhich cares must cure and teares must wash away All ghostly dynts that grace at me did dart Like stubborne rocke I forced to recoyle To other flights an ayme I made my hart whose wounds then wel-come now haue wrought my foyle VVoe worth the bow woe worth the archers might That draue such arrowes to the marke so right To pull them out to leaue them in is death One to this world one to the world to come VVounds may I weare and draw a doubtfull breath But then my wounds will worke a dreadfull dome And for a world whose pleasures passe away I lose a world whose ioyes are past decay O sence ô soule ô had ô hoped blisse You wooe you weane you draw you driue me back Your crosse encountring like their combate is That neuer end but with some deadly wrack VVhen sence doth winne the soule doth loose the field And present haps make future hopes to yeeld O heauen lament sence robbeth thee of Saints Lament ô soules sence spoyleth you of grace Yet sence doth scarse deserue these hard complaints Loue is the thiefe sence but the entring place Yet graunt I must sence is not free from sinne For theefe he is that theefe admitteth in ¶ Marie Magdalens complaynt at Christes death SIth my life from life is parted Death come take thy portion VVho suruiues when life is murdred Liues by meere extortion All that liue and not in God Couch their life in deaths abod Seely starres must needes leaue shining VVhen the sunne is shaddowed Borrowed streames refraine their running VVhen head springs are hindered One that liues by others breath Dieth also by his death O true life since thou hast left me Mortall life is tedious Death it is to liue without thee Death of all most odious Turne againe or take me to
age how Christ his childhood spent All earthly pennes vnworthy were to write Such acts to mortall eyes he did present VVhose worth not men but Angels must recite No natures blots no childish faults defilde VVhere grace was guide and God did play the childe In springing locks lay couched hoarie wit In semblance young a graue and auncient port In lowly lookes high Maiestie did sit In tender tongue sound sence of sagest sort Nature imparted all that shee could teach And God supplied where nature could not reach His mirth of modest meane a mirrour was His sadnesse tempered with a milde aspect His eye to try each action was a glas VVhose lookes did good approue and bad correct His natures gifts his grace his word and deede VVell shewed that all did from a God proceede A child my choyse LEt folly praise that fancie loues I praise and loue that child Whose hart no thought whose tong no word whose hand no deed defild I praise him most I loue him best all praise and loue is his While him I loue in him I liue and cannot liue amisse Loues sweetest mark lawdes highest theme mans most desired light To loue him life to leaue him death to liue in him delight He mine by gift I his by debt thus each to others due First friend he was best friend he is all times will try him true Though young yet wise though smal yet strong though man yet God he is As wise he knowes as strong he can as God he loues to blisse His knowledge rules his strength defends his loue doth cherish all His birth our ioye his life our light his death our end of thrall Alas he weepes he sighes he pants yet doo his Angels sing Out of his teares his sighes and throbs doth buda ioyfull spring Almightie babe whose tender armes can force all foes to flie Correct my faults protect my life direct me when I die Content and rich IDwell in graces court Enrich'd with vertues rights Faith guides my wit loue leades my will Hope all my mind delights In lowly vales I mount To pleasures highest pich My seely shrowd true honor brings My poore estate is rich My conscience is my crowne Contented thoughts my rest My hart is happie in it selfe My blisse is in my brest Enough I reckon welth A meane the surest lot That lies too high for base contempt Too low for enuies shot My wishes are but few All easie to fulfill I make the limites of my power The bondes vnto my will I haue no hopes but one VVhich is of heauenly raigne Effects attaind or not desir'd All lower hopes resraine I feele no care of coyne VVeldoing is my welth My minde to me an empire is VVhile grace affordeth health I clyp high-clyming thoughts The wings of swelling pride Their fall is worst that from the hight Of greatest honour slide Sith sayles of largest size The storme doth soonest teare I beare so low and small a sayle As freeth me from feare I wrastle not with rage VVhile furies flame doth burne It is in vaine to stop the streame Vntill the tide doth turne But when the flame is out and ebbing wrath doth end I turne a late enraged foe Into a quiet friend And taught with often proofe A tempered calme I finde To be most solace to it selfe Best cure for angrie minde Spare diet is my fare My clothes more fit then fine I know I feede and cloth a foe That pamp'red would repine I enuie not their happe VVhom fauour doth aduance I take no pleasure in their paine That haue lesse happie chance To rise by others fall I deeme a loosing gaine All states with others ruines built To ruine runne a-maine No change of fortunes calmes Can cast my comforts downe VVhen fortune smiles I smile to thinke How quickly shee will frowne And when in froward moode She proues an angrie foe Small gaine I found to let her come Lesse losse to let her goe Losse in delayes SHun delayes they breed remorse Take thy time while time doth serue thee Creeping Snayles haue weakest force Flie theyr fault least thou repent thee Good is best when soonest wrought Lingring labours come to nought Hoise vp saile while gale doth last Tide and wind stay no mans pleasure Seeke not time when time is past Sober speede is wisedomes leysure After wits are dearely bought Let thy fore-wit guide thy thought Time weares all his lockes before Take thou hold vpon his fore-head VVhen he flies he turnes no more And behind his scalpe is naked VVorkes aiournd haue many stayes Long demurres breede new delayes Seeke thy salue while sore is greene Festred wounds aske deeper launcing After cures are seldome seene Often sought scarce euer chauncing Time and place giue best aduise Out of season out of prise Crush the Serpent in the head Breake ill egges ere they be hatched Kill bad Chickins in the tread Fligge they hardly can be catched In the rysing stifle ill Least it grow against thy will Drops doe pierce the stubborne flint Not by force but often falling Custome kils with feeble dint More by vse then strength preuailing Single sands haue little waight Many make a drowning fraight Tender twigs are bent with ease Aged trees doe breake with bending Young desires make little prease Growth doth make them past amending Happy man that soone doth knock Bable babes against the rocke Loues seruile Lot LOue mistris is of many minds Yet few know whom they serue They reckon least how little loue Theyr seruice doth deserue The will shee robbeth from the wit The sence from reasons lore Shee is delightfull in the rine Corrupted in the core Shee shroudeth vice in vertues vaile Pretending good in ill Shee offereth ioy affoordeth griefe A kisse where shee doth kill A honny shower raines from her lyps Sweet lights shine in her face Shee hath the blush of virgine mind The minde of Vipers race She makes thee seek yet feare to find To find but not enioy In many frownes some gliding smiles Shee yeelds to more anoy She wooes thee to come neere her fire Yet doth shee draw it from thee Farre off she makes thy hart to frie And yet to freeze within thee Shee letteth fall some luring baits For fooles to gather vp Too sweet too sowre to euery tast Shee tempereth her cup. Soft soules she bindes in tender twist Small Flyes in spinners webbe Shee sets a floote some luring streames But makes them soone to ebbe Her watrie eyes haue burning force Her floods and flames conspire Teares kindle sparkes sobbes fuell are And sighes doe blow her fire May neuer was the Month 〈…〉 oue For May is full of flowers But rather Aprill wet by kind For loue is full of showers Like tyrant cruell wounds she giues Like Surgeon salue shee lends But salue and sore haue equall force For death is both their ends VVith soothing wordes inthralled soules Shee chaines in seruile bands Her eye in silence hath a speach VVhich eye best vnderstands Her
stile This brought him from the rankes of heau'nly quires Into this vale of teares and cursed soyle From flowers of grace into a world of bryers From life to death from blisse to balefull toyle This made him wander in our Pilgrim weede And tast our torments to relieue our neede O soule do not thy noble thoughtes abase To lose thy loues in any mortall wight Content thine eye at home with natiue grace Sith God him selfe is rauisht with thy sight If on thy beautie God enamored bee Base is thy loue of any lesse then hee Giue not assent to muddy minded skill That deemes the feature of a pleasing face To be the sweetest baite to lure the will Not valewing right the worth of ghostly grace Let Gods and Angels censure winne beliefe That of all beauties iudge our soules the chiefe Queene Hester was of rare and pearlesse hew And Iudeth once for beautie bare the vaunt But he that could our soules endowments vew Would soone to soules the Crowne of beauty graunt O soule out of thy selfe seeke God alone Grace more then thine but Gods the world hath none Lewd Loue is Losse MIsdeeming eye that stoupest to the lure Of mortall worthes not worth so worthy loue All beauties base all graces are impure That do thy erring thoughts from God remoue Sparkes to the fire the beames yeelde to the sunne All grace to God from whom all graces runne If picture moue more should the patterne please No shaddow can with shaddowed things compare And fayrest shapes whereon our loues do seaze But seely signes of Gods high beauties are Goe steruing sence feede thou on earthly mast True loue in Heau'n seeke thou thy sweet repast Gleane not in barren soyle these offall eares Sith reap thou maiest whole haruests of delight Base ioyes with griefes bad hopes do end in feares Lewd loue with losse euill peace with deadly fight Gods loue alone doth end with endlesse ease VVhose ioyes in hope whose hope concludes in peace Let not the luring traine of fansies trap Or gracious features proofes of natures skill Lull reasons force a sleepe in errors lap Or draw thy wit to bent of wanton will The fayrest flowers haue not the sweetest smell A seeming heauen proues oft a damning hell Selfe-pleasing soules that play with beauties bayte In shyning shroud may swallow fatall hooke VVhere eager sight or semblant faire doth waite A locke it proues that first was but a looke The fish with ease into the Net doth glide But to get out the way is not so wide So long the flie doth dallie with the flame Vntill his singed wings doe force his fall So long the eye doth follow fancies game Till loue hath left the hart in heauie thrall Soone may the minde be cast in Cupids Iayle But hard it is imprisoned thoughts to bayle O loath that loue whose finall ayme is lust Moth of the mind eclypse of reasons light The graue of grace the mole of natures rust The wrack of wit the wrong of euery right In summe an euill whose harmes no tongue can tell In which to liue is death to dye is hell Loues Garden griefe VAine loues auaunt infamous is your pleasure Your ioy deceit Your iewels iests worthlesse trash your treasure Fooles common bait Your pallace is a prison that allureth To sweet mishap and rest that paine procureth Your garden griefe hedg'd in with thornes of enuie And stakes of strife Your Allyes errour graueled with iealousie And cares of life Your bankes are seates enwrapt with shades of sadnes Your Arbours breed rough fittes of raging madnes Your beds are sowne with seedes of all iniquitie And poys'ning weedes VVhose stalks euill thoughts whose leaues words full of vanitie VVhose fruite misdeedes VVhose sap is sinne whose force and operation To banish grace and worke the soules damnation Your trees are dismall plants of pyning corrosiues VVhose roote is ruth VVhose barke is bale whose timber stubborne fantasies VVhose pyth vntruth On which in liew of birdes whose voyce delighteth Of guiltie conscience screching note affrighteth Your coolest summer gales are scalding sighings Your showers are teares Your sweetest smell the stench of sinfull liuing Your fauoures feares Your gardener sathan all you reape is miserie Your gaine remorse and losse of all felicitie From Fortunes reach LEt fickle fortune runne her blindest rase I setled haue an vnremoued mind I scorne to be the game of fansies chase Or vane to shew the chaunge of euery wind Light giddy humors stinted to no rest Still chaunge their choyce yet neuer chose the best My choyse was guided by fore-sightfull heede It was auerred with approuing will It shal be followed with performing deede And seal'd with vow till death the chooser kill Yea death though finall date of vaine desires Endes not my choyse which with no time expires To beauties fading blisse I am no thrall I bury not my thoughts in mettall Mynes I aime not at such fame as feareth fall I seeke and find a light that euer shynes VVhose glorious beames display such heauenly sights As yeeld my soule a summe of all delights My light to loue my loue to lyfe doth guyde To life that liues by loue and loueth light By loue to one to whom all loues are tyde By dewest debt and neuer equall right Eyes light harts loue soules truest life he is Consorting in three ioyes one perfect blisse FINIS Ma Mat Ioh. Ma◠Lu◠16 Ioh 6. 4. 17. Exod◠2. R◠3. R◠Iud◠Ca 〈…〉 2. Reg. Can. 5. 12. Exod. 1 verse 6 Psal. 6 Tob 〈…〉 3 7 Gene 〈…〉 Gene 〈…〉 2 Re 〈…〉 〈…〉 2. 11. 17. 〈…〉 8.