therfore And so he kist the Crosse and said no more With that my heart exulted in my breast As faire presaging weale vnto my woe For why I was not vulgarlie distrest But for a cause that bore an honest showe Yet for my frailtie was impatient I long'd for speedy death or solagement Then stept I to that man of Mysteries With carefull Complement least to offend When he eftsoons with reuerend arise Did recomplie me like a perfect friend The teares of joy that trill'd adowne his chin Did sweare what true affection was within And lastly he thus embracingly bespake me Welcome Elizian-man a thousand-fold More deere and shone to Catechrysius eye Then all the pleasant pride of Pearle or Gold Rare yea all too rare are now adayes Elizas subjectes seen to passe this wayes Belike yee are a Paradized people That so contain your selfes in home-delights As though that only vnder your steeple And no wher els were all May-mery Rights A blessed people ye are if it be so And yet me thinkes thou seem'st a man of woe Wherto I answered all with humble thanks First that I was the man he tooke me for Bred and brought vp on fayre Elizas bankes Next did I largely shew him furthermore How blessedly we liue as hee had heard Vnder Elizas peacefull power and guard And as for my peculiar distresse I tolde him so I seem'd and so I was The Rag of Fortune Badge of base deblesse The Spunge of care a broken Hower-glasse The Finger-man of shame and Obloquie Downly degraded from Felicitie I told him of my dreary iournement On moodie Melancholie and how I sped With Cato and Reuenges babblement And how along the Desart as I fled I met with Good Desire a goodly Steed That brought me thether in my ghostly need I would haue told him more of my arange Euen all the verie conscience of my case The cause of such my reprobate exchange From blesse to bale how froÌ„ place to place Bowndâ—esse in care I rang'd to bownd my Fate Content to die but not die desperate But he eftsoones preuented me and said Oh happie thou if so thou knew'st thy hap I tell thee man thou art right â—aire apaid Exil'd from Mammon into Iesus lap Come sit we downe and I will shew thee how In this distresse thou mayst nor breake nor bow So downe we sate my heart was festiuall My care was eager-liquorish to embaite Good Catechrysius his Cordiall Who then with eies to heauen eleuate And crosse-laid armes did vow syncerely All loue and truth in what he meant to shew me And then quoth he deare Englishman suppose Me not vnciuill t' interrupt thy tale For in our Lord I well aread thy woes And Charitie hies me to recure them all Now all is but the action of the Mind That rectifi'd the rest is all but wind Know then thow art no better then a man Natur'd indifferently to weale or woe Who ere he be that 's borne of a woman Is first just nothing next an Embrio Then borne into the world in impotence Poore interest to future Excellence Nay borne in sable sinne to Gods offence Nipt in the blossome by the blast of Hell Spur-gall'd of Adam both in soule and sence And hodge podged between a man Deuel A fardle of frailties doom'd vnto damnation So sore we haue incurr'd Gods indignation If these be titles of felicitie Ah poore felicitie vnpleasant Pride Rooted in hell brancht in mortalitie And round imbark'd with sin on euerie side Nor are we thus disgrac'd but of our selfes For first we eate the Apple of all these helles We might haue chosen in Adams Libertie Whether t' haue eate that Apple yea or no But needs we would aduenture And wot you why Forsooth of Pride both good and bad to know So slunke from vs the glorie and grace of God Leauing vs quite to our selfe breeching-rod Heerhence we couet counterfeit content Sublime mundanitie and our Fleshes ease Rating the trash of earth true solagement And euery toy of price our sence to please Such is our frailtie and yet we see it not So to subject vs to so seruile Lot And such the matter of thy discontent Because thou ouer-prizest Fleshes sence Rating the world at all too high a rent Wheras it is but dust and Gods offence The Mammon of iniquitie in Scripture phrase And but a meere Crocadyle-amaze Conceipt thy selfe no better then thou art A sorie Iourney-man from birth to death And all this world but matter of vndesart And a meere momentarie trash-bequeath Death doomes all Flesh at last and Flesh-affaires Be it Fleshes joyes or Fleshes seruile cares Blesse being the perfect Counterpane of good This world is not of worth to correspond it It being but trash ore-flowne with Frailties flood And deep indown'd from heauens fellowship Then vp to heauen amount thy true ambition And as for earth out-care it in contrition Not to dispaire and die as Cato told thee For that is base Pusillanimitie And Natures most vnhallowed infamie Treason to God and fell disloyaltie So to betray his Fort and Character To selfe-misdoome and drearie disaster We ought not cancell Gods eternall doome Vn-labelling our life from his faire Charter For such is diffidence in his holidoome And prowd in-officing vs in his affaire Nor can we kill Calamitie by death For he is just in earth and hell beneath Thou canst not flit from his almightie doome He being th' Arbiter of all and nothing Who gaue thee Essence out of Vacuum Can paine thy ashes all in earth reposing Well maist thou shift his anger into grace But not depriue thee from his heauenly face As vaine it is to thinke Reuenges deed Can counter-doome thy bale to blessednesse The power of Flesh being but a rotten reed And selfely inclined vnto all distresse Then since we are so wretched of our selfes Add worse to yll doth but encrease our helles Such is Reuenge It is a haggard yll A Luciferiall ranke vncharitie The venym and blacke Santus of our will Vnreasons rage spawne of Impietie Breath of Despaire Prime-brat of Enuies brood And all good Natures Satyr Antipode Reuenges arme rear'd vp against the Foe Aimes to defeat God of his interest Who clausually reseru'd that worke of woe Vnto his owne judiciall behest Thou art a man and once didst sucke thy mother Thou canst not judge thy selfe much lesse another And what know'st thou whether haply for thine owne Or for thy Predecessors sinnes thou sufferest God oft transfers his indignation From the offending East to th'ending West Or whether it be to trie thy patience And flush the more thy good obedience If it be for thy sinnes oh happy thou That art so temporally corrected Such is Gods mercy not his Iustice-blow A worser doome is to thy euill indebted For God being good in all infinitie Such is thy sinnes and hels affinitie And if for thy fore-fathers trespasses T' is braue to be so good a Sacrifice God earst to expiate thy amisses Being
a president before thine eies Of willing death wee are not borne only Vnto our selfes Suche is vncharitie The feeble Nature euen of Flesh and Blood Hath been so kind to die for Ancestrie Gentility records Eneas good In that he bore his aged fathers frailtie Through Troyes flames much more ought Charitie Beare patiently anothers penaltie But shall I say that haplie in this case Our Lord is pleas'd to trie thy patience Thy valure and obedience in disgrace Oh that were all-too glorious a pretence For well ye wot that Souldiour is a King That choycelie is employ'd in warfaring T' is Scowndrell-glorie still to sit at ease In gawdie satisfaction of thy sence Nay t' is no glorie at all but a disease That Canker-like consumes thine Innocence Now God being pleas'd to cure thee thereof Doth thus confound it all into a scoffe And yet confounds it so as thou maist see His Iustice and his Mercie ioind together Thy yll contrould to future dignitie So dooth the goodnesse of thy cause auerre If God did meane thy eternall infamie Worse passiue cause had foule befall'n thee Thou canst not haue a more assured pavvne Of Gods benignitie then a good cause It being vnto thy soule a sacred dawne Of heauens day and an especiall clause Or Charter-warrant of Saluation By a secure Conscience-attestation Not all the glorie of this world is worth The minnim Emphosis of a good Conscience The verie penall teares it sendeth foorth Are more then pearles of Indie-excellence Much more are they Emperiall dignities Her inward Ioyes and Iocundities Say that the Corpes of such a Conscience Lie all in mange before the Misers dore His name as hell held in the worlds offence Yet is he not vnfortunate therefore For heauen and he being still in good conjunction All that 's but vapor and no sound confusion Nay t' is to thee a haughtie merit-matter If brookt with patient valure to the end Which easely thou maist doe if thou consider That Iesus tempts thy patience as a friend Not in his rage aboue thy power and strength Whom he reprooues at first he saues at length And sooth to say what is Prosperitie That so should make thee abhor Aduersitie Euen Caesars loftie pomp and soucraigntie Is not by ods sincere felicitie Subiect to Care and Alteration Through Enuie Errour and Adulation How much adoe is done ere men attaine To wealth and glorie by Ambition Still carke and care shares halfe the seruile gaine The rest remaines to Deaths confusion T' is well if tart Synderisie and Hell Triumver not to towlle the passing-bell Care in attaining and care in attaine Care is the lower and the vpper staire Such carefull glorie is but glorious paine Yea care or care-lesse either all 's but aire Feast it in care or feast it carelesly Death is the latter Harpie of all glory Besides how many Villaines are aduanc'd To such theatricall and stagie-state Whilst Vertue lies obliuiously entranc'd Neglected and disdain'd as out of date Besides the multiplicitie of abuse That is in such mundanities mis-use Whereas the patient Sâ—rapin distresse Behonesteth his guikie suffrance And if he suffer for Gods righteousnesse Loe there the sumine of all true valliance Heauens Machabe he is that so downe-dies Guiltie of all glorie and Gods deere dainties Who heares his name a thousand yeeres hence Will giue it glorie praise and reuerence As to a Temples ruin-Monuments Rased in Sacrilege and Gods offence He will be-villaine those that did the deed As Scowndrell-Agents of Hells blacke areed We are not borne to Fortunes complements As soueraigne dainties but as Vertues tooles Wherwith to shape vs perfect lineaments Of honorable Manhood And not as Fooles To dote vpon the Pensill in our hand And not depaint vs like to Gods command Vertue 's the Ladie of our Humanitie And Fortune but the hand-maid of our merit Now were it homelied one to magnifie The meane aboue the maine T' were pettie sperit To slip our nettes into the Sea for water And pardon Fish as no part of the matter This life is but a warfare against sinne And either Fortune is but sinnes Coate-armour Be it bright or blacke great danger lies therein If thou resist not with a haughtie valour T' is witlesse yeelding to her gawdements And cowardiâ—e vnto her orearements What skils it whether we fight with blacke or white If blacke and white be both our enemies The one in guile tho'other in flat despight The Goblin-Bugs and Faery Hiedegies Are both the shades of hell and night-affrayes Encounter not assent quelles their dismayes And why are we the image of our God The Monarches ouer all Elementaries But to controwll with Reasons righteous rod All flesh and bloods fraile sensualities T' is sensualitie and pettie power To mal-content thee for a fading flower Stand thou on Reasons haughty Promontorie Superiour and secure ouer all disgrace Rage wind and waue horror round about thee Yet all is glorie and peace in that bright place Nor Death nor Hell can damnifie thy honer So long as Reasons arme beares vp thy banner Oh generous minded men that can esteeme All state inferiour to their mindes degree And not abandon it to base misdeeme Of any Fortunes power aboue her glee But can out-stare it with a quaint regard In reference to merite and Gods grand reward That can conceipt all Fortune as a Fog Bee 't black or bright all but a matter of aire If bright oh then it doth but flatter and cog If blacke it drowns thee with a flood of care Vnlesse thy mind be as a Sunne aboue it Faire ouer-shining all her mist-demerit Faire Fortune is a Bog a dauncing danger And Temperance must foot it with a modest pace Her frowne a gulfe that drownes the hartlesse stranger That cannot wend with Patience his disgrace Both that and it are mortuarie matter If fed vpon in Indiscretions platter Submit not then thy sacred Substantiue To Fortunes hestes but as thou art of Nature So still continue thy prerogatiue Aboue her blandishing and spightfull power So shone a Patrimonie as thy Mind Let neuer Fortune wast it out of kind Thou art no part of Fortune but thine owne Vertue thy fore-guide Heauen thy attaine Good death not loftie life thy best Renowne Contented mind thy glories after-gaine Without content all glorie is but gall And with content disgrace is festiuall Content's the Spunge of true felicitie The Cordiall against degraded blesse Corriuall to the highest Empirie The badge of Innocence and Righteousnesse Vertues enthrone Rent of a manlie mind To God for whatsoeuer state assign'd It is the Phaenix of fore-glories Embers Patience her wing Heauen is her amount It is the Christopher whose manly members Wasteth the miser-man through all affrount It is the true and perfect Salamander Breathing vitalitie in flames of fire Not so the Skowndrell in his greatest glorie For ther is no Content in guilt of euill A skowll down-looke and swart synderisie Betokening him a member of the Deuill
that Caesars haue And sooth to say wherin hath Iesus err'd Or not deseru'd such suffrance at thy hands Hath he not alwayes in his life preferr'd Disgrace and dole to rid thee out of bands Oh was not he the man the Lambe that dy'd To shew thee heauen in woe and not in pride He was Almightie to haue sau'd his head If he had pleas'd But for a president Of passiue Fortitude and Lamblihead He condiscended vnto woe and torment And did erect the Crosse a capitall Ensigne of honour and renowne to all And since what Saint did euer amount to blesse That hath not more or lesse been crucifi'd Either with selfe zeale-doome or by oppresse Of tyrannie by villaines hands inflicted The seed that must to flowery growth redound Must first lie dead and withered in the ground Besides oh what a monstrous thing it is To liue delitious vnder a thorney head Thy God to daigne to die for thy amisse And thou repine to be dishonored For Vertues sake Oh fond ingratitude So to permit thy Sence thy Soule delude If so the flesh the world the deuill could doe More spight vnto thy state then God can quayle Or that his grace could not transcend thy woe Be-cheering it with happie counteruayle Then might'st thou with a just repine detest To be by any fate of flesh opprest But God both can and will relieue his Plaintife That doth with just petitions inuoke him Selfe-louelesse and repinelesle at the griefe That from his soueraigne doome betides him The louing mothers teat is not so prone Vnto her Babe as Christ to his deere one So shew'd his Pellican-content to die To giue thee life the gore adowne his breast To wash away thy sin-impuritie His dolour was thy euerlasting rest His bitter wounds the euer open gates Of grace and glorie to thy rankest fates Loe he thy paines-appease true charter-warrant Of glorie after gall The bonnie bright Whose crimson rayes can faire propulse and daunt The dreadest Goblin of thy darkest night Be thou the man of duty to thy dole The rest let him alone for to controle Inshrine thy Patience in his Passion Thy Hope thy Constance in his after-boones To his entire irradiation Submit thy night-shades and decreased Moones He is the Sonne of Right and will appay All vertues anguor with a Hollie-day Behold his image yonder on the Crosse See how he droops and dies and damnes Reuenge Yeelding his whole humanity in grosse A pendular reproch on woodden henge Yea euen his Deitie he doth deject Vnto a seeming shadowed defect Be not a beast of desperation A moodie torment traitor to thy selfe T' is grosse conceipt and imperfection To ground thy Barke vpon thy owne shores shelfe Suffice it that extrinsecall aggriefe Abound sans that thou giue it home-reliefe Thinke that thy sinnes are greater then thy woe Thy worldly griefes but Graces happy rescue From greater helles that to thy sowle doe growe Or haply to enforce to manly vertue Thy youngling hestes of grace or to containe Thy present good from proouing after vaine Time and thy graue did first salute thy Nature Euen in her infancie and cradle-Rightes Inuiting it to dustie Deaths defeature And therewithall thy Fortunes fierce despights Death is the gulfe of all and then I say Thou art as good as Caesar in his clay Death is the drearie Dad and dust the Dame Of all flesh-frailtie woe or maiestie All sinkes to earth that surgeth from the same Nature and Fortune must together die Only faire Vertue skales eternitie Aboue Earths all-abating tyrannie Read in my front the ruine of my nature And therwithall perpend thy miseries I doe confesse I were a cursed creature Were not Gods grace aboue m'infirmities So thou in Faith to after-retribution Asswage thy woe and tribulation Die in thy Sauiours wounds and there an end There pricke the Period of thy moody wander To him thy woe and the reuenge commend As to thy soueraigne Liege and high commander And thinke no errour whispereth in thine eare For what I say is true and that I sweare So said the teares of zeale trill'd downe his cheeks Attesting truth vnto his Catechisme When loe eâ—t soons vnto the Crucifixe Crooching adowne he said Oh sacred Chrisme Oh sweet asswage of infelicitie Witnesse that what I say is veritie Say art not thou the image of our Lord The true Character of his sufferance Was he not crown'd deluded and abhord Misuail'd and scourg'd with vile mis-valiance Oh was not he the holie Paschall-lambe That di'd repinelesse for the sinnes of man Sweet Iesu giue me leaue to kisse thy figure With thankfull zeale to thy benignitie And let me pray thee by so great disfigure T' inspire this man of woe thy passiue-glorie That not all like a beast hee droop and die Heart-lesse and impious in his miserie Defend thy image from so black a blurre With thy in-shine Let not temptation foyle So much thy Passions price all like a Curre But as thou art a President of toyle To after-glorie so let thy grace fore-goe And faire accompanie this man of woe Without thy grace my speech is all but aire And barraine Marle it batteneth not the ground It is thy grace that foysoneth all affaire That holie grace that floweth from thy wound I speak in flesh inuested in my bryer There is no flame at all but from thy fire Make it appeare how good a God thou art And how thy woundes were not in vaine inflicted What Nature cannot doe let Grace impart To strengthen and inhearten the afflicted Shew that thy mercie is aboue the bound Of Fortunes topsie-turuie to confound Let not the fancies of a loftie stile And vaine mundanitie transport thy creature As though alonlie Fortunes lowre or smile Were soueraigne Glories gift and dread defeature As though thy power were worne out of date And could no longer signiorize our fate Disperse the terrors of his moodie night That he may see thy shone Hierusalem And in this holie Cittie Sions light Abide and faithfullie beleeue this Theame Happie they all that suffer for our Lord For he to such his heauen will affoord With that he kist the Crucifixe againe And with a strict imbrace therof he sounded His Ghost amounted vp to heauens domaine His corps lay trunke-like seeming dead confounded Whiles I meane while internallie infiered Did feele the woonders of Gods grace inspired Then gan I credit Catechrysius And hatefullie abhor my former mood Base Melancholie black and impious That so distrayd me from eternall good My heart exulted and in zeale I swore Now by our Lord I le be a beast no more I will no longer grudge at vertues toyle But gladly will be crucifi'd with Iesu No yron-fate shall heerafter foyle My constancie vnto the Christ-crosse rew I will accompt all dollour and mishap More deere then sweetest Lullaby in Fortunes lap No longer will I wander vp and downe The desart of Reuenge and dread Dispaire But heer will stint me against mis-fortunes frowne A