wilt be still a heathen swine Yet know God will be knowne of thee infine If here thou wilt not know him by his works A sin abominated by the Turks If here thou wilt to know him by that spark Now rak'd up in thy conscience yet his marke Nor yet wilt know him by the eye of faith Beleeving what the holy Scripture saith But dost this cloud of witnesses repell Yet God will make thee know him though in hell Yea more then know for thou shalt feel him there And in that den his Deity declare When divells shall torment thee as their owne Because thou here wouldst have no God-head known Thus I have walk'd in an unwonted strain Which some it may be will account as vaine As if I heare by some what went about To bring a truth most manifest in doubt Who is so grosse may some perhaps reply To make a question of the Deity If there be none why should I now begin To make a doubt where none before hath bin Indeed with us where so much light doth shine As if directly underneath the line With us where God so perfectly appears And as it were hath dwelt so many years If there should harbour any here so blinde So dead in sense and stupifi'd in minde As once to harbour Atheisme in thought Therein most hideous treachery were wrought Yet sith we finde that Scripture doth impart Which only can anatomize the heart That such a thought in some hath harbour'd been Yea all men are by nature so unclean Each heart by nature is deceitfull still And every thought continually ill We doubtlesse may though to our shame conclude That Atheisme is in a multitude Especially if duly we propound How meerly naturall multitudes are found Againe besides our nature which hath stood Since Adams fall an enemy to good We have another enemy as great Who hinders good with a more deadly hate The divell that arch enemy indeed To God himselfe to Adam and his seed He seeks by his inscrutible an art To steal no lesse then God out of the heart And to that purpose night and day doth spend Suggesting doubts and questions to that end By which with man he doth too much prevaile Else why did David in that nature faile Who was a man most dear to God we finde And yet the divell trap'd him in that kinde When he did almost in his thoughts complain As if that he had wish'd his hands in vain From whence it must by consequence arise God for the time was taken from his eyes Then if such lofty cedars may be shaken How may the shrubs be in that nature taken Poore creatures who have neither care nor skill To frustrate Sathans working of his will Such fiery darts the divell dayly throwes And at our hearts he doth direct his blowes And I for my part cannot testifie That any living scape them as they fly Only as aged Jesses youngest son For safety did to sanctuary run Where he beheld the wound was hid before And eke got balme to heale his bleeding sore So when we doe the tempters dart discry We may like David to the Temple fly To reading hearing meditate and pray Such fumes as those will drive the fiend away Or as old Jacobs children in distresse When bit with serpents in the wildernesse By only looking on a serpents wing Expel'd the poyson of that bite or sting Even so when Sathan that old serpent stings We may have healing underneath those wings Which Jacobs children in figure view'd To us a Christ in their similitude Thus as the divell daily doth belay To steal our goods to steal our God away God that we should by no means let him go Hath left us means to circumvent that foe And hence proceeds that combate in our breasts The flesh consenting but the soule resists But when the soule submits to carnall sense The divell then gets the preheminence And thou within whose bosome no such strife Or combate hath incumbered thy life The divell sure hath favour'd thee therein Or thou too much infatuated bin But thou that feelst no want at all of aid Thou gavst him here a Paradise indeed But thou wilt give him heaven which doth exceed Yet doe not count this altogether vaine Ther 's no such drosse but may afford some graine The troubl'd soule counts no occasion slight That may assist when it is thus in fight What thou think'st bane may be anothers meat Then what thou like'st not let another eat Though these be hearbs nay weeds out of the wood Yet hearbs nay weeds for many things are good I trust no Colloquintida is here No danger if thy stomack then be clear Lord what is man that thou art so mindfull of him Psal. 8. vers. 4. Desires of Aid MOst Gracious God as then hast lent thy hand To move my heart and to direct my pen In some weake measure thus to understand And make thee understood of other men God only wise almighty pure eternall Without whose mercy man must be infernall So let thy hand Lord be outstretched still To stir my heart that most polluted spring That in that fountaine I may dip my quill And from that depth such secret matter bring As to my selfe may make my selfe appeare That I may seek to make that fountaine clear And as we all doe to our comfort finde That thou of man hast ever mindfull been So let my lines be moving in some kinde That we again may not forget thee then But may for ever as it is our parts Inthrone thee in the centre of our hearts LOrd what is man may well be ask'd of thee None but thine eye can that exactly see Thou gav'st him life when thou hadst given him fashion Thou only therefore canst resolve that question Man peradventure like a butcher may Unmake those walls which thou hast made of clay Rip up mans body open every part Take out his entrails looke into his heart Note every artrie conduit pipe and veine And pâ—y into the Chamber of the brain Tell all his sinewes crushes bones and finde How every member is to other joyn'd Let this be granted as perhaps it may In some imperfect superfices way Yet what can man in this description read Of what man in perfection was indeed Alas in this man doth indeed no more Then as it were unlock the little doore Of some rich cabinet which being done Doth finde it empty all its jewels gone Where being frustate of his Chiefe desire Finds nothing left but only to admire The curious art about that little frame With lively forms yet pictures on the same Even so mans body that same heav'ns device Wherein are lock'd up all our gemmes of price When cruell death once turnes his key about Unlocks the doore and lets those jewels out Mans body straight becomes a trunke bereft Of all its matchlesse treasure empty left And nothing to the searchers eye remains To satisfie his curious eye or pains But only to admire the
DIves deny'd what Lazarus beg'd in want Dives now beg's what Lazarus must not grant Impartiall Justice dost thy hand so guide One drop of water may not fall beside Then why are we so in our hearing gul'd With the fond false enchantments of the world To stop our eares when poore men aske and know We must not beg if we will not bestow Dives in hell is now with horrour fill'd Lazarus hath musicke what the heav'ns can yield Dives hence forth shall never hear of joy Lazarus shall never hear the least annoy Let Dives then our daily warning be He once had musicke mirth as sweet as we And wisely working on examples given Let Lazarus now allure our eares to heaven Dives MY eyes which once as windowes did appear Through which the worlds polluted face seem'd cleer By which false view my most fond heart became To fall in love most deeply with the same The world indeed did so my wits surprise Its moale-hills seem'd huge mountaines in mine eies But to this casement sense of mine alas Heav'n seem'd a mote oh most deceitfull glasse But these same eyes shall so wide open'd be In hell that I shall heer be forc'd to see How they were once deluded and confesse Heav'n is the mountain earth a moale or lesse Besides my sight shall be tormented most In hell beholding hells infernall host Where I for ever one of them shall view How ugly fiends shall use that hidious crew Lazarus MY sense of sight which in me as the Sun Doth to the world did shew me what was done This sense most cleer when I on earth indur'd Was clouded most by stormes of tears obscur'd And how could I forbeare such showers to see The world in robes and none but rags for me The world in pleasure I in paine and griefe The world in plenty I without reliefe But this my sense or those my very eyes Restor'd my body when it shall arise Above all clouds shall from ecclipse be free'd All tears shall then be wip'd away indeed Then I shall in my body both behold My body more resplendent made then gold And ever view that heav'nly vision sweet Wherein conjoin'd all heav'nly joyes doe meet The Authors Epigram LAzarus on earth by earthly sorrowes driven To loath the earth did lift his eyes to heav'n We upon earth by earthly joyes inchanted Conceive no other heav'nly are not wanted Lazarus in heav'n doth now injoy that mirth Which unto heav'n he look'd for upon earth Our eyes asleep with earthly beauties lul'd Lose the Creator by the creature gul'd Dives on earth with earthly Saints in love Look'd not for objects fairer far above If we here living looke not having sight For heaven we dying shall not then have light But Dives now his cursed soule acquaints In hell with such as here he made his Saints If we hereafter better mates require We must looke here to get acquaintancâ— higher The Authors Petition to the Throne of Grace DIvinest powers thus by your aid inspir'd My restlesse muse with quenchlesse sparkles fir'd Dosts through the world each fragrant garden views And plucks those flowers she thinks most fit to use Thus safely mounted on her hovering wings I taste some sweetnesse of those higher springs Which from the pipes of sacred fountaines flow By oddes more pleasant then the streams below Thus whiles the doter upon earthy toyes Delights in trifles or more earthly joyes My thoughts are towring not downe stooping here I take my pleasure in a higher sphere Thus whiles the worldling night and day is tost To gain that wealth which must againe be lost I reap such gaine as theeves cannot betray Nor time nor fate nor tyrants take away Thus I of wealth in poverty may vant Of mentall wealth though otherwise in want But oh you Authors of divinest thrift Doe you inrich me with some further gift Thus leave me not but give me power to strive To reach a strain beyond contemplative Oh teach my heart doe that in temper bring To strike more fully on the practique string Thus give me power that I my selfe may tread Those active measures I my selfe have made That what I proffer to the publicke view May in my selfe be secretly found true Not thus with sweets fill others hands with posies And in my bosome cankers stead of Roses Not by my lines thus limit out a way For others steps and run my selfe astray But make my action such as in some part May give some life to my unpolish'd art That these my labours so may fruitfull be If not to others yet at least to me And others by that concord sweet invited Shall with the musicke be at least delighted THE PRODIGALL SONNE AND THE PITTIFVLL FATHER The second Booke The prodigall Son MY restles thoughts what move you thus to rome Why rest you not what would you doe from home What doth incite you have you found some prey Worth your adventure that you needs would stray Yes yes rich treasures are abroad no doubt My stragling thoughts have found some jewels out But I am tender travels rough and yet My skill but small for travells much unfit But wherefore should I thus restraine my will I have my portion that shall purchase skill Discreetest Fathers do not much deny We yonger Brothers should our fortunes try Besides my sailes thus fil'd with motion strong Most sweet companions do intice along With earnest proffers of an equall share In treasures pleasures and contentments rare The Pitifull Father MY Son my Son who art to me so neer And whom I tender as a child most dear What worme is crept into thy troubled head Or by what serpent art become misled Whither my child oh whither would'st thou go What is the reason thou would'st leave me so Dost thou suppose it is no griefe to me Thus of a Son to disregarded be Alas my Son thou art too yong indeed To make a venture will such danger breed What favour canst thou looke to find in lands Most strange to thee and at meere strangers hands Strange lands and people and from me as far As Egypt is or Sodoms people were Where thou shalt find thy hopes but mock'd vaine trust For freedome bondage and for fruit but dust The Authors Epigram MOst sinfull sons rebellious we below If that a son such disobedience shew A son too by the woman that is free How desperate must the feed of Hagar be Too venturous children from our Father stray To make our selves unto our fees a prey Our sin a monster but our grace a brat And yet we will be prodigall of that Our tender Father who best knows our frame Our weaknesse sees and warns us of the same We are so wilfull though most weak indeed That we will trust unto our strength that reed Our Father sees what snares abroad are laying And therefore seeks to keep t is in from straying We by the worlds alluring wiles mistooke Suck down the bait suspecting not
Makers skill So wonderfull in working of that shell A shell indeed we may the corps affirme Which hath no soule the soule a kernell tearm The shell a chest of curious art compos'd The kirnell is the treasure therein clos'd Then of what knowledge is he like to speed Of what man is by taking up that leed Which priz'd ope once by deaths steel pointed dart Mans soule flies out which is his better part Physitians then by ripping up the dead To view the body when the soule is fâ—ed Can thereby doubtlesse not directly see At all times how the elements agree In humane bodies nor exactly tell How humors flow and hurtfull vapours swell When as the soule commanding in the same Sets every wheel a working in that frame But say by this and other helpfull means Whereon some learned wise Physitian leans He could at all times perfectly relate The ever changing temper and estate Of humane bodies which no mortall can I am resolv'd 't is past the reach of man But grant he could yet what were all his art Alas but to discover man in part The least part and inferior too as far As is a sparkle from a perfect star The soule indeed that is the only gem In search whereof the clearest sight is dim Grave Pliny Galen Aristotle all That men for skill did most renowned call In former times were failing in this kinde Yea in this eye of knowledge almost blinde The rayes of this so dazled them though wise The more they look'd the more they lost their eyes Excepting Cato and some other few Who were inspir'd with a more piercing view Nay what man living failes not in this kinde Who knowes the motions of anothers minde Or pryes so far into anothers breast To finde how his affections are at rest What endlesse windings occupie his thought And deep devices in his braine are wrought Which sinking to their centre do convert To secret resolutions in the heart Nay silly men we are our selves so far From self discerning what we truly are Within our selves that we can hardly tell What is amisse in us or what is well Our hearts in us are so deceitfull grown We cannot search those bottomes of our own Oh silly creatures silly sure at least Who beare we know not what within our breast Nay in our bosomes shrowd a serpent which To seem a Saint doth mightily bewitch 'T is then no marvell though we may complain That our affections are exceeding vain Our thoughts our wits and all with folly haunted When all comes from a fountain so inchanted Deluded be we out of question must Who have a power within us so unjust A power indeed most potent too a heart Which nature makes the over-ruling part Which force doth sure sufficient battell give And more then we can conquer whiles we live Yet whiles we live we must be ever trying Though cannot fully conquer without dying Lord what is man then still we must inquire We are to seek still raise our judgements higher How comes our hearts so evill and accurst Sith thou created'st all things good at first Or how come we unto our selves so blinde That in our selves our selves we cannot finde Lost we so much inheriting of sin That by that gaine we lost our selves therein Prodigious action racing such a tower Prevailing so on thy creating power What thou hadst form'd deform'd and form'd again A most deformed form which doth remain God Al-creating it was in thy power To have restrayn'd that enemy of our Who wrought upon thy workmanship so far As to unmake and make us what we are But this was for our exercise no doubt That thou maist crowne us when the field is fought Besides to make thy love appear the more Remaking us more glorious then before Thou mad'st man sinlesse subject though to slide But thou wilt make him sinlesse to abide Thou gav'st him here a Paradise indeed But thou wilt give him heaven which doth exceed Lord what is man then man that dares to sin Of whom thou hast so ever mindfull been A world before this present world was wrought Admired man was pretious in thy thought Pretious indeed in such a boundlesse measure As if that man should be thy only treasure And thereupon determin'd in thy breast To seat him highest and to love him best Such wonders in that Moses face foreseeing As pleas'd thee well before he had his being Wherein indeed was manifestly shown Thou wouldst unite mans nature to thine own When in thy wisdome thou didst think it meet To set that fore-known creature on his feet To give man form that little world to frame What preparation mad'st thou for the same What heart of man can truly on it ponder And not be rap'd up in any holy wonder Before thou wouldst this wonder undertake Thou sell'st to working wonders for his sake Six dayes almost expired in preparing Of wondrous things against this wonders roaring Thy powerfull hand thy Spirit was imploy'd By moving on a mighty Chaos void Of form or beauty thence to draw by art The dry and solid from the liquid part Both which thou having as it were given birth One part was waters and the other earth Both which continue hanging in a sort Unto our judgement without all support Indeed the waters do the earth surround Againe the earth is to the seas a bound But how this should uphold that globe from fall That doth exceed mans purest sense of all But ere these orbes were fixed not to move And sever'd from the orbes that are above Thou didst ordaine that ornament of light Creating day from a prodigious night In which thy wonder working hand was clear By making so thy wonders to appear For without light thy wonders wrought below Had been but like the secret winds that blow But it did please thee to set ope a door To let in light where darknesse dwelt before And here beneath injoyn'd a pleasant way Of entercourse between the night and day And further yet to furnish thy desire Thou yet mad'st greater lights and set them higher And plac'd the lesse in absence of the Sun That night might not to former darknesse run Besides for signes and tokens in our clymes As perfect rules distinguishing of times Nay further by their fervor from above To make the earth a fruitfull mother prove For till the Sun unto our regions come And warms the earth it seems a barren womb When thou hadst made the firmament thus faire Whose rayes come darting to us through the aire Extending severall curtaines as the shrouds Between the higher and the nether clouds That by a secret interposing way One element support another may When thou had'st drawne the waters here below Into one fountaine there to ebbe and flow And when thou had'st the face of earth made plaine And made its bars the bottome of the main Upon which sure and deep foundation lay'd The pillars rear'd whereon this frame is staid Thou then began'st to looke into