well as wasts And that strong Rime their ruine farre out-lasts My Muse shall labour on this ground of Fame To raise a Pile of Rime whereon thy Name Shall euer shine through Wits Celestiall Plashes Vntill another Phoenix of the Ashes Produced be that when it eft shall burne In those eternall flames it eft may turne To pristine plight and by such alteration Liue Phoenix-like still bright in admiration 3 We waile their want whose Liues our wants supplide Not weighing how they liu'd but when they dide For the best liuers here doe liuing dye But after death they liue immortally Children and Fooles are angry still with those That to distill disleaue the fairest Rose Not pond'ring how the sweetnesse in the Iuyce Is so increast and longer lasts for vse So we that see this Rose whose hue and breath Celestiall were diuided so by Death Though it for heau'nly purposes be done Yet still our thoughts but on the spoile doe runne But ô be 't farre from vs to thinke thee spoil'd In liuing blest and dying so vnsoil'd No we thy Memory will celebrate Whose weale we waile not but reioyce thereat If in this Paper Monument there be One Ornament of Arte that 's worthy thee Or any Worke of Wit that may retaine Thy Memory my Labour for my Paine Is too great Meede sith by the same I show Times future what will better them to know So shall I in thy Praise include mine owne And making thee so knowne still still be knowne For if this Shrine chance to be visited By any that regard the worthy dead It may be they will thinke me worthy Loue That on this Pile did all my cunning proue Th' Egyptians with their Pirameds did striue Against the Heau'ns to keepe such dead aliue And Artemisia with a matchlesse Tombe Makes her Mausolus liue vntill the doome Though It be now demolished and gone Yet is he knowne by It as It was knowne And Wit but with meere Words hath often rais'd A Monument of Praise farre longer prais'd Then may this Worke which but weake words erect Vpon so sure a Ground worke like effect The Name of Egerton she doth renowne And that by which she last of all was known Nay had she had by Fortune all the Names That Wit for Natures vilest Creatures frames Sh 'had so much Grace consorting still her Bloud As to haue made them all as great as good The Dayes of old did lay their Macchabes Vnder Worlds-wonders huge Piramides Semiramis in her bright Polymite And Cyrus in his Obelisk as bright In his Columna they Augustus shut And in his Mole-magno Hadrian put Alaricus the Gothe that ruinde Rome In his rich Rubico they did entombe Those dead yet liu'd by these and these againe Liue yet by those though nought of them remaine But were I able I my Saint would shrine Within the mouthes of Angels most diuine Sith they out-last all Worlds that Time doth end And haue of creatures best mouthes to commend But liue sweet Saint in mine immortall Rime Made by thy vertue such past Tombes and Time For if eternall Vertue cannot dye Then thou must liue till She doth ruin'd lye Farewell deare Maide whose body like a soule Had pow'r t' inflame the Loue it did controule Farewell while we by thy deare losse fare ill That is while griefes doe grow the Heart to fill For she that held all Hearts by her deserts To her entire her Death must breake all Hearts Ye Ladyes that aliue doe inly loue So much o'er-weening that doth mortall proue Looke not ascue nor turne the Head aside As if you could no Praise but yours abide At these iust Praises Relickes of the Dead But learne by them to be so honoured Enuy doth leaue the Enui'd at the Graue That Fort from Enuy should the Vertuous saue Then ô exalt these Lauds vnlesse you will Be rather pittied then enuide still Poets I grant haue libertie to giue More height to Grace then the Superlatiue So hath a Painter licence too to paint A Saint-like face till it the Saint out saint But Truth which now mine Art to shaddow striues Makes licence larger by the grace she giues But yet To say thou wast the Forme that is the soule Of all this All I should thee misenroule In Booke of Life which on the Earth they keepe That of Arts fountaines haue carowsed deepe Nay so I should displease and wrong thee both For vniust praise thou canst not chose but lothe That lothed'st it here then there more past compare For hee 's the Soule of All by whom they are But I may say and none the same gainsayes Thou art the soule of this thy World of Praise Whose soule did animate thy small-world too To be the soule of all that here I doe Oft haue I seene thee nay I see thee yet Whose face and manners I shall ne'er forget When as thine eares had heard or eyes had seene Ought that to Vertue had offensiue beene Thy face and brest with that faire blush o'erflow Which Modestie not Bashfulnesse doth owe. In these bold Times it 's held a Tricke too fresh Of vnbred Indians so to paint the flesh For any cause but this is but th' effect Of Impudence the Times soules chiefe affect No Parts i◠laudable at Court requir'd But they attir'd thee in thy state retir'd Yet thou so modestly didst act them still As that the light'st seem'd graue against their will What shall I say in thee was nought so small That was not greatly prais'd and lou'd of All This shewes thy Mother true vnto thy Sire Whose worths in loue set all the World on fire Thou his true Daughter likewise dost the same While thou goest through Obliuion by the flame The Soule a two-fold action hath that is Originall and Instrumentall this By Nature doth the like produce but that Meere Intellectual doth not generate Though Nature yet could not so high aspire Thou in thy spirit wast like thine honor'd Sire By speciall grace of Heau'n for in your Birth Such Planets met as deckt and ioyde the Earth But ô too soone the earth quite lost that Ioy And in that losse found infinite Annoy Such is the staylesse state of Things below That doe but vanish while they seeme to grow Beneath the Moone all is but like the Moone Constant in nothing but in changing soone And so will be while they remaine beneath Resting from changing onely but in Death As when the Whirle-windes in their wheeling play Pursue their Turnes till in their Center they Returne into themselues so Nature goes On in her Course which first from forme arose Vntill this World of forme be dispossest And Nature in the Chaos takes her rest That Time runs round by this dark Riddle 's bright A Father hath twelue sonnes halfe blacke halfe white And eu'ry sonne hath thirty which still liue And when their sires decease they them reuiue So sire and sous still die but die in vaine For still the thirty
doâ— bestow a Wise-mans â—ee Which thâ—se wise Seers onely doe fore-see Sinfull Curiositie had rather be acquainted with the Diuell then with God or his Saints HAue any made a Cou'nant with blacke Hell and are Familiar with infernall Sprights They shall be sought to wheresoe'er they dwell for many Soules desire to see those sights But liues Elias most familiar with GOD and Heau'n where great ones most frequent He liues as in his firie Câ—ach he were for none comes neere so meere an Innocent Thus doth the Diuell Lord it o'er the Aire and those that most doe prize It while his slaues Are more sought to then Saints or Angels faire though such Fiends bideing be among the graues Then what so senselesse as the World to take Delight in Diu'ls and in Hell for their sake Againe of the same WEre Bacon and that Vandermast aliue Aire if liue they did where Men might draw but They with a mischieâ—e wold much more than thriue for they would smothred be with Mens repaire Some Bladuds would inuest them with their Robes nay Crowne them too to learne them but to flye That so they might but glide about the Globes to be admir'd for Iack-dawes qualitie So much Men singularitie affect that to be singular though but in Toyes They 'l freâ—ly giue what they doe most respect so much their inward Man loues outward Ioyes Nay Men to Hell will creep from out the Croude Ere they 'l be drowned in the Multitude That Persecutors of Truth are their owne Tormentors IF Vertues Sonnes be plagu'd with Vices Broode sith they by Nature still doe disagree It 's for the vicious plague and vertuous good which both shall here or else-where shortly see If our good life our Enemies encrease that bad encrease in that great good is drown'd Who fight against themselues but for our Peace and through our Weeds their Hearts and Soules do wound Our Sauiour through his Death did Death subdue to make vs conquer by enduring strife Then what though They to Death doe vs pursue when through our Death they dye to giue vs liâ—e But with such proofes none but such Saints are prou'd That of his Iudge in death was fear'd and lou'd The righteous in Ioy or Griefe Life or Death GOD keepes as his Treasure FEll Malice most of her owne Poison drinkes for them she plagues doe sippe but of the toppe But she of that which to the Bottome sinckes to worke in Her Perdition without Hope Impietie and Plagues are of an age being burnt not in the Hand but in the Heart For who against the good doe battaile wage shall perish through his pow'r that takes their part And if for vertue Men are made away GOD takes for sacrifice their sufferings But when by course of Nature they decay he then receiues them as Peace-offerings So that in life and death the righteous rest As th' Apple of his Eye as safe as blest That mens Deuotions towards God and Goodnesse are most mutable NOught in our Life endures so many Turnes as our Deuotion off on in and out Now cold as Yce and by and by It burnes scarse in one moode while we can turne about If good we heare perhaps we thinke thereon but be it ill ill past perhaps we minde Thus rowle we euer like a thriftlesse stone till Death vs stay by force or Course of kinde From Sinne to Sinne as Flies from sore to sore we still doe shift the best Men Men are still The worst are worse than Beasts to kill or store for they are leaue in good but fat in ill Then blest are they that neyther fat nor leaue Haue rowl'd to Rest but with the Golden-meane To my most honored and approued best Friend and Alye Sr. Fran Louell Knâ—ght God takes the Will for the Deede ALthough we doe not all the good we loue but still in loue desire to doe â—he same Nor leaue the Sinnes we hate but â—â—â—ing moue our Soule and Bodyes Pow'rs their forcâ— to tame The good wee doe GOD takes as done aright that we desire to doe He takes as done The Sinne we shunne He will with Grace requiâ—e and not impute the Sinne we seeke to shunne But good Desires produce no worser Deedes for GOD doth both together lightly giue Because He knowes a righteous Man must needes by Faith that workes by Loue for euer liue then to doe nought but onely in desire Is Loue that burnes but burnes like painted fire The Vertuous liue well for Vertues sake the Vicious for feare of Punishment THree things in Iudgement haue obserued bin to woâ—k with wicked ones shame griefe feare And yet without shame griefe or feare they sinne till Iudgement strict beginneth to appeare If Iudgement then haue force t'extort these three they haue no Iudgement that will not preuent This sore Extortion with an easie fee that is liue well if not then well repent But are these two performed with such ease Gods Yâ—ake is easie and his burden light And such as cannot well away with these can neyther liue well nor repent aright But if they cannot much lesse can they beare What Iudgement wil extort shame griefe feare That there is no peace to the Wicked THe Wickeds rest is like the raging Deepe whose smoothest Peace is rough intestine War With whose Alar'ms they often start in sleepe whose Heart-strings with such fretting Stops doe iarre Yet as the Sea seemes calme as other Brookes till Windes arise wherewith they rage as mad So oft the Wicked-man as smoothly lookes in prosperous state as he whom GOD doth glad And in this plight he Saint it can aswell at least in shew as can the holiest Saint Yea can for glory in Good-workes excell and Pietie in Word and Deed depaint But when Afflictions flawes beginne to blow He playes the Diuell both in Deed and Show That a vexed Conscience is the onely Hell on Earth THe Bodies rest doth most disease the Soule that is diseased with Sinnes sorest Sting For then the Thoughts about that Pricke doe roule and to the Soule an Hell of Horror bring The Minde then looking into Fancies Mirrour sees nothing there but Sinne that sits a-Broode On grimme Chimaeraes and sights full of horror so to confound the Minde or mad her mood For when Sinne onely fronts the Phantasie that Glasse reflects these horrid Formes by kinde Then when the body most alone doth lye these Monsters muster most about the Minde O! Plague of plagues when Sense nor Reas'n can spye A Reall Obiect from a Phantasie Phantasie a great Comforter or Tormenter GIue me Iobs Botches Naamans Leprosie nay giue me All that plagues the outward sense Rather then Terrors of the Phantasie crawling from out an Hell of Conscience And giue me all the Hels the Damn'd endure this Hell alone excepted I will be Able to make them Heau'ns in Conscience pure through Operations of the Phantasie Asleepe awake in Company alone past-vnderstanding Peace and Ioyes past Ioy In our Mindes Kingdome
doth play One dyes with Sicknesse Thought another kils With Hunger this with Thirst that man doth pine Some Water choakes an Halter others spils Some Fire consumes some Beasts deuoure in fine This man he murders with the ruthlesse Sword That man with Poyson he doth suffocate With Bullet this that with a bitter Word He ends and others end with worser Fate No Flesh though fram'd in height of Natures skill With composition more then halfe diuine But it is subiect made to death vntill Th' Immortall doe that mortall flesh refine Thus all he ends yet none their ends fore-know A secret t' is to Death himselfe vnknowne Whom he must strike thy finger Lord must show Nor dares he shoot til thou the Mark hast showne To some he is thy mercies Minister To other some the Engine of thy wrath This sadnesse to my Soule doth minister For bleeding Conscience many faintings hath But wash the same with thy sweet mercies dewe And it annoint with vnction spirituall Then health and rest and peace shall straight ensue Which to my Conscience will be cordiall I haue discourst to thine all-hearing Eares My dismall plight in dolefull Elegie With Tragick accents accents causing teares Sad teares attending matchlesse misery Thy pitties Eare therefore bowe downe O Lord To these most pensiue and most iust complaints Let mercies Eyes with pitties Eares accord To chear the conscience that with bleeding faints In hope were of my soule shall rest in peace Till thou vouchsafe to send her full release A Confession of a Sinner acknowledging the misery of humane frailtie CElestiall Lord Creator of this ALL Embracer Prop and Ruler of the same Whose vnseene Eye beholds the generall And singly seest at once this double Frame O vaile that Christall-cleere all-seeing eye On vtter-darknesse that Lord that am I. Mine Intellect is darke darke my soules sight My body darke darke dungeon of my soule Is opposite for darknesse to thy light What can be darker or more vgly foule Thus darknesse striuing much more darke to be Hell being too light infus'd it selfe in me O Iustice Sunne with Taper pointed beames Dart through this Darknesse open loopes for light By which the influence of thy lights leames Through my darke soule may be dispersed quight For what is that which extreame darknes cleares But extreame light of lights when it appeares Where extreame darknesse harbours there is Hell In me deare Lord of Heauen that hell is plac't My heart hard hart wherein all horrors dwell With vexing thoughts like Fiends away doth wast My Conscience quite confounded with my misse Is lowest Hell where highest Anguish is Descend sweet Christ and harrow with thy Crosse This hell of Conscience flee my soule from thence It is thine owne deare Lord it is thy losse If it doe perish through my sinnes offence Why sinne is nothing then for thing of nought Lose not my soule poore purchase dearly boght In Deaths dark shade o'er-shadowed with my sinne Vpon the black pit brinck of deepe Despaire I lye deare Lord halfe out but more halfe in Help help ô help Lord heare Lord heare my prayer Now now ô now if euer help me now I sincke I sincke help ere I sincke too low Remember Lord Lord call to minde againe The drops strange drops of Water mixt with Bloud Which from thy paine-prest Body ranne amaine What time on ground it lay in pensiue moode If then thou praid'st that Cup might passe froÌ„ thee I well may pray let this Cup passe from mee A Cup of cares confected by sowre sinne Baning my Soule with bitter operation Let this Cup passe before I doe beginne Least it effect my crazed soules damnation O thou that felt'st fraile mans infirmitie Respect fraile Me else in despaire I die Whose Faith too like a feather in the winde Is tossed with the least temptations blast With doubtings daunted when the faithfull finde A calme in conscience till such stormes are past But I vile wretch am tossed to and fro With eu'ry Storme that rise or Blast that blow See Lord ah see see see how all my Veynes Do pant with paine through sense of my misdeedes Behold my Heart wherein all sorrow raignes Griefe-wounded heart behold it how it bleedes O poure therein thy precious Balmes of grace That from thy wounded Heart doe runne apace Where 's Much forgiu'n Loue must there be much Forgiue me Much much more shall be my loueâ— I haue Much to forgiue no sinner such My Sinne surmounting Loue shall be aboue Forgiue me then and I in Loue will striue To match that more then Much thou dost forgiue Be thou for me vnto the Old of dayes My Daysman so to stay his angers heate That for thy sake he would vouchsafe to raise His vengeance siege which my Soules wrack doth threat O tel him to his Grace I weakling yeeld And giue him praise and glory of the Field O pray him bend his pu'sance on the proud Whose brazen Necks will rather breake then bowe I creeping on my knees doe seeke for shrowde Till Tempests of his fury ouer-blow And like a Spaniell at his Maisters threat In humble wise fall prostrate at his feete With eyes vp-lifted slowly by degrees And lifted so are throwne downe straight againe With face confounded on his humbled knees Inuoking mercy yet doth mute remaine O so euen so doe I poore wretched I At foote but of his Foote-stoole crowching lye If this may moue and mouing may prouoke Thy sans-beginning Sire in Loue to stay Of his iust vengeance the resistlesse stroke A touch whereof doth Rockes to poâ—der bray I will ascribe the praise ô Christ to thee Sith for thy sake alone he spareth me My strength 's not stony nor my flesh yet brasse O no then weaknesse much more weake it is Apt still to fall more brittle farre then glasse Compos'd of that that 's more then most amisse O how vnable then am I to beare His heauy vengeance stroke that rocks doth teare With hands of Mercie stay my sincking Soule Which were in mercy mercilesly wounded For me vile wretch and for my trespasse foule That Grace might o'er abound where Sin abounded They are not shortned since they racked were For Sinne that Sinne might sinnelesse so appeare With those same hands deare Lord my Soule sustain Opprest with Poâ—se that made thy man-hood grone My load 's as great though farre lesse be my paine Whose sinne 's as great as all the worlds alone Then Worlds of Sin when on my backe I beare What meruell is 't I faint if not despaire Froth of Infirmitie and Weaknesse skumme I am no other how then should I beare The heauy sentence of true Iustice doome If to this Load of Sinne it added were None but a God and Man can beare that waight Sith God Man bow'd vnder-neath that fraight I am farre spent ô be not farre from me I panting labour neere the latest gaspe My Soule dismai'd not knowing where to flee With hands of Hope wan
Wonders of thy Law they cannot finde Thy Will then shewne and hidden in thy Word is hid though shewne from those not prompt by thee Though Camels there may swim and Gnats may ford yet both may drowne if there too bold they be In shallow'st places there great Clarkes haue suncke into the depth of Heresie and drew Whole Nations after them yea made Kings drunke therewith while they Beleeuers-right pursue So then as none could euer see the Sunne but by the Sunne so none can rightly see Thee in thy Word but by reflexion of that pure Light of Lights that comes from thee If so then light me in that Light thy Word sith thou art Light of lights else may mine Eyes Be daz'led and so drowne me in each Ford of those pure Riuers of thy Paradise Thy Word is Truth but those it doth misguide that know not well thy Language nor will know Sith they will learne but of them selues and Pride so not thy Word but they are erring so None can be sau'd without they doe thy Will which none can doe vnlesse the same they know And none can know it much lesse it fulfill if it by speciall grace thou doe not show Then if thou wilt that I shall saued be for thou wilt no mans Death that seekes thy face Let me be taught to know thy Will by thee and made to doe it by thy Pow'r and Grace So shall I finde what I am seeking still To know Thee well and well to doe thy Will An Inuocation against vse of offending or bad Custome DEare Lord while I bethinke me of the Ils that me surround and waigh the Woes I feele Through mine owne fault which me with Sorrow fils from Life to Death I ready am to reele The Sunne of my Care-clouded life hath past his full Meridian and doth now decline To Seas of griefes where Age doth sincke at last and at each breath Death seekes it to define Vse of offending in my passed Dayes doth passe my strēgth to change thogh faine I wold Custome to Nature turn'd my Nature swayes and of my selfe the while I haue no hold Yet if I dye ere so bad vse I leaue my life must leaue me hopelesse at my death For what I giue to GOD I shall receiue and as I spend so shall I yeeld my Breath I minde to mend but still procrastinate for my Familiar Sinne is loth to part And doth my halfe-dead body animate to vse her still so wounds and heales my Heart But sith I am not sure to breath once more and that my life and death are well-neere met And Death t'eternall Weale or woe 's the Doore why sinne I now my lifes Sunne neere is set What is in Sinne that it should so be witch A bitter-sweete if Sweete it be and makes The Body glad but still the Soule to grutch and eu'n from life the vitall-vertue takes The wisest yet that euer breath'd this Aire of Humane Race well tride it to be so Whose equall Wealth and Wisedome did repaire to all in Nature but this Sweete to know And yet he found the Sow'r excell'd the Sweet the Sweet but short the Sow'r surmounting Time Wee want his Meanes his high Delights to meete yet hazard we our soules to them to climbe Lord make me wise by his experience who in great wealth and Wisedome plaid the Foole And for meere Folly was at huge expence then let his follies me still wisely schoole Yea let me learne of Him that all doth teach of whom the wisest learne Sinnes snares to shunne He was a King and Preacher and did preach that All is vanitie beneath the Sunne If all be vaine beneath and true he sayes let me aboue the Sunne seeke true delight Which I shall finde by walking in thy Wayes so thou deare Lord consort me with thy Spright O then consort me so and with his pow'r enable me all lets to ouer-runne Let me not stay one Minute of an How'r to ioy in any thing beneath the Sunne But in thy Sunne of Iustice let me ioy which fils the Heau'ns and Earth with purest light Then let all other ioyes my soule annoy that so in him I may alone delight Thou canst doe this then doubt I not thy Will Which still is good then my good-will fulfill The Sinner refers his Will to Gods will in all things desiring helpe for perseuerance therein DEare Lord and God true Louer of my Soule in my desires I wholy doe resigne vnto thy blessed Will this Will of mine To forme reforme direct and still controule And as my Soule my body moues alone without whose motion it would still be still so let thy Sp'rit still moue my soule and will Else let them haue no motion of their owne Let me forsake my selfe for thy deare sake yea truely hate my selfe for loue of thee and let no pleasures please or profit me If thou deare Lord at them displeasure take I offer vnto thee mine All and more had I much more than All to mortifie my senses and affections that thereby I may so mortifide liue euermore My selfe I likewise offer to the lack of sensible deuotion grace and loue so it may humble me and make me proue Thy might the more in my sinnes vtter wracke I offer too my selfe with prompt desire t' indure all losse in name fame goods and friends all pleasure paine and what else flesh offends That by their waight my sp'rit may mount the higher In summe I offer vp my selfe aboue my selfe to all mischance that can befall saue sinne alone yet if thy goodnesse shall Put me in Hell I le brooke it for thy Loue. And though it be impossible for Flesh to suffer it yet should my Will be prest If thou would'st haue it so in Hell to rest For Loue in quenchlesse flames can sense refresh Then loue me Lord and still my loue enflame then put me where thou wilt I le there abide without repining ire or ghostly pride With Martyrs that in torments laud thy Name But sith by reason of my Flesh too fraile I cannot be so prompt these paines to brooke then help me Lord but with a louing looke And ouer Death and Hell I shall preuaile Looke kindly on me then deare Lord and so Our Wils shall still be one in weale and woe The Sinner desires fruition of the Deitie and that his Soule should be euer the habitation thereof ETernall LORD who art more prompt to heare then Faith to pray of that great grace of thine Regard the Boone I aske in Loue and Feare and to mine humble suite thine eares incline Grant me fruition of thy DEITIE that all my Soule may so be satisfied For lesse then that can her not satisfie though all els boundlesse were still amplifide Those gifts and graces that thy Grace may moue t' inhabit my poore Soule vouchsafe thou me That with thy gifts thy grace may be in Loue and loue my Soule for harbring them and thee But in those gifts
kill But here 's the ods those in close-prison pend are there with Death much more familiar made So that in fauor he their griefes doth end for endlesse ioyes and peace which cannot fade But those that loosely haue the World at will doe take their swinge as Fish if hang'd desire Till they be tirde with Pleasure paining still then gently come to Hand so to the Fire And see how those that care consum'd doe climbe at Sternes of State still menac'd to be riu'n How publicke Toyles engrosse their priuate time that they can scarse a Moment spare for Heau'n And publicke Persons if they mightie be the publicke state and theirs they still must eye So to their Soules they scarse haue time to sâ—e which so neglected oft vnwares doe dye Then noble Lord if in thy selfe confinde thou art most happy thus confinde to be And sith our Bodyes doe but Iaile our Minde while we haue Bodyes we can ne'er be free Then if thou weigh'st the volubilitie of Time or Fauour Fortune or this ALL Thou wilt but lothe their loose vncertaintie for hardly Ought doth rise but soone to fall Who rul'd this Realme three thousand yeeres agone so many rul'd it since that none doth know A Plow-mans bloud in time ascends a Throne And Royall Bloud descends vnto the Plow Yet that King knowes not from the Cart he came much lesse that Carter knowes he came from Kings But Times vicissitude is Fortunes game whose Rest puts vp and downe all eathly Things Then if wee looke on Life how fraile is that resembled to a shadow of a Dreame To smoake t' a thought to nought t'I wot not what farre lesse then nought that can so much as seeme A Grape-seede one an Haire another spils some Smoak doth choake meer neeâ—ing some destroy Some other Choler and some laughter kils some feare which is strange some die with ioy So that when our last Graine is running out no Graine so small but turnes our flesh to dust Be we as Giants strong as Lyons stout all 's lesse then nothing then to nought we must The Graue too like a Ierfe doth nought but fill his greedy Panch straight out-straines the same Then fill againe then straines then fill it still till it all Flesh consumes that Nature frames One rots therein to giue another place a second to a third and so forth on Till Earth yeeld vp her dead and she embrace her funerall flame to leaâ—e Corruption Then sith that Life and Flesh so soone decay why should our flesh with life be long in loue This world is but an Inne this Life a Way a wrackfull way that Wisedome lothes to proue Which hath of yore made Kings to quit their Crowneâ— the lighter so the Way of life to runne Directed by the Crosse o'er Dales and Downes in priuate Pathes the publike Toyles to shunne We like to Fooles or Babes for Bables long wherewith we hurt ourselâ—es and others oft Yet straight we whyne if they from vs be wroong our Natures towards Folly are so soft But our all-wise-celestiall-louing Sire takes or keepes from his Children which he loues All that may harme them though they it desire but giues though it displease them what behoues Some long for State and what is that but strife more full of trouble then it is of State With dangers mixt a simple Hell of life which none doe loue but those that rest doe hate Some loue to beare the most imbrued Swords before the Maiestie of Victory And what are they but Butchers made of Lords that like fiends Lord it o'er Calamitie Some hidden Artes doe openly desire and seeke for knowledge onely to be knowne But knowledge such is light but of Hell-fire to see with Eue such Prides confusion Some fame affect and for it venter farre seeking by Sea and Land the same finde But Fame most followes those that flee from her and oft who meets her she o'erthrowes with wind In summeâ— both all and some ô strangest Case haue hurtfull humours which if not restrain'd By him that is the Lord of pow'r and Grace all would to nought where Grace should ne'er 〈◊〉 gain'd Then if our Flesh and Sinne-corrupted Blouds could rightly feele they well might see thâ—t Hand That made vs will not marre vs with his goods vnlesse our selues his powerfull Grace with-stand Our dearest Sense is Sight yet if the same offend that Grace we must pull out our Eyes Then must we Limbes of lesse account vnframe much more Things lesse if they against It rise The greatest Crosse is neuer to be crost the Way to Heau'n is by the Ports of Hell The Waters most corrupt that least are tost and their account exceedes who most excell Hee 's rich enough for Vertues choisest friend that neither needes to flatter nor to borrow To lade our Backes with Baggage till they bend wandring in stumbling-wayes augments our soâ—row Abundance is a Burden to the Soule and strongest Soules can hardly it abide For Men that being meane could Pride controule be'ing mightie made are most controul'd by Pride Nature 's suffiz'd with Nothing in respect of that our Wolfe-like Appetites require And they as Naturals great-men reiect whose Soules haue not the pow'r of great Desire But greatest Men haue not still greatest Grace ah would they had then shouldst thou soone be free From thy restraint and all desires are base of Greatnesse that with Goodnesse disagree I wade too farre perhaps in Dangers Deepes that may o'erwhelme the rash though ne'er so tall But Truth 's my Guide and Care my Footing keepes on double Duties Ground and firme in all Yet wot how ill it stands with Policie to fancy those whom Times disfauour most Sith Fancies such acquire but Ielousie if not much worse of those that rule the Roste. For Wise-men shift their Sailes as Winde doth shift and but whom Fortune fauours fauour none For if Kings haue with Fortune beene at shrift they leaue them to their Penance post alone But I conceiue it a prodigious Sinne like that of Iudas Peters I would say Who left his Lord when trouble he was in which in effect is meerely to betray I feare not Iustice sith shee doth command that we should loue our friends in spight of Fate And to the Alter with them goe or stand though we might therefore be o'erthrowne with hate Then Iustice warrants me in what I doe and I will doe but what selfe-Iustice would That 's loue my Liege obey and serue him too yet loue that Lord that likes me as I should Let him haue neuer friend that leaues his friend in shew of sound affection in distresse And let high'st Wit to lowest Hell descend that weighs ought more then some friends heauines Let those that waite on Fortune weigh the Times in Scoles of greatest Sculs I little i Doe little weigh the wayes how other climbes sith I would liue as longing well to dye Beyond my Birth hath Fortune beene my foe she neuer
then themselues enthrone to ouer-sway the Paines that Flesh annoy Then is this Peace and War true Heau'n Hell Where Paine and Pleasure doe themselues excell A wounded Conscience who can beare SAlues Sores doe cure and Medicines Maladies Friendship Oppression Wâ—sed me poore Estate Fauour Restraint and Timâ— Captiuitiâ—s Good life Reproch and louing Manners Hate But these nor ought else that are â—â—st or best except the Highest grace hâ—uâ— pâ—w'r to cure A wounded spirit with Sadnesse stâ—â—l opprest but It doth Death out-liue and Hell oâ—â— dure Were our Meate Manna our Weâ—des Salomons Monarches our Friends and Eden our Free-hold Our Guardes Gâ—â—iaâ—s our Seatesâ— highst Thrones our Houses Siluer hung with Pearle and Gold All these and all what else can Sense delight Doe rather kill than cure a wounded Spirit Death makes Things appeare as they are ENuy and Anger haue some Wise-meâ— kil'd though in those Passions we hold no man wise As fauour and base flatt'ry Fooles haue spild for with them both we Fooles doe Nestorize But when these moodes are with the Parties dead then were they Fooles who wer so wise while-ere And Thâ—y most wise that Fooles were reckoned thus Death doth make Things as they are appeare Flatt'ry adornes Mens Fortunes not the Men and Enuy not their Persons but their Fames Doth seeke to wound so it appeareth then that Wise nor Fooles haue here their proper Names But in the Font of Death they doe receiue Their naked Names which their true Natures giue God and Conscience tels truely what we are and are not as we seeme WHat thou art aske thine Hart and it wil show or aske a Foe that Conscience makes to lie But aske thou noâ— Selfe-loue which cannot know noâ— aske a Friend which can no â—ault espie If we could see our selues then should we see that we are nothing lesse then what we seeme Yet some seeme farre worse than in Deed they be and therefore All this Some doe not esteeme For we know nothing wholy but in part and vnderstand but what we know by Sense We see the Face but cannot see the Heart then showes betray our best Intelligence This makes all wise men that such Secrets know To winne the World a Shadow with a Show That Truth being One and still the same is made by wicked mâ—n to countenance Falshood which is manifold and still vnlike WHen Peace Truth do iarre Peace is not peace then Peace in Truth is that we should ensue Now for this Truth what Warres and Iarres encrease these Times doe â—eele and After-times may rue Yet no Man 's so vniust that will auerre he fights for Falshood but for Truth and Right So iust some say is eu'ry vniust Warre thus Truth is made to countenance each Fight Who euer yet for Heresie hath dide but saith for Truth he dies and so beleeues Or what Sect saith not Truth is on their side so Truth is made a Diuell that deceiues But Truth is God vnmade who in the end Will damne them all that make him such a Fiend That we are naturally bent to Ill but supernaturally to Goodnesse TWixt Sinne and Grace I tost am to and fro as mine Affections please to bandy me From Grace to Sinne I flye but backe I goe and yet I goe as one that faine would flee Nature doth moue the Wings of my Desire to Sinne-wards nimbly but not so to Grace For then she limes them with my fleshes myre that I am forc'd to passe an heauy pace Yet still I stirre those Wings and seeke to breake faile fleshes Bands too strong for me too fraile Who though sometimes I faile of what I seeke yet seeke I what I finde and neuer faile For none seekes Grace that hath not Grace in hold Then Seekers find though oft lesse then they would Abuse is familiar with humane Flesh and Bloud MInding this World I muse at what I minde though It vnworthy be of Minde or Muse I muse that Men are to It so inclinde sith It mindes nought but how Men to abuse From high to low Abuse doth proudly raigne from which the Preist that leads all is not free The Holy hold the Holy in disdaine if with their state their states doe not agree Vertue or Vice are held or good or ill as in this World they thriue or ill or well For Vice is honor'd more then Vertue still if Vices Mannors Vertues doe excell If Manors good doe what good Maners ought That 's make men great great men are made of nought That it is farre better not Be then to be Ill. THe World the Wombe where all misdeeds are bred breedes in my little World such great offence That my Soule great with Sinne 's deliuered of Griefe that gaules my bleeding Conscience The Mid-wife Flesh that did the same produce giues it the Nurse curst Nature it to feede And fattens It with full-Breasts of Abuse so Griefe growes great with Natures grosse misdeeds O Nature Nurse of my Soules foule Disgrace ô World the Nurse of that Nurse grounds of grief Why doe you giue me being time and place sith you doe worse then kill me with reliefe For that reliâ—se that doth but nourish Sinne Makes our Case worse then if we ne'er had bin Sinne and Grace cannot dwell in one place IF Faith beleeu'd that Creede that Essence giues her then would she giue the Soule what that doth giue Faith 's made to know and doe that which relieues her for by her actiue knowledge she doth liue But oft the Soule though Faith be still her Ghest makes Sinne her Steward to prouide her Foode How then can Faith such banefull Bits digest which but contaminate her vitall Bloud Can Faith and Sinne if they be full in force dwell as if friends they were in one weake Heart No one will other from the same diuorce for Sou'raignes part with life ere Lordship part Then want of Faith with grosse Sin is supplide For Nature vacuum could ne'er abide In rainy-gloomy Weather THis Weather 's like my troubled Minde and Eyes the one being sad the other full of Teares And as Winde oft the often Showrings dryes so Sighes my Teares dry vp and kindle Cares Sighes please and paine the displeas'd painfull Heart they please in giuing vent to Griefes vp-pent And yet the Heart they ease they cause to smart so Griefes encrease as Sighes doe giue them vent But were my Minde thus sad but for my Crimes and mine Eyes turn'd to Teares for cause so deare Or did my Heart for that sith often times my Sighes my Teares my Sadnesse blessed were But t is sith Hope my Ship through Fates crosse-waue Now grates vpon the Grauell of my Graue Our Wits are vnable to please our Wils THis Life is but a Laborynth of Ils whose many Turnings so amaze our Mindes that out of Them our Wit no issue findes But what our Sense commands our Wit fulfils Yet Sense being tired with deceitfull Ioyes that fleete as soone as felt prouokes the