in Arts fairest Founts thy Feathers wash to flye to him that Heau'n and Earth adores Thy Raptures else are but such Rauishments as are reproachfull penall lewde and light But Raptures farre aboue the Elements doe shew thy Vertue in the fairest â—light O then thou great vnlimitable Muse that rests in motion in th'ETERNALS Breast Inspire my Muse with grace her pow'r to vse in nought but what to thee shall be addrest So shall that Spirit that made thy Dauid sing Make Dauies too a Begger like a King THE MVSES SACRIFICE A Confession of sinnes with petition for grace O Trinall Vnion God creating Gods O sole resistles all-effecting Pow'r When wilt attone twixt mee and thee the ods Till when eternall I account each how'r I am O Lord thy Creature re-created Made marr'd re-made by Loue by Sinne by Grace Shall Loue and Grace by Sinne be so defeated That Loue should lose her labor Grace her place Thou art the Salue and I the mortall Sore Yet with one touch thy vertue can reuiue me To heale this Sore a Speare thy heart did gore Kinde Pelican that thy Bloud might relieue me Thy Hands that form'd reform'd and me conform'd Were to a Crosse transfixed for my sake To help my hatefull hands that sinne inorm'd Then can those helping Hands their Cure forsake Thy Head was crown'd with Thorny Diadem To cure mine crown'd with Sinnes sweet-pricking Roses Thy body ah did bloud water streame To wash away Sinnes soile which mine encloses Thy Feete was crosse-wise nailed to a Crosse To heale mine swolne with running into vice On thy saire Skin whips did my Crimes engrosse So freedst thou me from them with bloudy price Then can such Loue now leaue the thing it lou'd Is Sinne so sowre to turne sweete Loue to Hate To dye for Sinne it thee alone behou'd And yet shall Sinne thy Deaths desert abate O God forbid sith Sinne and Death and Hell Thou on the Crosse didst conquer throgh thy death And by the pow'r thereof their pow'r didst quell To lowest deepes and it restrain'd beneath Besides thou saist but Truth what canst thou say A Gulph is set the two Extreames betweene Twixt Heauen and Hell no entercourses may By meanes thereof at any time be seene I am in Heauen for in thy glorious Wounds By Faith I hide me from Sinne Death and Hell If Sathan for my plague would breake his bounds Those Gulphes of grace to stay will him compell Then keep me in thy Wounds my soules sole heau'n From whence if out-cast I to Hell must fall Where out-cast-like of Hope shall be bereau'n If reft of Hope then reft of Help withall But help me Lord else hopelesse shall I be Thy help the hopefull neuer faild at need Then sith my hope of help alone 's in thee Let speedy help my ready hope succeed Vpon thine Hand thine hand hath writ my Name Then reade thy Hand and saue me by the same A Sinners acknowledgement of his Vilenesse and Mutabilitie SPare me deare Lord my daies as nothing be Consum'd in Sin then which is nothing worse Yet Sinne is nothing yet can well agree With nothing but thy vengeance and thy curse Yet is it that without which none can liue Sprong from our Proto-parents rootes of strife Linckt to that Curse that Life a crosse doth giue not crosse of Life but crosse in Booke of Life Then happy that that Life yet neuer had Life that still subiect is to such a crosse And haplesse I that liue in life so bad Where life is found with lifes eternall losse Ah what am I but slime durt dounge and dust Graue-monsteâ—s food Wormes pittance most impure Sprong froÌ„ the earth vnto earth that must How where or when I sure am most vnsure Abortiue Brat of damn'd Concupiscence Hels heire Heau'ns hate eternall food for Fire A Gulph of griefe and Sincke of foule offence Scum of vaine Pride and froth of damn'd Desire Copesmate of Beasts and to a Beast transform'd A Dungeon darke a loathsome Lumpe of Earth Fardle of filth prodigious foule deform'd Dishonours vassaile cursed childe of Wrath Patterne of Vice and Mould of Vanitie Made of the Molde that marres what ere it makes Errors misse-maze where lost is Veritie Or blinded so that still wrong course it takes A Bramble Bryer an vse-lesse barren Plant A Dogge a Hogge a Viper most vnkinde A Rocke of wracke dry Well of eu'ry Want A Weather-cocke more wau'ring then the winde A thing of naught a naughtie thing that marres What Goodnesse makes a damn'd incarnate Deuill Contentions Source Loues hate still causing iarres A banefull weede and Roote of eu'ry euill What shall I say A Map of miserie Confusions Chaos Frailties Spectacle The Worlds disease Times vgliâ—â—â— Prodigie Th' abuse of Men and Sh 〈…〉 â—btectacle Mortall and to a Bubble suteable Whose slesh as Flowres whose life as Houres consumes Of matter made more then most mutable Yet sure of certaine death of life presumes Fraile life which more it lasts the sooner worne The longer drawne the shorter is the date Hedg'd in with cares as with an Hedge of Thorne Whose piercing prickes the minde doe vulnerate If merry now anone with woe I weepe If lustie now forth-with am water-weake If now aliue anone am buried deepe That houre that glads the heart the heart doth breake One while I laugh another while I lowre Now ioy in Griefe and then in Ioy I grieue Now wake in Care then sleepe I straight secure Now I dispaire then Hope doth me relieue Now sigh for sinne then sinne so sigh in vaine Now minde I Heau'n then Earth excogitate Now fast and pray then feast and prate againe Now labours end then labours renouate Now am I loose then lose I libertie Now sound then sicke now vp then downe I fall Now am I safe and then in ieopardie Now ouerco 〈…〉 then put to the wall Now I discourse then mute againe I muse Now seek the World then search I for thy Waies Now am abus'd and then I doe abuse Now hate then loue now praise then straight dispraise Now This I long for by and by for That This now delights me then with that am cloid Now would haue this and then I wot not what And thus with This and That am still annoid To count the count-lesse vaine varieties Wherewith this mortall life surrounded is Or to recite our vaines in vanities I may as of the Starres the reck'ning misse All that this earthy Boowle on breast doth beare Is subiect most to most vnconstant state One moment makes as if they neuer were And eu'ry minute drawes them to their date The heate the cold the hunger thirst and all The miseries that life fraile life annoy Which swarming hide this Globe terrestriall No Tongue can tell thogh all their pow'rs employ Death seconds these if not the second Death Who with his fatall Fanne sweepes all away At All saith he whose nostrils bound their breath Thus carelesly at All with All
knows loues thee loues his soule To see to know to loue thee grace must moue me For flesh doth fancie by-pathes filthy foule Who knowes thee shall of force himselfe forget Who loues thee as his life his life will loath Yea lose his life that he his life may get Immortall making Soule and Body both But I alas accursed that I am For externe ioy from interne blisse doth range My fairest sollace is my foulest shame My sense betraid the best for worst doth change Here-hence it is I like not that thou lou'st I wretch loue outward but thou inward Ioy I fleshly pleasures spirituall thou approu'st I abiect things which things thee most annoy Thou art in Heauen and I in Earth doe dwell Nay Heau'n of Heau'ns is thine abiding place But I in Earth as low as lowest Hell Remaine and ioy in paine in senselesse case Thou light I darke thou good I passing bad Thou Ioy I griefe thou loue I lump of hate Thou wise I fond thou meeke with pride I mad Thou rich most rich and I in staruing state Then how deare Lord should so great difference Be reconcil'd and linckt in vnitie Ah here 's my feare here 's all my diffidâ—nce Then help ô help help holy Trinitie In that all-doing powerfull power of thine Mend mine amisse and me to Thee combine The Complaint of a Sinner IN the vexation of an humbled Spirit Deuoured in the depth of wretched State With feare and trembling I approch thy fight As one deare Lord as poore as desolate Neare to thy mercies flouds my selfe I set Vpon the Banckes of thy rich Graces streames That my dry Soule may so therewith be wet Before the Sunne of Iustice scorching Beames Lo I a masse of rude vnformed Clay Present my selfe to thine All-making skill To doe all my deformities away And to informe my Wit reforme my Will Great is my boldnesse so to tempt thy Grace With such presumption but deare Lord let me Make bold thy loue still tendred to embrace Lest strange to It I might be strange to Thee Yet when I waigh mine owne vnworthinesse Together with thy Loues high dignitie I am too bold with It I doe confesse To entertaine It to such misery I am too vile to loue or to be lou'd Of thee deare Lord the life of dearest Loue Yet by thy Loue to loue I still am mou'd Though I thy loue to hate doe euer moue Thou dost command giue what coÌ„mand thou dost Then what thou wilt command It shall be done That I should loue beyond mine vttermost As thou dost loue beyond comparison In Loue thou mad'st me onely but to loue And me re-mad'st in loue to loue alone Thou threatnest me if I vnlouing proue And wouldst that we though two shold be as One. Yea for my loue thou ceaselesse so dost woo me That seeing me in loue quite dull and dead Thou giuest me Thee that I should giue me to thee In forme of Flesh as thou in forme of Bread Lord what am I that thou shouldst woo me so And seeke t' inflame my loue with thy Loues heat What am I to Thee but a world of woe A little World of Sinne past measure great A Crosse of Crosses for so crosse I am That eu'ry thing I doe is quite a thwart And that which is most crosse I blesse the same As that which most agrees with my curst-heart And what art thou to me but peace and rest Saluation Ioy and whatsoe'er is good By whom I most accursed most am blest Who mad'st me blamelesse in thy blessed bloud Then of such pledges of thy Loue possest And that but loue alone thy loue doth craue O giue me that which thy loue doth request And I will giue thee what thy Loue would haue Ill I can giue Thee that is onely mine But Good I haue from Thee thy gift it is If thou wilt none of mine then giue me thine Take that from me deare Lord and giue me this Thou art not pleas'd but with what 's onely thine Yet I am thine and yet not pleas'd thou art If thou haue nought with me but what is mine Although I gaue to thee me dearest heart For as it is my Heart it 's most vncleane And all vncleannesse thou dost most detest Then thou art both the cause effect and meane That thou dost loue it as thine interest Yet as mine owne I haue what haue I not with it that is not absolutely good My Christ but ah alas I haue forgot Thou gau'st him first bought'st me with his bloud But yet that 's all I haue that 's all in all To giue thee as goods common vs betwixt To me Hee came from Thee to thee Hee shall For me in passion with my passions mixt If mine be such as make his much the more They his are much more meritorious And yet if Mine be couer'd with his gore Then will deserue thy loue and fasten vs Then take him Lord I haue none other shift To show my Loue but with thine onely Gift The thirst of the Soule after God the Fountaine of Life MIne heau'nly Head giue me thy Member grace Thee to desire desiring thee to secke Seeking to finde finding to loue thy face And louing lothe what is thee most vnlike To my Heart Faith to mine Eyes flouds of teares To my Soule griefe to that griefe ioy of Spirit To my Faith Hope to my Hope Loue and Feare And vnto all giue all direction right O Loue essentiall increated Loue Loue infinite the Fount of Loue and Grace With pow'r o'erflowing all the powers aboue Or whatsoeuer is in blessed case How can I choose but loue thee how can I But with such flaming Loue be fired quite That fires the whole Worlds Vniuersitie Yea well-nigh burnes melts the same out-right O God! thou art the most abstracted GOOD Which yet abstracted art much more abstract Which is Loues Obiect and Lifes liuelihood Which doth my Loue to Loue in Loue coact How can I choose but flame so set on fire With loue which burns what ere in loue was made What but that Loue can quench my Loues desire Or me to Loue so pow'rfully perswade And if I cannot loue Thee for thy Loue Nor for thy goodnesse being more then GOOD Yet me thereto should Profit more then moue For of all Good th' art the boundlesse floud Youth loues the Eld from whom it Being drawes The Members loue the Head by whom they liue And all Effects by nature loue their Cause Sith It to those Effects doth Essence giue Then sith thou art my Cause my Head my Sirâ— Looke what Those owe to These by whom they be Nay more for thou art all in all intire That LORD and more then That I owe to Thee Thou gau'st me Being ere my Sire it gaue For with Thee was I ere I was of Thee And now preseru'st the Being which I haue Better then by the Head the Members be Thou dost effect what in me wanting is
Traitor worse then hee that solde thee it will for Meede or Dread the Soule betray Nor in fire is it willing to behold thee in fiery tryals then it shrinckes away Therefore when it a Champion of such might betraid to feare I dare not say I will No that 's Presumption but I wish I might for willing well without thee we doe ill Then be with me strong Pow'r and I will say I will and will performe that will in Deed For where thou art by Pow'r it 's but a play in greatest torments then to burne or bleed Now as thy Body grew so grew thy griefes for who deare Lord can possibly expresse Thy Persecutions void of all reliefe saue Praying Fasting Watching Wearinesse They spake against thee who sate in the Gate and common Drunkards ballads made of thee That thou might'st say in worse then Dauids state being poore I labour from mine Infancie These were the griefs dear Loue thy life did brook but in thy Death what Sense ere vnderstood What paines thou felt'st when like a rising brooke thy body more and more o'erflow'd with bloud Freedome made Captiue Mercy Miserie Grace quite disgraced beauty vilifide Innocence strooken Iustice doom'd to dye Glory quite shamed and Life crucifide O Heau'ns what can amaze with Wonderment the Sense of Man more then this what shall I Call this so strange vnheard of Loues extent that ouer-fils all Names Capacitie In few now Grace alone seemes Sinne alone Life dyes State 's whipt and Pow'r bound to a Poast The Glory of the Father spet vpon and in a word God seemeth to be lost In this Deepe further may my Soule not wade my strength is spent for my heart bleedes in me O glorious Grace O Maiestie vnmade is this for me O boundlesse Charitie If I for my Redemption am so tide to loue and honour thee What shall I bee For that thou did'st so many Deaths abide when one wold serue to make me more than free With what loue shall I quite this more then Loue with what life shall I imitate thy life With what teares shall I my repose reproue and with what Peace shall I conclude my strife I owe thee more for my redeeming Lord sith in the same thou Death of deaths didst proue Then for my Making which was with a Word for more much more thy Passion showde thy loue For if for Cherubins or Seraphins thou had'st thus di'd t 'had beene lesse meruellous But thou hast di'd for me a Sincke of sinnes which of all Wonders is most wonderous What are we Lord or what our Fathers House we Sons of wretched Men that Gods deere Senne Doth in such loue and mercie visit vs as through Death to re-make vs quite vndone If in the ballance of thy Sanctuary thou weigh our body t' will be found more light Than Vanitie more graue then Misery as if It did consist in Natures spight And if our Conuersation thou respect what is it but a Chaos of Offence The Goodnesse of whose All is all Defect whose very Souâ—'s but Hell of Conscience Dost thou ô God then for such Diuels die the Sonnes of Sathan most oppos'd to thee For the Subuerters of all Honestie for breakers of good Lawes that blessed be For thy Contemners for thy Gloryes Clouds for thy Deprauers for the worst of Ils For meere cuâ—st Thwarts of all Beatitudes for thy Tormentors that thy Soule would kill Whose Hearts no gifts can once allure to loue much lesse with Menaces are terrifide Nor mou'd with heauy Plagues that Rockes would moue nor yet with sweet'st Indulgence mollifide For Fiends who not suffic'd with their owne vice the Earth doe compasse so to compasse more And not contented others to intice diue to the Diuels to augment their store Where robbing those Egyptians of their wealth to weet Pride Enuy Malice blasphemie Away they steale so all they doe by stealth to make them Idols for their Fantasie Who when they haue rak'â— Hell for eu'ry Euill and got as much as Hell can hold or yeeld They then deuise themselues worse then the Diuel new kindes of sinnes that Hell yet neuer held Adding thereto obduracie of Heart and doe their Conscience more then cauterize Pleasing themselues like Fiends in others smart and for that end doe many meanes deuise Are these deare Lord the things for which thou the things I say for no Name is so ill As they deserue What onely must the Highest diest dye for vile Vipers that their Maker kill My Heart doth faile my Spirit is extinct when thus I weigh thy Mercies with my Sinne And wert not for thy graces meere instinct I should despaire deare Lord and dye therein Yet sith I haue begun to speake to thee O be not angry if I yet doe speake Let Dust and Ashes once so saucie be to aske their God what He hereby doth seeke Seek'st thou the loue of such meere Lumps of Hate or else the seruice of such Vermine vile Alas great Lord it stands not with thy State sith where they come by nature they defile If thy desire of Marriage did so burne that Thou thy Creatures would'st needes espouse Why then did Seraphins not serue thy turne that are more Noble and thee better vse Why of a prepuce Nation took'st a Wife which afterwards did Thee betray and kill So marriedst as it were the very Knife that cut thy throate so seem'dst thy selfe to spill What answer'st Lord to these too high Demands I would haue this because I would have this This is thine Answere and the reason stands vpon thy Will which cannot will amisse Then be it Lord according to thy Will for so it muâ—â— be be it how so ere By life or death then let me It fulfill that dost by both thee so to mee endeere For since Mans fall none passe to Paradise but by the dreadfull burning Cherubins To Canaan none but by where Marah lies sith there th' inheritance of ioy begins And none vnto the happy Citie goes that goes not by the Babel-Riuers side And none Ierusalem or sees or knowes that through the vale of Teares nor goe â—orride The way to Heau'n is by the Gates of Hell and Wormwood-wine thogh bitter wholsome is Thy Crosse ô Christ doth Heau'ns strong 〈◊〉 compell to open wide for t is the Key of blisse And sith for me so well thou loud'st that Crosse Let me for thee count all things else but losse A Thanksgiuing for our Vocation WIth all the pow'r and vertues of my Soule I doe adore thee holy Lord of All That when I had no name in thy check-rowle thou wrat'st it on thy Palme and me didst call I dwelt sometimes in blacke Obliuions Land where in the shade of Death I sadly sate But thou kind Lord didst reach me then thy hand which from thence drew me to a glorious state When as I wandred in the crooked wayes that too directly led to endlesse paine Thou didst thy forces then against me raise to put me in thy
O let her be repos'd none outherwise then as they fashion her To harbor Thee that 's make her well dispos'd els let her rest be restlesse euer there My Sonne saith thou deare Lord giue me thy heart ô small request my Heart Lord what is it But one poore bit of wormes-meate can no Part of me delight thee but so vile a bit Why thou didst wholy giue thy selfe to me shall I returne thee then but that alone O t is sweet Sauiour most vnworthy Thee for which thou know'st it's meekly wo-begon Yet gladly would I giue it but it is so small vncleane vnquiet and accurst That I doe feare to giue it so amisse sith of all gifts it 's worser than the worst Yet take it Lord of Loue it is thine owne how e'er I haue abus'd it make it such As thou wouldst haue it let it still be knowne fit for thy Stampe vpon thy Trials Touch. O glorious King what grace is 't to our Hearts to be accepted and desir'd of thee Then take my Heart yea all mine other parts for they are safe in thee but lost in me And is this all thy gaine ô kindest Lord and is this all our gift one wretched Heart And for the same dost thou thy selfe afford then take it to thee Lord through ioy or smart For nothing can I giue thee but the same augments my gaine and glory endlesly Then take it wholy set me all on flame to melt me into thee by Charitie For were my Heart as great as is the Heau'n that all includes and that past price it were It should to thee desiring it be giu'n sith I haue thee for it who hast no Peere Then World be silent call it not againe Flesh be as still permit it still to goe And Diuell striue not for it is in vaine my God will haue it then it shall be so Vade vade for all you cannot fill my Heart my God alone can doe it and He must Haue it to fill then from me all depart that seeke to fill it but with winde or dust And sole Sufficer chaine it still to Thee with Adamantine Linckes of endlesse Loue That through those Straites which thou hast past for me it may be drawne to thee if slow it moue Let it attend thee to the Iudgement-Hall where thou wast doom'd to death and to the Hill Whereon thou suffer'dst let it taste thy Gall and on thy Crosse let it be fixed still That be'ing with thee thus plagu'd disgrac'd slaine It may with thee be rais'd and crown'd and raigne A soueraigne Salue against Sinne and Despaire out of S. Augustine DEare Lord when sinfull thoughts doe me assaile to thy deare Wounds then let me hye with speed When burning lust against my thoughts preuaile quench it by minding me how long they bleede In all Extreames I finde no Meane so good as thy wide Wounds to keepe my Soule still whole They cannot dye that drown'd are in thy bloud for that is Aqua vitae to the Soule Thy Death is my desert then doe I not lacke merits sith thy Death destroyes my Sinne Thy Mercy is my merit and my Lot is glories Crowne through my firme hope therein For if thy grace be great then is it cleare my glory shall be great and the more pow'r Thou hast to saue the lesse I ruine feare for Grace abounding makes Loues hope secure Yet I acknowledge mine iniquities and Conscience with her thousand Witnesses Accuse me of extreame impieties yet will I hope of mercy ne'erthelesse For where Sinne hath abounded there hath grace abounded more so loue enflaming in The grieu'd delinquent who doth enterlace sweete teares of Ioy with bitter Teares for Sinne. For who dispaires God vtterly denyes deny his Attributes himselfe deny His Iustice we prouoke his mercies rise but from him selfe who is selfe Clemencie Then let my thoughts still murmure while they will and aske why such a Sinner grace should seeke Yet in firme hope I will continue still sith he hath promised that cannot breake Who can doe what he will and he will doe what he hath sworne which is he will make whole The broken Heart for sinne and grace it too yea help contrition in the willing Soule My Sinnes though great then me no whit dismay when his deare Death I minde for all my Crimes Can ne'er o'er-match his Mercies if I pray for grace to hope in his sure help betimes His Thorny Crowne and Naylâ—s that him transpierc'd assures my hope that He and I are One Which haue his Iudgemeuts gainst my sinnes reuerst if I but grieue for what I haue misdone Longius hath clear'd the sad coast to his Heart with his fell Speare that kinde to me made way There rest I now in Ioy and ioyfull smart of safety sure while there in hope I stay Vpon the Crosse he doth his Armes extend t' embrace the Contrite then betweene those armes Deuoutly will I throw me till mine end so safe I shall be there from foes and harmes He bow'd his Head before Death brake his Heart to kisse his Louers with the kisse of Peace Then still I le kisse him so shall I depart in peace to him that is my Sinnes release Sweet Christ embrace me then and kisse me till I dye to liue to clip and kisse thee still The crazed Soule being almost in dispaire desireth Grace to hope in Gods mercy LOrd in thy Loue let me be none of them that loue but in a Calme a time beleeue But when a Storme ariseth doe blaspheme and with infernall S'prits thy Sp'rit doe grieue Thus what I need I craue but what I feare thou know'st deare Lord I feare I am too bold To seeke thy loue because I doe appeare no correspondence with thy loue to hold For he that merits hate Lord how can he straight looke for loue who hath shame deseru'd Seeke for immortall glory or to be from shame and paine which he deserues preseru'd He moueth but his Iudge to iustest wrath that being faulty lookes he him should cleare Without meete satisfaction for the scath which he hath done all these my hopes doe feare For he that is to shame and death condemn'd small reason hath to looke for high'st respect If but his death by grace might be redeem'd in sense it should be all he could expect But why ô why doe I now call to minde what I haue done to make my feares more rife Death I deserue yet seeke I life to finde that liue but to offend the Lord of life Can I still vexe my Iudge yet looke for grace and still prouoke my King yet seeke his loue Nay still but buffet my sweete Iesus face and yet expect he should my Iesus proue Alas how should he much lesse how can I such fauour seeke that so his Fauour wrongs Can wrong expect such right in equitie ô no for vengeance to the same belongs Vengeance belongs to wrongs so great so plaine as so to wrong a MAIESTIE so
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
procures the Fathers loue and grace and so gets glory by such gracelesse scarres So God desirous more to haue vs kinde than comely Children thrusts vs in his Warres As we were but to fire and sword assign'd He takes more pleasure in the great'st annoyes We haue for him then in our ghostly ioyes Each Danger for our Mistresse vnder-tane seemes most secure and pleasant deadli'st paine The Wounds both for from her though but bane seeme honied-sweet and losse for her is gaine The colours that she likes we most doe loue her words meere Oracles her spot no staine Her actions Patternes ours to shape and proue All her perfections past Superlatiues And imperfections least Diminutiues And shall we doe and thinke all this and more but for a shade of Beautie and endure Nothing for Beauties Substance nor adore the CREATOR but in the Creäture O! t is a shame that Reas'n should be so mad in men of minde for loue if it be true Will most affect what 's rarest to be had The Obiect of true Loue is greatest GOOD If lesse she loues it ill is vnderstood With our Soules Eye if Christ our peace be view'd true loue shall see a Soule-afflicting sight His head with bloud that thornes do broach imbrude his Eares with Blasphemies his Eyes with Spight His Mouth with gall his Members all with wounds his Heart with griefe and all in all vnright Yea so vnright as Iustice quite confounds Yet mans Ingratitude doth griue him more Then all these Plagues as manifold as sore And ô for whom doth he the same endure for Man begot in filth in darkenesse form'd With throwes brought forth brought forth most vnpure whose child-hood's but a dreame with pains enorm'd His youth but rage his man-hood ceaselesse fight his Age meere sicknesse all his life vnsure And worst of all his death is full of fright This this is he for whom Heau'ns God endures All shame and paine that paine and shame procures W' are no where safe where we may fall to sinne in Heau'n nor Paradise with men much lesse In Heau'n fell Angels Paradise within the first man fell throgh whom all men transgresse In the World Iudas from his Lord did fall so no place can defend from Wretchednesse But he that place confines and holds vp All For who from worse to better fals he may From better fall to worse without his stay If Crosses trauerse not our Comforts then we ought to crosse our selues as many did That were Men Angel-like or Gods with men who hardly liu'd in Dens and Deserts hid Fed little and slept lesse in Sacke-cloth clad to minde them that to mourne they here were bid So chose foâ—d place and suite as suites the sad To sing in Babilon being Abrahams Seede Is to forget our Bondage and our Creede Heau'n is our natiue Home our Canaan Earth's but the shade of Death or vale of Teares Then mirth in place of moaue but kils a man at point of Death hee 's mad that Musicke neares Therefore those Saints discreete sad â—obâ—r Soules reiected all that Sense to Life endeâ—râ—s And liue as buried quicke in â—aues likâ— Moâ—es Iâ— Weapons lâ—sâ—e doe wâ—und thâ—n sâ—arpeâ—t praise Lesâ—e huâ—ts lamenting then the Syrens â—ayes And as Men longing at Noone-day to see the Lamps of Heau'n descend into a Well As deepe as darke that so their sight may be the more contracted smallest Stars to tell So pious mâ—n that faine would fixe their Eyes still on the Stars the Saints in Heauen that dwell Descend in Earth to low'st Obscurities For to a louing Soule all labour 's sweet That tends although in Hell her Loue to meet Low is our Way but our Home most sublime if home we wouâ—d thâ—n this low Way is best Which yet growes steepe â—omewhere and hard to climbe yet Loue o'ercomes it eternall Rest Vaine pleasures are like Gold throwne in our Way and while to gather it we stoupe at least It let 's vs and our Iudgements doth betray But if on Heau'n our mindes be altogether Nothing shall let our Bodyes going thither Which way goe you saith Christ to those that stray I am the WAY and whither will you wend I am the TRVTH or else where will you stay I am the LIFE that is your Iournyes end Now if this Way doe lead o'er steepes and plaines If this Truth teach vs rising to descend If this Life be not got but with our paines Then wo to them that laugh sith weepe should al And blessed they that weepe for laugh they shall We should be therefore like th' Egytian Dogs that drinke of Nilus running lest they should By staying much to drinke like greedy Hogs the Crocodile might haue them so in hold Nature doth teach them reas'nlesse what to doe then shall not grace worke much more manifold With humane Creatures that diuine are too It should then we are mad or reason lacke to quench our thirst of hauing with our wracke What is 't to haue much more than Nature needes but to haue more then Nature well can beare Like one that 's deadly drunke or ouer-feedes whose excesse makes his Death excessiue cheare Enough then should be better then a feast sith more is mortall howsoeuer deare For Nature cannot well so much digest Much lesse then little onely makes her grutch Enough maintaines her better than too much Besides in vs Sinne is more odious growne then in the Diuell for his was but one sinne Ours numberlesse his yer Reuenge was knowne ours when we knew it and might fauor winne In Innocence created sinned he but we when to 't we had restored bin In malice he of God forsooke but we when GOD recall'd vs to his sauing Grace He damn'd we sau'd yet were in worser Case For we were sau'd in possibilitie but he condemn'd so could not saued be He sinn'd gainst one that him did straitly tye but we worse fâ—ends gainst one that made vs free Against one he that doom'd him second-death but we gainst one that dide for vs so he Sinn'd lesse than we which Hope quite banisheth Did not the time we liue in stirre vs thrals To call for Grace that comes if griefe but cals He that of Sinne doth know the large extent and Hell of Hels the Soule incurres thereby Shall little feele his Bodyes punishment though he in life a thousand dâ—athes should dye Which borne with Patience for his Sauiours loue quite abrogate his pass'd impietie And future sinnes and paines from him doth shoue Immortall paines extreame in qualitie Annihilate all mortals quantitie Our Faith in the beginning thinne was sowne in the afflicti'on shame and death of Christ And then with Martyrs Bloud t' was ouer-flowne nor can it grow or prosper to the high'st Without showres ceaslesse gushing from their wounds then what art thou that soone thy Faith deni'st For feare of death that but thy Iudge confounds O! I am he the frail'st of flesh and bloud That liues for ill and
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
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
beatitude and prostitute my Soule to foule Offence That I should carelesly his Loue neglect that is the beaming beauty of thy State And woo the vgly Diuell in effect thy sacred Image to adulterate This doth exceede all wonderments excesse this Prodigie is more then monsterous That any Soule should loue meere vglinesse before meere beauty more then glorious How can I thinke vpon thy boundlesse Loue and not pursue my selfe with endlesse Hate That for my sake didst hels of torments proue to pull me out of Hell and damned state And when I view my Bodies Edifice I finde so many of thy bounties there As might the Heart of Hate to Loue intice for in each haire-breadth of it they appeare Th' Arteries Sinewes Nerues Veynes Ligaments Heart Lungs Lights and in few the All in All Are thy Loue-tokens and kinde Complements that mak'st thy selfe throgh Lordly loue my thrall Wherein if I should still Philosophize I should finde matter still to praise thy name For this Mindes Organ yeelds such Harmonies as still in silence celebrate thy Fame This Wonder is the Worlds Epitomie a little World true abstract of the Great Yet greater then the Great in dignitie though that in quantitie be more compleate O! how should I to grace thy Grace be glad for that thou mad'st me not in deed or sight Blinde lame deafe epilepticke mute or mad but sound in Soule and Minde in Body right Yet Lord ô yet I want for nothing is brought from Not-being to a Being blest Immediately sith yet I am amisse but all things by degrees attaine their best For in the Worke of Nature Sense perceiues that first of all the Matter she prepares Then fits it to the Forme which it receiues but formes it not perhaps in many yeares Yet she doth not as lacking Pow'r or Art leaue ought imperfect which she takes in hand Yet out of hand she perfecteth no Part but that shee doth in time in Sea and Land Then thou that art her Soueragine canst thou lacke of her perfection in thy Workes begun Canst thou Almightie see Them goe to wracke or through neglect to leaue them halfe vndone Effects vnto their Causes onely looke that they from them Perfection may receiue Then of their Causes if they be forsooke they make a show but onely to deceiue Thou art my sole beginning and mine end then end that well which thou hast well begun Thou art my Cause then me th' Effect amend that I from grace to grace may euer runne Thine Eyes all-seeing see great Wants in me supply those wants deare Lord and let me want Nothing but wants that wanting are in thee sith what thou want'st to thee is discrepant Let no Blocke be more dull to apprehend that thou wouldst haue escape vntride then I Let my Wit for thy foolishnesse contend and let that Folly be my Wisedomes Eye Then in th' Egyptian darknesse of this life I shall behold the glory of thy Sonne And shape my course by him in Stormes of strife for all thy fooles doe striue to him to runne Then with that Protomartire shall I see the Canopie of Heau'n being op'ned wide The beaming beauty of the Trinitie that by none but such fooles can be espide Let me be wise in deed and not in show sith neuer shades haue substances begot And they know nothing as they ought to know that know not they are fooles that know thee not The Foole hath said in heart No God there is so saith he sith he knowes not otherwise Then Truth and Wisedome cals him Foole for this because true Wisedome in this Knowledge lies The Pagan-wisedome though it knew what not that was beneath the Circuit of the Sunne Yet was that wisedome fondly ouer-shot sith all was vaine It knew when all was done For vnder Heau'n as saith thy sacred Truth remaineth nought that is not more then vaine What wisedome then from knowing it ensu'th but such as Fooles by knowing Bables gaine Then let the World still make a Foole of mee So I may onely know my selfe and Thee A Thankesgiuing for our Being LEst Thankelesnesse should close thy Bounties hand which it alone kind Lord hath pow'r to do And sith thou giuest what thou dost command if we but stretch our Good-wils hand thereto Kinde lib'rall Lord giue me an able will to thanke thee for thy gifts that by one gift I may be gratefull for another still which is of Willing-want the onely shift I thanke thee then not onely for my Being being as I am the liuely forme of thee But for that thy high Prouidence all-seeing doth striue to make me euer better Bee For should thy hand be but a moment clos'd I should to nought resolue as once I was For thou my time of moments hast compos'd the last of which I cannot ouer-passe Then looke how many moments I exist so many blessings dost thou giue to mee Preuenting me with others ere I wist that so my Being might right blessed be From my Conception to Natiuitie thou keptst me saf◠thogh strait kept in the womb My Mothers Bowels might haue strangled me but that thy Mercies hand still made me roome Wherein I felt ere I could feele or see the blessings of thy tender Prouidence And lest I should perhaps abortiue be thou gau'st me there full nine Months residence Where how thou fedd'st me by the Navle-string I may admire but ne'er the same expresse And how thou didst my Parts together bring confus'd in slime it is no wonder lesse The longings of my Mothers appetite her food feares griefes fals and such accidents Might haue enforc'd her ere my Frame was pight eft to diffuse me in the Elements For when I was an Embrio but a thought might haue redrown'd me in Not-beings Pit But then thou thoughtst on me and so hast wrought that Danger from her Mouth me safe did spit How happily-vnhappy had I bin to be made Man in possibilitie And marr'd eu'n as my making did begin so straight to finde and lose Humanitie That which we neuer had we neuer lost therefore for losse of that we cannot grieue But rare things had to lose doth grieue vs most for better still dead then but now to liue Then to be borne within no Pagan Clyme addes no small waight to this great Benefit But come of Christians in good place and time and am a Christian much more maketh it And am a Christian ô that so I were as I am nam'd and still desire to b◠That I might say I am and so appeare sith but to seeme good is too bad with thee For thou great GOOD that call'st thy selfe I AM dost loue I am not was nor yet will be Then let me say I am in deede and name thy Seruant that but liues to honour thee For sith I haue such Beeing let me be such as I AM not as I am that is Such as Thou art most perfect Pietie for thou art wast and euer wilt-be this Besides thou hast and dost preserue
or else of good depriu'd so both accurst And if my best be nought but cloaked sinne what are my worst but worse than what is worst Not for committing odious sinnes in act but for omitting deedes of Charitie Which Iustice at her Iudgement will exact the Reprobate are damn'd and so may I For t is but halfe the duty of my whole to doe no ill but still I good should doe With all the care and forces of my Soule else ill I may be doom'd and damned too God gaue me life but for his Seruice than I must account how I each moment spend And sinn'd I not yet sith I am a Man that doth no good it 's damned in the end And were my deeds vnited and withall clear'd from pollution and from all defect Yet are they nought to gifts meere corporall which I haue had and yet haue in effect So that too like an idle beast I am that still deuoureth more then he doth earne And lookes for food ere he deserues the same nor doth the giuers gifts from Fates discerne O! out vpon me most vngratefull beast abusing Reason as if I had it not What shall I say deare Lord I must at least confesse I haue thy goodnesse most forgot O! with what Marble Eyes or flintie Front shall I the glory of thy presence brooke Who art both Iudge of me to take account and Witnesse too as witnesse will thy Booke And yet alas lesse pow'r I haue to shunne thy presence then haue heart the same t' abide For thou art all in All then can I runne from thee when thou dost compasse all beside Yet haue I bin but in Ciuilitie more loath t' offend my meanest mortall Friend Then in good Conscience so great maiestie that filleth All and All doth comprehend And haue I shame to say 't more sham'd to sinne in sight of men then in thy dread aspect My Soule is blinde so saw thee not within and mortall Eyes but mortall things respect And for the Graces which thou gau'st to mee to glorifie the Giuer I vile wretch Haue to my selfe the glory tane from thee so with thy gifts I doe thee still impeach I haue not lou'd thee for thy mercy nor haue fear'd thee for thy Iustice yea thy might Though most almighty I did most abhorre when it in Iustice on me wretch did light Thou hast to me reueal'd thy Will but looke how often I haue glost it with mine owne Were it within or else without thy Booke so oft hath thine by mine bin ouerthrowne And if I reckon right betweene thy Law and mine obseruance though I feare thy Rod I must confesse neere Dauids foole I draw that said in Soule at least There is no God I haue obserued nought but what my sense depraued sense being Ill did hold for good Which Ill with all the Stormes of foule Offence still wrought vpon the Current of my Bloud Mine Eyes are sharpe as eager still to pry into mens worst parts rather than their best And wrench that little much that is awry and what 's most right to make it lesse at least Apt to detract from others and exact praise to my selfe from others this is it That makes me enuy eu'ry witty Tract vnlesse it be composed by my Wit As apt most apt to giue as take offence hard to be pleas'd displeas'd too easily As prompt to Choler as to violence but fearing death yet desperate prest to dye In reasoning rash and yet soone rudely round to compasse Faith to falshood soone thereby And where Truth stands to throw her on her ground in beastly rage vntill shee seeme to lye False in Humilitie and true in pride in iesting rough and rash in censuring To gouerne I haue made my Heart too wide t' obey too straite through griefes straite gouerning More then the Mount Vesuuius haue I burn'd in vaine Ambitions euer-raging flame And all good gifts and graces haue I turn'd to Fewell burning in desire of fame Thou gau'st me gifts where of the praise I sought so robb'd thee Lord of glory and with speede I wages seeke for that which thou hast wrought for for thy Workes in me I looke for meede More proud than Lucifer the Fount of Pride for he being glorious mac'e might soone o'erweene But I being bred of but Slime-putrifide vsurpt thy praise so much more proud haue beene Wherein if thou hast crost me I haue storm'd worse than that Hell-hound for he fell to Hell Then easily might fume being so enorm'd but I on Earth at ease against thee swell The lightest pleasures make me lighter doate but easiest paines doe presse me downe to death If Fates but smile in pleasures Seas I floate and if but frowne it eu'n expires my breath I foulest Vices vnder vertuous Names doe patronize as extreame Crueltie For vpright Iustice Loue of lightest Dames for perfect Zeale Selfe-â—oue for Charitie Craft for true Wisedome Pride for Cleanlinesse Basenesse for Meeknesse Doubt for Holy Feare Meere Cowardize for discreet Warinesse Râ—shnâ—sse for Manhood Couetize for Care And so of others in none other sort I vaunt their vice with vertuous tearmes inuolu'd And haue an eye but onely to Report while I but right to seeme am wrong resolu'd All good Instructions fall into my Soule as Aprill-showres into the Sea doe fall Whose swelling surges doe their drops controule and euer turne their sweetnesse into Gall. When I haue beene reprou'd for ought vnright I would deny excuse or it defend Or else reproch my iust reprouers straight and so without offence would faine offend If I haue vow'd deuotion and withall haue taskt my selfe with holy Exercise I soone infring'd it were it ne'er so small so loath'd I Manna Leekes to gurmandize And looke how one that taketh fire in hand but out of hand straight thowes it cannot hold The heate thereof so I doe vnderstand but small effect of Prayer made so cold As Cates vnchewed haue they past from me without concoction not without annoy For when I thinke they went away so free my Soule is sicke with griefe and grieu'd with ioy Thus lose I still my time in going on and comming off from eu'ry good attempt So purpose without prosecution leaues my best actions idle in contempt With but beginnings haue I worne my dayes and oft haue fail'd but in the meere assay Yet for but failing haue I lookt for praise ô shame sith I good motions did obey I likewise haue beene light in my Dsiere now this now that and then the other face Sparkes of thy beauty set my Heart on fire with Beauties grace to sinne for want of grace So could not walke abroad but that anon my wandring sight would giue thy sight offence For eu'ry sparkling Eye mine lighted on through mine straight kindled my Concupiscence For this too oft I haue abus'd the Muse thou gau'st me but to woo thee for thy Loue But I lewde Louer did her Measures vse to mete fraile motions strongly so to moue Thus Beauty
it selfe to them made Sugar-sweet Then what but Gall it selfe will Honey seeke besides the Honey of thy sweetest Loue For who are more exalted then the meeke sith Heau'n and Earth of them doe most approue Then if thou make me meeke thou mak'st me more Then Heau'n and Earth for both will me adore For perfect Vnion with God and Grace to shunne all Lets that may hinder it WHen I sweet Sauiour minde the Orison thou mad'st thy Maundy-night with strong effect When as thou praid'st for perfect vnion betweene thy Father thee and thine elect I am thereby encouraged to pray that in that Vnion though too base I be I may b'included if so be I may being so vile so inward be with thee Which can be hardly if at all it can without my Soule forsake the Flesh and Fiend And all besides thee be it Angell Man or what soe'er for Thee her onely END But this shee cannot doe without thy Grace thy grace preuenting and assisting both Then grace her so that she may thee embrace and in respect of thee all others lothe By that deare vnexampled Loue that made thee hang all naked on the Crosse vouchsafe That I may liue with thee as nought I had besides though I the World besides should haue And if it may be Lord ô let me liue without the least Sinne for the least that is Doth let our Vnion and doth euer striue to seuer me for euer from thy Blisse Then grant that I my body so may keepe from all transgrâ—ssing that I may not moue One Ioynt t'vnioyne vs but my Soule to sweepe from all Pollution that doth let thy Loue. That from offending it may be as cleare as it was made by thee in Thee to rest And though she cannot be so perfect here yet make Her still desire the same at least Yea make me will no Ioy for that is none that is not in thee and the Bread I eate Let it no more delight me than a Stone but onely but to serue Thee take my meate And when my Palate proues some Foode too sweet then let me thinke how much more sweet thou art That mad'st it such so make me make it meete to make me taste thy Sweetnesse in my Heart So let me vse all Creatures pleasing Sense to send me to Thee Cause of that Effect So in them still taste but thine Excellence and by them still the more the same affect Yea let no Sweet of whatsoeuer kinde that 's but created once my Soule allure From thee sweet Lord or from continuall minde of thy deare Sweetnesse that all Sweetes procures But Loue and Meeknesse are the onely two to mâ—ke vs one â—eare Sweet that diuers be Then let high'st Loue and lowest Meeknesse too make one of twâ— that 's one of thee and mee And meeke to make me let me euer minde I am nought haue nought know nought nought can do And nought desire nor seâ—ke but Grace to finde to loue thee highly and be lowly too Then make me rich in Soule and poore in spirit rich in good deeds and yet most poore in thought When I doe best to weene I worst doe merâ—â— and when most good to thinke I am most nought So by the By-path that but Fooles doe finde of true Simplicitie that 's iust and free To runne to Thee and leaue the World behinde to thinke me mad for running so to Thee But let me so be still besides my selfe and still besides the Way the World doth roame Though it with Flowers be strowde and pau'd 〈…〉 yet set me flie it in my hying home The Heau'n-rapt Saint was so himselfe beside for hee all eartly Dainties held as Doung And while as mad the most did him deride he went to Thee a narrow way and long Nay thou thy selfe dear Lord that all dost schoole because thou didst elect this Way to goe And that reiect attir'd wast like a Foole and so esteem'd then let me foole it so But hide my life in thee so shall I liue a light to all that walke in wayward moode For them thou hid'st that good example giue from eu'ry Ill then let me giue this good But when I giue it let me thinke I giue the good thou gau'st for all good gifts are thine So shall I rightly thinke while â—o I liue and all the praise thereof to thee resigne So let me doe and thinke so shall I gaine True Vnitie with thee in Ioy and Paine The Sinner in great sorrow for Sinne relyeth on God for grace and comfort ON thy help Lord I relye then poore I Perish must if thou restraine it O then stretch thy helping-hand or command That I may with speede obtaine it For as one forgotten quite out of sight I forlorne in sorrow languish Help ô help me then with speede for I feed As on Bread on nought but Anguish If I sinne I sigh therefore and deplore That I haue in ought offended Yea my Soule doth waste with woe sith I know Sinne doth marre what Thâ—â—s hast mended Faine I would then cease to sinne and beginne Now to liue as thou hast willed But if by Thee that didst fire that desire It be not of me fulfilled I at best but well shall will doing ill Then I shall for it be vexed So shall I but sinne and grieue while I liue And in Conscience be perplexed It is tedious to my Sp'rit day and night Thus to sinne then pine in passion For being staid yet still to fall is no small Signe of death or reprobation Help then help me Lord lest I doubtfull dye Make my sorrowes passe my sinning That I may so cease to sinne so to winne Better end then my beginning For in sinne conceiu'd I was so alas Sinnefull am sith so conceiued Then of force sith I am such doe not grutch I should be to Grace receiued With more griefe my Sinne I wound than I found Pleasure in the sinne committing O then let my sorrowes still sinning kill While thy Graces vs be knitting Blessed God then make me grieue while I liue For my grieuing thee so blessed Let my Teares still quench the fire of thine Ire Till I be of Grace possessed So shall I to shunne thy wrath tread the Path Of thy Biddings till my dying Or on winges of Loues desire still aspire To thee then ô take me flying The Sinner acknowledging repugnant desires in himselfe desireth to be enabled to performe his good desires I Would be thine and I would haue thee mine deare Lord and yet I crosse mine owne desires For still I sinne then cannot I be thine yet faine I would with thee be still entire Then I desire what my desires resist ô strange repugnance would I thee enioy And yet in that which seuers vs persist then my desires doe my desires destroy True Lord how euer false this seemes to be it false but seemes but it 's too true herein For my poore Soule would nothing more then thee and yet my Soule doth
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
yet so much as smiled on me No force sith I my selfe the better know and see the World while me it doth not see Feare they her frowns that care but for her fawnes I feare nor care for neyther being white With Cares and Feares for my Graue open yawnes to swallow me to saue me from her spight Enough great Lord my Proheme is a Feast whereat my Muse doth surfet with sowre-sweetes Hard to receiue and harder to digest where loue and rashnesse Rime and Reason meetes But if they meet with Griefe that meets with thee I grieue with ioy for thou art fast and free A Dumpe or Swans-song ALl in a gloomy shade of Sicamour that did his leaues extend like Shields to beare The Beames of Phebus darted in his pow'r at those that vnderneath them shrowded were I me reposed while my Thoughts did range here there eu'ry wher wher thoghts might roame So by their change at last my latest change became their Subiect with my latest Home And when with Trauell they themselues had tyr'd I likewise tir'd with life that stirr'd them too Thus flasht I out with sacred fury fir'd and my thoughts Bottome thus did I vndoe Why long I longer here to liue in death for life if mortall dyeth all the while Be'ing but a puffe but of the weakest Breath yet blowes me Weakenesse into strong Exile As soone as borne was I condemn'd to dye since when Time hath but executed me Yet life prolongs in dying misery so yet I am as those that dying be To him that gaue me life a death I owe which sith I can I must and shall repay His Powr's as great to take as to bestow then will I pay him though I quite decay I dead in Sinne his onely Sonne he slew to please his Iustice and to make me liue Sith me he bought I le giue him then his due which had I haue much more then that I giue Death soone will rid me from this lifes annoyes Annoyes that nought can rid saue death from life And put me in possession of those Ioyes that are as farre from end as free from strife And wer 't not madnesse to repine that I had not had life when Eue did Adam wiue Then t is but all alike to liue and dye as t is Not to haue liu'd and not to liue Then life IS not that not immortall is for mortall life is but Deaths other name Nor is that Blisse that is not fearelesse Blisse nor glory that is subiect still to shame The Dayes of Heau'n are datelesse sith the Sunne that makes them such doth neither set nor rise But stands as it shall doth and still hath done fixt in the Noone-stead of ETERNITIES Here one 's the ruine of another Day while like a ne'er-suffized Graue the Night Doth bury both in silence yet doth prey vpon them both till both play least in sight Death is the dore of life so would I liue then through this dore to life I needes must goe For through this dore Death LIFE it selfe did driue then sith LIFE dide for life I must doe so Two onely had the priuiledge to wend another way to life that mortals were But t was in firy Charets to this end that Fire should flesh refine yer it came there There where all ioyes vnited are of force for force vnited stronger makes the same The spirit and flesh both rauisht to diuorce and melt their pow'rs in loues eternall flame What Lets shall let me then from Paradise Mountaines of Gold and Rockes of rarest stone Crossing my Way I trampling will dispise if thither Hope but goe with me alone This WORLD 's a Vale that ceaseles teares do spoile and make it so a Bog or lothsome Lake Then who but Swine that pleasure take in Soile will here if they can choose abiding make Heau'n is my Home the HIGH'ST my Father is his SONNE my Brother Angels are my Friends Then while from Them I am I am amisse and lightly misse the Meanes to so good Ends. My Body 's but the Prison of my Soule which straits her more the more that Prison's free Time 's but the Rocke that vp my Life doth rowle and Earth the Place where Heau'n spinnes it me Here must I fight till Death for endlesse Life The Chariot of my Triumph then is Death Then as I would be free from endlesse strife to mount this Chariot I must spend my Breath The ground whereon I tread's the ground of Grieâ—e so that each step doth grieue me for it is A Sanguine-field that beareth Hurts in chiefe crost with sinister-bends and All amisse Then here to bee amisse is to be borne in Dolors Field to eu'ry foule Disgrace O Death then help my Soules house to adorne and let thine Armes be mine for lifes are base Am I not durt and dust then maruell is 't if I but with a thought be that or this A shadow by some substance doth subsist but all my substance but a shadow is The Sunne doth rise and set the Moone doth hold a constant course in most vnconstant state The Earth now quick with heate then dead with cold doth shew their plight that It preambulate Then ô yee Saints whose Bellies being rife with Waters both of life and grace be yee Pure Aquaducts by life to bring me life from the Well-head that fill may you and mee The Graue though wide it gape dismayes me not sith t is the Gate of glory rest and peace And though therein my mortall Part must rot yet thence it springs with much more faire encrease If the last breath we call our Bodyes death then may we call the other Breathings deaths Sith Life and death doe come and goe with Breath we haue as many deaths as we haue breaths Yet twixt this life and that we death doe call this ods there is while life doth last we dye But when Death comes we die no more but shall by dying well liue well immortally O then looke how the Labourer for Night the Pilot for the Port and for the Inne The Poast doth long so doth my tired spright by death still long for Life and rest therein Death is my Hope than feare not I his knife Feare is his Sting but Hope hath puld it out The mortall'st Wounds immortall make my life then better dye in Hope then liue in Doubt If Death be painfull then is paine sustain'd before or at the Article of Death But not before for then but thought is pain'd and at the instant it 's but rest of breath So that in Death is rest without disease then Death be kinde and rest my life in thee While others that doe cast such summes as these these Cyphers summe decyph'ring thee and mee And Cyphers cast lifes Cyphers to and fro that I their number seene may multiply Take nought from Nought nought remaines so the summe of All is lesse then vanitie Cyphers not Numbers call I them because they runne sans number roundly
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— self-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