nothing more then sinne Lord help me in this strange extremitie of crosse desires which in my Soule are found My Will is bound to Sinne but would be free then if it would how should my Will be bound Were it my Flesh alone desir'd to sinne my Soule resisting t' were not so amisse Such crosse desires in thy best Saints haue bin but in my Soule my Sinne conceiued is And yet shee 's barraine gauly and impure of emptinesse not emptie and thereby A soulelesse Soule so lifelesse doth endure yet liues in Death because she cannot dye Then empt mine empty Soule for Sinne doth fill with nought but vacuum her capatious thought For Sinne is nothing sith thou mad'st not Ill without whom nought was made then empt this nought For t is that Law though nought that still rebels against both grace and natures Gouernment This lawlesse Law my members still compels to bowe as Sinnes vnrighteous Rule is bent Lord I beleeue yet help mine vnbeliefe and well doe will yet better my desire Cure thou the Wound my Will receiu'd in chiefe through Adams Fall and make our Wils entire Giue me both Will and Pow'r to doe thy Will and let me neither haue to crosse the same For when I see my Will would thine fulfill yet doth it not I pine with griefe and shame I cannot will aright but right resist without thy grace preuent my crooked will And willing well without thy grace assist I cannot for my bloud my will fulfill So thy preuenting and assisting grace makes my Will worke for of my selfe I am So fraile by nature and so beastly base that my best thoghts are more then much too blame Then let thy Grace my wayward Will preuent and helpe me to performe it so preuented Yea make my thoughts and deedes most innocent else let me ioy in nought but them lamented Nay make my Heart deare Lord so apt to waile That it may weepe when I to weepe doe faile The Sinner desireth not to be as he is but as he ought to be TO be all nought is nought at all to be and to be sinfull still is to be nought Yet Sinners ARE though dead in sinne we see as Men ARE though they are not as thy ought Deliuer me deare Lord from being such such being take from me that sinfull is For better nothing be then be so much because so much is more then most amisse Then let me be not as I am but what I ought to Be or take me as I am Take me to Thee and then I will be that I ought to be thine owne in Deed and Name For then I am when I am wholy thine But I am not while I am Sinnes or Mine In respect of the breuitie and vncertaintie of mortall life the Sinner desires grace in time to prepare for Death MY stupid Soule now recollect thy pow'rs weigh in Iudgements Scales thy present state Thou in thy Iaile my Flesh but some few howres hast now to stay by nature neere her date My Pilgrimage is almost past ô then it thee behooues to looke with stedfast eyes Towards thy Countrey Home of Happy-men least ere thou looke in straying pathes thou dye Now faints my force my sense impaires my flesh like wither'd fruit now falleth with each breath Some Birds o'er-aged doe their youth refresh but Man growne Twâ—-childe is at doore of death The Young-man may dye quickely but the Olde can not liue long misse-haps may wracke the one But nought in Arte or Nature long can hold the other here for they are almost gone Then if green yeers should somtimes mind the graue the Gray must still that there are with a breath For Age to Death is but the Gally-slaue that on a moments fluxe whafts life to death To serue the World although I able were small cause haue I to will it sith it is The ground which nought but ranckest Ils doth beare and where men most esteemed are most amisse I long haue cultur'd this but flinty-field which yeelds but Crops of Cares Woes wrongs and spight Yeelding the more annoy the more they yeeld whose very Ioyes are Tares that pine the Spright Then it is time to change by heauenly Arte the thriftlesse course of so course Husbandry And with Remorse to furrow vp my Heart melting the Clods with teares that are too dry And so to sow Loues seedes that faire encrease to fat the Soule in vertue till shee melt In flames of Charitie till Faith doth cease to giue more taste of heauenly pleasures selt And sith my Spring is spent my Summer past and to the Fall of leafe my Tyme arriues Nay sith his frost Time on my Head hath cast I must prepare for cold that life depriues My negligence hath made sinnes Earth my Heart to yeeld but poysonous Weeds of thoughts impure Which doe but bane my Soule and get the start of Vertue in their growth by Customes pow'r Meane while my flesh with heat of youth bloud hath shrunke from cherishing their root yet lo The Marrow of my Bones doth yeeld them foode so thogh I shrink they through that compost grow And as one tost at Sea with Stormes and feares makes little way though much he be turmoild So he in vice that past hath many yeeres hath had long time but life as short as soild For Life is measur'd by the good we doe not dayes we spend sith some by many dayes Get many Deaths as some haue come vnto Eternall Life by short Life spent with praise What is a Soulelesse Body but a Clod and what 's the Soule without her cause and life But quicke to Sinne and dead to Grace and God Hell to it selfe selfe-Hell or Hell of strife He is the Way besides which all are wide the Truth against which all in errour dwell The Life without which all in death abide in whom to be is onely to be well O then deare Lord let me beginne to liue now in my dying though hard late it be Yet better late then neuer to reuiue me dead in sinne by mortifying me It 's hard I grant that after life's neere spent in mortall Sinne immortall life t' expect Yet Lord how euer late let me repent while Aire I breathe and doe it not reiect Yet Loue must cause remorse and hate of Sinne for true contrition which true life dorh giue Is caus'd by Loue sith we so bad haue beene t' a God so good that di'd to make vs liue Then loue my Soule for no ends but thine END By-purposes are purposelesse for ONE That knowes all Hearts Remorse doth but offend that is not for his Loue conceiu'd alone Then to be truely contrite hard it is sith it respects but Loue that Grace allures Whereof in but a scruple if we misse it 's but Attrition which lesse Grace procures O Death how sowre is thy rememberance to him whose Soule is swolne with sweetest Sinne And hath thereof a feeling I perchance haue so in shew but more
The MVSES Sacrifice TO THE MOST NOBLE and no lesse deseruedly-renowned Ladyes as well Darlings as Patronesses of the Muses LVCY Countesse of Bedford MARY Countesse-Dowager of Pembrooke and ELIZABETH Lady Cary Wife of Sr. Henry Cary Glories of Women THE Muses sacrifice I consecrate They vnto Heau'n I to you heau'nly THREE They my poore Heart I my Loues rich Estate together with my Rimes that rarer be But what can be more rare than richest Loue sith so rich Loue is now so rarely found Yes measur'd-words that out of measure moue the Soule to Heau'n from Hel that 's most profound A vexed Soule for Follies that betray the Soule to Death some call the nether Hell Thence moue my Measures and doe make such way that they all Lets to giue way doe compell These Rarities which my poore Soule confines her treble Zeale to you three Graces brings For Grace as glorious as the Sunne that shines as bright as chearefull on inferiour Things Such Grace you haue by Vertue and by Fate as makes you Three the Glory of these Times The MVSES Darlings and their Chaires of STATE Shapers and Soules of all Soule-charming Rimes BEDFORD the beaming-glory of thy HOVSE that makes it Heau'n on Earth thy Worths are such As all our WITS make most miraculous because thy WIT and WORTH doe worke so much For WIT and SP'RIT in Beauties Liuery doe still attend thine all-commanding EYES And in th' Achiuements of thine Ingenie the glosse thereof like Orr on Sable lies The Wombe that bare thee made thy noble Breast abound with Bountie yer thou knew'st thy Fate Where furnisht was that Bountie with the best of Honors Humors giuing Her the Mate For which all Poets Plowes their Pennes doe plow the fertil'st Grounds of ART and in the same Thy still-increasing Praises thicke doe sow to yeeld Aeternitie thy Crop of Fame PEMBROKE a Paragon of Princely PARTS and of that Part that most commends the Muse Great Mistresse of her Greatnesse and the ARTS Phoebus and Fate makes great and glorious A Worke of Art and Grace from Head and Heart that makes a Worke of Wonder thou hast done Where Art seemes Nature Nature seemeth Art and Grace in both makes all out-shine the Sunne So sweet a Descant on so sacred Ground no Time shall cease to sing to Heau'nly Lyres For when the Spheares shall cease their gyring sound the Angels then shall chaunt it in their Quires No Time can vaunt that ere it did produce from femine Perfections so sweet Straines As still shall serue for Men and Angels vse then both past Time shall sing thy Praise Paines My Hand once sought that glorious WORKE to grace and writ in Gold what thou in Incke hadst writ But Gold and highest Art are both too base to Character the glory of thy Wit And didst thou thirst for Fame as all Men doe thou would'st by all meanes let it come to light But though thou cloud it as doth Enuy too yet through both Clouds it shines it is so bright Where bright DESERT fore-goes a spurre is Praise to make it runne to all that glorifies Of such Desert iâ— ought eclipse the Rayes it euer shames FAMES publicke Notaries CARY of whom Minerua stands in feare lest she from her should get ARTS Regencie Of ART so moues the great-all-mouing Spheare that eu'ry Orbe of Science moues thereby Thou mak'st Melpomen proud and my Heart great of such a Pâ—pill who in Buskin fine With Feete of State dost make thy Muse to mete the Scenes of Syracuse and Palestine Art Language yea abstruse and holy Tongues thy Wit and Grace acquir'd thy Fame to raise And still to fill thine owne and others Songs thine with thy Parts and others with thy praise Such neruy Limbes of Art and Straines of Wit Times past ne'er knew the weaker Sexe to haue And Times to come will hardly credit it if thus thou giue thy Workes both Birth and Graue Yee Heau'nly Trinary that swayes the State of ARTS whole Monarchie and WITS Empire Liue long your Likes vnlike to animate for all Times light to blow at your Arts Fire For Time now swels as with some poysonous Weede with Paper-Quelkchose neuer smelt in Scholes So made for Follies Excesse for they feede but fatten not if fatten t is but Fooles What strange Chimeâ—aes Wit nay Folly frames in these much stranger Times weake Wits t' affright Besides themselues for Wits Celestiall Flames now spend much Oyle yet lend but little Light And what they lend is oft as false as small so to small purpose they great Paines doe take But to be scorn'd or curst or loth'd of all that by their false-light foulely doe mistake For to giue Light that leads light Men awry is Light that leades to Darknesse then such Light Were better out than still be in the Eye of Men that so doe lightly runne from RIGHT For while such Light doth shine the Multitude like Moates in Sunne with their Confusion plaies Not weighing o'er their Heads how Errors Cloud the while doth threat t'o'er-whelme them many waies By pouring downe the Haile of hard Conceits gainst God and Goodnesse that doe batter both Or else by saddest Showres of darke Deceits borne as the fickle Winde of Fancy blowth By Lightning that doth still more hurt than good while Errors Thunder-claps make sowre the sweet Yea sweetest drinke of Nature our best Bloud that doth with Melancholy-madnesse meet By all that may at least giue some offence to complete Vertue Wisedome Wit and Art For Ignorance hath oft more Insolence than puffing Knowledge to take Errors part Disease of Times of Mindes Men Arts and Fame vaine Selfe-conceit how dost thou ply the Presse Of People and the Printer with thy shame clad in the Coate of Fustian-foolishnesse For all that but pretend t' haue Art or Wit so trauell with Conceit amisse conceiu'd That till the Presse deliuer them of It their Throwes are such as make them Wit-bereau'd Yet if the Issue of their crazed Braines doe chance though monstrously to comâ— to light Lord how they hugge it like the Ape that straines her young so hard in loue as kils it quite What Piles of Pamphlets and more wordy Bookes now farse the World wherein if Wisdome lookâ— She shall see nothing worthy of her Lookes vnlesse the idle Likenesse of a Booke But WIT 's most wrong'd by priuiledge of Schoole for Learnings Drunkards now so ply the Pot Of Incke I meane Posteritie to foole as shames Wits Name although they touch him not Some that but looke into Diuinitie with their left Eye with their left Hand do write What they obserue to wrong Posteritie that by this Ignis fatuis roame by Night Some search the Corpes of all Philosophie and eu'ry Nerue and Veyne so scrible on That where it should be Truths Anatomie they make it Errors rightest Scheleton Some others on some other Faculties still fondly labour but to be in Print O poore Ambition so their Folly flies abroad the
me still from all misse-fortunes and from so daine Death Which in this World that dangers ouer-fill is more then Fortune can to Man bequeath How many haue I seene the Warres to weare might haue seen hāg'd drown'd staru'd burnt torne How many poyson'd spill themselues with feare with Pox Plagues Pestilence how many worne The thousands blinde deafe dumbe lame leperous besides the Millions otherwise distrest In Minde and Body with griefes dolorous make me to see how much my State is blest For that which fell to any one of these might me befall be'ing euill as they be And that I haue more soundnesse ioy and ease it is to winne my loue thy loue to me If any mortall King should for one crime many condemne and saue but one or two And I of those condemnd should be the prime yet first of those two saued should be too How would my Heart be rauish'd with his Loue and how would all my Pow'rs striue him to serue Then no lesse Grace thy grace doth make me proue nay more much more thou dost my loue deserue For double thou deseru'st in treble kinde thou sau'dst my Soule and body doom'd to Death And from all franticke passions keep'st my Minde therefore I owe thee Minde Soule Body Breath For t is thy Grace we be not all consum'd but most of all my selfe that most doth sinne Sith on that Grace I haue to sinne presum'd yet still by grace seek'st me from sinne to win A Body thou hast giu'n me that doth lacke all that thou giu'st me to continue life And lest through want thereof It should to wrack with me those gifts are no lesse rich then rife All things thou mad'st for me and me for Thee for me Ground Graine Trees Fruit Mines Mettall bear Aire Fowle Seas Fish Fish Fowle for me produce most glorious Pearle and Plumes to weare For me Seas Ships Ships Sailes Sailes Winds endure to bring me Benefis from forraine Lands For me Flouds flow Wels spring Springs Water pure doe yeeld that I should yeeld to thy commands Sheepe Oxen Kine Goates Buckes and other Beasts yeeld Flesh Fleece Fels Milke Oile Hornes for me For me the Hound doth cry the Spaniell quests to teach me how to cry with hope to Thee The Hornes of Vnicornes that precious be are mine though they do weare them for my sake Plants Vertue haue not for themselues but me so things of eu'ry suite me Prime doe make What would I more there 's nought hath being got on or in Earth in Water or in Aire That eyther feedes or heales or sports me not so that this World doth nought but me repaire If I the Elementall World transcend to view the Heau'nly Orbes what Wonders There Sunne Moone and Stars I see who all attend but for my good for which they framed were For me alone they influence impart to these inferiour Bodies seruing mine For me doth Time himselfe in pieces part that I beyond Time might be wholy thine Nay let me passe the nine-fold Orbes of Heau'n and to thy sacred Mansion let me flee For whom had all thine Angels essence giu'n But for thy seruice and to waite on me To backe me and defend me from my Foes to hold me vp when ere I did decline To comfort me in Soule-afflicting Woes and to thy presence bring my Soule in fine Now if the Ends for which Things formed were be better then the Things for so they be Then better than the Angels Men appeare sith they it seemes for men were made by Thee And Men and Angels fell through onely Pride but for deare Mans Redemption thou didd'st die Yet for no one of th' Angels hast thou di'd which much augments mans hope and dignitie O then what Heart can once but thought-conceiue in what strict Tearmes I stand obleig'd to thee Sith me thou mad'st most Glory to receiue through mee as through the Eye Men glory see Wake wake thy selfe my Soule why sleep'st thou stil see who it is that hath thus done for whom Not for the Angels which obey his Will but for thee sinfull Soule his choisest Home Cast if thou canst a Number numberlesse and count his gifts with Stars or with Sea-sand The bottome gage of his Grace bottomlesse Or if thou canst not wonder-mazed stand Yet stand thou with and for Him while thou art that is as long as he himselfe exists That is while GOD hath but an humane Heart which is but while Eternitie consists As God is GOD he hath no Heart at all but as true Man he is he hath Mans Heart Then GOD and MAN can ne'er asunder fall though Men from GOD themselues too often part But GOD that hast Mans Heart and so hast mine sith I am Man although a sinfull one Still let thy Heart be mine and mine be thine that I may haue no Heart to grieue our owne I greatly doe desire with great desire to praise and loue thee GOD Mans harts repose But Praise and Loue in Mouth and Heart of mire through foulenes of that filth their grace do lose But sith all Creaetures thou hast made for mee for whatsoe'er is made I owe the same I le call on them with me to call on THEE to giue me grace to loue and praise thy Name Then ô yee all his Workes your voyces reare with man his master-piece that He would grant To me his Grace to sound his praises cleare and to supply in Loue my louings want To make my Mouth pure fit to hold his praise and make my Heart cleane meete to lodge his loue That Heart and mouth may so his glory raise while I his Grace in grace or glory proue That I in Grace and Glory may be knowne To liue but for that praise and loue alone A Meditation gratulatory for our redemption WHen I excogitate the great Good-turnes thou hast done for me ô extreamest Good With heate of Zeale my seathing Marrow burnes and flames of seruent Loue doe boile my bloud Especially for that when thou had'st form'd my Soule and body I deforming each Thou with thine own dierewrack hast me reform'd and with thy precious bloud becam'st my Leach Thou mightst for e'er haue banish'd me thy sight with the proud Angel and his cursed Crue For my fault was like his but more vnright then to the same a greater Plague was due And that thou hast not onely spar'd my Paine but therewithall bought endlesse blisse for me So that my Fall doth fall out to my gaine I am in straightest bonds oblieg'd to Thee And for thou mad'st me me to thee I owe sith thou redeem'd me much more owe I thee And would ô would I could my selfe bestovv to pay that More that 's lesse then due from me And so much more thou ought'st to be belou'd by how much greater were thy griefes and state And how much lesse then ought'st to be reprou'd whose life was more then most immaculate Who What and Wherefore dost thou suffer Lord and who