THE CELESTIAL PUBLICAN.  
A Sacred Poem: Lively describing the Birth, Progress, Bloody Passion, and glorious Resurrection of our SAVIOUR.  
THE SPIRITVALL SEA-FIGHT.  
The Mischievous Deceits of The WORLD, The FLESH, The Vicious Courtier.  
The JESVITE.  
The DEVIL.  
Seven several Poems, with sundry Epitaphs and Anagrams.  
By Nathanael Richards Gent.  
COELUM CUPIO.  
LONDON, Imprinted by Felix Kyngston, for Roger Michael. 16●●.   

THE AUTHOR.  

N o man so high, but ere he die may fall.  
All Flesh is frail, all subject unto thrall;  
T her's no content on Earth, none certain bred  
H ealthfull; to day we live, to morrow dead.  
A rt, nor Promotion, mends not each man's state,  
N or are the Greatest Men most Fortunate.  
A duancement's but a Smoke, Delight a Toy,  
E ache glit'ring Pomp, each Soul seducing joy,  
Like Hellbred Poisons work the Souls annoy.   

R eiect all lewd, vile, vain affecting pleasure,  
I ntend thy future good Celestial Treasure,  
C ontest with Sin; Heavens holy Armour wear,  
H e that will conquer, he must Patience bear,  
A t such rare Combats; Sacred aid is sent  
R especting Man, all danger to prevent,  
D ear is the Love of God, in him delight,  
S eke Heavenly joys, those comforts infinite.    

TO THE HEAVENLY LOVER OF DIVINE POEMS.  
GOod Books, Good Minds best please, where bad Minds be,  
Desert shall still be railed at, Vice pass free,  
Envy, Debate, Pride, Flattery, and a whore;  
The Vicious minded Fool, minds nothing more.  
Harlots, for hot sinne-offerings shall find  
Favour, and Friends, to them the World is kind,  
But when the wealth of Souls, in Virtue's Line  
Levels Man's crooked Thoughts, to thoughts Divine.  
'Tis slighted then; Most Worldlings, like false Friend,  
Love not for Virtue, but their own base Ends.  
Times Lordly Churl, deep read, in Errors School,  
Esteems Plain-dealing, but a Virtuous Fool:  
Therefore to thee, whose Sacred Soul desires  
Celestial Solace, Heavenly Holy fires.  
To thy Religious thoughts, apt to prevent,  
And fly from Sin; to thee I this present.   

To the Reader.  

Here's no Luxurious Verse to please the Ears  
Of Whorish Minds (stranger to blessed Tears.)  
No Court-Confounding Compliment, nor style  
Offeigned Poesy, nor base Flatties' Guile:  
Soule-suffering Grief for sin, I here express;  
Wishing to All, Immortal happiness.   

True Penitence gains Heaven; throws Sinners down  
To raise them up to an Immortal Crown.   
Devoted to Your Virtues, NATHANAEL RICHARDS.   

THE CELESTIAL PUBLICAN.  

I That have imperfections on my head,  
Past Stars in number, or those sands that spread  
The vast Seas bottom; shall not I confess,  
How oft 'gainst God, I desperately transgress,  
Put off Repentance still from day to day,  
Abuse his Mighty Patience, still delay  
His dread Command; And like a senseless Sot,  
Unmindful of his Mercies, mind them not:  
No sooner do I find a good thought take me,  
But from that Virtue, Flesh and Blood do shake me,  
The longer life, the more I sin, and fall  
From bad to worse, from worse to worst of all.  
Let others boast their goodness, for my part,  
Wretch that I am, I have a sinful Heart.  
So tide and bound, fettered and chained within  
So strong a Prison; such a Maze of sin,  
That 'tis as fare unlikely for me worm  
 to wind out, as for to raise a Storm,  
Or slack a Tempest; Works of Wonder stand,  
Fare from the Reach of Mortals weak command,  
None but the Hand of God, his special Grace,  
Can pull me forth the Dungeon of disgrace.  
'Tis God that frees poor Man from all the Vices  
Of this World's wicked villainous Entices.  
And shall I then, in impious ways uneven  
Offend so good a God; Defend me Heaven.  
My trembling Conscience tells me, I have been  
A very fearful Sinner, Slave to sin;  
Of all Men, most unworthy of Salvation;  
My sins deserve Heaven's wrath, Hell & damnation,  
Yet Mercy, Mercy Lord, Mercy I crave,  
Shield my sad soul from th' infernal Grave.  
* Strangle my growing sins in their beginning,  
* demolish Lord in me Custom in sinning.  
* For that is such a kind of  thing  
* Men dream not on; O 'tis a damned sting!  
* And thus it creeps on us; thoughts that are bend  
* To Evil, get Delight, Delight Consent,  
* Consent draws Action, Action Custom breeds,  
* And as the Sick-Man, 
Simile.  (whom his own death feeds)  
* Custom at large, taketh sense of sin away,  
* Sends souls to Hell, when 'tis too late to pray,  
The Doom supernal never finds return,  
To call thee back to Grace; think on't, or burn.  
Think Heavens sweet, silver, Saints-Bell, toll all in,  
To fright thee every Morn from ugly sin.  
Let Mercy, every Evening (which does keep  
Thee from Day-dangers, Death resembling sleep)  
Be to thy soul a Prayer Book, t' imprint  
Tears in thine Eyes; Grief in thy Heart of flint.  
Be it so, heavenly Father, unto me,  
To me, and every one; Make us to see  
And shun Sin's Custom; with thy sacred wings  
Guard us from Danger, Blessed King of Kings,  
Thou that at Home, abroad, at Sea, on land,  
Here, there, and every where, didst ever stand,  
My sure Protector, 'gainst griefs infinite,  
Danger, the jaws of Famine, World's despite,  
Sickness, sad discontent, when I and Care,  
Shaken hands with sorrow's Minion deep despair,  
At that most wretched Time (my thoughts locked up  
Beyond all hope of help;) then Mercies Cup  
I freely tasted; blessed be thy Name  
To me (my Gracious God,) prove still the same.  
In my Extremes of grief, I called on thee,  
Merciful God, and thou didst set me free,  
Thou wert my only Comfort in distress,  
Food, Raiment, all my Cure in heaviness,  
My true Physician in unruly madness,  
Celestial Music, in my saddest sadness,  
Though all the World forsake me, God is kind,  
He solace gives to my disconsolate mind,  
O be the same for ever, may no ill  
Seduce my soul to disobey thy will.   

While others careless of their Souls true health  
Greedy (like Hell) hunger for worldly wealth,  
Preferment, Pride, th'insatiate Devil, Lust,  
Luxurious Fare, and vainly put their trust  
In glassy Glory, cozening State behaviour,  
In valour Conquest, and Monarchal favour.  
While Souls thus err, O thou the Lord of light,  
Make me heaven's Champion, Virtue's Favourite.  
* Field honour's but a Vapour, the sound breast  
* Puts on Church Armour; Faith, and sleights the rest.  
* In love to Virtue, and true godly fear,  
* Dwells Honour, not in Darts, Bow, Sling or Spear,  
* Not in vain Beauty, Strength, the Pride of Wit,  
* Presuming Riches, Learning, Valour, Credit,  
* High Birth, Nobility, nor Gravity,  
* Humanity, nor yet Virginity;  
* But in the Humble Soul, whom holy Story  
* Speaks, to maintain God, and the Gospel's Glory,  
* The King, and Kingdom's safety, Church's Peace,  
* The Virgin's Right, Widows, and Fatherless:  
* These are the Noble steps which ever wait  
* On Virtue's Court, 'tis the true way of State  
* That never fails (as sacred Scripture saith)  
* The humble, meek, Religious Knights of Faith.   

O Heavenly Father, give me Grace to fly  
Delight in sin, or suffer me to dye:  
* Pleasure's are poisons to this Soul of mine,  
* There's no true joy on earth; but what's divine.  
Lord, teach me for to prise this world at naught,  
Upon thy Blessedness be all my thought.  
* Make me (my God) in hate to impure lives,  
* Kick at that Life, which Life of Heaven deprives.  
Make me to feel, those wont holy fires,  
Which rapt my soul in sanctified desires,  
(Ravished all sense) and with admired amaze,  
Exposed me, to that blessed burning blaze  
Of glorious contemplation; thoughts divine  
Then like Heaven's Tapers in my Soul did shine; 
Simile.   
But now that Glory fails; my soul hath served  
Folly so long; 'tis ready to be starved.  
Dark sins desire hath dimmed the Crystal sight,  
Of Meditation, turned my Day to Night,  
To dismal Night; where only I may see  
Myself alone, stand like a desolate Tree  
Forsaken of all her Leaves; the Fruit dead,  
And every Branch of comfort withered.  
Naked performance, of Heaven's sacred Word,  
Pulls Hell on me; Me thinks the flaming sword,  
Of God's just vengeance, houer's o'er my head,  
Th' Element burns, 
Simile.  the stars like molten Lead  
Threaten destruction; while distressed I,  
Like a condemned wretch sentenced to die,  
Stand quaking at the Horror, dreadful woe  
Shivers my sinful soul. What shall I do?   

Pity me King of Thunder, Heaven, and Earth,  
Merciful Maker; thou that didst give me Birth,  
Thou that canst muster Angels in the sky,  
To safeguard souls from black impiety,  
Thou that dost feed, and cloth, and still persever  
To give me Health, be merciful for ever.  
I that am poor, weak, feeble, and too apt  
By the world's whorish ways to be entrapped:  
I that am slothful, dull, and negligent,  
Unmindful of thy dread Commandment,  
Beseech thy pardon, forgive my coldness  
In serving thee; pardon that sinful boldness.  
Pardon all idle prate; sins rotten talk,  
Let not my steps tread that accursed walk  
Which leads to lewdness, base delight in Pleasure,  
Desire of Pomp, Vainglory, Tottering Treasure.  
Deal not, O deal not with me as my merit  
Truly deserves; drive out the ugly spirit  
Of all uncleanness from my filthy flesh,  
(My drooping soul with sanctity refresh.)  
Shroud me beneath thy sacred Countenance,  
Give me thy Servant David's Repentance,  
The Patiency of Job, Paul's Purity,  
And soul-afflicted Peter's weeping eye:  
With holy Tears, Lord, make me to reject  
The sin I (sinne-sicke sinner) most affect.  
Hear me (Miraculous Majesty) and give  
A Period to my cares, let me not live  
Frustrate of heavenly thoughts; O send redress  
(Thou bidst me write) keep me from Idleness,  
From all ill Company, All ways unjust,  
Sin, Satan, and the Labyrinth of Lust,  

Simile.  * Like Joseph (Mighty Maker) make me fly  
* The tempting Baits of Beauty's burning Eye.  
* Divert my sad distressed soul from vice,  
* And Ravish me with love of Paradise.  
* Let not my wandering Eyes swim in the fire  
* Of Lust-stung looks; nor let the lose desire  
* Of woman's naked Paps, burn out mine Eyes  
* With senseless gazing; make me to despise  
* All base desires, sins of ill-governed youth,  
* All wicked Customs, 'gainst thy sacred Truth.  
Suffer me, Worm unworthy, not in vain  
To call on thee, let me some comfort gain  
Or kneel for ever; happy man were I  
To kneel, and pray, and praying thus to die.  
My Arms are spread, come sempeternall Essence,  
Ravish my soul; come blessed penitence,  
Give me a thousand stabs; my soul has need  
Of many thousand Tears; then let it bleed  
Pierce, pierce my stubborn Heart; make that the Inn  
Of Grace, which yet is but the house of sin.   

At my dull follies I'll no longer wink,  
Sorrow shall be my Pen, sad Tears my Ink,  
Misery my Paper, whereon I'll write  
The sorrows of my soul, my Youth's delight,  
My Paths of Pleasure, prodigal expenses,  
My scarlet Crimes, and all my black offences.  
This Book I'll Dedicate unto my Heart,  
My Heart, chief Actor, in sins Tragic part,  
My Heart unprincely, Revelling within  
My Body, that Banqueting House of sin.  
There chained to th' Magic Music of freewill,  
Riots in poisoned pleasures, lewdly ill.  
All that belongs to th' Body every part,  
(My soul alone excepted) serves my Heart,  
Best pleased, and best at ease with pleasures Bane,  
Most glad, to be most bad, and in that vain  
Traitor to Truth; Each Limb a Mortal Foe,  
To work my universal overthrow,  
And to that end, with rude insatiate eyes,  
Run all a whoring after vanities,  
Soule-damning Banquets, Pomp, bewitching joy,  
Forsake eternal Glory for a Toy;  
Debarring hope of Heaven, and sweet Salvation,  
For moment pleasure, liquorish damnation.  
O false, false Heart, false to thy dearest friend,  
Wound me no more, for pity make an End.  
I pity thy black life, nor can forbear  
For thee, to shed, many a bleeding Tear.  
Thou art my foe, and yet to see thee feed  
Fat for Hell's shambles my poor soul does bleed.  
Bleeds inward, undiscerned of any Eye,  
Except my God, and my own misery.  
What shall I do? fain would I shun the sin  
My frailty most delights to wander in:  
And yet I cannot; when I strive 'gainst vice  
To stand most firm, I'm tripped up in a trice.  
* Oh what a misery 'tis to have a mind  
* For to be truly honest, well inclined  
* And not to be suffered; such is the state,  
* Of my sad bleeding soul unfortunate.  
Poor soul, that life's like Fortune's football tossed,  
In hazard every minute to be lost,  
As is the ship 'mong Rocks, 
Simile.  steered by the skill  
Of an imperfect Pilat's  will.  
Which, like a fruitless naught respected fly, 
Simile.   
Careless of danger, pain or misery,  
Cutting the Air, flies at self-will so fast,  
Till in the Spider's web 'tis caught at last.  
So pleasure, soothing pleasure, doth beguile,  
The sinful Body with her covert guile,  
Being the only cause, when life for breath  
During her short space, vainly strives 'gainst death,  
Then like a mastless Bark in stormy weather, 
Simile.   
The soul drives up & down, it knows not whether,  
At last, for life misled, (sins that excel)  
Body and soul at once, jump into Hell.  
* O thou the King, of those eternal fires  
* Which spangle Heaven; good God grant my desires  
* Infuse in me thy Grace, or I shall stray  
* And so become a fearful Castaway.  
* Help, or I sink, below the low degree,  
* Of sin's extremest infelicity.  
* Come, come Lord jesus, O come thou and give  
* Help to my helpless soul; I that do live  

Simile.  Like the distressed Bird, trapped in a Snare,  
Caught by a lime-twig flying from the Air;  
In which distress, for comforts sweet relief,  
Poor Innocent, with wings adds woe, to grief,  
So fares my soul, striving sins snare to fly  
Forced by deceit, life's snared in penury.  
Accompanied with comfortless despair,  
With sobs, and groans, and self-consuming care  
In Sable sorrow sits, there sighs, and mourns, 
Simile.   
Wastes, and consumes, like a spent Taper burns  
Only for a slash, ready to go out,  
With multitude of sins circled about.  
The very thought does shake me, and the fear  
Rouse my flint Heart, 
Simile.  that like a frighted Deer  
Amazed stands; attaints mine eyes of treason,  
Those eyes exclaim, against the eyes of reason,  
The eye of reason, blames their wanton sight  
As over ruled by foolish appetite,  
Each guilty of their fault, to sin stand thrall,  
No Limb but helps, th' oppressed soul to fall,  
* Man at the best, his virtue's very little,  
* His state a Bubble, at the strongest most brittle,  

Simile.  * Man's life is like a Game at Tables, where  
* A good chance happening; if you do not there  
* Mend it with some good play; the sad Games loss  
* Will vex thy grieved soul, prove the sole cross  
* To all thy comforts; All quietness than  

Simile.  * Leaves thee; and like a drunken servingman,  

〈◊〉  * Which at his masters most need goes astray,  
* Is ever sure, still to be out o'th' way.   

What shall I do? Where, whether shall I fly?  
Here, there, I know not where, lie down and dye,  
Up soul to Heaven, there get a glorious Crown,  
I am too weak, too vile, sin pulls me down  
O my unworthiness, my shame, my sin  
When shall I shake thee of, when, when begin,  
No; wilt not be, can I not do the good  
I would? Must I be ruled by flesh, and blood?  
Weep on, weep on, dissolve hard heart of flint,  
Melt, melt thou stony rock, Tears never stint  
Drop Marble Mount, drop to a crimson flood,  
Sink my sins in Seas of penitent blood.  
Come folded Arms, and you sad Eyes, sad Heart,  
Come Soul oppressed with sorrow, play thy Part,  
Haste to some gloomy-grove, there all alone  
On the green mantled Earth, sigh, sob, and groan,  
Spend precious time, with sacred thoughts that bears  
Heaven in their Eyes, true Virtue in their tears,  
Complain I will to fortune, not that whore  
Which makes lean art, & pale-faced wisdom poor,  
I'll not complain to her; but to that Ens  
Almighty Fortune; in divinest sense,  
Grovelling on Earth for sin; I'll cast forth groans,  
Sighs shall convert to Tears; Tears into moans.  
Then will I start, from ground my Body raise  
Shoot mine Eyes upward; against Heaven I'll gaze  
Think on my God; my God, whose sacred Will  
I have abused; my God most just to kill  
Damn Soul, and Body, my rememb'rance blot  
Out of the Book of Life, I that forgot  
(In midst of all vain joys, Intemperate healths  
Lose wanton chambering lascivious stealths.)  
Allseeing Heaven; a God so good, so great,  
He that to feed us with Spiritual meat,  
took humane shape; came down from Heaven, 
The Nativity of Christ.  to Earth  
Entered the World; at whose soule-saving Birth  
The everlasting gates of Mercy stood  
Open to all; His hour of flesh and blood,  
Turned night to day, Heaven's glittering Angel came  
And to poor men, poor shepherds did proclaim  
A Saviour borne, sin's fury to control,  
Never was such sweet music to the soul,  
Before his coming; the Nativity  
Of Christ brings mortals firm felicity.  
* Mild was his Birth; his Life creations wonder,  
* His death, death's terror; O thou God of thunder,  
* Master of man's salvation, all the Earth  
* Reaped plenitude of joy, when thou tookst Birth,  
* Mortals were big with sin, villainy ripe,  
* Hell's dreadful Dragon, ready for to gripe  
* Souls in his ugly paws; But than stepped in  
* Our Saviour; he redeemed lost souls, whose sin  
* Gave them to death eternal; blessed hour,  
* Blessed Nativity, thrice blessed power,  
* Me thinks at thought of thy Nativity,  
* I lie perfumed in Immortality.  
When Christ was borne, all were new borne again,  
Near came like Music to the hearts of Men:  
Angels for joy, clap their Celestial Wings,  
And every Saint, every Crowned Martyr Sings  
(Magnifico Deum) to mortals peace  
The calm of Conscience, and shall mortals cease  
Their glad expressions? No, let hate to vice  
Dissolve sins cloud; Echo to Paradise  
Our Saviour's welcome, let us never more  
Lie down to our dishonours like a whore 
Simile.   
Dead to good council; never let dark deeds  
Defile the Soul; Let's root up all the seeds  
Of Pride, Lust, Envy, Hatred, and in place  
Plant wisdom, meek humility and grace.  
* Christ's Glory came clothed in humility,  
* To teach our Hellbred Pride, Civility.  
* Born of a Virgin, came to the world a stranger  
* His Palace an Oxe-stall, his Bed a Manger:  
O'er whose obscure abode, Heaven's Taper shined;  
And to the souls of wisest Men divined  
Great Nature's wonder; pointed them the way  
To find the world's Redeemer; they obey  
Made towards that fixed star which in the sky  
Was the blessed Virgin Mary's Canopy.  
To Bedlam they came; there with hearts glad  
Adored the King of Glory, poorly clad.  
Nor could blood thirsty Herod's strict command,  
Nor bloody butchering of Babes withstand  
His blessed Birth; whose admiration brings  
joy to the world; blessed be that King of Kings,  
He that to cure sins Leaporous disease  
A Heavenly Progress fetched, the Geste these:   
CHRIST'S Setting forth from's Celestial PALACE, 
The Adamant of Glory.  Lodged in the Virgin's Womb; from that blessed PLACE, To th' Manger went; from Manger to the Cross; From Cross departed (with his dear Blood's loss) Unto the SEPULCHRE; there made all even, And so Returned, Gloriously Home to HEAVEN. To HEAVEN, from whence LORD let thy SACRED FIRE, GLISTER upon my SOUL, whose sole Desire, Begs MERCY for my Sins, makes known to THEE, THOU that hast RAVIHST ALL, hast Ravished Me.  


The Passion of Christ.  Thirty three years Christ's sanctity did were  
The Cloth of our Redemption, and did bear  
Times heavy yoke of crosses, that we might,  
With ease sustain all wrongs; in him delight  

Simile.  * Like Martyred Stephen, whose loud crying groans  
* Gained Heaven i'th' middle of a storm of stones.  
* Love lead him on; in Death this Saint was Taster,  
* And first, that followed his Immortal Master  
* Christ Crucified; whom none that truly hears,  
* But sure 'twill thaw their frozen hearts to tears.  
* Christ's whole Life was a Martyrdom, and Cross,  
* Active, and Passive, and his dear bloods loss  
* The Tragic Part, the bloody Scene which none  
* But he himself must Act, and Act alone.  
* Alone for us, (Heavens Glorious Lamp of Grace  
* Grovelling on Earth) fell on his sacred Face,  
* He that is ever Lord of Mercies seat,  
* Watered the Garden Cedron with the sweat  
* Of bloody Brows, and Body; heaviness,  
* And deadly sorrow, seized his blessedness:  
* A kiss betrayed him, and a perjured lie,  
* Was the Reward for all his purity,  
In scorn, this Prince of Heaven was buffeted,  
Spighted, spitted at, Extremely scourged,  
Yet Torture ne'er moved him; he was silent,  
In all his bitter sufferings patiented.   

Never did Earthly King, (free from annoy)  
Receive his Crown, nor with a greater joy  
Went to his Coronation Dignifide  
As Glories King; went to be Crucified.  
In him the jews derided Majesty,  
Condemned Innocence, scourged Piety,  
* Head, Hands, Side, Feet, they to the Cross did Fix  
* Made him all o'er a bloody Crucifix.  

Simile.  * Satan and Death like saucy sergeants went  
* To seize on him; to shear that Innocent  
* Blessed Lamb of God; But he who was to save  
* All that believed; they had no power to shave,  
* His Patience, Death, and Devil's force did quell  
* He took the Great Leviathan of Hell  
* With the hook of his Cross; made him his slave  
* Captived the Devil, and subdued the Grave,  

Simile.  * Like a long looked for Book, Christ in the Press  
Was kept, to come in Print forth, for to bless  
* Our souls with that Salvation which does give  
* New Life, whereby Eternally we live.   

INRI.  
Suffer'dst the Crown of Thorns t'empale thy Brain, 
The Key of Heaven.   
Which down thy Cheques forced showers of Blood to rain:  
Suffer'dst the piercing LANCE, that like a FLOOD  
Sluiced, from thy wounded Side, thy precious BLOOD  
Nailed to the Cross; there CHRIST lost Souls to win,  
Suffered, the World's huge ponderous weight of Sinne.   

Dear Saviour sweet, sweet was thy dear Compassion,  
Dear expressed in that most bitter PASSION;  
When whipped and scourged, thou mildly suffer'dst all,  
Blows, Buffets, Blasphemies, VIN'GER and GALL,  
Insulting Foes Reproach, Mocks, Scoffing, Scorn,  
Thy SINEWS to be Racked, thy BODY Torn.   

Heaven's Wrath, Hel's Rage;  
On CHRIST, all Torments fell  
To save our Souls from those blue flames in Hell.  
At which th' amazed EARTH with horror shaken,  
Darkness possessed the WORLD, Day Light forsook.   

INRI.  
CAN muddy Mortals mind their Actual EVILS,  
And not Christ's SVFF'RINGS? (Such resemble Devils:)  
HAPPY the MAN, whose sacred SOUL is bend,  
FOR Christ's ENDURINGS, firmly to REPENT,  
What Tongue? What Pen? Not all Man's Wit can tell  
CHRIST'S Torments; they exceeded pains in Hell:   

Her wont course; the Sun obscured his Light,  
At Death of JESUS CHRIST; that bloody sight  
Made HELL to quake; Devils with Admiration,  
Tremble to see the Cause of MAN'S Salvation!  
Oh the rich thought, strike, strike amazing Thunder,  
Shake Nature's Frame; this impious Age with wonder!   

And all for MAN,  
Ingrateful, wretched MAN,  
Are we not bound, to love and fear Him than?  
O, yes, to spend whole hours, days, months, & years  
In true Repentant Showers, and Floods of Tears.   
Blessed, Blessed, O Blessed, Be that Divinity, 
The PYRAMID OF Paradise.  Three Sacred Persons GOD in Unity, WHOSE glorious Ravishing Resurrection, Restored Us (lost) to Grace, Oh PERFECTION! Purify thou my Soul, my Heart, my Mind: Snatch me from Earth, to Heaven make me inclined, Wholly to Thee, (All worldly Pomp despising) Fix my THOUGHTS ever, On thy Blessed RISING: Give ME A Sempeternall Reverence, To Thy ALL-glorious high Omnipotence. I that am clogged with sin, & wretchedness,  thoughts hunting after Worldliness;) Thy Blessed Protection crave, clear the great score, Of all my fowl misdeeds, that I no more So great a Sinner prove; Lord let my strife, Against my sins, Raise me from Death to Life. And from the Foot of ugly sin's disgrace, Mount, mount, my SOUL, to th' Pyramid of Grace.  

Did each one truly know the true delight,  
Wherein the wise contemplate Heavens rich sight,  
'Twould fright th'excessive sinners Godless face,  
Make him, as in a Glass see his disgrace,  
Tear op'e his eyes, that all amazed with horror,  
Trembling he may behold with dreadful terror,  
A guard of Furies, sucking at his soul,  
That he may see his sins, horrid and foul,  
(Live as in sulphurous flames;) discern his Evil,  
See the fierce Devil, and cease to be a Devil.  
Cease from damnation's Heir, licentious life,  
Cease from extremes in sin, soule-murdring strife,  
Abhor to study state with greater Zeal  
Than Zeal to Heaven, or the soul's Commonweal  
Abhor with solemn Oaths perjured to tear,  
And rack the Name of Christ dreadless of fear  
Wounding afresh (with trembling fear I writ)  
Wonder of Angels, that great God of Light.  
His wounds, with Oaths of wounds, flesh, blood & hart,  
(Horror of darkness) O blaspheming part!  
Too too much used 'mong Godless souls, who still  
Infinite good pay with infinite ill.  
As if no thought remained of future good,  
No tears for him, that shed his precious blood,  
But as the comely Actor, 
Simile.  whose fair part  
Upon the stage presents an honest heart  
For two hours' space, a Virtuous Noble Mind,  
His Scene expired, basely to vice inclined,  
Drink, Drabs, and Oaths, making no other use  
With his fair Part but with excess abuse:   

* O you that stand on pinnacles of state  
* Let not the World deceive you, lest too late  
* From off your slippery height you come in thrall,  
* o pash yourselves in pieces past recall.  
* Sell not far Lordships, to keep Ladyships,  
* Nor suck damnation from a strumpet's lips.  
* Touch not those Spells of Sparta, let 'em Rot  
* When Virtue rules in Man, Lust life's forgot.   

One only gem, that's all the store I have,  
Great of that little nothing, which shall crave  
Of Heaven's Great En's, not for myself alone,  
But for thee Reader, thee, and every one,  
Rareness of Rare example, and withal  
An everlasting sky of Grace to fall  
Upon our war on Earth, desiring Heaven,  
For ways on Earth are crooked, all uneven.   

* Save me, O save me, thou Eternal Terror  
* To damned souls, I do confess each Error,  
* The many thousand sins, unseen, unfelt  
Which long, too long in my hard heart have dwelled,  
* To thee, to thee, thou Euerliving being  
* Of an Eternal Majesty Allseeing,  
* With penitent Heart I come, I call, I cry,  
* Pardon my sins, help thou All-viewing Eye.  
* Look down Soule-saving sacred God of Truth  
* Forgive, th' infinite follies of my youth.  
* Shield me Divinity from Satan's Begins  
* Lord lay not to my Charge my Parents sins:  
* Glory of Goodness in thy Mercy hear me;  
* Let Hate, Revenge, nor Envy ne'er come near me,  
* Let neither Pride, nor hope of gain deceive me,  
* Nor pleasure, nor the want of Means bereave me  
* Of sense; least senseless wholly I despair,  
* And so become the wretched Child of care.  
* O sacred Saviour make me ever try  
* To live by honest Means, or let me die;  
* Though grief, and I, have well acquainted been,  
* Lord let me never grieve, but for my sin.  
* So shall thy Mercy, ne'er forgetful stand  
* While I have Tongue, a Pen, a Head, a Hand.    

THE SPIRITVALL SEA-FIGHT.  

Emperor of Angels, O thou King of Stars,  
Man's perfect solace 'gainst sins bloody Wars  
When I behold, with contemplation Eye  
The silver Spangles of thy Glorious sky;  
Me thinks in that Blew-paper-Booke of Heaven,  
I see ways of Mortals all uneven  
The wretched soul of Man in every Place  
Life's as in Hell on Earth, without thy Grace,  
Temptation on Temptation, past control  
allures the Body, to betray the Soul.  
Hell's Black Prince, Troops of spirits every day  
Invade my sinne-seidg'd-soule; Furies display  
Infernal Banners; while the Drum of Death  
Beats a dead March; and e'er I can take Breath  
Sounds shrill Alarms; hot Assaults begin  
The souls fierce Fight; muffled in cloudy sin,  
I live beset, Millions of spirits round  
Shoot at my soul; I stand on no firm ground  
But tread on earth, as on a Ball of Ice  
I cannot stand, nor stir for slip'ry Vice.   

My Soul's a Ship, tossed on the Mountain Seas  
Of this vast World, she never life's are ease;  
* Her sails are sighs, her Anchor deep despair,  
* Her Compass Error, her sad Pilot, Care;  
Fare of from safety's shore, floats on the waves  
Of fearful billows, Soul devouring Graves.  
Rough, blust'ring, stubborn storms, yield no relief  
On every , Each Tackling, hangs a grief:  
Death like a dark cloud, besets every Place,  
Here Rocks of Ruin, their Pirates lie in Chase  
In every corner, Mischiefs hourly lurk,  
* Pride fights against us like a furious Turk; 
Simile.   
* Lust like a treacherous Spaniard; murdering French,  
* Like an infected poison's loathsome stench,  
* Gluttony like a German, drunkenness  
* Like a Dutch Dun-kercker; whose impiousness  
* Styles him the Master Gunner, to give fire  
* To all sins black Artillery, Hell's Ire  
* Infernal chain-shot, All soule-murd'ring strife,  
To sink Man's weatherbeaten ship of Life,  
Which to gain Grace, no sooner weighs Anchor,  
Sets sail for safety, but strait sin's Canker,  
The devouring Devil, Pirate for Hell,  
Chase flies after, and with black Arts spell  
Commands to stay; sometimes with beauteous forms  
With songs of Sirens sometimes; sometimes storms.  
Such pitchy Tempests, to be night the way,  
As if the horror of the lattet day  
Frighted the World; so stops the soul from bliss,  
Shoots through, and through her, so she steers amiss.  
Then as in bloody Sea-fights Men may see 
Simile.   
Times sacrifice to valour, no man free  
From  danger; every one maintains  
The terror of the Fight (though with their brains  
Dashed in each others Faces.) Vital breath,  
Lost in a fight flame; blood, and death:  
Bullets, and Batteries, covers the ship all o'er  
Her dismal decks with horror, purple gore,  
And scattered limbs; so the soul's Pinnace  
In her spiritual fight sins does deface,  
Murders our best of thoughts, like raging Seas,  
Winds, storms & tempest drive us where they please.  
The poor afflicted soul, Satan so blinds,  
It knows not where she is; by whyzing winds.  
Now tossed toth' top of all the Azure Sky,  
Now tumbling as to Hell, with frighted Eye,  
Her Flag of sin's defiance Tempest-rent.  
Her Sails torn all to Rags, her Mainmast spent;  
All out of Order: tossing to, and fro,  
The soul distressed, knows not which way to go.  
With gentle calm, check Satan's black storm, Lord,  
We shipwreck else, Devils will come a Board  
Burn with Hell's wildfire, Flame, Ruin, Race,  
Blot our soul's hope, help Minister of Grace.  
Safeties in Heaven, in this uncertain Life  
Nothing but Hellbred quick sands, War, and strife,  
Soul-killing vapours, worldly vanities,  
Thick clouds of vice Perpetual miseries,   

There is a Voyage, to the Holy Land  
In which the Truth, our blessed Card must stand  
The Holy Ghost our Pilot to direct  
The steerage of our course from sins neglect,  
Tothth' Haven, of Heaven; that happy Port of Rest,  
Salvations Guard, true Cape of Comfort blessed.  
There, Heaven's bright Majesty, our Saviour sweet,  
Sits with the Hand of Mercy, for to Greet  
And waft us to him; O may all that stray!  
Sailing along the Coast of sorrow, Pray,  
Pray unto him, he'll guide their wand'ring Bark,  
Tempest tossed hourly in the dreadful Dark.  
If thou be Sea-sick call upon him, and he  
Shall soon with Health's sweet solace comfort thee;  
Rebuke the raging winds, Time's blackest storm,  
And to a calm, Skie-swelling Seas reform:  
No Rocks, Gulfs, Sands, nor Seas cloud-kissing waves  
Sins dreadful Sea-fright, nor the  braves  
Of Pirates, none shall hurt; let then thy care  
See thy weak vessel Rigged, well Maned with prayer  
And then launch forth, hoist sails, and when you spy  
The Cape of good hope, keep it in thine eye.  
Let holy thoughts, death threatening storms o'ercome▪  
That whatsoever chance there shall become,  
The vessel of thy Body being foul,  
Make sure to save the passenger, thy soul.   

* He valiant, only Virtuous is that can  
* Subdue his Sins; he's the true Noble Man,  
* there's perfect valour, he true glory wins,  
* He's the true Soldier, that subdues his sins:  
* Breaks through the pikes of sin, all fiends that are  
* In Hell, or Devils ruling in the Air,  
(* Forcing his way to Heaven despite all charms)  
* Enchantments, dead-sleeps, all soule-flayling harms)  
* Wrestling like Jacab, 
Simile.  constant in his fight  
* Mindful of his maiestick-makers' sight.  
To such belongs the Everlasting Crown  
Of sempeternall Glory, true Ronowne;  
Which to prepare thee for; cease to neglect  
Th' almighty's sacred service, let respect  
Fear and true Reverence to his precious Word,  
Be to thy soul that Helmet, Shield and Sword  
Too strong for Satan, all the fiery Darts  
Of Fiends and furies, Arm thy noble Parts  
Thy Soul, thy Heart, thy Mind, strive to fulfil  
(The Majesty of Heaven) his Divine Will.  
And like the cunning curious Architect  

Simile.  Earnest some goodly Building to Erect:  
(Breaking his sleep) wholly employs his mind  
On the drawn Model; which when he does find  
Exact, his Eye dwells ever then upon it,  
And his affection never driven from it.  
So when to thought we call our Saviour's blood,  
(That sempeternall platform of all good)  
Shed for our sins, Let it for ever dwell  
In the Idea of our Minds, so Hell,  
Sin, death, nor deadly  discontent,  
Can bar the Heavenly heart from true content.  
* What uggly worms are we that dare presume  
* To pawn our souls for pleasure, dare consume  
* Our Time on toys, when as we firmly know  
* Time shall decay; we cannot feed, nor go,  
* Nor promise life a Minute; we pass to bed  
* But Ignorant to rise alive, or dead.  
* Admit daylight approaches, and the morn  
* Invites thee forth? thou never mayst return:  
* Death by a thousand accidents does meet  
* Health, Wealth, and Beauty; stabs them in the street,  
* He that lest thinks of death, some falling Tile  
* Timber, or Stone, does suddenly beguile  
Him of his life, yea oft when he refrains  
And seeks to shun it, dasheth out his brains.  
These Tragic Truths (true causes of dislike,)  
Methinks should move us to repent, and strike  
A terror to our souls; force us to see  
Man's outward danger; inward misery  
Which like an unresisted roaring Tide  
Runs through our veins, and apts the blood to pride  
To all the sins that are, or ever were,  
O horrid ill! have we not cause to fear,  
To quake and tremble, when our dull dead Eyes  
(Drunk with the poisoned dreggs of sin) ne'er spies  
The mischievous perils, and the black affright  
That hourly wait, on the Spiritual fight.   

Fiends live at Sea, and Furies on the Land,  
* Gluttony for a Corporal does Stand,  
* Au'rice a Pioneer, Sloth you may spy  
* An idle Gentleman of a Company.  
* Wrath's the Sergeant, Envy the Colours gain,  
* Lust the Lieftennant is; Pride the Captain:  
These in the Heart of every one take Place  
Where cowardly soul's shun the blessed means of grace,  
Let us for ever then resist all Evil  
Wisdom commands us to defy the Devil;  
To combat with our sins; oppose temptation,  
Fight against Hell the Devil, and Damnation.  
This for a Caveat take, strive to do well:  
(Ingratitude to Heaven, picks open hell.)  
While Grace is offered then, Watch, Fast, and Pray:  
there's no prevention in the latter day.  
* None life's secure, that to his Vice life's friend,  
* A Vicious life, oft makes a vicious end.   

* Strengthen me, my Creator, make me fight  
* Thy HOLY BATTLE, let not the World's delight  
* Dissuade my soul; sweet jesus, for thy merits  
* Enable me, Rouse my dejected Spirits,  
* Uncharm Hell's charm, O Sacred God untie  
* My fettered Soul, let me not ever lie  
* Lulled in the Strumpet lap of deadly sin,  
* This Minute Sacred Saviour now begin  
* To give Release, and as thou didst provide  
* An Army of Angels, for Eliahs' guide,  
* Who (to secure him girt with Enemies)  
* Mounted his soul from worldly vanities.  
* So Heavenly Daystar, blessed jesus end  
* This my Design thy holy Angel send  
* To be my Guide, my Guard, my Sacred spell  
* 'Gainst all Enchantments, witchcrafts, death, & hell  
* So shall my Anthem every morning be  
* Glory of Heaven, show mercy unto me,  
* To me Times wretch, most wretched; vilely base  
* Wanting thy sacred aid, spiritual grace.  
* Remember not my frailties; make me to grow  
* Great in thy love, thou that dost truly know,  
* Of all the Blessings unto Mortals given  
* My chief desire on Earth, is Grace from Heaven,  
* The Blessing of th' Almighty Lord of Host,  
* The Father, the Son, and the holy Ghost,  
* Preserve, be with me, now, and for ever when  
* My Soul is most distressed, Amen, Amen.  
Spes mea Christo.    

THE WORLD.  

Vain is this World, this Strumpet World that can  
Yield nothing constant, Love 'twixt man & man,  
Which next his Maker, should be most respected,  
Is soon broke; and most of all neglected,  
Ingrateful, vile, the World's a very Whore,  
Proud, rich in Vice, in Virtue most, most poor,  
Misled by every vain Fantastic Toy,  
To forget God, bewitched with carnal joy;  
Bundles of Baubles, imbecility,  
Biles of Apparel; Botch Nobility:  
Lordships, Ladyships, Foolries and Fashions,  
Lust-panting Humours; ten thousand Passions.  
Rich Men, the more to blame, as this Age goes,  
Debar housekeeping to maintain gay ;  
A Rich Caroche, three hundred pounds a Gown,  
Thirty pounds a Smock, or their Wives will frown,  
There is no living with them, they must ride  
Where, when, and how they list in glittering Pride,  
High flashing burning Bravery, blind Eyes,  
Flint Hearts, dull Ears, deaf to all poor men's cries  
Such is the dullness of Mortality,  
And such the World's cold Hospitality,  
* Each dusty Magist'rate with Brib'rie fed,  
* One robs the living, another robs the dead,  
* A third the Arch-Theefe plays by cunning stealth,  
* Knave Knights by Patent rob the Commonwealth,  
* join with much, too much, ill injustice, he  
* Zodomiticall Lecher for a greedy Fee  
* Dares licence lust, glad if he may prevail,  
* (Suck wealth from prostitute Harlots;) never fail  
Man's mind which most his Maker should affect  
(With fear, and trembling, and that true respect,  
Belongs to his high Majesty) the Net  
Of sin so snares, we worthless worms forget  
God's Thunder-darting Vengeance, glorious state  
Still forget God, forget to contemplate  
With Ravishing Love, true love, pure heart, pure eyes,  
That's the defect makes hourly mischiefs rise,  
* Ambitious Lords Attired in Anicke shape,  
* joy in the ways of Lust, Murder, and Rape,  
* Lady's with charms, tricks, humours, that they have,  
* Abuse their Lords, dispatch them to the Grave.  
* The jealous Husband (mischievous in ill)  
* Through vain suspect, his constant wife to kill.  
* The careless Clergy man in his degree  
* Satan corrupts; makes for a golded fee  
The greedy Lawyer fed by Client's strife,  
Bribed angels take, for the true Angel life.  
Just judge, the unjust dusty Magistrate,  
Father the Son, the Son the Father hate,  
Brother, the Brother, prosecute to death,  
Quarrel for Toys; stop one another's breath.  
The world does hourly tempt fools worldly wise,  
The deceitful Tradesman, that seems precise,  
And is an arrant knave; to think the honey  
And only blessed life, still to get money.  
Mocks at the poor man's virtue, and in pride  
Styles him a virtuous fool; thus knaves deride  
The poverty of Men, which does as fare  
(In Heavenly wealth) transcend them, as a star  
The richest gem on Earth; But 'tis not so  
With the world's wealthy worldling; they say no,  
Rich enough, Honest enough; all they can  
Aims at the outward, not the inward man.  
* Povertie made a scoff, a scorn, a wind:  
* Gold smothers Virtue, blackest Actions blind.  
* Gold got in God's name, with an honest face,  
* Comes slow; but in the Devil's name apace.   

Such is the world's condition, Good Men's thrall,  
On Earth there's no true comfort, none at all.  
* The honest minded Scholar, shall ne'er lack,  
* Sorrow nor want of means to break his back.  
* The pitiful Soldier, in his greatest need  
* ha's his throat cut, he shall be sure to bleed,  
* The fair Gamester, for his mild square play.  
* Is soon cozened, sure to lose every day.  
* The faithful Lover, still is paid with hate  
* The more in love, the more unfortunate.  
Be rich or poor, in high or low Estate  
I'th' moderate Mean, or fully fortunate,  
Insatiate Mankind, ever discontent,  
Desires to live, but never life's content.  
In scarcity of Corn, for plenty cry,  
In plenty, strait forget God instantly.   

Such is Man's Erring soul, which ought to know  
* Life's, but a long sad Pilgrimage of woe, 
Simile.   
* An Ark of travel, shop of vanity,  
* Storehouse of trifles, Inhumanity:  
* A Field of Stones; a Path of thorny Pricks,  
* Meadow of Scorpions, Grove of Basilisckes.  
The World's unquiet rest, is all Man's foe,  
* Dangers attend us, where so ere we go.  
* Mischievous Deceits, Brawls, Quarrels, Fightings,  
* Falsehearted Neighbourhood, base backbitings.  
* Friendship's so faithless Ripe, full blown with evil  
* A friend to day, the next for gain proves Devil,  
The World's condition right; 'tis slave to sin,  
Beware of it; the worlds a cunning gin  
* 'twill entrap souls; call then to God for Grace,  
* Let grief for worldly Crosses, ne'er take place,  
* Never let sorrow run into extremes  
* Unless for sin; so shall Celestial Beams  
* Glorify thy Soul, make it Immortal,  
* Free it from ills; what ever can befall  
In this false promising World; this Maze of woe,  
Where wretched Worldlings know not where to go  
To wind them out; such are the various ways  
Of life oppressing Years, Months, Weeks and Days.  
As Prose ill read, abide too much misusing,  
Or Virtuous verse, when rogues have the perusing,  
* So fares it with the fair, and flourishing Line,  
* Of that sweet Heavenly strain, Poesy Divine,  
* Basely neglected by the Monster Crew,  
* Of Puff-Paste muddy Minds; that pish, and mew,  
* Make a wry, Close-stoole-face; a squint eyed glance  
* At Virtuous verse; (whose sad mischance,  
* Is to go unregarded,) when the crime  
* Of a lascivious, Bastard, Ballet rhyme,  
(* If bawdy enough) though ne'er so unfit  
* Wins favour, profit, and the praise of wit.  
* Read with delight, and much, too much required,  
* Copies sought after, greedily desired:  
* When perfect Poetry, Music to the soul  
Truth's firm Opposer 'gainst crimes filthy soul  
* (If Read) most read for fashion, small delight,  
* No comfort, no respect, but scornful flight.  
* And such is Virtue's Foe; the World's proud Minion,  
* In whom there's no true Love, no perfect Union.   

O Divine Poesy I lament thy state,  
To see thy Beauty disproportionate,  
So poorly in esteem, their's few I see  
Or none at all take true delight in thee.  
* This wanton World fare sooner will approve  
* joy in Pot-Poets, lousy Rimeing love,  
* Or wanton Ovid's strain, to itch the ear,  
* And stir the blood to lust, rather than hear  
* The Glorious Godly Aim of Noble Verse,  
* Which points at Heaven; and tells us of that fierce  
All-threatning Thunderer; he that descries  
Our secret deeds; those blackest Actions spies  
At which, amazed. my Muse stands wrapped in wonder,  
Beggs Mercy, Mercy, O thou God of Thunder,  
Or we shall shipwreck all; All too too blame  
Fare too unmindful of God's Sacred Name,  
His Blessings day, by day, his, great Mercy  
Long suffering, and Excelling Safety.  
Why should we worm's stand precious in Heaven's sight  
And not be damned to Everlasting Night,  
For our Fowl erring sins, sins that Excel  
The least whereof, merits the Pains of Hell.  
Hell that this instant Gapes, to seize this world,  
Deserving every moment to be hurled  
To endless Flames; but for the Excellence  
Of OUR FATHER'S, wonderful patience.  
O for the Pen of pure perfection,  
To character Man's imperfection,  
Open the blind, excessive sinner's eyes,  
(Force Tears for sin) make him, himself despise  
'Twere Music to the Soul; Divine delight  
Th'undoubt Path to pleasures infinite.  
Holla Commanding Empress of my Brain,  
Whether thus flings my Muse; divert thy Strain:  
Man is so fare from making God amends,  
That all his ways to wicked Actions bends,  
The World's a Rack, Time's Tenterhook to catch  
At minds most honest; makes a man a wretch:  
Thousands in want, finding no way to cure it  
Hazard the Gallows, rather than endure it,  
Mis'ry of Miseries, when Coin grows scant  
Man's fortune's Football, there's no woe to want;  
It dulls brave wits, when nothing else can do it;  
Tames, and makes  when Time brings us to it  
Want makes a man turn Slave, unto a Slave  
Scoffed, scorned, and flouted at by every knave,  
By every silken sodden-headed Fool,  
That never felt Heaven's scourge, nor Mis'ries' School  
Want, broacheth Mischief's never thought upon,  
Makes many an honest woman wanton.  
Want (like a Madman) makes Men swear and Dice 
Simile.   
Forget their God, turn Virtue into vice.  
Husband, and wife, the Sister, and the Brother,  
Compelled through want, devour one another.  
Merchants, Lawyers, yea some Divines will fall  
When want does sound Gripe, tw'ill try them all.  
And therefore (As an Antidote) be sure  
First that thou pray to God, that's the main Cure  
'Gainst Woluish-want; and then bethink thee sure  
Upon some honest means; 'twill new Create  
Thy understanding, put thee on a way  
With reverent Soul, on bended knees, each day  
To serve thy God aright; so he from falling  
Proves thy Protector, gives thee a Virtuous Calling  
Heaven grant the Honest Mind may never know  
The fierce Assaults of want, that Hell of woe,  
Torture of Mind, Murderer of Modesty,  
Highway to Theft, Cutthroat of Chastity.  
The Key of Whoredom, Bane of that true Love  
Which many boast, but few did ever prove.  
Many vow Love, for ever to be true  
Yet, when want comes, Whores are not more untrue.  
How sweetly did that Sacred Psalmist sing  
And run Times true Division on the string  
Of Misery, when he of God did crave,  
Nor Want, nor too much Wealth, lest in the Grave  
Of damned Despair, much want might hail him in  
And Riches Mount him to the highest sin:  
Lackey his way to lewdness, to mistrust  
God's Mercies, and to practise ways unjust  
A Holy fear seized on that blessed King  
To dread vows Dangerous Dart, Proud Riches sting.  
May the Good Man, still thirst for Mercies Cup;  
Climb jacob's sacred Ladder and mount up  
Into a fiery Chariot, Burning Zeal,  
Live a bright Angel in Heavens Common weal.  
Free from this World; whose Pomp, and Bravery,  
Is but a Land of Dirt, mere slavery,    

THE FLESH.  

Sin Acts foul Lust upon the Soul while it  
Stands Puritan Punck-like, willing to commit.  
The Flesh unto the Soul's a bitter Pill,  
(Sweet guilded Poison, Candid o'er to kill.)  
Hurried, Carocht in Pride, which glit'ring show  
Of swelling Pomp, whose sweet Effect is woe.  
Fleshly delights beget much Misery  
Makes Couples marry unadvisedly,  
Thinking Love tittle tattles, can feed their wishes,  
Love soon grows cold, where there is empty dishes.  
Of all the sins that are, when nothing can  
Ruin the Soul; the Flesh prevails with Man,  
His Eyes no sooner on Devotion wait,  
But in steps Carnal Concupiscence strait  
She's at his Elbow still, to itch him on,  
Th'unhappy path to his Confusion.  
* Chaste wives are Saints, women that wantonise  
* Witches, all poison, Hell is in their Eyes,  
In which, as in a Wilderness of woe,  
In striving to get out, on mad men go  
Stark mad, past sense, spite of all Books and Schools  
Ruin their Fortunes, prove the Slaves to Fools  
For an alluring Minutes trifling joy  
A lewd Insatiate Longing, a mere Toy.  
* O woman, woman, thy bewitching motion,  
* Fool's wisdom, mads reason, and blinds all devotion   

The Flesh (false Traitor like) strives to betray  
The Soul to Hell, for an Infernal Prey.  
Fleshly delight in Man, fears want of Breath  
More than his God; sin, or Eternal Death,  
* When just plagues come, them sin-sick sots can tremble  
* Make known to all the World, how they dissemble,  
* Pray with the lip, (not heart,) wrist sacred Text  
* To serve their own Ends first, and then God next.  
* Provide to live, in pestilent Times begin,  
* Take greater Care to fly from death, than sin.  
* there's nothing in our Flesh, but wickedness  
* Desire to live, and obscene wantonness.  
We forget now that dreadful dismal chance  
The Terrible Arrow of God's vengeance,  
When Death buried fare more, than th' Earth could swallow,  
And no man to the Grave his Friend durst follow,  
O why should Mortals wish, long life to live,  
What Comfort? what true joy does this life give?  
* there's nothing, not one thought that does us good,  
* But it is strangled strait, by Flesh and blood,  
* Holy Saint Paul, finding the Flesh Rebel,  
* desired to be dissolved, proud Flesh to quell,  
* And Sacred simeon sung 'gainst sins increase  
* Lord let thy servant now, depart in peace,  
Shall such soule-sweetning preparations be  
Forgotten quite; O blind security,  
* Life loving Fortunes, how yea puff Men up,  
* To hug their Follies, drink damnation's Cup.  
What is it we behold, in this vain life,  
But daily griefs and dangers; sin, and strife.  
* When my soule-erring Eyes, staring behold  
* A dangerous Strumpet, flame in glittering gold,  
* (And murdering Beauty; sparkling from her Eye  
* Burning Temptation) than me thinks I spy  
* My most apparent mischief, plainly see  
* How I ne'er strive to please my God, as she  
* Strives to please Men; such is the flaring Pride  
* Of the vain Flesh, it hurts on every side.  
There's nothing constant in us, if to day  
Virtue we love, to morrow Vice obey.  
Man at the best, is now become so frail  
As what cannot a spruce Quean, with a smooth Tail  
Make him believe; such witchcraft ever fly,  
Lust revels, in the Magic of her eye.  
That star-shooting, twinkling eye, does ne'er shine,  
But to the Ruin, of all thoughts divine.  
Twixt her alluring Lips, there life's a Spell  
To suck, and sink, and kiss a man to Hell.  
Touch but her Palms, there sins moist hand invite  
To a soule-damning Banquet; such delights,  
As often makes the wisest Man an Ass,  
Coward, and Fool, Times vicious Lookingglass.  
Liquorish entice pants on her Naked Breast,  
Snaring the timorous soul, to all unrest.  
And like a fevers Puse, t' increase desire,  
Beats thick upon the Heart, sets all on fire.  
What a notorious Coxcomb unto sin,  
Lust makes of Man, slave to a whores soft skin?  
What's a delicious Harlot but a Cheater,  
A poisoned Marmalade Box, which rots the Eater,  
A Harlot in her best of Bravery can  
Be but a kind of greasy dripping-Pan,  
So often put to th' fire, it proves a flame,  
So burns the Basting-Sticke, so Lust grows tame.  
Love is a chaste Queen, noble Wisdom's Bride,  
Lust a Hot Whore; for every Knave to ride;  
* Love is a Virgin sprung from Virtue's Race,  
* Lust an alluring Strumpet past all Grace:  
* Love is a virtuous wife, Times constant Woman  
* Lust a proud Harlot, the true Scourge of Man.   

The chief praise of a good wife does not lie  
In outward show, but inward Piety,  
If Virtue Rules her blood, she merits Love,  
If not, I will assure thee she will prove  
Like a deceitful Glass, where Man may see  
he's merely Cheated in her; O Misery  
* Man makes a woman proud with looking at,  
* A wondrous wanton toy, believe that,  
* Mark but the cunning Beauty seeing men gaze,  
* And yet not seems to see, note but her ways  
See how she tempts, with what a charming smile,  
Puts poison in her Eyes, eyes to beguile,  
Seducing eyes, aimed at Eternal Light,  
From Heaven, to look on Hell, prurient delight,  
Decked, trimmed, adorned, tricked up to pull men on  
With Pride of Eyes, to their confusion.  
Note the variety of all her charms,  
The Lazy, idle, stretching of the Arms;  
The Yawn, and then the Hey-ho, rolling eye,  
Sick stomach for the Act; O Luxury:  
Thy flames, in wanton women, strangely move,  
* She that delights in Lust, can never Love..  
Observe each gesture, how she takes a pride  
To itch the Bumbe; to frisk from side to side,  
Mop, mew, bite Lip, and wriggle with the Tail,  
There's not a joint about her that shall fail  
To catch at Man; be Icy cold as stone,  
she'll find a Trick to melt affection.  
In each behaviour life's a Venom snare,  
There's language in the curling of her hair,  
Eyes, Cheeks, Lips, Hands, no motive Limb so weak  
But serves to tempt; her very foot shall speak.  
she'll part each other in such dallying sort  
As if she'd do with th' Air for want of sport.  
Cross legs, and then with itching thighs & knees  
Open and shut the passage by degrees.  
Takes pleasure to be seen to wantonise,  
And is best pleased, to please Lechers Eyes.  
* Like those Nice Dames that will in outward show  
* Not wrong their husbands, no forsooth, O no,  
* Not for a World; stand on their honesty,  
* Quote Scripture, symper, look most modestly,  
* Swear and forswear, should the first husband die,  
* ne'er to wed more; Yet marry presently,  
* And than protest the single life temptation,  
* Fie out upon it, foe to Procreation,  
Thus seem in public pure; but in private  
More secretly open, more insatiate  
Than the hot Monkey ' th' venereal Mark  
Skip, frisk, and fling, do wonders in the dark.  
And like the Jesuit, think Lust done by stealth  
Dainty, secure, sudden, and done for health  
* The only Cure, Lust's raging flames to quench,  
* Is Aqua lachrimarum; that will stench  
* The wounds, proud Harlots so delight to make  
* On the poor soul of Man; make him to quake,  
* A feared to stand on that false Rock of Ice  
* Idleness, feeder of foul Carnal vice,  
* Black errors cloud, South fog, which rots the mind  
* Leapours the Souls, and is the Northern winde  
* The cause of all sins Storms, that dangerous Flood  
* Lust's surging Ocean swelling in Man's blood.   

O Devil desire of Lust, me, me, forsake;  
I charge thee hence, by him that made Hell quake  
By that Almighty One, in sacred Trine  
All Holy Spells, and Charms, Magic Divine.  
By that sweet excellent Sacred Purity  
(Sister of Angels) Virgin chastity.  
Fly from me all base thoughts; be just mine Eyes;  
And be yourselves, hate wantoness witcheries.    

THE VICIOUS COURTIER.  

Go, harmless satire, if thou smell a Rat,  
The Dog of Envy, of the black eyed Bat,  
For opening the fair Truth, misconstrue sense,  
Knit the base Brow, of daring impudence,  
And wisely like a Wolfe-like Advocate,  
Make thee dangerous, vile, a thing of hate,  
If honest satire such thou meet, defy,  
Spare not to give the Fools and Knaves the lie.  
There was a Time, when hadst thou played the knave,  
Thou mightst have flourished and have flourished brave.  
Fortune that whore, the World's alluring Gin  
She had been true, hadst thou been true to Sin:  
God knows I envy no Man for his Greatness,  
For his Prosperity, true Worthiness,  
I ne'er rejoiced at any Man's sad fall  
But wish a Virtuous happy life to all.  
This than my Comfort be, my mind appease,  
He that writes best, can never all Men please.  
None e'er could shun, the Censure of a Knave,  
Nor envy, of a currish Natured Slave.  
* 'Tis common now, without the cause discerning,  
* Fool's will find fault, with that, they have no learning.   

I writ not rash with Envy, to defame  
For some particular wrong, any man's name,  
Shall I at Fortune's Favourite grieved be,  
Because jove made me not, as great as he:  
O no; 'twere basely bad, black is the soul,  
Clogged with the horror of a sin so foul.  
Fairly my Muse appears, only to show  
What's lewdly ill; that Noble Minds may know  
The Vicious Courtier, he whose Mushroom sight  
Time styles ignoble, a mere Carpet Knight.  
A Lazy Lust-stung Lord, perjured, unjust,  
Slave to the Itching of his Mistress Lust.  
One that admires her bravery with Oaths  
Much wicked-wit consumes in gaudy :  
Which speaks him to the World a March-pain Man  
A very mighty Musk-cat; one that can,  
(To please State-strumpets) turn Capital Calf,  
Reverence her shooe-shadow, in her behalf  
Swear by Olympic jove, she's the Fairest  
That e'er breathed, most Excellent, the Rarest,  
Spending the Time in Commendations,  
In Sighs, Tales obscene, Visitations,  
Set Faces, and set speeches, picked from Plays,  
Acquaint apish Gestures; O the many ways  
(To please Madam Much-adoe) the rare Jewels,  
Music, Masques, Bawdy Banquets, Midnight-revels,  
Cocksparrow Humours, absurd Compliment,  
Which makes the Vicious Courtier confident,  
So ridiculous blind; that his brave Trull,  
(Times prurient Puppet) can persuade the Gull,  
After her Fonne to paint, powder the hair  
Which (catching Council) seeming passing rare,  
Duly the Ass observes, curiously Nice,  
Best pleased to imitate his Cockatrice,  
To smell all Amber, chiefly to prevent  
Lues Veneria, that infectious sent,  
Bred in his rotten Entrails, through th'excess  
Of stirring Meats, insatiate wantonness,  
That too too common Delectation,  
Poison of wholesome Recreation,  
(Sins slavish servitude, Excessive ill,)  
And Bane of Virtue; is much made of still,  
By such; who (rather then the Enterprise  
Of Noble true Knights lovely exercise,)  
Delight in painted outside, Costly fare,  
To study the fashion, look big and stare,  
Advance the head like a Malt-Horse, be proud  
And speak no matter what, so it be loud.  
Bountiful to Bawds, Mis'erable to th' poor,  
Sell all, whole Lordships to maintain a Whore;  
To stir up th' intellectuals of lose Ladies,  
To melt their Chastity, get Bastard Babies,  
Times were not so, when Worthies shined in Arms,  
Rejoiced in Virtue, not in the wanton Charms  
(Of brave Madam Vanity the Puppet)  
Lose Embrace of a consuming Strumpet,  
But bravely fought for Virgins in distress,  
Relieved poor Widows, and the Fatherless,  
Striving with fair, renowned, valiant Acts  
To chase Jniustice, punish evil Facts.  
O blessed performance Noble race of men,  
Worthy the praise of an Immortal Pen,  
Your Famous Deeds, past stars, recorded stand,  
For ever and ever, written by the hand  
Of sacred Truth, to the Eternal shame  
Of the sinne-branded Vicious Courtiers Name,   

Let him that notice takes, take this of me,  
Of Man of Money, or of low degree,  
Let not the hope of gain bring that to pass,  
Which makes a Dunce, observe a golden Ass,  
Nor let thy Mind, at any time accord,  
To be the Slave to an infamous Lord.  
His Love to Vice, all virtuous Acts repel  
As if no Plagues remained in spacious Hell.  
Engaged to mischief, and to villainy,  
To pleasure Vice, embrace iniquity,  
The Honour due for Virtue; that Reward  
Is naught (but base contempt) mere sleight Regard  
He that will get by such, must well dissemble  
And tell the Fools, they God's on Earth resemble  
Obsequiously the Parasite must play  
And hazard black Damnation every Day.  
Insinuate, and so wax knavish wise,  
Be a stamped Villain, learn to temporize,  
Swear, and forswear, deprave, inform, and lie,  
Change each hour Religion, perjured die.  
Plot, plot, and set friends hourly at debate,  
Cling to the surer side, the weaker hate,  
Turn Bawd at midnight, (Pander to the Itch  
Of an Adulterate Cloth of silver Witch.)  
Practise to know to mix with perilous Art  
The deadly Poison with the amorous Dart,  
Neatly obtaining, by times cunning skill,  
With Stibium, and Cantharideses to kill.  
Such sudden Fellows, nimble in Damnation,  
Are Vicious Courtiers greatest Estimation:  
When disrespected Honest men forlorn  
Live miserably wretched, Ragged and torn.  
As for the true bred villain, he shall lack  
Nor Gold, nor Cloth of Gold daubed on his back  
Yet when the Slaves too many secrets know,  
Oft with a Spanish Fig, they headlong go  
Hurried to Hell, the damned souls to tell  
What glorious villains, here on Earth do dwell.  
* That with a Politic strain, can make all sure  
* Murder, with murder; murder, to secure.  
* Drunk with Conceit, that greatness bears the sway  
* Safely to Act, what Villainy it may.  
* There is a Trick, such never fail to use  
* In which their dearest Friends, they'll most abuse  
* With fair pretext of Honourable Love,  
* In secure cunning, only to remove  
* And shift him forth into another Air,  
* To purge, and lessen, lest his Virtues rare  
* Should merit Kingly Favour, make him high,  
* Advanced in state to greatest Dignity.  
* The jealous thought whereof, to mischief bend,  
* Doth sund'ry secret practices invent  
* How to decline that growth, if none take root  
* Swift Mercury, a sudden dram must do't.  
* Others there are, that smiling Flatter all,  
Prove for to each, but Friend to none at all  
And such (believe't) make use of Time, and Place,  
By servile slavery, most creeping base  
(Kissing the Claw) appears with Coxcomb bare,  
Praising the Vicious Glow-worm past compare,  
With Oright virtuous Lord; such sleek Regard,  
Replenish Flat'ries Cups, with full reward.  
Like Spiders, webs of Flattery they wove,  
The pleasing Ears of Great-Ones to deceive:  
Which once Entangled by some Quaint Devise  
Chaps off their heads, 'tis practised in a trice.  
They'll give occasion that may move discourse  
And by a Trick, some dangerous Theme enforce,  
To draw a doubtful question to the worst  
They'll make men guilty, then betray 'em first,  
These are the only spies, that gape for prey,  
Cutthroats in silence, smile, and then betray.  
Entrap th' unskilful, beg their forfeit Life's  
To grasp their States; thus the vile Villain thrives  
Whose whispering poisons, speaks him sins supporter  
Machiavellian Darkness, the Vicious Courtier ..  
Him, the true Noble Mind must ever shun,  
Or live (in hazard still to be undone,)  
Slave to the Vanity of Pomp, high Place,  
Ambitious thoughts, Sin, and a double Face;  
Cringes, and Crep, all the base desires  
Of sinful Life, plagued with infernal fires.   

What e'er thou arr that careless shalt resort  
To th' Court of Vice, only to see the Court;  
Take heed, beware of that Enchanted Glass,  
Where Pride in Mortals, Fiends in Hell surpass.  
There shalt thou Masques, such midnight Revel find  
Such Music, Banquets, to allure thy mind,  
As will affright the blood of Chastity,  
Turn Virgin Love, to hot Lust's Pleurisy.  
There shalt thou those, of Venus' Train behold,  
Burning Temptation flame in glittering Gold  
And though adorned with Pearl, the Richest stuff  
Their inflate Pride, ne'er think them brave enough.  
Were Gowns Embossed with Golden, Stars so fine,  
That in each Star, a Diamond should shine,  
Still, their high Towering lofty daring Pride  
(Like Lust restrained) Life's never satisfied.  
If checked for it; strait swiftest Mercury  
Strikes dead th' opgosing Foe to Venery:  
Like (sometimes) that sad most Lamented Knight  
Who died by a Trick; in such a woeful plight  
(By Sugar Candid Poisons) worked in Paste  
(From Sin and Murder sent,) whose delicate Taste,  
Under the feigned pretence, of seeming good,  
Consumed and burnt, his vital Crimson blood,  
Such is the Mighty-Madams-Murdring spite,  
* Court Concubines ne'er kill, but with delight.  
Curbed for their Pride, like God's ill Angels swell,  
As if Earth's Devils, and the World their Hell.  
* Pride is their Zeal, their Prayers forgetfulness,  
* Charity, Contempt, their Virtue wantonness  
* Plump, high-fed pampered flesh, on whom must wait  
* Page, Pander, Parasite, preparation State,  
* Gold: Glistering Glory, Cost, Curious diet,  
* Insatiate Pleasure, and luxurious Riot.   

And why all this high feeding, Rich Attire,  
But like bright Beacons, flaming all on fire,  
Threat Ruin, Death, and Hell; which wise men see,  
And know what fools they make, know them to be  
Soule-flaming firebrands, Expert in Evil  
Witches, Hell-Cats, Factors for the Devil,  
Sucke-blouds, Hyena, Siren's Crocodiles,  
All Scylla and Charybdis, whose proud smiles,  
Take pleasure to entice, make Men deface  
Their Souls fair Temple, for a poor Embrace,  
A luscious Pleasure, lewd lascivious greeting,  
A pleasing sweet, but a most bitter sweeting.   

Never was any great Arch-mischiefe done,  
But by a Whore, or a Priest, first begun,  
A Cloth of silver S●●●, Time's Tissue Trull,  
Can with close Cleopatra's Kisses Gull.  
The greatest Kings and Dukes, love for an hour,  
Nor is it them she love's, but their high power.  
Grooms, of the meanest quality in Court,  
Can make her fleshly fullness, sweeter sport,  
A glorious she Smocke-statist can amaze,  
Fire famous Troy, and set the world at gaze.  
A Drab of State, is a consuming Flame,  
Oft, fires the Hearts of Princes, past reclaim.  
Turns joy; to deep and Melancholy sadness,  
Poisons the blood, and fills the brain with madness,  
* Why should she else, with painting seem more fair?  
* Suffer her naked Breasts lie open bare?  
* Why use false coloured hair, Embossed with Gold?  
* Pownced with Perfumes, Locks curled to behold?  
* Why Oils? Waters for Teeth? Why void of Grace?  
* With spots (like Rats-Dung) to black patch the face?  
* Or why (in Baths of Milk) wash her proud skin?  
* Why wrong Heavens work-manship, with such high sin?  
* If not like CIRCE, by enchantment strange,  
* Men into Beasts and Beastlike nature's change.  
* Confounding sense, all reason sits a side,  
* Such is the force of her affected Pride.  
* A painted Face sleekt o'er by cunning Art,  
* Is but the Pride of a luxurious Heart.  
* A discontentment of God's work upon her,  
* To woo men's Eyes to Lust, and her dishonour.  
* Painting's the Nurse of black thoughts, damned devices,  
* It makes the soul imitate greatest vices.  
What is it else? but daring Impudence,  
'Gainst the bright Glory of Omnipotence,  
Lust's Lookingglass, Torch of Iniquity,  
Th'imperious Mistress of all Witchery,  
A slimy sin, daubed o'er the painted wall  
Of foulest Folly, to catch fools with all,  
A painted Face, harbours a Heart of Flint,  
There is no relish of Devotion in't.  
Lust, Pride, and Envy, all the sins that are,  
Waits on the painted Beauty falsely fair.  
Still busy in her Ear, her Mind, her Eye,  
To whore away Man's soul with foolery,  
The painted outside of a tempting Face,  
Spotted with Hell, stands sequestered from Grace.  
* Such Prodigal sinful sweets, Men ought not have,  
* Nor see th' alluring Face, unfit to crave.  
* Souls that will mount, high Heavens, Celestial state,  
* Climbs Virtue's Ladder; vicious Actions hate.  
* Man, that will ne'er be tempted, past his might,  
* Runs from the glittering Strumpet, flies her sight.  
* O happy is the man, blessed for ever,  
* Whose Life, in flying Sin, joys to persever.  
Vita nihil peius iniqua.    

THE JESVITE.  

NOt like that Masse-Priest, he whose mouth is crammed  
With words that speak all Protestants are damned.  
Him nor his Flock, I dare not censure so,  
Nor mean to write more than I justly know  
To be most true; In which known Path I find,  
Sergeant Catholics, so grossly blind,  
They dare outface Heaven's Truth, forged lies maintain  
To Cloak the cunning jesuites subtle Brain,  
He that does Theefe-like wait for Virtues fall,  
Life's in perpetual watch, to blow up all.  
The Precedent, recorded stands for ever.  
In this Realm's safety; which hel's Plot can never  
Wipe from Rememb'rance; never shall the Evil  
Of that close Secretary, to the Devil,  
That Jesuit GARNET, live forgot while I,  
Have Pen, or Hand, to write his Tragedy,  
(That Mine of Murder, Mischief's Master-vice,  
Lodged in the Politic skull of Avarice)  
His  Soul was such, he durst to swim,  
A Sea of Vice, be racked in every Limb.  
All Tortures suffer, rather than Reveal  
The Treason, his Religion bids conceal.  
Witness thou Ghost of Garnet, this is true.  
He that han'gd, drawn, and quartered, had his due.  
To him was known, the powder pitchy Treason,  
Never to be forgot, he knew the season  
When, where, and how, that sudden bloody blow,  
(Black, Hellbred, Thunder, flaming, overthrow,)  
Should have been given; knew the Times short space,  
When no soul should have time to pray for Grace,  
Or cry, God help; The Treason was so foul,  
The Traitors would have damned both body and Soul  
If in their power; and every soul i'th' Air  
Tossed up, sent unprepared of heavenly prayer,  
With all their sins; O horrid, horrid Act,  
All this the Jesuit knew; concealed the Fact,  
And rather than disclose, lest warning give,  
King, Prince, and Nobles, not a soul should live,  
Here was a Villain; yet I known in Spain,  
The Traitor's death so moaned, such Credit gain,  
(Though here he died, for Treason's just Complaint,)  
There Monster jesuites, make a Martyred Saint.  
Mischievous Masspriests to his meriting Fame,  
At the high Altar in a spacious frame,  
Advance to him, as to a Saint most blessed,  
His Body-mangled Picture, thus expressed:  

Garnets' Picture.  Bare Head, white Beard, Looks sober, in his Gown,  
* Him over head, Angels with Laurel Crown.  
* About his Neck, a long large Halter tide,  
* Hangs, (as befitting such) down the Left side.  
* His Belly ripped, blood seeming open raw,  
* Holding in his right hand, his pictured straw.  
* Beneath his right side, flames a Heart in fire,  
* 'Boue his left side, Limbs quartered, Treason's hire,  
* Presented on a Tower; which Pictured story  
Straw-sainted set up toth' Arch-Traitors Glory.  
Invites each eye, yea all the World to see  
Jesuits, Protectors, of all Villainy.  
* Poisoning of Princes, held as trifling things,  
* With them, 'tis meritorious to kill Kings.  
Can this Religion be, they think it pure,  
But Man ne'er knew Religion more impure,  
Their Church, is but their Bawd, bad deeds to further,  
Th' only sanctuary for blood and murder.  
Plots, Practices, hellish abomination,  
Pardons for Treason, holy approbation  
Of that ill-Sainted wretch (his cursed fault)  
That Father to Faux, the Devil i'th' vault.  
Such Judas-Iesuites ever Traitors prove  
To King, and Prince; disloyal in their love.  
* Yet outward fawning seem on bended knee  
* Low as the earth; O true hypocrisy,  
* Under the mild aspect of Reverence,  
* In duty, and submiss obedience,  
* With Oily Eloquence, best pleasing Phrase,  
* Catching Orations, full of flattering praise,  
* When in the Heart, abides no spot of good,  
* All treacherous thoughts; all thirsting after blood,  
* The fall of Princes, change, alteration,  
* The Protestant's Religion's desolation,  
* Such is the jesuites diue'lish disposition,  
* The nature of the Beast, his true condition.  
* He that can temporize, by Book maintain  
* To serve his ends; and glut his Godless gain.  
* Be what he least seems, cold in devotion,  
Envious, at one another's Promotion,  
* Not lowly minded, but proud Ambitious,  
* In tongue a Saint, in heart a Slave vicious.  
* Preach divine patience, when himself shall be,  
* The waspish Image of all Tyranny.  
* Splenative, choll'ricke, And who so offends,  
* Is so fare off from ever being friends,  
All-beeed he seem a Calm, yet if he live,  
he'll be revenged, be sure ne'er to forgive.  
Such is the jesuite, such his double Face,  
And such his charitable sign of Grace.   

He that dares awe his Country, King and State,  
Smile, and yet be a villain, all men hate,  
Set Princes at debate, befool the Time's,  
Poison the world, with irreligious Crymes,  
Swell Battles, Murders, make whole Kingdoms shake;  
Shed Innocent blood, all for Religion's sake,  
To defend Religion, what Religion's this,  
To seem devout, and do so much amiss?  
* Colour Religion, with mere gullery,  
* Wrist sacred Text, to maintain Roguery,  
(* As if Religion were a formal Law,  
* Religion only to keep fools in awe,)  
Defend Controversies; woe to those day's  
Woe to such Serpent-snarling Churchmen's ways,  
* Sin ne'er triumphs, strikes a more Fatal stroke,  
* Then when 'tis covered with Religion's Cloak.   

That jesuite, he, who speaks divinely fair  
Yet hath a wicked life; I may compare  
To fire, stand off, do not come too near it,  
You then may safely warm; need not fear it.  
But if thou unadvisedly presume,  
Approach to nigh, thee it will burn, consume,  
So the deceitful Priest, come not near him,  
Eat his Acquaintance, you need not fear him.  
Fly his dissembling sight, his black life spurn,  
If lodged within your bosom, he will burn  
With show of holiness burn and scorch,  
Waste thee, in thy Estate, like a spent Torch.  
There's not a Gentleman of means does die,  
But with his Heir, the jesuite presently  
Shares in his Land; with show of Reverence,  
(Winning of Souls) covers concupiscence.  
Commits with all he likes, any Man's wife,  
Makes her believe, 'tis to preserve his life.  
Persuading Letch'rie, with their Ghostly Father,  
No Sin, but a Deed of charity rather.  
Sad-sickenesse to prevent, to scour the Veins,  
To mundify, and for to purge the Reins,  
Ergo plena Charitatis; An Act  
Of mere Commiseration, such a Fact,  
As to deny it, (were a damned sin)  
Pulls curse on curse, which hath for ever been  
justly inflicted; punishing all those  
Repugnant Natures, with the worst of woes,  
Despair, assured confusion, dismal horror,  
Sudden destruction, Death, Infernal Terror,  
Hell, and the Devil; for that high offence  
Of Stubborn refusal, disobedience,  
A sin, impossible to be forgiven,  
Such is the jesuites charge; of purpose given,  
To please his Lust; makes that, a gainful Trade,  
Lies with this Lady, and that Chambermaid.  
Here gives a Pardon, there denounceth Curses,  
So betwixt both, sure to pick all their Purses.  
The Nimble Slaves Church-knaverie can strip,  
And fetch your greatest Lady o'er the hip.  
With a religious show, put tricks upon her,  
Rob the believing Fool, first of her honour,  
Then pardon Sin; and then he may enthrall,  
Rob her of Coin, Plate, jewels, Smock and all,  
Do, and undo, Her Charity's soon drawn  
For bawdy jesuites, her best Smock to pawn,  
Their thread of Doctrine 'mong women spun,  
Is to whore all, be she the chastest Nun,  
If she deny to yield, Murder and Rape,  
Shall Wolfe-like seize that prey, there's no escape,  
Such is the Murdering Mind of him we call,  
Nature's Monster, Priest jesuitical.    

THE DEVIL.  

SEarch all the Earth, you every where shall see,  
Satan most busy, from the Church not free,  
The very Pulpit haunts, and being vexed,  
Seeks how to put the Preacher from his Text:  
Such as teach others, yet themselves neglect,  
And with sin's Cassock hide their own defect;  
From Pew to Pew, unseen; Hel's Fiend does creep,  
To dull the Hearers Ears, logs some a sleep,  
Some to vain prattle, others still to pry,  
With wanton looks, for a bewitching Eye.  
Some greedily employs, to spy out Fashions,  
To glut the humours of proud women's passions.  
Makes muddy Mortals, at each other look,  
More than on Heaven, or Gods all blessed Book.  
And such is Satan's craft, continual Motion,  
To draw mankind from Heaven, and all Devotion.  
Tempts some to Hate, Ambition, some to slide  
The slip'rie sleights of Pomp, un-paid for Pride,  
Others to swim the Sea, Lust pleasing vice,  
Some wet-damnation, most men Avarice  
Servant to Satan; Satan which does strive,  
Man of all heavenly solace to deprive.  
God (for our sins) no sooner Angry grows,  
But strait the Roaring, sudden Devil throws  
His Paws on us; And like himself begins  
(For Numbers numberless of  sins,)  
To seize the Soul, made an Eternal prey  
To burn in Hell, as Heaven's just Castaway.  
Such is the Fate of Souls, ensnared within  
Satan's command; beware the Twig of sin,  
Lest touch will take thee Prisoner; Hellish Guiles  
Prove like the perilous paths of Crocodiles,  
Who with their slimy Tongues (licked o'er) prepare  
To murder Mortals, by a slip'rie Snare.   

Man is a Tree, whose Root what is't? thoughts evil,  
Bad Deeds the Body, yielding to the Devil.  
The Arms, ten proud aspiring discontents,  
Breakers of all the Ten Commandments.  
The Branches are, our proneness unto ill,  
The Leaves Pleasure, the fair Fruit sin, which still  
With sweetest show of sweetness, tempts us on,  
To feed and follow our destruction.  
* There's fear above us, fear beneath us,  
* Fear round about, and yet no fear within us.  
Satan like Dalilah, suffers not men,  
For to see danger; is't not fitting then,  
By holy violence, we seize the Sword  
Of th' Omnipotents, Omnipotent Word,  
To slaughter sin in us; O shall not we  
(That profess sacred Christianity,)  
Conquer our Crimes; think on the life to come,  
The rising of the Dead; that Day of Doom,  
When this vast Orb of Earth shall blazing burn,  
An all the World in Funeral Flames shall mourn,  
Then Heaven and Hellamazing shall appear,  
In two extremes; joy, and excessive Fear;  
Heaven in bright shining All Eternal Light,  
Hell in the Horror of perpetual Night.  
Heaven shall triumph, Hell tremble, Angels sing,  
Gloria in Excelsis, to Heaven's high King;  
The King of Heaven; Heaven joys perfect solace,  
All-ravishing, glittering, glistering Palace,  
Pleasure's Paradise, Immortal Dwelling,  
All pure, excellent, past thought excelling,  
Heaven's Pavement are the stars, in what excess  
Shines Heaven, when star-paued with stars numberless.  
No thought of want, which mads the thoughts of men,  
But plenty's fullness, full abound in Heaven.  
There, Virgin Chastity in Life oppressed,  
Glitters in Saintlike Glory, life's most blessed,  
The poor man tossed, from wrong, to injury,  
In Heaven finds comfort, firm felicity.  
The wronged widow, injured fatherless,  
Bright Heaven relieves, gives all their woes redress.  
* He that for ill, does good; Heaven will requite,  
* Crown his fair soul, with Comforts infinite.  
Is it not fit then, we our sins bewail,  
Think still on Heaven; on Heaven that ne'er did fail  
The penitent heart, when (alas) distressed,  
Naked, forlorn, when most of all oppressed.  
Then sends relief, miraculous reliefs,  
Such is the Love of Heaven, Heaven cures all griefs,  
As for Times Wolf-turned ill-affected great Ones,  
Close-fisted to the poor, deaf to their Groans,  
The villains of this Age, that make profession,  
Of a pure Life; yet live by base oppression,  
Hell shall confound their souls; that Den of Horror,  
(Circled with black affright, blue-burnng Terror)  
Shall boil their souls, and bodies, toth' black sweat  
Of an infernal poison; and that eat  
Still to renew new pains; plagues that excel  
Such are the neverdying pains of Hell.   

There, painted Pride life's crowned in flaming fire.  
The Glorious Strumpet, whipped with burning wire  
Fed, is the Lust-provoking Lecher there  
With scorching Coals; such as delight to swear,  
Swallow the Drunkards ever scalding Oil,  
There, Usurers in Pools of Sulphur boil,  
Murder, Rape, Incest, endless torments feel,  
The Rack of vengeance, and the burning wheel  
Whirled round in blue flames, soule-amazing fear,  
* More Plagues then Tongue can tell, the damned bear.  
In burning Beds of steel, soul's blazing fry,  
Tortured with torments, such as never dye,  
Cursing the Time of their abused Creation,  
Parents, Fate, Sin, and their own damnation.  
Better, O better never to be borne,  
Then with such Terror-striking Torments torn,  
Which to eschew, weep wonnes of earth, repent,  
Weep, weep for sin, soul-killing sins prevent,  
* Seek Heaven, shun Hell, fly from the worlds entice,  
* Heaven's the Reward of Virtue, Hell of Vice.  
* Perfect Repentance, makes men bravely die,  
* That ne'er lived so; fly than Hell's Misery,  
* Defer not thy Repentance till to Morrow,  
* Shed Tears for sin, O 'tis a sacred Sorrow.  
* Repent or damn; for sin weep, and weep well,  
* Souls that do flout at Tears, shall fry in Hell.   

God in his infinite Mercy ne'er forsakes  
The soul which fights with sin, and undertakes  
To do its best endeavour; strives t' expel  
The subtle snares of sin, and strives to dwell  
On Virtue's mount (free from the tempting vice  
Of the World, Flesh; and Devil, all th'entice  
Of all ill Company; whose venom blood  
Each divine thought in Man, each deed that's good,  
Seeks to corrupt, to poison, betray souls,  
And dry their virtues, like parched parchment scrolls.  
From which dire Mischief, the Religious still  
Protected stand, by the Almighty's will.  

Simile.  As the young Bird for food does never cease,  
Opening the Mouth, until the Dam release  
And cure the want it suffers; so should we  
* With unlocked lips still pray, that God would free  
* Our souls from sin, O 'tis a blessed task!  
* Good ne'er leaves giving, till we leave to ask.  
What a large, Extreme folly 'tis to spy  
Man (like the Wolf for prey) how earnestly  
He hunts for means; as if the only honey  
Of Soul, and Body, did consist in money;  
Meat drink & clothes; men sick, still pray for health,  
Ready to be undone, for paltry wealth,  
Freedom, and safety; And with shameless Faces  
Forget to beg of God, Spiritual Graces.  
* Many Men pray; But he the Glory wins,  
* Who prayer, to be disburdened from his sins;  
And views the poor Man's Labour, with the Eye  
Of sweet relief; there's Noble Charity:  
The heart of such a Man, may sometimes shrink  
Under Temptations weight, but never sink:  
* God makes him here, Lord Steward of that store,  
* He deals so cheerfully among the poor;  
* Gives him the Grace to think, when to his sight  
* A poor wretch comes, to beg of him a Mite;  
* He might have been that beggar, his Estate  
* Transferred on him; and begging at his Gate,  
Or in the street in Rags, oppressed with grief,  
Glad to beseech him, for some poor relief;  
To such fair souls; jehova in his love,  
Gives Gifts of Grace; he their defence will prove,  
God's promise is, (if fervently, we pray  
And use our best endeavour every day  
To fly from sin, resolving to betake us  
To holy Means, he never will forsake us.  
God, is so kind, he cannot, will not see  
His Servants Slaves, to damned impiety.  
Never did any, do their fair endeavour  
To pray to him, that ever lost their labour.  
Nay more; if God but see thy inclination  
To pray; He will prevent thy supplication,  
Answer thy full desire  thou canst crave,  
Grant that, thy heart did never hope to have.  
He made the Ear, to hear the happiness  
We have from him; the Tongue still to confess  
The Glory of his Name; our Eyes to see  
The works of his Almighty Majesty.  
Hand, Heart, Knee, Foot, God the whole man did frame  
All to rejoice, in his All-Sacred Name.  
And dare we Dust and Ashes cease to pray  
To Him? O no; Heaven grant I never stray.  
Ride thou my Soul upon some winged Cloud  
To th' Heavenly Harvest; Fly to the sacred Shroud  
Of Sempeternall Safety; Fly the sight  
Of blazing Beauty, flaring Earth's delight,  
Malicious Minds; mischievous Man's invention,  
Fair Looks, false Hearts, stamped in a foul intention,  
Take flight my Soul, fly from the dismal Den  
Of this Dark Age; the impivousnesse of Men  
Fly from the ponderous Plummets of black Vice  
Which pulls to Hell; help Prince of Paradise,  
I faint, I die, sin loads my soul with Horror,  
The World, the Flesh, and Devil, all with Terror  
Hangs, on my fettered Limbs Prisoner to care  
I live starved, Tortured, Tempted to despair.  
Hear me Eternal Essence, which hath made  
My soul to pray, send me thy sacred aid  
On the bright Sun Beams of thy sweet Salvation,  
Draw (Lord) draw up the Dew of my Devotion.  
Mount Soul, upon the wings of Charity,  
Help Heaven, up Heart, Fly at Eternity  
Roused like a Towering Falcon in despite  
Of Hell, and Furies, Fly to thy Maker's sight.  
* Happy the Man, whose Actions, strive to swim.  
* Through Seas of Tribulation unto him,  
* The way to Heaven, is full of Rubs, and Thorns,  
* We cannot pass, but by the Lane of Scorns.  
* The Devil sets his Baits, in every angle,  
* No Corner's free from him, souls to entangle  
Therefore, in Virtue's Path, strive to excel,  
Let fervent Faith, repulse the Fiend of hell.  
Divines may Preach else till their Heart strings burst,  
The Height of Sin will Mount; live still accursed.   
FINIS.   

Acrostic Epitaphs upon King james, Prince Lodowicke, Duke of Richmond, Lord Marques Hamleton, and others.  

KING JAMES his Epitaph.  

K inde, Excellent King, Great Britain's Solomon,  
I ust judge, his Sacred Majesty is gone,  
N owe numbered 'mong the dead, upon whose Beer  
Griefe through the world does sacrifice a Tear.   

I nsighes, and tears, and groans, at his depart,  
A Sea of woe broke in, seized every heart:  
M irrour of Majesty, underneath thy Hearse,  
E ache Poet, sadly sits, weeping in Verse.  
S earch Earth's Circumference where shall you find   

D welling in Kings, King JAMES his royal mind:  
E ternitie so graced him, he did Shine,  
C rowned from his infancy, a King Divine;  
E xc'llently Learned; Foreign Princes know it,  
A King he was, and a most Sacred Poet.  
S o constant, such a Peacemaker, what Eye  
E for beheld? His Life was Virtue's Story,  
D epriued by death, for his Immortal Glory.    

Duke Richmond's Ghost. To his Princely Dutches.  

L ife of that Love, to me on Earth, most Dear,  
O cease to grieve, for me let no sad Tear  
D rop from thy Funeral Eyes; Death came, I went  
O be joyed from Earth, to Heaven's pure Parlaiment.  
Why then sad sweet, which once my heart did burn  
I n true Love's Flames, why dost thou sit and mourn?  
C lere Eyes, Look up, joy in th' Allternall Trine,  
K eepe tears for sin; so Turtle live Divine.   

S aint like they live, where Virtue, rules high blood,  
T ' is most, most fearful to be Great, not Good,  
V nlocke thy treasure then; Heavens steward be  
And what I left undone, do thou for me;  
R eward thy Servants, Good Deeds lead the way  
T o make us live best in the latter day.   

So farewell Sweet, Good God from ways uneven  
Thy Ship of Life steer to the Land of Heaven.    

Duke Richmond's Epitaph.  

FRom fogs of vanity, thick Clouds of Vice,  
Locked from each Soul, seducing vain Entice,  
Here lies Entombed a gracious Prince, whose Birth  
Almighty God framed of the purest Earth.  
Through every Conduit of the Flesh, high strains  
Of Royal blood, ran through his Azure Veins.  
Like a fair printed Godly pleasing Book,  
So did his Dead Corpses Living rarely look.  
His Eyes toth' complete carriage of his Head  
Were Leaves of Love, where none that knew but Read  
A Body, so befitting every Limb,  
Never was more becoming then in Him:  
But now in Grave, that Form is changed to Clay  
Which living shined, like to a Summer's Day.  
Gone is the subject of my mournful verse  
His Sun is set; turned to a sable Hearse  
Lodged in the Night, within a death bed laid  
Formed by rude hands, the Pick Axe, and the Spade,  
To put the world in mind, these days of sin,  
Death shall deface as if they ne'er had been:   

Witness the sad rememb'rance of that day  
When this dead Duke, so early snatched away,  
How soon that Morn, when to Attend his King  
For to enact some memorable thing,  
Death by the King of Kings, which writ was sent  
To send his Soul to Heavens pure Parlaiment.    

An Epitaph.  
Pause Reader, for me thinks I see appear  
Sorrow in thy Face; there dropped a tender tear,  
Is't even so; read on, here shalt thou find,  
(His Heaven on Earth) the beauty of his mind.  
No vain affecting Pomp, Pride, nor Ambition  
Bred in the bosom of his sweet condition,  
* Deserving Love, Courteous he was to all,  
* A Lover of justice, Foe to Satan's thrall:  
* True Friend to Virtue, Learning wholesome Laws,  
* Wonderful valiant, in a Righteous Cause.  
* Patron of Piety, Favourer of Arts;  
* A Noble Cherisher of all good Parts:  
* What flourishing Virtue, e'er made Man blessed  
* But took a Lodging, in Duke Richmond's breast,  
Heaven gave him high Birth, Scotland Princely Name,  
France courtly Language, England Eternal Fame.  
The modest garb, of grave civility,  
Meekness with Love, and true Humility;  
Ushered his Soul, the perfect Path to prove  
The Rich content, of Great Iehoua's Love,  
Round Crowned with Glory, sempeternall Light,  
Glit'ring in Heaven blessed in his Maker's sight  
He Life's; that was, not only Great in blood  
But what is fare more Rare, a Great man Good.   

The Lord marquis HAMLETON. His Epitaph.  

I f there be sighs, a Tear, or grievous Groan,  
A Sorrow yet, never to Mortal known,  
M ache here your Rendevoze, sighs, tears, each moan,  
E ache Eye behold, by Fatal stroke here lies,  
S truck into Earth; True Honou'rs Noble Prize.   

H owe e'er his Body in sad sickness sped,  
A ngels with his fair Soul to Heaven are fled,  
M auger the poisoned shafts of death and Hell,  
L ing'ring disease; Earth's Witchcraft, or sin's spell,  
E ternity, so graced him, Death was vexed  
T o see him live; and therefore slew him next  
O f all, to all our Worthies lately sent,  
N ever to die in Heavens True Parlaiment.    

Arthur, Lord Chichester, His Epitaph.  

A dmired, blessed Chichester, Counsellor at war,  
R eu'rent State worthy; Wisdom's Earth-bred Star,  
T oh the true grief of Kingdoms he is gone  
H is fair Sunset, cold as the Marble stone.  
V ictorious Viceroy; O with what a zeal,  
R uled he Hybernias' troublesome Commonweal.   

C urbed rough haired Kern; in conquering Rebels hearts  
H ee was beloved, and feared, for his rare parts,  
I ustice, and Mercy Ushered him the way,  
C onstant to Govern) that could best obey,  
H onour and Virtue still (in him combined,)  
E xprest the fullness of his Noble Mind.  
S ighs turned to Tears, sad Tears to grievous groans  
T hose sighs & Tears, to hundred thousand moans,  
E xprest for Him, wise, valiant, most descreet,  
R are Fruit, made ripe for Heaven, for Earth too sweet.     

To the Right Honourable Robert, Earl of Warwick, his Anagram in Latin. ROBERTUS RICH: Anagramma CHRIST ROBUR: Englished O CHRIST, my Strength.  

Relligio, Virtus, Pietas, hoc nomine constat  
CHRIST ROBUR, sacrae Relligionis Apex.   

How well, thy Name, and Virtue does agree,  
Firm Faith is found in that, all worth in thee.    

To the Right Honourable Sr. julius Caesar, Knight, Mr. of the Rolls, etc. His Annagram. JULIUS, CAESAR, Annagramma IUS, AC LIS VERA, Englished JUST DEALING, AND TRUE STRIFE.  
IN this your Honour's Anagram I find,  
Just Dealing Armed, with a Religious Mind,  
Fixed in your Soul, Friend to despised Art,  
And Noble Virtue, O thrice happy Heart,  
jacob's true strife with God, for glorious Fame,  
Shines in the Virtue of your Noble Name,  
By your Just Dealing, And True Strife with sin,  
You conquer Hell, a holy Battle win.  
Strive on fair soul, thy Zeal makes Heaven thy friend,  
And Heavens high Chanc'ry Court thy journeys end.   

VERSES Upon the Principal Coat at Arms, of my Honourable Friend Sir HENRY HART, Knight of the Noble order of the Bath.  

SYmbolus iste hominem, designant honore Potentem  
Rex, Leo, (concessum est,) Ceruus, Princepsque Terrarum.   

Thus expressed in English.  
This Noble Arms fair Honour decks, & ancient worth invests,  
The Lion is the King (I grant) the Hart the Prince of Beasts.   

Attributes belonging to the Hart.  
Ingenious, quick, long lived, Chaste, Noble, wise,  
Are attributes found proper that arise  
To this brave Creatures praise; more to impart  
SERTORIUS, lead his Army by a Hart:  
And ALEXANDER took great pride to deck,  
With Golden Collars the soft velvet Neck  
Of those Heroicque Rangers, that took breath  
Hundred years after Alexander's Death:  
This being just, how much more stirs up Art  
That Noble Name, set in a bounteous Hart.    

An Acrostic Composed at the Marriage Of my honoured Friend Sir Thomas Stanley, with the LADY his wife that now is. 
Fidelity.  
Honour  
Love   

M arriage, that Sacred tie, uniteing Hearts  
A mple in Circular Love, which never Parts,  
R are gentle Bride, in your blessed Heart hath placed  
Y our Husband's Heart, he that so thinks him graced   

S o fare beyond expression; nothing can  
T ell his high joy, by you a Happy man;  
A ngels Protect you both; May your fair worth  
N atured like that Blessed Tree first brought you forth:  
Liue long; So love, live blessed in one another  
Your our sweetness grant (O Heaven) a joyful Mother.   

Verses upon Sr. Thomas Stanley his Lady, her first being with Child.  

God to this world with safe deliu'rance bring  
That little world, Prime, Noble, Precious thing  
Within your happy Womb; Long may it live  
To live Times fair example, truly give  
Next God, (full joy) praise to that Bodies worth  
Blessed Tree of Happiness, first brought it forth;  
That's all I can wish, which, to your true joy  
Through hearty Prayer I wish, a lovely Boy.  

Hope.  
Faith.  
Charity.    

The blessed Sirens of Eternity.  
Firm Faith, Sweet Hope, and Sacred Charity,  
For ever dwell; fair Minded Virtuous Dame,  
In your two Hearts; now in one Bodies Frame,  
Big with Rich Nature's comely, curious dressing,  
jewel of Glory, God's Almighty Blessing:  
O may your Pangs in Labour, prove as mild  
As was the Virgin Mary; she whose Child  
Remember in your Throws, you then with ease  
Shall bear a Babe, that best your mind shall please:  
So happy Mother, of a happy Son,  
If Daughter happy Live, Heavens will be done.     

A Memorial upon the Death of that True Honourable, Valiant Commander, Sr. Francis Carew: Knight of the most noble and sacred Institution of the Bath to our Sovereign Lord King Charles.  

F all from mine Eyes, yea Tragic Tears of pity,  
R un to my Pen, writ, writ Times mournful Ditty▪  
And to this dull Age, tell in Sorrow's Tone,  
N oble, Wise, Valiant Carew, he is gone.  
C onquered for Love to Heaven, King, Country, State,  
I n a just cause he died; O happy Fate,  
S owl suffering Virtue, fully fortunate.   

C alled to the sacred Order of the Bath,  
A Gem he lived, and died a Knight of Faith,  
R eligion drew him on to Wars fierce Fight,  
E art claimed her due; Death was to him delight,  
W ho lived, and died, Heaven's happy Favourite.    

An Epitaph upon the Right Honourable Lady, the Lady Francis, Sister to Theophilus Earl of Lincoln, and wife to Mr. john George's Esquire.  
Ye Eyes that joy i'th' rareness of that Life,  
Which makes Man blessed in a true Noble wife  
Behold, here lies a gem, bereaved of Breath  
That Excellent Lady, she that by Death  
Stern Death subdued; her life and love did shine  
Clear (as Heaven's star,) like a true wife divine.  
She was her Sex's wonder; hate to sin  
Made her the Glory of her Noble kin,  
She was (what can be said) Religious, kind,  
A Saint on Earth, that bore an Angel's Mind.   

Upon the Death of Mistress Margaret Brograve.  
M ilde, At Rough Grim Assaults, Restless Even Tired,  
B eguirt with Death, mildly her soul aspired,  
Right upward flew to that Arch-glitring Heaven,  
O f, for, and from whom, she at first was given.  
G lory of Parents, farewell, modest, kind,  
R are earthly Form, framed of a Heavenly Mind,  
All the fond fashions of the world's entice,  
V aine Woman's wish she slighted; tempting vice,  
E for she checked, with thoughts of Paradise.   

Upon my worthy Friend Mr. CHARLES AYTE. CHARLES AYTE: Anagram REALY CHASTE.  
THe true expression of a grateful Mind,  
(For your long since past love to me so kind,  
I never shall forget;) accept then this  
Divine Note on your Name; Man's chiefest bliss,  
Courts you fair Soul to such an happiness;  
Words are too weak to tell, Pen to express.  
While thousands in vain Lust, their life time waste,  
Your Anagram, is what? Realy Chaste.   

MARY HEATH. Anagram HA', MY HEART: Thus expressed:  
Never had Virgin sweetness to the view  
Of this vast World, a happier Name than you.  
Your Anagram is such, 'tis ever used,  
'Mongst Turtle Lovers, that ne'er love abused,  
Virtue's Chaste Queen, to you doth here impart  
Infinite joy, in these words, Ha', My Heart.   

TO My much respected true Friend, Master William Vtber.  

W i'th' holy thoughts Lord make thee to repel  
I nfernall sin; ne'er may the charms of Hell,  
L ascivious Tempt, nor the world's delight  
L ocke thee from Heaven; the Lord of Day and Night  
I nspire thy Soul, Ravish thy Noble Sight  
A rmed with Faith, Hope, and Sacred Charity,  
M ount (may thy Soul) Eternal Victory.   

V aine World, what is it? but a Theme of sorrow  
T imes slave, the stage of death from which we borrow  
B rau'ry for one Day, and are dead to Morrow:  
E arth's Pomp is nothing but a poisoning Spell,  
R jots vain Glory, Painted jezabel.    

TO His Respected Friend, Mr. VALENTINE OLDIS.  

V ertue on Earth, (firm Enemy to Vice,  
A ppearing Glorious, when the Worlds Entice  
L aies Siege unto the Soul; and with delight  
E levates holy Spirits 'gainst sins Fight)  
N aims you the Man for Combat; points thee on  
T o the Celestial Race; which thought upon  
I nuites thy Soul to that perfection,  
N o Tongue can tell; not all the Words content,  
E quals the Mind, that's truly Penitent,   

O n God's great Mercy, ever cast an Eye,  
L et, thy known dangerous Travails never die.  
D eeds that have past the Storms, of Sea, and Land,  
I n thee true Trial have, to make thee stand  
S in's Foe, Truth's Champion still, at Heaven's command.    

TO My beloved Friend Mr. FRANCIS HUR'ST.  

F lie Friend from all vain thoughts, let thy fair youth  
R unne Virtues Race, be still in Love with Truth.  
A s Seamen strive in Neptune's Path to shun  
N umberlesse Dangers; so like Time's best Son,  
C lere thy soul's ship, from every stormy Spell,  
I n this World's wicked Sea; Those waves of Evil,  
S urges of Sin, the World, the Flesh, and Devil.   

H ere as you read the Follies of the Time,  
V ndaunted struggle to subdue each Crime,  
R owze thee from sin, strive Virtue's Top to climb,  
S oh from the high Pyramids of Grace,  
T here hovers o'er thy head an Angel's place.    

LOVES SONNET  
LEt me not be with bitterness despited  
That an with you and only you delighted;  
(Bear witness Angels) what I writ is true,  
I Love, and love, and love; and none but you.  
Shall I then suffer Rack, be racked, and torn.  
Shall I then suffer hate, and churlish scorn  
Will you my honest mind so much misuse,  
Sweet Nature's Love, to pity, not abuse;  
O be so sweet, Live, and live long to cherish  
My Pen, and me, or I for ever perish.   

Sorrow's Sonnet.  
Once, I did love, so loved, and was beloved  
As Heaven was angry sure, else we had proved  
No-Star-crost Lovers our true Loves were such,  
(Alas) we loved; and loved and loved too much  
For see the luck, my Love kept from mine eyes  
By her most cruel Friends; for Love she dies.  
Then, like a burning Beacon set on fire  
At sight of her sad Funeral my dear  
Kindled, burned, fired, flamed, as 'twould pierce the sky,  
Then would I perish fain; but Fates deny.  
A thousand griefs at once, me thought did move  
In my Mad brain; and then I was in Love,  
Stark Mad in Love; all joys bereft me,  
And nothing but despair, Sad sorrow left me.   

Upon a Glitering Smock Gallant sitting at a Play.  
YOnder she sits that flaunting Hat and Feather  
Swells high my blood, & makes such stormy weather  
In my betossed Brain, I am not I,  
I'm stabbed toth' very Heart, with her black Eye.  
Oh did you see her, trip it on the ground,  
Her Rattling silks thy senses would confound  
That Mask of Hers, does mad me; hides the fair  
Which (unseen) sure would seem passed all compare.  
* Eyes ache no more with looking on yond Toy  
* she'll set thy Heart on fire like flaming Troy:  
* Behold her Breasts are bare, O sight, O spell,  
* Satan ne'er sent a stronger Charm from Hell:  
* Plump panting Globes of pleasure how yea please  
* My erring Eyes, and yet like storms in Seas  
Should my soul's ship once touch her, 'twould be torn  
And make me wish I never had been borne.  
Help Heaven least gazing on those Naked Twins  
I do in thought commit a thousand sins:  
The Great Alcides fiercest Monsters tamed,  
Yet fairest Omphale's sight, his valour shamed  
High-spirited Hector, to the Field was won  
For Beauteous Helen, and all Troy undone.  
A hundred thousand sad examples show  
The Tragedy of Man, whose Eyes bestow  
Liking to such proud Puppets as a woman,  
Given over to damned Pride, and true to no man.   

The difference betwixt Acquaintance and a Friend.  
THe difference 'twixt Acquaintance and a Friend,  
Truth thus proclaims, Acquaintance will pretend  
Many Good Morrow's, as how do you Sir,  
Prattle, and Prate, and keep a stinking stir,  
Of doing Good; Their tattling Tongues can bawl,  
Talk of much Good, but do no good at all.   

Upon the unkindness of a Friend.  
Witness fair Truth, is not that judgement weak,  
That will not give a true Friend leave to speak,  
Shall I be dumb, when I behold my Friend,  
In the vain ways of vanity to spend  
His Coin, and be mislead by every Scab,  
To drink this drunken health, visit that Drab,  
Shall I behold my Friend whose fair intent  
Inclines to good: fool it in Compliment,  
Talk with this prating Puppy, and that Ass,  
Here give a Congee, there present a Glass,  
Bowing the Body, bending the Antic knee,  
Out on such Coxcomb Curiosity,  
'Tis hateful, very scurvy, use it not  
'Twill fool thy Fame, thy Reputation blot,  
Let Reason rule, scorn not a friends advice,  
Take heed of Pride, 'twas kicked from Paradise.  
* Sin's are soon known, Custom thyself to ill,  
You cannot leave wickedness when you will.  
The Ancient Fathers firmly say, unless  
We sins occasion shun, we shall transgress.  
Look towards Heaven then, let it not be said  
Thou art a Whore to friendship, but a Maid,  
Resolved in Virgin love, to live and die,  
A Friend untainted in a true friends Eye,  
Be such a Friend, Or never take the name,  
Of Friend upon thee, 'twill put out thy Fame,  
Strumpet thy fair Repute, demolish quite  
All peace of Conscience, dim thy Crystal sight,  
From Glories view, and like a Toy of State,  
(Powdered all over with Pride) abuse thy Fate  
True Turtle Friends should ne'er take more delight  
Then in th'enjoying one another's sight.  
But now he's gone? flint hearted Friend, farewell,  
I'll not complain to folly; yet I'll tell  
Fair Truth how foully you have gone astray,  
And in a wanton humour thrown away,  
A jewel, which thy Life Time thou in vain  
May hope, but never find the like again.  
Wert thou sole Monarch of the world ere I,  
Would creep for favour to thee, I would dye,  
Die all alone, by that same sword, that Hand,  
Of mine so ready still at thy command  
Wavering, unkind, forgetful that thou art,  
That never yet didst, find a treacherous heart  
Lodged in my breast, my Head, Hand, Heart, Life, all,  
To do you right, were ever at your call,  
And am I slighted now; am I like Froth,  
So soon blown out, O heaven where's Faith and Troth  
Where life's true friendships manifestations,  
Of love to me, all vows protestations,  
If all be fled, than I will ner give more,  
Trust to a friend, then to a common Whore,  
Better be racked upon the torturing wheel,  
Or like Spain's Jndian Slave, Time's Terror feel,  
To very death, then Childishly to find  
A friend unconstant, faithless, false, unkind.  
FINIS.