husbandman must till and sow That grounds ill drest where blind men hold the plough Now in the Temple every saucy Jack Opens his shop and shews his pedlars pack Instead of candles we enjoy the snuff For precious balme we have but kitchin stuffe The ruder sort are by these teachers led Who acrons eat and might have better bread If this a propagation shall be found These build the house which pull it to the grâ—unâ— This is meere Hocus-Pocus a sttange slight By putting candles out to gain more light Mad men by vertue of this propagation Have Bedlum left and preach't for Reformation And they might well turn preachers for we had Many that were more foolish and more mad The Tinkar being one of excellent mettle Begins to sound his doctrine with his Kettle And the laborious ploughman I bewail Who now doth thresh the Pulpit with his flail The louzy Taylor with his holy thimble Doth patch a sermon up most quick and nimble He doth his skill and wisdom much expresse When with his goose he doth the Scripture presse The Chandler now a man of light we find His candle leaves a stinking snuffe behind The Apothecary who can give a glister Unto a holy brother or a sister Hath one dram of the spirit and can pray Or preach and make no scruple of his way Thus false coyn doth for currant money passe And precious stones are valued lesse than glasse Not disputation but a rigid law Must keep these frantick sectarists in aw The itch of disputation will break out Into a scab of errour which without Some speedy help will soon infect and run Through all the flock where it hath once begun I will take heed in these bad times and care To shut my shop but keep my constant ware Lord let thy tender vine no longer bleed Call hâ—me thy shepheards which thy lambs may feed A Prayer to the Holy Ghost O Holy Spirit O most sacred Dove Which didst descend upon the Son of Love Descend upon my soul that I may be Simple as Doves without malignity O holy Fire inflame my lukewarm heart And better heat of love divine impart O holy Fire O thou Eternal Light Expel the clouds of everlasting night O holy Fire let my soul purged be From all her dross as purest gold is free O holy Fire dissolve my heart like wax Which nothing but thy fair impression lacks O holy Fire vouchsafe in me to dwell And keep my soul from the strange fire of hell Antipathy I Love him not but shew no reason can Wherefore but this I do not love the man Astrology To the profound and learned Gentleman Mr. Vincent Wing Qui Naturae Aruspex intimus Atlas physicus nec non sensus rationis stupendus Arbiter WIse men believe inferior bodies move By dispensation from those Orbs above Stars do not force or by compulsion cause Our Natures to obey their constant laws Who seâ—â—â—s the God of pow'â— that made the spheres No sad 〈…〉 pse or constellation fears Where vâ—â—tuous Reason guides not but the Sense There 〈◊〉 have their greatest influence God did the 〈◊〉 the Moon and Stars bestow Which do the course 〈◊〉 and seasons shew ' Gaâ—nst Sisera in theâ—â— orders sought the stars And helpt Gods people in their prosperous wars When Christ himself was born a star did bring And guide the wise men to find out their King And wise men still in stars a vertue find Which is kept secret from the duller mind Into brave spirits a pure light descends Which heavy darkness never comprehends I cannot call the stars by name nor track The Sun through twelve signs of the Zodiack Arcturus with his sons outgo my sense So do the Pleyades with their influence From the Pole-Artick what degrees there be Unto th' Antartique is unknown to me Our Zâ—nyth is too high for me to know What things are there our Nadyr is too low I do not understand how Planets move And differ in their several Orbs above The Circle from the Stars reflexion may Escape my knowledge call'd the milky way Such knowledge is too deep but yet I will A 〈◊〉 the path of that mysterious skill Solomon's Memento Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth Eccles 12. 1. DO not mispend thy golden youth and bring The dross of thy old age of serve thy King Do not neglect the morning of thy days And think the evening fit thy God to praise God early must be sought the longer we Persist in sin the stronger sin will be From vice to vertue turn from bad to good The deeper still he sinks who stands in mud A nail the further it is driven in The harder is drawn out and so is sin None can foretell how long the fatal glass Shall run or else how soon the sand will pass Delay no time that man will shrink and sear Who lays the burden on old age to bear Because the foolish Virgins came too late They heaven lost for Christ had shut the gate Should we be old are we then sure to store Our sould with grace which we refus'd before Through mire and dirt who travels all the day Will hardly go by night a cleaner way The Tenant which neglects th' appointed day Forfeit his lease and fret his Landlord may Vpon the Right Worshipful Sir Francis Floyd Knight Sou to the most eloquent pious learned and honorable Judge Sir Marmaduke Floyd Knight VErtue can never be conceal'd her flame Shines bright and will disclose a vertuous name A brave report of his great worth we hear As loud as thunder in our Hemisphere Contagious times could never make a spot On his fair clothes or his white paper blot He could not flatter or affect the crime To temporize or smooth the ruder time Fixt in his station like a losty hill He simply stood and scorn'd to change his will I wish he may enjoy fair Halcion days And Heaven bless his meritorious ways Even so come Lord Jesus Rev. 22. 20. THe pretty Bird imprison'd in his cage Would fain go free and spend his merry age In spacious woods So is my better mind As to a prison to my flesh confin'd Make haste sweet Jesus to strike off my shackle And to dissolve this earthly tabernacle Thou art on earth the earth's most perfect pleasure Thou art in heaven heavens richest treasure Let others dote on beauty honour wealth Thou art my great reward my joy my health My soul is ravisht with thy love and sickly Then come my sweetest Jesus oh come quickly Vpon Natures Darling the young ingenuous Gentleman Mr. James Jones Sâ—n to Edmund Jones Esq HE is in years a child but if you scan The ripeness of his wit he is a man This graff from such a gallant stock will be In time succeeding a most fruitful treâ— This Plant will prove a goodly Oak and give A pleasant shade the weary to relieve His Spring foretels the Autumn and such rayes Dart from the morning of
die to morrow Life is to him no joy nor yet a sorrow Hell Qui per malam vitam negligit â—oelâ—m per justiâ—â—am Dei cadit in Infernum GOOD Lord deliver me from hell where grief Is without end and pain without relief In this dark dungeon damned spirits lâ—e Where the foul woâ—m of conscience doth not die Nor fire go out where the most wretched soul Doth but in vain for pardon cry and houl Here they do gnash their teeth they spend sad teaâ—s Full of distractions horrid thoughts and fears From Gods sweet presence from eternal light From holy Angels and from Saints delight Fâ—om heavens glory now they banisht are What torment is this no man can d clare If after twenty thousand years of pain And thousands more the damn'd were sure to gaâ—n A pardon and come out this grant would be Some comfort to them in their misery But there is no such hope the Judgement 's past And cannot be revok'd the gate is fast And never can be opened who can tell What dreadful lamentations are in hell I know that heaven is above but how Or where hell stands Lord let me never know The prosperity of the wicked Vt paupert as bonorum est beata sic prosperit as impiâ—rum est maledicta SOmetimes the wicked flourish like the bay Which still keeps green when better trees decay Have you observ'd how little streams do swell And rise above their banks and then have fell And sunk into their Channels so we know Base men have risen high then fallen low That Kingdom is in an unhappy case Where Cedars fall and shrubs possess their place With joy and pleasure Upstarts climb the hill Again they tumble down against their will Those men do much mistake who only measure A Christians welfare by his worldly treasure An Angel hath no gold no beasts nor land And yet he is not poor his wealth doth stand In better things although the just mans store Is small he hath enough and needs no more God doth his grace instead of wealth impart And with contentment doth enrich his heart The bad mâ—ns wealth with discontent doth dwell His heaven is but interm'xt with hell Be not in love with gold a golden purse Is without grace no blessing but a curse The Martyr Martyrium est baptismus sanguinis SOme in gay feathers do the Peacocks play While 't is fair weather and a sunny day But when 't is clouded and the storms begin Like fearful snails they keep their horns within Pure Fountain-water doth most heat contain The winter time Good men in greatest pain And hardest times or dangers valiant prove And do express the greatest heat of love A Christian from his faith will never start If thousands should present and fire his heart He loves not life life is to him a pain He fears not death death is to him a gain He dies a Saint for truth who spends his breath The cause proclaims a Martyr not the death The blood of Martyrs is the fruâ—tful seed Which being sown doth still more Christians breed The DEVIL Monstrum horrâ—ndum informe ingens cui lumen ademptuâ— GOD bless me from the Devil â—oe to man If God rules not that great Leviathan Dâ—â—k soggy mists he câ—sts before our eyes To make us credit his phantastick lyes His greatest proffers are but painted toyes 〈◊〉 thâ—ough with grief and onely fac'd with joyes With pleasant potions and with sugred pilâ—â— The Devil tempts his patient when he kills He tempted David with Bathsheba fair Jâ—das with silver-pieces whom despair Brought to perdition with a beauteous face He brought two wanton Elders to disgrace With Naboths vineyard Achab he beguil'd So he with blood his guilty hands defil'd He cozen'd Achan with a wedge of gold Eve with an apple No man can unfold His various tricks he knoweth when to fish What bait you love what things you chiefly wish Three ways he useth most Wine women wealth By which he creeps into the heart by stealth Resist him at the first he 'll flie away Get but the morning and you have the day The Sinners Petition Non opus est misericordia ubi non est peccatum AFter some sick and tedious hours of night The Patient longs for the approaching light The thirsty Deer doth panting run and look Desiring to find out the water-bâ—ook So pants my soul and sighs and longs to see Thy saving health to make thy servant free How am I circled with thick clouds of sin And still a thred of vain delights I spin The Sun of glory these daâ—k clouds can chase And cleer me with the beauty of his face Wash Lord my scaâ—let sins that knowest how To make me wâ—â—teâ— than the â—lâ—eâ—e of snow Remember not my rash and ill spent youth When I could fancy lyes and hate the truth Those sins are wormwood now and bitter gall My pleasures then I now my sorrows call I creep unto thy gate and do implore Thy gracious love to cure my cankred sore Receive me in although I come so late Thou hast the keyes to open heavens gate A Hymn HEar me thou God of my delight Me inspire with thy fire Pure and bright Cleer my face with thy grace Turn I pray night to day With the beams of thy glorious light My waters calm and cure me with thy balm Have in store for my sore Some redress Rid my fears wipe the tears Which mine eyes do surprise And me with thy pleasures bless Great King break not a bruised reed Give me bread to be sed At my need Call to mind Loâ—d how kind Christ thy Son me hath won When his â—recious side must bleed Keep me fâ—om thrall and let me never fall Into woe lâ—st my soe May be glad Let thy wing comfort bâ—ing To my â—â—nd when I find My soul in her â—â—â—rning 〈◊〉 All laud unto the glorious King Whose great love we may prove By each thing Heart and voice shall rejoyce And my breath unto death Shall harmonious Anthems sing Lord when I die let my spirit flie To thy throne where alone Thou dost raign Perfect health and true wealth Quiet peace never cease In thy Kingdom there 's no pain Glory unto the Father be To the Son it be done Equally Praise and boast th' Holy Ghost With thy power every hour One true God in Persons three Now 't is even as heretofore it was And shall be certainly Evermore His great light hath no night Nor can he changed be But remains as he was before Drunkenness Elrietas brevis est insania USE golden Temperance that anchor may In greatest floods thy boat that wanders stay Who drinks too much and doth in tâ—verns dwell May want a drop to cool his tongue in hell Poâ—ts write of Men transform'd to bâ—asts if true I do believe they were some Drunken â—â—ue No Wolf no Ass more fierce more shameless can Or careless be than is a drunken man Lust murder folly falshood anger pride Possess foul
wanton play And think with gold and pearl t' outshine the day Give me a wife that can the Spindle use The Book the Needle free from brawls and news Take heed of her that sanctifies her face And never prates without a Scripture phrase One chast and merry lovely kind and wise Active well bred contents both heart and eyes Desire the hand of God to point thy wayes He never falls that in his journey prayes The Rainbow Ingens bibit arcus Virg. VAriety of colours may be seen Within the Rainbow chiefly red and green Green shews the Deluge which did overflow And drown the whole Creation here below Red shews the world when times age shall expire Must be refin'd if not consum'd by fire We see no arrow in this bow nor string It threatens not but doth glad-tidings bring The glorious bow of heaven doth foreshow Sweet showers of Blessings not of Judgements now Grant me thy mercies Lord cast not thy dart Nor shoot thine arrow at my wounded heart The Carpenter Is not this the Carpenter's Son GOD is the Carpenter whose skilful hand Upon the waters made this Oâ—b to stand He did compose the gate which is the way To heavens bliss and keeps himself the key He hath his Plain when we are rough and wild To make our stubborn Natures smooth and mild He hath his perfect Rule his Sâ—we his Axe To order that which reformation lacks This Carpenter makes hearts and hands agree And joins them fast in bonds of Unity Lord join and glue my soul to thee so well That I in thee and thou in me may'st dwell Upon the Worshipful and most hopeful Gentleman Thomas Prise of Whisteston Esq HE is in years but young yet grave and wise Old age and youth in him do sympathize Nature made use of Art before she could Make one at the same time both young and old His heart is gallant humble just and free There only vertues keep their Hierarchie The pleasant Whisteston is his Mansion place Where Nature Aâ—t and Art doth Nature grace In that fair dwelling we may find much pleasure But yet in him consists the chiefest treasure Wealth Honour Pleasure are no more we find But hansome Pages to his Nobler mind Upon the Nobly minded and most pious Gentlewoman Mrs. Mary Williams daughter to that worthy Gentleman Thomas Gwyn of the Hay-Castle Esq Saecula Phaenices nulla tulere duos FResh is the morn the Maiden-head of day Sweet are the flowers which breath perfumes in May. Fair is the Rose in June so doth her heart The sweetest ornaments of grace impart Here Vertue sits inthron'd as if she were Contented only with her dwelling there Her alms and pious deeds beyond compare For her a seat in heaven do prepare And glorious heaven is the fittest place To entertain so good a heart and face I wish the Sun an hundred years may rise With joy to wait upon her brighter eyes Affliction Deus vulneratâ— carnem ut sanet mentemâ— WHen for delight I took the purer air I have observ'd sweet Meadows green and fair O'relaid with dung which spoil'd the present grace But afterwards it gave a better face Affliction makes one dark but we may find It adds more gracious beauty to the mind Afflictions are Gods Skullions and these must Scoure and preserve his houshold stuff from rust They are his Masons which do smooth and square Stones for the Temple which unpolisht are The more the patient Camamile we tread The more it will by dilatation spread The gentle fire if often blown will burn With greater heat and to more fury turn So Christians by afflâ—ctions stronger grow They patience may no base submission show When Christ was on the earth they crown'd his head With thorns and made the wooden Cross his bed They gave him vinegar and gall when he Did sorely thirst in his strong agonie If that the King could have no better meat What dainties shall the beggar think to eat The Paschal Lamb with bitter herbs was eaten If we are Christs we surely shall be beaten The World Omnia vanitas THE World 's a garden which the fancy feeds And yields few wholsom herbs but many weeds Fools may commend and give a golden gloss To things that glister but indeed are dross When serious I consider in my cage The strange Meanders of the present Age And see the chance and change of every thing From the poor beggar to the richest King All worldly pleasures but false dreams I find Which may distract but not content the mind Our life is short our greatest riches vain Our wisdom folly and our pleasure pain As wave on wave so grief on grief doth fall One trouble doth another sorrow call Build on the Rock if thou wilt safely stand He sinks who builds upon deceitful sand The Remedy of Love NO woman lives but in her eye We may some moats or beams espy Thy Helen may be fair but stay Thy Helen will the wanton play Thy Celia may be fair but proud Crumena rich but sharp and loud Eugenia may be full of wit But wisdom wants to temper it Lutâ—tia may deserve thy love If vertue can affection move She 's fair within but foul without And who would use a dirty clout A foul tripe may thy taste annoy Eat Phesants still they will thee cloy And thus no Beauty is so cleer But storms in it and clouds appear Some foul disease some grievous pain May Celia's blushing roses stain Or age with furrows will disgrace The pleasant meadow of her face Consider then be sick no more Since reason may thy health restore If beauty doth so quickly pass Oh seek a richer pearl than glass That precious Beauty which expels All clouds of grief in heaven dwels There fix thy mind and thou shalt see What imperfections women be Judas his Kiss Judas did with a Kiss his Lord betray Many seem friends when they the Traitors play Judas was proud and kist our Saviours face Presumption brought him to th' infâ—rnal place Mary did kiss Christs feet which humble kiss Exalted her to the celestial bliss Judas and Mary kist him both we find Alike in lips but much dislike in mind God weighs the heart whom we can never move By outward actions without inward love Upon the most learned Gentleman Doctor Aurelius Williams Dr. of Physick SOme writers hold which is most strange to me There may of souls a transmigration be If it be so I swear that Galen is Reviv'd in him by Metampsychosis A thousand more than dy'd Death thought to kill Had Death not been prevented by his skill Vpon a drunken Woman WOuld'st thou a Monster or a Devil see Or else in Nature some sad Prodigie Then on a drunken Woman cast thine eye All those are seen in her deformity The Priesthood 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 'T Was Jeroboam's practice and his sport Priests to elect out of the baser sort As it was in those dayes of old so now They have full orders
The Tâ—uth is pure to clense our souls from sin I ft we do walk this Way this Truth maintain Eernal life is ours exempt from pain This is the Way without all rubs of grief This is the Truth which claims a just belief Here is the Life which conquer'd death and sin Truth Life is ones if we the way be in Theâ— Truth informs us and the Way doth gulde The Life rewards us if we constant bide Follow this Way embrace this Truth desire This Life the crown of Saints in Heavens quire Thankfulness Ascensus gratiarum est descensus gratiae IN thee I have my being live and move Who art the King of glory and of love From thy rich storehouse of delight and pleasure I do receive my joy my gifts and treasure Who gives me bread to strengthen me and wine To glad my heart who made my soul divine Who gave me wisdom or spiritual eyes Good to discern from bad and Truth from lyes Who doth direct my ways but thou my King Which art the Fountain whence all vertues spring What shall I render thee I have no more Than what 's thine own thy riches are my store If thou sweet Lord wilt not my Heart disdain Thou gav'st it me I give it thee again The Holy Maid Dum fugio homines invenio angelos nunquam minùs sola quà m cùm sola IAm resolv'd no sond desire Shall kindle in me Cupids fire No amorous toyes no wanton kiss Shall â—ob me of eternal bliss I 'll write I 'll read I 'll spin I 'll pray To drive vain thoughts of Love away A silent Cloyster which is free From change and chance best pleaseth me When I do not converse with men I speak with God and Angels then I will not wear a rich attire Of gold or silk to set on fire Beholders eyes The care I find Most needful is to dress my mind No cunning Lover shall beguile Or win me with a gift or smile I will accept no pretty thing As Ribans Gloves a Watch or Ring Weak man's estate as in a glass Is truly seen in fading grass The choisest Man the fairest Rose Will languish and perfection lose And yet I am in love but where My love ascends a higher sphere Where honor beauty pleasures be Inthron'd and full of constancie My Beloved's white and ruddy My red sins made him all bloody His head is like fine gold most free From dross and all impurity His gracious eyes are like Doves eyes And in his cheeks composed lies A bed of spices and flowers sweet Where all perfumes together meet His mouth breathes roses and no bliss Can equal his delicious kiss But see where my Beloved lies And courts me with his dying eyes He spreads his arms me to embrace Who would noâ— love so sweet a face Rich drops of blood like rubies fall To ransom my poor soul from thrall The Cross my pillow and my bed Shall be his Grave to rest my head All sweets are sour all fair perfections foul Compar'd with Christ the Bridegroom of my soul In laudem Comitatus Herefordiensis Hic benè natus eram non benè notus eram Haec tell us pleno ditescit munere coeli Nec magè fructiferas dat Paradisus opes Optima qainque bonis florescunt commoda terris Unda silva frequens faemina lana seges Vitro splendidior lucido fluit unda salubris Quae faelix multo pisce notatur aqua Daâ—â— viâ—ides campis turgentia flumina vestes Wy Lug sunt patriae fluminâ— prima meae Hic quâ—rcus Jovis arbor adest quâ scindimus aequor Nobilitat varios plurima silva locos Hic est inâ—ocuae tam praestans forma puellae Verteret ut Monachos in nova vota pios Non pâ—aebet tibi tam pretiosam Hispania lanam Qualia dives opum veller a Lemster habet Diverso telum componit tramite bombyx Cum videas lanam hanc negligis illud opus Alma Ceres crescit gravidisque laboraâ— aristis Nec datur in toto copia parca so'o Paâ—rem hic tam placidum comedas ut credere posses maâ—â—â—m de summo vel cecidisse poto Teâ—tarent Evam fâ—lgâ—nâ—ia poma per agros Câ—â—scit pomorum â—uxuâ—iâ—sâ— proles 〈◊〉 Sâ—cera nâ—enâ—o non postponâ—nda Lyaeo Qâ—â—â— Nâ—ctâ—r magni credo fuisse Jovis Haec gens fidelis gaudens virtute laboris Experiens fortis blâ—nda jocosa sagar Hospitio gaudet populus studiosus amoris Et colâ—t antiquum Religiâ—nis opus Musa silere jubâ—t nunquam imbecilla son â—bit Ex merito laudes buccina nostra tuas Come unto me all you that labour and are heavy laden and I will ease you Matthew 11. 28. Clamat Diabolus Venite ad me ego intersiciam Clamat Mundus Venite ad me ego desiciam Clamat Caro Venite ad me ego inficiam Clamat Christus Venite ad me ego refâ—ciam NOt Gilead's Balm no Pool in Siloam Not David's Hyssop and no Angel can Or blessed Saint in heaven cure the soul When sin hath made it like a Leper foul Christ is our Balsom and we have no Tree Whose leaves do Nations heal but only he Our Saviours sacred blood speaks better things Than Abels blood and greater comfort brings Gods anger was incens'd when Abel dy'd Our Saviours blood his anger pacifi'd The blood of Abel did for vengeance call Christs blood for love and mercy to us all Just Abels blood cry'd once and cry'd no more Our Saviours blood cries still God hath in store A Sea of mercies if we do depend On Christ our loving Bridegroom and our Friend He makes the lame to walk the blind to see The sad to sing for joy the pris'ner free Come all that labour Blessed is the man That hath some oil from this Samaritan Come not by strength of legs or feet but mind By prayers not by steps if rest you 'll find Mount with the wings of prayer and ascend Gods holy hill where pleasures never end The Hypocrite Monumentum speciosum THe Hypocrite his face his words his mind Into a thousand forms and shapes can wind This weather-cock with every blast can turn And he had rather change his faith than burn He cares not how so he may fill his dish He can in cleer and troubled waters fish He love protests where he doth deadly hate His words will run like oil and break your pate If men do hunt the Fox he 'll shout and cry 'T is fit the Fox which kill'd the lambs should die But if the Fox sits in the chair of State The Fox shall have his love the Lamb his hate If here the Tuâ—k should reign this man alone Would sell his Bible for an Alcharon I 'll speak no more of dung my heart is free From the base leaven of Hypocrisie Chastity A Woman chaste is like a Meadow fair Enricht with pleasant flowers and sweetest air Then woman lock thy privy chamber be A fountain seal'd not to all
comers free If thou art rich sell not thy self for pleasure If thou art poor sell not thy self for treasure Make not thy self a Common it is found There 's better pasture in inclosed ground Predestination Occulta esse causa potest injusta esse non potest DIspute not why some Angels stood And others fell which were by nature good Dispute not wherefore God doth take and chuse Some to his grace and others doth refuse The potter doth of the same lump of clay Make vessels some more base and some more gay And shall we question Gods most secret will Why his own creatures he doth save or kill Who 's sav'd or damn'd none knows who look Into the Lords Predestination-book The signs or symptoms which Election prove Are lively faith and undefiled love I will serve God and shake off sinful slumber Who knows but I am of th' elected number The Poets Condition Est Deus in nobis agitanâ—e calescimus illo A Poet and rich that seems to be A paradox most strange to me A Poet and poor that Maxim's true If we observe the Canting ciue What lands had Randolph or great Ben That plow'd much paper with his pen Wise Chaucer as old Records say Had never but his length of clay And by some men I have been told That Cleaveland had more brains than gold Shew me a Poet and I 'll shew thee An Emblem of rich poverty An hundred Verses though divine Will never buy one pint of wine I have a purse as free within From gold as Heaven is from sin And silver thinks I do it wrong If I imprison it too long My purse no constant measure knows But like the Sea it ebbs and flows And as my purse doth rise or fall So I do rule my senses all When I have silver or pure gold I am most brave divine and bold And then I do not hold it fit That any should outvie m' in wit But when these birds have taken wing I cannot crack a jest nor sing All mirth and musick I detest And mad Orlando Mortuus est But stay I think no worldly gain So sweet as a Poetick vein No grief disturbs a Poets head No discontent frequents his bed When riches ebb my wits do flow The rich are dull and nothing know I have a heart I have a mind More quick in motion than the wind And through the twelve Signs I can run By thought more swiftly than the Sun I know the motion of the Stars Which are for peace which are for wars If I the Astrolabium take I know their height without mistake I know without all doubt or wonder The cause of lightning and of thunder What weather will be I descry By the complexion of the sky The vertues of each plant or tree Of flowers and herbs are known to me I good and evil Angels know And can their strength and order show But O my God I know thee best When I confess I know thee least Thus I when I am poor and bare By meditations banish care Then judge which is the greatest curse An empty head or empty curse Upon Peter Fishing DO'st fish in the deep sea 't is Christs command That thou shouldst rather fish upon dry land Thou art a Fisher not of fish but men Consider how to catch them where and when He that will fish for men the only hook Which he must use must be the holy book The Scripture is the net which drags great store From Seas of troubles to the blessed shore To the fond Lover Est forma fugax est foemina fallax BE resolute fond youth and free From courting her which loves not thee Strange passions rule a Lovers brain Now tears then smiles now joy then pain Now hope doth rule then black despair Now he exclaims then calls her fair He sometimes doth Gods aid implore But loves and calls on Caelia more No joy no wealth no worldly bliss May be compar'd with Caelia's kiss But we may seek and find as well Most perfect rest and ease from hell As to derive our Paradise From any womans wanton eyes We shall for honey look in vain From a foul nest of wasps to gain Caelia cheats with her false treasure Guilding pains and death with pleasure She is a wavering fickle toy None is more fond none is more coy If thou art strange then she is free If free thou art she 's strange to thee She will reject if thou dost chuse She will affect if thou refuse If thou art yee then she is fire Burn thou and she will quench desire When thou art kind then she will frown When thou disdain'st she is thine own She laughs and weeps she 's kind and sour She grants denies all in an hour Her bitter frowns her sweetest smiles Are all compos'd of snares and wiles She paints an outward face of love Where she will most a tyrant prove And sometimes she pretends to hate Where her sick soul is captivate What she desires to scorn she fains And seems to wish what she disdains Thus a poor Lover knows not well Whether he is in heaven or hell Then fix thy love on Christ thy Rock Not on a wavering Weather-cock The Presbyterian Covenanter THE Presbyterian as wise men may see Hath little knowledge less of honesty He is both Fool and Knave or such another As wicked Cain was who did kill his brother He 's lately come to England with a story Of a new Pamphlet call'd a Directory His Cloak is something short his looks demure His heart is rotten when his words are pure His mind is carried with a headlong tide Of self-will worldly love presumptuous pride He 's sick of late a vomit may do well Oaths Covenants Tâ—easons from his heart t' expel In this our Land this Presbyterian brat Like Pharoah's lean kine hath devour'd the fat In Scotland he was bred a place too wild To breed an honest or a civil child Let Presbyterians be to Scotland sent I wish them no more plague or punishment Than pleasant flowers will in Gods garden sprout When these unwholsom weeds are rooted out Upon the young most beautiful and most ingenuous Gentlewoman Mrs. Mary Carne Daughter to the gallant Gentleman Mr Thomas Carne Esq once of Bro-Castle IT is a strange and wondrous thing â—o see ripe Autumn in the Spring He scarcely livâ—s that ever saw Fâ—uit the same time both ripe and raw As strange a thing we may behold In her so young in her so old She is a â—ender Child in years I◠〈◊〉 a Matron she appears Observe her growth she is but small Observâ— her wit she is most tâ—ll Here Natuâ—e seems to rob Old age By making Childhood 〈…〉 ve and sage So cleer a Moâ—ning doth betray And speak the fairness of the day So sweet a Bud doth well disclose We may expect a fragrant Rose As shâ— within is free from dross So Nature gave her such a gloss Of gracious Beauty that we have Nothing except her