never tast deaths woe But let them sleepe Lord and mee mourne a space For if above all these my sinnes abound 'T is late to aske abundance of thy grace When wee are there here on this lowly ground Teach mee how to repent for that 's as good As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood V. If poysonous mineralls and if that tree Whose fruit threw death on else immortall us If lecherous goats if serpents envious Cannot be damn'd Alas why should I bee Why should intent or reason borne in mee Make sinnes else equall in mee more heinous And mercy being easie and glorious To God in his sterne wrath why threatens hee But who am I that dare dispute with thee O God Oh! of thine onely worthy blood And my teares make a heavenly Lethean flood And drowne in it my sinnes blacke memorie That thou remember them some claime as debt I thinke it mercy if thou wilt forget VI. Death be not proud though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull for thou art not soe For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not poore death nor yet canst thou kill mee From rest and sleepe which but thy pictures bee Much pleasure then from thee much more must flow And soonest our best men with thee doe goe Rest of their bones and soules deliverie Thou art slave to Fate chance kings and desperate men And doth with poyson warre and sicknesse dwell And poppie or charmes can make us sleepe as well And better then thy stroake why swell'st thou then One short sleepe past wee wake eternally And death shall be no more death thou shalt die VII Spit in my face you Jewes and pierce my side Buffet and scoffe scourge and crucifie mee For I have sinn'd and sinn'd and onely hee Who could do no iniquitie hath dyed But by my death can not be satisfied My sinnes which passe the Jewes impiety They kill'd once an inglorious man but I Crucifie him daily being now glorified Oh let mee then his strange love still admire Kings pardon but he bore our punishment And Iacob came cloth'd in vile harsh attire But to supplant and with gainfull intent God cloth'd himselfe in vile mans flesh that so Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe VIII Why are wee by all creatures waited on Why doe the prodigall elements supply Life and food to mee being more pure then I Simple and further from corruption Why brook'st thou ignorant horse subjection Why dost thou bull and bore so seelily Dissemble weaknesse and by'one mans stroke die Whose whole kinde you might swallow feed upon Weaker I am woe is mee and worse then you You have not sinn'd nor need be timorous But wonder at a greater wonder for to us Created nature doth these things subdue But their Creator whom sin nor nature tyed For us his Creatures and his foes hath dyed IX What if this present were the worlds last night Marke in my heart O Soule where thou dost dwell The picture of Christ crucified and tell Whether his countenance can thee affright Teares in his eyes quench the amasing light Blood fills his frownes which from his pierc'd head fell And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell Which pray'd forgivenesse for his foes fierce spight No no but as in my idolatrie I said to all my profane mistresses Beauty of pitty foulnesse onely is A signe of rigour so I say to thee To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd This beauteous forme assumes a pitious minde X. Batter my heart three person'd God for you As yet but knocke breathe shine and seeke to mend That I may rise and stand o'erthrow mee ' and bend Your force to breake blowe burn and make me new I like an usurpt towne to'another due Labour to'admit you but Oh to no end Reason your viceroy in mee mee should defend But is captiv'd and proves weake or untrue Yet dearely'I love you and would be lov'd faine But am betroth'd unto your enemie Divorce mee ' untie or breake that knot againe Take mee to you imprison mee for I Except you'enthral mee never shall be free Nor ever chast except you ravish mee XI Wilt thou love God as he thee then digest My Soule this wholsome meditation How God the Spirit by Angels waited on In heaven doth make his Temple in thy brest The Father having begot a Sonne most blest And still begetting for he ne'r begonne Hath deign'd to chuse thee by adoption Coheire to'his glory ' and Sabbaths endlesse rest And as a robb'd man which by search doth finde His stolne stuffe sold must lose or buy'it againe The Sonne of glory came downe and was slaine Us whom he'had made and Satan stolne to unbinde 'T was much that man was made like God before But that God should be made like man much more XII Father part of his double interest Unto thy kingdome thy Sonne gives to mee His joynture in the knottie Trinitie Hee keepes and gives to me his deaths conquest This Lambe whose death with life the world hath blest Was from the worlds beginning slaine and he Hath made two Wills which with the Legacie Of his and thy kingdome doe thy Sonnes invest Yet such are these laws that men argue yet Whether a man those statutes can fulfill None doth but thy all-healing grace and Spirit Revive againe what law and letter kill Thy lawes abridgement and thy last command Is all but love Oh let this last Will stand EPIGRAMS Hero and Leander BOth rob'd of aire we both lye in one ground Both whom one fire had burnt one water drownd Pyramus and Thisbe Two by themselves each other love and feare Slaine cruell friends by parting have joyn'd here Niobe By childrens births and death I am become So dry that I am now mine owne sad tombe A burnt ship Out of a fired ship which by no way But drowning could be rescued from the flame Some men leap'd forth and ever as they came Neere the foes ships did by their shot decay So all were lost which in the ship were found They in the sea being burnt they in the burnt ship drown'd Fall of a wall Under an undermin'd and shot-bruis'd wall A too-bold Captaine perish'd by the fall Whose brave misfortune happiest men envi'd That had a towne for tombe his bones to hide A lame begger I am unable yonder begger cries To stand or moue if he say true hee lies A selfe accuser Your mistris that you follow whores still taxeth you 'T is strange that she should thus confesse it though'it be true A licentious person Thy sinnes and haires may no man equall call For as thy sinnes increase thy haires doe fall Antiquary If in his Studie he hath so much care To'hang all old strange things let his wife beware Disinherited Thy father all from thee by his last Will Gave to the poore Thou hast good title still Phryne Thy flattering picture Phryne is like thee Onely in this that you both painted be An obscure writer
comparison The onely measure is and judge opinion HOLY SONNETS La Corona 1. DEigne at my hands this crown of prayer and praise Weav'd in my low devout melancholie Thou which of good hast yea art treasury All changing unchang'd Antient of dayes But doe not with a vile crowne of fraile bayes Reward my muses white sincerity But what thy thorny crowne gain'd that give mee A crowne of Glory which doth flower alwayes The ends crowne our workes but thou crown'st our ends For at our end begins our endlesse rest The first last end now zealously possest With a strong sober thirst my soule attends 'T is time that heart and voice be lifted high Salvation to all that will is nigh ANNVNCIATION 2 Salvation to all that will is nigh That All which alwayes is All every where Which cannot sinne and yet all sinnes must beare Which cannot die yet cannot chuse but die Loe faithfull Virgin yeelds himselfe to lye In prison in thy wombe and though he there Can take no sinne nor thou give yet he'will weare Taken from thence flesh which deaths force may trie Ere by the spheares time was created thou Wast in his minde who is thy Sonne and Brother Whom thou conceiv'st conceiv'd yea thou art now Thy Makers maker and thy Fathers mother Thou'hast light in darke and shutst in little roome Immensity cloysterd in thy deare wombe NATIVITIE 3 Immensitie cloysterd in thy deare wombe Now leaves his welbelov'd imprisonment There he hath made himselfe to his intent Weake enough now into our world to come But Oh for thee for him hath th'Inne no roome Yet lay him in this stall and from the Orient Starres and wisemen will travell to prevent Th' effects of Herods jealous generall doome Seest thou my Soule with thy faiths eyes how he Which fils all place yet none holds him doth lye Was not his pity towards thee wondrous high That would have need to be pittied by thee Kisse him and with him into Egypt goe With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe TEMPLE 4 With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe Ioseph turne backe see where your child doth sit Blowing yea blowing out those sparks of wit Which himselfe on the Doctors did bestow The Word but lately could not speake and loe It sodenly speakes wonders whence comes it That all which was and all which should be writ A shallow seeming child should deeply know His Godhead was not soule to his manhood Nor had time mellowed him to this ripenesse But as for one which hath a long taske 'T is good With the Sunne to beginne his businesse He in his ages morning thus began By miracles exceeding power of man CRVCIFYING 5 By miracles exceeding power of man Hee faith in some envie in some begat For what weake spirits admire ambitious hate In both affections many to him ran But Oh! the worst are most they will and can Alas and do unto the immaculate Whose creature Fate is now prescribe a Fate Measuring selfe-lifes infinity to span Nay to an inch loe where condemned hee Beares his owne crosse with paine yet by and by When it beares him he must beare more and die Now thou art lifted up draw mee to thee And at thy death giving such liberall dole Moyst with one drop of thy blood my dry soule RESVRRECTION 6 Moyst with one drop of thy blood my dry soule Shall though she now be in extreme degree Too stony hard and yet too fleshly bee Freed by that drop from being starv'd hard or foule And life by this death abled shall controule Death whom thy death slue nor shall to mee Feare of first or last death bring miserie If in thy little booke my name thou enroule Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified But made that there of which and for which 't was Nor can by other meanes be glorified May then sinnes sleep and death soone from me passe That wak't from both I againe risen may Salute the last and everlasting day ASCENTION 7 Salute the last and everlasting day Joy at the uprising of this Sunne and Sonne Yee whose just teares or tribulation Have purely washt or burnt your drossie clay Behold the Highest parting hence away Lightens the darke clouds which hee treads upon Nor doth hee by ascending show alone But first hee and hee first enters the way O strong Ramme which hast batter'd heaven for mee Mild lambe which with thy blood hast mark'd the path Bright torch which shin'st that I the way may see Oh with thy owne blood quench thy owne just wrath And if thy holy Spirit my Muse did raise Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer and praise Holy Sonnets I. AS due by many titles I resigne My selfe to thee O God first I was made By thee and for thee and when I was decay'd Thy blood bought that the which before was thine I am thy sonne made with thy selfe to shine Thy servant whose paines thou hast still repaid Thy sheepe thine Image and till I betray'd My selfe a temple of thy Spirit divine Why doth the devill then usurpe on mee Why doth he steale nay ravish that 's thy right Except thou rise and for thine owne worke fight Oh I shall soone despaire when I doe see That thou lov'st mankind well yet wilt'not chuse me And Satan hates mee yet is loth to lose mee II. Oh my blacke Soule now thou art summoned By sicknesse deaths herald and champion Thou art like a pilgrim which abroad hath done Treason and durst not turne to whence hee is fled Or like a thiefe which till deaths doome be read Wisheth himselfe delivered from prison But damn'd and hal'd to execution Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned Yet grace if thou repent thou canst not lacke But who shall give thee that grace to beginne Oh make thy selfe with holy mourning blacke And red with blushing as thou art with sinne Or wash thee in Christs blood which hath this might That being red it dyes red soules to white III. This is my playes last scene here heavens appoint My pilgrimages last mile and my race Idly yet quickly runne hath this last pace My spans last inch my minutes latest point And gluttonous death will instantly unjoynt My body and my soule and I shall sleepe a space But my'ever-waking part shall see that face Whose feare already shakes my every joynt Then as my soule to'heaven her first seate takes flight And earth borne body in the earth shall dwell So fall my sinnes that all may have their right To where they' are bred and would presse me to hell Impute me righteous thus purg'd of evill For thus I leave the world the flesh the devill IV. At the round earths imagin'd corners blow Your trumpets Angells and arise arise From death you numberlesse infinities Of soules and to your scattred bodies goe All whom the flood did and fire shall o'erthrow All whom warre death age agues tyrannies Despaire law chance hath slaine and you whose eyes Shall behold God and
mixe againe And makes both one each this and that A single violet transplant The strength the colour and the size All which before was poore and scant Redoubles still and multiplies When love with one another so Interanimates two soules That abler soule which thence doth flow Defects of lonelinesse controules Wee then who are this new soule know Of what we are compos'd and made For th'Atomies of which we grow Are soules whom no change can invade But O alas so long so farre Our bodies why doe wee forbeare They are ours though not wee Wee are The intelligences they the spheares We owe them thankes because they thus Did us to us at first convay Yeelded their senses force to us Nor are drosse to us but allay On man heavens influence workes not so But that it first imprints the ayre For soule into the soule may flow Though it to body first repaire As our blood labours to beget Spirits as like soules as it can Because such fingers need to knit That subtile knot which makes us man So must pure lovers soules descend T'affections and to faculties Which sense may reach and apprehend Else a great Prince in prison lies To'our bodies turne wee then that so Weake men on love reveal'd may looke Loves mysteries in soules doe grow But yet the body is his booke And if some lover such as wee Have heard this dialogue of one Let him still marke us he shall see Small change when we' are to bodies gone Loves Deitie I Long to talke with some old lovers ghost Who dyed before the god of Love was borne I cannot thinke that hee who then lov'd most Sunke so low as to love one which did scorne But since this god produc'd a destinie And that vice-nature custome lets it be I must love her that loves not mee Sure they which made him god meant not so much Nor he in his young god head practis'd it But when an even flame two hearts did touch His office was indulgently to fit Actives to passives Correspondencie Only his subject was It cannot bee Love till I love her that loves mee But every moderne god will now extend His vast prerogative as far as Jove To rage to lust to 〈◊〉 to commend All is the purlewe of the God of Love Oh were wee wak'ned by this Tyrannie To ungod this child againe it could not beo I should love her who loves not mee Rebell and Atheist too why murmure I As though I felt the worst that love could doe Love may make me leave loving or might trie A deeper plague to make her love mee too Which since she loves before I 'am loth to see Falshood is worse then hate and that must bee If shee whom I love should love mee Loves diet TO what a combersome unwieldinesse And burdenous corpulence my love had growne But that I did to make it lesse And keepe it in proportion Give it a diet made it feed upon That which love worst endures discretion Above one sigh a day I'allow'd him not Of which my fortune and my faults had part And if sometimes by stealth he got A she sigh from my mistresse heart And thought to feast on that I let him see 'T was neither very sound nor meant to mee If he wroung from mee'a teare I brin'd it so With scorne or shame that him it nourish'd not If he suck'd hers I let him know 'T was not a teare which hee had got His drinke was counterfeit as was his meat For eyes which rowle towards all weepe not but sweat What ever he would dictate I writ that But burnt my letters When she writ to me And that that favour made him fat I said if any title bee Convey'd by this Ah what doth it availe To be the fortieth name in an entaile Thus I redeem'd my buzard love to flye At what and when and how and where I chuse Now negligent of sports I lye And now as other Fawkners use I spring a mistresse sweare write sigh and weepe And the game kill'd or lost goe talke and sleepe The Will BEfore I sigh my last gaspe let me breath Great love some Legacies Here I bequeath Mine eyes to Argus if mine eyes can see If they be blinde then Love I give them thee My tongue to Fame to'Embassadours mine eares To women or the sea my teares Thou Love hast taught mee heretofore By making mee serve her who 'had twenty more That I should give to none but such as had too much before My constancie I to the planets give My truth to them who at the Court doe live Mine ingenuity and opennesse To Jesuites to Buffones my pensivenesse My silence to'any who abroad hath beene My mony to a Capuchin Thou Love taught'st me by appointing mee To love there where no love receiv'd can be Onely to give to such as have an incapacitie My faith I give to Roman Catholiques All my good works unto the Schismaticks Of Amsterdam my best civility And Courtship to an Universitie My modesty I give to souldiers bare My patience let gamesters share Thou Love taughtst mee by making mee Love her that holds my love disparity Onely to give to those that count my gifts indignity I give my reputation to those Which were my friends Mine industrie to foes To Schoolemen I bequeath my doubtfulnesse My sicknesse to Physitians or excesse To Nature all that I in Ryme have writ And to my company my wit Thou love by making mee adore Her who begot this love in mee before Taughtst me to make as though I gave when I did but restore To him for whom the passing bell next tolls I give my physick bookes my writen rowles Of Morall counsels I to Bedlam give My brazen medals unto them which live In want of bread to them which passe among All forrainers mine English tongue Thou Love by making mee love one Who thinkes her friendship a fit portion For yonger lovers dost my gifts thus disproportion Therefore I 'll give no more But I 'll undoe The world by dying because love dies too Then all your beauties will bee no more worth Then gold in Mines where none doth draw it forth And all your graces no more use shall have Then a Sun dyall in a grave Thou Love taughtst mee by making mee Love her who doth neglect both mee and thee To'invent and practise this one way to'annihilate all three The Funerall WHo ever comes to shroud me do not harme Nor question much That subtile wreath of haire which crowne my arme The mystery the signe you must not touch For'tis my outward Soule Viceroy to that which unto heaven being gone Will leave this to controule And keepe these limbes her Provinces from dissolution For if the sinewie thread my braine le ts fall Through every part Can tye those parts and make mee one of all Those haires which upward grew and strength and art Have from a better braine Can better do' it except she meant that I By this should