THE SCOURGE OF DRUNKENNESS.  
By William Hornby Gent.   depiction of andunsavory man-beast with scourge and pipe 
LONDON, Printed by G. ELD, for Thomas Bailiff, and are to be sold at his Shop, in the Middle-Row in Holborn, near unto Stapleinne. 1618.   

TO HIS LOVING Kinsman, and approved Friend, Mr. HENRY CHOLMELY Esquire: WILLIAM HORNBY wisheth all health and happiness.  

I Have presumed to Dedicate this Book  
Unto yourself (Kind Sir,) vouchsafe to look  
Into the same: and with judicious eyes  
View here the difference twixt the fool and wise.  
I count them fools, which night by night do sit  
In Taverns for to foolifie their wit;  
Suffering strong wine to domineire and brave,  
And so make Reason a poor captive slave:  
Who with Hell-smoaking vapours do delight  
To turn night into day, day into night:  
In which they Time, Wealth, Wit, and all do waste,  
Because to beggary they soon would hast.  
I deem them wise which can this sin eschew,  
And bless themselves from such a damned crew  
Of hate full hellhounds, in all sins grown ripe,  
Which daily dance before the devils Pipe:  
There's not a vice, but they're expert in all,  
And ready into Hell's wide mouth to fall.  
At Bacchus' Altars they their sins deplore:  
And Venus for their Goddess do adore.  
All virtuous thoughts they from their hearts expel,  
And never think of judgement, Heaven, or Hell.  
Then blest are they (I say) which sober live,  
And not an ear to their enticements give:  
Which keep decorum ever in their ways,  
Both to God's glory, and their endless praise:  
By this they shall preserve their wealth and name  
From prejudice, from scandal and from shame:  
By this they shall be honoured and renowned,  
Where special virtues in them so abound,  
'Tis ever best a golden mean to keep,  
And not to cl●mbe too high, nor wade too deep,  
Lest climbing high, the greater be their fall,  
And by deep wading they be drowned withal.  
To keep us then from falling either way,  
Upon this staff let our affections stay  
Of blessed Golden Mean, there let usrest;  
So live, so die; and dying so, be blest.  
Thus hoping you will kindly this receive,  
The rest unto your generous thoughts I leave.   
Your Kinsman to be commanded, WILLIAM HORNBY.   

TO ALL THE IMPIOUS, and relentlesse-harted RUFFIANS and ROISTERS under Bacchus' Regiment: Cornu-apes wisheth remorse of Conscience, and more increase of Grace.  

YOu Roaring-boys, which use to drink and swear  
As if you strait would cause the Devil appear  
Amongst you, for your execrable crimes,  
To fetch you unto hell before your times:  
View here the farewell of my youths-greene folly,  
Which breeds my joy, but your sad melancholy.  
'Tis joy to me, because I now do leave them:  
But grief to you, that I no more receive them.  
Thus 'tis my only comfort, but your sadness,  
That still I ●ill not follow you in badness:  
For they which be composed of all evil,  
Care not how many go unto the Devil;  
That as on earth they all alike do fare,  
Even so in hell like torments they may share.  
Once I was vain, yet now I do abhor it:  
But I may blame such wicked tempters for it.  
Now by the light of Grace my faults I see,  
How vain, how wild, and how corrupt they be.  
I feel within my breast continual jars,  
My Flesh and Spirit are at mortal wars,  
By reason of my sins so extreme wild,  
As hard it is to have them reconciled.  
But now Repentance comes, and she makes peace,  
And so the Combatants their wars do cease.  
She bids me boldly writ against that sin,  
And horrid wickedness, I long lived in.  
She bids me spit in Drunkenness foul face,  
Deny, defy, and do it all disgrace:  
With sharp invectives bitterly to rate it,  
Revile, detest, and utterly to hate it.  
Thus I of Bacchus' service am ashamed,  
Let me a Coward therefore be proclaimed  
At drinking healths: to drink so out of health  
They are wild members in a Commonwealth.  
Let Drunkards publish this for their own grace  
In every Town and Corporation place,  
That where I see pots stand in battle-ray,  
They make me Cowardlike to run away:  
With this loud clamour I am well content,  
'Twill be my praise, but their disparagement.  
Then they which filthy be, so still remain,  
Who toucheth pitch, must needs his finger's stain.  
I will proceed even as I have begun,  
Virtue shall be the race I mean to run.  
And so base Drunkards all, I you defy,  
Thus I will live, and thus I hope to die.   
Yours if you will turn to Grace, else not; CORNU-APES.   


COme Drunkenness, untruss,  
and naked strip thee:  
For without mercy  
I will sound whip thee.  
I have prepared a Scourge  
I hope will smart,  
Because I do abhor thee  
with my heart.  
Then will I pinch, nip, sear,  
and brand thy skin,  
To make thee (if thou canst)  
to feel thy sin.  
So serve thee in thy kind,  
and let thee pass,  
For the most vildest Rogue  
that ever was.  
I'll use thee like a Dog, a jew, a Slave.  
Expect no mercy from my hands to have.    

THE SCOURGE Of DRUNKENNESS.  
CORNU-APES his Farewell to Folly, or his Metamorphosis, wherein he doth show his unfeigned hatred to evil Company such as be Drunkards, Swearers, and such like; which God doth hate: And also, where he doth briefly display the effects of Drunkenness, with his Detestation of frequenting Alehouses: profitable to all, and hurtful to none.  

BItter sweet pleasing  
vanities adieu,  
Ye subtle Sirens  
sing unto yourselves,  
For from your songs,  
much prejudice ensue,  
I list no longer  
for to trust such Elves,  
Sing, play, pipe, dance, your Grandsire's Galliard round,  
Swagger and swear, dice, drab, and drink profound.   

The Crowing Cock which sharply checked Peter,  
The Scriechowles hideous notes give more content,  
The croaking night-Rau'n yieldeth tunes much sweeter  
Than the vain music your vild breaths have spent:  
These are and have been ominous to some,  
But yours presage a dismal end to come.   

To damp and quench the heat of all your sport,  
Let me but tell you the true end of all,  
You that to brothel houses do resort,  
And unto Dicing and to Drinking fall.  
I will be plain the very truth to tell,  
Such be the highways and the gates to hell.   

Your eager sports ●o easeless grief do tend, 
Sweet meat must have sour sance.   
Your mirth in mourning, and your bliss in bane,  
Your weal in woe, your wealth in wrack shall end,  
Your sweet in sour, your pleasure all in pain:  
This is the song my doleful Muse gins,  
Which doth declare the stipend of foul sins.   

Then suck Tobacco, and swell up your jaws,  
And make your nostrils like to Chimneys smoke,  
Still be rebellious to your maker's laws,  
If that you will his anger so provoke:  
For be you sure though he be slow to ire,  
His wrath will come, as a consuming fire.   

Be as you are, if you will not amend,  
As I have been, I will no more be so,  
As I have been, I was not my own friend,  
But to myself a very deadly foe:  
Then as I was, I do myself deny,  
And all the follies of my youth defy.   

In bearing of my name, I bear my shame,  
My name is spotted with my sins offence,  
But true repentance yet will clear the same,  
And make for it (I hope) a recompense,  
Then farewell all the follies of my youth,  
Which have been Traitors for too work my ruth.   

Most vain delights have hurt me all they can,  
In doing to me vild and great disgrace,  
I now will mortify a sinful man,  
Repentance doth thrust folly out of place:  
Folly therefore for ever far thee well,  
For true Repentance in my heart doth dwell.   

Bacchus thou God of all ebriety,  
Which dost obtuce and blunt the edge of wit,  
Thou enemy unto sobriety,  
Which makest some rage as in a frantic fit,  
Who so frequents thy Court shall not be wise,  
To thee therefore no more I'll sacrifice.   

Thou which dost cause the liquid juice of Grape, 
The diversity and contrariety of pretty drunken tricks and qualities. That is dance like Alexander's great horse.   
For to possess men's several heads with rage,  
Some for to dance the Antic like an ape,  
And some to sing as 'ttwere a Bird in Cage:  
Some Maudlin-drunke do strait distill down tears,  
And some like great Bucephalus, carreares,   

Some, fall to swear, blaspheme, to cog and lie,  
And some will rattle pots against the wall,  
Some in Pot valour will his manhood try,  
And some to other pretty feats will fall:  
Some than will run through fire and water deep,  
And some be silent and fall fast asleep.   

Some, armed in Ale, will stoutly prate of Wars,  
And some will in an Alehouse draw his dagger,  
Some will over look the Moon and all the stars,  
And some will in a beastly humour swagger,  
And some will offer to no Creature wrong,  
Because the Cramp is in his legs and tongue.   

Some, like an Ape, will featly mumble and mow,  
When Drink hath much deformed his formal face,  
And some will reel when as he cannot go,  
And some will run and ride the wild-goose chase:  
And some will shout and hollow like madmen,  
And some will roar like Lions in a Den.   

Some valiant Hercules will imitate, 
Drink makes Cowards valiant.   
To fetch the triple-headed Dog from Hell,  
And some of great achievements then will prate,  
As if their deeds should Hercules excel:  
And some will fight up to the knees in blood,  
For his friend's sake if it will do him good.   

Some like an adjective do props require,  
For to support their ill distempered bodies,  
And some like Swine do wallow in the mire:  
And some go gazing here and there like noddies,  
Some hath the ache so grievous in his head,  
That he wants help to carry him to bed.   

Some disobedient rakehell void of grace,  
When Drink hath got the mastery of his wit,  
Will call his father fool before his face,  
And cheek by jowl by him will boldly sit.  
And some in drink will give a desperate stab,  
And some not stick to call his mother Drab.   

Some hath his face most curiously bedecked, 
Most admirable rich faces.   
With Carbuncles and buttery buttons fine,  
And some will have his face most strangely sleckt  
Like Cream and strawberries or Claret wine:  
And some will have his nose most rich bespread,  
With Pearls and Crinkoms mixed with crimson red.   

Some to maintain his huge red bottle nose,  
Lest that the fire should be extinct and die,  
Ere he want cash to drink he'll pawn his clothes,  
So make his back, out of his belly cry,  
And bitterly the same to ban and curse,  
That by his paunch his back should far the worse.   

Some ere he want his quenchless thirst to slake,  
Will Conicatch, and cheat, so live by's wit;  
And some near greatly care a purse to take,  
If opportunity their purpose fit:  
Thus may we see, this sin Ebriety  
Doth link together much impiety.   

All these are Bacchus' prentices free made  
Of that foul trade of filthy Drunkenness,  
His Livery is on their fronts displayed,  
And true devotion they to him express,  
At's Altars they Tobacco sacrifice,  
And honour him in all due quaffing wise.   

He trains them up and frames them, makes them fit,  
For death, destruction, and eternal woe,  
Their fins will sink them to th'infernal pit,  
Where Drunkards all without Repentance go:  
Besides all earthly blessings quite forsake them,  
And shame and Beggary do overtake them.   

Who ever knew but that some fearful end,  
At unawares these Maltwormes did surprise,  
In which God doth his justice right extend,  
As he is all-upright, all-iust, alwise,  
His menaces they never fear at all,  
Until his judgements on their heads do fall.   

But first, being loath for ever they should die,  
He warns them fair, (as warned folks may live)  
And with delays he likewise them doth try,  
Deferring still due punishment to give:  
But when he sees they will not turn to grace,  
His judgement strait doth mercy quite displace.   

Then grim-facd Death comes with his Mace in's fist,  
And at God's suit doth sudden them arrest, 
There is not resisting against Death   
When 'tis in vain to rescue, or resist,  
His conquering hand doth ever get the best:  
He is God's Sergeant, and no kind of bail  
Can any whit in all the world prevail.   

Not all the costly rich Arabian gold,  
Can ransom them from Death's strong Prison place,  
Nor all the treasure that our eyes behold,  
No bonds, no bail, can help them in this case:  
No strength of men, no policies, no laws  
Can once redeem them out of deaths strong claws.   

Thus on these lawless livers he makes seizure,  
Not by one way, but by a sundry kind,  
Which is at God's appointment, will and pleasure,  
By his decree their lives are so resigned,  
As by examples often do appear,  
Which is enough to strike our hearts with fear.   

One in the midst of quaffing ends his days,  
Even by a sudden stab which he receives,  
Such Accidents do happen many ways:  
Another in a ditch lies drunk, and leaves  
His lifeless Corpses there, grievous to be found,  
To witness he was drunk ere he was drowned.   

Another doth receive a woeful check,  
His brains round whirling with distempering drink,  
Down from his horse doth fall and break his neck,  
All these are heavy judgements we may think,  
Another surfeiting in great excess,  
Dies sudden in the midst of Drunkenness.   

Another having spent his only means,  
In a most drunken loose lascivious vain,  
Upon base Panders, filthy Whores and Queans,  
Which wealth might well him else in age sustain:  
Having thus vainly spent a good estate,  
By a sad swing his days do end their date. 
He departeth out of this World in a halter.    

Oh are not these fair warnings to take heed!  
And yet alas men cannot warned be,  
For still they do in drunkenness exceed,  
We are so blind our faults we cannot see:  
Drunkards, each where do swarm as thick, at least,  
As flies on some dead putrefied beast.   

Sodom did not in greater sin abound,  
Then doth this wicked world we now enjoy,  
Whereas ten righteous men could not be found,  
For which the Lord with fire did it destroy:  
That in so much we now may plainly see,  
Sodom was burned, her sins escaped be.   

For he which will not take his Lap down free, 
The Drunkards term their Drink Lap, a good currish comparison fit enough for such dogs as they be.   
Lap, so they term it, such as dogs do use,  
And dogs with such indeed do best agree,  
Because God's Creatures they so vild abuse:  
he's a base fellow that will this deny,  
When as most baseness in themselves doth lie.   

And he that will not drink off his whole scour,  
Is a Bench-whistler, and a peasant slave,  
Oh they will rail upon him every hour,  
And tell him he's not worthy for to have  
A boon companion or good fellows name,  
If that he rightly cannot show the same.   

But he which bravely will carouse and quaff,  
And drink downe-drunke even to the depth of Hell,  
And spend his money, as it were but chaff,  
Oh that's the man that bears away the bell,  
He shall be praised, for taking of his due,  
And called a Captain of the Drunken crew.   

But if to pledge a slash he doth refuse;  
They'll take the pot, and throw the drink in's face,  
And with broad scoffs, most grossly him abuse,  
Thus will they urge him to his great disgrace:  
So upon this, they must go try their tools,  
Then out they go to fight like drunken fools,   

When as they cannot go, nor stand alone.  
Then most of all their hearts with fury swell,  
They'll make great brags to have their valour shown,  
That they will fight even with the Devil of Hell:  
Whilst that their reputation quite doth sink,  
Base is the quarrel that gins in drink.   

But of all other he is truly wise,  
That from these ill-good-fellowes can refrain,  
Though scoffingly they say he is precise,  
Yet Drunkards tongues his credit cannot stain:  
For blessed are they which have an evil report,  
By them which are right of the devils consort.   

'Tis great impeachment to a generous mind,  
A base and paltry Alehouse to frequent,  
It best befits a Tinker in his kind,  
Then any man of virtues eminent,  
Go to an Alehouse to quaff and carouse,  
'tis Cousin German to a Bawdy-house.   

It is the receptacle of all vices, 
An Alehouse rightly deciphered.   
Where Tinkers and their Tib's do oft repair,  
Where thieves and jugglers with their slight devices,  
Their false got booties, at a night do share,  
Where Rogues and Runagates do still resort,  
And every Knave which is of evil report.   

It is a Cage of all base Villainy,  
Where Swearers, Dicers, Cutpurses and Cheators,  
Bull-wards and Bearwards with like company,  
Of Fiddlers, Farriers, Coney-catching creatures,  
Bawds, peddlers, Panders, and such Bridewell stuff,  
As Mistress Meritrix with t'flaunting Ruff.   

It is a harbour for iniquity,  
It is the very sink of horrid sin,  
It is a Den of all impiety,  
And well is he that doth not fall therein:  
It is a place of pleasure bitter-sweet,  
Where Knaves and Whores do oft together meet.   

There every saucy jack will have his Jill,  
And every knave will with his mate be bold,  
nought evermore with nought frequenteth still,  
Birds of a feather will together hold:  
Where stinking carrion doth corrupted lie,  
There greedy Kites do all together fly.   

Thus where an Alehouse is deciphered right,  
Me think a Gentleman should scorn to stain,  
His virtues, which might else give splendour bright,  
So basely in an Alehouse to remain:  
Go to an Alehouse, why then go to Hell;  
For there all sin and villainy doth dwell.   

There every upstart, base-conditioned slave,  
If that he have but money in his bag,  
A Gentleman unto his teeth will brave,  
And in his pots most malapertly brag:  
Confront him too with terms most gross and vild:  
Who toucheth pitch of force shall be defiled.   

Oh is't not pity Gentlemen should drowned  
Their wealth, their wits, and virtues, all in drink,  
When such good qualities in them are found,  
They should (alas) so much i'th' wetting shrink?  
For though they be well read, and highly borne,  
Yet theyare but held in base contempt and scorn.   

How much, Oh how much, do they dim I say  
Their Orient virtues which might else appear,  
As bright as Cynthia in her glorious ray,  
When gentle winds the night from Clouds do clear:  
Ay me, that Virtue should lie so obscure,  
And Prisoner-like such penance great endure.   

Then Gentlemen let me you this persuade,  
From what you be do not degenerate,  
God a degree you above others made,  
That chiefly Virtue you might imitate:  
For Gentlemen from Swains should differ far,  
As doth the Moon from the least twinkling star.   

As for the vulgar let them still be vicious,  
Let them be drunk and altogether vain,  
Let them be wicked Swearers and malicious,  
If no persuasions can their wills restrain:  
A rustic humour fits a rustic mind,  
Only be you from such gross ills refined.   

Once did I see, I would I had not so,  
A thing not strange, yet strange I would it were,  
A Vicar was so drunk he could not go,  
With drinking of Tobacco, Ale, and Beer:  
Needs must the People then go far astray,  
When as the guide doth reel out of the way.   

Another time I saw as bad a sight,  
A justice that did rule a corporation,  
Would to the people bid at noon good-night,  
By reason of strong liquors operation:  
Ill can he keep a Town in good subjection,  
When as he cannot rule his own affection.   

And is not this a lamentable case,  
They which should be as Lanterns shining bright,  
To guide each one to run a virtuous race,  
Do more eclipse their ways then make them light,  
unreverend Sirs, your places fit you ill,  
Because you cherish Vice and Virtue kill.   

I knew a Vicar was as free a man, 
Behold a swaggering Vicar.   
As ever to this day Tobacco nosed:  
He would not stick to drink off his whole Can,  
If in an humour he was so disposed:  
For a full cup he would be no man's debtor,  
there's not a Roaring-boy could pledge him better.   

A Constable which lacked both wit and law,  
(As of them such Lack-iudgements there be many)  
Would drink himself as witless as a Daw,  
So break the peace and brawl and fight with any,  
Infringe his oath, and oft be changing knocks,  
judge then if he deserve not best the Stocks.   

Act●nke Attorney likewise I have known,  
Which would carouse as deep as any other,  
Until by drink he would be overthrown:  
For to good fellowship he was sworn brother:  
But may not he even for an Idiot pass,  
Will trust his Case with such a drunken Ass.   

Thus they which should civility embrace,  
Observe good order, and preserve the peace,  
Do altogether err in such a case,  
Which doth their endless infamy increase:  
For when such faults by these, men understand,  
Who'll put a sword into a mad man's hand.   

Thus they which should be perfect precedents  
Of glorious virtue and a godly life,  
Do even become accursed instruments,  
To foster drunkenness now grown too rise.  
The Clergy do● instruct, admonish, preach,  
Yet seldom follow that which they do teach.   

But though their hearts be vain, profane and wild,  
And for God's word too bad and base a place  
To dwell in; yet most sure 'tis undefiled,  
Nor can it dim the lustre of its grace:  
'Tis far unfit indeed, becave so pure,  
In such foul filthy vessels to endure.   

So nevertheless their doctrine may be sound,  
Though they two masters, God and Bacchus serve:  
But this in sacred Writ is certain found,  
Who serves two Masters needs from one must swerver:  
Then where in such foul hearts such vices breeds,  
Respect their doctrine, but reject their deeds.   

But by the way, before I further go,  
Though I affirm the Clergy to be nought,  
In general yet I do not tax them so,  
Oh God forbidden I should have such a thought,  
No, there be some most sacred and divine,  
Whose light aright like glorious stars do shine.   

These cherish virtues, vices do suppress,  
These are unfeigned haters of foul sin:  
These sharply do reprove vile drunkenness,  
And other wickedness that men live in,  
Yea these be they which only do endeavour,  
To cure sick souls that they may live for ever.   

God grant their doctrine I may right embrace,  
And imitate the lives which they do lead:  
Then shall I gain an ever-blessed place,  
Which is devoid of sorrow, grief and dread:  
God grant (I say) I such may imitate,  
Until my latest days do end their date.   

I only this and nothing more desire,  
For the World's follies I have known too long,  
And do repent, recant, and quite retire  
From those vain ways in which I have gone wrong?  
A better task I now will undergo,  
With hearty sorrow for my erring so.   

And as I did begin, I here conclude,  
To vain delights, I now do bid farewell,  
And to the rascal drunken multitude,  
Whose portions for them are reserved in Hell,  
For these God hath ordained endless terrors,  
If that they soon do not repent their errors.   

Virtue is she which above all I love,  
Virtue that leads unto eternal bliss,  
Virtue my faith and loyalty shall prove,  
For her I do adore, embrace and kiss:  
She is my comfort and my only pleasure,  
My Love my Dove, inestimable treasure.   

She is my solace, and my sweet delight,  
She is my joy even in my great extremes,  
With her I will converse both day and night,  
she'll banish all vain thoughts, and idle dreams  
Quite from my heart, for virtue is most pure,  
And can no filthy wickedness endure.   

Thus with this resolution I do end,  
No more to be by folly so misled,  
The remnant of my days I'll better spend,  
To Virtue only I am truly wed,  
She is my Spouse I'll have no other wife,  
Till death doth come and take away my life.    

A MEDITATION OF the FLESH and SPIRIT.  

OH what strong oppositions do arise,  
Within my frail, weak and unstable breast!  
My Flesh and Spirit are mortal enemies,  
Excluding peace, procuring my unrest:  
I like, dislike, I hate and yet I love  
Those sins which to me do  Traitors prove.   

Which do betray my Soul to endless woe,  
With all deceitful pleasures wild and vain,  
I feign would leave this sin yet on I go,  
Surcease a while and then return again,  
My Spirit's willing often for to leave it,  
But then my Flesh again bids her receive it.   

My Spirit freely longeth after grace,  
And doth by grace in Heaven desire to dwell,  
Yet stubborn Flesh would intercept the place,  
Of my Souls rest, to cast it down to Hell,  
Thus they within me strive like those two twins,  
jacob and Esau: yet cannot be friends.   

Rebellious Flesh doth sore itself oppose,  
Against my Spirit fraught with fearfulness,  
And enters arms with sins insulting foes,  
Weak nature down by violence to press:  
Fear of God's wrath doth make me cease from sin,  
Then that forgot, a new I do begin.   

Three mighty Giants do my soul assail,  
(Great odds, my poor weak spirit to resist)  
The World, the Flesh, the Devil, all these prevail  
And by their force do conquer as they list:  
To kill and rob me of each virtuous thought,  
Plots of false pleasure they have hourly wrought.   

When as good motions enter in my breast,  
And I bethink me of the state of Man,  
How far through sin I am from being blest,  
And that my life is short and but a span,  
The Devil he than doth to false doctrine fall,  
And saith, Sin on; thy sins are Venial.   

The World, it's fraught with execrable sin,  
And doth stir up my Appetite to lust,  
Unto alluring baits it doth me win,  
Seducing unto vanities unjust:  
And careless saith, let Melancholy fly,  
Eat, drink and sleep, to morrow thou shalt die.   

The Flesh to pleasures doth itself betake,  
And steals good motions from my heart away,  
So Grace and Goodness it doth quite forsake,  
Vain Pride and Luxury, for to obey,  
Accounting sin no sin, and deeming hell,  
To be a tale, which some old wive, do tell.   

It saith, that Pride is but a decent thing,  
And Avarice, is good frugality,  
It saith that Swearing doth from valour spring,  
Which doth declare man's Magnanimity:  
It saith to quaff is fellowship, right good  
To maintain friendship, and to nourish blood.   

It tells me bounty argues a brave mind,  
And Venus sport is but a youthful trick,  
Whilst penury comes posting fast behind,  
And with wants spurs doth touch me to the quick:  
Thus still the flesh doth make my sins seem small,  
By false opinion for to work my fall.   

Fond flesh, why dost thou thus thyself abuse?  
(Which art the only Mansion of thy Soul,)  
All gracious proffers daily to refuse,  
By rash repulse, and rigorous control;  
Yield sinful Flesh, yield for thy after good,  
And live in peace, in love, in brotherhood.   

Resist not still, for fear of future smart,  
Delays breed danger, as experience prove,  
One time the Spirit from the Flesh shall part,  
How loath wilt thou be then it should remove:  
And such a dear companion to forsake,  
When as Death comes away thy soul to take.   

For Soul and Body cannot ever hold  
Together, but must needs a parting make,  
Th'one to the Earth to be enclosed in mould,  
Tho'other to rest or unrest doth betake,  
Until the last and dreadful day of doom,  
When quick and dead shall unto judgement come.   

Each Soul her body then shall repossess,  
And they that have done well shall Heaven inherit,  
But they which still Gods sacred Laws transgress,  
They shall have Hell, just stipend for their merit.  
For God doth all men's secret sins behold,  
Which are in's Book of great accounts enrolled.   

Then how shall I (poor worms meat, wretched Man)  
Be able for to stand before his sight,  
Who me like Chaff will winnow with his Fan,  
From the pure Wheat his chosen and delight:  
Is no hope left me from despair to keep?  
Yes sure; for Christ is Shepherd of his Sheep.   

Oh, there's a jewel for my Souls content,  
Since it is so, I never will distrust:  
My Saviour puts Despair to banishment,  
He died for me, a sinner and unjust:  
And by his Death and Passion, I believe,  
That unto mercy he will me receive.   

Although my sins, were even as Scarlet, red;  
And with vain thoughts my heart was filled full;  
Though in corruption I was borne and bred;  
By Christ I yet am made as white as wool:  
So dearly he hath all the world esteemed,  
That by his death the (faithful) he redeemed.   

Christ is the only Shepherd of renown,  
Who love's his sheep so truly and so dear,  
That for their sakes his life he did lay down,  
That they by him might Crowns of Glory wear  
In that celestial place, prepared for those  
Which true Repentance from their hearts disclose.   

(Sweet jesus) I have often gone astray,  
And erred both in thought, in word, and deed:  
O, lead me now into the perfect way!  
Though great my sins, thy mercies great exceed.  
With mercy (Lord) me straying sheep behold,  
And bring me back again into thy Fold.   

Grant (gracious Father) I thy Laws may keep,  
And that thy Statutes I may right obey:  
That when the Goats are severed from the Sheep,  
At thy right hand I may with comfort stay,  
Where I shall hear that blessed voice Venite,  
So never fear that cursed sentence Ite.   

In justice (Lord) do not behold my sin,  
To take thereof a strict and straight account:  
Nor in just judgement do not once begin  
To punish me, because my sins surmount  
All other sinners, whatsoe'er they be;  
In Mercy, not in justice look on me.   

Lord keep me ever from presumptuous sin,  
So guide, direct, and order all my ways,  
That I regenerate may a new begin  
To serve thee right, and give thee perfect praise:  
For who can magnify thee in the pit?  
Or give thee praise which do in darkness sit?   

O Lord, to thee I sue, I beg, entreat,  
Not for my merits, but thy mercy's sake,  
To grant me mercy from thy mercy seat:  
For my deservings me accursed make;  
Which if thou shouldst no better me regard,  
Death and hell-fire would be my just reward.   

With Sin and Shame I am environed round;  
Sin at my right hand, Shame stands at my left,  
And vice and folly in me so abound,  
That of thy graces I am quite bereft:  
I sin, still shame at sin; I lose and win:  
Thus daily walk I circular in sin.   

I lose heavens blessed and all-glorious place,  
In running headlong into sin and error:  
I win Prince Pluto's Court of black disgrace,  
All fraught with dread, with torment and with terror:  
This is my just desert, my due, my meed,  
If thou (O Lord) in justice shouldst proceed.   

Since than I am so wicked and so vain,  
So wild, so wretched in thy gracious fight:  
My impure heart, which filthy sin doth stain,  
Make pure (O Lord,) and so reform aright  
The inward man; that being dead to sin,  
I may to righteousness anew begin.   

And so to live; and living so, to die;  
That dying so, I so may live again;  
And so to live, to all eternity  
Amongst thy glorious Saints in heaven to reign.  
A sinner's death thou (Lord) dost not desire,  
If he repent, and from his sins retire.   

Repentance then shall be the only course  
To bring me into favour with my God:  
From Folly quite I will myself divorce,  
To which I have been wed twelve years and odd:  
Twelve years and odd, I have been vainly led,  
More oft then there be hairs upon my head.   

I will begin my nunquam sera now,  
And spend the remnant of my days in grace:  
I have confirmed it with a solemn vow,  
A life more godly ever to embrace:  
For God hath said; from's word he will not flee,  
Who true reputes, shall truly pardoned be.   

To this, by word, be firm himself hath tied,  
Which stronger is then covenant, bond or bill;  
Yea, better far than all the world beside:  
For he all-faithfull is, and ever will:  
Then sink Despair into the depth of hell,  
I'll trust in God, with whom I hope to dwell.    

A PRAYER AGAINST TEMPTATION.  

I Now have vowed  
from vanity to flee,  
To dedicate  
my life and love to thee,  
O (gracious God) grant  
I my vow may keep,  
Till Death close up mine eyes  
with his dead sleep:  
For unless thou  
be an assistant to it,  
I, of myself,  
unable am to do it.  
My nature is  
so sinful, weak, and frail,  
That when that Satan doth  
my thoughts assail,  
He oft of me  
the Victory doth win,  
So bears me headlong  
into grievous sin,  
With Satan's boisterous  
and contagious blast  
Of great temptations  
here and there I'm cast,  
Upon the Rocks  
of Fear, Distress, and Woe,  
Hope and Despair  
do oft to warring go:  
Sometimes I say  
that I will cease from sin,  
And yet through weakness  
I again begin.  
Sometimes, this sin I do,  
and then abhor it:  
And sometimes that,  
then strait crave pardon for it.  
I sin, and for my sins  
do beg remission:  
As if to sin still  
I would have commission.  
Thus Satan doth  
against my soul conspire,  
In making of me  
to my sins retire;  
Thy gracious aid  
I therefore do deplore,  
(Good God) that I  
may ever thee adore,  
With fervent zeal  
and with an upright heart,  
Laying foul vice  
and vanity apart:  
Infuse into my mind  
thy holy grace,  
Make it for thee  
a sacred mansion place.  
With holy weapons arm  
my breast within,  
That I of Satan may  
the conquest win.  
With Faith in thee,  
with Hope and Confidence.  
Let all these weapons  
(Lord) be my defence:  
For what am I  
without thy gracious aid,  
But even a filthy,  
loathsome sinner made?  
What strength have I  
the Devil to withstand,  
If thou be wanting  
with thy powerful hand?  
For that same great  
old enemy to man,  
Goes still about  
to murder whom he can:  
Defend me (Lord)  
from his devouring jaws,  
And make me truly  
to observe thy Laws.  
And as thyself  
mine only maker art;  
So frame my mind,  
and so direct my heart,  
That always still  
may harbour in my breast  
Unfeigned hate  
of that I now detest.   
FINIS.