The Just Down 〈…〉 Ambition, Adultery, and Murder. whereunto are added 3. notorious sinners. , Weston. M. Turner and Fra 〈…〉 With his Arraignment, Confession and E 〈…〉 Who all suffered Death for the 〈…〉 der of Sir Tho: Ouerbury, poison 〈…〉 the Tower: of whom to these discourses joined an Elegy, upon the death of Sir Thomas Ouerbury. The just Downfall of three notorious Sinners, v●●. Weston, Mistress Turner, and Fra●●klin. Who all suffered death for the Murder of Sir THOMAS OVERBURY, who was poisoned in the Tower. LOoking lately into the customs of this Age, and conjecturing the inward affections of men, I gather that the world is the house of confusion, and the inhabitants thereof set upon mischief: for the seven Capital Sins are grown to such a custom, that our eyes want no allurements to bewitch, our ears no persuasions to seduce, nor our senses no subtlety to affect: Which seizing on the hearts of men, have brought forth many pernicious children, to the hurt of Nature; some like Centaurs, begotten of clouds, as Ambition; some like Serpents nourished in dunghills, as Sensuality; some like Vapours, raised up to be consumed, as Flattery, and such like: generally all dangerous and full of trouble: therefore (is it in the sense of man) most fitting to have the painting taken off from these foul faces, the covers pulled off from these cups of Poison, and the covert of this bed of Serpents ripped up, that we may discern what hath long time been hidden cunningly. The first that presents himself upon our Stage, If we call Ambition, catching at nothing but Stars, 〈◊〉 only for Greatness: this is he, that cunningly can invent stratagems to his own overthrow, giving Pens occasion to write Tragedies: if he rise from obscurity, (as many have done) he laboureth to be skilful in those things, which are most pleasing to the greater sort, and tolerable among the Commons: His study is for praise, and not for Virtue: His looks like Mausolus' Tomb, fair and comely without, but within nothing but rotten bones, and corrupt practices: his apparel increaseth with his ●ortune, and as worldly affairs direct him, so subeth he both fashions and affections: in his study he affects singularity, and is proud in being Author of a new Stratagem: if he chance to come into the ●ye of the World, he than creeps into the favour of some great parsonage, in feeding whose humours (to relieve his wants) he makes intrusion into some heritage, and matcheth not according to his birth, but to the increase of his fortune; and by that means, by hook or crook, he attaineth to some place in the Court. Then begins he with gifts to win hearts; by feigned humility to avoid hatred; by offices of friendship, to bind his equals; by cunning insinuations to work his Superiors; by which means he is held to be worthily a Statesman. Being grown to this step higher, the authority likes him not without the style, wherein if any cross him, look for poison in his cup, or conspiracy in his walks: yea so pestilent is his nature, that (like fire raked up in embers) he never showeth but to consume both himself and others: if he perceive any that by ripe judgement conceiteth his courses, with him he joineth, as if he sought his only protection under the wing of his Glory, but the very truth is, he hath no other intent but this, to clip the wings of his renown for fear he fly beyond him: if the nature of the Nobleman whom he envieth be gentle, he bringeth him in fear, either of his own servants in his household, or his familiars that love his honour, or else some mislike betwixt his Prince and him, sworn and confirmed by flatteries and intelligences, till the nobleman looseth either his land, authority, or place; and he attain both his style and promotion: yet play he never so cunningly, such uncertain honours beget daily dangers, & make him careless of his soul's prosperity: for then there entereth intohis mind a delightful sin called curiosity, by which, to make him more able in other mischiefs, he gives entertainment to witches and charmers, and consorts himself with novell-mongers, and strange inventors of banquets, to set lust on fire, and that can devise confections to besot youth with luxury, that for an ireful man can work strange revenges, for a fearful, a strong tower to keep him in: to be excellent at poisons, to kill lingeringly, like the Italian. But again to our purpose. To the Ambitious man there is commonly belonging a rustic troop of Flatterers, Bawds, Adulterers Soothers, and such like, that hating 〈◊〉 virtue makes sin seem pleasing, which 〈◊〉 in the flexible heart such a sweet desire of forbidden pleasures, that it even surfeits and grows sick with excess; Lust and Adultery I mean; which I describe in this manner. It is the most insolent of all things, it troubles the mind, and taketh away the Empire of liberty, it confounds Memory, kills Providence, and treads down good Counsel. Offends not he the Law that takes possession of another man's freehold, and makes a Common of his Neighbour's Enclosure? Adulterers, I say, have no Spirit to goodness, nor will they be by any Council moved to godliness: for their felicity is in the surfeits of the flesh, and the pleasures thereof bring nothing but too dear repentance: the Adulterer spites him most that examines his proceedings; and plots his overthrow that doth but touch his infirmities. Oh! what an enemy is it to virtue, the only wrack of wealth, and plain high way to poverty? The Adulterer is so blinded in heart, and so hardened withal, that he can hardly look up toward Heaven to behold Gods just judgements: yet so just and sure they are that in all ages this vile sin hath been severely punished, as by the example of judas, justice on Thamar, David's adultery with Urias' wife punished in his son Absalon, thousands of men died in the fields of Moab for this fault, threescore thousand of the children of Israel were put to the sword for the ravishing only of a Levites Wife: of all sins it is in nature the most odious, and brings with it the greatest shame unto 〈◊〉: it is a sin that hath made the earth drunk with blood, to the confusion of many Towns and Cities. Sodom and Gomorah were consumed with fire for Incest and Adultery: Troy a proud City made a plow-land for the same sin. It was the only adulteries of the French, that caused a Massacre of fourscore thousand, by the ringing of one bell. Let not the Strumpet's eye, says one of the Sages of Greece, shine upon the countenance of young men, lest with the Basaliske it pierce unto the death: for her malice is as lightning, and more raging than the she Bear: upon her attends malicious hatred, whose felicity is only to rejoice at the harms of others, giving more affliction to them that are most troubled with affliction, where if any offend her, she admits no reconciliation, but lives as a partial judge in her own cause: if she hears the advancement of virtue than grows she pensive, and if she want credit amongst the mighty, then falls she working with the meaner sort: she smiles not upon any man but to betray him, nor gives him countenance but to undo him, nor contrives any Stratagems without Murder, nor dwells by any neighbour but to hurt him; and if she be but crossed in her will, she ever frets herself away in anger, and after in hate and malice becomes infamous: for her love is a minute, but her spite overlasting. Her hand being once dipped in mischief, she never walks abroad but in suspicion, fearing to be accused by virtue, and still lives in dread of her good Fortune: yet by nature is she such, that she hath courage enough to adventure on any sin. An ambitious woman shows herself to be a troublesome disturber of the world, powerful to make small things great, and great, monstrous: Envy by nature is grieved at the Prosperity of others: he envieth the Great in that he cannot Equal them, he envieth the weak, dreading they should compare themselves with him: he envieth his Equals because they should not become his Companions: in Kingdoms, Commonwealths, Princes Courts and Ambitious men's Houses, he is still working: no Man hunteth after Honour but he affronts him, only the miserable man he envies not, because (being kept in Prison) he fears not his risings, yet hath he a scorn over him. Machiuell knowing the venom of this vice, gave his son this last and not least instruction: that he should not be envious, but to do (saith he) such deeds that others may envy thee: for to be envied is the token of good desert, but to be envious the sign of a foolish nature, which verifies the saying of Marcus Tullius the Orator, that the most flourishing fortune is most envied at. But now to be more familiar in my discourse: where Ambition, Adultery, Pride, Envy, Malice, and such like Capital Sins have set in foot, there cannot choose but follow Murder and confusion, and where the foundation is laid with blood, there can be a building but of small continuance, but where Honours have a true beginning, a ground of virtue springing up by noble deserts, continued by Wisdom and maintained with Care, there cannot choose but follow a fruitful harvest, and a plentiful Winter: chose to obtain sudden Honours begets Pride and Vainglory: Pride and Vainglory are the cherishers of Envy and Malice: Envy and Malice the Nurses of Bloodshed & Murder, in which whosoever dippeth but the tip of his finger, gives to his Soul a scarlet stain, which never can be clear until the dissolution of the body, and then well are they that can wash it away with the true tears of repentance. Brittle is that greatness that fadeth in a moment, and vain the joy that is unwisely lost. He that hath a sudden rise and can wisely stand, is a most happy worldling, but he that forgets himself on the Pinnacle of prosperity, is besotted with arrogancy: therefore let him that hunts for honours in Princes Courts, wander in an even passage, for dangerous are the proceedings and business of a Statesman. Take this for an example: suppose that a young man from the lowest ebb of worldly chance have the advancement of Greatness laid upon his shoulders, will it not for a time seem a heavy burden, and a great trouble to his new transformed fortunes? Will not the pride of his heart swell to a full Sea; even ready to burst over the banks of his Honour-giver? Then rightly may the Picture of ingratitude be imprinted in his forefront, playing the Viper to his high forunes first beginner. Being thus entitled with State-Offices, hath he not many soothers in sin, personages of base condition attending him, hemming him round with persuasions of self conceit, which for a need will venture their lives to gain him the commands of his will: what becomes of such follies but a sorrowful repentance, and no recovery? All you that have your hearts pierced with sad considerations, take this for a remembrance of grief, that is, that when a Woman of noble Parentage, placed on the mountain of smiling chance, having the dignity of Greatness shining on her forehead, should humble herself to base conditions, giving her whole mind to malicious hatred, secret consents of iniquity, self-will and wicked proceedings, never pacified till the end of damned performances. Oh! was not this woman created for a deep sorrow to her Alliance, a great grief unto her Country, and a foul stain unto her own reputation? Is it not also a lamentable example for a Gentleman of good birth and calling, placed in dignity in high office and charge for his Country, to give way by consent to a bloody stratagem, and for fear of the displeasures of Groatnes entangle himself in the snares of reproach? Will not this also be a continual remembrance to his posterity, and a bar of disgrace branding the coat-Armes of his house, to have the common course of justice pass upon him in the eye of the multitude? Is it not also great pity that for want of grace some of a servile (yet an observing condition) should from the golden mean of low estate wait at the elbow of Greatness, and bring fuel to their fire of iniquity, wherein at the length they themselves are likewise consumed? Oh! wherefore should simplicity thus blind up their eyes of understanding, to be thus the instruments of such dangerous drifts, that aim at nothing but grudge and malice? If with Solon's saying they had sealed up their hearts, Remember the end, this had never been: then how are they led away with amiss, that having the gifts of art and experience, the secrets of the simples of Physic, ordained by God for man's good use, should by the Devil & them be converted thus to malignant purposes? if the fear of God had shined in their hearts, it would have been a light to have led them fro● all those dark practices, which have now spotted the foreheads of their reputations with the marks of black infamy. Shame cannot choose but be the reward of such enterprisers, that for the favour of Greatness will dip their hands in the blood of Innocents', and even as it were work against nature: Oh more than savage minded Creatures! in the very deepness of your black and bloody imaginations (emboldened by whomsoever) this might have been your Memento, in which I conclude, that strange and wonderful are God's judgements, that in these forepassed stratagems have shined in great glory: say you then that blood innocently shed is laid up in heavens Treasury, not one drop of it can be lost, but lent out to Usury: water poured forth, sinks down quietly into the earth, but blood spilled on the ground, sprinkles up to the Firmament. Murder is wide-mouthed, and will not let God rest till he grant revenge, not only the blood of the slaughtered, but the soul of the innocent ascending to his throne, crying out and exclaiming for justice, which (the Lord be praised) hath been, and will be carefully followed by the learned and worthy Magistrates of this Kingdom, whom the Lord God prosper and protect in all their proceedings, to which let all true hearts say Amen. Mistrís Turner's Tears, for the Murder of Sir Thomas Ouerbury, who was poisoned in the Tower of London. IF ever tears fell from a Wretch's eyes, I am that Creature: waves on waves do rise So fast, and swell so high, they drown my soul In her own crimes, as numberless as foul. Oh had my cradle been my sudden Grave, In peace my Soul had slept, which is a slave Now both to sin and shame: I had not then Been of God hated, and so scorned of Men. Unhappy was the Womb that lent me breath, Would it had been the Charnell-house of Death, Had I been stifled there, them had my flight To heaven been like a Doves, with wings more white. O would to God the Day when I was borne, Had from the Calendar of time been torn, Where now it stands accursed, and does bear The mark of a most fatal Character. Many a Widow reading there my name, Will curse it, & the leaf that holds the same: Children as yet unborn, coming to spell, Will take it for a Furies name in Hell; And casting by the Book no more will read, But only learn to heap upon my head Wishes of mischief though in Grave I lie, For to confound me everlastingly. But leaving this, let my sad Story tell▪ B from what height I fall, & how I fell: That though time present does not moon my state Yet times to come may pity my hard fate. My birth was fair, my bringing up was good, My days were golden in my widowhood, And might have been so still, but climbers high Beyond their reach must down, and so do I. Plenty and I at board together sat, I fed with Dives, drank in richest plate: Wore rich attires, tasted all worldly pleasure, But near had care to hoard up heavenly treasure. With Eve I might have lived in Paradise, But that a Serpent did my Soul entice To touch forbidden fruit, which relished well In chewing, but being down it smelled of Hell. 'twas not one only Apple to devour, For which I longed; my hunger gaped at more, At a whole tree I looked: it was a Tree, methought the goodliest mortal eyes could see, This Tree I climbed, and as I plucked it grew Still fresh and fresh, the boughs were ever new; The branches ever green, bushy and fair, It seemed the Darling both of sun and air. But when my Soul looked up with open eyes, I saw the top-bough braving even the skies, When the root stuck in Hell, where looking in I knew it then to be the tree of sin. And though my Conscience told me I should fall, If that I leaned to: nothing could appall My settled resolution, I would on, Though still before me stood damnation. From this I plucked the guilded fruit of pride, Like Queen-apples they show'd, for every side Was ruddy and alluring, but (what trust Is in vain earth?) being touched they turn to dust. Fron this I sucked Enchantments which drunk well, And luscious sweet, yet proved the milk of hell: Hence did I gather poisonous drugs to kill Such as withstood my friends, or crossed my wil Lust often lay within my widowed sheets, And taught me how to taste forbidden sweets, And that toward hell I might go one step further The last and worst I went into was murder. O crying sin! which smothered near so deep, In caves, which silent night herself does keep, Bound up in darkness, like the steam of Hell which none can pierce; yet the black deed to tell Even graves of dead men (rotten long ago,) Will open wide: Vengeance walks often slow To our weak sight, but when to Strike it stands, On heavens high Tower, it hath a 1000 hands. Th' Almighty's Arrows fly both sure & strong, And where they hit great Oaks fall all along. No hidden mark but stands within his eye, And that he cleaves, when forth his wrath does fly. Witness myself and others, who defying The busiest searching Sunbeam from descrying Where Villainy lay lurking, wrapped in clouds, so safe we thought as dead men in their shrouds When to Man's Sense 'twas as impossible Mountains to move, as find a tongue durst tell Our buried plots; See! they are rend and torn By Gods lest finger; and we left in Scorn. Our masks plucked off, our faces now appear writ Such as they are indeed, not as they were, Plain on our brows are our close mischiefs Who most did hide, now most discover it. The Wolves are caught in snares; the shepherd now Knows that a Lamb was slain, by whom & how, The blood of whom by cruel friend so spilled, Flows like a Sea, yet washes off no guilt. If any ask me, why I was so led, And why so near to hell I ventured, I was bewitched, for what I did behold, Was a most bitter Pill, but wrapped in gold. That liquorish bait enticed me take it down, As wholesome Physic, but (with shane) 'tis known No poison can so soon destroy the Soul, The outside glorious, but the inside foul. O Gold! thou glittering devil that confoundest The Richest, Fairest, Strongest, wisest, Soundest, Would God, as He to Indians is unknown, That so their Drossy God were theirs Alone. Souls would not tumble then so fast to Hell, Nor of my Fall should I this Story tell, Terror to Soul and Body, had not Heaven, To sins more high and horrid, pardon given. Pardon of thee (sweet jesus) than I crave, What thou hast Bought and Paid for dearly Save. Men, let me beg forgiveness from you too Because I did more than my Sex should do. And you of Modest dames that bear the note, And my black Name quite from your table's blot, As I am lost, so let my fault I crave, And write Oblivion on my wretched Grave. You Fathers whom of Children I bereave, You Children whom of Parents I deceive, You Wives whom Husbandless my Gild does make, Forgive me All: of All this Leave I take. Heaven frowns to look upon me and my Sin, Earth trembles that by her I fed have been. My very breath poisons the Air about me, Hell only is within me and without me. Yet in despite of Hell, from Heaven comes down Mercy, I see holding a glorious Crown O● immortality over my faint head, jesus in that and thee I'm Comforted. Strengthen my weak heart, Death is fearful grim, One finger of thy Hand can vanquish him: Give to my fleeting Soul a prosperous gail; That I to Blessed jerusalem may Sail. FINIS. Master Westons' Tears, for the Murder of Sir Thomas Ouerbury who was poisoned in the Tower of London. GOD of my Soul and Body, have mercy upon me: the one I have cast away by my folly, & the other is likely to perish in thy Fury, unless in thy great mercy thou Save it. My Sins are deep Seas to drown me▪ I am swallowed up in the bottomless Gulf of my own transgressions. With Cain I have been a Murderer, and with judas a Betrayer of the Innocent. My body is a Slave to Satan, and my wretched Soul is devoured up by Hell. Black have been my thoughts, and blacker are my deeds. I have been the devils instrument, and am now become the Scorn of Men, a Serpent upon earth, and an outcast from Heaven. What therefore can become of me (miserable Caitiff?) if I look up to my Redeemer, to him I am an Arch Traitor, if upon Earth, it is drowned with Blood of my shedding, if into Hell, there I see my Conscience, burning in the Brimstone lake. God of my Soul and Body have mercy therefore upon me, Save me, O save me, or else I perish for ever, I die for ever in the world to come, unless (sweet Lord) thou catchest my repentant Soul in thine Arms; O save me, save me, save me. FINIS. james Franklin A Kentishman of Maidstone, his own Arraignment, Confession, Condemnation, and judgement of Himself, whilst he lay Prisoner ●n the King's Bench for the Poisoning of Sir Thomas Ouerbury. I Am Arraigned at the black dreadful Bar, Where Sins (so red as Scarlet) judges are; All my Inditements are my horrid Crimes, Whose Story will affright succeeding Times, As (now) they drive the present into wonder, Making Men tremble, as trees struck with Thunder. If any asks what Evidence comes in, O 'tis my Conscience, which hath ever been A thousand witnesses: and now it tells A Tale, to cast me to ten thousand Hells. The jury are my Thoughts (upright in this,) They sentence me to death for doing amiss▪ Examinations more there need not then, ●han what's confessed here both to God and Men. The Crier of the Court is my black Shame, Which when it calls my jury, doth proclaim 〈◊〉 (as they are summoned) they appear, To give true Verdict of the Prisoner, They shall have heavy Fines upon them set, Such as may make them die deep in heavens debt. About me round sit Innocence and Truth, As Clerks to this high Court; and little Ruth Because my facts are barbarous, damned, and base. The sergeant that about me (thick) are placed, To guard me to my death▪ (when I am cast) Are the black stings my speckled soul now feels, Which like to Furies dog me close at heels. The Hangman, that attends me is Despair, And gnawing worms my fellow-Prisoners are. His first Indictment for Murder. THe first who (at this Sessions) loud doth call me, Is Murder, whose grim visage doth appall me, His eyes are fires, his voice rough winds out-rores, And on my head the Divine Vengeance scores: So fast and fearfully I sink to ground, And wish I were in twenty Oceans drowned. He says I have a bloody villain been, And (to prove this) ripe Evidence steps in, Browed like myself: justice so brings about, That black sins still hunt one another out: 'Tis like a rotten frame ready to fall, For one main Post being shaken, pulls down all. To this Indictment, (holding up my hand,) Fettered with Terrors more than Irons I stand, And being asked what to the bill I say, Guilty I cry. O dreadful Sessions-day! His second Indictment for poisoning. ANother, forthwith bids me come to'th Bar, (Poison) that Hellborn cunning Sorcerer, That winds himself into a thousand forms, And when the day is brightest flings down storms. This hath an Angel's face, a Mermaids tongue, This is the Coward Sin, which (like a Pill,) When 'tis most guilded, is most sure to kill. Whether this Hel-hownd strike at Morn or Night, So treacherous, close, and speedy is his fight, That Armours all-of-proofe, nor Towers of Stone, Can bar his bloody Execution. This Snake with the smooth skin hissed out my name 'mongst others more, and venomed me with shame That rankles to the soul. It says that I (For a poor golden handful) did defy Heaven and Salvation, when I gave consent To tear the bowels of an Innocent With lingering poisons of themselves too strong, But that their working God put off so long; That darker deeds (by this) the light may try, Which now perhaps in worse bosoms lie. To this Indictment holding up my hand, (Fettered with Terrors more than Irons I stand) And being asked what to the Bill I say, Guilty I cry. O dreadful Sessions-Day! His third for raising of Spirits etc. IN rushes then a heap of Accusations, For all those Godless damned Abominations, Raised by the black Art, and a conjurers spells: As to call Spirits even from the deepest Hells, To fetch back thieves that with stolen goods are gone, And calculate nativities: such a one Credulity of fools and women made me, And to that glorious infamy betrayed me. A Cunning man, a Wise man were my style, Art knew I none, nor did I ever reach A bough of learning's tree; what I did teach To others, or did practise, it was all Cheating, false, apish, diabolical. To this being likewise asked, what I can say, I guilty cry. O dreadful Session's day! This devils coat to my body made I fit, Brave was the outside, threadbare was the wit. His judgement. FOr these thick Stygian streams in which thoust swon Thy guilt hath on the laid this bitter doom; Thy loathed life on a tree of shame must take A leave compelled by Law, ere old age make Her signed passport ready. Thy offence, No longer can for days on earth dispense. Time blot thy name out of this bloody roll, And so the Lord have mercy on thy soul. His speech what he could say for himself. O wretched Caitiff! what persuasive breath Can call back this just sentence of quick death? I beg no boon, but mercy at God's hands, (The King of Kings, the Sovereign that commands Both soul and body) O let him forgive My treason to his Throne, and whilst I live, jebbits and Racks shall torture limb by limb, Through worlds of Deaths I'll break to fly to him. My birth day gave not to my mother's womb, More ease, than this shall joys, when e'er it come. My body mould to earth, sins sink to Hell, My penitent soul win Heaven, vain world farewell▪ A Funeral Elegy, upon the untimely Death of the honourable Knight Sir Thmas Ouerburie, who was poisoned in the Tower. WHy in this world to live should men desire, Since death so many ways our lives expire? What happiness hath man upon the earth, But mountain misery for Molehill mirth? A moment's joy, mixed with an age of woes, Each drop of comfort floods of cares o'er flows. For 'tis decreed by inevitable Fate, The greatest men are not most fortunate. The head that wears a Crown, wears many cares, The which (before old age) makes hoary hairs. And humane honours like a fading flower, Which flourisheth, and fadeth in an hour. The mean estate doth only longest last, Not being subject to each wandering blast Of ticklish Fortunes everturning wheel, Whose fickle turnings, oft makes Greatness reel. If all the winds, East, West, and North and South, Should raging burst from blustering Eol's mouth, The lowly shrub stands ever rooted fast, When lofty Pines and Cedars down are cast. And though the mighty oft the weak oppressed, Of all estates, the mean sleeps most in rest. Thou worthy OVERBURY, to thy Hearse I consecreate this sad lamenting Verse. Hadst thou been some unlearned rustic hind●, Hadst thou been basely borne, and base inclined: Hadst thou had nothing in thee that was good So soo●e foul murder had not sucked thy blood. But being in all parts a man complete, Great in regard, in goodness far more great, Who like a Star in Britain's Court did shine Learned in the Laws, both Human and Divine, A Scholar, full of Gentlemanlike parts, Whose noble carriage won a world of hearts. That Arts like painful Bees did daily strive, To fill with sacred love his learned hive. Which thou (as did befit thy worthy worth) With admiration often wouldst power forth: So courteous, valiant, sober, and so wise, And one that (fawning) could not temporize, So well proportioned, of such comely feature, So fully fraught with a true honest nature, So hopeful, and so loving, and beloved, Whose life and actions every tongue approved, That expectation marked him out to be A man of absolute Integrity. Of Zeal, Capacity, and Eminence, To serve his God, his Country, and his Prince. But Satan that old enemy of man, As he with Abel's murder first began, He still hath spewed from out his damned den, Inhuman thoughts in bloody Caine-like men. And as the blood of that first slaughtered Saint, For vengeance to jehovah made complaint: So did the blood of OVERBURY cry For Justice to the Throne of Majesty. Oh Physic, great preserver of man's breath. Heavens Habeas Corpus against dismal death. Most honourable treasury of health, Renowned Pillar of each Commonwealth: Lives loving Champion, how art thou abused, When poison's with thy Antidotes infused? But this unusual damnable abuse, No bleamish is to lawful Physics use, No more than Phoebus' glorious beams are soiled, With shining on a stinking dunghill moyld. Thus to thy praise, whose praise do●h pass my skill▪ (My poor unlearned, most obsequious quill) Do offer these poor slender lines of mine, Unworthy for that worthy worth of thine. Which though thy soul be in eternal rest, Thy friends may thank me, for I did my best. FINIS. I. T. REaders, you that are desirous to see the reward of the Adulterer and the adulteress, paid by Gods own hand: there is a little Table called the Spectacles, where you may see it more at large.