The MUSES Sacrifice  
  

TO THE MOST NOBLE, and no less deseruedly-renowned Ladies, as well Darlings, as Patronesses, of the Muses; LVCY, Countess of Bedford; MARY, Countesse-Dowager of Pembroke; and, ELIZABETH, Lady Cary, (Wife of Sr. Henry Cary:) Glories of Women.  

THE Muses, sacrifice; I, consecreate;  
They, unto Heaven; I, to you, heavenly THREE:  
They, my poor Heart; I, my loves rich Estate,  
together with my Rhymes, that rarer be.   

But what can be more rare than richest Love,  
sith so rich Love is, now, so rarely found?  
Yes; measur'd-words, that, out of measure, move  
the Soul to Heaven, from Hell that's most profound!   

A vexed Soul for Follies, that betray  
the Soul to Death, some call the neither Hell:  
Thence move my Measures; and, do make such way,  
that they all Lets to give way, do compel.   

These Rarities, which my poor Soul confines,  
her treble- Zeal to you (three Graces) brings  
For Grace, as glorious as the Sun that shines  
(as bright, as cheerful) on inferior Things.   

Such Grace you have, by Virtue, and by Fate,  
as makes you Three, the Glory of these Times;  
The MUSES Darlings, and their Chairs of STATE;  
Shapers, and Souls of all Soule-charming Rhymes!   

BEDFORD, the beaming-glory of thy HOUSE  
that makes it Heaven on Earth, thy Worths are such,  
As all our WITS make most miraculous,  
because thy WIT and WORTH do work so much.   

For, WIT and SPIRIT, in Beauty's Livery,  
do still attend thine all-commanding EYES;  
And, in th' Achivements of thine Ingeny,  
the gloss thereof, like Orr, on Sable lies.   

The Womb that bore thee, made thy noble Breast  
abound with Bounty, ere thou knewest thy Fate;  
Where furnished was that Bounty with the best  
of honours Humours, giving Her the Mate.   

For which, all Poet's Ploughs (their Pens) do plow  
the fertil'st Grounds of ART; and, in the same,  
Thy still-increasing Praises (thick) do sow,  
to yield Eternity thy Crop of Fame!   

PEMBROKE, (a Paragon of Princely PARTS,  
and, of that Part that most commends the Muse,  
Great Mistress of her Greatness, and the ARTS,)  
Phoebus and Fate makes great, and glorious!   

A Work of Art and Grace (from Head and Heart  
that makes a Work of Wonder) thou hast done;  
Where Art, seems Nature; Nature, seemeth Art;  
and, Grace, in both, makes all outshine the Sun.   

So sweet a Descant on so sacred Ground  
no Time shall cease to sing to Heavenly Lyres:  
For, when the Spheres shall cease their gyring sound,  
the Angels then, shall chant it in their Quires.   

No Time can vaunt that ere it did produce  
from femine Perfections, so sweet Strains  
As still shall serve for Men and Angels use;  
then both, past Time, shall sing thy Praise & Pains.   

My Hand once sought that glorious WORK to grace;  
and writ, in Gold, what thou, in Ink, hadst writ:  
But Gold and highest Art are both too base  
to Character the glory of thy Wit!   

And didst thou thirst for Fame. (as all Men do)  
thou wouldst, by all means, let it come to light;  
But though thou cloud it, as doth Envy too,  
yet through both Clouds it shines, it is so bright!   

Where bright DESERT fore-goes; a spur is Praise  
to make it run to all that glorifies:  
Of such Desert, i● ought eclipse the Rays,  
it ever shames FAME'S public- Notaries.   

Carry (of whom Minerva stands in fear,  
lest she, from her, should get ARTS Regency)  
Of ART so moves the great-all-moving Sphere,  
that every Orb of Science moves thereby.   

Thou mak'st Melpomen proud, and my Heart great  
of such a Pupil, who, in Buskin fine,  
With Feet of State, dost make thy Muse to meet  
the Scenes of Syracuse and Palestine.   

Art, Language; yea; abstruse and holy Tongues,  
thy Wit and Grace acquired thy Fame to raise;  
And still to fill thine own, and others Songs;  
thine, with thy Parts, and others, with thy praise▪   

Such nervy Limbs of Art, and Strains of Wit  
Times passed ne'er knew the weaker Sex to have;  
And Times to come, will hardly credit it,  
if thus thou give thy Works both Birth and Grave.   

Ye Heavenly Trinary, that sways the State  
of ARTS whole Monarchy, and WITS Empire,  
Live long your Likes (unlike) to animate  
(for all Time's light) to blow at your Art's Fire.   

For, Time now swells, (as with some poisonous Weed)  
with Paper-Quelkchose, never smelled in Schools;  
So, made for Folly's Excess; for, they feed  
but fatten not; if fatten, 'tis but Fools.   

What strange Chimaeras Wit, (nay Folly) frames  
in these much stranger Times, weak Wits t'affright  
Besides themselves! for, Wits Celestial Flames,  
now spend much Oil, yet lend but little Light!   

And what they lend, is (oft) as false, as small;  
so (to small purpose) they great Pains do take  
But to be scorned, or cursed, or loathed of all  
that, by their false-light, foully do mistake.   

For, to give Light that leads light Men awry,  
is Light that leads to Darkness; then such, Light  
Were better out, than still be in the Eye  
of Men, that (so) do, lightly, run from RIGHT.   

For, while such Light doth shine, the Multitude  
(like Moats in Sun) with their Confusion plays;  
Not weighing, o'er their Heads, how Errors Cloud  
the while, doth threat, t'o'er-whelme them many ways.   

By pouring down the Hail of hard Conceits  
'gainst God and Goodness, that do batter both:  
Or else, by saddest Showers of dark Deceits,  
borne as the fickle Wind of Fancy blowth:   

By Lightning; that doth still more hurt than good;  
while Errors Thunderclaps make sour the sweet  
(Yea, sweetest) drink of Nature (our best Blood)  
that doth with Melancholy-madnesse meet.   

By all that may (at least) give some offence  
to complete Virtue, Wisdom, Wit, and Art:  
For, Ignorance, hath oft more Insolence,  
than puffing Knowledge to take Errors part.   

Disease of Times, of Minds, Men, Arts, and Fame,  
vain Self-conceit, how dost thou ply the Press  
Of People and the Printer, with thy shame,  
clad in the Coat of Fustian-foolishnesse?   

For, all that but pretend t'have Art or Wit,  
so travel with Conceit, amiss conceived,  
That, till the Press deliver them of It,  
their Throws are such as make them Wit-bereaued!   

Yet, if the Issue of their crazed Brains  
do chance (though monstrously) to com● to light;  
Lord! how they hug it, like the Ape that strains  
her young so hard, in love, as kills it quite.   

What Piles of Pamphlets, and more wordy Books,  
now farce the World! wherein, if Wisdom look●,  
She shall see nothing worthy of her Looks,  
unless the idle Likeness of a Book!   

But WIT's most wronged by privilege of School:  
for, Learning's Drunkards now so ply the Pot  
(Of Ink I mean) Posterity to fool,  
as shames Wits Name, although they touch him not.   

Some that but look into Divinity  
with their left Eye, with their left Hand do write  
What they observe, to wrong Posterity,  
that by this Ignis fatuis roam by Night.   

Some search the Corpses of all Philosophy,  
and every Nerve and vain so scribble on,  
That where it should be Truth's Anatomy,  
they make it Errors rightest Skeleton.   

Some others on some other Faculties,  
still (fond) labour, but to be in Print:  
(O poor Ambition!) so, their Folly flies  
abroad the World, like Slips, that shame their Mint.   

But Poesy (dismal Poesy) thou art  
most subject to this sovereign Sottishness;  
So, there's good Cause thou shouldst be out of heart,  
sith all, almost, now put thee under Press.   

And Wit lies shrouded so in Paper-sheetes,  
bound Hand and Foot with Cords of Vanities:  
That (first) with all Obscurity it meets;  
so, 'tis impossible it ere should rise.   

But you● Three Graces, (whom our Muse would grace,  
had she that glory, that our Philip had,  
That was the Beauty of Arts Soul and Face)  
you press the Press with little you have made.   

No; you well know the Press so much is wronged,  
by abject Rhymers that great Hearts do scorn  
To have their Measures with such Numbers thronged.  
as are so basely got, conceived, and borne.   

And, did my Fortunes not expose me to  
contempt of Greatness, sith so mean I am,  
I should, with Greatness, greatly scorn it too,  
sith Fame for Versing, now, is held but Shame.   

But, in that vain lies not that Malady;  
no, It is sound, and holds Art's purest Blood,  
Which therein flows to each Extremity  
of Arts whole Body, for the publike-good.   

Here-hence it came, that divine Oracles  
(Apollo's Dialect, great God of Art)  
Were still expressed in measured Syllables,  
sith squarest Thoughts most roundly they impart.   

In which respect its meetest to make Records  
of memorable Accidents of Time:  
Of Prince's Lives, and Actions of great Lords:  
which Poets, first, did Chronicle in Rhyme.   

Nay, they were first that Nature's Works observed,  
and Booked it out for young Philosophers:  
Yea, they were first, by whom, is still conserved  
the knowledge of heavens motions, and the Stars.   

Who sought to find each Substance separate,  
and, in their curious Search, sound what they were;  
And, to the Life, did them delineate  
on Arts fair Front, that there, more fair, appear!   

Then, Poets were the first Philosophers;  
first State-obseruers, and Historians:  
First Metaphickes, and Astronomers,  
yea, first Great-clarks, and Astrologians.   

And, therefore, were they, in the World's first Age,  
pow'rfull'st Persuaders; whose sweet Eloquence:  
(That ever, staidly, ran from holy Rage)  
was the first Rhetoric sprung from Sapience.   

For, should we give this Empress but her due,  
(Empress of speech that Monarchizeth Ears)  
We must confess, she can all Souls subdue,  
to Passions causing joy, or forcing Tears.   

It is a Speech of most Majestic state,  
that makes reason's Forces not to be withstood:  
The Tethys, that doth still predominate  
th'outrageous Ocean of our boiling blood!   

For, it doth flow more fluent from the Tongue.  
and, in the flowing, carries all with it,  
Which but attempts the Torrent to impugn  
and Rocks of Art removes, to Seas of Wit!   

Succinct it is, and easier to retain  
(which with our Wits and Wills doth ●est agree)  
Than Prose, less subject to just Measures Reign:  
for, Prose from Measures Rule is (loosely) free.   

And, for it's ofter used, it cloys the ●a●e;  
nor so composed of Measures Musical;  
And not allowed that Beauty Verse mu●● bear,  
nor yet the Cadence so Harmonical.   

It's not adorned with choice of such rich Words,  
which heavenly Poesi● gracefully doth hear;  
Nor licenced that fine phrase▪ Art Verse affords,  
then, to divinest Spirits it should be dear:   

For, 'tis the Honey of all Rhetorics Flow'ers,  
the Quintessence of Art, and Soul of Wit;  
Right spirit of Words, true phrase of Heavenly Powers;  
and, in a Word; for Heaven, alonely, fit.   

But Time these Times, it seems, in Malice chose,  
to mischief Poets; for, it ne'er brought ●orth  
To this wild World (mad-merry still in Prose)  
such worthy Poets, yet so little worth.   

And, how should they be otherwise? for, they  
can twist no Lines, that hold eternal Rhyme,  
On Rocks of Art; but much Time turns away;  
so, get but Fame and Famine in that Time.   

For, Time they spend in that which none regards,  
but such as would, but can no Largesse give:  
While other Arts, more poor, get rich Rewards:  
so, Phoebus' Sons, by Luster, only, live!   

The Painter, that is Master of his Skill,  
and but with Earthly Colours paints (alone)  
Mere Forms of Beasts, hath oft Reward at Will;  
but, Poets Paintings, though divine, have none.   

But Painters, sith to Poets they draw nigh,  
(save that they draw inn Gold (unlike them) still)  
And, paint so lively in dumb Poesy,  
I wish their gain as great as is their Skill.   

For, Pictures speak, although they still be dumb;  
and what they cannot speak, they recompense  
With Demonstration; so, can Souls overcome,  
as soon by silence, as by Eloquence.   

But Trades (that do but Case the Corpse aright  
with our own Cost, (which oft they tei●h, at least)  
But ask and have: when they that cloth the Spirit  
in virtues Robes, are paid but with a jest.   

Which jesters Memories I wish may be  
'mong Trencher-Bustons, Fools, and Naturals,  
Preserved by Poets for Posterity  
to weep or laugh at, as the Humour falls.   

For, Poets best preserve the fame or shame  
of good or bad▪ sith with their powerful Pen,  
They give the Virtuous an immortal Names;  
but, make the vicious live, still loathed of Men.   

No earthly Matter (howsoever wrought,  
though it (withal) be raised above the Clouds)  
Can Fame uphold, but it will fall to nought:  
for, Earth, in Time, her bravest Buildings shrouds.   

Those Threatners of the Sky, proud Ilium,  
Byrza of Carthage, Tower of Babylon,  
Where are they now, with all their state, become?  
are they not all, to all Confusion gone?   

Where's Nero's golden-Palace, that drew dry  
(had it been● liquid) freest Founts of Gold?  
Asinius Pollioes' Court of Liberty,  
so rare for state, are now turned both to Mould.   

Nay, that proud Pyramed is come to nought,  
that, pight near Memphis, seemed to prop the Sky,  
Whereon, three-hundred-threescore-thousand wrought  
full twenty Years, before it wrought so high!   

Some Authors say, the Groundwork of the same  
took up an hundred Furlongs in the Round:  
Which higher rose, aspiring, like a Flame,  
yet now, of this, no Spark is to be found.   

Much less doth any Author testify  
what King (of Fame desirous) raised the same:  
A most just plague to check their vanity,  
that so-in Lime and Stone, entomb their Name.   

What rests of Scaurus amphitheatre,  
than which, I wot not whether all the Cost  
Caligula and Nero did confer  
on all their Buildings, most admired, were most!   

The Scene whereof, three Stages did contain,  
whereon three hundred Collumnes and threescore  
Of rarest Marble (decked with many a vain  
of orient Colours) held up either Floor.   

Which Pillars, eight and thirty Foot in height,  
were each but of one Piece, in each Degree;  
Wherein an hundred thousand people might  
be placed, secure, the Spectacles to see.   

And (in the midst) the Stage was all of Glass,  
made thick, to bear the Actor's weight thereon;  
Three Thousand Copper-statues all did grace;  
besides some Gold, and some refulgent Stone!   

And only for a Month (no longer than  
the Plays were playing) was it to endure:  
Yet, being but a Roman Citizen  
that made it such, his Fame still suits his power.   

The rather sith he, to adorn the Muse,  
this Cost bestowed; or else (perhaps) his Fame  
Had been, with Nero's, much, but monstrous;  
the Muse alone then, well renowns a Name.   

Yet, now her Agents are so poor become  
in Mind and state, that, for an abject Fee,  
They'll honour (to their shame) but HONOURS scum;  
yea, Deify a devil, if he be free.   

But, strong Necessity constrains the same,  
(as Israel's Singer did the showbread eat  
By like constraint) yet, they are Lords of FAME;  
and, where they charge with it, there's no retreat.   

For, though Time-present see it mis-bestowed,  
yet if Wit's Engine it do rarely raise,  
Of Times to come, It shall be so allowed,  
that both the praised and praiser, they will praise!   

Yet, speak a Language ●ew do apprehend;  
so few affect it: for, we nought affect,  
But what our Understandings comprehend;  
no marvel then the most this Art neglect.   

Nay, were't but so, yet Poesy still should find  
some grace with some, whom Art makes great, of vile:  
But now such think, it but distracts the Mind;  
for, broken-Braines such great-Ones Poet's style.   

Unfit for serious use, unfit for all  
that tends to perfect Man's Felicity;  
Light, idle, vain, and what we worse may call,  
yea, though it were the Scum of Vanity.   

And would these Truths were all true Fallacies,  
(though Poets used to none of these incline:  
For, personal faults are not the Faculties,  
that is not only faultless, but divine.)   

But 'tis too true in many that profess  
the Art; though Leaden Lumps: for, none can swim  
In Helicon without that Happiness,  
which, from his Mother's Womb, he brought with him.   

And, 'tis as true if Grace and Government,  
do not contain the Mind, in Raptures high,  
But it, of Wit, may make so large extent,  
as it may crack the strongest Ingeny.   

So may it do in other Mysteries,  
and that which we most praise, may most impeach:  
Divinity itself may soonest do this,  
if Grace withhold not from too high a Reach.   

Then, let this Art (which is the Angel's speech)  
(for, to the Highest they speak in nought but Hymns,  
Which, in the Womb, they do true Poets teach)  
be freed from speech, that but her glory dims.   

Then let the ignorant-great-highly base  
revile her ne'er so much, they but bewray  
Their own Defects thereby, and give but grace  
to Folly, darkened with Arts glorious Ray.   

But no great Spirit▪ (whose temper is divine,  
and dwells in real- GREATNESS) but adores  
The Heavenly MUSE, that in Arts Heaven doth shine  
like Phoebus, lending Light to other Lores.   

To you therefore (that Art predominate  
great in your Virtue, Skill, and Fortunes too)  
My Muse held meetest these Flights to consecrate,  
sith you most grace the Muse in most you do.   

And as the Sun doth glorify each Thing  
(how ever base) on which he deigns to smile:  
So, your clear Eyes do give resplendishing  
to all their Objects be they ne'er so vile:  
Then, look on These and Me, with such a Glance,  
That both may shine through your bright Countenance.   
The unfeigned lover, honourer, and admirer of your rare Perfections, john Davies of Hereford.   

The Sacrifices of God are a contrite Spirit: A contrite and a broken Heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. Psal. 51.17.  

A Broken Heart (dear LORD) thy Grace respects,  
as loves best Sacrifice; the, break my Heart  
To make it sound thereby, in his Affects;  
and Sin (that wounds It still) from It to part.   

How is it (Lord) that who so seeks thy Face  
must with the whole-heart se●ke the same to see?  
Yet Broken-hearts as soon do get thy Grace;  
so, whole or broken, are all One to Thee.   

Then, break my heart, to make it whole; that so  
(being broken quite, and made whole afterward)  
It, in thy Kingdom, still may currant go,  
made flat to take thy Print, with Pressures hard:  
That, though the Fiend abuse thy Form in me,  
It, through thy Test, may currant pass to Thee.    

Another of the same.  

AS in the Sacrifices of the Law,  
there was an Altar, Priest Host, Fire and Wood:  
So This to That, in likeness near doth draw;  
and wants but holy- Fire to make it good.   

The Altar, is my Hope; the Host, my Heart;  
the Priest, my Faith; my Love, the Fuel is:  
All these (o Lord) are ready; but the Art  
to fire the Fuel, wants; then, do thou This.   

I am but Passive in this holy Act,  
Thou the sole Agent: yet, o make me fi●  
To work with thee together in this Fact,  
with all the Forces of my Will and Wit:  
And sith (dear ●o●d) all things so ready be,  
Give Fire, to sacrifice my Heart to Thee!    

Another.  

DEscend sweet hallowed Fire from that high FLAME  
that ever burns in LOVES eternal Breast;  
consume this Sacrifice, and let the rest  
Lick up my Tears for Sin about the same:  
That Misbelievers thereby still may know  
There is no GOD but he that fired it so.   

I am no Prophet, Seër, Saint, nor aught,  
that may expect such Favour; but a Wretch  
made meek by Sin; yet Hands of Faith do stretch  
To thee, whom men profane, do set at nought:  
If Faith then, with thee work this wondrous Feat,  
They will confess my God as good, as great!    

To over-curious Critics.  

Ye over-curious Eyes (that nought can please  
produced by Art or Nature) o avert  
Your All-depraving-banefull looks from these  
pure Flames, that sacrifice our dying Heart.   

Here are no Novels (which ye most d●s●re)  
nor aught unusual; but, here shall you see  
What hath been said of old, in new Attire,  
with our Thoughts interlaced; so, ours they be.   

The Spider-webbe, which in her Womb is bred,  
we prise no more for that: nor, estimate  
Pure Honey less, for being gathered  
from many Sweets; nay, more (much more) for that:  
What we have gathered, is from others Flowers;  
And, what is added, is from sweetest of ours.    

To the Indifferent Readers.  

TO pray, in measured Syllables, is strange,  
Familiars with perverseness may conceive:  
But PIETY herself, allows this Change;  
and, for our Learning, doth Example leave.   

Her Friend (sweet Psalmist) sung his Soules-Conceits  
in sacred Numbers; and, the Heavens did Charm  
With powerful Verse: so, those commanding- Heights,  
he wan but with his Muses mighty Arm!   

All Christian- Church's (howsoever a● odds)  
with Psalms & Hymns beat Heavens resounding Wall:  
Nay, more, the Pagans sing unto their Gods;  
and, which is most, the Angels most o● all:  
Then, sith both Heaven and Earth This still do use,  
He shames himself that for this blames our Muse.    

The Author, of, and to his Muse.  

MY Muse is tired with tiring but on Leaves  
that fruitless are; yet, leave ill fruits behind:  
She only works for Air, that but deceives:  
so, works for nothing, but deceitful Wind.   

And what she seizeth, as her Subject, is  
but vain, if it be light; and lightly what  
She preys upon, is such: then, now on This,  
she needs to pray, for preying so on That.   

O Muse, didst thou but know thy native kind,  
(being all divine) thou ne'er wouldst wave thy wings  
In that which doth but only mar the Mind;  
but, endlessly, about Celestial Things.   

Th'wilt be deplumed for pluming so on Trash,  
and (like a Flesh-fly) lighting but on Sores;  
Then, in Arts fairest Founts, thy Feathers wash,  
to fly to him that Heaven and Earth adores!   

Thy Raptures else, are but such Ravishments,  
as are reproachful, penal, lewd, and light:  
But Raptures far above the Elements,  
do show thy Virtue in the fairest ●light.   

O then, thou great unlimitable Muse,  
(that rests, in motion, in th'ETERNALS Breast)  
Inspire my Muse, with grace her power to use  
in nought, but what to thee shall be addressed:  
So shall that Spirit that made thy David sing,  
Make Davies too, (a Beggar) like a King.    

THE MUSES SACRIFICE.  

A Confession of sins, with petition for grace.  

O Trinall Union, God creating Gods,  
O sole resistless all-effecting Power,  
When wilt atone twixt me and thee the odds?  
Till when, eternal I account each how'r.   

I am (O Lord) thy Creature re-created;  
Made, marred, remade, by Love, by Sin, by Grace:  
Shall Love, and Grace, by Sin be so defeated,  
That Love should lose her labour; Grace, her place?   

Thou art the Salve, and I the mortal Sore;  
Yet with one touch, thy virtue can revive me:  
To heal this Sore, a Spear thy heart did gore,  
(Kind Pelican) that thy Blood might relieve me,   

Thy Hands that formed, reformed, and me conformed  
Were to a Cross transfixed for my sake,  
To help my hateful hands that sin inormed;  
Then can those helping Hands their Cure forsake?   

Thy Head was crowned with Thorny Diadem,  
To cure mine, crowned with Sins sweet-pricking Roses:  
Thy body (ah) did blood & water stream,  
To wash away sins soil which mine encloses.   

Thy Feet was crosswise nailed to a Cross,  
To heal mine, swollen with running into vice:  
On thy saire Skin whips did my Crimes engross,  
So freedst thou me from them with bloody price.   

Then can such Love now leave the thing it loved?  
Is Sin so sour to turn sweet Love to Hate?  
To die for Sin, it thee alone behooved,  
And yet shall Sin thy Death's desert abate?   

O God forbid; sith Sin, and Death, and Hell,  
Thou on the Cross didst conquer through thy death,  
And by the power thereof their power didst quell  
To lowest deeps, and it restrained beneath.   

Besides, thou sayst (but Truth what canst thou say?)  
A Gulf is set the two Extremes between;  
Twixt Heaven and Hell no intercourses may  
(By means thereof at any time) be seen.   

I am in Heaven; for, in thy glorious Wounds  
By Faith I hide me, from Sin, Death and Hell:  
If Satan (for my plague) would break his bounds,  
Those Gulfs of grace to stay will him compel.   

Then keep me in thy Wounds (my souls sole heaven)  
From whence if outcast, I to Hell must fall;  
Where out-cast-like of Hope shall be bereau'n:  
If reft of Hope, then reft of Help withal.   

But help me (Lord) else hopeless shall I be;  
Thy help the hopeful never failed at need:  
Then, sith my hope of help alone's in thee,  
Let speedy help my ready hope succeed.   

Upon thine Hand thine hand hath writ my Name;  
Then read thy Hand, and save me by the same.    

A Sinners acknowledgement of his Vileness and Mutability.  

SPare me (dear Lord) my days as nothing be,  
Consumed in Sin, than which is nothing worse:  
Yet Sin is nothing: yet can well agree  
With nothing but thy vengeance and thy curse.   

Yet is it that, without which none can live,  
Sprung from our Protoparents (roots of strife)  
Linked to that Curse; that Life a cross doth give,  
not cross of Life, but cross in Book of Life.   

Then happy that, that Life yet never had;  
(Life that still subject is to such a cross)  
And hapless I that live in life so bad,  
Where life is found with life's eternal loss.   

Ah what am I, but slime, dirt, dung and dust,  
Graue-monste●s food, worms pittance (most impure)  
Sprung from the earth & unto earth that must?  
How, where, or when, I (sure) am most unsure.   

Abortive Brat of damned Concupiscence,  
Hell's heir, heavens hate, eternal food for Fire,  
A Gulf of grief, and Sink of foul offence,  
Scum of vain Pride, and froth of damned Desire:   

Copesmate of Beasts, and to a Beast transformed,  
A Dungeon dark, a loathsome Lump of Earth,  
farthel of filth, prodigious, foul, deformed,  
Dishonours vassal, cursed child of Wrath:   

Pattern of Vice, and Mould of Vanity,  
Made of the Mould that mars what ere it makes;  
Errors misse-maze, where lost is Verity,  
Or blinded so, that still wrong course it takes:   

A Bramble briar, an useless barren Plant,  
A Dog, a Hog, a Viper most unkind,  
A Rock of wrack, dry Well of every Want,  
A Weathercock, more wavering then the wind:   

A thing of nought, a naughty thing, that mars  
What Goodness makes; a damned incarnate Devil;  
Contentions Source, loves hate, still causing jars,  
A baneful weed, and Root of every evil:   

What shall I say? A Map of misery,  
Confusion's Chaos, Frailties Spectacle,  
The World's disease, Time's ugliest Prodigy;  
Th'abuse of Men, and should 〈…〉 ●btectacle.   

Mortal, and to a Bubble suitable,  
Whose flesh as Flowers, whose life as Hours consumes,  
Of matter made, more than most mutable,  
Yet (sure of certain death) of life presumes:   

Frail life, which more it lasts, the sooner worn,  
The longer drawn, the shorter is the date,  
Hedged in with cares, as with an Hedge of Thorn;  
Whose piercing pricks the mind do vulnerate.   

If merry now, anon with woe I weep;  
If lusty now, forthwith am water-weake;  
If now alive, anon am buried deep;  
That hour that glads the heart, the heart doth break:   

One while I laugh, another while I lower;  
Now joy in Grief, and then in joy I grieve;  
Now wake in Care, then sleep I strait secure,  
Now I despair, than Hope doth me relieve;   

Now sigh for sin, than sin, so sigh in vain;  
Now mind I Heaven, than Earth excogitate;  
Now fast and pray, than feast and prate again;  
Now labours end, then labours renovate;   

Now am I loose, then lose I liberty;  
Now sound, then sick; now up, then down I fall;  
Now am I safe, and then in jeopardy;  
Now overco 〈…〉 then, put to the wall;   

Now I discourse, than (mute again) I muse;  
Now seek the World, then search I for thy Ways;  
Now am abused, and then I do abuse;  
Now hate, than love; now praise, then strait dispraise;   

Now This I long for, by and by for That;  
This now delights me; then with that am cloyed;  
Now would have this, and then I wot not what:  
And thus with This, and That, am still annoyed.   

To count the countless vain varieties  
Wherewith this mortal life surrounded is,  
Or to recite our veins in vanities,  
I may (as of the Stars) the reckoning miss.   

All that this earthy Boowle on breast doth bear  
Is subject most to most unconstant state:  
One moment makes as if they never were,  
And every minute draws them to their date.   

The heat, the cold▪ the hunger, thirst, and all  
The miseries that life (frail life) annoy,  
(Which swarming hide this Globe terrestrial)  
No Tongue can tell, though all their powers employ.   

Death seconds these, (if not the second Death)  
Who with his fatal Fan sweeps all away,  
At All (saith he) whose nostrils bound their breath;  
Thus carelessly (at All) with All doth play.   

One dies with Sickness, Thought another kills;  
With Hunger this, with Thirst that man doth pine:  
Some Water chokes, an Halter others spills:  
Some Fire consumes, some Beasts devour in fine.   

This man he murders with the ruthless Sword;  
That man with Poison he doth suffocate:  
With Bullet this; that with a bitter Word  
He ends; and others end with worse Fate.   

No Flesh (though framed in height of Nature's skill,  
With composition more than half divine)  
But it is subject made to death, until  
Th'immortal do that mortal flesh refine.   

Thus all he ends; yet none their ends foreknow,  
A secret 'tis, to Death himself unknown:  
Whom he must strike thy finger (Lord) must show,  
Nor dares he shoot till thou the Mark hast shown.   

To some he is thy mercy's Minister;  
To other some the Engine of thy wrath:  
This sadness to my Soul doth minister,  
For, bleeding Conscience many faintings hath:   

But wash the same with thy sweet mercy's dew,  
And it anoint with unction spiritual,  
Then health, and rest, and peace shall strait ensue,  
Which to my Conscience will be cordial:   

I have discoursed to thine all-hearing Ears  
My dismal plight, in doleful Elegy,  
With Tragic accents, accents causing tears,  
(Sad tears) attending matchless misery:   

Thy pities Ear therefore, bow down, O Lord,  
To these most pensive, and most just complaints:  
Let mercies Eyes, with pities Ears accord,  
To cheer the conscience that with bleeding faints:   

In hope were of my soul shall rest in peace,  
Till thou vouchsafe to send her full release.    

A Confession of a Sinner, acknowledging the misery of human frailty.  

Celestial Lord, Creator of this ALL,  
Embracer, Prop, and Ruler of the same,  
Whose unseen Eye beholds the general,  
And singly seest at once this double Frame,  
O vail that Christall-cleere allseeing eye,  
On utter-darknesse, that, Lord, that am I.   

Mine Intellect is dark, dark my soul's sight;  
My body dark (dark dungeon of my soul)  
Is opposite (for darkness) to thy light,  
What can be darker, or more ugly foul?  
Thus darkness striving much more dark to be,  
(Hell being too light) infused itself in me.   

O justice Sun with Taper pointed beams,  
Dart through this Darkness, open loops for light,  
By which the influence of thy lights leams  
Through my dark soul may be dispersed quite:  
For what is that which extreme darkness clears  
But extreme light of lights, when it appears?   

Where extreme darkness harbours, there is Hell,  
In me (dear Lord of Heaven) that hell is placed,  
My heart (hard heart) wherein all horrors dwell,  
With vexing thoughts (like Fiends) away doth waste:  
My Conscience quite confounded with my miss,  
Is lowest Hell, where highest Anguish is.   

Descend sweet Christ, and harrow with thy Cross  
This hell of Conscience, flee my soul from thence;  
It is thine own (dear Lord) it is thy loss,  
If it do perish through my sins offence:  
Why, sin is nothing; then for thing of nought  
Lose not my soul (poor purchase) dearly bought.   

In Death's dark shade (o'er-shadowed with my sin  
Upon the black pit brinck of deep Despair)  
I lie, (dear Lord) half out, but more half in;  
Help, help, o help, Lord hear, Lord hear my prayer  
Now, now, o now, if ever, help me now,  
I sink, I sink, help ere I sink too low.   

Remember Lord, Lord call to mind again  
The drops (strange drops) of Water mixed with Blood  
Which from thy paine-prest Body ran amain,  
What time on ground it lay in pensive mood:  
If then thou praid'st that Cup might pass from thee,  
I well may pray let this Cup pass from me.   

A Cup of cares, confected by sour sin,  
Baning my Soul with bitter operation:  
Let this Cup pass before I do begin;  
Lest it effect my crazed souls damnation.  
O thou that feltst frail man's infirmity,  
Respect frail Me, else in despair I die.   

Whose Faith (too like a feather in the wind)  
Is tossed with the least temptations blast:  
With doubtings daunted; when the faithful find  
A calm in conscience till such storms are past:  
But I (vile wretch) am tossed to and fro,  
With every Storm that rise, or Blast that blow.   

See Lord (ah see) see, see, how all my Veins  
Do pant with pain, through sense of my misdeeds:  
Behold my Heart, wherein all sorrow reigns,  
(Griefe-wounded heart) behold it how it bleeds:  
O pour therein thy precious Balms of grace,  
That from thy wounded Heart do run apace.   

Where's Much forgiven, Love must there be much;  
Forgive me Much, much more shall be my loue●  
I have Much to forgive, no sinner such;  
My Sin surmounting, Love shall be above:  
Forgive me then, and I in Love will strive  
To match that more then Much thou dost forgive.   

Be thou for me unto the Old of days,  
My Daysman so, to stay his anger's heat;  
That for thy sake he would vouchsafe to raise  
His vengeance siege, which my Souls wrack doth threat.  
O tell him to his Grace, I (weakling) yield,  
And give him praise and glory of the Field.   

O pray him bend his pu'sance on the proud,  
Whose brazen Necks will rather break then bow:  
I, creeping on my knees, do seek for shroud,  
Till Tempests of his fury over-blow:  
And like a Spaniel at his masters threat,  
In humble wise fall prostrate at his feet.   

With eyes uplifted slowly by degrees,  
And lifted so, are thrown down strait again,  
With face confounded on his humbled knees,  
Invoking mercy, yet doth mute remain:  
O so, even so, do I (poor wretched I)  
At foot but of his Footstool crouching lie.   

If this may move, and moving may provoke  
Thy sans-beginning Sire in Love to stay  
Of his just vengeance the resistless stroke  
(A touch whereof doth Rocks to po●der bray)  
I will ascribe the praise (o Christ) to thee  
Sith for thy sake alone, he spareth me.   

My strength's not stony, nor my flesh yet brass;  
O no, than weakness much more weak it is;  
Apt still to fall, more brittle far then glass;  
Composed of that, that's more than most amiss:  
O how unable then am I to bear  
His heavy vengeance stroke, that rocks doth tear?   

With hands of Mercy stay my sinking Soul,  
Which were, in mercy, mercilessly wounded,  
For me (vile wretch) and for my trespass foul,  
That Grace might over abound where Sin abounded.  
They are not shortened since they racked were  
For Sin, that Sin might sinless so appear.   

With those same hands (dear Lord) my Soul sustain  
Oppressed with Po●se that made thy manhood groan:  
My load's as great, though far less be my pain,  
Whose sin's as great as all the worlds, alone:  
Then Worlds of Sin when on my back I bear,  
What marvel is't I faint, if not despair?   

Froth of Infirmity, and Weakness scum,  
I am no other; how then should I bear  
The heavy sentence of true justice doom  
If to this Load of Sin it added were?  
None but a God and Man can bear that weight,  
Sith God & Man bowed underneath that freight.   

I am far spent, o be not far from me,  
I panting labour near the latest gasp.  
My Soul dismayed, not knowing where to flee,  
With hands of Hope (wan Hope) at thee doth grasp.  
Fasten their fingers, give them strength to hold,  
As anchors sure, in roughest Tempests would.   

Kind Lord, sole comfort, hope of each poor wretch,  
With Eyes converting Peter, look on me:  
Those glittering Suns their beams of comfort, stretch  
To cursed'st sinners if they contrite be:  
Then, let those sacred Sunbeams gild with grace  
My black despairing Soul, and rue her case.    

The longing of the Soul to be with God.  

Soul-searching Lord, and sole selfe-searching God;  
Let my poor Soul thy unknown sweetness know.  
Thy staying Staff, & sin-correcting Rod  
On me, on me (sweet Love) in love bestow.   

Strength of my weakness, my great weakness strength,  
guide thou my Goings, stay my stumbling feet:  
My stumbling feet establish (Lord) at length,  
in paths that are as pure, as sure and sweet.   

Eye of mine Eye, let my dim Eye behold thee;  
(Dimmed with the hellish mist of damned desires)  
joy of my heart, o let my heart enfold thee,  
and take my Spirit, that still to thee aspires.   

O Beauties Beauty, wound my heart with Love:  
Life of my life, let my life live in thee;  
In thee I have my being, live and move,  
Of me but thou, than who should mover be?   

Celestial Bridegroom, kiss thy Spouse, my Soul,  
With kisses sweet of unconceived peace;  
On thy transpierced palm her name enrol,  
With thy sinne-purging blood my sins release.   

Mellefluous Sweetness (sweetening sweetest sweets)  
Sweeten my Sour (sour Leaven of offence)  
Season my flesh's Lump with matter meet  
For Sacrifice sweet smelling to thy sense.   

O Goodness, let me (Badness) thee embrace  
With holdfast arms of everlasting love:  
O Well of Life, in this dry barren place,  
Quench thou my thirst for thee which here I prove.   

Be thou to me a plague preventing Tower,  
When plagues●ngirt ●ngirt my Soul with fierce assault:  
My forceless force, then strengthen with thy power,  
that if overborn, yet not through my Wills fault.   

Do open the entries of my deafened Ears,  
Deaf with the din of words, breathed by despair:  
O thundering Voice, that Hell from Heaven hears,  
Break through the bars that let thy words repair.   

O let the deeps, in dreadful harmony,  
Their Billows tune unto that awful voice;  
Let Heaven and Earth (in joint conspiracy)  
with it accord, to drowned Sins hellish noise.   

Turn thou mine Eyes, with fearful Lightnings flash,  
From Eye-bewitching Objects of offence:  
Deaden my flesh, my bones to ponder dash,  
That dead to Sin, may quick in thee, have sense.   

Increase thy Streams, lay open the water-springs,  
That Earth's foundations (proplesse) may appear;  
My earthly thoughts, all soiled with earthly things,  
Thy troubles streams (through mercy strained) will clear.   

O light unseen (enlightening all that see)  
Lighten mine eyes that they may see thy light,  
That light that with no darkness can agree,  
O light of lights present that to my sight.   

Savour of life, give new life to my smell;  
That on the sent of thy divine perfumes,  
I may run after thee through Heaven and Hell,  
Through comfort, or through care that life consumes.   

O touch my sensual ill-affected Taste  
With finger of thy sweet life-giving Love,  
That it may prove the sweetness which thou hast,  
Which may thy sweetness to my soul approve.   

Give me a Mind to mind thee, Heart to love thee;  
Soul to adore thee, Spirit to discern thee:  
A reason that may in reason most approve thee,  
And Reason most, for that doth most concern thee.   

O lively Sweet! o sweet Life-giving Life;  
O let my Love in thy loves life be bounded,  
The life of love portcullized from strife,  
which lively life, with lovely love's surrounded!   

O life! my life, life without which I die,  
(O labyrinth of life, o maze of love!)  
Where shall I find thee? sweet love, when shall I  
my love to love, and life to life remove?   

O where art thou, thou great all-moving mover?  
Can clouds encompass thy uncompast Greatness?  
(Thou endless life, unlimitable lover)  
No, no sweet love, then show to me thy sweetness!   

Be near me in my heart, my mind, my mouth,  
near in my hearing, and each other sense:  
near in mine age, and near me in my youth,  
near in mine end, to end without offence.   

Through ardent love, I pine away for thee;  
For want of thee (dear sweet) my Soul is sad;  
Then longd-for lovely love, appear to me,  
And with thy glorious presence make me glad.   

Thy sense-refreshing sent my Spirit revives;  
To mind thee's Nectar to my thirsty Soul,  
Thy Inspiration, Consolation gives,  
Such consolations as all cares control.   

But yet, o yet, even as the chased Hart  
For water thirsts, so thirsts my Soul for thee;  
For thee (sweet love) for my soul's soul thou art,  
Without which soul can my soul living be?   

O when shall I (dear Lord) unworthy I  
Appear in thy pure Palace Christiline?  
My mounting Spirit (winged with Desire) doth fly  
Above itself, to see that Court of thine!   

joy of my soul, when, when (ay me) o when  
Shall I with eyes immortal, see thy glory?  
Alas I live a dying life till then,  
Till when my longing soul can be but sorry.   

O why turnst thou (my joy, my hearts desire!)  
Thy Sunne-ecclipsing glorious face from me?  
Where art thou hid? Earth, Water, air or Fire  
Cannot contain the smallest glimpse of thee!   

Then where art hid? (o changeless fairest Fair)  
For whom my ravished soul, in love doth languish,  
The smell of whom life's ruins doth repair,  
Though life assailed be with mortal anguish.   

But ah (ay me) I see, I see thee not,  
And that I cannot, kills my loving heart;  
Yet when I hear thy voice I have forgot  
What me annoyed, and joy suppresseth smart.   

But why (ah why) from me hidest thou thy face?  
Perhaps thou ●aist, Man cannot, living, see it:  
Be't so (sweet Lord) I fain would death embrace,  
To see the same; so be it, o so be it.   

Here let me die, that I may see thee There,  
There, where my Soul so much desires to see it:  
That life as death I hold that holds me here,  
Then let me die, so be it, o so be it.   

feign would my Soul this farthel of my Flesh  
Lay down at ghastly Death's unfleshy feet,  
That, being consumed, I may resume afresh  
immortal flesh, for thy pure presence meet.   

O Christ, my jesus, take my spirit to thee,  
(My spirit aspiring clogged with flesh's weight)  
It's jaild too long, it longs let loose to be,  
And every moment for release doth wait.   

My joy draw thou my heart, that joys in nought  
but in thy joy sole joy of blissful hearts:  
To thy true joy, whose griess such bliss hath bought,  
which bliss my griefs (with joy) to bliss converts.   

Enter into me, Sweetness, make me sweet,  
Sweet joy possess me, make me (sad) rejoice:  
Eternal light shine on me, make me meet  
To see and know, and love thee as my Choice.   

The cause I love not, is, I know thee not:  
I know thee not in not perceiving thee;  
I not perceive; for, darkness light doth blot,  
Light shines in darkness, yet It cannot see.   

Who sees thee, knows; who knows thee still doth love thee,  
Who sees, & knows, & loves thee, loves his soul:  
To see, to know, to love thee, grace must move me;  
For flesh doth fancy by-paths, filthy foul!   

Who knows thee, shall of force himself forget,  
Who loves thee as his life, his life will loathe;  
Yea, lose his life, that he his life may get,  
Immortal making Soul and Body both.   

But I alas (accursed that I am)  
For extern joy, from intern bliss doth range;  
My fairest solace, is my foulest shame,  
My sense betrayed, the best for worst doth change.   

Here-hence it is, I like not that thou lov'st:  
I (wretch) love outward, but thou inward joy:  
I fleshly pleasures, spiritual thou approu'st;  
I abject things, which things thee most annoy.   

Thou art in Heaven, and I in Earth do dwell,  
Nay, Heaven of Heavens is thine abiding place;  
But I in Earth, as low as lowest Hell  
Remain, and joy in pain, in senseless case.   

Thou light, I dark; thou good, I passing bad,  
Thou joy, I grief; thou love, I lump of hate;  
Thou wise, I fond; thou meek, with pride, I mad;  
Thou rich, (most rich) and I in starving state.   

Then how (dear Lord) should so great difference  
Be reconciled, and linked in unity?  
Ah here's my fear, here's all my diffidence!  
Then help, o help, help holy Trinity.   

In that all-doing powerful power of thine,  
Mend mine amiss, and me to Thee combine.    

The Complaint of a Sinner.  

IN the vexation of an humbled Spirit,  
Devoured in the depth of wretched State:  
With fear and trembling I approach thy fight,  
As one, dear Lord, as poor, as desolate!   

Near to thy mercy's floods, myself I set,  
Upon the Banks of thy rich Grace's streams;  
That my dry Soul may so therewith be wet,  
Before the Sun of justice scorching Beams.   

Lo, I a mass of rude unformed Clay,  
Present myself to thine All-making skill;  
To do all my deformities away,  
And to inform my Wit, reform my Will.   

Great is my boldness so to tempt thy Grace  
With such presumption; but (dear Lord) let me  
Make bold thy love (still tendered) to embrace,  
Lest strange to It, I might be strange to Thee.   

Yet, when I weigh mine own unworthiness,  
Together with thy loves high dignity;  
I am too bold with It, I do confess,  
To entertain It to such misery.   

I am too vile to love, or to be loved  
Of thee (dear Lord) the life of dearest Love;  
Yet by thy Love, to love I still am moved,  
Though I thy love, to hate, do ever move.   

Thou dost command (give, what command thou dost,  
Than what thou wilt command, It shall be done,)  
That I should love beyond mine uttermost,  
As thou dost love beyond comparison.   

In Love thou mad'st me, only but to love;  
And me re-mad'st in love, to love alone:  
Thou threatenest me, if I unloving prove;  
And wouldst that we, though two, should be as One.   

Yea, for my love thou (ceaseless) so dost woe me,  
That seeing me (in love) quite dull and dead,  
Thou givest me Thee; that I should give me to thee,  
In form of Flesh, as thou in form of Bread.   

Lord, what am I, that thou shouldst woe me so.  
And seek t'inflame my love with thy loves heat?  
What am I to Thee, but a world of woe?  
A little World, of Sin, past measure great!   

A Cross of Crosses; for, so cross I am,  
That every thing I do, is quite athwart;  
And, that which is most cross, I bless the same  
As that which most agrees with my curst-heart.   

And what art thou to me but peace and rest,  
Salvation, joy, and whatsoe'er is good?  
By whom I (most accursed) most am blest,  
Who mad'st me blameless in thy blessed blood.   

Then of such pledges of thy Love possessed,  
And that but love alone thy love doth crave:  
O give me that which thy love doth request,  
And I will give thee what thy Love would have.   

Ill, I can give Thee; that, is only mine;  
But Good, I have from Thee, thy gift it is:  
If thou wilt none of mine, then give me thine;  
Take that from me, dear Lord, and give me this.   

Thou art not pleased but with what's only thine;  
Yet, I am thine; and yet not pleased thou art:  
If thou have nought with me, but what is mine,  
Although I gave to thee me dearest heart.   

For, as it is my Heart, it's most unclean;  
And all uncleanness thou dost most detest:  
Then, thou art both the cause, effect, and mean,  
That thou dost love it, as thine interest.   

Yet, as mine own I have (what have I not  
with it, that is not absolutely good?)  
My Christ; but, ah, alas I have forgot  
Thou gav'st him first, & boughtst me with his blood.   

But yet that's all I have, (that's all in all)  
To give thee, as goods common us betwixt;  
To me He came from Thee; to thee He shall  
For me, in passion, with my passions mixed.   

If mine be such, as make his much the more,  
They his are much more meritorious:  
And yet if Mine be covered with his gore,  
Then will deserve thy love and fasten us!  
Then take him Lord, I have none other shift  
To show my Love, but with thine only Gift.    

The thirst of the Soul after God, the Fountain of Life.  

MIne heavenly Head, give me, thy Member, grace  
Thee to desire; desiring, thee to seek:  
Seeking, to find; finding, to love thy face:  
And, loving, loath what is thee most unlike.   

To my Heart, Faith; to mine Eyes floods of tears;  
To my Soul, grief; to that grief, joy of Spirit:  
To my Faith, Hope; to my Hope, Love and Fear;  
And, unto all, give all direction right.   

O Love essential! increated Love!  
love infinite! the Fount of Love and Grace:  
With power overflowing all the powers above;  
Or whatsoever is in blessed case!   

How can I choose but love thee? how can I  
But with such flaming Love be fired quite?  
That fires the whole World's University,  
Yea, well-nigh burns, & melts the same outright!   

O God thou art the most abstracted GOOD;  
Which, yet abstracted, art much more abstract!  
Which is loves Object, and Life's livelihood:  
Which doth my Love to Love, in Love, co-acted!   

How can I choose but flame, so set on fire  
With love, which burns what ere, in love was made?  
What, but that Love, can quench my loves desire?  
Or me, to Love, so powerfully persuade?   

And if I cannot love Thee for thy Love,  
Nor for thy goodness being more than GOOD,  
Yet, me thereto should Profit more than move;  
For, of all Good thouart the boundless flood.   

Youth loves the Eld, from whom it Being draws;  
The Members love the Head, by whom they live:  
And all Effects, by nature, love their Cause;  
Sith It to those Effects doth Essence give.   

Then sith thou art my Cause, my Head, my Sir●,  
Look what Those owe to These, by whom they be,  
(Nay, more; for, thou art all in all entire)  
That LORD, and more than That, I owe to Thee!   

Thou gav'st me Being, ere my Sire it gave:  
For, with Thee was I, ere I was of Thee!  
And now preseru'st the Being which I have,  
Better than by the Head the Members be.   

Thou dost effect what in me wanting is;  
(And from my second Cause my wants proceed)  
Then what can cause so good effect as this,  
But thou whose Will is still in act and dead?   

Look what I am at best, I am by Thee;  
And when at worst, in thee my hope still is:  
For, as no one, but Tho●, could fashion me;  
So none, but Thou, can mend my least amiss.   

Then what I am in deed or else in hope,  
(When I am best in both) of thee I am:  
Thou art my Soul and bodies utmost scope;  
Thou mad'st them both, than oughst to have the same.   

If then Thou be my Beauty's beauty; yea,  
The beauty of my Souls divinest Part,  
(For Thou of beauty art the bancklesse Sea)  
Who then but thou should wholly have my Heart?   

O Love, that burnest in heavens eternal Breast!  
O Dart that woundest the whole Tr●nitie!  
O more, much more, than Crosse-wound me at least;  
And let that Fire still burn me till I die.   

O let my Soul melt Lord in thine applause,  
Through holy-raging Flames of quenchless Love;  
O cause of causes, this vouchsafe to cause;  
And let these Flames their force upon me prove.   

O holy, holy, holy Trinity!  
Most holy Father! and most gracious Son!  
Most loving holy-ghost, in Unity  
A Trinity, and but one God alone!   

When, when, o when will you three dwell in me?  
And make me one with you, as one you are?  
Of three make, four; and one of one and three:  
Your Essence keep, let me your goodness share.   

When will it be? o when? o were it now!  
Shall I ne'er see it? o how long delay!  
O tedious tarrying! how, o LORD, o how  
Shall I strait rest in thee, mine only stay?   

Haste thee, my jesus▪ haste (dear Love) make haste,  
I cannot stay; then come (my joy) o come;  
My haste is great, and I but Time do waste,  
Till I thy Love, and Time do overcome.   

O my Souls Centre! my Wills sweet repose!  
Light of my Minds Eye! my Thoughts Paradise!  
Heaven of my Heart! Companion of my Woes!  
Salue of my Sores! Cure of my Maladies!   

joy of mine Exile! and my Guide therein;  
Breath of my Nostrils! End of my Desires!  
judge of my Life, Forgiver of my Sin!  
O all in all, whereto mine All aspires!   

If thou be these, and all in all to me,  
Can I forget thee during but a Thought?  
If so I should, let me remembered be  
With pinching plagues to mind thee as I ought.   

If I so much forget myself and thee,  
Let my right Hand forget her cunning quite:  
Nay, let me not remember what I see;  
That Memory so wronged, may mind thy right.   

No sleep mine Eyes, no rest mine Head shall have,  
Till thou my Head, within my Heart do rest:  
Then enter Love, to enter o vouchsafe,  
It is but what thou offerest I request:  
Then let this offer of my Will and Love,  
Move me to that, to which thou me dost move.    

An acknowledgement of God's gifts, with desire of union with the Giver.  

IF we for fading Gifts are ever bound  
To love our Friends (for Gifts still love do breed)  
And if the Fire do more, or less abound,  
According as the Fuel It doth feed:   

Then o! how great a Flame of endless love  
Should (o dear Lord) still feed upon mine All:  
Sith past all measure I thy bounties prove;  
And feedest this Fire with Vnction-spirituall!   

If the whole frame of Nature; nay, sweet Lord,  
If Heaven and Earth, and all they do contain,  
Be but mere Gifts, which thou dost me afford,  
Then how should Love but in me more than reign?   

And that so much the more, because there be  
In thee, beside, all Causes causing love;  
Which, in their highest perfection, are in thee!  
Then, can such Motives but much more than move?   

If Goodness I respect, in thee it is  
As far from Limit as Similitude:  
For thou art (LORD) the boundless Sea of Bliss,  
Because thou art the highest Beatitude.   

If Beauty I regard, than thou art He  
That art the Fount from whence all Beauty flows:  
Whose Face the Angels still desire to see,  
Whose Influence their Faces overflows!   

If Bounty; then, who is so liberal  
As thou (self- bounty) that dost, gratis, give  
All, and much more (in deed) then all, to All:  
By which they more than liberally do live.   

If Riches; who so rich as he that owes  
What not? If Being; or what can be beside:  
If Friendship; who so kind? who, for his Foes,  
Did Death, with torment, willingly abide.   

If Likeness be a cause that love effects;  
Then who like that, by which I am, but thou?  
For thou mad'st it like thee●n ●n all respects,  
Save that, like thee▪ it knows not where, nor how!   

And, if the END; for which we all things do,  
(The Final END) be infinitely loved;  
Then who mine ALPHA, and OMEGA too,  
But thou, to whom, by Nature, I am moved?   

From thee to Thee, by only Nature's skill,  
I come, and go; but go not as I came:  
For, I came from thee just, as thou art still,  
But do return oppressed with sin and shame.   

If then to be thine Image, with the rest,  
Be several motives (strong) of Love entire,  
Then what ought that to be bred of the best  
Nay bread of all, but loves eternal fire?   

For, as the Sea is greater than each Flood,  
Which from, and to her Bosom ever moves:  
So, is thy Goodness greater than each Good;  
And thy love more than other lasting loves.   

Ah Lord! what made thee make me, but that love?  
What to redeem me but that tender mood?  
Of nought thou mad'st me (which can nothing move  
Being Nought) and me redeemest, to make me good.   

O let me stretch the arms of mine Affects,  
To hold thee to the Breast of my d●sires:  
O cause of sweetness, cause these sweet effects;  
And make my Breast the Furnace for these Fires.   

The ivy still doth clip her neighbouring Tree,  
Because thereby it is ●d●anced oft:  
Then will I cling to that on Caluaree;  
Because, thereby, I shall be raised aloft.   

The ivy spreads her branches not so far,  
Nor by a Cedar so advanced can be,  
As my Souls powers increased in virtue are,  
And made to mount by virtue of this Tree.   

Then o that all my bodies Limbs were Arms,  
That I, on every side, might it embrace!  
Thy Cross (o Christ) doth bless all thine from harms;  
And with joy comforts them in woeful case!   

O Christ that did the Crosses Tree ascend,  
That so thou mightst draw all things unto thee;  
O draw me then, let my life with thine end;  
That so my life, with thine, may endless be!   

Thou that didst Deity to Manhood knit  
(Two Natures so in Nature different!)  
Making one person of them, infinite,  
To make me one with the Omnipotent,  
Grant that the virtue of that UNION  
May ever make us more entire than ONE.    

A thankful remembrance of our preservation notwithstanding our manifold sins.  

WIth wounded Spirit I salute thy Wound●,  
O all-bewounding Sacrifice for Sin!  
For, my Souls health from thy Heart's hurt redounds,  
Because thou diedst to live my Heart within.   

With what love shall I quite such wondrous Love,  
That comes from such unheard-of Clemency?  
Who art thou, and who am I, that can move  
heavens God t'immure himself in misery?   

That thou whose Glory, Glory itself admires,  
Shouldst deign to dwell in dirt, more vile than dung:  
Sith Holiness, sweet Lord, thy House requires,  
Which hardly rests where many vices throng.   

Heaven is thy Seat, the Earth thy Footstool is;  
(For Heaven and Earth thy Majesty doth fill!  
Then why, great God, art thou well pleased with this  
That thou art made but Mud for mire so ill?   

For, if the Heaven, nay, Heaven of Heavens be  
But too too small thy greatness to contain;  
Then how can my heart, less than nought, hold thee?  
How in a Bit of Wormes-meate canst thou reign?   

O Wonder! that all Marvels far surmounts,  
He that upon the Cherubins doth ride,  
And views all Deeps from thence, himself dismounts  
That he may in my Heart, (deep Hell) abide!   

It not sufficed thy glowing Charity  
To give me Angels for my Guards and Guides,  
Nay, wast not only pleased for me to die,  
But dwellest in me to give me life besides!   

There dost thou visit, in the kindest kind,  
The Sick (sore sick!) to give him health thereby?  
Sore sick in Body, but more sick in Mind:  
And raise the Dead, that willingly did die.   

My Soul exulteth (with joy ravished)  
When as I mind that Miracle; how once  
A Prophets dead Bones raised to life the Dead,  
Only by touching those life-giving Bones!   

If those dead Bones had such reviving power,  
Then, what shall not Gods living Body do?  
The living Body of Life's Governor,  
Must needs give endless Life and Glory too.   

And if dead Bones, conceived in Sin, have might  
To give life to a sinful Body, dead;  
What shall that do conceived by thy Spirit?  
That, must needs life-inspire e'en senseless Bread.   

My Soul though dead in Sin, yet touching Thee  
By Faith; and in thy blood being sanctified,  
Can it but more than live in Thee and me,  
When Thou therein dost more than still abide?   

And sith that Corpses was raised that craved not life,  
By touching those dead Bones; then, Lord let me  
(That, as my Husband, clip thee, as thy Wise)  
Be raised to life, that beg the same of thee.   

I cannot think (because I think of thee  
as more than Grace itself!) that thou hast borne  
My sins, and in my sins, dost bear with me;  
that of thy Grace I shall be quite forlorn.   

O! can my Soul but melt to think how oft  
thou mightst have slain me, yet didst use thy knife  
To prune, and make me grow in Grace aloft,  
and ●lu'st my Foes therewith that sought my life?   

How many thousand Souls now burn in Hell,  
that have (perhaps) sinned less than sinful I?  
Who held thy Hands when I did so rebel,  
that I should live when Souls less sinful dye?   

My sins cry to thee, and thou stoppest thine Ears  
lest thou shouldst hear them; & the more they cry,  
The more thy deafness to them still appears,  
as if thou didst their clamorous suit deny.   

I do but sin, and thou dost me but save;  
if I fly fast from thee, thou followest faster:  
Though I be tired with Sin, thy Mercies have  
no mean to tyre; but means my Sins to master.   

The more I sin, the more thou humblest me;  
so, mak'st me know myself, by knowing Sin:  
Nay more, it pulls me from myself to thee;  
so, though I lose myself, yet thee I win.   

O strange disposing of the worst of Ill!  
mere Concord of main Contradiction:  
That which pulls from, doth draw together still,  
where love draws Discords to make Union.   

So then, my Faults, as if they Virtues were,  
wrought for my good, by thee that hast the skill  
To bear with men, to make them sin forbear;  
and so, through Grace, to pull good out of Ill!   

Yet didst thou whisper in my Souls right Ear,  
that I should do no ill for such good end;  
But mad'st me (sinning) Sin to hate and fear;  
(in love) for that it did thee (LOVE) offend.   

With Thorns thou dost hedge-in my narrow Way,  
that if I ere so little step awry,  
They strait do prick me, and so make me pray  
for help to thee, in whom all help doth lie.   

And as the Hunter stoppeth up each Gap,  
wherethrough the wild Boar may escape uncaught:  
So, dost thou stop my way with each mishap,  
when I would run away from thee to nought.   

Am I escaped from out thy mercy's Hands?  
thy Hand of justice pulls me in again:  
So, Mercy holds me, by which justice stands  
to help to hold me safe by ease and pain.   

Have I a Will, by Death, to damn my Soul,  
(by desperate Death to damn, not mine, but thine?)  
Thou dost that Will with thy good Will control,  
And mak'st my Will thy Will in spite of mine.   

Am I resolved to sin presumptuously,  
and, that of purpose to despite thee too?  
Thou mak'st the Will without the Deed to die;  
and, mak'st me damn the Deed ere it I do.   

Would I, for any indivine respect,  
sell Heaven for Earth, and God (so) for the Devil?  
Thou God dost make that Would work good effect;  
for, when it proves the Ill, it shuns the evil.   

Is my Hand stretched out, my faith to plight  
to black Perdition? twixt my hand and It  
Thou putst thy hand of justice, which doth smite  
away my hand, before that knot be knit.   

The Weapons me thou gav'st myself to save,  
I (monster) did against thy Goodness bend;  
And with thy glorious gifts I thee did brave;  
so, did I shame myself, and Thee offend.   

The Tongue thou movedst that blasphemed Thee;  
thou rul'dst the limbs that did thy Members rend:  
Thou gav'st Wit power with Thee to disagree;  
and gav'st Will force the giver to offend.   

So, that not only I ingrate have been  
for thy good gifts, but have the same employed  
As weapons of unrighteousness, in Sin,  
and so with thine own Grace have thee annoyed.   

Thou mad'st all Creatures for mine only use,  
t'allure me to thy gainful Love thereby;  
But, I abused thee, by their abuse;  
so, with thy Good deeds did thee damnify.   

So, that through whom the seeing of thy Face  
was to be ta'en, through them I could not see:  
For I, as Gods, did them (in Love) embrace  
which thou hadst given, to guide me unto Thee.   

That I might serve thee, me did all things serve;  
I did command, that me thou mightst entreat:  
They did me Good, when I did ill deserve;  
and when I made thee small, they made me great.   

Thou gav'st me Faith, and Hell the Fruits hath had;  
thou gav'st me Grace, and Sin hath used the same;  
Thou gav'st me Wit▪ which Will abused, as mad;  
thou gav'st me Sense, wherewith myself I shame.   

Thou gav'st me Health, which, sickly, I have used,  
in riot, surfeit, and in all excess:  
Thou gav'st me Strength, which I have still abused  
in waging war with thine own Mightiness.   

Thou, for my profit, plaguedst other men;  
that so, from Sin, I might be kept, with ease:  
But I (unplagued) plagued my Brethren,  
so far off was I from remorse by These.   

These Gifts I (most ungrateful) gratis had;  
which (though abused) I used when I would:  
And, being Gifts too good, made me too bad;  
For, they made me too proud, and too too bold.   

The rage of Lions, Tigers, and the like,  
Is lenified with gifts, and turned to love;  
But, with thy gifts, to grieve thee I did seek;  
Yet still thou mad'st me their increase to prove.   

Thou Man becamest to make a God of me;  
(at least a God, that Heaven and Earth do serve:)  
And I became a Devil, in Deed, to Thee;  
that wronged thee more, the more thou didst deserve.   

Highest justice, shining through thy Passions Cloud,  
could not enforce me it to love, or dread:  
Thou hadst no hole, wherein thy head to shroud;  
but, all this All's too little for my head.   

Though thou art God, Foes Fists thy face enorm;  
if any touch my Coat, I touch them home  
By word, and deed; that yet am but a Worm;  
thou strivest for lowest, I for highest Room.   

Thou wouldst be slain, to slaughter Sin in me;  
but, by thy death, I life-inspired the same:  
So, thy great Mercy made me martyr Thee;  
and, with the jews, I made thy griefs my game.   

The Medicine, so, thou gav'st to cure my Wounds,  
I venomed to make my hurt the more,  
Which both with Sin & shame my Soul confounds,  
sith Sin, by Grace, I made more sinful sore.   

If from the Law, to take a cause to sin,  
is much more damned than sin without the Law;  
What is it then, when Grace so used hath been:  
and force to fight with Grace, from grace to draw?   

The wildfire of my Passions burned me;  
my Thoughts Distractions did me quite divide;  
The Worm of Conscience raged, where thou wouldst be  
yet these I did (as one in thee) abide!   

For, mine Affections cried nought but Peace,  
when those Affections most did Peace impunge;  
And when I was in Hell, they seemed in ease,  
so much the old misled Affections young.   

And, Fury-like, towards hell I always made;  
but, thou more ways than all ways brought'st me back.  
The Trade of Virtue, I held Vices Trade;  
sith, more than Vice, she seemed to live in lack.   

How oft have I been at the gates of Hell  
and could not enter, though I went about:  
Thou didst the Devil from his charge compel;  
so, Porter waste thyself to keep me out.   

Nay, when I have been even in his jaws,  
and that his Fangs were entering in my Soul,  
Till thou didst pull me thence, thou mad'st him pause;  
so, came I, as from Heaven, as Meek, as Whole.   

O! how can I such powerful Grace requite;  
that forceth justice with Her force to join  
From wrack to save me in mine own despite,  
and made restore, who did myself purloin?   

Had I the lives of Angels and of Men,  
and, offered all to thee in sacrifice,  
And, if those lives were thrice resumed again,  
and, offered up as oft, 'twould not suffice.   

'Twould not suffice to recompense thy love;  
it were too cheap to quite t●y dear deser●;  
O then can I (wretch) so ungrateful prove,  
as not to give thee one poor wretched Heart?   

Can I, o can I be so much besides  
Grace, Faith, Sense, Mother-wit, myself and all,  
That having yet these gifts to be my guides,  
do yet but stand by these, by these to fall?   

If I be lost, it must not be in Hell,  
(though ne'er so dark) for there thou foundst me out:  
It must be somewhere, which no where can tell;  
for where that is, both Time and Place do doubt.   

It cannot be in Hell; for, thou art there;  
then Heavens thy Seat (ah! would I there were lost)  
Nay, not in Place; for, thou art every where!  
Than not in Time, which, ere It was, thou know'st!   

If then in Heaven, nor Hell, in Time, nor Place,  
where then? in myself lost, I cannot be:  
Yet, lost I am, if I do lose thy grace;  
which found me when I stole myself from thee!   

But yet, if needs I will be lost, at last,  
(for grace, at last, saves none against their will)  
No Lost-child ever was locked half so fast  
from losing; and, deserveth half so ill.   

The worst of Ill, m●●e worse with Ill made Whole,  
is too too good for one made worse than That:  
Too little he doth lose, to lose his Soul,  
that, maugre grace, still does he cares not what.   

Therefore (dear Lord) let me not enter in  
this strict revisall of my Sin and grace  
The less to make excusable my Sin,  
but, thereby more, much more, thy Love embrace.   

For these Confessions written by my Hand  
against myself, against myself will go  
To thy Tribunal; and against me stand,  
if now I do not ever Sin forego.   

Then let thy Wounds be once more opened  
(dear Christ) to wash me in thy reeking blood:  
Revive me, by thy death, that being dead  
(still dead) to Ill, I may still live to good.   

O! ivycie Bunch of Soule-refreshing grapes,  
(hard pressed in the Winepress of the Cross!)  
Make drunk my thirsty Soul, that (gasping) gapes  
for thy pure blood, to purge mine, being too gross.   

Mine Ire, Pride Lust, Presumption▪ Hate and Scorn,  
yea, all my Sins▪ which I can ne'er recite)  
I cast into thy wounds which wide are torn;  
O keep them There then, from thy Father's sight.   

As much as those confound▪ these comfort me;  
nay, more, much more, sith more thou canst forgive  
Then I can sin, although I quartered Thee,  
if when the deed is done, through grace I grieve.   

Mellefluous Sea of Comforts most divine,  
Meridian Light, whence springs true glories Day,  
With both over whelm me, till through both I shine  
in perfect glory by thy glories Ray.   

Let not my Deeds, or inofficious Sloth  
do or omit, what should not, or be done:  
For, both are cursed by thy blessed mouth,  
sith Ill to do, and good omit, is one:  
But, let this league be constant to the end;  
For they but mend to mar, that mar to mend.   

And Wisdom, at our wisdom▪ doth but scoff,  
When we do ill, that good may come thereof.    

The sighs of a Pensive Soul, groaning under the burden of sin.  

WHo art thou Lord? thou Lord whose magnitude  
admits no Name! and what, or who am I  
That dare but think of such an Altitude,  
far past the reach of highest Angels Eye?   

What am I but a Sack of sicknesses;  
Immodesty itself; Dust, Clay, Dirt, Dung:  
slime, Food for Worms, less slimy Carcases;  
with filth, much more uncleanly, mixed among!   

Mere gall of bitterness, true Heir of Hell,  
begot twixt Sin and Satan, life of Death:  
Rebellion in the abstract; Vices Shell:  
the breath of Sin, that baneth but with breath.   

God's grief, men's plague, and Angels sole annoy,  
sith sad I make them by uncessant sin:  
Let to the sorrow which doth cause their joy  
sith mine example hinders some therein.   

In Counsel, blind; in Actions, most unwise;  
In thought, unstaid; unconstant in desire:  
Then Nothing, less; yet great in mine own Eyes:  
for, past myself my self would fain aspire!   

In sum; I am the total sum of Ill;  
ill in my flesh, and evil in my spirit,  
Worse in my Wit, and worse in my Will:  
this, Lord, is he thou wouldst to thee unite!   

But what? and who art thou? thou nameless GREAT!  
sith thou art great, beyond all quantity!  
How good art thou? thou goodness most complete,  
for, thou art great beyond all quality!   

Beyond all measure, thou art (only) wise,  
thou art (alone) eternal without Time:  
In power almighty, with allseeing Eyes;  
in judgement, deep; in Counsels, most sublime.   

But what! go I about to bring thee here,  
within the compass of description:  
Thou art as far past Compass, as past Peer,  
being immense and infinite alone.   

If Men or Angels could, nay more, couldst thou  
by deed or word, thine Essence once define,  
Thou art no more thyself, in deed, or show;  
for, thou all Bounds dost in thyself confine.   

Of Thee, therefore, no search can notice give,  
further than that thou art most infinite;  
And that to know, is only to believe  
that so thou art in wisdom, grace, and might.   

The Sun, Moon, Stars, with bright beams glorified,  
in presence of thy glory, lose their Light:  
The Cherubins (like Bastard Eaglets) hide  
their Eyes, that cannot brook thy glories sight.   

The sturdy Pillars of th'aetherial Frame  
do trembling stand, when thou but knit'st thy brow;  
Yea, all the Powers therein shrink at the same,  
and (with those Props) with fear and reverence bow.   

Whose Voice doth make the Mountains melt like  
whose Check confounds the order of this All● wax,  
Whose Breath consumes thy foes, as fire doth flax;  
in few; thou art what thou thyself canst call.   

Then how dare I (vile Clod of base Contempt)  
approach the presence of such Majesty:  
That is from all impurity exempt,  
and, I a Sink of all sordiditie?   

To touch the Ark was death; and, one did die  
for touching It, being at the point to fall:  
Then woe is me, how dare I (wretch) come nigh  
they sacred self, that standest staying All?   

The Bethshamites received a mortal check,  
for prying on that Ark too curiously:  
And many thousands, for it, went to wreck;  
then dare I (Worm) cling to thy Deity?   

How can thy grace so vile a Vermin brook?  
much less embosomed such a loathed Thing;  
That leaves offence behind but with a look;  
and, like a Viper, with a touch doth sting?   

What Concord can there be twixt Contraries?  
can good and evil be incorporate?  
Then how shouldst thou self- goodness me comprise,  
that am self- evil, which thou most dost hate?   

For I have been, o Lord, I shame to say,  
what, in times past, I did not shame to do;  
Who (worse then Treas'n itself) did (ah) betray  
God unto Man, and Man to Satan too.   

There was a Time, I was that Frantic Fool,  
that said (at least in Heart) there is no God:  
But since thy grace my Heart did better school  
I think not so, by reason of thy Rod.   

Thy Rod recovered that my straying thought,  
reducing It into the way of Truth:  
I to myself, and thee, by force was brought;  
and made repent that madness of my youth.   

Thanks kindest Rod, I kiss thee, for thy grace,  
which, like a Potion, did with Nature strive,  
To conquer that which Nature did disgrace;  
and made me (dead in Sin) in grace to live.   

But Lord, how blest, and better had I been,  
if thy smooth Staff had stayed me in the Way;  
For, thy rough Rod doth Love, by terror, win;  
and, Love is lame, that doth by terror stay.   

But yet let terror (as loves Harbinger)  
make way to lodge thy Love within my Heart;  
Which of thy Love would fain be Harbourer,  
because thou mak'st it fain by force of smart.   

But let thy love be of my Heart embraced  
merely for Love; and kept with loving fear:  
Let not my Love with terror be disgraced,  
but let It, free from terrors Let appear.   

O let me love thee, as thou lovest me,  
thou lov'st me for myself and thy loves sake:  
Then for thyself (alone) let me love thee,  
without respect of what Love lame doth make.   

I now desire (with more than hot desire)  
to be new moult, and cast into the Mould  
Of all perfection, by Afflictions fire;  
sith, for thy Temple, That, refines the Gold.   

Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst; then make me clean:  
Draw me with Cords of Love, made fast by Fear:  
Though my sins measure pass, thou hast no mean  
in mercy; then, let mercy make me clear.   

If thou requirest contrition for my faults,  
with Sin and Sorrow, lo, I labour ●ore;  
A jarring Twin, each other that assaults  
(within the womb that breeds them) more and more.   

If Satisfaction thou of me require,  
Lo, here I offer up my Flesh to thee,  
To be consumed in Afflictions fire,  
so thou vouchsafe to save the Soul of me.   

Pour out thy Vengeance Vials all there-on;  
make, it like Vapour, to evaporate  
The Humours ill, wherewith it's over-gone,  
that Flesh from flesh, may so be separate.   

O thou whose Love inflames all good desires,  
quench thou the thirst of my desire, that flames  
To be consumed in those thrice sacred fires,  
which mend the forms of mind, & Spirits frames.   

Give me thy Love, and throw me into Hell;  
for, there thy Love will pleasure me in pain;  
Yea, pains, to bring me pleasures, will compel;  
and make me Heaven by Hell so to obtain.   

This only Boon I crave, by Grace to be  
armed with Patience, most invincible,  
In all thy fiery Trials made of me;  
that Sense make brook them as insensible.   

Which Patience still consociates constant Love;  
which can endure more than Pain can inflict:  
O then let me that Love, in mercy, prove;  
then prove me with all proofs though ne'er so strict.   

Thy will be mine, and mine be ever thine;  
give me no power to will or not to will  
But as thou wilt: and let no will be mine,  
but that which, maugre Flesh, may thine fulfil.   

Thou knowst what's best for me; then, is that best,  
which thou (what ere it be) for me shalt do:  
Then, let me lock my cares within thy Chest,  
when they, too strong, would my weak Chest undo.   

Be thou the Centre of my Souls desires;  
and, let them rest in Thee in all unrest:  
Be thou the Unction, still to feed those fires,  
till of eternal Light they be possessed.  
To which, as to the utmost of their hope,  
Bring thou them (Lord) that art their utmost scope.    

Of Life's brevity, the Flesh's frailty, the World's vanity, and the devils tyranny.  

THou Eld of Days, teach me my days to count,  
(dear Lord) mine End, learn me mine end to know;  
That of the same I may yield rust account▪  
These secrets (Lord) to me, in secret, show.  
To think of long life, is, in death, to live;  
To think of Death ', s long life, which Death doth give.   

My Time is in thy hands; than It display,  
That I may know It, so to use It well:  
A thousand years, with thee, is scarce a day;  
But they are more with me then Time can tell:  
In twice five Ages, Time can tell no more,  
Then, no Man's time thrice trebled, tells such store.   

Are not my Days few? and mine end at hand,  
Whose life is like the shadow of a Dream?  
What Substance is't, by which such shadows stand?  
Is't aught but Nothing, in the great'st extreme?  
If less than Nothing then, be all my Days,  
Can I love Life, which Truth doth so dispraise?   

A Ship, a Shaft, a Shuttle were too slow  
(Or whatsoever else doth swiftly glide)  
The flight of Time in this short life to show;  
But, It, as less than Nothing, must abide:  
Then ah! shall less than Nothing make me lose,  
Thee, Thing of Things, that dost each Thing enclose?   

And, what a less than Nothing is this Life?  
It's worse than Nought, that's lesser than That L●sse:  
So fraught with Mischief, Sorrow, Sin and Strife,  
That It (like Hell) is Hold of Heaviness:  
For who so hath most ease and rest therein,  
Are most diseased (most oft) with restless sin..   

No foot of Ground, Earth's dismal face contains,  
That is not over-laid with treble Snares;  
A Flies foot rests not on It without Pains;  
Besides Death's danger, and a World of cares:  
I speak, but speak with grief, what I have found  
On Earth; then, Earth of grief is but the Ground.   

For scarce is one Temptation overpast,  
But in the Neck thereof another comes;  
Like Circles, that Stones cause in Waters cast,  
Which chase each other, till the last o'er-comes:  
So and none otherwise Temptations strive,  
Which, by the spoil of others, best shall thrive.   

Nay, so each other to succeed were ease,  
(More than temptation useth to admit)  
But, while the first endures (like swelling Seas,)  
Another riseth worse, much worse, than It:  
Then in temptations Seas, with Waves thus driven,  
How hard is it t'attain the Haven of Heaven!   

The treble Snares (forementioned,) three fell Foes  
Do lay for me, to catch me if they can;  
The Flesh, the Devil, and the World are Those,  
Which three still watch to catch me careless Man:  
The least of which hath skill exceeding great;  
Then how should I (poor Wren) their drifts defeat?   

On this side fights my Flesh; the World on that;  
The Devil at my Back; and, all as One  
Do me assail; nay, do they care not what,  
So I (thereby) may quite be overthrown:  
And thus, like cunning Foes, they compass me,  
That I may have no way, away to flee.   

I cannot from my Body flee; because  
It is my Clog, and I am tie thereto:  
Nor must I It undo, for any cause,  
For, so undone, I do my soul undo:  
If I do feed the same, my foe I fat,  
That will assault me much the more for that.   

Then must I needs my Body bear about,  
Though fain I would forsake It, knew I how;  
And yet the same is always running out;  
Yet draws me with't, as Colts do draw the Blow:  
It tires my Spirit, that toils to keep it in,  
From being tired in running out to sin.   

Besides, th'injurious World beleaguers me  
This, that, and every way, with main and might;  
And through the loop-holes of my Senses, He  
With my weak Soul, continually doth fight:  
Which still, though faintly, fights to keep out death,  
And oft (poor Soul) quite she is out of breath.   

If at those Loops the World repulse doth take,  
He sets his Slaves to watch me, in my way;  
That they may, through my slippings, me overtake;  
And so to wound my Fame, with sharp Dispraise:  
Or, draw me else before Authority,  
Where I may know what 'tis to slip awry.   

But, that's a favour done, against his will:  
Herein his malice mends me; makes me watch  
My sinful self from running into ill;  
Lest that these Fiends should me in evil catch:  
For (Lord) thou knowst, they watch not for my good;  
But how, by mischief, they may suck my blood.   

If thee I serve, they call me Hypocrite;  
If I do not, than Atheist am I named:  
If I give Alms, 'tis that beg praise I might;  
So, do I good or evil, I am blamed:  
Then this thrice wayward World, by his good will,  
Will have me to be Nothing; good, nor ill.   

The Devil is a Spirit which is unseen,  
Then how should I avoid his mortal Blows?  
Whose weapons are as long, as strong and keen;  
And sendeth flaming Shafts from fiery Bows:  
The least of which to death my Soul will wound,  
If thou confound them not ere they confound.   

So then these three strong armed Enemies,  
Me ceaselessely assail to make me fall:  
The Flesh suggesteth to me Luxuries;  
The World objecteth Sweets; the Devil, Gall:  
And all, as most entire, conspire in this,  
To make me ill to live, to die amiss.   

The Flesh importunes me with dainty food;  
With Sleep, Sloth, Lust, and carnal Liberty:  
The World doth move me to ambitious mood:  
The Devil to Malice, Ire, and Treachery:  
Thus all in several sort, in one agree  
To pair my Crown, if not to conquer me.   

Behold (o Lord) with whom I live, perforce;  
I dwell with Scorpions, Vipers, and the like:  
Which kill, by Nature, without all remorse;  
And with their stings, they good and bad do strike:  
O Lord how long, how long (dear Lord) shall I  
Endure this Death, the Life of misery?   

Atheists and Infidels do neighbour me,  
Beside these foes; and with them still do join,  
To work my wrack; for, they still boring be  
Betwixt thy Spirit and mine, them to unjoine:  
Among the Tents of Kedars, thus, I dwell,  
Whose Inmates are as Serpent-wise, as fell.   

Example, more than Precept, makes us good;  
And, is there none that doth good? no, not one,  
Then ah! what can live with this Viper's Brood  
That is not brought to nought, no not a Stone?  
Then I being Flesh, how can I hurt avoid  
By them, by whom, e'en Stones are oft annoyed?   

In these sore Conflicts if I should retire  
Into myself, I find me fraught within,  
With fleshly,- worldly,- diuellish-damned desire,  
The threefold Bastard of these Foes, and sin.  
Who will with them conspire to conquer me,  
Then in myself, I least secure shall be.   

My Heart's more movable than Motion is;  
Unconstant, fugitive, vain, light, lewd, blind;  
wandering each way, and yet the way doth misle;  
Yet still holds on that Course, by course of kind:  
Agent and Patient 'tis, in Sin and Shame,  
That both effects and suffers for the same.   

And, as a Mill doth grind what it receives,  
Else grinds itself, if nought be thrown thereon;  
So, doth the Heart grind what the same conceives;  
Else grinds itself, till it to nought be gone:  
But it (by Nature) still conceiveth Sin,  
Then Sin (by Nature) still is ground therein.   

But, if thy Grace (Lord) thou therein infuse,  
It grinds the same, like flower of finest Wheat,  
To make sweet- Bread, unleavened, to use  
When as the Soul doth grind thee as her meat:  
And as the heart doth grind, the Soul to feed  
With good, or bad; so, our lives haps succeed.   

Sometimes it grinds but griefs, infused by Sin;  
And oft but Dusty thoughts, and Earthy cares:  
Thou, when such Griefs it grinds, pourest joy therein:  
And me, for thee by griefs▪ that joy prepares:  
Then may I say, when so the Mill doth run:  
I had been, if I had not been undone.   

But, for the most part; it is ever cloyed  
(Like an hard Millstone) with the softest things:  
As fleshly lusts, and vain joys over-ioyde;  
And with that harts-case which most torment brings  
So, that my Heart, to them, my Heart betrays,  
And all, to spoil it, seek by all assays.   

It is the Shop where base Affections frame  
The Emb●ion of Sin; which, growing great,  
Breaks out to Action, to the Actor's shame;  
Unless thy Deed (o Lord) the Deed defeat:  
Then in the heart, the Seat of Peace and Life,  
I find the certainest Death, the surest strife▪   

Lord help, Lord help me to subdue my Heart,  
Before these Foes my Heart do quite overthrow:  
O let it labour with a World of smart,  
Itself to conquer, and itself to know:  
They that so fight, great Hearts, and Glory have;  
Then let me fight, my Fame and Heart to save.   

To save my Heart, which, though it little be;  
Yet nought but thine own Greatness can suffice:  
For 'tis a Kingdom only made for thee;  
Though Traitors to thee, do it oft surprise;  
But chase from thence the traitors to thy Crown,  
That thou mayst still, in peace, possess thine own.   

O take away these Scandals of thy reign,  
thieves of thy Glory (most vainglorious thieves)  
For, Tyrant PRIDE would be my Sovereign;  
Which (for rejecting her) me ever grieves:  
For, Pride (dear Lord) is of that spiteful vain,  
That where she most seeks love, she most doth pain.   

Then Lust, Ire, Envy, Malice, Scorn, and Hate,  
Strive, in me, for me; but, as much as I  
Am holp by thee, do strive to keep my State  
From usurpation of their Tyranny:  
Which freely I surrender up to thee,  
That freely, twice, did render me, to me.   

For, I no King recognize but my God  
Worthy to sit as Sovereign in my Heart:  
Before all Sceptres I adore thy Rod;  
Which drives to endless pleasure, though it smart.  
O then away from me, ye cursed Crew,  
Ye have no part in me, His only due.   

And come (dear Lord) destroy them in their strength,  
Confound their Counsels, all their Drifts defeat;  
That I, through thee, may win myself at length  
From out their Hands, that make me as their Meat:  
And let me (so won) lose myself in thee:  
Where, to be lost, is still most safe to be.   

Give me (o Lord) that empire o'er my Heart  
That It thy Beck and mine may still obey:  
For, that, and more is due to thy desert;  
Sith that due is much more than I can pay:  
For, I can pay no more than what is mine,  
And I have nought but sin, but what is thine!   

Then as I am obliged thee to obey;  
So, Equity and Profit do persuade  
That I should walk no Way, but in thy Way;  
For, that's the Way by which good Men are made:  
Then till I go away for good and all,  
Let me run in this Way, and never fall.   

For that's to run that so we may obtain,  
Else get we pain eternal for our pain.  
If many run, and labour lose,  
How easy is't to be of those?    

The Soul desireth to know God.  

FRom out the Soul of my most happy Soul,  
I praise thee, migthy Maker of this All,  
For that when I was nothing (fair nor foul)  
thou mad'st me of thy Creatures Capital!   

For, to thine Image didst thou fashion me,  
giving my Soul Intelligence, and Will;  
That so, at least, she might b'in love with thee,  
sith all things love their like, by Nature, still.   

Thou mightst have made me some detested Worm;  
some Toad or Viper, or some Crocodile:  
Or else some Monster, both in mood and form;  
or aught what is most harmful and most vile.   

And, that thou didst not, it was of thy grace;  
for, what could I deserve when I was not?  
No, not a Being in the basest place,  
much less Earth's Lordship, which is now my Lot!   

And, lest a Creature, so resembling thee,  
should instantly to nothing fall again,  
Thou me endu'dst with immortality;  
that I might, in all Worlds, still live and reign.   

Yet seemed that nothing to thy boundless Love,  
unless, of nothing, thou hadst made my Soul  
But little less, if not some way abonve  
the Angels; for, they serve, and I control.   

Oxen and Sheep with Grass are satisfied;  
Fish, Fowle, and Worms with Food of base kind:  
But my Souls Meat is more than Deified;  
for nothing but her God contents her Mind!   

For, She is made of that Capacity  
(because like thee She is directly made)  
That Heaven and Earth her cannot satisfy,  
sith She shall flourish most, when these shall fade.   

For, though she once began, yet now she is  
eternal made, and truly infinite;  
Then nought but thou that hast these properties,  
can satiate her insatiate appetite.   

Wretch that I am, this World, why do I love?  
or seek the fading glory of the same?  
Why do I riches seek and pleasures prove,  
that do the Soul unjoint, and Mind unframe?   

These Husks suffice not; and, these painted Fires  
warm but the bare imagination:  
While the So●le starves through cold, with vain desires  
bred by that powers misinformation.   

O no, her Food's much more substantial,  
(supersubstantial I should rather say)  
Because it is so passing spiritual,  
as none but purest Spirits it relish may.   

Then know my Soul, know what (by kind) thou art  
thy Maker's Type, and vive Similitude;  
Whole in the Whole, and whole in every Part;  
another God, of boundless magnitude!   

How can thy Palate then, taste any thing  
(without distaste) that is not most divine?  
Why drinkest of this Worlds Dike, and leav'st the Spring,  
that ever overflows with Angel's Wine?   

All under Heaven is too unsweet for thee;  
for, it's but Elemental; still, in strife:  
Nay, nought in Heaven, but the sweet Trinity,  
can feed thee fat, or keep thee but in life.   

That food, whose sweetness ravisheth the sense  
of sweetest souls divinest Faculties,  
Must feed thy Will, and thine Intelligence,  
else can they not to grace or glory rise.   

That Lord, whose Beauty Sun and Moon admires,  
whose Majesty the Hosts of Heaven adore:  
Whose Grace is praised by the Angel's Quires,  
He that was, is, and shall be evermore:   

God, infinite in power and Majesty,  
hath made thee but to fill thee with his Love;  
Which being infinite in quantity,  
thine All, and Parts (all whole in each) can move.   

He, only He, can thy desires fulfil,  
albeed they did exceed Immensity:  
And, being Three in One can fitly fill  
thine Understanding, Will and Memory!   

Then, o my Soul run out, this Guest to meet;  
and him into thee gladly introduce:  
Who is as sweet as great, and good as sweet;  
that used augments, and fades for want of use.   

Then, lock him in the Closet of thine Heart,  
where thou, in secret, mayst unfold thy Love:  
There clip him fast, let him not thence depart,  
till He with him, from hence, do thee remove.   

Who will be soon entreated There to stay,  
because it is the rest of his desire:  
And needs he must take thee with him away,  
if Nuptial Love do make you two entire.   

Which dignity, of my Celestial Soul,  
when well I weigh (dear Lord) I marvel not  
Though in my Mud, thy Son himself did roll,  
to seek, in my true shape, to knit this knot.   

But muse I may at mine ingratitude,  
my madness, dullness, and gross impudence;  
That do neglect they loves beatitude,  
and prostitute my Soul to foul Offence.   

That I should, carelessly, his Love neglect,  
that is the beaming beauty of thy State;  
And woe the ugly Devil, in effect,  
thy sacred Image to adulterate.   

This doth exceed all wonderments excess;  
this Prodigy, is more than monstruous;  
That any Soul should love mere ugliness,  
before mere beauty, more than glorious!   

How can I think upon thy boundless Love;  
and not pursue myself with endless Hate?  
That, for my sake, didst hells of torments prove,  
to pull me out of Hell, and damned state.   

And, when I view my Body's Edifice,  
I find so many of thy bounties there,  
As might the Heart of Hate to Love entice;  
for, in each hair-breadth of it they appear.   

Th' Arteries, Sinews, Nerves, Veins, Ligaments,  
Heart, Lungs, Lights; and, in few, the All, in All,  
Are thy Love-tokens, and kind Compliments,  
that mak'st thyself, through Lordly love, my thrall.   

Wherein if I should still Philosophise,  
I should find matter still to praise thy name;  
For this Minds Organ yields such Harmonies  
as still in silence celebrate thy Fame.   

This Wonder is the World's Epitome,  
a little World, true abstract of the Great,  
Yet greater than the Great in dignity,  
though that in quantity be more complete.   

O! how should I to grace thy Grace be glad,  
for that thou mad'st me not in deed, or sight,  
Blind, lame, deaf, epilepticke, mute, or mad;  
but sound in Soul and Mind; in Body, right.   

Yet (Lord) o yet I want, (for nothing is  
brought from Not-being to a Being blest  
Immediately) sith yet I am amiss;  
but all things, by degrees, attain their best.   

For, in the Work of Nature, Sense perceives  
that first of all the Matter she prepares;  
Then fits it to the Form which it receives;  
but forms it not perhaps in many years.   

Yet she doth not, as lacking Power, or Art,  
leave aught imperfect which she takes in hand;  
Yet, out of hand, she perfecteth no Part;  
but, that she doth in time, in Sea, and Land.   

Then thou that art her Soveragine, canst thou lack  
of her perfection in thy Works begun?  
Canst thou, Almighty, see Them go to wrack?  
or, through neglect, to leave them half undone?   

Effects unto their Causes only look,  
that they from them Perfection may receive;  
Then, of their Causes, if they be forsook,  
they make a show but only to deceive.   

Thou art my sole beginning, and mine end;  
then end that well which thou hast well begun:  
Thou art my Cause; then me, th' Effect, amend;  
that I from grace, to grace may ever run.   

Thine Eyes, allseeing, see great Wants in me;  
supply those wants (dear Lord) and let me want  
Nothing but wants that wanting are in thee,  
sith what thou want'st, to thee is discrepant.   

Let no Block be more dull to apprehend  
that thou wouldst have escape, untried, than I;  
Let my Wit for thy foolishness contend;  
and, let that Folly be my wisdoms Eye.   

Then, in th' Egyptian darkness of this life,  
I shall behold the glory of thy Son:  
And shape my course, by him, in Storms of strife:  
for all thy fools do strive to him to run.   

Then, with that Protomartire, shall I see  
(the Canopy of Heaven being opened wide)  
The beaming beauty of the Trinity;  
that by none, but such fools, can be espied.   

Let me be wise in deed, and not in show,  
sith never shades have substances begot;  
And they know nothing, as they ought to know,  
that know not they are fools that know thee not.   

The Fool hath said, in heart, No God there is:  
so saith he, sith he knows not otherwise:  
Then, Truth and Wisdom calls him Fool for this;  
because true Wisdom in this Knowledge lies.   

The Pagan-wisedome, though it knew, what not?  
that was beneath the Circuit of the Sun;  
Yet was that wisdom fond overjoyed,  
sith all was vain It knew, when all was done:   

For, under Heaven (as saith thy sacred Truth,)  
remaineth nought that is not more than vain:  
What wisdom then, from knowing it ensu'th;  
but such as Fools, by knowing Babbles, gain?  
Then let the World still make a Fool of me,  
So I may only know myself and Thee.    

A Thanksgiving for our Being.  

LEst Thankelesnesse should close thy Bounty's hand,  
(which it alone (kind Lord) hath power to do)  
And sith thou givest what thou dost command,  
if we but stretch our Goodwills hand thereto:   

Kind liberal Lord, give me an able will  
to thank thee for thy gifts; that by one gift  
I may be grateful for another still;  
which is of Willing-want the only shift.   

I thank thee then, not only for my Being,  
(being as I am the lively form of thee)  
But for that thy high Providence allseeing  
doth strive to make me ever better be!   

For, should thy hand be but a moment closed,  
I should to nought resolve, as once I was;  
For thou my time of moments hast composed,  
the last of which I cannot overpass.   

Then look how many moments I exist,  
so many blessings dost thou give to me;  
Preventing me with others ere I wist,  
that so my Being might right blessed be.   

From my Conception, to Nativity  
thou keptst me saf● (though straight kept) in the womb,  
My Mother's Bowels might have strangled me,  
but that thy Mercies hand still made me room!   

Wherein I felt (ere I could feel, or see)  
the blessings of thy tender Providence:  
And, lest I should (perhaps) abortive be,  
thou gav'st me there, full nine months' residence.   

Where, how thou fed'st me, by the Naule-string,  
I may admire, but ne'er the same express!  
And how thou didst my Parts together bring  
(confused in slime) it is no wonder less!   

The longings of my Mother's appetite,  
her food, fears, griefs, falls, and such accidents,  
Might have enforced her, ere my Frame was pight,  
eft to diffuse me in the Elements.   

For, when I was an Embryo, but a thought  
might have redrowned me in Not-beings Pit;  
But than thou thoughtst on me, and so hast wrought  
that Danger, from her Mouth, me, safe, did spit.   

How happily-unhappy had I been  
to be made Man in possibility,  
And marred, e'en as my making did begin;  
so, strait to find, and lose Humanity.   

That which we never had, we never lost:  
therefore for loss of that we cannot grieve:  
But, rare things had, to lose, doth grieve us most;  
for better still dead, then but now to live.   

Then to be borne within no Pagan Clime,  
adds no small weight to this great Benefit:  
But, come of Christians, in good place and time,  
and, am a Christian, much more maketh it.   

And am a Christian! o that so I were  
as I am named; and still desire to b●;  
That I might say I am; and so appear:  
sith but to seem good, is too bad with thee.   

For thou great GOOD, that call'st thyself I AM,  
dost love I am; not was, nor yet will be:  
Then, let me say I am (in deed, and name)  
thy Servant, that but lives to honour thee.   

For, sith I have such Being, let me be  
such as I AM, not as I am; that is,  
Such as Thou art, most perfect Piety:  
for, thou art, waist, and ever wilt-be this.   

Besides, thou hast and dost preserve me still  
from all misse-fortunes, and from so deign Death:  
Which, in this World (that dangers overfill)  
is more than Fortune can to Man bequeath.   

How many have I seen the Wars to wear!  
& might have seen hang'd, drowned, starved, burnt, & torn!  
How many poisoned! spill themselves, with fear,  
with Pox, Plagues, Pestilence how many worn!   

The thousands blind, deaf, dumb, lame, leprous;  
besides the Millions otherwise distressed  
In Mind and Body, with griefs dolorous,  
make me to see how much my State is blest.   

For, that which fell to any one of these  
might me befall, being evil as they be;  
And, that I have more soundness, joy, and ease,  
it is (to win my love) thy love to me.   

If any mortal King should for one crime,  
many condemn; and save but one or two:  
And, I, of those condemned, should be the prime,  
yet first of those two saved, should be too:   

How would my Heart be ravished with his Love?  
and how would all my Powers strive him to serve?  
Then, no less Grace thy grace doth make me prove;  
nay, more, much more, thou dost my love deserve.   

For, double thou deservest, in treble kind;  
thou savedst my Soul and body, doomed to Death;  
And from all frantic passions keep'st my Mind:  
therefore I owe thee Mind, Soul, Body, Breath.   

For, 'tis thy Grace, we be not all consumed;  
but, most of all myself, that most doth sin:  
Sith on that Grace I have, to sin, presumed;  
yet still, by grace, seekest me, from sin, to win.   

A Body thou hast given me, that doth lack,  
all that thou giv'st me to continue life:  
And, lest, through want thereof, It should to wrack,  
with me those gifts are no less rich, then rife.   

All things thou mad'st for me; and me, for Thee;  
for me Ground, Grain; Trees, Fruit; Mines, metal bear:  
air, Fowle; Seas, Fish; & Fish & Fowl, for me,  
produce most glorious Pearl, and Plumes to wear!   

For me, Seas, Ships; Ships, Sails; sails, Winds endure,  
to bring me Benefis from foreign Lands:  
For me, Floods, flow; Wells, spring; Springs, Water pure  
do yield; that I should yield to thy commands.   

Sheep, Oxen, Kine, Goats, Bucks, and other Beasts  
yield Flesh, Fleece, Fels, Milk, Oil, & Horns for me:  
For me, the Hound doth cry, the Spaniel quests,  
to teach me how to cry, with hope, to Thee.   

The Horns of Unicorns (that precious be)  
are mine, though they do wear them for my sake:  
Plants Virtue have, not for themselves, but me:  
so, things of every suit me Prime do make!   

What would I more? there's nought hath being got  
on, or in Earth, in Water, or in Air,  
That either feeds, or heals, or sport's me not:  
so that this World doth nought but me repair.   

If I the Elemental World transcend,  
to view the Heavenly Orbs; what Wonders There  
Sun, Moon, and Stars, I see, who all attend  
but for my good, for which they framed were.   

For me, alone, they influence impart  
to these inferior Bodies, serving mine;  
For me, doth Time himself in pieces part,  
that I, beyond Time, might be wholly thine.   

Nay, let me pass the ninefold Orbs of Heaven,  
and to thy sacred Mansion let me flee;  
For whom had all thine Angel's essence given,  
But for thy service, and to wait on me?   

To back me, and defend me from my Foes;  
to hold me up, when ere I did decline:  
To comfort me in Soule-afflicting Woes;  
and, to thy presence bring my Soul in fine.   

Now if the Ends, for which Things form were,  
be better than the Things (for, so they be)  
Then, better than the Angels Men appear;  
sith they (it seems) for men were made by Thee.   

And, Men, and Angels fell through only Pride;  
but, for dear Man's Redemption thou didd'st die:  
Yet, for no one of th' Angels hast thou died;  
which much augments man's hope, and dignity!   

O then what Heart can once but thought-conceive  
in what strict Terms I stand obliged to thee;  
Sigh me thou mad'st most Glory to receive  
through me; as, through the Eye, Men glory see.   

Wake, wake thyself, my Soul; why sleepest thou still?  
see who it is that hath thus done: for whom?  
Not for the Angels, which obey his Will;  
but, for thee, sinful Soul, his choicest Home!   

Cast, if thou canst, a Number numberless;  
and, count his gifts with Stars, or with Sea-sand:  
The bottom gage, of his Grace bottomless;  
Or, if thou canst not, wonder-mazed stand!   

Yet, stand thou with, and for Him, while thou art;  
that is, as long as he himself exists:  
That is, while GOD hath but an human Heart;  
which is, but while Eternity consists.   

As God is GOD, he hath no Heart at all;  
but, as true Man he is, he hath Man's Heart:  
Then, GOD, and MAN can ne'er asunder fall;  
though Men from GOD themselves too often part.   

But GOD, that hast Man's Heart (and, so, hast mine;  
sith I am Man, although a sinful one:)  
Still let thy Heart be mine, and mine be thine:  
that I may have no Heart to grieve our own.   

I greatly do desire, with great desire▪  
to praise and love thee GOD (Man's hearts repose!)  
But Praise and Love, in Mouth, and Heart of mire  
(through foulness of that filth) their grace do lose.   

But, sith all Creaetures thou hast made for me,  
(for, whatsoe'er is made, I owe the same!)  
I'll call on them, with me, to call on THEE,  
to give me grace to love and praise thy Name.   

Then, o ye all his Works, your voices rear  
(with man his masterpiece) that He would grant  
To me his Grace, to sound his praises clear:  
and to supply, in Love, my loving want.   

To make my Mouth pure, fit to hold his praise;  
and make my Heart clean, meet to lodge his love:  
That Heart and mouth may so his glory raise,  
while I his Grace, in grace or glory prove:  
That I in Grace, and Glory may be known,  
To live but for that praise and love alone.    

A Meditation gratulatory for our redemption.  

WHen I excogitate the great Good-turn  
thou hast done for me, o extremest Good!  
With heat of Zeal, my seething Marrow burns;  
and, flames of servant Love do boil my blood!   

Especially, for that when thou hadst formed  
my Soul and body, I deforming each,  
Thou, with thine own dierewrack, hast me reformed  
and, with thy precious blood becamest my Leech.   

Thou mightst, for e'er, have banished me thy sight,  
with the proud Angel, and his cursed Crew:  
For, my fault was like his; but, more unright:  
then, to the same a greater Plague was due!   

And, that thou hast not only spared my Pain;  
but, therewithal, bought endless bliss for me:  
(So that my Fall doth fall out to my gain!)  
I am in straightest bonds obliged to Thee.   

And, for thou mad'st me, me to thee I owe;  
sith thou redeemed me, much more owe I thee:  
And, would, o would, I could myself bestow  
to pay that More, that's less than due from me.   

And, so much more thou ought'st to be beloved,  
by how much greater were thy griefs, and state;  
And how much less then ought'st to be reproved,  
whose life was more than most immaculate!   

Who, What, and Wherefore, dost thou suffer, Lord?  
and, who art Thou, that sufferest for man's sake?  
O tell me; for, I will divulge thy Word  
that all things made, men marred to remark.   

First, for thyself, with what rich terms of Art  
shall I express Thee, inexpressable!  
I'll say, as thou saidst, Thou art, what Thou art;  
because, Thou knowst, Thou wert ineffable!   

Thou art a BEING more than infinite;  
and, being of thyself, proceedest of none:  
Without thee, can not being chance to light;  
for, Chance, and being light by Thee alone.   

Thy matchless power, of nothing, all things made;  
thy Goodness saves all without other aid:  
And, if thou wouldst, to nothing They should fade;  
for, in, for, and by thee, they all are stayed.   

Thou only art that art! and, nothing is  
besides thee, in comparison of thee!  
The Lamps of Heaven their light before thee miss,  
whose brightness bright'st Eyes are blind to see!   

All beauty's Foulness; Power, infirmity;  
Wisdom, Gross Folly; Goodness, worse than nought;  
Weighed with thy more than All sufficiency:  
more fair, strong, wise, and good, then can be thought.   

More than most fair, sith self- Formosity;  
and, more than powerful, sith Omnipotent!  
Much more than Wisdom, sith her Souls right eye;  
exceeding Goodness, sith her Continent!   

Yea, good thou art, both to the good and bad;  
for good and bad suck sweetness still from thee:  
With good gifts, good Souls, thou dost over-lade;  
and good'st the bad, to make them better be.   

Without distraction, thou dost all in All;  
Thou All contain'st, yet art in every place:  
And yet, art all alike in great and small,  
yet here then there much greater by thy Grace.   

Thou ever workest; yet, ever art at rest,  
resting in endless doing thy good Will:  
Thou all vphold'st; and yet, art not suppressed:  
thouart Good alone; and yet, thou sufferest ill.   

Thou Cause of Causes art; yet caused art  
to punish sin; yet, didst for sinners die:  
Thou art impassable; yet suffered'st smart:  
lower than Hell; yet, more than Heaven high.   

What shall I say of thy dread Majesty?  
Thou Earth beholdest, and It doth trembling stand!  
Touch but the Mountains, and they smoke thereby,  
than Seas and Winds do rest at thy command.   

The Sun (with gloomy Clouds enueloped)  
doth hide his head, when thou (his head) dost frown:  
The Moon and Stars, with Cloud-cloakes covered,  
in their confusion (shamed) do, then, lie down.   

Thou spread'st the Heavens, & marchest on the deep,  
whilst her deep Base yields dreadful harmony:  
Thou mak'st the Spheres both Time & Tune to keep,  
maugre their Discords, and variety.   

Thou call'st the Stars by name, who come at call,  
and like true Sentinols keep well their watch▪  
Hyperion, that guides the Capital,  
(to thee subordinate) doth key their Catch.   

Thou anglest for the huge Leviathan;  
and through his Nostrils, mak'st thy Hook appear:  
Which being hanged thou playest with him than,  
as with a Fish, that hangs but by an Hair.   

Hell quakes when thou dost volley forth thy voice,  
which Bandies Earth as 'twere a Racket- Bat:  
The Heavens shall melt and pass away with noise,  
when thou thy Creatures to account shalt call.   

Upon the Necks of Monarches thou dost tread;  
and pau'st the Pavement with their Diadems.  
The dreadful Powers of thy Power stand in dread;  
and Glory itself, is blinded by thy Beams.   

The Seraphins (though glitt'ring-glorious Spirits)  
in thy bright presence seem but Butterflies:  
Thou rid'st upon the Cherubins, whose sights  
thy Beauty blinds, with rates that thence arise.   

To thee the Gates of Death lie open wide,  
which, on their Hinges, play as thou dost will:  
Nay, Death himself doth quake, when thou dost chide  
as if it would his Soul, immortal, kill.   

The Heavens declare thy glory; Fire, thy brightness;  
the Air, thy subtlety; the Sea thy Dread:  
The flowers of the Field, thy Beauty's brightness:  
thus, all in All, thy praise abroad do spread.   

Such, and so great! such, and so great (quoth I)  
nay, Lord much more than such, or so, Thou art:  
For Words defective are; so, needs must lie;  
but, thou (Lord) art deficient in no part.   

And now, let me recount the wretched wrongs  
which so great Majesty hath borne for me;  
And, whiles I count, let Men and Angels Tongues  
sound endless Peals of Praises unto Thee!   

Who, being so sublime, in dignity,  
didst from the height of Majesty descend  
Into this vale of deepest misery;  
and, clothed thee with my flesh, the same to mend.   

Wherein thou suffer'dst, for my sinful sake,  
Hunger and Thirst, in famishing excess:  
With Plagues and Persecutions; which did make  
to seem accursed thy true blessedness.   

The Passions of the Air, thou didst abide,  
as Prologue to thy PASSIONS Tragedy;  
For, Heat, and cold thy Body damnifide,  
(as needs they must) that hadst nowhere to lie.   

Whose Poverty was such, that Birds and Beasts  
were much more rich, that Nests, & Holes enjoyed  
But thou (dear Lord) hadst neither Holes nor nests,  
nor ought beside, wherein thy Head to hide.   

Born in a Stable; Cradeled in a Cratch;  
begging the breath of beasts to keep thee warm;  
Wrapped in Rags, that coarsest Clouts did patch;  
which did thy tender flesh less warm than harm.   

O sight of force to wonder-rap all Eyes!  
Ye Angels all admire this Novelty▪  
For lo, your Lord, in base Rags wrapped lies,  
to show the riches of Humility!   

And, eight days after, took'st a Sinners Mark,  
that cam'st, indeed, to abrogate the same:  
Soon after, wast constrained to use the Dark  
to hide thy Flight, that fled'st to hide thy Fame.   

Therefore thou soughtest the silence of the Night  
to be the Triton of thy Lowliness:  
Yet, now the World began thy Fame to spite,  
and in the rise did seek It to suppress.   

Herod, thy Hunter, like a Bloodhound fell,  
did hunt for Thee, that He on Thee might pray:  
For, what thou wert, he, by and by, did smell;  
and, hunted after Thee a likely way.   

But, to a Nation, most Idolatrous,  
thou wast constrained, from his pursuit, to fly:  
So, innocency Life preserved thus:  
for which, dear Innocents' were forced to die.   

Then, innocency, innocency slew:  
how then could It therein be innocent?  
For, both are innocent; yet both is true:  
the first in deed; the other, in event.   

They lost their blood for Him; He, his for Them:  
so, both did bleed; and for each other bled:  
And, both, as Innocents', their bloods did stream;  
He, as their Head; They, Members of that Head.   

O! had I been so blest, ere Sin I knew,  
t'have died for thee, among those Innocents':  
Or, that I could my sins, to death, pursue;  
or, make them live like banished malcontents.   

Then would I die for thee, an Innocent,  
if cursed Herodian hands would bless me so:  
O let me try this dear Experiment,  
(although it cost my heart-blood) er● I go.   

For when, before my Minds Eye, thou dost come  
in all thy Passions, my desire doth melt  
My very Marrow, to taste Martyrdom;  
and Sense feels pain till it such pains hath felt!   

It may be, that I do but, now, desire  
to do that; then, I may desire to fly;  
For, he that was thy bodies hardiest Squire  
so thought, and said; but did It, then, deny!   

Flesh, is a Traitor, worse than he that sold thee;  
it will, for Meede, or Dread, the Soul betray:  
Nor, in fire, is it willing to behold thee;  
in fiery trials then, it shrinckes away.   

Therefore, when it a Champion, of such might,  
betrayed to fear, I dare not say, I will;  
(No, that's Presumption) but I wish I might:  
for, willing well, without thee, we do ill.   

Then, be with me, strong Power, and I will say  
I will; and will perform, that will, in Deed:  
For, where thou art, by Power, it's but a play  
in greatest torments (then) to burn, or bleed.   

Now, as thy Body grew, so grew thy griefs;  
for, who (dear Lord) can possibly express  
Thy Persecutions, void of all relief,  
save Praying, Fasting, Watching, Weariness!   

They spoke against thee, who sat in the Gate;  
and common Drunkards ballads made of thee:  
That thou mightst say (in worse than David's state)  
being poor, I labour from mine Infancy.   

These were the griefs (dear Love) thy life did brook,  
but, in thy Death what Sense ere understood  
What pains thou feltst; when (like a rising brook)  
thy body, more and more, overflowed with blood   

Freedom, made Captive; Mercy, Misery;  
Grace, quite disgraced; beauty, vilifide;  
Innocence, strooken; justice, doomed to die;  
Glory, quite shamed; and, Life, crucified!   

O Heavens! what can amaze, with Wonderment,  
the Sense of Man more than this? what shall I  
Call this so strange unheard of loves extent,  
that overfils all Names Capacity!   

In few: now Grace, alone, seems Sin, alone;  
Life, dies; State's, whipped; and, Power bound to a Post  
The Glory of the Father spit upon!  
and, in a word, God, seemeth to be lost!   

In this Deep, further, may my Soul not wade,  
my strength is spent; for, my heart bleeds in me:  
O glorious Grace! O Majesty unmade!  
is this for me, O boundless Charity!   

If I, for my Redemption, am so tie  
to love, and honour thee; What shall I be  
For that thou didst so many Deaths abide,  
(when one would serve) to make me more than free?   

With what love shall I quite this, more then, Love?  
with what life shall I imitate thy life?  
With what tears shall I my repose reprove?  
and, with what Peace shall I conclude my strife?   

I owe thee more for my redeeming (Lord)  
(sith in the same thou Death of deaths didst prove)  
Then for my Making; (which was with a Word!)  
for, more, much more, thy Passion showed thy love!   

For, if for Cherubins, or Seraphins  
thou hadst thus died, 't'had been less marvelous:  
But, thou hast died for me (a Sink of sins!)  
which, of all Wonders, is most wondrous!   

What are we, Lord? or what our Father's House,  
(we Sons of wretched Men) that God's dear Senne  
Doth in such love and mercy visit us,  
as, through Death, to re-make us quite undone,   

If in the balance of thy Sanctuary  
thou weigh our body, 'twill be found more light  
Than Vanity; more grave than Misery▪  
as if It did consist in Nature's spite!   

And, if our Conversation thou respect,  
what is it but a Chaos of Offence!  
The Goodness of whose All, is all Defect!  
whose very Sou●'s but Hell of Conscience!   

Dost thou, o God, then for such Devils die,  
(the Sons of Satan most opposed to thee!)  
For the subverters of all Honesty!  
for breakers of good Laws that blessed be?   

For thy Contemners, for thy Glories Clouds!  
for thy Depravers, for the worst of Ills!  
For mere cursed Thwarts, of all Beatitudes!  
for thy Tormentors that thy Soul would kill!   

Whose Hearts, no gifts, can once allure to love,  
much less, with Menaces, are terrified!  
Nor moved with heavy Plagues, that Rocks would move;  
nor yet, with sweetest Indulgence, mollifide!   

For Fiends, who not sufficed with their own vice,  
the Earth do compass; so, to compass more!  
And, not contented others to entice  
dive to the Devils to augment their store!   

Where, robbing those Egyptians of their wealth,  
to weet, Pride, Envy, Malice, blasphemy,)  
Away they steal (so, all they do by stealth)  
to make them Idols for their Fantasy.   

Who, when they have rak'● Hell for every Evil,  
and, got as much as Hell can hold, or yield,  
They then devise themselves (worse than the Devil)  
new kinds of sins, that Hell yet never held:   

Adding thereto obduracy of Heart;  
and, do, their Conscience, more than cauterize:  
Pleasing themselves (like Fiends) in others smart;  
and, for that end, do many means devise:   

Are these (dear Lord) the things for which thou  
the things (I say) for, (no Name is so ill  
As they deserve;) What, only must the Highest diest?  
die for vile Vipers, that their Maker kill?   

My Heart doth fail, my Spirit is extinct,  
when thus I weigh thy Mercies with my Sin:  
And wert not for thy graces mere instinct,  
I should despair (dear Lord) and die therein.   

Yet, sith I have begun to speak to thee,  
O be not angry if I yet do speak:  
Let Dust, and Ashes once so saucy be  
to ask their God what He, hereby, doth seek?   

Seekest thou the love of such mere Lumps of Hate?  
or else the service of such Vermin vile?  
Alas (great Lord) it stands not with thy State,  
sith where they come, by nature, they defile.   

If thy desire of Marriage did so burn,  
that Thou thy Creatures wouldst needs espouse,  
Why then did Seraphins not serve thy turn,  
that are more Noble, and thee better use?   

Why of a prepuce Nation took'st a Wife,  
which afterwards did Thee betray and kill?  
So, marriedst, as it were, the very Knife,  
that cut thy throat; so, seemedst thyself to spill.   

What answerest (Lord) to these too high Demands?  
I would have this, because I would have this:  
This is thine Answer; and, the reason stands  
upon thy Will, which cannot will amiss.   

Then be it (Lord) according to thy Will;  
for, so it mu●● be, be it how so ere:  
By life, or death then, let me It fulfil;  
that dost by both, thou, so, to me endear.   

For, since Man's fall, none pass to Paradise  
but by the dreadful burning Cherubins;  
To Canaan none, but by where Marah lies;  
sith there th'inheritance of joy begins.   

And none unto the happy City goes,  
that goes not by the Babel-rivers side:  
And, none jerusalem or sees, or knows,  
that through the vale of Tears nor go▪ horrid.   

The way to Heaven, is by the Gates of Hell;  
and Wormwood-wine, though bitter, wholesome is:  
Thy Cross (o Christ) doth Heavens strong 〈◊〉 compel  
to open wide; for, 'tis the Key of bliss!  
And, sith for me, so well thou loudest that Cross,  
Let me, for thee, count all things else but loss.    

A Thanksgiving for our Vocation.  

WIth all the power and virtues of my Soul  
I do adore thee holy Lord of All!  
That when I had no name in thy check-rowle,  
thou wrat'st it on thy Palm, and me didst call.   

I dwelled, sometimes, in black Oblivions Land,  
where, in the shade of Death, I sadly sat;  
But, thou (kind Lord) didst reach me, then, thy hand,  
which, from thence, drew me to a glorious state.   

When as I wandered, in the crooked ways,  
that, too directly, led to endless pain,  
Thou didst thy forces, then, against me raise,  
to put me in thy way, perforce again.   

When thou hadst plunged me in the Font of Grace,  
so cleansed the filth I was conceived in,  
Though there I vowed to keep me in that case,  
I broke my vow and me re-suncke in sin.   

So that sweet Temple which thou sanctifi'dst  
in me, for thee, I, cursedly, did bless:  
Raising therein, that which thou least abid'st,  
namely, the Idol of Voluptuousness.   

Then, lived I as an Outlaw; when, it seemed  
by Law, or Fiend, or Foe might me surprise:  
But, ay, of thee yet, then, was so esteemed,  
that thou, by Law, didst quit me, in this wise:   

The Law required Death, or Obedience;  
then, thou, for me, didst more then Law required:  
Which didst for sin, yet livedst in innocence:  
so thou, thereby, didst more then It desired!   

Yet, ere I once did think upon thy Grace  
I lived as lose, as if I had been bound  
To nothing but to Persons, Time and Place  
that sought my Soul and body to confound.   

So, past my Days that rather looked like Night;  
nay, rather like the Dark that may be felt;  
Wherein myself ne'er came within my sight,  
although I might mine unsweet life have smelled.   

Then, like blind Baiard, being bold as blind,  
I ran, as Fancy led me, every where,  
To do the Deeds of darkness, in their kind,  
and, with me, others blinded so, did bear.   

Then, what was it the Devil could devise  
to clog a Soul with Sin, exceeding Sin,  
But I to do it was as quick, as wise?  
the rather, sith my Soul did joy therein.   

Then, carnal beauty was the only Sun  
that warmed me at the heart; and lent me light:  
A Light, and Heat by which were quite undone  
mine Eyes, & Heart; nay, Body, Soul, & sprite.   

For, all confounded were, as they had been  
no more themselves, but beauty's shadows vain;  
Attending her in whatsoever Sin,  
as Toys, that had been stitched to her Train.   

Then, were my Feet as swift as swiftest Roes  
Man's blood to shed; and, so thy Form deface:  
My friends to wrong, and treble wrong my foes;  
to shun the good, and bad men to embrace.   

Then, those things only, pleased best my taste,  
that were distastive to thy sacred Sense:  
And, that time (only) I esteemed waste,  
that to thy Service had most reference.   

Thy Name, to my uncircumcised Ear,  
was harsh, and filled the same with all offence:  
Which I did deadly hate, through servile fear;  
but, served thy Foes with treble diligence.   

The World, the Flesh, and thy Competitor  
(that for my Soul with Thee do aye contend)  
Made me their Slave, and seruil'dst Servitor;  
so, gave my Mind, thy Kingdom, to the Fiend.   

Thy Word to me seeemed most ridiculous,  
as full of Cracks, as Contradiction:  
And, no less witless, then most barbarous;  
so, made I it a Ground to play upon.   

The fairest Church (then) seemed the foulest jail;  
a Preacher, like an Headsman, killed me quite:  
Words, least divine, with me did most prevail;  
and Peace of Conscience still in me did fight.   

In brief, I was, for which myself I hate,  
such, as on whom VICE showed what she could do  
When she did light but on a low estate:  
for, what Deeds she devised, my Hand was to.   

In this time of my young, yet doting, Age,  
thou didst expect me (Lord) and lentst me breath:  
Yea, didst attend me, like that Prince's Page,  
that always put his Lord in mind of Death.   

O altitude of Grace surmounting Grace!  
o magnitude of Mercy most extreme!  
How many settings-out, in such a Race,  
have been o'er-taken with thy Fury's Stream?   

Yet, I, most blessed-cursed-blessed I  
have (by the Mercy, more than most divine)  
Been suffered to be tired with vanity,  
and, yet preserved, till brought to Grace in fine.   

Had justice hands, which, then, still urged were,  
drawn me before her High Tribunal Throne,  
And, by a Quest of Angels, tried me there,  
I had been cast, and more than overthrown.   

But, blessed be thine unconquered Patience,  
that me forbore, till I to sin forbore:  
And, blessed be thy Mercies prepotence,  
by which, I warded was, and bid beware.   

Forcing into my Soul the fear of Hell,  
the sight of Sin, Life's vain and short expense,  
With thy laws strictness; all which still impel  
my Heart, though Steel, to melt in penitence!   

Yea, when my feet were fast in Follies Stocks,  
thou didst by Grace (past Grace) extort from me  
Whole Floods of Tears, from two most flinty Rocks,  
(my Heart, and Eyes) for, so, offending thee.   

And, when I fled from thee, as if it had  
been matter of small moment Thee to flee,  
Thou follow'dst me (I being worse than mad)  
to keep me from the Furies following me.   

Thus, long we strove, and, striving long, at length  
thou didst prevail, and tamed my Coltish Will;  
Yet 'twas by holy Fraud, and mighty Strength,  
which clawed me while they did restrain me still.   

For, no less was thy Mercies skill herein,  
than thy Powers force: for, sinful Souls to cure:  
Shows skilful Grace: and, Men that most do sin  
to justify, bewrays almighty Power.   

And, o how many Graces giv'st thou me  
with this mere guilt of my Vocation!  
Firm Faith, sure Hope, and perfect Charity,  
with all the Virtues that attend thereon.   

And though I cannot be assured Lord,  
to serve thee to the end, and meek withal:  
Yet, do my Faith, and Hope rest on thy Word;  
which sure doth stand, though oft (unsure) I fall.   

Thy Spirit likewise, doth witness to my Spirit,  
that thou dost love me more than tenderly:  
Sith in thy Love, thou mak'st my Love delight;  
which love erst loathed thy Love mortally.   

Blessed be thou, therefore, great Lord of Grace,  
for giving me thy dear adopting Spirit  
To nurse, and teach, and rule me in my Race,  
and, thee and me, unjoinde, to reunite.   

And, blessed be that ever-blessed DAY,  
wherein that Guest did make my Soul his Inn:  
And be that Hour, and Moment blessed aye,  
wherein my Will gave way to let him in.   

That Day was the true Sabbath of my rest;  
that Day I left th' Egyptian servitude:  
That was my second Birthday, truly blest,  
who, then, was borne to all Beatitude.   

It was mine Easter-day, wherein I rose  
from Death of Sin, unto the Life of Grace!  
It was the Day my Heavenly Husband chose  
to marry me; and, Coort me face, to face.   

Let job and jeremy ban their birthday,  
this will I bless with Heart Mind, Mouth, & Pen;  
Sith, then, the Angels, in their best array,  
saluted me, as their Co-cittizen.   

Wherein God called me Son, and Christ dear Spouse;  
the holy-ghost his Temple; and when all  
The Holy TRINITY did trim the House  
of my poor Soul, that teady was to fall.   

Dear Lord! with what dear Words, or dearer Deeds  
no, dearest Words and Deeds are all too weak  
To match thy Mercies; but my Soul must needs  
quite break, if not into thy Praises break.   

I'll sing to thee as David once did sing,  
O Lord, how glorious are thy Works of Grace!  
And as the Angels Peals of Praises ring,  
so, will I praise thee though my voice be base.   

The work of my Creation showed great Love;  
and that of my Redemption, more expressed:  
Yet that of my Vocation most did move;  
but, that, that justifide me past the rest!   

The gift of Glory (still to Saints assigned)  
is great, so great, that none may greater be;  
Yet to be justified, is, in his kind,  
as great a gift, and no less laudeth thee.   

To make Men just that are in sinful case,  
is more than to make just Men glorious:  
Sith greater odds there is twixt sin and Grace,  
then is twixt Grace, and Glory; God and Vs.   

My Making and Redemption had but made  
m'excuse the less, and my Damnation more;  
Except my Soul thou hadst made justly glad,  
in justifying me that sinned sore!   

Whiles, therefore, on these things I meditate,  
my Soul entranced lies; as if she were  
No more my Senses; or my body's Mate,  
but, were transformed to Admiration here.   

What shall I render Lord? o how shall I  
remunerate, (o that can ne'er be done:)  
Or how shall I but praise thee worthily?  
but, such praise doth my power no less outrun.   

O that the Organs of my Soul were such,  
as, with thy praise, they Heaven and Earth might fill;  
I would therein rejoice much more then much,  
but, Lord, accept the freedom of my Will.   

For, could it make thee more than what thou art,  
(though more cannot be wished, much less conceived)  
I would perform a right Well-willers part,  
and make thee what it could, for Grace received:  
Then, let my Will be aided by thy Might,  
That Will, in Deed, may praise thy Name aright.    

Of God's unutterable Being, with desire of the Soul to be swallowed up with the love of his Majesty.  

O Past-beginning, and immortal Spirit;  
eternal, and incomprehensible:  
Incircumscribed in Majesty and Might;  
seen all in All, yet most insensible:   

Immutable, impassable, most just;  
inscrutable; in mercy, most complete:  
From whom they came, and unto whom they must  
that do believe thou art as good, as great:   

Who by thy ne'er-too-much applauded Word  
hast framed whatsoe'er created is;  
One blessed TRINITY, in true accord  
of perfect Unity, and boundless bliss!   

If that great patriarch, Father of the Just,  
(who albeit thou deign'dst to call thy Friend)  
Yet in respect He Ashes was, and Dust,  
did fear to speak to Thee, that Ear did lend:   

Nay, if the highest Orders of those Sprights,  
that, in thy presence, burn, through love of thee,  
Dare not, upon thine Essence, fix their sights,  
lest they, through glory, should confounded be:   

If these so pure, so dear, so holy Ones,  
so fearful are to speak, or look on thee,  
Who albeit they sit themselves on Thrones,  
yet, in thy sight, through love, so awful be:   

How shall a Shorelesse Sea of Misery,  
a Sink of Sin, a Sack of filthiest dung,  
(All which, ah woe therefore, dear Lord, am I!)  
once dare, to thee, to stir or Eye, or Tongue?   

But, sith (sweet Lord) I can no way obtain  
that awful reverence, which is due to thee,  
Unless mine Eyes still fixed on thee remain,  
and made amazed with thy Majesty:   

Vouchsafe me leave (dread God) vouchsafe me leave  
to lift mine Eyes unto thy Throne of Grace;  
O let thy brightness, mine Eyes, splendour give;  
and blind them not that long to see thy Face.   

I see (dread Lord) thou, only, thou art He  
that dost transcend our understandings reach;  
And yet, by understanding, well I see  
they see thee best, to whom thy beams do stretch.   

Then, o most bright, fair, wise, kind, liberal;  
most stable, simple, subtle, gracious;  
Secret, yet known; unscene, yet seeing All:  
unmoved, yet moving; in rest, making us:   

Whom Latitudes dilate, nor Bounds restrain;  
Variety doth change, nor Passions move:  
Rest makes not idle, nor Work puts to pain,  
who art not hurt by Hate, nor holp by love.   

From whom, Oblivion, nothing can detract;  
to whom, Remembrance, can as little add:  
Who art Dilated most, yet most Compact:  
not grieved in Sorrow, nor in Solace glad:   

To whom there's nothing past, much less to come;  
sith Time and Place still present be with thee:  
Of all this All thou art the total Sum;  
beyond which nothing is, much less can be!   

For, thouart in all things, yet art not included;  
but yet, in all things, art thou, by sufficing:  
Thou art without all, yet art not excluded;  
but, without all things, thou art, by comprising.   

thouart under All; yet subject unto none;  
but under All, that All might rest on thee:  
And far above All, yet not proud thereon;  
but, All, above; that All might governed be.   

Perfect in All, in none deficient;  
Great without bounds, & Good without compare:  
Present in each Place, yet in no Place penned;  
yet, whole in All, and parts, in All that are.   

In Power, and Wisdom, most-most infinite!  
in Counsel, wonderful; in judgement, just;  
Secret, in thoughts; in word, and Promise, right:  
glorious in Deeds, which glorify our Dust!   

Past all extent, thy Love doth far extend;  
whose mercy's more, then most indefinite:  
Thy Patience more, than Power can comprehend:  
because it is no less than is thy Might!   

What shall I say, great-good, good-great-great Lord!  
I fear, in these my Words, I do offend:  
To seem to circumscribe thee in a Word;  
that art without all measure, mean, or end!   

Thou art, (o sacred Spirits Angelical,  
(that have fruition of Him face to face)  
Lend me a Name by which I Him may call;  
and may express some measure of his Grace!   

Thou art too great, for GREATNESS, ne'er so GREAT!  
and far too good, for GOODNESS, e'er so GOOD!  
Who (were it possible) art more complete  
in GOODNESS, than thine own Trin-union-hood▪   

Yet thou (thou nameless Good! who, though thus great)  
dost bid us seek thee, for, who seeketh finds:  
Who, though not to be seen upon thy Seat,  
yet sittest thou, seen, in Eyes of humble Minds.   

Thou, thou art He, whom, to forsake, is death;  
and, for whom life to leave, is life alone:  
In whom, to breath, is to breath blessed Breath;  
and, for whom to contend, is Union.   

No man fosakes thee, but the forlorn Fool:  
and, no one seeks thee, but whom thou dost seek:  
Nor none can find thee, but whom thou dost school;  
&, thou school'st none, but whom thy Lessons like.   

What should I say of thee? or how shall I  
thy Goodness praise? how shall I celebrate  
The glory of thy, back- parts, Majesty,  
though ne'er so much thou it extenuate?   

I'll say as those, whom thou taugh'st what to say,  
thou measurest the Waters with thine Hand;  
Upon thy Palm thou dost the Heavens weigh:  
and, on thy Finger all the Earth doth stand!   

Thou art that Ancient, ancienter than Days,  
whose Throne is like a bright ay-burning Flame;  
The Wheels whereof, like Fire that Sparks doth raise;  
upon whose Thigh is writ a glorious Name:   

Thy Body, like a beaming chrysolite;  
thy Face, like Lightning; thine Eyes, Lamps of Fire!  
Thine Arms, & Feet, like Brass, all burnished bright;  
thy Voice like Thunder, but It soundeth high.   

A fiery Stream, still floweth from thy Throne;  
a thousand thousand minister to thee:  
Ten thousand thousand wait on thee alone;  
and, Millions, by the Thousands, ready be!   

Who, with a Beck, nay less, but with a Thought,  
rul'st Heaven, and Earth, according to thy Will;  
Which, though most glorious both, thou mad'st of nought  
and, if thou wouldst, a thought again would spill!   

Help, Lord, for I am in a groundless DEEP,  
or endless Maze, that hath no coming out!  
My Wits from drowning, and distraction keep;  
and, let me go no more, this Gulf, about.   

For; he that goes about to tell, with Words,  
what one thou art, doth e'en as if he would  
Quite drown the Sea, within the shallow'st Fords;  
nay, more, sith thou art much more manifold.   

Who ere assisted thee? or thee advised?  
who brought thee up in Lore? or gave thee Wit?  
And who thy Power, at any time surprised?  
or, what Foe was not dashed to Dust by It?   

With whom the Sea seems scarce a Waterdrop;  
the Islands, and main Lands, a little Dust:  
The highest Heaven is but thy Footstools Top;  
and, but into a Prick, thou Earth dost thrust!   

The Woods of Libanus cannot suffice  
to make Religious Altars fume to Thee:  
Nor all the Beasts can serve for Sacrifice  
that on a thousand thousand Mountains be!   

All Nations, nay, all Creatures whatsoe'er  
(be they Celestial, or Terrestrial)  
Stand in thy sight, as if they Nothing were;  
and, in respect of thee, are not at all.   

For if, in the bright presence of the Sun,  
the Stars seem not to be, although they are;  
Then, in thy sight, must All to nothing run;  
sith, in the same, the Sun cannot appear.   

Therefore, with all created Essences,  
o holy, blessed, and glorious TRINITY,  
I do adore, with all observances,  
the Sceptre of thy dread Divinity!   

Thy Being's universal; most exact!  
then, being such, what should my homage be?  
And, being Grace, and Goodness, most abstract,  
how can I, wanting both, serenize thee?   

Agnizing, then, the Wonders of thy Worth,  
(prostrate, before thy sacred Mercies seat,  
With whatsoe'er loves fear can utter forth)  
I more than celebrate thy glory great.   

With those thrice blessed Spirits, who laying down  
their Crowns of Glory, at thy sacred Feet,  
Prostrate adore thee; lo, I vail the Crown  
of all my Glory, to thee, blessed SWEET!   

My Glory, Lord? alas! what do I give?  
if I have any, it is more than vain:  
Then mayst thou not that Gift of me receive;  
sith it must needs thy sacred Glory stain.   

Return It then (dear Lord) my gift put back;  
and, I will give thee what thou gav'st to me:  
That's Love, and Fear; thou dost no Glory lack;  
yet, if thou give it me, I'll give it thee.   

But not to us (dear Lord) o not to us,  
but to thy gracious NAME all glory give;  
Which was, and is, and shall be glorious,  
as long as God is God, or LIFE doth live.   

But, unto us, Confusion onely's due;  
for, Flesh and Blood hath nought to glory in,  
But (that which may decayed shame renew,)  
a bleeding Conscience, and a world of Sin!   

But why doth Sol give Light, the Fire give Heat?  
why's Water cold? Earth, thick? or air so thin?  
The reason's clear; by kind, they do that feat:  
so, thou, by kind, (kind Lord) forgivest sin..   

Where Sin abounds, there Grace doth oe'er-abound;  
for, 'tis thy glory (God) Sins to forgive:  
For shouldst thou Sinners, with the Sin, confound,  
then, none should live; so, none should glory give.   

For, in the neither Hell they praise thee not,  
sith 'tis the Hold of hedious Blasphemy:  
There is the Land where all things are forgot  
save sad Despair, and Death which cannot die.   

But, in thine ever-blessed Hierarchy,  
the holy, holy, holy Lord of Hosts  
(In Soule-inchanting Heavenly Harmony)  
is ever heard through those Celestial Coasts.   

Then, make me such that, in the Life of grace,  
I temp'ra●●ly may glorify thy Name:  
And, in the Life of glory, face to face,  
I may, for ever, much more do the same.   

Consume the cloudy Fancies of my Mind  
with sacred flames of thine eternal Love;  
That, being by that purging fire refined,  
thou mayst if, on thy Trials Touch, approve.   

Then, let thy Glories zeal quite eat me up,  
that all my Being may consist therein:  
So, I'll carouse thy bitter Passions Cup;  
sith to my Health (kind Lord) thou didst begin.   

O let my life (poor life) nought else appear  
but a sweet-smelling Sacrifice to thee:  
Or rather let it be an Offering here,  
that, with thy loves fire, may consumed be.   

Then, metamorphose me into thy Love,  
let me be quite transmuted to the same:  
That I may ever upwards, flaming, move,  
as doth, by Nature, a material flame.   

O! bottomless Abyss of Charity,  
engulph me in thy Bowels, let thy Womb  
Receive Sins seed, that longs for sanctity;  
Then, let it still lie, buried, in this Tomb:  
That so, I may, quite dead to Sin, and Shame,  
Still live in LOVE, to love and praise thy NAME.    

A Repetition of Gods many Benefits, and preservations, with desire of the continuance thereof.  

Upon the bended knees of my poor Spirit,  
(made poor by thy rich Mercies showered thereon)  
Thy Virtue I adore, with all my might,  
o divine VIRTUE, Israel's Holy ONE!   

Sith thou, of thy unlimitable grace,  
hast deigned to make me know thy grace and power.  
Nay, showed to me the splendour of thy face,  
which doth my love, much more then much allure.   

For giving me my Being, being nought  
before; and since, and since, for mending me:  
Though yet (dear Lord) I am not as I ought;  
yet, as I am, I am most bound to thee.   

For that thou dost conserve me in such case;  
that, as a lively Member, I do feel  
Thy lively Members dolour, or disgrace;  
and sink in Soul, when they (near falling) reel.   

For that thou dost my Nature's essence keep  
from running to the wrack of grace and nature:  
And, of a Wolf, for making me a Sheep;  
and, of a Castaway, a costly Creature.   

A costly Creature I right well may say;  
sith it thy heart-blood cost to make me such;  
Even, then, when I was worse than cast away:  
for, I was damned before I knew so much.   

By thee I am, in sinful state, preserved  
from sinful state; which stands where Sin doth reign.  
By thee I am from prides contrect conserved;  
that fain would take out of thy hand thy reign.   

If I do fall, it's when Thou stayest me not;  
if I do rise, it's by thy helping Hand:  
But, I ne'er fall but when I have forgot  
that by thy Rod, and Staff, I rise, and stand.   

As many good thoughts as my heart ere held,  
he held, in Capite, of Thee his Head:  
If well my little-World I ere did wield,  
I did it with thy Power, but in thy stead.   

If none can say Lord jesus but by Thee,  
much less, without thee, thee can any serve;  
No more than Boughs yield Fruit, cut from the tree:  
than what we work for (Lord) thou dost deserve.   

Therefore, if I have fasted, watched, or prayed,  
if I have Crosses borne, with Back unbroke,  
If I have shed Contritions Tears, unstaid,  
or crossed my Will, or up thy Cross have took:   

If in my prayers I have thought on Thee,  
or that they have prevailed, or I relieved;  
Or if my Will to Virtue hath been free;  
all these, as gifts, from Thee I have received.   

How many virtuous Friends, and Ghostly Guides,  
how many good Examples, Lights of life,  
What like Books hast thou sent me, these beside,  
as Love-signes whilst thou wouldst me for thy Wife?   

All which, to thee, I freely do refer,  
that they, from thee, more freely may reflow:  
For, sith thou didst all these on me confer  
ere I was thine; now all Thine I do owe.   

But, to recount the Perils I have passed  
(thou being present, pointing out the way)  
Is more than well Arithmetic can cast,  
which do thy mercies, numberless, bewray!   

And, into what, more than prodigious, Crimes  
I might have fallen, hadst thou not me upheld,  
(Yea, hadst thou not prevented me be times)  
appears by those that have in sin excelled:   

For, never did the Devil sin so much,  
but that a frail Man may commit as great  
If, with thy grace, his Heart thou do not touch,  
and, with thy Power, the power of Sin defeat.   

As many Means, then, as I had to sin,  
and, fit Occasions as I had to fall;  
So many might my Sins, and Fals have been,  
if I by thee had had no help at all.   

Occasions, are so violent, in Power  
that they could Giant-foyling David fall:  
For, they once took him up into his Tower,  
from whence he fell, in part; and after, all.   

Occasion is a janus, which doth look  
to Vice and Virtue most indifferently;  
But, by Sins watching him, he oft is took,  
and made the mean of much Impiety.   

he's feigned to stand upon an upright Bowl,  
to show his course is most indifferent:  
Except he meets with rubs, which make him roll  
out of the way, which way those Rubs are bend.   

But, o! how often hast thou, with strong hand,  
●ane him out of my way, lest I should fall,  
By reason he, in my way, right, did stand:  
for oft I stumble at Occasion small.   

How oft hast Thou the FOES hand manacled,  
because he should not fight, or if he should  
I should be Victor, and not vanquished;  
and so get Grace, sith (tried) I held my Hold?   

How often have I marched upon my Foes,  
(the Adder, Viper, and the Cockatrice)  
And never was once stung, or hurt by those,  
(thou hadst so charmed the malice of their vice!   

How oft hast thou walked hand, in hand, with me,  
through Fire and Water, all untouched of either;  
Nay, so their Powers were tempered by thee,  
that they wrought for my comfort altogether!   

And, how oft have they quite consumed been  
who (for not worshipping their senseless Saws)  
Have, in Afflictions Furnace, kept me in,  
the whiles I sang, for joy, in sorrows jaws!   

That with the Psalmist, I may justly say  
I was sore thrust at, that I (so) might fall;  
But, thou overthrowest my thrusters, with my stay;  
as Balls quite break, thrown hard against a wall.   

How oft have my Sins sold me to thy wrath?  
how often have I fallen, yet never fell!  
For, in thy Mercy, which no measure hath,  
(though I did passing ill) I have done well!   

Though I gave, that, to Nature, due to Grace,  
and, to myself, that, which belonged to Thee;  
(Who mightst have graced Thee (then) with my disgrace  
yet gav'st thou grace, not shame, e'en then to me!   

And, though the Angels fell for less offence,  
and, that proud Babel-Monarch, for the same,  
Yet I, as one of more pre-eminence,  
escaped unscarred, in Body, Goods and Name!   

I Perils loved, yet perished not therein;  
by many by-ways I found out the right:  
With Grace familiar was I made by Sin:  
so, foiled I Sin by Sin, and not by fight.   

Was ever Love so won? was ever Man  
so wooed by GOD! or can my Soul conceive  
How much thy Mercies may, that so much can!  
or can I thee of Love (dear Love) deceive!   

O rather of my Being quite bereave me,  
and, turn me to my pristrin● Nihilhood,  
Then I should, so, of but mere Love deceive thee;  
that mak'st mine Evils do me so much good.   

Burn me (kind LOVE) to Nothing, that of nought  
thou may'st, in Love, make something, good for thee:  
Of nought, thou mad'st me good; mine Ill, I wrought:  
then, now, of nought, good make me ever be.   

Perfect, great Master-builder of mine All,  
thy Work begun; and let my Nothing be  
Apt to be-come, in Form, material;  
and, be conformed to matter loved of Thee.   

breath on this CHAOS (Lord) and let thy Spirit  
walk on the Waters of my Humours, vain:  
My Darkness, palpable, covert to Light;  
so, my Confusion shall, in Order, reign.   

O'er Sin, and Death, and darke-darke Ignorance,  
in dateless Terms of all Eternity's;  
The value of thy Virtue to advance,  
which, of thyself, above all Heights doth rise!  
This is my Hope, which is, because thou ART  
Just in thy Word, and Deed; in All, and Part!    

For Power and Grace to withstand the Flesh, the World, and the Devil.  

WHen I look up and see the Heavenly Spheres  
roll on my Time, and my Life's Line therein,  
Thus say I to my Soul; Vain Soul thy years  
are nothing, sith thou nothing dost but sin?   

Yet art thou made eternal (like thy Sire)  
and all conceivest (like him) beneath the Sun;  
thouart in my Whole and Parts (like him) entire;  
and hast (like him) right Reason Ill to shun!   

And yet, o yet, thou dost, but Ill withal;  
so all that good thou turn'st to Evil still:  
Who, through Infirmity, to Sin dost fall,  
when thou standest highest in grace of Powers goodwill.   

Then Lord of Power and Grace, with both so arm  
my falling Soul, that she thereby may stand  
Against th' Assaults of all that would her harm:  
for, she can foil but with thy Forces Band.   

Great Lord of Hosts, jehovah, God of Power,  
then leave me not alone among my Foes;  
But strengthen me from thy Strengths trusty Tower,  
that I, by Thee, may ever vanquish those.   

The Flesh the World, the Devil, with their Bands  
of strong as fraudful Foes, me still assail;  
While all my Power lies only in thy Hands,  
which when I hold, I foil; withheld, I fail!   

If then thou wouldst I still should Victor be,  
give me those helps that in thy hand still lie:  
Flesh fights not with itself; but thou in me  
canst foil it quite, and make it Mercy cry.   

The World doth love itself (and, so, her Own)  
too well t'endamage either; and doth charge  
Too strongly on me to be overthrown  
by my small power, if thou it not enlarge.   

And Satan, in himself, is not divided,  
though, in himself, still turbulent he be:  
He is too crafty, strong, and well-provided,  
for me t'encounter, if thou help not me.   

Then o eftsoons (again, and still again)  
I thine assistance humbly do invoke;  
That so I may still vanquish, so, still reign  
o'er these our Foes that ever us provoke.   

So will I yield the glory unto Thee,  
That foilst such strength by Weakness; that's by me!    

The Sinner, confessing his sin, striveth with God (by importunity of Prayer) for Grace.  

GReat God from whom no thought can be concealed  
sith it thou knowst ere thought; & searched hast  
All Hearts ere they, in Nature, are revealed,  
forgive my thoughts, that give thee but distaste.   

To my Confusion needs I must confess,  
my thoughts and Sin are One; and, so, most base:  
And though so base they be, yet n'erthelesse  
oft Grace they mind; so, Sin presumes on Grace.   

Lord! how am I depraved by Sin, that can  
scarce think a thought, but I do sin therein?  
Then blessed Lord, how canst thou choose but ban  
so vile a Slave, so subject unto Sin?   

I must not leave Thee thus; no, though my Heart  
be well-near Flint, I must not leave thee so:  
With thee, for Grace, I'll wrestle ere we part,  
then let me find it in mine Overthrow.   

And if such Sin thou dost forgive by Grace,  
and that where much is pardoned, Love is much,  
My Love shall overfill all Time and Place;  
such is my Sin, my Love shall then be such!   

Deny me not (dear Lord) for I will take  
no nay of thee; no; thou dost me invite,  
Being heavy laden, to thee;, o then make  
me free therefrom, lest it do quell me quite.   

And learn me (Lord) to woe thee for thy Grace;  
and win it, by my wooing, to relieve me;  
Thou canst soon lighten this my heavy case;  
then, thy Will's good, with good will then, forgive me.   

Make my Heart feel, although the while it ache,  
some Sign of Grace, that thereby I may know  
Thou lov'st such wooers as no nay will take;  
and Wrestlers such, as will not let thee go!   

Though speak I cannot as I would, my sprite  
still woos thy grace with sighs, than words more deep:  
Thou knowst her speech, and dost therein delight;  
then o let thy kind Answer make me weep.   

Thy Lovingkindnesse hath the power to strike  
her dumb with joy; and after make her shrill  
In thine applause: for, whom thou (Lord) dost like,  
thou still mak'st drunk with joy through thy goodwill!   

Then if I have found Favour in thy sight,  
or else wilt give me any hope of Grace,  
Make drunk my Soul with thy sweet loves-delight,  
and let her so (ioy-ravisht) thee embrace.   

I sue to thee, for that I needs must have;  
I cannot be without It, sith within  
It's all mine All: then, It I still will crave,  
until by ceasely begging it I win:  
Then, grant me grace from Sin me still to free,  
Else, by thy grace, I'll cry for't still to thee.    

The Sinner confessing he can neither will, think, nor do any good thing without Gods preventing and assisting Grace, importunes the same.  

O Thou that from the Bottom of Not-being  
didst raise me to be thus, a MAN, like Thee;  
And, ere I WAS, through thy divine Foreseeing,  
didst more then see what would become of me;   

Give, give me leave (thou God of endless Grace)  
to enterplead with Thee without thine ire:  
Why AM I, if thou turn'st from me thy Face,  
sith so a Brand I am but for Hell-Fire?   

I could not choose but Be when thou wouldst have me;  
for how could nothing cross Almightiness?  
And now I Am am lost, unless thou save me;  
but, none thou savest that still thy Will transgress.   

Nor, can I do thy Will, without thou wilt;  
and if thou wilt, thy Will no Power can cross,  
Much less my Weakness; then, if I be spilled,  
it seems thy Will, although my blame and loss.   

And yet thou sayst, thou wilt no Sinners Death;  
thy Word is Truth itself; then, if thou wouldst  
That I should live, o let me spend my Breath  
as those whom thou, by Grace, from sin with-hold'st.   

So in thy Will (which no Power e'er impugns)  
consists mine everlasting Weal or Woe:  
Then, not to me, so much as thee belongs  
to save me from eternal overthrow.   

I can but Will; but, well I cannot Will,  
if thou first will it not; nor ever shall:  
Then, will it first; for, I can will but Ill  
without thy Grace; so, Grace doth all in All.   

I cannot think, then much less can I do  
aught pleasing thee, without thy Grace first got:  
And yet to do it, still thou me dost woe;  
which, yet, I cannot, if thou do it not:   

For, look what good I do, it is not I  
but thou that dost it in and by me still:  
Then still I can do all things in and by  
thee (Lord of Power) agreeing with thy Will.   

O then incline my Will thy Will to do;  
and give me Power, with Will, else Will will fail:  
Will thou but this, then me thou needest not woe,  
because thy Will with mine must needs prevail!  
So, shall there be but one Will twixt us two:  
Grant this (dear Lord) for this I thee do woe.    

The Sinner because of the darkness of his understanding, confesseth his inability to come to the knowledge of Gods will by his Word; and desireth to be holp and enlightened by God's spirit therein.  

THou hast commanded (Lord) in every Want,  
that Man, thy Creature, still should call on thee;  
And thou his just desires hast said to grant,  
than now (o now) thy Promise keep with me:   

For now, e'en from the Bottom of the Deep,  
I cry to thee that art all Heights above;  
I, crying, call; or rather, calling, weep  
for what I want; that is, thy Grace, and love.   

Then, as thou art still soothfast, grant them me  
that by them still I may thy Hests perform;  
Then if thou wouldst I should obedient be,  
let Love and Grace my will to thine conform.   

Lo, I intend, and by thy holy Grace  
will still contend, thy holy Will to do;  
Then through the lustre of thy brightest Face,  
show it, that I may know, and do it too.   

Give that which thou hast given me Power to crave,  
and Promise to obtain; thy guiding Spirit:  
Thou still dost tender that which I would have;  
yet cannot take it, if I lack thy light.   

A Chaos (Lord) of Darkness still I am,  
without th'enlightening Spirit still move thereon;  
Then let thy Spirit with light so clear the same,  
that it may be an Heaven for thee alone.   

Vnseele mine Eyes, that long thy Light to see;  
for, they are blinded with black Ignorance:  
Then, Light of Lights, to Heaven direct thou me  
the rightest way with thy bright Countenance.   

Men are of various minds about this Way;  
some this, some say that way the way doth lie:  
And to it Scripture (Truth's right Rule) do lay;  
but Truth ne'er lay in such diversity.   

For, Truth is one, but these are manifold;  
then lead me in this way, else stray I shall:  
Incline my Will this rightest way to hold  
(how ever straight) and in it never fall.   

O trade me in thy Paths, I beg of thee  
with all the forces of my mind and mouth;  
And when I step awry, strait show it me  
by inspiration of thy Spirit of Truth.   

If in thy Word I look for help herein  
from all Presumption keep my private sprite:  
For, many Doctors so deceived have been;  
then make my Soul still see, and take the right.   

Thy Word's a Lantern to direct their steps,  
that are as humble, as intelligent:  
Yet oft the Wise thy meaning over-leapes,  
while it's revealed to the innocent.   

Thou spak'st therein to all Capacities,  
and lispst to Babes, to make them know thy mind:  
Yet if thou guide them not, and open their eyes,  
the Wonders of thy Law they cannot find.   

Thy Will then (shown and hidden in thy Word)  
is hid, though shown, from those not prompt by thee:  
Though Camels there may swim, and Gnats may ford,  
yet both may drown, if (there) too bold they be.   

In shallow'st places, there, great Clerks have sunk  
into the depth of Heresy, and drew  
Whole Nations after them; yea, made Kings drunk  
therewith, while they Beleevers-right pursue.   

So then, as none could ever see the Sun  
but by the Sun; so, none can rightly see  
Thee in thy Word, but by reflection  
of that pure Light of Lights that comes from thee!   

If so, then light me in that Light (thy Word)  
sith thou art Light of lights; else may mine Eyes  
Be dazzled, and (so) drown me in each Ford  
of those pure Rivers of thy Paradise.   

Thy Word is Truth; but those it doth misguide  
that know not well thy Language, nor will know;  
Sith they will learn but of them- selves and Pride;  
so, not thy Word, but they are erring so.   

None can be saved without they do thy Will,  
which none can do, unless the same they know:  
And none can know it, much less it fulfil,  
if it, by special grace, thou do not show.   

Then, if thou wilt that I shall saved be,  
(for thou wilt no man's Death that seeks thy face)  
Let me be taught to know thy Will by thee;  
and made to do it by thy Power and Grace:  
So shall I find what I am seeking still,  
To know Thee well, and well to do thy Will.    

An Invocation against use of offending, or bad Custom.  

Dear Lord! while I bethink me of the Ills  
that me surround; and weigh the Woes I feel  
Through mine own fault (which me with Sorrow (fills)  
from Life to Death I ready am to reel.   

The Sun of my Care-clouded life hath passed  
his full Meridian; and, doth now decline  
To Seas of griefs, where Age doth sink at last;  
and, at each breath, Death seeks it to define.   

Use of offending, in my passed Days,  
doth pass my strength to change, though fain I would  
Custom (to Nature turned) my Nature sways;  
and of my self, the while, I have no hold.   

Yet, if, I die ere so bad use I leave,  
my life must leave me hopeless at my death;  
For, what I give to GOD I shall receive;  
and, as I spend, so shall I yield my Breath.   

I mind to mend; but still procrastinate;  
for, my Familiar, Sin, is loath to part;  
And doth my half-dead body animate  
to use her still; so, wounds, and heals my Heart.   

But sith I am not sure to breathe once more,  
and that my life and death are well-near met,  
And Death t'eternall Weal or woe's the Door,  
why sin I now, my life's Sun near is set?   

What is in Sin, that it should so be witch?  
A bitter-sweet (if Sweet it be) and makes  
The Body glad, but still the Soul to grudge;  
and e'en from life the vitall-vertue takes.   

The wisest yet, that ever breathed this Air  
of human Race, well tried it to be so,  
Whose equal Wealth and Wisdom did repair  
to all in Nature, but this Sweet to know.   

And yet he found the Sour excelled the Sweet:  
the Sweet but short, the Sour surmounting Time:  
We want his Means, his high Delights to meet;  
yet hazard we our souls to them to climb!   

Lord, make me wise by his experience,  
who, in great wealth and Wisdom, played the Fool:  
And for mere Folly was at huge expense;  
then, let his follies me still wisely school.   

Yea, let me learn of Him that all doth teach;  
of whom the wisest learn Sins snares to shun;  
He was a King, and Preacher; and did preach  
that All is vanity beneath the Sun.   

If all be vain beneath, and true he says,  
let me above the Sun seek true delight;  
Which I shall find by walking in thy Ways▪  
so thou (dear Lord) consort me with thy sprite.   

O then consort me so, and with his power  
enable me all lets to overrun;  
Let me not stay one Minute of an How'r  
to joy in any thing beneath the Sun.   

But in thy Sun of justice let me joy,  
which fills the Heavens and Earth with purest light:  
Then, let all other joys my soul annoy,  
that so in him I may alone delight:  
Thou canst do this; then doubt I not thy Will,  
Which still is good, than my goodwill fulfil.    

The Sinner refers his Will to Gods will in all things▪ desiring help for perseverance therein.  

Dear Lord, and God, true Lover of my Soul,  
in my desires, I wholly do resign  
unto thy blessed Will this Will of mine  
To form, reform, direct, and still control.   

And as my Soul my body moves alone  
without whose motion it would still be still:  
so let thy Spirit still move my soul and will.  
Else, let them have no motion of their own.   

Let me forsake myself for thy dear sake;  
yea, truly hate myself for love of thee,  
and let no pleasures please or profit me,  
If thou (dear Lord) at them displeasure take.   

I offer unto thee mine All, and more  
(had I much more than All) to mortify  
my senses and affections; that thereby  
I may (so mortified) live evermore.   

Myself I (likewise) offer to the lack  
of sensible devotion, grace, and love,  
so it may humble me, and make me prove  
Thy might the more in my sins utter wrack.   

I offer (too) myself, with prompt desire,  
t'endure all loss, in name, fame, goods, and friends,  
all pleasure, pain, and what else flesh offends,  
That by their weight, my spirit may mount the higher.   

In sum; I offer up myself above  
myself, to all mischance that can befall  
save sin alone; yet, if thy goodness shall  
Put me in Hell, I'll brook it for thy love.   

And though it be impossible for Flesh  
to suffer it; yet, should my Will be priest,  
If thou wouldst have it so, in Hell to rest;  
For Love in quenchless flames can sense refresh.   

Then love me (Lord) and still my love inflame;  
then put me where thou wilt, I'll there abide  
without repining, ire, or ghostly pride,  
With Martyrs, that, in torments, laud thy Name.   

But sith by reason of my Flesh (too frail)  
I cannot be so prompt these pains to brook;  
then, help me (Lord) but with a loving look,  
And over Death and Hell I shall prevail.   

Look kindly on me then (dear Lord) and so  
Our Wills shall still be one in weal and woe.    

The Sinner desires fruition of the Deity; and that his Soul should be ever the habitation thereof.  

Eternal LORD, who art more prompt to hear  
then Faith to pray; of that great grace of thine  
Regard the Boon I ask in Love and Fear;  
and to mine humble suit thine ears incline.   

Grant me fruition of thy DEITY  
that all my Soul may so be satisfied;  
For less than that can her not satisfy,  
though all else (boundless) were still amplifide!   

Those gifts and graces that thy Grace may move  
t'inhabit my poor Soul, vouchsafe thou me:  
That with thy gifts thy grace may be in Love;  
and love my Soul for harbouring them, and thee.   

But, in those gifts O let her be reposed  
none outherwise then as they fashion her  
To harbour Thee; (that's, make her well disposed)  
else let her rest be restless ever there.   

My Son (saith thou, dear Lord) give me thy heart,  
o small request! my Heart, Lord! what is it  
But one poor bit of wormes-meate? can no Part  
of me delight thee, but so vile a bit?   

Why, thou didst wholly give thyself to me:  
shall I return thee then but that alone?  
O 'tis (sweet Saviour) most unworthy Thee;  
for which (thou knowst) it's, meekly, wo-begon▪   

Yet gladly would I give it; but, it is  
so small, unclean, unquiet, and accursed,  
That I do fear to give it so amiss,  
sith, of all gifts, it's worse than the worst.   

Yet take it (Lord of Love) it is thine own,  
how e'er I have abused it; make it such  
As thou wouldst have it; let it still be known  
fit for thy Stamp, upon thy Trials Touch.   

O glorious King, what grace is't to our Hearts  
to be accepted, and desired of thee?  
Then take my Heart, yea, all mine other parts;  
for they are safe in thee, but lost in me.   

And is this all thy gain (o kindest Lord?)  
and is this all our gift, one wretched Heart?  
And for the same dost thou thyself afford?  
then take it to thee (Lord) through joy, or smart.   

For, nothing can I give thee, but the same  
augments my gain and glory endlessly:  
Then take it wholly, set me all on flame  
to melt me into thee by Charity!   

For, were my Heart as great as is the Heaven  
that all includes; and, that past price it were,  
It should to thee (desiring it) be given,  
sith, I have thee for it, who hast no Peer.   

Then, World be silent, call it not again;  
Flesh be as still, permit it still to go;  
And Devil strive not; for, it is in vain;  
my God will have it, than it shall be so.   

Vade, vade; for, all you cannot fill my Heart,  
my God alone can do it; and He must  
Have it to fill: then from me all depart,  
that seek to fill it but with wind or dust.   

And sole Sufficer, chain it still to Thee  
with Adamantine Links of endless Love;  
That through those straits which thou hast passed for me,  
it may be drawn to thee, if slow it move.   

Let it attend thee to the judgement-hall,  
where thou wast doomed to death; and to the Hill,  
Whereon thou suffer'dst; let it taste thy Gall;  
and; on thy Cross let it be fixed still:  
That being with thee thus plagued, disgraced & slain,  
It may with thee be raised, and crowned, and reign.    

A sovereign Salve against Sin and Despair out of S. Augustine.  

Dear Lord, when sinful thoughts do me assail  
to thy dear Wounds than let me high with speed;  
When burning lust against my thoughts prevail,  
quench it, by minding me how long they bleed!   

In all Extremes I find no Mean so good  
as thy wide Wounds to keep my Soul still whole▪  
They cannot die that drowned are in thy blood;  
for, that is Aqua vitae to the Soul!   

Thy Death is my desert; then do I not  
lack merits; sith thy Death destroys my Sin:  
Thy Mercy is my merit; and, my Lot  
is glory's Crown, through my firm hope therein:   

For, if thy grace be great; then is it clear  
my glory shall be great: and, the more power  
Thou hast to save, the less I ruin fear:  
for, Grace abounding, makes loves hope secure.   

Yet I acknowledge mine iniquities;  
and, Conscience, with her thousand Witnesses,  
Accuse me of extreme impieties;  
yet will I hope of mercy ne'ertheless:   

For, where Sin hath abounded, there hath grace  
abounded more; so, love inflaming in  
The grieved delinquent: who doth interlace  
sweet tears of joy, with bitter Tears for sin..   

For, who despairs, God, utterly denies;  
deny his Attributes, himself deny:  
His justice we provoke; his mercies rise  
but from him- self, who is self- Clemency!   

Then, let my thoughts still murmur while they will,  
and ask, why such a Sinner grace should seek?  
Yet in firm hope I will continue still,  
sith he hath promised that cannot break.   

Who can do what he will; and he will do  
what he hath sworn: which is; he will make whole  
The broken Heart for sin, and grace it too;  
yea, help contrition in the willing Soul.   

My Sins (though great) then, me no whit dismay,  
when his dear Death I mind: for, all my Crimes  
Can ne'er o'er-match his Mercies, if I pray  
for grace, to hope in his sure help betimes.   

His Thorny Crown, and Nails, that him transpierced  
assures my hope that He and I are One:  
Which have his judgemeuts 'gainst my sins reversed,  
if I but grieve for what I have misdone.   

Longius hath cleared the sad coast to his Heart  
with his fell Spear; that (kind to me) made way:  
There rest I now in joy and joyful smart,  
of safety sure, while there, in hope, I stay.   

Upon the Cross he doth his Arms extend,  
t'embrace the Contrite: then, between those arms,  
Devoutly will I throw me till mine end;  
so, safe I shall be there, from foes, and harms.   

He bowed his Head, before Death broke his Heart,  
to kiss his Lovers with the kiss of Peace;  
Then, still I'll kiss him: so, shall I depart  
in peace to him that is my sins release.   

Sweet Christ embrace me then, and kiss me till  
I die to live, to clip and kiss thee still.    

The crazed Soul being almost in despair, desireth Grace to hope in God's mercy.  

LOrd, in thy Love, let me be none of them  
that love but in a Calm; a time believe;  
But when a Storm ariseth, do blaspheme;  
and with infernal S'prits, thy Spirit do grieve.   

Thus what I need, I crave; but what I fear  
thou knowst (dear Lord:) I fear I am too bold  
To seek thy love, because I do appear  
no correspondence with thy love to hold:   

For, he that merits hate (Lord) how can he  
strait look for love? & who hath shame deserved  
Seek for immortal glory? or, to be  
from shame and pain, which he deserves, preserved?   

He moveth but his judge to justest wrath  
that, being faulty, looks he him should clear,  
Without meet satisfaction for the scathe  
which he hath done; all these my hopes do fear.   

For, he that is to shame and death condemned  
small reason hath to look for highest respect;  
If but his death by grace might be redeemed,  
in sense, it should be all he could expect.   

But why, o why, do I now call to mind  
what I have done, to make my fears more rife?  
Death I deserve; yet seek I life to find,  
that live but to offend the Lord of life.   

Can I still vex my judge, yet look for grace?  
and still provoke my King, yet seek his love?  
Nay, still but buffet my sweet jesus face,  
and yet expect he should my jesus prove?   

Alas! how should he? much less how can I  
such favour seek, that so his Favour wrongs?  
Can wrong expect such right, in equity?  
o no: for, vengeance to the same belongs!   

Vengeance belongs to wrongs so great, so plain,  
as so to wrong a MAJESTY so great!  
Then Fear persuades me I seek grace in vain;  
yet Grace makes hope some Favour to entreat.   

I have neglected to foresee the woes  
that follow sin, and now would grace forego:  
I oft have taken mortal overthrows,  
yet scarce have felt a mortal overthrow.   

I have increased my scars that feared not  
to add still sin to sin, and grave to light:  
Fresh Wounds have opened those before I got,  
to make the Cure most hard, or cureless quite.   

And what the Ba●mes of Grace had closed before,  
I, through the itch of sin, have opened wide:  
Which, through corruption, now are grown so sore  
that scarce I can so sore a Cure abide.   

The Skin, which growing over, hid my Wounds  
through breaking out of the corruption, gape;  
For, sin the grace once granted quite confounds:  
so that I fear I hardly can escape.   

For, if the righteous man shall perish in  
his sin committed: how much more than shall  
Repentant sinners turning eft to sin?  
the thought whereof more grieves me then my fall.   

The newly dead, Christ quickly raised to life;  
but he must groan in spirit, weep, cry and pray,  
Yer Lazarus be raised: for, mortal strife  
Death made with life, to leave so long a Prey:   

So, it is in Regeneration; for,  
the less the soul's defiled with sins delight,  
And the more she the least sin doth abhor;  
the less wind of God's Spirit revives that spirit,   

What shall I do? I can but sin (dear Lord)  
if so; thou canst but plague, yea, plague with Death:  
Sith still I sin then, in thought, deed, and word,  
cut off my sin, or else abridge my breath:   

For, Breath it is that kindles sin in me  
with blowing at the coals of damned desires;  
These, through my baneful breath, still raging be;  
and quite consume the grace that me inspires.   

Then, if I did not breath, I should not sin;  
yet should I lose my breath e'er sin bewail  
I by that loss should but damnation win:  
then, let me rue my faults yer Breath doth fail:  
But, if thou wilt that I should longer live,  
Let me no longer sin, or longer grieve.    

A desire of the loving Soul, of God, to be kissed with the kiss of Peace.  

Kiss me, o kiss me, with loves honeyed Kiss,  
o dearest Love, and sweet'st-Heart of my Soul:  
Whose love is like pure Wine that cordial is;  
& doth sour cares, with Comforts sweet, control   

Thy Name is like to sweet suffused Balm;  
which makes chaste Souls e'en sick for love of thee:  
Whose Passions (striving in a blessed calm  
on sorrows Seas) to thee still rolling be.   

Draw me (dear Love) then, after thee I'll run  
upon the scent of thy divine Perfumes:  
My love's impatient (since it first begun)  
of this delay, which quite my Soul consumes:  
Then, o, delay no more to marry me;  
But wed my Soul that pines for love of Thee.    

Sith all God's Creatures are against those that are against GOD, in action, the Sinner desireth to be in unity with him.  

AS when a Master hath most mortal Foes,  
his Servants, and men, made by him, will be  
Most persecuting Enemies to those,  
till with their Lord and Master they agree.   

So, all thy Creatures (Lord) do rise in Arms  
against great Sinners (if impenitent)  
To plague them with all kind of kill harms,  
till they be ruined quite, or made repent.   

But being one with Thee, our Enemies  
shall seek our Favour, and themselves submit:  
For, when they see our Succours in the Skies,  
they will adore us, and acknowledge it:  
Then make me (Lord) my foes strait put to flight,  
By being one with Thee, for whom they fight.    

The Sinner desireth to have the bent of his Will, made appliable to Gods.  

THe Way to Heaven (that truest Port of Peace)  
is strait and strait until at Hell we be:  
Where, on the right hand then, we turn with ease;  
for, when we pass that Point; then, well are we.   

But, being strait, but few that Way do wend;  
and being strait, the crooked miss it still:  
Then, to this Port, but few their course do bend,  
sith most are crooked; ever bend to iii.   

Then, make us strait (dear Lord) with handling strait;  
or, bring us to thy bent with other Art;  
We know thine upright Compass hath the sleight  
to bow us to the bending of thy Heart:  
That we may shoot (and still may winners prove)  
The Shafts of our Endeavours at thy love.    

The Sinner inveighes against his flesh's frailty, desiring God to strengthen it with his power, and Grace.  

VIle Flesh, why dost thou so my Spirit impugn,  
That still the Son of Righteousness I wrong  
who died to make you live?  
No Moment breath I, but I breath out Sin  
That ends with shame, where Sorrow doth begin,  
which makes me glad to grieve.   

In thee frail Flesh, I feel my blood to boil  
With heat of such desires as make the Soil  
but Sin, in grain, to bear.  
My Spirits (that in that Blood do swim with pain,  
Yet float they, sith false pleasures them sustain)  
are near the wrack I fear.   

I fear the Rock of refuge to the Just:  
For, how, in Truth, should Treason put her trust?  
Then, truthless Traitor, I  
May justly fear, that Grace, in justice, will  
My graceless Soul, for Flesh's Treasons, spill,  
which makes me (living) die.   

I living dye, not as one mortified  
To sin; wherein, as dead, alive, I bide;  
The more my grief and blame:  
I fain would die to live; but, Flesh doth draw  
My Life to Death, sith I observe the Law  
of Sin, which is my shame.   

O thou, whom jacob wrestled with a space,  
Strengthen my Faith to wrestle with thy Grace,  
that it may set me go  
(Although it lame my Loins, and crack my Thighs,  
Wherein strong Sin still domineering lies)  
into thy Weal through Woe.    

The Sinner recounting his manifold transgressions, and finding himself thereby in danger of perdition, desireth Grace, through a world of sorrows, to avoid both Sin, and damnation.  

MY Soul (still faint in doing well: and strong  
in working ill) now, now thyself retire  
From outward Cares: or else amidst their throng  
pour out thy Sorrows to thy heavenly Sire.   

Thy scattered thoughts (in Fancies lewd, as light)  
gather together; and with all thy Powers,  
(United) show thy sin and cursed plight;  
sith meek Confession grace, for sin procures.   

Weighing my deeds, I find too light they be;  
yet, more than I can bear; nay, me they quell:  
So, am far lighter, if thou balance me;  
and yet my lightness weighs me down to Hell!   

Shame shall not let me (though it boil my Blood)  
t'unfold the foul diseases of my Soul  
To him, that can and will (so) do me good;  
and, make her Angell-faire, though ougly-foule.   

My Time then, to my shame I must confess,  
(unto my Souls Physician, grace to win)  
Hath all in sin been spent; yet, ne'ertheless,  
too short I thought it for my shortest sin!   

If I, at any time, did seeming-good  
'twas but corrupt, or counterfeit at least:  
And, so, 'twas but well done in likelihood,  
being but a sin well-coulored, at best.   

My deeds with ill have (then) depraved been,  
or else of good deprived; so, both accursed:  
And, if my best be nought but cloaked sin;  
what are my worst, but worse than what is worst!   

Not for committing odious sins in act,  
but for omitting deeds of Charity;  
(Which justice, at her judgement, will exact)  
the Reprobate are damned; and, so, may I:   

For, 'tis but half the duty of my whole  
to do no ill; but, still, I good should do  
With all the care and forces of my Soul;  
else ill I may be doomed; and, damned too.   

God gave me life, but for his Service; than  
I must account how I each moment spend;  
And, sinned I not; yet, sith I am a Man  
that doth no good, it's damned in the end.   

And, were my deeds united, and (withal)  
cleared from pollution, and from all defect,  
Yet are they nought to gifts mere corporal,  
which I have had, and yet have, in effect.   

So that too like an idle beast I am,  
that still devoureth more than he doth earn;  
And looks for food ere he deserves the same;  
nor, doth the givers gifts, from Fates discern.   

O! out upon me (most ungrateful beast  
abusing Reason, as if I had it not)  
What shall I say (dear Lord) I must, at least,  
confess I have thy goodness most forgot.   

O! with what Marble Eyes, or flinty Front  
shall I the glory of thy presence brook,  
Who art both judge (of me to take account)  
and Witness too, as witness will thy Book!   

And yet (alas!) less power I have to shun  
thy presence, then have heart the same t'abide;  
For, thou art all in All: then, can I run  
from thee, when thou dost compass all, beside!   

Yet have I been (but in Civility)  
more loath t'offend my meanest mortal Friend,  
Then (in good Conscience) so great majesty  
that filleth All, and All doth comprehend!   

And have (I shame to say't) more shamed to sin  
in sight of men, then in thy dread aspect:  
My Soul is blind; so, saw thee not within:  
and mortal Eyes, but mortal things respect.   

And for the Graces which thou gav'st to me,  
to glorify the Giver, I (vile wretch)  
Have to myself the glory ta'en from thee:  
so, with thy gifts, I do thee still impeach.   

I have not loved thee for thy mercy; nor,  
have feared thee for thy justice: yea, thy might  
(Though most almighty) I did most abhor  
when it, in justice, on me (wretch) did light.   

Thou hast to me revealed thy Will; but look  
how often I have glossed it with mine own,  
(Were it within, or else without thy Book)  
so oft hath thine, by mine, been overthrown.   

And if, I reckon right between thy Law  
and mine observance; (though I fear thy Rod)  
I must confess near David's fool I draw,  
that said in Soul (at least) There is no God.   

I have observed nought but what my sense,  
(depraved sense) being Ill, did hold for good;  
Which Ill (with all the Storms of foul Offence)  
still wrought upon the Current of my Blood.   

Mine Eyes, are sharp, as eager, still to pry  
into men's worst parts rather than their best;  
And wrench that little much, that is awry;  
and, what's most right, to make it less, at least.   

Apt to detract from others; and exact  
praise to my self from others: this is it  
That makes me envy every witty Tract,  
unless it be composed by my Wit.   

As apt (most apt) to give, as take offence;  
hard to be pleased, displeased too easily:  
As prompt to Choler, as to violence,  
but, fearing death; yet (desperate) priest to die!   

In reasoning rash; and yet soon (rudely) round  
to compass Faith to falsehood (soon) thereby:  
And where Truth stands, to throw her on her ground  
in beastly rage, until she seem to lie.   

False in Humility, and true in pride;  
in jesting, rough; and rash in censuring:  
To govern, I have made my Heart too wide;  
t' obey too strait, through griefs strait governing.   

More than the Mount Veswius have I burned  
in vain Ambitions ever-raging flame;  
And, all good gifts and graces have I turned  
to fuel; burning in desire of fame.   

Thou gav'st me gifts where of the praise I sought;  
so, robbed thee (Lord) of glory, and (with speed)  
I wages seek, for that which thou hast wrought:  
for, for thy Works in me, I look for meed.   

More proud than Lucifer (the Fount of Pride)  
for, he, being glorious mac'e, might soon o'erweene;  
But I, being bred of but Slime-putrifide,  
usurped thy praise; so, much more proud have been.   

Wherein, if thou hast crossed me, I have stormed  
worse than that Hellhound: for, he fell to Hell;  
Then easily might fume, being so enormed;  
but I on Earth, at ease, against thee swell.   

The lightest pleasures make me (lighter) dote:  
but, easiest pains do press me down to death:  
If Fates but smile, in pleasures Seas I float;  
and if but frown, it e'en expires my breath.   

I foulest Vices, under virtuous Names,  
do patronize: as, extreme Cruelty,  
For upright justice; Love of lightest Dames,  
for perfect Zeal; Self-love, for Charity:   

Craft, for true Wisdom; Pride, for Cleanliness;  
Baseness, for Meekness; Doubt, for Holy Fear;  
Mere Cowardice, for discreet Wariness;  
Rashness, for Manhood; Covetise, for Care.   

And so of others (in none other sort)  
I vaunt their vice, with virtuous terms involved;  
And have an eye but only to Report  
while I, but right to seem, am wrong resolved.   

All good Instructions fall into my Soul,  
as Aprill-showres into the Sea do fall;  
Whose swelling surges do their drops control;  
and ever turn their sweetness into Gall.   

When I have been reproved for aught unright,  
I would deny, excuse, or it defend:  
Or else reproach my just reprovers strait;  
and so, without offence, would fain offend.   

If I have vowed devotion; and (withal)  
have tasked myself with holy Exercise;  
I soon infringed it (were it ne'er so small)  
so, loathed I Manna, Leeks to gormandize.   

And look how one that taketh fire in hand,  
but out of hand strait thowes it; cannot hold  
The heat thereof; so, I do understand  
but small effect of Prayer made so cold.   

As Cates unchewed, have they passed from me  
without concoction, not without annoy;  
For, when I think they went away so free,  
my Soul is sick with grief, and grieved with joy.   

Thus lose I still my time in going on,  
and coming off from every good attempt:  
So, purpose without prosecution,  
leaves my best actions (idle) in contempt.   

With but beginnings have I worn my days;  
and oft have failed, but in the mere assay:  
Yet, for but failing, have I looked for praise;  
(o shame!) sith I good motions did obey.   

I (likewise) have been light in my Dsiere;  
now this, now that, and then the other face  
(Sparks of thy beauty) set my Heart on fire  
with Beauty's grace to sin, for want of grace.   

So, could not walk abroad, but that (anon)  
my wandering sight would give thy sight offence;  
For, every sparkling Eye mine lighted on,  
through mine, strait kindled my Concupiscence.   

For, this (too oft) I have abused the Muse  
thou gav'st me, but to woe thee, for thy Love;  
But I (lewd Lover) did her Measures use  
to meet frail motions, strongly, so, to move.   

Thus Beauty (that should make me love thee more)  
I made the wrist, to rend my love from thee:  
So, both with mine, and others gifts, did gore  
the Givers heart, erst split for love of me.   

And if I made (as seldom so I did)  
a Covenant with mine Eye that it should gaze  
No more on Beauty; yet (the more forbid)  
the more, thereby, it glanced on Beauty's Blaze.   

Alas! how brutish have I been the while,  
that (like a Beast) have swayed been by sense;  
And made my Reason obey Affections vile,  
repugnant to mine own Intelligence!   

O life (dead life, deprived of life of grace)  
how stirrest thou so, without that vital power?  
Thou art too proud, and yet too beastly base:  
at highest height but like a fading Flower.   

O Lord of life, a death it is to me  
to mind my life so drowned in deadly sin!  
Which though it Be, and move, and live in Thee;  
yet (as without thee) it hath cursed been:   

For, I have made no scruple to offend;  
but with such boldness have I sinned as it  
Had been a mean but to a blessed end;  
so, seemed to sin with Will, enforced by Wit!   

Nay, should I bring my best deeds to thy Test,  
they'll prove but dross of m●e●e Hypocrisy;  
Or Vice in virtues habit, at the best,  
which is too bad for basest Piety.   

With Jacob's voice, and Esau's hands I held  
my Soul to sin, and good opinion too:  
The wicked (so) the World, at will, do wield;  
which fain I would, but that I cannot do.   

The World's t'vnweildy for my feeble gripe;  
it still falls from me sith I cannot hold;  
And, at each fall, thou giv'st me (Lord) a stripe,  
sith, though I cannot wield it yet I would.   

Yea, would much rather than my wild affects,  
or aught that holy men do take in hand:  
For, my best doings, my just doubt suspects,  
sith they in doubt of doing ill do stand.   

How tedious Time hath seemed when I have prayed!  
how wearisome the practice! tired how soon!  
How much distracted! and how well paid  
when it was done, though done ere well begun!   

So was I like but one of pilate's Slaves,  
that crouched to thee (o Christ) but to offend:  
So my best actions are but holy braves,  
that have more show than strength to foil the Fiend.   

Have I done good to any? if I have,  
'twas but of debt; and though it were but lent,  
I prized it more, and bragged of what I gave;  
so, all my good was done with ill intent.   

Have I discoursed of things that heavenly were?  
In curious Questions (lightly it was done:  
As where Heaven stands? and Hell (it local) where?  
not how to come to Heaven, and Hell to shun.   

I have been prompt to learn, what Wisdom would  
abhor to teach; and I have Ears and Eyes  
To hear and see, but what she scorns t'unfold;  
for, I attend to nothing that is wise,   

What shall I say (that have so much to say;  
for, endlesle plaint holds endless Sin in chase)  
My first, was filth; my progress, Sin; my stay,  
is double death, without God's treble grace.   

O Sin (the Souls death; and, of Death, the life)  
I would not shun thee, when (at first) I might;  
And now I cannot without endless strife;  
then, help me Grace, with strong sin still to fight.   

My Soul is tired with vanity and Sin;  
I loathe to live; and yet I fear to die:  
Then (wretch) what should I do but now begin  
to die to live, sith living-death is nigh!   

But, ah (alas) could I weep endlessly,  
it were but meet mine endless sins to clear:  
But though I should lament them ceaselessly  
in longest mortal life, too short it were.   

Yet, will I not despair; no, God forbid:  
seven times a day, the justest men do fall:  
And though, from men, the fall and bruise be hid,  
yet, thou dost see them both, who seest All.   

At all hours no man's wise: for, sober Noah,  
may be oe'er-come with Wine: stout Abraham too  
Through terror lie: Meek Moses may destroy  
th' Egyptian in his ire; and, so, misdo.   

Religious joseph, irreligiously  
swear by the life of Pharaoh (faith to bind)  
God Darling David, hide Adultery  
with murder of his Servant, true as kind.   

Wise Solomon, the veriest Fool became,  
when Pharos Daughter, and his Pagan- wives,  
(Through gross Idolatry) made him defame  
God's truth: so Blots, the clearest have in their lives.   

Saints, so are called; as every thing is named  
of whatsoe'er therein most worthy is:  
As Golden-mines are styled so, though framed  
more full of Dross then Golden- rarities.   

And so the best men, though inherent Vice  
may over-weigh their Virtue; yet, we see,  
theyare called virtuous by their virtues price,  
that doth out-price the Vice, though more it be.   

Then give me courage (Lord) t'advance my Hope  
to thy great mercy (that doth equal thee)  
And let All, covered with the Heavenly Cope,  
for thy dear Love, be but as Dung to me.   

Vain pleasures pack, Preferments-vaine, avaunt,  
that would but make me quite forget to die;  
My Soul, ye Sirens, do no more enchant:  
for, if you do, I'll break your strongest Tye.   

And all my joy shall now but be in grief▪  
grief for the joy which I conceived in sin:  
So, nought but dying shall be my relief:  
for, life well lost, immortal life doth win.   

Lord, give me strength to offer violence  
to wicked Custom, till I break it quite:  
And, still to strive with Nature, Sin and Sense,  
until they strive no more in Peace nor fight.   

And, for my Sins, come all annoys on me  
in royall-armies till you blow me up.  
Above the ●unne; and all despites that be  
fall freely on me from my saviours Cup.   

Scorn me, proud World, still look on me ascance;  
deride me, Devil, plague me, do thy worst:  
Nay (Lord) from me conceal thy Countenance;  
so thou, in fine, wilt bless me so accursed.   

And, for I have despised thee (Lord of All)  
let all that Is, despise me till I die;  
Nay, let disgrace, with death, upon me fall;  
so I may rise to grace, and life thereby.   

O thou, my cursed Nature, swollen with Pride,  
swell not against contempt (though ne'er so vile)  
Take all and more, if more can be beside  
contempt of all; and, joy therein the while.   

For, being nothing, of myself, but Sin;  
or else (besides that But) I Nothing am;  
How can or sin, or Nothing, Glory win  
but through a World of woe, contempt, and shame?   

Skill, will, and power then give me (Lord) to break  
this headstrong jade, my Flesh; and, make it glad  
To bear a World of woe; to make it meek;  
and, but for falling under it, be sad.   

I am thy Work●, then, work thy Will in me;  
And, make my Carriage (Lord) from falling●ree ●ree.    

That the virtuous have the Promises of this life, as well as of that to come.  

THy Friends (dear Lord) are too much honoured;  
thy Persecutor to thee reconciled,  
Had Sacrifices to him tendered:  
so much the World is forced t'adore thy Child!   

The People freely their possessions sell,  
to lay the Price at thine Apostles feet:  
To whom the worst of Ills do fall out well;  
and Gall itself, to them made Sugar-sweet!   

Then, what but Gall itself will Honey seek  
besides the Honey of thy sweetest Love?  
For, who are more exalted than the meek,  
sith Heaven and Earth of them do most approve?  
Then, if thou make me meek, thou mak'st me more,  
Then Heaven and Earth: for, both will me adore.    

For perfect Union with God, and Grace to shun all Lets that may hinder it.  

WHen I (sweet Saviour) mind the Orison  
thou mad'st thy Maundy-night (with strong effect  
When as thou praid'st for perfect union  
between thy Father, thou, and thine elect.   

I am thereby encouraged to pray,  
that in that Union (though too base I be)  
I may b'included, if so be I may  
(being so vile) so inward be with thee.   

Which can be hardly (if at all it can)  
without my Soul forsake the Flesh and Fiend  
And all besides thee, be it Angel, Man,  
or what soever, for Thee her only END!   

But, this she cannot do without thy Grace,  
thy grace preventing, and assisting both:  
Then grace her so that she may thee embrace;  
and in respect of thee, all others loath.   

By that dear unexampled Love that made  
thee hang all naked on the Cross, vouchsafe  
That I may live with thee, as nought I had  
beside: though I the World beside, should have.   

And if it may be (Lord) o let me live  
without the least Sin: for, the least that is  
Doth let our Union, and doth ever strive  
to sever me for ever from thy Bliss.   

Then, grant that I my body so may keep  
from all transgressing, that I may not move  
One joint t'vnioyne us; but my Soul to sweep  
from all Pollution, that doth let thy love.   

That, from offending, it may be as clear,  
as it was made by thee (in Thee to rest)  
And though she cannot be so perfect here,  
yet make Her still desire the same, at least.   

Yea, make me will no joy (for that is none)  
that is not in thee: and, the Bread I eat,  
Let it no more delight me than a Stone,  
but only, but to serve Thee, take my meat!   

And, when my Palate proves some Food too sweet,  
then let me think how much more sweet thou art,  
That mad'st it such; so, make me make it meet  
to make me taste thy Sweetness in my Heart.   

So let me use all Creatures, pleasing Sense,  
to send me to Thee, cause of that Effect.  
So, in them still, taste but thine Excellence;  
and, by them still, the more the same affect.   

Yea, let no Sweet (of whatsoever kind,  
that's but created) once my Soul allure  
From thee (sweet Lord) or from continual mind  
of thy dear Sweetness, that all Sweets procures.   

But, Love and Meekness are the only two  
to m●ke us one (●eare Sweet) that divers be:  
Then let highest Love, and lowest Meekness too  
make one of tw●; that's, one of thee and me.   

And, meek to make me, let me ever mind,  
I am nought, have nought, know nought, nought can do,  
And nought desire; nor se●ke but Grace to find  
to love thee highly and be lowly too.   

Then make me rich in Soul and poor in spirit;  
rich in good deeds, and yet most poor in thought:  
When I do best, to ween I worst do mer●●;  
and, when most good, to think I am most nought.   

So, by the bypath (that but Fools do find)  
of true Simplicity, that's just, and free,  
To run to Thee, and leave the World behind  
to think me mad, for running so to Thee.   

But let me so be still besides myself,  
and still besides the Way the World doth roam,  
Though it with Flowers be strewed, and paved 〈…〉,  
yet set me fly it in my hying home.   

The Heau'n-rapt Saint was so himself beside:  
for, he all eartly Dainties held as Dung;  
And while, as mad, the most did him deride,  
he went to Thee a narrow way and long.   

Nay, thou thyself (dear Lord that all dost school)  
because thou didst elect this Way to go  
And that reject, attired waist like a Fool,  
and so esteemed: then let me fool it so.   

But hide my life in thee; so, shall I live  
a light to all that walk in wayward mood;  
For, them thou hidest that good example give  
from every Ill; then let me give this good.   

But when I give it, let me think I give  
the good thou gav'st: for, all good gifts are thine:  
So shall I rightly think, while ●o I live;  
and all the praise thereof to thee resign;  
So let me do and think; so shall I gain  
True Unity with thee, in joy and Paine!    

The Sinner in great sorrow for Sin, relieth on God for grace and comfort.  

ON thy help (Lord) I rely,  
then, poor I  
Perish must, if thou restrain it:  
O then stretch thy helping-hand,  
or command.  
That I may with speed obtain it;  
For, as one forgotten quite,  
out of sight,   

I (forlorn) in sorrow languish.  
Help, o help me then with speed:  
for, I feed  
(As on Bread) on nought but Anguish!  
If I sin, I sigh therefore,  
and deplore   

That I have in aught offended;  
Yea, my Soul doth waste with woe,  
sith I know  
Sin doth mar what Th●●s hast mended.  
feign I would, then, cease to sin,  
and begin  
Now to live as thou hast willed:  
But, if by Thee (that didst fire  
that desire)  
It be not, of me, fulfilled;   

I, at best, but well shall will.  
doing ill,  
Then I shall for it be vexed:  
So shall I but sin and grieve  
while I live;  
And in Conscience be perplexed.   

It is tedious to my Spirit  
day and night,  
Thus to sin, then pine in passion:  
For, being stayed, yet still to fall,  
is no small  
Sign of death or reprobation.   

Help, then help me (Lord) lest I  
doubtful dye:  
Make my sorrows pass my sinning;  
That I may so cease to sin,  
so to win  
Better end than my beginning:   

For, in sin, conceived I was,  
so (alas)  
Sinful am, sith so conceived:  
Then, of force, sith I am such,  
do not grudge  
I should be to Grace received.   

With more grief my Sin I wound,  
than I found  
Pleasure in the sin committing.  
O then let my sorrows still  
sinning kill,  
While thy Graces us be knitting.   

Blessed God then make me grieve  
while I live,  
For my grieving thee so blessed:  
Let my Tears still quench the fire  
of thine Ire,  
Till I be of Grace possessed.   

So shall I (to shun thy wrath)  
tread the Path  
Of thy Bid, till my dying;  
Or, on wings of loves desire  
still aspire  
To thee; then, o take me flying.    

The Sinner acknowledging repugnant desires in himself; desireth to be enabled to perform his good desires.  

I Would be thine, and I would have thee mine  
(dear Lord) and yet I cross mine own desires:  
For still I sin; then, cannot I be thine;  
yet fain I would with thee be still entire.   

Then, I desire what my desires resist:  
o strange repugnance! would I thee enjoy,  
And yet in that, which severs us, persist?  
then, my desires do my desires destroy.   

True (Lord) how ever false this seems to be;  
it false but seems; but, it's too true herein:  
For, my poor Soul would nothing more than thee,  
and yet my Soul doth nothing more than sin.   

Lord help me in this strange extremity  
of cross desires, which in my Soul are found;  
My Will is bound to Sin, but would be free;  
then, if it would, how should my Will be bound?   

Were it my Flesh alone, desired to sin  
(my Soul resisting) 'twere not so amiss:  
Such cross- desires in thy best Saints have been;  
but in my Soul my Sin conceived is.   

And yet she's barren, gauly, and impure;  
of emptiness not empty; and thereby  
A soulless Soul; so, lifeless doth endure;  
yet lives in Death, because she cannot die.   

Then empt mine empty Soul; for, Sin doth fill  
with nought but vacuum her capacious thought:  
For, Sin is nothing, sith thou mad'st not Ill,  
without whom nought was made; then, empt this nought.   

For, 'tis that Law (though nought) that still rebels  
against both grace and nature's Government;  
This lawless Law my members still compels  
to bow as Sins unrighteous Rule is bend.   

Lord, I believe; yet, help mine unbelief;  
and well do will; yet, better my desire:  
Cure thou the Wound my Will received (in chief)  
through Adam's Fall; and make our Wills entire.   

Give me both Will and Power to do thy Will;  
and let me neither have to cross the same:  
For, when I see my Will would thine fulfil  
yet doth it not, I pine with grief and shame.   

I cannot will aright (but right resist)  
without thy grace prevent my crooked will:  
And, willing well, without thy grace assist,  
I cannot (for my blood) my will fulfil.   

So, thy preventing, and assisting grace  
makes my Will work: for, of myself, I am  
So frail, by nature, and so beastly base,  
that my best thoughts are more then much too blame.   

Then let thy Grace my wayward Will prevent;  
and help me to perform it, so prevented:  
Yea, make my thoughts and deeds most innocent;  
else, let me joy in nought but them lamented:  
Nay, make my Heart (dear Lord) so apt to wail  
That it may weep, when I to weep do fail.    

The Sinner desireth, not to be as he is; but, as he ought to be.  

TO be all nought, is nought at all to be;  
and to be sinful still, is to be nought:  
Yet Sinners ARE (though dead in sin) we see;  
as Men ARE, though they are not as thy ought.   

Deliver me (dear Lord) from being such;  
(such being take from me that sinful is:)  
For, better nothing be, then be so much;  
because so much is more than most amiss!   

Then let me be, not as I am; but what  
I ought to Be; or take me as I am:  
Take me to Thee, and then I will be that  
I ought to be: thine own in Deed and Name:  
For, than I am, when I am wholly thine;  
But, I am not, while I am sins or Mine.    

In respect of the brevity and uncertainty of mortal life; the Sinner desires grace, in time, to prepare for Death.  

MY stupid Soul, now recollect thy powers,  
& weigh in judgements Scales thy present state;  
Thou, in thy jail, my Flesh, but some few hours  
hast now to stay, by nature, near her date.   

My Pilgrimage is almost past; o than  
it thee behooves to look with steadfast eyes  
Towards thy Country (Home of Happy-men)  
lest, ere thou look, in straying paths thou die.   

Now faints my force, my sense impairs, my flesh  
like withered fruit now falleth with each breath:  
Some Birds o'er-aged do their youth refresh;  
but Man grown Tw●-childe is at door of death,   

The Youngman may die quickly; but the Old  
can not live long: missehaps may wrack the one;  
But nought, in Art or Nature, long can hold  
the other here; for, they are almost gone.   

Then if green years should sometimes mind the grave,  
the Grace must still, that there are with a breath;  
For, Age to Death is but the Galleyslave,  
that on a moment's flux, whafts life to death.   

To serve the World (although I able were)  
small cause have I to will it; sith it is  
The ground which nought but rankest Ills doth bear  
and where men most esteemed, are most amiss.   

I long have cultured this but flinty-field,  
which yields but Crops of Cares, Woes, wrongs, and spite;  
Yielding the more annoy the more they yield;  
whose very joys are tars that pine the sprite!   

Then, it is time to change (by heavenly Art)  
the thriftless course of so course Husbandry;  
And with Remorse to furrow up my Heart,  
melting the Clods with tears, that are too dry.   

And so to sow loves seeds that fair increase,  
to fat the Soul in virtue, till she melt  
In flames of Charity (till Faith doth cease)  
to give more taste of heavenly pleasures felt.   

And sith my Spring is spent, my Summer past,  
and to the Fall of leaf my Time arrives:  
Nay, sith his frost Time on my Head hath cast,  
I must prepare for cold that life deprives.   

My negligence hath made sins Earth (my Heart)  
to yield but poisonous Weeds of thoughts impure;  
Which do but bane my Soul, and get the start  
of Virtue, in their growth, by Customs power.   

Mean while, my flesh (with heat of youth, & blood)  
hath shrunk from cherishing their root: yet, lo,  
The Marrow of my Bones doth yield them food;  
so, though I shrink, they, through that compost, grow.   

And, as one tossed at Sea with Storms and fears  
makes little way, though much he be turmoild;  
So, he in vice, that past hath many years,  
hath had long time, but life as short, as soiled.   

For, Life is measured by the good we do,  
not days we spend; sith some, by many days,  
Get many Deaths; as some have come unto  
Eternal Life by short Life, spent with praise.   

What is a Soulless Body, but a Clod?  
and what's the Soul without her cause and life,  
But quick to Sin, and dead to Grace and God;  
Hell to itself, selfe-Hell, or Hell of strife?   

He is the Way, besides which all are wide;  
the Truth, against which all in error dwell:  
The Life, without which, all in death abide:  
in whom to be, is only to be well.   

O then (dear Lord) let me begin to live  
now, in my dying, though hard, late it be;  
Yet better late than never, to revive  
me, dead in sin, by mortifying me.   

It's hard (I grant) that after life's near spent  
in mortal Sin, immortal life t'expect:  
Yet Lord (how ever late) let me repent  
while air I breath, and do it not reject.   

Yet Love must cause remorse and hate of Sin;  
for, true contrition (which true life dorh give)  
Is caused by Love, sith we so bade have been  
t'a God so good; that died to make us live.   

Then love (my Soul) for no ends but thine END;  
By-purposes are purposelesse: for, ONE  
That knows all Hearts, Remorse doth but offend  
that is not for his Love conceived alone.   

Then, to be truly contrite, hard it is;  
sith it respects but Love, that Grace allures:  
Whereof, in but a scruple, if we miss;  
it's but Attrition, which less Grace procures.   

O Death! how sour is thy remembrance  
to him whose Soul is swollen with sweetest Sin,  
And hath thereof a feeling? I (perchance)  
have so in show; but more (much more) within!   

My Lifes-bud blasted was with heat of blood;  
the Flower then needs must fade and Fruit decay:  
Nay, leaves and Branch have perished with the Bud;  
and now the Trunk is turning into Clay.   

Lord, how shall I thus soiled with Sin, for shame  
appear before thy Glory? I (alas)  
Am but Confusion, ever out of frame;  
and was at best ere fully framed I was.   

The least of all my Sins will be (at least)  
a most severe Accuser: but, the whole  
(Equal to that which thou dost most detest)  
(with but a thought) confounds my thoughtful Soul.   

O Christ, thy Wounds, renewed by my Sin,  
still bleed to my Confusion: for, I faint  
At that which others still are strengthened in:  
so, thy all-saving blood doth me but taint.   

Sweet Christ, yet be my jesus, (though I be  
thus quite o'er-whelmed, with sins confounding flood)  
And in thy blood, I shed, still rinse thou me  
until thine Ire be quenched in thy blood.   

Yea, in thy Wounds (as jonas in the Whale)  
save me from drowning in thy doomes-profound:  
Let Mercies Beams my filth of sin exhale;  
and it dispieese, that it no more be found:  
So shall I, cast on Safeties Shore by thee,  
Still praise thy Grace for so securing me.    

The careful Soul because of the momentany condition of transitory life, desireth to wash away the filth of sin with the tears of continual penitency.  

Sigh on this moment of frail Life depends  
th'eternal weal or woe of human Breed,  
And that no means can long defer their ends,  
let Tears still feed me (Lord) till Worms I feed.   

For, Tears for Sin, doth Sin, through grace, destroy;  
(so kill their Cause) whereon who feeds shall live,  
Where they that sow in tears, shall reap in joy;  
then let my Tears me (dead in Sin) revive.   

They were they food (o Christ) that couldst not sin;  
and yet, for others sin, still weptst; then I  
That live a life that's quite overwhelmed therein,  
had need to weep till (drowned in tears) I die.   

Happy that Soul that on a Sea of Tears  
sails (in Faith's Ship, by Hope's securest Cape)  
Unto the Port of Peace; and with her bears  
Good-workes that make the Worker wrack escape.   

This World's but sorrows Sea, whereon mankind  
is tossed with Storms of Troubles, that arise  
By Envy, Malice, or Fa●es wayward wind,  
whiles Life to Death, more swift than Swallow flies.   

If, in the way, a Calm the Course prolongs,  
it holds us but to grief, resembling joy;  
While Pleasure, with her charming Syren-Songs,  
overwhelm us (in the end) in deep'st annoy.   

Twixt Silla and Charibd●s (joy and Griefs)  
frail life still floats; and wracks in Either oft;  
(Which equally to Death betrayeth Life)  
but low estate less sinks then that aloft.   

Why should we then prise worldly things so much  
which have no good, but as they us respect;  
And lightly weigh those Treasures without which  
we have no Goodness, but are mere Defect?   

Honour and Power, Health, Beauty, Strength, and Wit  
are but as Smoke, that comes from troubled fire:  
The more it grows, the less continues it;  
and, comes to nought when ●t doth highest aspire!   

To be in Prince's grace (which all desires)  
procures but Pride, which blinds our judgements sight,  
While like a siled Dove, we (Lord) aspire,  
till sovereign heat, at height, doth sink us quite.   

Then 'tis in vain, to trust in Prince's grace,  
which pleasure or their profit may procure;  
And when these fail, they straight avert their Face;  
but Lord, thy Grace is ever free as sure.   

Then let me wholly on thy Grace depend;  
yet so, as still I work it to increase;  
So, it with me shall work too, to the end;  
and, at the end, with me, shall rest in Peace:  
To which (dear Lord) vovehsafe thy Grace may go  
With my toiled Soul, that cannot rest but so:    

A short Meditation of the brevity of life; with an Incitation to make good use of the present time.  

Wouldst thou be spurred to run the way of truth?  
then, see how time doth run with thee away:  
Youth comes on Childhood; Manhood comes on Youth:  
on Manhood, Ages; and Age at Death doth stay:   

So, Time ascends and descends with such haste  
upon the Scale of Lifes-gradation,  
That lived we but to mend our misses past,  
yet death would cease our work ere half were done.  
Time-past, is gone; in it we cannot mend;  
Time-future, is uncertain; then, therein  
We are unsure our ill bents to unbend;  
the Present-time is ours, to cease to sin:  
Yet that Time ceaseth while we think thereon;  
Then, if we mend not now, now, Time is gone.    

A short meditation of Man's Misery.  

WHat was I, am I, or what shall I be?  
I was nought, am nought; and, for aught I do,  
Shall be far worse than nought! o wretched me!  
why? was I borne for nought; and worse too?   

This makes me to deplore my Day of Birth;  
(sith I was borne to so hard exigent)  
As all men do, that do enjoy the Earth;  
yet, so enjoy it, as theyare never content.   

We hold that Infant but a Prodigy  
that in his Birth doth not the World salute  
With note of Present-future misery:  
for, that's his Birthright clear and absolute.   

In Sin Original was I conceived;  
in actual Sin I live; and I may taste  
Eternal pain for that I first received;  
with that I live in now; and that is past.   

ay, in the Womb was loathsome; in the World,  
a Sack of all Corruption; in the Grave,  
A Prey of Vermine; and may thence be hurled  
to Hell: if what Sin spoils, Grace do not save.   

When I was nothing, then was I without  
Hope to be saved, or Fear condemned to be:  
Now, of the first I hope; but, more do doubt:  
and, of the last stand still in jeopardy.   

I was such, as I could not then be damned;  
but, now am such, as hardly can be saved:  
For at the first I was in cleanness framed;  
but now by me its more than most depraved.   

Erect (dear Lord) my pristrine Purity;  
correct my present Vices; and direct  
My future steps: direct them Sin to fly,  
and, to attain the Grace of thine Elect:  
So shall I praise thy Name (with them) and say:  
Blessed be HIM that so inspired my Clay.    

That our Salvation comes from God.  

LOrd, thou hast said, thou mad'st not death; them let  
that which thou mad'st not, never signiorize  
O'er me that thou hast made: but Watches set  
to keep death from me, when from Death I rise.   

If thou be sorry for my Death; then who  
shall let thy joy in giving life to me,  
If thou wilt, thou canst save me: I not so;  
I can but die, unless I live by Thee:   

For, I can will, but can perform no good;  
nor yet will good, without my Will thou move▪  
In thy goodwill then, lies my livelihood;  
and yet thou bidst me labour for thy Love!   

But, Lord, I cannot, if thou help me not;  
that's make me willing, and work with me too:  
Nor can I move a Man, but I must blot  
without thee; so, my power's but to undo.   

For, I would, sometimes, that I can; but then  
I know not what I can or would; unless  
Thou make me see (beyond my Nature's ken)  
what I should do, and it, in deed, express.   

And if I should have, with my Power and Will,  
Knowledge to guide me; yet, if that be mine,  
(Without thy Wisdom) It will wander still;  
for, all that tread true Steps, must tread in thine:  
Then (o dear Lord) do all for me; yet so,  
As I may rest with thee, and with thee go.    

A serious Meditation of the last judgement: worthy to be often minded, and repeated.  

DRead Lord, by whom all Souls are sentenced,  
when I bethink me of that dreadful Day,  
Wherein thou comest to judge the Quick and Dead,  
I faint, as falling quite, with Fear, away.   

When all this All shall be reversed, and made  
a Chaos sunk in all-devouring Flames:  
For, Vengeance shall the Universe invade;  
and, change her Fabrics though they keep their Names.   

A chill-cold Blood (still flowing from Dismay)  
fleets through my veins, when through my brains doth glide  
But e'en the naked thought of that black Day,  
wherein all Flesh shall be most strictly tried.   

When Christ upon a Throne of Suns and Stars,  
reflecting Beams against each other so,  
As Glory with herself shall seem at Wars,  
shall doom all Flesh to endless weal or woe.   

For, he shall shake the Sanctuaries of Heaven;  
and, with the shock, appear with flames of fire,  
And Millions of his Angels, to make e'en  
with good and bad; in favour, or in ire.   

Arrayed with all Eye-blinding Majesty,  
infernal Angels (his dread Throne beneath)  
Waiting, with ugly Forms, and hedious Cry,  
to execute his Doom of second Death.   

Where Hell still gapeth (greedy) to receive  
condemned Caitiffs into quenchless fire,  
Without light flaming, only but to grieve;  
and grieve, but to torment, not life expire.   

All on a flood of Fire shall (sinking) float  
to cleanse them from corruption: n'erthelesse  
The most corrupt, though scoured, without the Boat  
of Divine safety, sink in deep'st distress.   

As high as Water in the Flood did rise,  
so high, nay, higher shall this Fire ascend:  
For, it shall scour the Planets and the Skies;  
for, new must Heaven and Earth be, in the end.   

Rivers, shall parch; Founts, fail; and Mountains fade;  
not that their proper substances shall cease;  
But all the Universe shall then be made  
most pure, to last, eternally, in peace.   

The Sea, shall boil, and all her scaly Host  
therein shall seethe; and float upon her froth;  
The Earth unto this Sod, shall be the Roast;  
and Sky and Air shall baste, and burn them both.   

Then shall the heavens bright Studs, the golden Stars,  
drop from their Spheres; and shower down thick as Hail  
With flames involved, like fiery Meteors;  
for, then shall fire 'gainst Heaven and Earth prevail.   

The Sun and Moon to Blood (o wonder) grown  
boiling and broiling twixt sulphureous Wings,  
Shal'through the glowing air come whizzing down  
like to a fire-winged Ball that, flying, sings.   

The names of Heaven and Earth shall yet abide  
after their Conflagration; but, they shall  
Be changed in Qualities, and purified;  
for, both shall be much more Celestial.   

For, lo, the judge shall come with flames of fire  
in Chariots like a Whirlwind, and shall burn  
On every side, till all things do retire  
into themselves, and cleanse them in the turn!   

Our Sins have so the Elements defiled  
that they with Fire must needs refined be:  
Nay, more; our sins the Heavens themselves have soiled;  
then melt they must, from soil to set them free.   

Sin all things subject made to vanity;  
then must they be dissolved, sith in that vain  
They unrefined (that's, most unpure) do lie,  
that so they may their first pure plight obtain.   

For, if the Heavens, sin soiled, must not stand,  
much less must Man, whom filth doth overflow;  
Both must be purged before the judgement; and  
immortal made, to come to judgement so.   

The Subjects of the Highest are Saints (at least)  
if so: then Men unsanctifide are none:  
Then must a Man, in show; in deed, a Beast,  
be made a perfect Man, ere he be one.   

The Citizens of Heaven are (like the Place)  
as pure as precious: for, what enters here  
Must be as full of Glory, as of Grace,  
else down it must, with shame, another where.   

Then, in this life, how ought we mind our ends,  
sith on this life (that's counted but a span,)  
Eternity of weal or we depends,  
which ends the Race that formerly we ran.   

One Age doth go, another cometh; and both  
Time of their time, at unawares deprives;  
Man's but a Shade, a Vapour, or a Moth,  
that strait consumes the Time wherein he lives.   

Too like a Torch, whose light and lasting both  
answers his Substance; and the longest can last,  
But while the last drop of his moisture doth  
the least spark of his glory overcast.   

Flesh is but dust, made dirt, with blood transfused;  
which with a fillip, or less force is spoiled:  
And, in the Elements being eft diffused,  
lies there, like something, next to nothing, soiled.   

The World (like Ice) is slippery, brittle, cold;  
and, apt to melt, and quickly shift his Forms;  
They stand still falling whom he doth uphold;  
and who goes careless, cureless he enormes.   

What ere it holds is past; and, that's past cure:  
or Present; and, that momentary is:  
Or else it is to come; and, that's unsure:  
then all it holds are nought but fallacies.   

Yet here (o grief) fond Man seeks sure repose;  
e'en here where Nothing rests but in unrest:  
Where most men stand by others overthrows;  
and where the worst in life, in state are best.   

Where Pleasure pain foreruns; where life's the brook  
that glides into Life's Sea, all-swallowing DEATH:  
(Sweet Streams to bitter) where Hells mortal hook  
lies hid to hold, or draw us underneath.   

Like Herod's glory that's devoured of Worms;  
(our constantest companions in the end)  
Where all the smoothest Calms prove roughest storms,  
and all in all to wrack, unwares, do bend.   

Where Princes Palaces (the pride of Cost)  
are but rude Earth, which skill unperfect forms:  
Their Gold but worst Earth's Marrow, at the most;  
and, all their daintiest Silks but dung of Worms.   

Riches, but runaways; Favours, but lies;  
good words, mere wind, that lightly comes & goes:  
Where Generation to Corruption hies;  
and all is but a dream of nought but shows.   

Such as the end is, such must be the mean  
that tends thereto; Corruption is our end:  
Then, all that leads thereto, is most unclean:  
so, in uncleanness rise we, and descend.   

This makes the Heavens so oft to drown in Tears  
the Earth, defiled by our uncleanness; and  
So drowned, as dead, she bears but dearest years,  
or Ears that are as dear as is the Land.   

So, with remorse, revenge to execute;  
so, stroke and strike at once; to make us feel.  
Our dissolution, sith so dissolute,  
in love and ire, that stays and makes to reel.   

While our Life's Twine upon the heavenly Spheres  
is reeled up strait; & Time (whose turns they cause)  
Doth all o'erturne: so, Water all appears,  
which Time to cast down quickly, still up-drawes.   

Time steals away, as he would give the slip  
to all that breath; yet, in so stealing, he  
Takes all things with him (like a fraughted Ship)  
that he doth hold, when he doth (fearless) flee.   

Upon the World he steals, and, with him brings  
a world of years, wherewith the World doth wear;  
As Men can witness, and all earthly Things:  
for, now they be but moats to what they were.   

Those she produced when she was in her youth,  
were Ceders to these shrubs: for, she was then  
In her full vigour; and gave greater growth  
to all she bore; for, Giants were her Men.   

None otherwise then as a Wife in years,  
bears none so goodly Children as in youth;  
No more this World (now over-aged) bears  
such as in youth she did, for Grace nor growth.   

She Giants brought in youth; but now she ages  
she bears but Pigmies, men that scarce appear;  
Too little to be Pages to their Pages  
that first she bore; which shows her end is near.   

And so say all that strictly do observe  
Divine and human Writings, and the State  
Of all things past and present; which do serve  
for signs and demonstrations of her date.   

Within six days God made the Universe  
a thousand years with whom is but a day:  
Then it is thought such six days shall reverse  
his six days Work, that moves but, so, to stay.   

But, for th' Elect, the foot of this Account  
shall be cut off; then, now the end appears:  
For, all the passed years do near amount  
to those six days, that make so many years.   

The World's Parts are decayed (as doth appear)  
Aetna, Parnassus and Olympus too  
Are not so eminent as erst they were;  
and all that's done, seems quite now to undo.   

Now swells the Sea, where erst fair Cities stood;  
so, where Men walked, now huge Sea-monsters swim:  
And, where the Earth was covered with her Flood,  
now Cities stand, unneere the Ocean's Brim.   

Hills sunk, Floods dried, the Planets lose their force,  
and Plants their virtue; yea, the total Frame  
Of Nature's out of frame: the Sun in's course  
is out of course, with age sunk in the same:   

For, since the days of Ptolomey it's found  
many degrees more nigh the Earth he stoops:  
So, like an aged Drunkard, runneth round,  
till flat he fall: for, more and more he droops.   

The Arctic and th' Antarctic Poles shall wrack  
the Climes they cover: and the Host of Heaven  
Shall join their Forces to break Natures Back;  
and, all confuse to which was Order given.   

Th' Astrologers will have it end, when all  
the Stars possess their first place in their Spheres,  
Which Plato's year they style: the Hebrew Cabal  
will have it but endure six thousand years.   

Whereto agree Elias Oracles  
and many a sacred Saints, of times more late●  
Which Seers saw them through the Spectacles  
of Heau'n-holpe guesses, clear as most elate!   

The World shall last (say they) two thousand years  
without the Law: two thousand years within:  
Two thousand under Grace: and then appears  
the God of Grace, to clear the World of sin..   

Then thou that sleepest (my drowsy Soul) awake;  
pray, and be sober; watch, the end is near:   

sins fruit full ripe, the kernels ne'er so black,  
and justice Sun begins e'en hot t'appear.   

That there shall be a judgement general  
the most believe; heavens Oracles affirm;  
Divines aver; the Sibyls too; and all  
the ancient Poets constantly confirm.   

Then shall the Creatures shout, the Angels call,  
the Trumpets sound, and all Men, dead, arise:  
Then shall the God of JUSTICE sentence all;  
yea, be they Powers or Principalities!   

This Sentence shall be strict, and shall condemn  
the Ill to Hell, where Pain, itself, exceeds.  
(For, when it meanest is, it's most extreme)  
and where the Worm that gnaws the Conscience breeds.   

And all, for ever! Ever! that is it,  
that makes All most intolerable: for,  
It Sense confounds, with grief; distracts the Wit;  
and which self- Patience cannot but abhor.   

Which to the Atheist seems impossible,  
that Bodies so infirm, so soon destroyed,  
Should ever brook such Pains immensible,  
and not consume; yea, utterly made void.   

Whereto if it be said, th' Almighty will  
at last, raise bodies from defect so clear  
That (cleared so) they shall continue still;  
and all Hell's wasting woes, unworn, shall bear!   

Yea, Souls (though incorporeal) shall, the while,  
of true material Fire be pained still;  
How ere it makes our human Reason reel,  
yet he can do't, that can do what he will.   

For, they shall deem they in their Bodies be;  
and feel all Torments comprehensible:  
For, Souls than Bodies better feel and see  
sith by them only, Flesh is sensible.   

As when we dream, without our Bodies we;  
deem us within; sith Sense us not forsakes:  
Nay, without Ears and Eyes we hear and see,  
more lively far, then when our Sense awakes:   

So, do the damned suppose they in their Flesh▪  
do suffer; that but suffer in their Spirit,  
Sith Sense in them so li●ely is, and fresh,  
in entertaining Dolour or Delight.   

Which in the Fount of Truth doth clear appear:  
for, Dives had a Tongue that was inflamed  
As he supposed; though but his Soul it were:  
but Atheists will not know this till theyare damned.   

For, they except against Divinity,  
Religion, Faith; and only do appeal  
To Reason, Sense, and frail Humanity,  
which ne'ertheless this veiled Truth reveal.   

For proof whereof; the Salamander lies  
and lives in fire, which he desires to touch;  
Yea, most is joy de when most therein he fries;  
for, he's most cold, and cools the fire as much.   

The Adamant; yea, Gold itself, if pure,  
endures all force of fire, and ne'er doth waste:  
Shall Stones and Metals then, the Fire endure,  
and shall man's flesh refined, in Fire, not last?   

A peacocks flesh, though dead, corrupteth never;  
(try it who list) and shall it still remain,  
And Man's flesh, made by Death to last for ever,  
not last? it shall, though it still live in pain!   

Lime in itself hath fire; yet wears it not:  
and when it's killed, it's quickened; then, shall we  
Say Flesh reviv'd must waste, if still too hot,  
when Death, as from his death, from it doth flee?   

By Water that doth cool all other Heats,  
the Lime is fired; but pour some Oil thereon,  
(Though Oil feeds fire) it neither burns, nor sweats,  
but rests as cold as any other Stone!   

If then the nature of quick- Lime be such  
as Fire to hold, and yet not die with it;  
Why should not flesh immortal, do as much,  
when it's enabled by Power infinite?   

Some Salt in Sicily, cast in the fire,  
strait melts to Water; and, in Water thrown,  
Cracks like Fire: o! who can then aspire  
to know the Cause, that yet was never known?   

Th' Arcadian Asbest, being once inflamed,  
will ne'er be quenched: but, lasts an endless flame:  
Then why not those that endlessly are damned,  
being made immortal to endure the same?   

And in Epyrus is a Fount, wherein  
a Torch may lighted be, and quenched too:  
If these things are, and more, more strange have been,  
why should we think but God can stranger do?   

Before Man's fall, he could not die; for, Death  
came by his Fall: Then, cannot that high Power  
That fashioned him of nought, and gave him Breath,  
make him, remade, eternally endure?   

The Wonders which he works continually,  
are not admired, sith they familiar be:  
For, Admiration's dulled by frequency;  
else should we wonder at what still we see.   

The Face of mankind were't not uniform,  
men could not be from beasts discerned and shown:  
And yet had All, in all respects, one Form  
One from another hardly could be known.   

Thus, Likeness with great Difference rests we see,  
in one self Thing; which for such common are  
We ne'er admire them; but we muse when we  
see but two Faces like: for, that is rare!   

And at the Loadstone we do wonder less,  
that nail by nail, doth many nails uphold,  
By touching but the first; yet sith it is  
so common, we admire not; as we should.   

I might be endless in recounting such  
most strange Effects, whereof no Cause is known:  
Then were it madness not to grant as much  
Power to th' Almighty and to Nature's Crown.   

No: he hath said It, by whose only WORD  
all is that is: and All hath made of nought:  
Whose Power is Infinite; which can accord  
Repugnancies themselves, but with a Thought!   

For, there is nothing that doth argue Power,  
but he can do it: what he cannot do  
Is frail, inglorious, base, and most impure;  
else can he do it, and undo it too!   

If God's Prerogative were crushed so close  
that he no more than Man had power t'effect;  
How were he God? nay, God himself he shows  
in that his Works far pass our Intellect!   

Then, let's believe, Omnipotence can speak  
no Word it cannot do; how e'er to us  
It seems impossible: for, we are weak,  
and weakly judge of hard things to discuss.   

But, let us rest on that ne'er-failing WORD,  
nay, so put up our Rest that e'en our Souls  
Yea, all our All may thereby be assured,  
in so fair Hazard that no Chance controls.   

For, should we rest but on those restless Stays  
that Reason (betrayed by sense) erects, we shall  
But rest on that's betrayed, and betrays:  
so, in right sense and Reason, needs must fall.   

But say there were no rising after Death:  
by virtuous life, what do or can we lose,  
But spend our Time in gaining longer breath:  
for, Virtue (Life's foes) Passions doth repose?   

And if there were no Hell to punish sin,  
yet we, in Reason, should not sin; sith it  
Is so obscene; and thereby nought we win  
but selfe-condemning of our Will and Wit.   

But we that do believe we eft shall rise,  
have great advantage of the rest: for we  
Have what they have (though fewer vanities)  
and, by our faith, in case far better be.   

For, if there be another Life than this,  
wherein all weal or woe we must sustain;  
Then, by Good works, and Faith, we shall have bliss:  
but faithless men all labour for their pain.   

For, impious Atheists take more pains for Hell,  
tiring themselves with joys that vex their Spirits,  
Then pious men, still praying in their Cell,  
do take for Heaven; for, That the Spirit delights.   

Dear Lord, than so dispose my Wit and Will  
that I may rest upon thy Word, which makes  
Me blest; and work, in rest, thereafter still  
with more delight than Sense in pleasure takes.   

In sacred Raptures take my Soul to thee;  
and, her embrace with kiss of endless Peace:  
That being so familiar still with me,  
I, at thy Doom, may hopeful be through these.   

That though the horror of that day be such  
as may all Sense confound with fear, past fear;  
Yet may I hope (though yet I fear too much)  
thou wilt not damn him whom thou heldst so dear.   

Mean while, so bind my Sense with virtues bands,  
that it may never move, but as she shall  
Lose or restrain it; or, thy sacred Hands;  
all whose restraints are free from pain, or fall!   

And let that Trump (as with a Saint it did)  
still in the Organ of my hearing sound  
That shall to judgement call both quick and dead;  
that so Ieuer may be ready found.   

For, yet I do but dote on false Delights,  
Delights? alas! that style they ill sustain,  
Though false be added: for, they vex the Spirits  
of all that taste them: so they are but pain.   

Uncharm the Charms then, of these grievous joys,  
that still allure my sense of them to taste;  
And let my pleasure be in all annoys,  
for, thy dear Love, until I breathe my last.   

For, were I here to live as many a year,  
as years have moments in extreme annoy;  
Yet it unworthy of heavens glory were,  
sith it is infinite in time, and joy.   

But now, by Nature (though it should extend  
my life beyond my life) I cannot last,  
Longer than one that's making now his end:  
for, my best part of life, long since, is past.   

My best (said I) o sname! if so it were,  
I should despair; or, if I did not so,  
I should be frantic with distracting fear,  
that my best time in madness did bestow.   

But Thou that of the worst canst make the best,  
make this my worst time best; my later Age  
Make better than my first: for, I detest  
to think on That so fond, so full of rage.   

Let me relapse no more, in word, nor deed,  
Relaspses more do vex me then my sin:  
And yet my sins still make my Conscience bleed:  
but my Relapses rankle still therein.   

Relapse in sickness, fleshes death doth threat;  
Relapse in Heresy, the death of Spirit;  
In Error, it makes falsehood hugely great;  
and so in sin it makes it infinite!   

In Grace (sweet Saviour) there is never stay,  
a Progress or a Regress still there is:  
But from a Regress let me ever stray,  
although thereby I go about to bliss.   

What boots it me to day to fight with sins,  
if I to morrow follow Satan's Flag?  
It is th'unwearied fighter glory wins;  
the weary, but base Baggage and the Bag.   

Then let the dreadful day of mine Accounts  
be so annexed unto my Heart and Brain,  
As if they were one Essence, and the founts  
of tears (mine Eyes) still far out-flow the Main!   

And fix mine Eyes still on my Mother Earth,  
to mind from whence I came, and where I must.  
Or else on Heaven (from whence my Soul had birth)  
but look on no mean Things for them to lust,   

Although such Continence be not without  
their outward spite, that Virtue inly Hate:  
For, when we first, to live well, go about,  
weare crossed and recrost by the Reprobate.   

As thy dear Servant (walking on the Main,  
upon thy bidding) fainted (when he saw  
A sudden Gust make rough th' Ocean's Plain)  
invokt thy help, near sinking through that Flaw.   

So, in this World, a Sea of woes and spite,  
thou bidst us come to thee; but as we hie,  
Huge Storms of troubles threat to sink us quite;  
then help we crave, with fear, at point to die.   

Yet Constant Lord, let me no more relapse,  
no more, no more, once more would kill me quite;  
Rather then so, let thy fierce Thunderclaps  
dash me to dust, so thou receive my spirit:  
But let my spirit how e'er I die (dear Lord)  
Wade through thy deepest judgements on thy Word.    

The Sinner acknowledges and admires his own frailty: desiring Grace and strength to stand in V●rtue, and withstand Vice.  

AFfliction still lies heavy on my Soul,  
which makes her stupid, dry, and dull to pray;  
Then (Lord) unless thou do her power control,  
she needs must sink to Hell beneath her sway.   

O Sin (that with high Hand dost hurl so low)  
thou art sole Cause of his so bad Effect:  
Thou NOTHING, that dost all things overthrow  
not stayed by Grace, why dost me thus deject?   

O had I been abortive, and dead borne;  
or, if not so, the Font had rest my breath:  
Then had I made a quick and safe return,  
that now must pass in peril to my death!   

I can but sin, than justice can but scourge;  
so, Sin and Scourges, wheeling, o'er me go:  
Yea, Sin being quiet, I it oft do urge;  
so, on me, with it, pull a World of woe.   

Lord! what am I, that am so rarely frail?  
that can do nothing: that is, sin I can:  
For, Sin is Nothing; yet, it doth prevail  
against me, Something: that is, mars a Man!   

When I do mind the strange Austerity,  
familiar with some (reclused from this life)  
The watching, praying, fasting, charity,  
the fights with Flesh, with Sin, the endless strife,   

I am amazed with wonder; grieved with shame;  
nay, weighing theirs with mine, my conscience bleeds  
To see the odds: o fie, I am to blame,  
to call it odds, sith it all odds exceeds!   

For white and black do far less disagree  
then theirs and mine: mine being, lighty, dark;  
Theirs, darkly, light; and lights the dark to see:  
notorious I, for sin; they, Saints of mark.   

So that I am confounded but to mind  
the odds (surmounting odds) between the two:  
For, in myself, with Pride, all ill I find;  
in them all good, and yet most humble too.   

Then, sith Comparisons are but too blame  
between things so repugnant (for, they do  
But show the odds unto the worsers shame)  
I will forbear, and bear the blemish too.   

For, all reproach (though infinite it were)  
comes short of endless sin, in foul offence:  
Then, may I well that All (as nothing) bear,  
which Centres but my sins Circumference!   

For, weak as frailty is my strongest force  
in fight with vices, and in ghostly wars:  
At best no better than a living Corpse;  
and that the Urn that but my Soul interres!   

I fight, but faint, the first Encounter trying;  
yet, oft by standing on my strength too much  
I quite am foiled, that might have foiled by flying;  
such is my rashness, and my weakness such.   

If I over come, (as seldom so I do)  
my spirit grows proud, and confident withal:  
So this far worse than that doth me undo;  
for spiritual pride still takes the lowest fall.   

But, when I fall, thy help (Lord) I invoke,  
to raise me: raised, I fall to worse ill:  
So seem but leave to crave, (though it I cloak)  
but still to fall, and to be raised still.   

But to thee (knower of all thoughts) it's known  
such Bones are sins that beg but leave to sin:  
My Bones no better be; for, being down,  
I crave to rise by Grace, to fall therein.   

And though my Prayers aim at no such end,  
yet, in the end (sith I but rise and fall)  
It seems I did but by the same intend  
to make myself thy Mercies Racket-ball.   

Which falling hardest, highest doth rebound;  
but, to do ill, that good thereof might rise,  
Is Ill, so ill, as may the Soul confound;  
then, all that good in Soule-confounding, lies.   

To sin of purpose, but to make us meek,  
augments the fault; for, 'tis presumptuous Sin:  
And who, by Error, Heavenly Truth shall seek,  
shall lose her quite, and Hell, with Error, win.   

Then, Lord of Truth, when I have ta'en a fall,  
let me desire to rise, to fall no more:  
So though thou bandy me from wall to wall,  
yet, keep me up, at least, with beating sore.   

And, if, by weakness, I shall sometimes slip,  
so stay me then, that down I fall not quite:  
Let me, at most (if so at least) but trip;  
then, take the faster footing through thy might.  
So shall I praise that Power that stays me so;  
And, ever overcome an Overthrow.     

THE DOLEFUL DOVE: OR, David's 7. Penitential Psalms; somewhere paraphrastically turned into Verse.  

Domine ne in furore. Psal. 6.  
When David by his sins had provoked God's wrath; and now felt, not only his hand against him, but also conceiveth the horrors of death everlasting, he desireth fornesse, bewailing that if God took him away in his indignation, he shall lack occasion to praise him as he was wont to do, whiles he was among men. Then, suddenly feeling God's mercy, he sharply rebuketh his enemies, which rejoiced in his affliction.  

IN thy just rage (dear Lord) reprove me not:  
(for, just it is, sith so unjust I am)  
Nor chasten me when thy fierce Wrath is hot,  
lest I should be extinguished yer the Flame.   

Let thy strong Grace against my Weakness stand;  
(thy Grace so strong, as it upholdeth All)  
And heal me (Lord) with thine all-helping Hand:  
for, e'en my bones are bruised with my fall.   

My soul's afflicted more than griefs afflict:  
(for griefs but pine; but this doth quite undo)  
Then Lord, how long shall I (a poor Relict)  
endure these plagues, that pain and pine me too?   

O turn thy now averted Face, to me  
(to me that fades as flowers for want of Sun)  
And let my Soul be safe, and saved by thee,  
through Grace, that hath to thee most glory won:   

For Death's fell torments are so violent,  
that they constrain the Sense to mind but them:  
Who then in Hell, through hellish discontent,  
can once but mind thee, in such pains extreme?   

My sorrow hath my Soul so overfed,  
that it converts mine Eyes to founts of Tears:  
For, every night in tears I rinse my Bed,  
and drown my Couch in streams of griefs & fears.   

Mine Eyes are so overcast with clouds of Cares,  
that they see nought, but through those Water-streames:  
My beauty's gone, while I away do wear,  
among my Foes, and these confused extremes.   

But yet I feel thy Grace (Lord) work with me:  
then leave me, leave me, ye too idle Crew,  
That yet still work, but work iniquity;  
for, God hath seen my Tears, and heard me rue.   

You are my Foes, that (yet) would seem my friends;  
but Foe-like friends, and all mine enemies  
God will cut off by divers fearful ends;  
and soon confound you, and your Treacheries.   

To God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,  
three Persons, and one God; all glory be;  
As it was, is, and shallbe in each Coast,  
throughout all worlds in all eternity.    

Beati quorum. Psal. 32.  
David punished with grievous sickness for his sins, counteth them blessed, to whom God doth not impute their transgressions. And, after that he had confessed his sins and obtained pardon, he exhorteth the wicked men to live godly; and the good to rejoice.  

MOst blessed are they (how ever cursed they be)  
whose Crimes out of God's Notebook clean are crossed;  
Whose sins are covered so with Clemency,  
that they are hid; so, seem they to be lost.   

And blest is he to whom the God of Grace  
imputes no Sin; (for, so he shall be clear  
How e'er defiled) and in whose spirit no base  
deceit, shall once so much as but appear.   

For, while I held my peace (that caused my War;  
for Death with Silence in such passion strives)  
My body's Props (my Bones) consumed are  
while all the day I groan in Sorrows Gives.   

For, day and night thy Hand (great God) doth lie  
like Lead upon my weakness: who have been  
Converted into self- Calamity,  
whiles the Thorn pricked me (or, my stinging sin)   

But, lo, my faults to thee I have revealed,  
& have not clockt my crimes, which thou dost hide:  
But I confess those Sins, thou hast concealed  
sith my misdeeds shall (so) be justified.   

Thus shall each pious person pray to thee  
in fitting time (yer Mercies Gate be sparred)  
But when the Inundations swelling be  
of many Waters they from Him are barred.   

My fence (o Lord) lies only in thy Hands,  
when troubles me assail with fiercest woe:  
Then o preserve me from the impious Bands  
that me enclose, in death to close me so.   

I will sayst thou (dear Sweet) instruct thee still,  
and guide thee in thy way (o homed Words)  
Thine Eye (thou sayst) shall me defend from ill,  
and watch to guard me from my foe-men's Swords.   

Then be, o be not like an Horse or Mule,  
that are as rude as unintelligent:  
Lord, bridle them, thy Snafle will not rule,  
till they be ruled, or else be made repent.   

The Plagues are great (most great) and manifold,  
that do the Sinner evermore attend;  
But who with Hands o● Hope on God lays hold,  
his boundless Mercy him will comprehend.   

In Him therefore (ye Righteous) still be glad;  
(for, he in Grief still glads the righteous Soul)  
Exult all ye, that for your Sins are sad;  
and all true Hearts, that stoup to his control.   

To God the Father glory be therefore,  
and to the Son, and their coequal Spirit,  
As it was, is, and shall be evermore  
World without end: for, they are infinite!    

Domine ne in furore. Psal. 38.  
David lying sick of some grievous disease; acknowledgeth himself to be chastised of God for his sins, and therefore prayeth God to turn away his wrath. He uttereth the greatness of his griefs by many words and circumstances: as, wounded with the arrows of God's ire, forsaken of his friends, ●uill entreated of his enemies. But in the end, with firm confidence he commendeth his cause to God, and hopeth for speedy help at his hand.  

LOrd check me not, until thy rage be past,  
nor chastise me in thine incensed ●re;  
For, in my Flesh thy Shafts are fixed fast;  
and thy Hand quells me, that would fain aspire.   

Thy Wrath hath filled my Flesh with all annoy,  
(for, sin's the sore; the salve, sore-sicknesse is:)  
And, in my bones I can no rest enjoy,  
because their Marrow them hath moved amiss.   

For mine ambitious Sins climb o'er my Head,  
and, as a breakneck Burden, me oppress:  
My wounds (which they have made) with filth are fed,  
and rankled sore, through my worse foolishness.   

I am made crooked underneath this load,  
deformed, and wretched; yea, it breaks my back:  
So, all the day with grief I make abode,  
or mourning go, as those that comfort lacke.   

For, (ah) my joins, that lodged but Sin before,  
now harbour nought but restless Malady:  
No health is in my flesh; for, all is sore:  
so sore that anguish makes me (roaring) cry.   

But, Lord, thou knowst the Sum of my desires,  
because my Plaints still tell it in thine ears;  
My Heart is vexed, my strength from me retires;  
nay, more, mine Eyes are blinded with my tears.   

My friends (in show, when thou didst favour me)  
like foes (in deed) now me (poor me) withstand:  
Nay, those, in blood that were my nearest, be  
now furthest off; and lend nor heart nor hand.   

And they that seek my life, lay Traps to take  
that life; or (at the least) me to undo:  
And but of guile and spoil they ever speak;  
and put in practice what they speak of too.   

But I (poor I) as deaf, would nothing hear:  
(for poor Souls must not hear what must offend)  
And, as one dumb, I still myself did bear,  
that gave no more reproofs than ear did lend.   

Yet is my hope in thee that hearest all  
my sighs and groans, sith they increase for sin.  
Then let mine Enemies ne'er see my fall;  
who, when I do but trip, triumph therein.   

I am at point to perish; and my Woes  
and cause thereof, I ever bear in mind:  
For, I, with grief, confess mine overthrows,  
that lost thy Grace, which now I seek to find,   

But, still my Foes do live, and strong are made,  
strong in their friends, their places, purse and arms,  
And they that hate me (causeless) and invade  
me (forceless) many be; the more my harms.   

They (monsters) likewise, that do ill for good  
oppose me still, sith goodness I ensue:  
Then, haste thee (Lord) to help me (so withstood)  
and leave me not among this cursed crew.   

To God the Father (which we do adore)  
and to the Son, and to their blessed Spirit,  
All glory be, as it was heretofore,  
is and still shall be through World's infinite.    

Miserere mei Deus. Psal. 51.  
When David was rebuked by the Prophet Nathan for his great offences, he did not only acknowledge the same to God, with protestation of his natural corruption and iniquity, but also left a memorial thereof to his posterity Therefore first he desireth God to forgive his sins, and to renew in him his holy Spirit; with promise that he will not be unmindful of those great graces. Finally, fearing lest God would punish the whole Church for his fault, he requireth that he would rather increase his graces toward the same.  

GReat God of Gods (whose Mercy is as great)  
have mercy on me (wretch) whose Sin exceeds;  
Yet after thy compassion so complete,  
wash out the blots of my too foul misdeeds.   

O cleanse me from the filth of mine offence,  
that rankles in my Conscience, all defiled  
With all that may deprave both Soul and Sense;  
that (purged) I may to thee be reconciled:   

For, I acknowledge mine iniquity,  
sith still my sin's the object of my sight;  
And, by the power of mine impiety,  
I wrong thy grace and still impugn thy Spirit.   

Against thee only I in sin abide,  
and done what doth condemn me in thy sight;  
That in thy Words thou mayst be justified,  
and overcome when thou art judged unright.   

For, nought but wickedness prepared the way  
to my conception; which to worse did pass:  
Then, ere I was, I stood at sinful stay;  
and, when I fell to Being, worse was.   

This (Lord) is true; confessing which, doth move  
thy Grace to me thy Wisdom (hid) to show:  
Then sprinkle me with Isop, in thy Love;  
and so, I shall be whiter far; than Snow.   

Unto mine Ears (enured but to hear  
what Ears corrupts) thou shalt but joy object:  
So shall the bones, which by thee broken were,  
rejoice; and, sin, wherein it joyed, reject.   

O then from my foul sins thy Face avert;  
and wash me from the filth they cast on me;  
In me create an undefiled Heart,  
with such a spirit as may be just to thee.   

And cast me not, o cast me not away  
out of the Way still brightened by thy beams;  
Nor, from me take thy Spirit, my Guide and Stay,  
in hardest passages of all Extremes.   

Restore to me the gladness of thy bliss;  
and, with thy chiefest Spirit, still strengthen me;  
Then those I'll teach that now thy ways do miss:  
so, Sinners shall converted be to thee.   

Save me from blood, that vengeance doth implore;  
so shall my Tongue thy justice highly raise:  
But more thy Mercy, sith it glads me more.  
Then, open my Lips, and they shall show thy praise.   

Hadst thou desired Sacrifice, I had  
offered it to thee; but, thou tak'st delight  
In no burnt Offerings; but, art ever glad  
to take the Offer of a contrite Spirit.   

A Broken Heart, with sorrow but for Sin,  
thou wilt, nor canst thou, for thy Word, despise;  
Then, let mine, broken so, thy Mercy win;  
and, from it still avert thine Angers Eyes.   

With Zion, o deal gently; that the Walls  
of razed jerusalem rebuilt may be;  
And still withstand Hell's fiery darts, and Balls,  
to keep thy Foes out, only but for thee.   

Then shalt thou take the Sacrifice in gree,  
of justice in thy Mercy; then, shall they  
Offer Oblations still in flames to thee;  
and Calves upon thine holy Altar lay.   

To God the Father, praise and glory be;  
and to the Son, and to their blessed Spirit;  
(A Trinity in strictest Unity)  
as it was, is, and shall be infinite.    

Domine exaudi. Psal. 102.  
It seemeth that this Prayer was appointed to the faithful to pray in the Captivity of Babylon. A Consolation for the building of the Church: whereof followeth the praise of God to be published unto all Posterity. The Conversion of the Gentiles: and, the stability of the Church.  

ATtend my Prayer (Lord) and let my Cry  
ascend to thee, from whom all grace descends.  
From my distress turn not thy Mercies Eye,  
but bow thine Ear to me, that downward bends.   

When e'er I call, make answer; for, my days  
like Vapour vanish; and, my parched bones  
Wax weak and dry, as is the flame that plays  
about the Snuff, at point to quench at ones.   

thoust smitten me (as Grass by Lightning smit)  
so that my Heart is withered quite away:  
And through my grief, for that, I further it:  
for, I forget to eat, for Nature's stay.   

And through my groaning voice, my bones, that burn,  
to my consuming flesh, will hardly cleave:  
And, like a Pelican alone, I mourn:  
or, like an Owl I live, while life I leave.   

I wear out Time in strictest vigilance,  
and, as a Sparrow, on the Houses Crest,  
I sit alone; to mind my sins mischance:  
so (idly) resting in the most unrest.   

The while my Foes (backbiting) me revile;  
yea, he that praised me, against me swears:  
But I, as Bread, did Ashes eat the while;  
and still my Drink did mingle with my Tears.   

Because thy Wrath grew hot against my sin:  
for, thou hast raised me up, to cast me down:  
My days are past, as if they ne'er had been;  
and (like Hay withered) I from thee am mown.   

But thou (immortal Spirit) dost still endure;  
and thy Memorial ever lasts in prime:  
Thou shalt arise, and down thy Mercies pour  
(by showers) on Zion, in this promised time.   

For, e'en the Stones of that fair Edifice  
delight thy Servants; and her sacred Ground  
They pity, as they do her prejudice,  
which with the sharpest grief their hearts doth wound.   

So shall the Heathen fear thine awful NAME;  
and, all the Kings on Earth thy glory fear:  
For, Zions Fabric thou dost still re-frame,  
and in thy fullest Glory shalt appear.   

Our Lord the prayers of the meek approves,  
and not dispie their Suits, in wretched case:  
So future times to write this, this doth move,  
that Babes unborn, may praise this God of Grace.   

Who, from his high as holy Place, doth vail  
his Eyes to Earth (whereon they still remain)  
To hear poor Captives plaints, and such as wail;  
and, lose the Sons of them (unjustly) slain.   

That they in Zion should divulge his NAME;  
and in jerusalem his earned Praise:  
Yea, in th' Assemblies celebrate the same,  
when Kings consorted, sing sweet Zion's Lays.   

He, in the way of his great power and grace,  
●hath answered them: but, show (Lord) show to me,  
How long or short shall be my mortal Race;  
that so, for thee, I still may ready be.   

And take me not, o take me not away,  
(at unawares) yer half my Days be done:  
As for thy years they stand still at a stay;  
but mine more swift than thought away do run.   

In the Beginning, thou the Earth didst found,  
the highest Heavens thy glorious Hands did rear:  
But they shall perish; thou, continue sound  
while they wax old, and like a Garment wear.   

And, as a Vesture, thou shalt change their Frame,  
and they shall changed be; but thou, alone  
Dost still continue One, and aye the same:  
whose years remain the same, and ever One!   

Thy servants sons inhabit shall the Land,  
their seed shall be directed in thy Ways:  
And while they walk therein, they fixed shall stand  
in Heaven and Earth to celebrate thy praise.   

To God the Father then, all glory be;  
t'his Son, and to their Spirit, which we adore;  
(Coequal in their Essence and Degree)  
as it was, is, and shall be evermore.    

De profundis clamavi. Psal. 130.  
The people of God, from their bottomless misery, do cry unto God, and are heard. They confess their sins, and fly unto God's mercy.  

FRom depth of Grief (wherein my Soul doth lie)  
I do and will (dear Lord) still call on thee:  
Then, let thine ears attend mine inward Cry,  
and, listen to my Prayers, and to me.   

If thou frail Flesh wilt call to strict account,  
what flesh and blood then, in thy sight shall stand?  
But Mercy is with thee, as in the Fount:  
then, I expect thy Mercies Helping-hand.   

My Soul upon the Faith, which thou hast plight,  
hath ever stayed; and still doth hope in thee;  
Then from the Morning-watch, till that of Night,  
let Israel still rely on Thee with me.   

For, with this God of Glory and of Grace,  
is Grace as much as Glory; and, therein  
He will redeem the sad in sinful Case;  
with his true Israel, from all their sin.   

To God the Father (which we do adore)  
and to the Son, and to their blessed Spirit,  
All glory be, as it was heretofore,  
is, and still shall be through World's infinite.    

Domine exaudi. Psal. 143.  
An earnest Prayer for remission of sins, acknowledging that the enemies did thus cruelly persecute him by God's just judgement. He desireth to be restored to grace. To be governed by his holy Spirit, that he may spend the remnant of his life in the true fear and service of God.  

LOrd hear my prayer with thine all-hearing ears;  
and, for thy truth's sake, note mine humble suit:  
O hear me in thy Righteousness, which hears  
All those that mourn, although they still be mute.   

And into judgement enter not (O Lord)  
with me, frail man: for I, nor none beside,  
(Because of sin which we have all incurred)  
in thy clear sight shall then be justified.   

For, th' enemy (the Fiend, our common Foe)  
hath long pursued my Soul (that flesh misled)  
My Life in Earth, his Fury hath brought low;  
and hid the same in darkness, with the dead.   

My Spirit (therefore) is vexed, my Mind, and Heart  
are greatly troubled; yet, I minded still  
Thy days of old (thy Works and thy Desert)  
which did my Muse with joy and Wonder fill.   

My hands to thee have still outstretched been,  
my Soul (that thirsts (as earth that water wants)  
For drops of grace, to quench her flames of sin)  
I lift to thee, the while, for grace she pants.   

Then (kindest Lord) with speed attend my cries;  
because my fainting spirit hath failed me:  
Avert not from me thy converting Eyes,  
lest I be like to those that burying be.   

And in the dawning of the longed-for Day,  
(the Day when justice Son shall Comfort give)  
Let me the voice of mercy hear, I pray;  
sith still I hope that thou wilt me relieve.   

And sith so many Heads, so many Ways  
are said to lead to thee, by Heads of Sects;  
Show me the Way that strait to thee conveys,  
sith my poor Soul both thee and it affects.   

And from my Foes preserve me (weakling) still:  
to thee alone I fly in all distress:  
Then teach me to perform thy blessed Will:  
for thou art only all my blessedness.   

Thy Spirit that cannot err, nor yet deceive,  
shall bring me to the Land that justice bears:  
And, for thy Names sake thou shalt me receive,  
according to thy grace (that never wears.)   

From Trouble thou shalt bring my Soul to rest;  
and, through thy Mercy shalt destroy my Foes:  
Yea, all annoy that do my Soul molest,  
sith as thy Servant, I on thee repose.   

To God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,  
three Persons, and one God; all glory be;  
As it was, is, and shallbe in each Coast,  
throughout all worlds in all eternity.    
FINIS.   

RIGHTS OF THE LIVING, AND THE DEAD: Being, A proper Appendix to the precedent Meditations.   

OBIT-RIGHTS.  

A Funeral Elegy, on the death of the most virtuous, and no less lovely, Mirs Elizabeth Dutton; eldest Daughter of the Worthy, and generally beloved Sir Thomas Egerton Knight, eldest Son to the right Honourable, Thomas, Lord Elesmere, Lord Chancellor of England: which Elizabeth was, at the age of eleven years, married to john Dutton, of the age of fifteen years, Son and Heir of Thomas Dutton, of Dutton, in the County of Chester Esquire: which john, deceased about the age of seventeen years, and left the said Elizabeth a Virgin-Widow: who so lived till she died the first of October, at the age of six teen years and a half, in Anno 1611.  
A Virgin, Wife, and Widow, three that One  
Held rarely perfect in like Union,  
Incites my Muse; nay, more, doth her constrain  
To empt my Pen of Praise, of Wit my Brain  
In her deserved honour: she whose all  
Was nought but good; yet so, as we may call  
That good but nought (and justly) if the same  
Give not her goodness glory more than fame!  
A Maid, in whom Virginity gave place  
(Though most exact) to Modesty and Grace.  
A Wife (who like old Joseph's blessed Bride)  
Though wedded, but unbedded till she died,  
Yet from her came, on her by Grace begot,  
Faith, Fear and Duty, in a True-love knot,  
Till his decease, to whom these three she bore:  
And after, for him, nursed them still with care.  
She lived a Widow; but 'twas hard to know  
Whether she lived or died when she was so:  
Sith when she lost her Fere, she lost her Breath;  
For, Turtle-like, she mourned and drooped to death.  
But while 'twas losing she such Patience wan  
(By his Death mortified) as she began  
(Before her end) her Heaven on Earth thereby,  
In hope to live with Him when Life should die.  
So, in her Patience, she her Soul possessed  
Her God; in whom her Soul, with his, did rest;  
Yet rested so, that still (unseen) she moved  
to both devoutly, whom so much she loved!  
Poet's can shape of things that grace forsakes  
far rarer things than grace or nature makes.  
But let all Poets all their Art unite  
To fable praise, the moral is her right.  
Nature profusely had on her bestowed  
(Borrowing of grace) more grace than e'er she owed!  
And grace (as envying Nature's Gifts, so rare)  
Unlocked the Heavens where all her Treasures are,  
And showered them down so on this dearest Maid,  
As she for worth, an Angel should have weighed.  
Wit for her worth can ne'er hypberbolise;  
Much less a Poet in it Poetize;  
Sith what or Wit or Poetry can praise  
(With their best Art) was found in her: then raise  
Her up my Muse, ere she be raised, at last;  
And her enthrone in glory high as fast:  
That when the Virgin, whom all Virgins bless.,  
Shall, for her graces, see her gloriousness  
In Heaven and Earth, she may (as worthy her)  
Enbozome her, or fix her in a Star,  
Whose Name and Fame while mortal Virgins live,  
To them, with hers, may Light and Virtue give!  
For this, her Soul still laboured to be gone,  
T'returne her Errand of Creation:  
As fiery Matter working in a Cloud  
Breaks through, for want of Matter it to shroud:  
So Souls, with stirring much, are said to fire  
The best Complexions; and (so) home retire.  
But, Sickness (ah too sweet-lipt) sucked her Blood,  
That she had none to fire in likelihood:  
And so her vitall-flame, unnourished;  
Her Soul through coldness, left her body dead.  
A short life made her Virgin, Widow, Wife,  
But, well she l●u'd, which is the Well of life.  
This old World was unworthy such a gem,  
Therefore she shines in new jerusalem!  
I best can witness how her time she spent,  
Who taught her hand to show her heart's intent:  
Then may I best renown (for known desert)  
The Pupil of my Hand that had my Heart.  
Thou hadst my Heart (dear Pupil) sith in thee  
Was all that might entirely master me.  
And did my Power but equal half my Will,  
Laura should be thy Foil: for, I (by skill)  
Would set thee so above her, that thy light  
(With poignant Beams) should thrust through Earth and Night:  
For, when Formosity and Virtue strive  
In one sole Subject for Prerogative,  
That subjects praise must reign (all Terms above)  
In height of Glory, Memory, and Love!  
The Grandsire of thy Flesh in Earth's renowned;  
And thy spirits Grandsire King of Heaven is crowned:  
Thou living, then, as coming from such Sires,  
Our Songs must answer the Celestial Quires,  
That chant the praise of Virtue in their King,  
In whom thou art, than we on earth must sing  
Thy praise in his, sith his all praise contains:  
So thine in his. eternal glory gains!  
To thee then sing I, as I sing of Thee,  
Who art sole Base of this high Harmony:  
For, knowing Tombs have ends as well as wastes,  
And that strong Rhyme their ruin far outlasts,  
My Muse shall labour on this ground of Fame,  
To raise a Pile of Rhyme, whereon thy Name  
Shall ever shine, through Wits Celestial Plashes,  
Until another Phoenix of the Ashes  
Produced be; that when it eft shall burn  
In those eternal flames, it eft may turn  
To pristine plight; and by such alteration,  
Live Phoenixlike (still bright) in admiration! 3  
We wail their want whose lives our wants supplied,  
Not weighing how they lived, but when they died:  
For, the best livers here, do living die;  
But after death they live immortally.  
Children and Fools are angry still with those  
That, to distill, disleave the fairest Rose;  
Not pondering how the sweetness in the juice  
Is so increased, and longer lasts for use:  
So, we that see this Rose (whose hue and breath  
Celestial were) divided so by Death,  
Though it for heavenly purposes be done,  
Yet still our thoughts but on the spoil do run.  
But o be't far from us, to think thee spoiled  
In living blest, and dying so unsoiled:  
No: we thy Memory will celebrate;  
Whose weal we wail not, but rejoice thereat.  
If in this Paper Monument there be  
One Ornament of Art that's worthy thee,  
Or any Work of Wit that may retain  
Thy Memory; my Labour for my Pain  
Is too great Meede; sith by the same I show  
Times future, what will better them to know.  
So, shall I in thy Praise include mine own;  
And making thee so known still, still be known:  
For, if this Shrine chance to be visited  
By any, that regard the worthy dead,  
It may be they will think me worthy Love,  
That on this Pile did all my cunning prove.  
Th' Egyptians with their Pirameds' did strive  
(Against the Heavens) to keep such, dead, alive:  
And Artemisia with a matchless Tomb  
Makes her Mausolus live until the doom:  
Though It be now demolished and gone;  
Yet is he known by It, as It was known.  
And Wit, but with mere Words, hath often raised  
A Monument of Praise, far longer praised.  
Then may this Work, which but weak words erect,  
(Upon so sure a Ground) work like effect.  
The Name of Egerton she doth renown;  
And 
* Dutton.  that by which she last of all was known:  
Nay, had she had, by Fortune, all the Names  
That Wit for Nature's vilest Creatures frames,  
she'd so much Grace consorting still her Blood  
As to have made them all as great as good!  
The Days of old did lay their Macchabes  
Under Worlds-wonders, huge Pyramids!  
Semiramis, in her bright Polymite:  
And Cyrus, in his Obelisk as bright.  
In his Columna they Augustus shut:  
And in his Mole-magno, Hadrian put.  
Alaricus, the Gothe that ruined Rome,  
In his rich Rubico they did entomb.  
Those, dead, yet lived by these: and these again,  
Live yet by those, though nought of them remain!  
But, were I able, I my Saint would shrine  
Within the mouths of Angels most divine;  
Sith they outlast all Worlds, that Time doth end,  
And have (of creatures) best mouths to commend!  
But live (sweet Saint) in mine immortal Rhyme  
(Made by thy virtue such) past Tombs and Time:  
For, if eternal Virtue cannot die,  
Then thou must live, till She doth ruined lie.  
Farewell, dear Maid (whose body (like a soul)  
Had power t'inflame the Love it did control)  
Farewell while we, by thy dear loss fare ill;  
That is; while griefs do grow the Heart to fill:  
For she that held all Hearts (by her deserts)  
To her entire, her Death must break all Hearts.  
Ye Ladies (that (alive) do inly love  
So much overweening that doth mortal prove)  
Look not askew, nor turn the Head aside  
(As if you could no Praise but yours abide)  
At these just Praises (Relics of the Dead)  
But learn by them to be so honoured.  
,, Envy doth leave the Envied at the Grave;  
That Fort from Envy should the Virtuous save:  
Then (o) exalt these laud's, unless you will  
Be rather pitied, then envied still.  
Poets (I grant) have liberty to give  
More height to Grace, than the Superlative:  
So hath a Painter licence too, to paint  
A Saintlike face, till it the Saint out saint.  
But Truth (which now mine Art to shadow strives)  
Makes licence larger by the grace she gives.  
But yet,  
To say thou wast the Form, (that is the soul)  
Of all this All; I should thee misenroule  
In Book of Life; which (on the Earth) they keep  
That of Arts fountains have carowsed deep,  
Nay, so I should displease and wrong thee both:  
For, unjust praise thou canst not choose but loath,  
That lothed'st it here; then there, more (past compare)  
For, he's the Soul of All by whom they are.  
But I may say, (and none the same gainsays)  
Thou art the soul of this thy World of Praise!  
Whose soul did animate thy small-world too  
To be the soul of all that here I do.  
Oft have I seen thee, (nay I see thee yet,  
Whose face and manners I shall ne'er forget)  
When as thine ears had heard, or eyes had seen  
Aught that to Virtue had offensive been,  
Thy face and breast with that fair blush overflow  
Which Modesty (not Bashfulness) doth owe.  
In these bold Times it's held a Trick too fresh  
Of unbred Indians, so to paint the flesh  
For any cause: but, this is but th' effect  
Of Impudence, the Time's souls chief affect.  
No Parts (i● laudable) at Court required,  
But they attired thee in thy state retired:  
Yet thou so modestly didst act them still  
As that the lightest seemed grave against their will!  
What shall I say? in thee was nought so small  
That was not greatly praised and loved of All!  
This shows thy Mother true unto thy Sire,  
Whose worths, in love, set all the World on fire!  
Thou, his true Daughter, likewise dost the same,  
While thou goest through Oblivion by the flame!  
The Soul a twofold action hath; that is,  
Original, and Instrumental; this  
By Nature doth the like produce; but that  
(Mere Intellectual) doth not generate.  
Though Nature yet, could not so high aspire,  
Thou, in thy spirit, wast like thine honoured Sire  
By special grace of Heaven; for, in your Birth  
Such Planets met, as decked and joyed the Earth.  
But o! too soon the earth quite lost that joy;  
And in that loss found infinite Annoy.  
Such is the stayless state of Things below,  
That do but vanish while they seem to grow!  
Beneath the Moon, all is but like the Moon,  
Constant in nothing but in changing soon:  
And so will be while they remain beneath;  
Resting from changing only but in Death:  
As when the Whirlwinds (in their wheeling play)  
Pursue their Turns, till, in their Centre, they  
Return into themselves: so, Nature goes  
On in her Course (which first from form arose)  
Until this World of form be dispossessed,  
And Nature in the Chaos, takes her rest.  
That Time runs round, by this dark Riddle's bright;  
A Father hath twelve sons half black, half white,  
And every son hath thirty, which still live;  
And when their sire's decease, they them revive:  
So sire and sous still die, but die in vain;  
For, still the thirty them revive again,  
And yet these thirty every Month do die;  
Yet every Month they live immortally!  
Thus, by a Year (which evermore doth raise  
Twelve months (like sons) and each month thirty days)  
Time turns over All, and All doth overturn,  
Till in the later day himself shall burn;  
And then Eternity shall take his Room,  
In which is nothing past, nor yet to come;  
Wherein the subject of my Song still is  
A glorious Angel in the height of Bliss!  
Atheist, stand far from this her sacred shrine:  
For, thou art foe to all that is divine:  
Thou dost believe where ere her Corpses consumes,  
There perisheth her soul, which ne'er assumes  
The same again: but (o her flesh shall rise  
(As doth her fame) above both death and skies.  
And why shoudlest thou the Resurrection doubt,  
When Clouds of Proofs so compass it about?  
Some write that Swallows drowned are in the Deep,  
In Winter; and, in Summer, rise from sleep,  
The Fly in Winter, dies; in Summer, lives;  
And, being drowned, warm Ashes her revives.  
The Urchin of the Sea, in pieces rend,  
Re-watered, joins, and lives incontenent!  
Each Grain that rots before the same doth spring  
Is a true figure of this real thing.  
Each Plant, which in the Winter (seeming) dies,  
And springs in Summer, shows men, dead, shall rise.  
Say a man famished, into Air were passed,  
Yet air shall yield what it receives at last  
As well as Earth, and Seas shall yield their dead;  
Though on them (vanished) Worms or Fish have ●ed.  
At first, they gave, what they did not receive;  
Then, what they take, shall they not rather give?  
He that, but with a Word, made Man of nought,  
Can he not raise him, dead, now he is aught?  
If no: his Arm wants wont power, and length;  
Or else wants knowledge to employ his strength.  
But in th' Almighty none of th●se appear,  
That knew our smallest Portions ere they were.  
If Nothing were the point from whence did rise  
Creation, it may be the Point likewise  
Of Resurrection; but it Something is  
That shall be raised: the easier than is this.  
Say Men eat Men, through some hard exigent,  
And them converted have to nutriment,  
Yet shall their Excrement (how ere unmeet)  
At last yield up their Relics pure as sweet!  
For, at that Day each man shall put on fresh  
Flesh of his own, and not another's flesh.  
And though he fed of others, that shall be  
Restored the owner, be it he or she.  
And Beasts of prey, that oft on Men do feed,  
Do die; and of them Flies or Worms do breed.  
Those Flies and Worms are often food for Fish,  
And they again come often to our dish;  
All this may be: and so a Man may go  
Through Beasts, Fish, Fowle, and Vermine too and fro,  
And never rest, though he be dead, till he  
From that base Progress lastly raised be.  
Yet he that w●ll knew All ere aught was made,  
Knows where what ere created is, doth vade;  
And, can, but with a thought re-gather it;  
And make it in the proper figure knit!  
For, if 'twere worthy God's Creation erst,  
To make Man subject to a fall at first;  
It's far more worthy for his powerful hand  
To raise him, dead, eternally to stand:  
For, Death is but a sleep: and as a Man  
Can wake Men, sleeping: so, th' Almighty can,  
Raise up the dead so much more easily  
As matchless Power doth pass Infirmity.  
If Heaven be just, and there be Providence;  
Then we shall rise when we are fallen from hence:  
For, if the good, in this Life, find but Woes,  
And no joy in the next, most cursed are those.  
Nay, most bruit Beasts more happy are than they  
Who here do most of all Watch, fast and pray.  
The Rod of Moses turned to a Snake,  
Shows God of one thing, can another make.  
And shall he not (so, fail us in our trust)  
Restore man to himself, when he is dust?  
O Heaveus forefend, we should once so conceive;  
For, God can neither alter nor deceive!  
Our Bodies are his seed; Churchyards and Graves  
Are all his Seed-plots, where his Seed he saves  
By sowing to corrupt, to rise again  
Most incorrupt; and so, by loss, to gain.  
In the Cadaver, some have thought some Bon●  
Retains the Seed of Resurrection;  
Which kept from rotting by th' Almighty's force,  
Should raise, at last, the Worme-consumed Corse!  
Some say, that in the Teeth that Seed doth lie,  
Sith Earth, air, Fire them hardly putrefy.  
But we believe this Seed (and do not doubt)  
Is not within the Body, but without:  
For, when the Trump shall sound, the dead shall peep  
Out of their graves, as newly waked from sleep.  
By that great Power that, there, asleep them laid:  
Then in that Power that Seed is solely stayed.  
But, some do say, our Bodies cannot rise  
From Earth to Heaven, for that above the Skies  
No nasty Body can remain; because  
Such to the Centre Nature ever draws.  
Fond men! they know not, than our Flesh shall be  
Not changed in Substance, but in Quality.  
Our Bodies shall be Heavenly; so they shall  
Agree with any place Celestial.  
Our blessed saviours Body, once like ours,  
(Save that it could not sin) those heavenly towers;  
Do now enwall: then; in that Heaven of bliss,  
Why, by his Power, may ours not stay with his?  
That Water hangs in th' Air who doth not know?  
And by the Loadstone heavy Iron doth so.  
If Nature can do this; what can persuade  
God's Power is less than Natures, which he made?  
No, no, his Power, that doth all power comprise,  
Can flesh refine, t'inhabit (so) the Skies!  
By which high Power and his divinest Grace  
There rests my Saint, as in her proper place.  
Her Soul there rests; and in those heavenly Bowers  
Her Body shall, when it shall rise with ours.  
Which while (too short a while) it sojourned here,  
It did celestial to all Eyes appear.  
Then, may a little mending make it fit  
For Heaven, that was so heavenly out of it!  
Thou wast (rare Maid) alive, sh' Angelical,  
That, dead, thy dust is Metaphysical.  
If some shall muse why I contemplate Thee  
Among his Praises that most praiseful be,  
Let if suffice them, 'twas of purpose done,  
To praise thee, Star, for light had of this Sun,  
Within the Volume that includes his praise  
(That nought includes) so his in thine to raise:  
As when we laud the light the Sun doth give  
We praise the Giver in the Gift; and strive  
(When most we praise the Taker) to renown  
The Givers praise, for gracing so his own:  
So, and none otherwise, I praise the Grace  
Appearing in the Soul, Limbs, Eyes, and Face  
Of Nature's Masterpiece this goodly Maid;  
Of whom all good, can never ill be said.  
If so much heavenly Grace, and Gifts of Nature  
(As Virtue, Beauty, rarest Form and Stature)  
Should not be graced by them they good; then I  
May say, the bettered are the worse thereby:  
For, still th'ungrateful for a Benefit,  
(Though bound) are free from Honesty and Wit.  
And though the virtuous, for their virtues sake,  
Look not for praise; but strive it to forsake,  
(To keep them humble) yet each virtuous Wit  
Should honour Virtue for selfe-benefit.  
And sith Posterity doth light receive  
To run to Honour by the Lines we leave  
From Virtue drawn; we should be drawing still  
The Lines that (drawing) lead up Honours Hill.  
The Highest Power and Grace, by oath, hath vowed  
To honour them (among the multitude  
Of Men and Angels) that are good; then she  
That was so good, of both must honoured be!  
Celestial Maid, if from the heavenly Sphere,  
What Mortals do, thou canst or see, or hear,  
Be not displeased that my untutored Pen  
Should teach thy praise, to teach all Maids and Men  
The way to Honour: nor, that in its Mouth  
(That oft doth fable) it should take this Truth.  
I was thy Teacher, though (unworthy) I  
Might (old) learn of thee (young) to live and die.  
Yet sith it is th' Oblation of my zeal,  
Which I do offer for the Commonweal  
In thy dear Memory; thou wilt (I hope)  
Acquit me from Presumption; sith my scope  
Was but thy glory, and the People's good,  
Which in great light, go right in likelihood.  
I must confess a Priest of Phoebus, late,  
Upon like Text so well did meditate,  
That with a sinless Envy I do run  
In his Souls Progress, till it all be DONNE.  
But, he hath got the start in setting forth  
Before me, in the Travel of that WORTH:  
And me outgone in Knowledge every way  
Of the Souls Progress to her final stay.  
But his sweet Saint did usher mine therein;  
(Most blessed in that) so, he must needs begin;  
And read upon the rude Anatomy  
Of this dead World; that, now, doth putrefy.  
Yet greater Will, to this great Enterprise  
(Which in great Matters solely doth suffice)  
He cannot bring than I: nor, can (much less)  
Renown more Worth than is in WORTHINESS!  
Such were they both: for, such a worthy PAIR  
(Of lovely virtuous Maids, as good as faeire)  
Self- Worthiness can scarce produce, sith they  
Lived like Celestial Spirits, immured in Clay!  
And if all-powerful Love can All perform,  
That in it hath rare Matter, or like Form,  
Then should my Lines have both so'accomplished,  
As from the Grave to Heaven should draw the Dead:  
Or, with h●r Taper-pointed-beaming Name,  
Nail her to Heaven, and in Heaven clench the same!  
Hold Muse, no more: (thou hast too large a scope,  
To prove thy Pinnions: for, the Heavenly Cope  
enfolds no more) and take thy leave anon  
Of Her thou ne'er shalt leave to muse upon.  
Thou mayst be tired; but ne'er canst fly about  
The Inside of her praise, much less the out.  
Then stooping here, with reverence, grief and love,  
Bid her adieu; and, with that bidding, move  
Thyself to tears; but, if thou canst not so,  
Show thyself willing by the dryest woe:  
For, never had I greater cause of grief;  
Sith while she lived, I joyed, in painful life:  
But now, am left all solitary-sad  
To wail her death, whose life made Sorrow glad!  
O! had it pleased the Heavens, by their Decree,  
T'have made my Pupil learned t'have died of me,  
(And mine example) I had been at rest,  
And she live blessed long, to die as blest.  
ay, like a withered Pine, no fruit produce;  
Of whom there is no Care, no hope, no use.  
I burden but the Earth, and keep a place  
Of one (perhaps) that should have greater grace:  
Oppressed with Cares that quite crush out the sap  
That feeds my Life; now thrown off Natures Lap.  
I solely sit, and tell the saddest hours,  
That ever yet impeached vital powers.  
Obscured by Fate, yet made a Mark by fame;  
Whereat fools, often, shoot their Bolts, in game.  
Yet, live as buried (that I learned of thee  
Dear Pupil) while the World goes over me.  
Praying for patience still to under-ly  
The heavy weight of this World's injury.  
Oft have I been enbozomed by Lords;  
But all the warmth I found there, was but Words.  
And though I scarce did move, yet scarce they would  
There let me lie, though there I lay acold;  
But, as I had some biting Vermin been,  
Out must I, moved I but for warmth therein.  
Or else so lie, as I were better out;  
Sith there I lay as dead, yet lived in doubt:  
In doubt I should have nothing but a place  
In th' outward Room but of their Idle Grace.  
In doubt black mouths should blot me in their Books  
That make few Scholars; and in doubt my Hooks  
Would hold no longer to hang on (o Grief!)  
This hangings worse than hanging of a Thief!  
An Halter loon abridgeth bale and breath;  
But hanging on men's sleeves, is double death.  
To hang in hope of that which doubt doth stay  
Is worse than hanging till the later-DAY.  
Doubt stays that meed that merit hopes for, oft,  
Lest Meede should but make Merit look aloft;  
Or, quite leave working, sith it hath no need;  
Therefore the great do still withhold this Meede:  
For, to themselves they say; If we should fill  
The well-deseruing-empty (working still)  
They would but rest: than, well we'll them entreat  
Yet keep them hungry still to work for meat.  
Fate, but to State this privilege affords;  
And but the mean, without means, work for words.  
Yet work they must, sith Air the great do give:  
For, if they have their hate they cannot live.  
Their Love doth little boot; but o their breath  
Blows down, in hate, a poor Relict to death.  
These miseries I ran through, and did try  
These dear Conclusions but in misery;  
Hoping for that which but my hopes deceived;  
And me of hope and life, almost, bereaved.  
Till I (to stand) from these was fain to fall  
To serve two Lords that serve me, now, withal:  
The one immortal, th'other mortal is:  
Who serve my turn for what my life doth miss  
Which, for it's still amiss, still misseth that  
Which makes men gracious, and (so) fortunate:  
But he, who knows all, knows (perhaps) its best  
For me to live with little, in unrest:  
For, never since I first could move, had I  
A better life than those that (living) die.  
I never yet possessed one day of joy  
That was not lined or hemmed with some annoy.  
The Kingly Preacher in his weal found woe;  
But I in thwarts, for those alone I know.  
These made me old in youth: for, Sol had run  
Scarce thirty years before my days were done;  
And to his course ere five more added were,  
Black Days (like Nights) in grey had died my Hair.  
Yet never Cross on me so sad did sit  
As this dear loss; whereof this benefit  
To me acrewes, that (now) each pressing woe  
Stands far without this, and this keeps them so.  
I say I greatly grieve; yet seem to feign:  
For, great griefs never greatly could complain:  
That is, when sorrows flood the Banks doth fill,  
It noiseless runs, and smoothly glideth still:  
But if the Current once the Brims get over,  
'twill roughly run; or, stopped, will rage and roar.  
But, o, that tyrant Time will silence me  
Before my griefs are uttered as they be:  
Farewell then, my griefs Cause, who wast th' effect  
Of all the joy my life did well elect:  
Farewell, in Him, on whom who sares is well;  
And, while I live, I'll be the leading-Bell  
That shall thy loudest Peals of praises ring  
Which in the Clouds shall ne'er leave echoing!  
Or, be the Trumpet of thy Fame to fill  
Th' aetherial Lofts with Strains more lofty still!  
That when Times wings his Funeral flame consumes  
Thy Fame shall soar with fair unsinged Plumes!   

An Epitaph on the death of the right virtuous Lady Liegh; sole Daughter of the same right Honourable, Lord Elesmere, Lord Chancellor of England: which Lady deceased the third day of April, Anno Dom. 1612.  

HEre dead she lies; who while alive she was,  
was Grace's Inn; Wits Home, and Virtues Rest:  
Whose WORTH was of true Worthiness a Mass:  
yet well proportioned for her humble Breast.   

A Wise and Mother! as it's hard to say,  
whose loss was great'st, her children's, or her phoares:  
To either wisely kind; to each a stay;  
that made one, love; the other, love and fear.   

To her all-honoured Sire, she was as dear,  
as she was virtuous; which was as the blood  
In his Heart's Centre; which to him is near;  
yet dearer held his flesh in one so good!   

Who died (as live she did) in grace and peace,  
more laden with good-deeds than idle-dayes:  
Leaving her worth (for worthiness increase)  
for wives unborn, to imitate and praise.   

Who had at once, two Husbands; yet she lived  
of Wisely truth a constant Paragon:  
One Husband heavenly was; who hath deprived  
the Earthly of her, for himself alone.  
Yet, ere he had her, bought her with his Blood:  
But, with her, bought a World of Womanhood!   

Then, maugre Time, & Death these Lines, though weak,  
May lead all Times all good of her to speak!   

Here Muse, now close the Paper-tombes of these  
Two virtuous Souls, and Bodies; Aunt and Niece.  
with this,  
A good Name is better than a good Ointment: and the  
day of death, than the day that one is borne. Eccles. 7.3.    

The Picture of an happy man..  

HOw blest is he (though ever crossed)  
that can all Crosses Blessings make;  
That finds himself ere he be lost;  
and, lose that found for virtues sake.   

Yea, blessed is he in life and death,  
that fears not Death, nor loves this Life;  
That sets his Will his Wit beneath;  
and hath continual peace in strife.   

That striveth but with fraile-Desire;  
desiring nothing that is ill;  
That rules his Soul by Reason's Squire;  
and works by wisdoms Compass still.   

That nought observes, but what preserves  
his mind and body from offence:  
That neither Courts nor Seasons serves:  
and learns without experience.   

That hath a Name as free from blot  
as virtues Brow; or, as his life  
Is from the least suspect or spot,  
although he lives without a Wife.   

That doth (in spite of all debate)  
possess his Soul in Patience;  
And pray, in love for all that hate;  
and hate but what doth give Offence.   

Whose Soul is like a Sea, too still,  
that rests, though moved; yet, moved (at least)  
With love and hate of good and ill,  
to whaft the Mind the more to Rest.   

That singly doth, and doubles not;  
but is the same he seems; and is  
Still, simply so, and yet no Sot;  
but yet not knowing ought amiss.   

That never Sin concealed keeps;  
but shows the same to God, or more;  
Then ever for it sighs and weeps;  
and joys, in Soul, for grieving so.   

That, by himself, doth others meet;  
and, of himself, still meekly deems;  
That never sat in Scorners Seat;  
but, as himself, the worst esteems.   

That loves his body for his Soul;  
Soul, for his Mind; his Mind for God;  
God, for himself; and doth control  
CONTENT, if It with him be odd.   

That to his Soul, his Sense subdues;  
his Soul, to reason; and reason to Faith:  
That Vice in virtues shape eschews;  
and both, by Wisdom, rightly waigt'h.   

That rests in action, acting nought  
but what is good in deed and show;  
That seeks but God within his thought,  
and thinks but God to love and know.   

That all unseen, sees All, (like Him)  
and makes good use of what he sees;  
That notes the tracts and tricks of Time,  
and flees with th'one, the other flees.   

That lives too low for envies looks;  
and yet too high for loathed Contempt;  
Who makes his Friend's Goodmen, and Books,  
and nought without them doth attempt.   

That lives as dying; living yet  
in death, for life he hath in hope:  
As far from State, as sin, and debt;  
of happy life the means and scope.   

That fears no frowns, nor cares for fawns  
of Fortune's favourits, or foes,  
That neither checks with Kings, nor Pawns;  
and yet still wins what Checkers lose.   

That ever lives a light to All,  
(though oft obscured) like the Sun:  
And though his Fortunes be but small,  
yet Fortune doth not seek nor shun.   

That never looks but grace to find;  
" nor seeks for knowledge to be known:  
That makes a Kingdom of his Mind,  
wherein, with God, he reigns alone.   

This Man is great with little state,  
Lord of the World Epitomized:  
Who, with stayed Front, out-faceth Fate;  
and, being empty, is sufficed:  
Or, is sufficed with little; sith (at least)  
He makes his Conscience a continual Feast.    

This Life is but Death.  

Though Fire by warmth cheers life; great heat brings death;  
though good Air life detains; bad, life defines:  
Though Water stays our thirst, it stops our breath;  
though fruitful Earth doth feed; the barren, pines.   

Toomuch o'er-fils; too-little, feebles life:  
Wealth wants not Cares; & Want, wants all but Cares:  
Soleness, brings sadness; Company, but strife;  
and sudden joys do kill, as well as fears.   

Mean mirth, is rational; extreme, is mad;  
no good so good, but here it's mixed with ill:  
Nay, too much goodness is exceeding bad;  
yea, bad, if blind it be, is true goodwill:  
And, save the Highest, our highest gain is loss;  
Then, life's but death where all things are so cross.    

True Wealth.  

THat Grace that neither wonders, grieves, nor joys  
at Fortune's utmost, seeking but to find  
What Bounty (still in action) best employs;  
nor wails the want that beggars not the Mind:   

That neither, grieving, sighs; nor, joying, sings:  
that shines most glorious, in most gloomy days;  
Pleased with the state her own endeavour brings;  
that droops not with defame; nor swells with praise:   

That scorns Disdain, disdaining nought but vice;  
and Greatness rates by Goodness: doing nought  
But good for ill; and that for avarice  
of goodness only; by her only sought:  
That Time and Wealth well spent, doth not deplore:  
This is that Wealth, without which Wealth is poor.    

An Angellike man..  

HE which (provoked) endures, as borne to bear;  
and looks alike in greatest weal and woe;  
That so loves good, that ill he nought doth fear;  
and ebbs in Mind when Fortunes most do slow.   

That bounds Desire with less than he enjoys:  
(for, only nothing's less than Nature needs)  
That holds all virtues dear; all else but toys;  
and, meekly, scours Pride's rust, from his bright deeds.   

That's better than he seems, yet seems the best:  
but, without scandal, seeks to seem the worst:  
That, quelled with Crosses, thinks him highly blest;  
and, for the Bliss of all, would die accursed:  
In sum: that would do all that All should do  
For love of All: this Man's an Angel too.    

A sick Minds Potion for all in Tribulation in Body: or for the saving of their Soul.  

THou that dost joy or grieve beneath the weight  
of his dear Cross, who died on't for thy sake,  
View and review these Lines with more delight  
than Patients do the Potions which they take:  
How ere they sense displease, they wholesome be;  
so wholesome, as they often whole do make:  
So may this Potion work the like in thee:  
My Muse desires to make it grief expel;  
And, all she seeks, is but to take it well.   

Yet this I do as oft the sick do talk  
of Health; not for they have, but would have it;  
So, I exhort to Patience, though I baulk  
her Way; and only wish the same to hit:  
Yet, as a sick Physician soon may find  
a Potion for another's Passion fit:  
So may a sick Mind cure a sicker Mind:  
No Mind more sick than mine; yet well I know  
What's good for Minds so ill; and, that I show.   

The Soul that sins, unplagued, wild quickly grows,  
as Trees unpruned; and, but sour fruit produce;  
The heavenly Planter then, no cost bestows,  
but it abandons as unfit for use.  
Why weep'st thou then, sad soul? what thou endur'st  
a blessing is, no beating for abuse:  
Or, if it be, sith it thyself procurest,  
Thy patient bearing this thy Sourge (or Cross)  
Doth make it score less; nay, thy Score doth cross   

Regard not then thine anguish, in the Rod;  
but, in thy Father's Will what place thou hast:  
If thou wilt share the pleasures of thy God,  
then, of his Cup thou must, with pleasure, taste.  
The Ox assigned for slaughter well is fed,  
and lies at ease; while others labour fast,  
And still are yoked, tired, pricked, and punished.  
" Not all that stroke are friends, nor foes that strike;  
" but strokes that maim from either, we mislike.   

The Wounds, a friend doth give, are sweeter far  
than suger'dst Kisses of a fraudful foe:  
The first, oft make; the last, more often mar;  
for, surgeons Bands do pinch, to solder so:  
Who binds the Mad, or wakes the Lethargic,  
how ere he seems, thereby, t'awake their woe;  
Yet, he to both's a friendly Empiric.  
" Severity is Mercy oftentimes,  
" And Mildness cruel, that increaseth Crimes.   

To wean us from this World, an unkind Nurse,  
God (only good and wise) anoints her Teats  
With Gall of troubles, spites, and what is worse;  
and as a Mother well her Child entreats;  
But makes her Servants use it ill; that so  
finding of all, save her, but blows and threats,  
It may to her, the much more willing, go:  
So, God permits that All should us molest,  
That we may fly to Him, and love him best.   

The flatt'rings of the World, the Flesh, the Fiend,  
are but the kisses of worst Enemies;  
And though the Fiend to Heaven seems to ascend,  
like Ioues own Bird that nestles in the Skies;  
Yet is he but a greedy Bird that towers  
to Heaven, while on the Earth he nearly pries,  
To watch his Prey, whereon forthwith he pours:  
For, he but seems in Virtue to excel;  
And flies to Heaven, to bear his Prey to Hell.   

Out of close-Prison, and much closer Chains  
many do travel; but, their journeys end  
An endless Kingdom is; whose greatest Pains  
are endless joys; these sink, but to ascend,  
Unlike the Fiend that mounts, to fall more low;  
and, ruin that, on which he doth descend;  
But, low these stoup, to shun an Overthrow:  
" To bear high Sails in Tempests, is to have  
" Our Keel turned up with every Gust and Wave.   

If Crosses heavy be; o yet (at least)  
they make the Soul as sober as discreet:  
If we be fellows of our Lord's unrest,  
we shall be of his rest and comforts sweet:  
He wounds; but h●s are wounds but of a Friend,  
that in no fortune once from us will fleet;  
And lanceth but ●o cure, and make us mend:  
" I● is a pain, that's free from all annoy,  
" To die with torment still to live in joy.   

He that had seen just joseph in his Chains;  
in Sackcloth Mordocheus (his Iyb●t nigh)  
Susanna going to her mortal Pains,  
would have bewailed their infortunity:  
But, had he known that joseph should be rid  
from Giues to Rule; ●nd Mardochs jeopardy  
Conclude in Honour, as sasanna's did,  
He would have though them blest in great mishap,  
sith so great Comfort was the after-clap.   

So much the Fiend shall tempt, when thou dost dote▪  
as shall enforce ●hy mind to mind her m●sse:  
If Christ we serve, Affliction is our Coa●e;  
his Cross, our Badge, to make us known for his:  
His nakedness, how we should clothe us, shows;  
his Gall, how we should feed on Agonies:  
B'his hanging on the Cross, how to repose:  
And by his Death (wherein all pains were ri●e)  
How to esteem the pleasures of this life.   

Worlds- weale's our woe; and yet we will not see't:  
young Toby walked securely in the Mire:  
But at the River when he washed his Feet,  
a Fish was like to swallow him entire.  
He that, on pain of life, must watch the Foe,  
wakes best when he is nearest Afflictions fire;  
But, on the Bed of ease he doth not so:  
In this World's hell, if ease be good for aught,  
It's Poesy; yet too much makes it nought.   

Besides, the better mind, the worse is tempted:  
Pirates to charge the empty Ship, forbear,  
But richly laden, and from fear exempted,  
they charge it home, and give it cause of fear:  
Even so the Fiend, while we are void of Grace,  
le's not our Voyage, but our Helm doth steer:  
But when we take in truest Goods apace,  
With Storms of troubles than he seeks to reave  
Us of our freight; and, o'er Board us to heave.   

Of joseph, Benjamin was loved best;  
in his Sack, therefore, Joseph's Cup was found:  
So doth the Cup Christ drank of, ever rest  
with those to whom his love doth still abound:  
On Beds of Roses lies Lasciviousness,  
which Virtue hates, sith she corrupts the sound;  
But Virtue lives, too oft; in all distress:  
For, she respects not Fortune; nor disdains  
To lie with those, that often lie in Chains.   

When God had praised job, the Fiend strait prayed  
that he might prove him with Affliction:  
And when the heavenly Voice, of Christ, had said;  
This is my dear, and well-beloved Son,  
He, in the Desert, was, soon after, tried.  
" They find most Lets that most aright do run;  
" And they left Rubs that most do run aside:  
" But, strait to run, despite each spiteful Let,  
" Doth Glory gain, while Shame the rest do get.   

When holy David did his People count,  
a great Mortality his Coasts did scour:  
But when Augustus did this Sin surmount,  
taxing the World (by his usurped Power)  
He ne'er was with least Punishment annoyed:  
So, jonas, fly'ing, a Whale did him devour,  
While Pagan-Passengers a Calm enjoyed:  
But, though the Whale did jonas (so) enjoy,  
He swallowed, but to save, and not destroy.   

And as a scar a Son takes in the Face  
in his Sires quarrel, though the Face it mars;  
Yet it procures the Father's love and grace,  
and so gets glory by such graceless scars:  
So, God desirous more to have us kind  
than comely Children, thrusts us in his Wars,  
As we were but to fire and sword assigned:  
He takes more pleasure in the great'st annoys  
We have for him, then in our ghostly joys.   

Each Danger, for our Mistress, undertaken,  
seems most secure; and pleasant, deadli'st pain:  
The Wounds both for & from her (though but bane)  
seem honied-sweet; and loss, for her, is gain:  
The colours that she likes; we most do love:  
her words, mere Oracles; her spot, no stain;  
Her actions, Patterns, ours to shape and prove:  
All her perfections past Superlatives;  
And imperfections, least Diminutives.   

And shall we do and think all this, and more,  
but for a shade of Beauty; and endure  
Nothing for Beauty's Substance? nor adore  
the CREATOR but in the Creäture?  
O! 'tis a shame that reason should be so mad  
in men of mind: for love (if it be true)  
Will most affect what's rarest to be had.  
" The Object of true Love is greatest GOOD;  
" If less she loves, it ill is understood.   

With our Souls Eye, if Christ, our peace be viewed▪  
true love shall see a Soule-afflicting sight;  
His head with blood (that thorns do broach) imbrued;  
his Ears, with Blasphemies; his Eyes, with Spite:  
His Mouth, with gall; his Members all, with wounds;  
his Heart, with grief; and all in all unright:  
Yea, so unright, as justice quite confounds:  
Yet, man's Ingratitude doth grieve him more  
Than all these Plagues, as manifold as sore.   

And, o, for whom doth he the same endure?  
for Man, begot in filth; in darkness, formed;  
With throws, brought forth; & brought forth most unpure,  
whose child-hood's but a dream, with pains enormed,  
His youth, but rage; his manhood, ceaseless fight;  
his Age, mere sickness, all his life unsure:  
And, worst of all, his death is full of fright.  
This, this is he, for whom heavens God endures  
All shame and pain, that pain and shame procures.   

weare nowhere safe, where we may fall to sin;  
in Heaven, nor Paradise; with men much less:  
In Heaven fell Angels; Paradise within,  
the first man fell, through whom, all men transgress:  
In the World judas, from his Lord did fall:  
so no place can defend from Wretchedness,  
But he that place confines, and holds up All:  
For who from worse to better falls, he may  
From better fall to worse, without his stay.   

If Crosses traverse not our Comforts, than  
we ought to cross ourselves as many did  
That were Men Angellike; or, Gods with men;  
who hardly lived, in Dens and Deserts hid:  
Fed little, and slept less; in Sackcloth clad;  
to mind them that to mourn they here were bid;  
So, chose fo●d, place and suit as suits the sad:  
To sing in Babylon, being Abraham's Seed,  
Is to forget our Bondage and our Creed.   

Heaven is our native Home, our Canaan;  
Earth's but the shade of Death, or vale of Tears:  
Then mirth in place of moave, but kills a man:  
at point of Death he's mad that Music neares:  
Therefore those Saints, (discreet, sad, ●ob●r Souls)  
rejected all that Sense to Life ende●r●s;  
And live (as buried quick in ●aues) like Mo●es.  
" I● Weapons l●s●e do wound th●n sharpest praise,  
" Les●e hu●ts lamenting, than the Sirens ●ayes.   

And as Men longing, at Noonday, to see  
the Lamps of Heaven, descend into a Well  
As deep as dark▪ that so their sight may be  
the more contracted, smallest Stars to tell:  
So, pious m●n, that fain would fix their Eyes,  
still on the Stars (the Saints in Heaven that dwell)  
Descend (in Earth) to low'st Obscurities:  
" For, to a loving Soul all labour's sweet  
" That tends (although in Hell) her Love to meet.   

Low is our Way; but, our Home most sublime:  
if home we wou●d, th●n this low Way is best,  
Which yet, grows steep somewhere, and hard to climb;  
yet, Love o'ercomes it, & eternal Rest:  
Vain pleasures are like Gold thrown in our Way;  
and, while to gather it, we stoop, at least,  
It let's us, and our judgements doth betray:  
But if on Heaven our minds be altogether,  
Nothing shall let our Bodies going thither.   

Which way go you saith Christ to those that stray?  
I am the WAY▪ and whither will you wend?  
I am the TRUTH: or else where will you stay?  
I am the LIFE: that is, your journeys end.  
Now if this Way do lead o'er steeps and plains,  
If this Truth teach us, rising, to descend,  
If this Life be not got but with our pains,  
Then, woe to them that laugh, sith weep should all;  
And blessed they that weep; for, laugh they shall.   

We should be, therefore, like th' Egytian Dogs,  
that drink of Nilus running, lest they should  
By staying much, to drink like greedy Hogs,  
the Crocodile might have them, so, in hold:  
Nature doth teach them, reas'nlesse, what to do:  
then, shall not grace work much more manifold  
With human Creatures, that divine are too?  
It should: then, we are mad, or reason lack,  
to quench our thirst of having with our wrack.   

What is't to have much more than Nature needs;  
but, to have more than Nature well can bear:  
Like one that's deadly drunk, or over-feedes,  
whose excess makes his Death excessive cheer!  
Enough, then, should be better than a feast,  
sith more is mortal, howsoever dear;  
For, Nature cannot well so much digest.  
" Much less than little (only) makes her grudge;  
" Enough maintains her better than too much.   

Besides; in us, Sin is more odious grown,  
then in the Devil: for, his was but one sin:  
Ours, numberless: his, yer Revenge was known;  
ours, when we knew it; and might favour win:  
In Innocence created, sinned he;  
but we, when to't we had restored been:  
In malice he, of God forsook; but we  
when GOD recalled us to his saving- Grace:  
He damned, we saved: yet were in worse Case▪   

For we were saved in possibility;  
but he condemned; so, could not saved be:  
He sinned 'gainst one that him did straightly tie;  
but we (worse fiends) 'gainst one that made us free:  
Against one he, that doomed him second-death;  
but, we 'gainst one that died for us: so, he  
Sinned less than we; which Hope quite banisheth,  
Did not the time we live in, stir us (thralls)  
To call for Grace, that comes, if grief but calls.   

He that of Sin, doth know the large extent  
and Hell of Hell's the Soul incurs thereby,  
Shall little feel his Bodies punishment,  
though he, in life, a thousand deaths should die:  
Which borne with Patience, for his saviours love,  
quite abrogate his passed impiety:  
And future sins and pains from him, doth shove:  
" Immortal pains, extreme in quality,  
" Annihilate all mortals quantity!   

Our Faith, in the beginning, thin was sown  
in the afflicti'on, shame, and death of Christ:  
And then with Martyr's Blood 'twas overflown;  
nor, can it grow (or prosper) to the highest  
Without showers, ceaseless, gushing from their wounds:  
then, what art thou, that soon thy Faith deni'st  
For fear of death, that but thy judge confounds▪  
O! I am he, the frailest of flesh and blood,  
That lives for ill, and fears to die for good!   

Yet for Christ 'tis more glory to be crossed,  
then of him to be crowned an earthly King:  
The last may be, by chance or Treason, lost:  
but, from the Cross, immortal Crowns do spring:  
To be in glory may proceed of Grace  
without the glorified his meriting:  
But well-born Crosses alter (quite) the case.  
" Virtue consists in doing hardest things;  
" And, vicious Fools have too too oft been Kings.   

Who suffers strait, hath but one victory;  
but, he that always doth encounter pain,  
And yet o'erthrowes the strongest Extremity,  
is crowned every day, and still shall reign:  
And what is Death but our best earthly friend,  
which kills our Flesh, our deadliest enemy?  
So, friendly is both to and in the end.  
Then Craven, why do I so fly his force,  
That saves me when he makes my corpse a corpse!   

For, if the pining of the body be  
the pampering of the Soul; than, must this friend,  
(That, with his pains makes virtuous Souls to fly  
where they are pampered without mean or end)  
Be still embraced, no● fled: but, o frail flesh  
this dying doctrine doth but thee offend,  
That hold'st it most erroneous, fond, and fresh:  
Thou canst not poise these treasures of the Spirit;  
for, they are weighty and, thou art too light!   

Thou must have all that may thy Senses charm  
with sweet, as most effeminate, delights;  
And fliest from Death to honeyed pleasures swarm;  
yea, follow'st them in their unconstant flights:  
Austerity, nor canst, nor wilt thou brook,  
sith it quite mortifies thy lively spirits;  
And, for thy life, still puttest thee to thy Book:  
But, thou dost long for all that makes thee light,  
As well within, as (gaudy still) in sight.   

Mean while thou burnest to nought with flames of sin:  
for, as the Lightnings flash, although it spares  
The painted sheath, it melts the Blade within;  
(which is the thing more worthy) so it fares  
With sins pernicious fire-flash: for, it leaves  
the goods and body sound: but, unawares,  
The Soul, more precious, it of life bereaves:  
" But, who to spare a Thing of nought, will spend  
" Gods Goape (his Soul) he's mad, & cannot mend   

Many (though Princes) poor, are in their store;  
in Honours, abject; malcontent, in mirth:  
Their flesh, self- frailty; their spirits, basely poor;  
their soul's the sink of all the sins on Earth;  
The Moths of Mankind sores of Sovereignty;  
unhappily-happie in their base-high Birth;  
Who live like Monsters, and like Devils die:  
" The rich, possess; the meek, the Earth enjoy:  
" For they have most, that have the least annoy.   

Look in the Graves, survey the Emperors,  
Kings, Dukes, and Worthies of the Ages past;  
Then look on those whom life and death obscures;  
(poor Beggars) tell me then, who's first, who last;  
Who rich, who poor, who fair, foul, high, or low:  
but, if thou canst when burned be divers Woods,  
Their Ashes well distinguish; then, mayst thou  
distinguish of their bodies, states, and bloods.  
Then wherefore weigh we so our Flesh (misled)  
That's light as vanity alive, and dead?   

And life, at best, is but a golden sleep,  
lined but with silver, or more earthly dreams;  
Or else a Tragedy (that moves to weep)  
of ceaseless troubles, and most dire Extremes;  
A passing but from life is life; for, still  
in stay'ing, it goes; yet unlike Water-streames,  
That, running, stay alike, by Nature's skill:  
Streams, running, rest the same, and not the same;  
But, still unlike, doth burn our vitall-flame.   

Things future, are beginning endlessly;  
Things present, ever ending; and Things passed  
Quite dead or done: for, while we live, w● die;  
and, dead, we live: so life is first and last:  
Then, better die to life, than live to death;  
for, mortall-life (in Death) but time doth waste:  
And Death doth gain of ●ime he shorteneth:  
Who, for our good, our bodies still assails;  
And frees our Souls by ruining their jails.   

It is but Nature's necessary wrack:  
then let us make it voluntary, that  
Is necessary; and still bow our Back  
under the burden of our common state  
With all alacrity; and give to God  
his own; which were most damned to alienate,  
Sith he, of Dolours, paid for it, his load.  
Then, it were Sacrilege not to restore  
That which he made & lent, and bought, and more▪   

Death's dreadful but to those that know him not;  
to those that know him well, he is not so:  
The Old, before their faces him have got;  
the young, behind; while he doth all overthrow▪  
Acquaintance with the Wars, estrangeth fear;  
they dread not waves at Sea, though high they go,  
that used are to them, (though they all o'erbear)  
And with them fight in front, or in the rear:  
Then, not to fear Death, is with him to be  
Familiar made; and, bring Sense under lee.   

The Pilot, while he is his Ship to guide,  
sits at the Stern; for, there he most prevails:  
And, so the virtuous (maugre wind and Tide)  
when through this stormy Sea of life he sails,  
Sits at the Stern; that is, life's hinder-piece;  
where he, in Tempests (bearing lowest Sails)  
Conducts it safely to the Port of Peace:  
" To bear high sails, and still forbear the helm,  
" Is Ship, and freight (so) quite to overwhelm.   

Death is the door, whereby we must go out  
of straightest Bonds to freest Liberty;  
Then as the Prisoner that of Death doth doubt,  
yet waits the while for his delivery,  
Most joys in sitting at the Prison door,  
that, when it's opened, he may instantly  
Get out, t'enjoy his freedom, as before:  
So should our Thoughts be fixed on life's last step,  
To which we soon may jump, but not o'er-leape▪   

Thoughts mortified the ashes are, wherein  
the fire of Virtue, being raked up close,  
The longer lasts, and greater heat doth win,  
to kindle courage in our cold dispose,  
That when Death comes, and those shall be unrak't  
we may rejoice our flame so freely goes  
Unto her Sphere; then should it not be slacked  
In Chimney of our flesh, where it doth lie,  
Like to be quenched with our iniquity.   

And, as a flood that from a mountains top,  
doth (rolling) run, with strange▪ as ceaseless, noise;  
And over many craggy▪ Le's doth hop,  
till in the Val● beneath, it rest enjoys:  
So, fares it with our life; which we begin  
with ceaseless outcries, for our felt annoys;  
Then down Time's hours we run, through lets & sin,  
Till in the end we rest in vale of Death,  
To which we blow ourselves by spending breath.   

Then Death's our rest▪ for, since the same hath passed  
through life's pure Veins, or rather Lords of life,  
Of the least bitterness it hath no taste;  
but, freshest sweetness therein still is rife▪  
It is the virtuous peaceful Paradise;  
but, to the vicious, 'tis a World of strife:  
For, nought is plagued in Death, but mortal Vice:  
Then he may well be styled a Martyr's Peer,  
That virtuous Death doth rather seek than fear.   

Death to a Thiefs' compared; who, if he finds  
the Man, he means to rob, upon his guard,  
He speaks him fair; else him he binds and blinds:  
so, Death is kind to those for him prepared:  
But, cursed to them, that, careless, spend their breath:  
for, all that watch for him, he doth reward  
With endless Life; the rest, with double death:  
But, they that die for Virtue or good note,  
Though he overthrow them, yet they cut his throat!   

And why should his worst look more irk, or fear  
a Man resolved that he can die but once:  
Goliath bought a little Stone as dear  
as Samson did the House that chrusht his bones:  
And, from a Chair to fall, the Neck can break  
as well as falling high, as Thunder-stones▪  
And, all is but one Death, (be ●t strong or weak)  
Deaths sharpest sting, the Heart but enters in,  
Which dies with that, and so 'twill with a pin.   

Why grudge we then, t'endure for endless life  
that, for vainglory, freely we endure?  
Repine we not to die in damned strife,  
and, grudge to die to make our life secure?  
Is Death so sweet, when it the devil commands;  
and when God wills it, is the same to sour?  
What manhood's this, whereon▪ now, manhood stands?  
O ugly valour (if it valour be)  
To flee to death; yet, fearing, life to flee.   

Live well, and, so, die well, perhaps, we may;  
but live still, and not die, we never can:  
Life is not short, that, soon, goes well away;  
and, longest life Truth calleth but a span:  
He dieth old (though young) that well doth die:  
and Life well lost is better than ill wan;  
For, so to win we lose eternally:  
Then, what can countervail eternal loss?  
Nothing that is; no Patience bears that cross.   

If we for virtue do our life forego  
our Pitcher's broken o'er the fountaine-head,  
From whence, what filled it, came; and, where doth flow  
the Aqua vitae, that revives the dead:  
Our liquor is not lost, but run into  
the proper Fount, by Nature thither lead,  
And heavenly Grace assisting Nature too:  
Our life's a war, where patience guards from loss:  
Our Captain, Christ; our Standard is his Cross!   

But, seems God long, thy labours to content;  
the more forborn, the more will be thy meed:  
He takes on Interest what before he lent:  
and, takes delight t'o'er-guerdon each good-deed:  
If in our Vs'ry, then, we wish delay;  
fear we the Lord of All should fall to need,  
That, on his Bond, we dare not give him Day?  
And, shall we trust a Merchant, that may break;  
More than that King, of whom all Kings do seek?   

Admit thou shouldst be racked to strain the Truth,  
(though Racks are made the truth to gain not strain)  
Yet, if thou her believe, let ne'er thy mouth  
deny it for the cracking of a vain▪  
We owe so much to Truth▪ as should we pay  
the real debt, to us should nought remain;  
No, not our lives, which must, for her, away:  
For, God and Truth are Relatives. Not so:  
For, God is Truth; then, for him All must go.   

If Truth-pretending Turks or Infidels  
should on our Plagues, which we for her endure,  
Triumph; and make our Pains so many Hells,  
alas▪ (poor Souls!) they (so) do but procure  
Their own perdition: for, that God we serve  
is God of vengeance; and the same will pour  
On Good-pretenders that so ill deserve▪  
" To be for truth reproached; yea, plagued, or slain,  
" Is to be glorious, free from Death and pain.   

The red-hot It'n into the Water thrown,  
thunder's therein, as if it did it harm,  
Yet, so, the force of burning's overthrown;  
the while the Water, cold before, is warm:  
Like thunderings Tyrants use, in every Age,  
who, though against the Truth themselves they arm;  
And with the blood of Martyrs quench their Rage,  
Yet all their triumph's nothing but the noise  
Of their own quenching, and the Martyr's joys,   

Then, if they show us Honours, Gold, or gems,  
t'entice us to their Faith; they shall but show  
The Lion Chaff, which (chase) he contemns:  
and if with Torments then, they us pursue;  
The Salamander they but threat with fire;  
which makes her rather to rejoice then rue:  
So, that the worst they can do, we desire:  
Then, through the Red-sea of our blood, thus shed,  
Unto Heavens Holy-Land we soonest are led.   

Saints on the Earth resemble Babes dead borne;  
that are no sooner borne, but borne they be  
Unto their graves; so, strait to Ashes turn:  
but Tyrants (Viperlike) do live to ●ee  
Their own Confusion; and the death of those  
which they have martyred: so, from death, made free;  
And, manumised from this World's mortal woes.  
The first, are borne to die, to live in joy;  
The last, to live, to die in all annoy.   

When thieves an house do break, to rob by night;  
(sith 'tis a Work of darkness) first, they will  
(That they may not be known) put out the light;  
and so the good are handled by the ill  
Lights of the World the Good are said to be;  
but bad-men (Sons of darkness) put out still  
Those lights, lest men their darkest deeds should see;  
For, all that evil do, the Light do loath:  
So, love they darkness; and, do darkly both.   

Unto the light it's no reproach at all  
though Bats and Owls abhor it; nor, is it  
Disgrace to Wisdom, if but Idiots shall  
condemn the same for Polly: they want Wit:  
To judge of Wisdom, which is too too bright  
for men to look on that in darkness sit;  
To judge of colours, blinde-men have no light:  
The fault's not in the colours they are so;  
But in their Eyes that can no colours know.   

far sweeter are the Tears of them that mourn,  
then is their laughter that in mirth are lost:  
All crosses by the virtuous so are borne,  
that most they joy in that which grieveth most:  
Like Roses 'mong the Thorns, their pleasures are  
most sweet, when as they are most sharply crossed;  
And, being at the worst, they best do fare!  
But, put the least cross on a sensual Soul,  
And 'twil (blaspheming) grudge, nay, cry, & howl.   

The greater Ox the yokes worst part doth bear,  
(that is, the heaviest) Christ (that is, thy God)  
Thy yokes most heavy part with thee doth wear,  
that so thou mayst, with him, the lighter plod  
Through thick and thin: for him thou canst not do  
that he did for thee; he feels the Rod,  
Yet he doth all in us, and for us too:  
" Mates in afflictions, make Affliction less:  
Then, if Christ bear, with us, nought can oppress!   

This life is but a lie; true life's not here;  
it seems, but is not: so, it is not true:  
Than, for a lie, or what doth false appear,  
let us not lie to God, or break our vow  
We made in Baptism; but to cleave to him,  
although for it, it might (perhaps) ensue  
That we to him, in our own Blood should swim▪  
That water's strong; it will not let us sink,  
And, to engross sure Deeds, the only Ink!   

The life of David was but Tears and moan;  
but Salomon● was joy and Mirth throughout:  
Yet David (sure) is saved: but, Solomon  
whether he be, or no, Believers doubt.  
Poor Lazarus lived here in dying-plight:  
Dives in all that reveld with the Rout  
Of honeyed Pleasures, and extreme delight:  
But he that lived in death, in joy now lives;  
And he that joyed in life, in death now grieves.   

As sweetest Wine doth soon boil our blood:  
so, this World's favour works us most annoy:  
The Water of Detraction then, is good  
to mingle with it, lest we should be coy:  
For, being gracious in the great Ones sight:  
when Cunning clawing makes us dote, with joy,  
weare best remembered by the tongue of Spite:  
" So, foes do oft make those, that friends do mar;  
" As many live most warily in War.   

He that should pass a Ford, that swift doth glide,  
(so to prevent his giddiness of Brain)  
Should fix his sight upon the further side;  
not on the Water, and himself sustain  
By one more strong, that, as his guide, should go,  
lest that the Current, running so amain,  
Should overwhelm him by an Overthrow:  
Then, rest on Christ, and fix thine Eyes on bless▪  
while thou go'st through all Torrents of distress.   

Through fire and water we must pass, before  
we can arrive where nothing can distress:  
Our flesh in both should purged be more and more;  
for, in the p●r'st its full of filthiness  
In double kind: and, makes clean Souls the while  
●o loath their Lodge, so full of sluttishness,  
Consorted with all vices that defile:  
" Pride, Envy, Wrath, Lust, Hate, with all amiss,  
" The Species are, and Flesh the Genus is.   

For, flesh is earth; so, in our souls it sets  
foul thoughts: (as earthly, as voluptuous)  
The World as vain as c●rious thoughts begets;  
the Fiend, malicious thoughts and envious:  
Who on the flesh for help doth much rely,  
sith household enemies may soon hurt,  
She being here freedenized specially;  
and we in bondage toiling here in dirt:  
Then, doth the World rely upon the Devil  
To make flesh love the World: and, so, all evil▪   

So these procure us Worlds of Enemies:  
if Avarice be quailed; Lust, seconds her:  
If Lust be foiled; Ambition strait doth rise:  
If she be down; then Anger wageth War:  
If it be cooled, Pride, Envy and the like  
give fresh encounters in this mortal jar;  
And all, with all their might, our ruin seek:  
Then, where the fight's so fell and ceaseless too,  
Wert not for grace, most would themselves misdo.  
Then, if we weigh our flesh how frail it is,  
how full of all disease, in life, how dead!  
In Death, how foul! (as nought so foul as this)  
how then can we be light with so much Led?  
Or how can we be pleased such filth to feed  
as in our Nature naturally is bred;  
And, whence so many Prodigies proceed?  
Then if we may be rid from such annoy,  
But with one death, it is the life of joy▪   

And what is Honour but a lie, like life?  
for, as a Ship at Sea, with swelling Sails,  
By winds, that for her peace are still at strife,  
dancing upon the Waves with merry Gales  
Allureth every Eye her pride to praise:  
but when to th' Haven she comes with her avails,  
she's by the Searcher sacked, or Custom pays:  
So they, in life▪ that are most honoured,  
Are often most dishonoured being dead.   

And likewise, while some sail on Surges high  
of puft-up vanities; and still ensue  
The Tide of Times, armed with Authority,  
are praised, and followed of the worldly Crew:  
But if, by grace, they do themselves withdraw  
into a virtuous life: then, strait their due  
Is searched or sacked, by Custom, or by Law:  
O th●n how blessed are they that most are cursed  
(For their so blest retiring) of the worst.   

The Libard bears to man such mortal hate,  
that in his face he flies when him he sees:  
Therefore they use a man to figurate,  
and show i● him, at which forthwith he flees,  
And piecemeal tears it; so, his wrath t'assuage.  
showing thereby how ill with man he'agrees:  
So Satan and his Members being too weak  
To tear our God, to spoil his Pictures seek.   

As Grapes unto the Winepress all do come,  
that come to Virtue in Faith's outward House:  
They shall be crushed with many an heavy doom  
of justice named, but most injurious:  
But, though their Pressures squize out all their blood,  
yet in God's Seller shall it find a Room,  
And there made Rose of Solace, sweet and good:  
Then, let us still be priest so priest to be;  
For, running loose, we soon run to our lee.   

The more huge Billows beat upon a Rock,  
the more they break; and so, to froth are turned;  
The while the breaker seems their spite to mock,  
that hurt themselves, not him, that so they spurned:  
So, let the spiteful spurn us while they will▪  
our Rock stands sure; while they are overturned,  
Whose blows, for us, Christ bears, or breaketh still!  
So, hurt themselves they may, but never us;  
Sith still, in him, we are victorious.   

Yet 'tis too true, some wise and wicked too  
(if possible the wi●ked may be wise)  
May, if a King will do what they bid do,  
undo a Realm with Legal Tyrannies;  
And all the guilt thereof shall still be gilded  
with guileful gloss of Conscience, most precise;  
Till all be as they would, though all be spilled:  
" For, that's but spilled that stands but on the fall  
" Of sacred Virtue, that upholdeth all.   

To carry Pagan hearts in Christian breasts,  
is no new thing, though many (new) do use it:  
" On fairest pretence the foulest purpose rests:  
yet beauty's good; but foully some abuse it:  
The heart of man so many windings hath,  
that for a Maze of skill none can refuse it;  
Sith hard it is to turn to every path.  
O Christ! wert thou on Earth as once thou wert,  
How wouldst thou, now, behypocrit man's heart?   

Such fair pretences we may well compare  
t'Egyptian Temples; fair, but most profane:  
Garnished with Gold, and Columns, rich as rare,  
in th'outward Rooms: but, if a view be ta'en  
Of th'inward, where their God is still confined,  
some loathed Viper, full of deadly Bane,  
Or Snake or Cockatrice, we there shall find:  
So, in such fair Pretence we (often) see  
The Devil himself, as GOD, adored to be.   

With Christ's plain Coat to hide vice (which enormes)  
is to disgrace the Owner: or it is  
The devils virtue, that himself transforms  
t'an Angel bright, to do the more amiss:  
But, every Age hath groaned with this Disease;  
yet never Age, for that, was eased of this,  
Groan while we will, it will us still displease:  
Then make w'a virtue of necessity;  
And, what we needs must bear, bear willingly.   

For, these; and like afflictions, still must prove,  
and purge our manners from the dross of blame;  
From Earth to wean, to God t'increase our Love;  
like Smiths Forge-water that augments the flame:  
And, pleasure is most pleasant unto those,  
that have been least acquainted with the same;  
As heavenly joys are after earthly woes:  
And, Griefs grow senseless in a virtuous Will,  
Or rather sensual; for, they ravish still!   

If in our foot, much more if in our Head,  
a thorn be thrust, our Heart, nay, Soul will grieve:  
Then fly we pleasures, as they us have fled;  
and rather wish for pains that ease might give:  
Then sith our HEAD is thorned over all,  
if we his Members be, shall we be fed  
With honeyed pleasures while he tastes but Gall?  
God shield we should: then let us only joy  
In his sowre-sweetest Cross, and his annoy.   

Moses did see him in the midst of fire,  
and fiery Thorns: and in the mount among  
Lightnings and thunderings: Daniel did aspire,  
to see his Throne, which fiery wheels did throng:  
Then shall we look for more Prerogative,  
than had these friends of God? then him we wrong  
T'expect what he, in justice, cannot give:  
For, we must see him as the others did;  
Else may we seek him, but he will be hid.   

For, as the Sires delight to have their Sons  
resemble them in favour: so it joys  
Our heavenly Sire, to see us (wayward Ones)  
like him, in patient bearing all Annoys,  
Which, for our good, his grace on us inflicts:  
for, when we bea●e what beauty quite destroys,  
(The wemmes and wounds of all his sore conflicts)  
In his fair Eyes we are most lovely, then;  
And foulest, when fairest but in the Eyes of men.   

We see a Dog, that but with crusts we feed,  
will in our quarrel fight while he can move:  
And Servants which we hire for little Meede,  
will ne'ertheless die often for our love:  
Then shall we Christians be less kind than Beasts▪  
or thankful less, than those we hire for need  
To him that gives us all that Faith requests?  
O no: no, no, it were too great a blame  
The dignity of Manhood so to shame!   

The Flower of jesse did most sweetly smell,  
and came to perfect growth upon the Cross:  
The fruit of life could not be gathered well  
without sharp Thorns that stuck unto it close:  
And Gall was tasted, in a deadly fit,  
by the best Taster; who, by his life's loss,  
wan Life to all that die in him, and it;  
And, till he rose from Death, he did not eat  
The Honeycomb; but, fed on sour meat,   

The Waters of Affliction are the streams  
whereat our heavenly Gedeon still doth try  
Who are ●it Soldiers for his wars Extremes;  
and severs such as on their Bellies lie,  
To drink as thirsting that they, full, may rise;  
from those that, for their mee●e necessity,  
Reach out their Hands to take what doth suffice:  
" Great Wealth and Virtue no agreement have,  
" Sith Virtue makes it serve her as a Slave.   

Though Prisons, of themselves, be Satan's folds,  
wherein, for slaughter, his best Sheep he keeps:  
Yet may the Cause make them the safest Holds,  
(yea, Heavens of Saints) for, though the Linnet peeps  
(When she's encaged) at every loop and Chincke,  
as longing to be gone, and often weeps  
That she's restrained; yea, leaves her meat & drink;  
Yet in the Cage she is from danger sure  
Of Fowler's Snares, and Kites that would devour.   

But those in Patience that their Souls possess,  
(while they, in bonds, do Tyrant's wrath assuage)  
The sweeter sing, the sourer their distress,  
like well-taught Linnet's used to the Cage,  
There learn they sweeter Notes than Nature gave,  
when they abroad were in their Pilgrimage;  
New exercise of Virtue, there th●y have:  
Where may we sing with Quires of Angels then,  
More free, then when most fast from mortal men?   

Then out of Prison go we, when we be  
put into Prison, so the cause be good:  
For, Liberty is but Captivity;  
that (lightly) makes more loose frail flesh & blood;  
Kings Courts; yea, Heaven itself must yield, with awe,  
t'a Prisons glory (though defiled with Mud)  
That keeps God's Servants safely for his Law.  
" A Prince's Presence makes a Coat a Court;  
" And, that Pris'n's Heaven, where Saints & Angel's sport.   

The Coriander-seede, in pieces cut,  
each piece brings forth as much as all would do:  
And so a Martyr into Prison put,  
and there first bruised, then, cut in pieces too,  
No drop of blood, no piece (though turned to mould)  
but it hath force the Devil to undo;  
And works more (often) then the Owner could:  
For, if in private jars effused Gore  
For vengeance cries; his can do that, and more!   

Of all parts of a Tree the Root seems worst:  
for, it's deformed, and most offends the sight:  
Yet, all trees virtue thence proceedeth first,  
stem, branch, & leaves, flowers, fruit; yea, life, & might  
The Root alone may challenge as her own:  
for, by the same they are both borne and nursed,  
Which in the Root (as in the womb) was sown:  
So some like Roots, being ragged in the Eye,  
Dying for Christ, makes Christians multiply.   

Some Trees there are, that, if their Rind be rend,  
cut, pricked, or braized, a precious Balm it bleeds,  
In sight and savour fair and redolent:  
but neither yields, till outward it proceeds:  
So, Martyrs when their Flesh is gashed or torn,  
out flows the Balm that cures their own misdeeds,  
And others heals, that (so) to Virtue turn:  
This balm's so sweet that it the World perfumes,  
Whereby the Pagan Christ's sweet Name assumes.   

The Roses sweetness, if untouched it be,  
soon with the leaves doth wither quite away;  
But by the Fire when it is stilled, we see  
it yield sweet juice that hardly will decay:  
Nay, more; the Leaves so baked into a Cake,  
do long make sweet both where they lie, or lay;  
And all that neighbours them, most sweet do make:  
The leaves, so parched, delighting still the Nose,  
Immortal makes the Sweetness of the Rose.   

So, Martyrs sweetly live, with Brambles keen,  
sith in their conversation they are pure;  
Yet few can see it, sith they live unseen:  
but still from worldly Comforts make them sure,  
Bolt them, nay, bray or burn them if you will  
then will their virtue sweetly all allure:  
And Heaven and Earth with divine savour fill:  
Had they, by Nature, died, their leaf nor juice  
Had not been half so sweet, nor meet for use.   

Dark is the Water in the Airy Clouds,  
yet that, the Rose and Lily brings to light,  
Mantling the Earth with all that Nature shrouds  
within her bowels ere the Waters light:  
What are these Clouds (of which the Psalmist sings)  
but Clouds of Witnesses (as black as bright?)  
Grave Martyrs that give Truth true witnessings:  
Their Blood the Water: and when out it pours  
The Time looks black, but Saints spring with the showers.   

With blood the Church's Bud came forth at first,  
as earnest of the fruits she was to bear;  
Who was no sooner'spoused unto Christ,  
but in their blood her Infants drowned were,  
To show her future throws in bearing young:  
your years (sweet Lambs) could not believe nor fear;  
But yet your flesh could die to right Faiths wrong:  
Thus did the Church as soon as she was wed,  
With chastest blood forego her Virgin-hed.   

Then to our blood the Gates of Heaven fly open;  
and, with our blood Hell-fire's extinguished:  
Our Body's blood doth scour our Souls like Soap;  
and with our blood our body's honoured:  
The Devil shamed, and God glorified:  
for when, in Truth's defence, the same is shed,  
It makes our deeds most glorious in it died:  
The seed of Virtue, and the bane of Vice  
Is blood so shed:" No price to'a bloody PRICE!   

The resurrection of Truth, Faith and Fame,  
did flourish most when soaked in Martyr's Blood:  
Whose Palms with weight grow higher, & their flame  
doth wax more strong, the more it is withstood:  
Their Spice, by pounding, yieldeth sweeter sent,  
and Le's to Truth are borne down with this flood:  
Which let abroad, doth grow more violent;  
And, while it runs, it roars, and after cries  
For vengeance on their Foes, Truth's Enemies.   

With Tyrant's thunderings, Errors Cloud is cracked,  
th'enclosed light of Truth's disclosed so;  
And showers of blood (that then for Truth are wracked)  
makes Martyrs more and more on Earth to grow:  
For, still their Side by God, himself, is backed;  
they (sampson's) with their Death, do quell the foe,  
And most torment him, when they most are racked:  
then, good Cross (blessed sheep-crooke) Saints still keep  
to Christ, whose Hook thou art, to catch his Sheep.   

For, as a feat Embroderer, that hath  
a piece of Velvet brackt, t'embroder on,  
So draws his Work, that he, to hide the scathe,  
embroders richliest in that place alone:  
So▪ GOD upon the Velvet of our flesh,  
all torn in time of Persecution,  
Covers the Bracks with Beauty fair, as fresh:  
So, that the other Parts are beautified  
By those rend parts, by GOD so glorified!   

And as the Paper-mill, of rotten Rags  
ta'en from the Dunghill, by still mauling it,  
Makes so white Paper, as the filthy jags  
may now enfold the purest part of Wit,  
Or purest things that come from Heart, or Hand:  
so, we by Martyrdom, are made most fit  
(How ever base) in glory still to stand:  
And made more apt (divinely) to comprise  
Gods glorious Graces, and his Rarities.   

Though th'upper heaven doth turn (by violent sway)  
the lower, out of course, from East to West;  
Y●t, of themselves, they wheel the other way:  
(for, they, by Nature, turn from West to East)  
So, though from th' East, where Truth begins to shine,  
her Foes would force our Faith, or course, at least,  
To Errors West, where Truth doth still decline;  
Yet must we stir, as Grace and Nature moves  
Unto the East, where God our course approves.   

A Martyr's like a die, which though it fall  
this or that way, it falls no way amiss;  
It flat will lie, or cannot lie at all;  
so, Martyrs lie with Truth, where ere she is:  
They will lie level with the Earth; nay, more,  
In, or above it lie, or stand for this;  
Hang, burn, or starve, all's one; they feel no sore:  
Then when God throws at all, with them, to win,  
At every throw, he draws some others in.   

Abel he cannot be that is not taught  
true patience by the malice of a Cain:  
And happy he that like a Coal is caught  
out of Afflictions fire with God to reign  
While he is bright, and glows with Charity:  
for, whether to be white or red, in grain,  
The Church were best, is uncouth to descry:  
The Church's flowers the Rose nor Lily want,  
But both adorn, and make her triumphant.   

The martyred Body of our Lord and God  
is the main Rock from whence his Saints are hewn:  
For, from his flesh they rend are with the Rod;  
and by the renting of the Rod are known  
To be true flesh of his torn Flesh, and so  
to be his Types, by which him self is shown  
To Heathen-folke, that him desire to know:  
" O! 'tis a glory past the height of FAME,  
" To be like Christ in sufferings as in name.   

The ancient romans used, their force to try,  
t'encounter Bears and Lions; and the Scars  
That came by savage Tusks, they valued high;  
and piercings of their Paws so many Stars:  
If in vainglory they such Dents endured;  
what should we do in Christ, our Captains, Wars,  
Being of true glory, for our fight, assured?  
We should (with Patience armed) encounter death;  
And, for that gain, with torment, lose our breath.   

Shall Saints fear Men, whom Angels ought to fear;  
for, Saints shall judge the Angels; and, the F●end  
Hath cause to fear them; for, they rule do bear,  
over his Legions; yea▪ his Forces rend:  
The World should likewise fear them sith the Saints  
shall, with heavens Umpire, judge it in the end;  
Than he that at his threats, or torments, faints  
Can be no Saint; but must be Judged of them  
(A Coward) to foul shame, and pains extreme.   

Elias must not fear, nor fear disguise,  
to let the Mantle of his flesh to fall,  
To fly in Coach, ●lame-wing'd; to Paradise:  
Gedeon must break his earthly Pots, sith all  
Their Light's so seen to put his foes to flight:  
joseph must leave his Cloak, or else he shall  
Be moved to wrong his Master in his right:  
" Life leads to Care; but, Death to Comfort leads:  
" Than Death, in Zion's cause, in Zion treads.   

At Sea, decays the sailor; in his Tent,  
the venturous S●uldier; in the Court decays  
The virtuous Courtier; justice, in judgement;  
true Faith, in Friendship; Skill, in Arts Assays;  
In Manners, Discipline: so, we, alone,  
(that, dying, live in these too nightly days)  
Under the ruins of the World do groan:  
All is quite or ●erlesse; which doth portend  
The World, with us, is even at an end.   

And o what should I say, when Courage makes  
the Cause nor good nor bad; for, Falsehoods Friends  
Have died in Errors cause, at flaming Stakes,  
as stout as Martyrs in their constant ends?  
Witness that Legate, sent from Powers beneath,  
who late in Smithfield, Error so defends,  
That he outfaced Truth, men, flames, dread & death:  
And Anabaptists there for Error stood,  
A● stout as those that, for truth, lost their blood.   

But, Legate, though thou canst no answer yield,  
yet let me question thee as many do  
Question the dead for Error which they held;  
tell me, who gave thy false Faith Courage too,  
That thou for Error shouldst so stoutly burn,  
for Error that must needs thy Soul undo,  
If, on the Coals from it, she did not turn?  
Can Satan counterfeit our GOD so nigh  
In's Gifts, that men, for him, should stoutly die?   

But thou mightst answer; Faith, though false it be,  
yet, if the Soul persuaded be its true?  
Upon the Heart it worketh morrally,  
as Faith doth, which to Heavenly Truth is due:  
This made the Priests of Baal their flesh to wound;  
and many Indians sense of pain subdue;  
Yea, burn with those, whose Faith, th●y hope, was sound:  
Then not to suffer much; nor Constancy  
Proves Error, Truth, which fire's too cold to try.   

Then Truth must try herself by reason and Faith;  
but, where Faith bids believe, reason still must be  
Obedient to believe what ere she saith;  
though she say, Three are One, and One is Three:  
A Maid's a Mother, that a Man had wived:  
true God, unmade, made true Man, really:  
And that the Dead shall rise, as here they lived:  
All this, and more, of Faith, must reason believe;  
But God (the Fount of reason) this Faith must give.   

Death is the worst of Ills, yet best to those  
that die for Faith well tried: and who they be  
The Conscience of the Dyers never knows,  
if with the Rules of Faith they disagree:  
Then God knows who are his: and Men may know  
that all are his, his ●reest Spirit doth free  
From life, by death be't violent quick or slow:  
A Saint as Man, may sear and faint in death,  
As Christ did (dying) ere he yielded Breath.   

Let this Cup pass, was Terrors proper voice,  
yet uttered by our saviours sacred Tongue:  
Our flesh (he took) annoyed, did make that noise,  
fore-feeling it should be with Torments stung.  
My God, my God, why hast forsaken me?  
unto our Flesh entirely did belong;  
Then may true Martyrs in Death drooping be  
With sense of pain; but God, that gave them strength  
To stand to him, through him, prevails at length.   

For, 'tis not hard when God's soft comforts cheer  
our Soul to suffer, torments to endure;  
But when such favours are turned all to fear,  
and in distress of Mind to hold us sure  
To God, and for him all annoys to bear;  
that is a Miracle performed by Grace,  
Past Nature's best performance; and is dear  
Unto the Donor; then, who doth the same  
Goes strait to glory through Afflictions flame●   

For, Works of justice we should rather do  
than those of Grace: now justice wils that we  
In Truth's defence should die, with torment too,  
though Grace, to us, a stranger seem to be:  
" Obedience far excelleth Sacrifice;  
the first, is duty, in the highest degree;  
The other, in our Wills Devotion lies;  
Then courage in our Death is no true Sign  
Of life elsewhere, without the Cause divine.   

For, through Vainglory some in Death have seemed  
as bravely resolute, as Saints have been:  
Nay, oft the first have been the better deemed  
by outward-sight, that seeth nought within:  
Leaena being but a Curtezan●  
tiring her Tortures, though she died for sin,  
Spat out her Tongue, that to accuse began:  
And many more, of like sure, so have died:  
Then, by brave dy'ing, plain Truth's not justified.   

But die they how they can that die for Truth,  
they stoutly die, sith they die willingly;  
But much more they that die in sportful youth;  
& though Death's ugliest face may daunt their eye  
When they behold him; yet, if they endure  
that fear, and pain, which after they must try,  
They stoutly die, though saint be all their power;  
Nay, more they do, sith they so little can;  
" Flesh is but mire, the Mind doth make the man..   

But see what ends the Tyrants erst have made,  
that of God's Saints made ceaseless Butchery:  
Nero, the chief, that first did them invade,  
in his own blood his murdering hands did die,  
And while he bled his last, he (crying) said;  
Foully I lived, and die more filthily:  
Thus, for his pains, in paining, he was paid:  
Domitian, by his Servants being slain,  
For doing like, the like reward did gain.   

Fell Maximinus, with his Sons, was brought  
to self same issue: Decius, with his Fry,  
Incurred the like: Valerianus, caught  
by him that swayed the Persian Monarchy,  
Was caged in Iron, more fast than Lions are,  
who, in the end, being flaid, died wretchedly;  
But Dioclesian worst of all did far:  
For, he fell mad; ●o, made himself away,  
While fire from Heaven his House did level lay.   

So of the like, in life, and their Degrees,  
I● might count many dire and awful deaths;  
All drank God's vengeance Vials to the lees:  
&, in their blood overwhelmed, they lost their breaths  
For, God unsting such angry Wasps and Bees,  
sith each their Stings in Saints too often sheaths:  
" God burns his Rods when he hath paid his fees:  
Yet Stings of spite, in th'Head of Power, with wit,  
Can sting the World to death, if Heaven permit.   

But howsoe'er th' Almighty throws his Rods  
into the fire, when he his Ire doth cease;  
Yet, oft the scurged fall to greater odds  
with Goodness, than before: The Church's peace  
Makes her more loose than when she's bound to fight  
(uncessantly) with foes that her disease;  
" For, they live wrong that rest to much in Right,  
" metal (though Silver) resting long unscoured,  
" Will canker; or, with filth, be quite obscured.   

For (ah) this Witch (the World) with pleasing charms  
so lullabies our Sense in soft delights,  
That though we be, upon our guard, in arms,  
yet we are taken in our Appetites;  
And made to serve the Devil, and our Flesh  
in strictest Bondage; while their Parasites,  
Sinne-soothing Pleasures, do our Sense refresh,  
To serve them with the more alacrity;  
So, ●lee le's Grace our Sense to mortify.    

A Parable.  

We ' are like a Man chaste by a raged Bull,  
who in his flight into a Well do●h fall;  
And, in the fall (by chance) he lighteth full  
upon a Tree, that there grows in the Wall:  
And, resting there, there sets his Souls delight:  
but looking better on the place, withal,  
He spies two Mice, one black, the other White,  
Who still the Root of this his rest do gnaw,  
And more and more asunder it do saw.   

Then, underneath he looks, and there espies  
a gaping Dragon threatening to devour him:  
And at his feet four striving Serpents rise;  
yet, looking up, he spies (what doth allure him;  
And makes him deem, he is from dangers free)  
a little Honey (which he ever tries)  
Cleaves to a branch of that untrusty Tree:  
For which, these dangers he neglects; and still  
That honey sicks, yet ne'er can lick his fill.    

The Moral.  

The Bull, is Death; the World, the Well; the Tree,  
our time of life; the white Mouse and the black,  
The Day and night: the striving Adders be  
the Elements, that strive us still to wrack:  
The Devil, the Dragon: and, the Honey is  
our whitest Pleasures, that are lined with black;  
And, black within, for loss of Glories Bliss:  
Who, therefore, would not deem that man were mad  
That in such dreadful dangers can be glad?   

What comfort can we have then, in a place  
that's by the Prince of darkness governed?  
Where every thing is in a cursed case;  
and, by God's foes and goodmen's, peopled:  
Where Pains be ri●e, extreme, and infinite;  
but Pleasures few, and false, frail, dull, and dead,  
Which, at the best, at least, do vex the spirit:  
Where Plenties full of peril; Want, of woes;  
And (in a word) where all, that ill is, flows.   

Then, cast we off these pleasures, that but cast  
a mist before our Eyes, and mock our Sense:  
But let us hug those pains, and hold them fast,  
that bring eternal joys for recompense:  
Now, if this Potion work not in sicke-mindes,  
at point of death is their Intelligence;  
Nay, Death the power of all their forces binds:  
In few: Great things by greatest minds are sought:  
The small but seek for shades, the shells of Nought.    

To attain a quiet Life.  

WHo would in quiet spend his life,  
must shun the Cause of strifes Effect;  
And yet with Vice still live in strife:  
so, Strife retain, and it reject.   

1  
Hold no Conceit against that Conceit  
the King maintains; unless it be  
Against that Faith, whose form and weight  
with TRUTH, well tried, doth still agree.   

2  
Find never Fault, but when the same  
concerns the Honour of the Highest:  
Or else the Kings; to hear whose blame,  
is blame which oft to Death is nigh'st.   

3  
No Wager lay: for, that but stirs  
the Losers heart to hate and ire;  
Which oft inflameth Civill-warres:  
then, give no Fuel to this Fire.   

4  
Nor make Comparison: for it  
is odious; and, works like effect:  
Why should thy Will, t'advance thy Wit,  
another's Wit or Worth deject.   

To praise thyself, is but Dispraise,  
unless Spite wrongs thine Honour (known)  
If others Shame thy Glory raise,  
let their Shame raise it, not thine own:   

For, 'tis but Shame, to glory in  
another's Shame, because we yet  
Are free from blot: but Praise we win  
by hiding both our praise and it.  
This is the way to earthly Peace;  
Without which grows all strifes increase.    

A Cordial to cheer the Heart under the Cross of Confinement: written to a great Lord, once a perpetual Prisoner.  

WHile yet thou liest in Afflictions fire,  
more bright to make thee, and increase thy worth,  
From mine Inventions Mud, I send this Mire,  
to cast upon the flames, if they break forth.   

Then, deign t'accept (unhappy-happy Lord)  
this Muddy Stuffe, my creeping Muses Meat;  
The rather, sith some ease it may afford  
in plaistring Patience if it scorch with Heat▪   

For, greatest Spirits do greatest Passion feel  
in bearing Crosses, though but small they be;  
But under great, great Men do weakly reel,  
though greatest Men from weakness should be free.   

But thou (to thy true glory be it said)  
dost cross expectance, bearing so thy Cross,  
As those that are by Hands of Angels stayed;  
so, drawest much winning out of little loss!   

For, Liberty to lose, or terrene trash,  
(the Mind being free) is better lost than found;  
Which oft, on Waves of Weal, their Owners dash  
on Rocks unseen, which either part confound.   

Now being thus stayed, thou canst not rise to fall,  
Fortune hath bruised thee, but on Safeties Base;  
That now thou canst no longer be her Ball,  
to strike thee in Life's Hazard, for her Chase.   

Now mayst thou sit securely where thou art,  
and see (unseen) the World's revolving still;  
And how men live by industry, or Art;  
and what events ensue the greatest skill.   

So sitting, bound to Safeties Shore, at ease,  
thou mayst with ioyfull-Sorrow freely see  
How other Folk are tossed on Dangers Seas,  
as they that bear the highest Sails still be.   

Now on the top of some proud Billow borne  
as high as Heaven (while Billow-like they swell)  
Then, by a Crosse-Sea is that Billow torn  
being at the highest; so, strait they sink to Hell.   

And they that have the Wind and Tide at will,  
each Moment fear the Wind may turn about;  
And so their good is never free from ill,  
because their Hopes are ever bound to doubt.   

But now thy Will (familiar with thy Cross,  
all Storms of Passions being overblown)  
Hath ever calms that never threaten Loss,  
that more than now, thou ne'er didst hold thine own.   

Now Mischief cannot see thee, though she would  
look ne'er so narrowly to glance at thee:  
For, thou art hid in Britain's strongest HOLD,  
where safe thou hold'st thyself and thy degree.   

And some that Life immured, would have to choose,  
although, as monarchs, they might all control:  
As greatest Charleses his Empire did refuse,  
and shut his Body up, t'enlarge his Soul.   

For, that great Priest of Hyppo held but right;  
who rather out of Hell his GOD would see,  
Than be in highest Heaven, and miss that sight;  
then Bondage, with that Sight's divinely free!   

And long I wish (great Lord) thou mayst be so;  
(though short I wish thy Troubles) and that God  
That hath perhaps t'vplift thee, brought thee low,  
will make a Staff of that that was thy Rod.   

The Hearts of all, in his all-holding HAND,  
he wields at will, and Patience will requite;  
Then, thy Commander's Heart he may command,  
(in time) sun-like, to fill thy Moon with light.   

Then, when thou hast regained this Comforts Sun,  
thou w●ll mayst say (as some have said of yore)  
" Th' hadst been undone, hadst thou not been undone  
sith then thy Moon shines fuller than before.   

For, e'en as when the Moon is at the full,  
she from the Sun is most remote we see:  
So, in thy Wane (perhaps) this Sun may pull  
thee to him near, to light thy Heart, and thee.   

That so it may I'll pray; and pray that thou  
mayst Grace attract by virtue of thy Grace;  
Meek Patience can the Heart of highness bow,  
and make self Wrath to show a cheerful Face.   

For, when our lives do please the Lord of Life,  
he'll make our greatest Foes our greatest Friends:  
Then shall our Troubles cut the Throat of Strife,  
and make our peace to make our pains amends.   

Long life is promised those that live aright,  
then mayst thou all disfavours overlive:  
" Patience o'er-comes what nought o'ercomes by might,  
e'en God himself, & makes him to forgive.   

But say the worst should hap (which haps the best)  
that thou shouldst live and die in state confined,  
Thy state's most blessed, sith so little blest  
with Freedom, that to Earth enthralls the Mind.   

Yet Liberty thou hast as large and free  
as highest Virtue (Angellike) doth crave;  
For Men like Angels love with Christ to be  
in's blo●dy-sweat alone, or in his Grave.   

And, if that fellows in Affliction make  
affliction less, thou hast thy fellow- Peers  
In worse plight, whom Death did e'en forsake,  
that they might live with thee to ease thy Cares.   

" A goodman's state scorns pity howsoever:  
for, though it be engulphed in deep'st distress,  
Yet his high Virtue him aloft doth rear,  
that no Calamity can him oppress.   

And though he be cooped up in Little-ease,  
his spacious Mind to him a Kingdom is;  
Wherein he wanders Worlds that most do please●  
for, Heaven and Earth holds that great Mind of his!   

While in his Conscience Theatre is played  
the Comedy twixt his Souls Spouse and her,  
How can his Soul but wander all unstaid  
through worlds of joy, although he cannot stir!   

When as a Caesar (in all liberty)  
bathing in Pleasures, or more sanguine Streams,  
Upon the Rack of Conscience bound, doth die  
extremest Deaths, in midst of Sports extremes!   

O didst thou know some poor spirits Ravishments,  
when as (entranced) they feel unbounded Bliss,  
Crowns thou wouldst loath, as crossing those contents,  
and let the Cross quite break thy Back for this!   

It is not; no, it is not high estate  
hath highest Pleasure; but it's only those,  
That, for those Pleasures, fading pleasures hate:  
" but they in Hell, no other Heaven suppose.   

While outward Comforts compass us about  
in Griefs pursuit, we to those Comforts fly;  
But when they break the King, we strait run out,  
to find more fised joys, or (joyless) die.   

Then is that sour Affliction highly blest  
that more Perfection brings (like Ligatures,  
That hurt to heal, and wring but for our rest  
so, they are blest whom Walls from wrack immures   

We Prisoners are within Heavens outward Walls,  
and are, by Nature, all condemned to die;  
To Death we must, when Death (our Headsman) calls,  
some to die gently; some, more violently.   

And though our Prison be as wish we would,  
and may, perhaps, therein go where we will,  
Yet (like the strucken Fish) we are in hold;  
and are in hold to him that sure will kill.   

But here's the odds; those in close-prison penned,  
are there with Death much more familiar made;  
So that, in favour, he their griefs doth end  
for endless joys and peace which cannot fade!   

But, those that (loosely) have the World at will,  
do take their swinge, as Fish (if hanged) desire,  
Till they be tired with Pleasure, paining still,  
then gently come to Hand; so, to the Fire.   

And see how those that (care consumed) do climb  
at Sternes of State (still menaced to be riu'n)  
How public Toils engross their private time,  
that they can scarce a Moment spare for Heaven.   

And public Persons (if they mighty be)  
the public state, and theirs, they still must eye:  
So, to their Souls they scarce have time to s●e;  
which, so neglected, oft unwares do die.   

Then (noble Lord) if in thyself confined,  
thou art most happy thus confined to be:  
And sith our Bodies do but jail our Mind,  
while we have Bodies, we can ne'er be free.   

Then, if thou weighest the volubility,  
of Time or Favour, Fortune, or this ALL,  
Thou wilt but loath their loose uncertainty:  
for, hardly Aught doth rise, but soon to fall.   

Who ruled this Realm three thousand years agone?  
so many ruled it since, that none doth know.  
" A Ploughman's blood, in time, ascends a Throne;  
" And Royal Blood descends unto the Blow.   

Yet, that King knows not from the Cart he came;  
much less that Carter knows he came from Kings:  
" But Times vicissitude is Fortune's game,  
whose Rest puts up and down all eathly Things!   

Then if we look on Life; how frail is that?  
resembled to a shadow of a Dream;  
To smoke, t'a thought, to nought, t'I wot not what,  
far less than nought, that can so much as seem!   

A Grape-seede one, an Hair another spills:  
some Smoke doth choke; mere nee●ing some destroy:  
Some other Choler; and, some laughter kills:  
some fear; & (which is strange) some die with joy!   

So that when our last Grain, is running out,  
no Grain so small but turns our flesh to dust;  
Be we as Giants, strong; as Lions, stout;  
all's less than nothing, then to nought we must.   

The Grave (too like a jerfe) doth nought but fill  
his greedy paunch, & strait out-straines the same:  
Then fill again, than strains; then fill it still,  
till it all Flesh consumes that Nature frames.   

One rots therein to give another place;  
a second to a third, and so, forth on:  
Till Earth yield up her dead; and she embrace,  
her funeral flame to lea●e Corruption.   

Then, sith that Life and Flesh so soon decay,  
why should our flesh with life be long in love?  
This world is but an Inn; this Life, a Way;  
(a wrackful way) that Wisdom loathes to prove.   

Which hath, of yore, made Kings to quit their Crowne●  
the lighter, so, the Way of life to run:  
Directed, by the Cross (o'er Dales and Downs)  
in private Paths, the public Toils to shun.   

We (like to Fools or Babes) for Babbles long,  
wherewith we hurt ourselves and others oft;  
Yet strait we whine if they from us be wrong,  
our Natures, towards Folly, are so soft.   

But our all-wise-celestiall-loving Sire  
takes, or keeps from his Children which he loves,  
All that may harm them, though they it desire,  
but gives, though it displease them, what behoves.   

Some long for State, and what is that but strife,  
more full of trouble, than it is of State;  
(With dangers mixed) a simple Hell of life;  
which none do love, but those that rest do hate?   

Some love to bear the most imbrued Swords  
before the Majesty of Victory;  
And what are they but Butchers made of Lords,  
that (like fiends) Lord it o'er Calamity?   

Some hidden Arts do openly desire  
and seek for knowledge only to be known;  
But knowledge such, is light but of hell-fire,  
to see (with Eve) such Pride's confusion.   

Some fame affect, and for it venture far,  
seeking by Sea and Land the same find;  
" But Fame most follows those that flee from her;  
and, oft who meets her, she o'erthrowes with wind.   

In summe● both all and some (o strangest Case!)  
have hurtful humours; which (if not restrained  
By him that is the Lord of power, and Grace)  
all would to nought, where Grace should ne'er 〈◊〉 gained.   

Then, if our Flesh and Sinne-corrupted Bloods  
could rightly feel, they well might see th●t Hand  
That made us, will not mar us with his goods;  
unless ourselves his powerful Grace withstand.   

Our dearest Sense is Sight; yet if the same  
offend that Grace, we must pull out our Eyes:  
Then must we Limbs, of less account, unframe,  
much more Things less, if they against It rise.   

" The greatest Cross is never to be crossed;  
" the Way to Heaven is by the Ports of Hell;  
" The Waters most corrupt, that least are tossed;  
" and their account exceeds, who most excel!   

he's rich enough for virtues choicest friend,  
that neither needs to flatter, nor to borrow:  
To lad our Backs with Baggage till they bend  
(wandering in stumbling-wayes) augments our sorrow.   

" Abundance is a Burden to the Soul,  
and strongest Souls can hardly it abide:  
For, Men that, being mean, could Pride, control,  
being mighty made, are most controlled by Pride.   

Nature's sufficed with Nothing, in respect  
of that our Wolfe-like Appetites require;  
And they as Naturals great-men reject,  
whose Souls have not the power of great Desire.   

" But greatest Men have not still greatest Grace;  
(ah would they had, then shouldst thou soon be free  
From thy restraint) and all desires are base  
of Greatness, that with Goodness disagree.   

I wade too far (perhaps) in Dangers Deeps,  
that may overwhelm the rash, though ne'er so tall;  
But Truth's my Guide; and, Care my Footing keeps  
on double Duties Ground, and firm in all!   

Yet wot how ill it stands with Policy,  
to fancy those whom Times disfavour most;  
Sith Fancies such, acquire but jealousy  
(if not much worse) of those that rule the Roste.   

For, Wisemen shift their Sails as Wind doth shift,  
and, but whom Fortune favours, favour none:  
For, if Kings have with Fortune been at shrift,  
they leave them to their Penance post alone.   

But I conceive it a prodigious Sin,  
(like that of judas (Peter I would say)  
Who left his Lord when trouble he was in,  
which (in effect) is merely to betray.   

I fear not justice, sith she doth command,  
that we should love our friends in spite of Fate;  
And, to the Altar, with them go or stand,  
though we might (therefore) be o'erthrown with hate.   

Then justice warrants me in what I do;  
and I will do but what selfe-Iustice would:  
That's love my Liege, obey and serve him too;  
yet love that Lord that likes me as I should.   

Let him have never friend that leaves his friend,  
in show of sound affection, in distress:  
And let highest Wit to lowest Hell descend,  
that weighs aught more than some friend's heaviness.   

Let those that wait on Fortune weigh the Times  
in Scoles of greatest Skulls, I, little i,  
Do little weigh the ways how other climbs,  
sith I would live as longing well to die.   

Beyond my Birth, hath Fortune been my foe,  
she never yet so much as smiled on me;  
No force, sith I myself the better know;  
and see the World while me it doth not see.   

Fear they her frowns, that care but for her fawns;  
I fear, nor care for neither: (being white  
With Cares and Fears) for my Grave open yawns  
to swallow me to save me, from her spite.   

Enough (great Lord) my Proheme is a Feast,  
whereat my Muse doth surfeit with sowre-sweetes;  
Hard to receive, and harder to digest,  
where love and rashness, Rhyme and Reason meets;  
But if they meet with Grief that meets with thee,  
I grieve with joy: for, thou art fast and free.    

A Dump, or Swans-song.  

ALl in a gloomy shade of Sicamour,  
that did his leaves extend (like Shields) to bear,  
The Beams of Phoebus, darted in his power,  
at those that underneath them shrouded were)   

ay me reposed, while my Thoughts did range  
here, there, & every where, where thoughts might roam;  
So, by their change at last, my latest change  
became their Subject, with my latest Home.   

And when, with Travel, they themselves had tired,  
I likewise tired with life (that stirred them) too,  
Thus flashed I out, (with sacred fury fired)  
and my thoughts Bottom thus did I undo.   

Why long I longer here to live in death?  
for life, if mortal, dieth all the while:  
Being but a puff, but of the weakest Breath;  
yet, blows me (Weakness) into strong Exile.   

As soon as borne, was I condemned to die;  
since when, Time hath but executed me;  
Yet life prolongs in dying misery;  
so, yet I am as those that dying be.   

To him that gave me life, a death I owe;  
which, sith I can, I must, and shall repay:  
His power's as great to take as to bestow;  
then will I pay him, though I quite decay.   

ay, dead in Sin, his only Son he slew,  
to please his justice, and to make me live:  
Sith me he bought, I'll give him then his due;  
which had, I have much more than that I give.   

Death soon will rid me from this life's annoys,  
(Annoys that nought can rid, save death, from life)  
And put me in possession of those joys,  
that are as far from end, as free from strife!   

And were't not madness to repine, that I  
had not had life when Eve did Adam wive?  
Then, 'tis but all alike to live, and die;  
as 'tis, Not to have lived, and not to live.   

Then, life IS not, that not immortal is;  
for, mortal life is but Deaths other name:  
Nor is that Bliss, that is not fearless Bliss;  
nor glory, that is subject still to shame.   

The Days of Heaven are dateless; sith the Sun  
that makes them such, doth neither set nor rise;  
But stands (as it shall, doth, and still hath done)  
fixed in the Noonestead of ETERNITY'S.   

Here one's the ruin of another Day,  
while (like a ne'er-suffized Grave) the Night,  
Doth bury both in silence; yet, doth prey  
upon them both, till both play least in sight.   

" Death is the door of life: so, would I live?  
then, through this door to life, I needs must go:  
For, through this door Death, LIFE itself did drive:  
then, sith LIFE died for life, I must do so.   

Two only had the privilege to wend  
another way to life that mortals were,  
But 'twas in fiery- Charets, to this end,  
that Fire should flesh refine, ere it came there▪   

There, where all joys, united, are of force  
(for, force united, stronger makes the same)  
The spirit and flesh (both ravished) to divorce,  
and melt their powers in loves eternal flame.   

What Lets shall let me then, from Paradise?  
Mountains of Gold, and Rocks of rarest stone,  
Crossing my Way, I (trampling) will despise,  
if thither Hope but go with me alone.   

This WORLD's a Vale that ceaseless tears do spoil;  
and make it so a Bog, or loathsome Lake:  
Then who but Swine (that pleasure take in Soil)  
will here (if they can choose) abiding make?   

Heaven is my Home; the HIGHEST, my Father is;  
his SON, my Brother; Angels, are my Friends:  
Then while from Them I am, I am amiss;  
and, lightly, miss the Means to so good Ends.   

My Body's but the Prison of my Soul;  
which straits her more, the more that Prison's free:  
Time's but the Rock that up my Life doth roll;  
and Earth the Place where Heaven spins it & me.   

Here must I fight till Death for endless Life;  
" The Chariot of my Triumph then, is Death:  
Then (as I would be free from endless strife)  
to mount this Chariot I must spend my Breath.   

The ground whereon I tread's the ground of Grie●e;  
so that each step doth grieve me: for it is  
A Sanguine-field, that beareth Hurts, in chief,  
crossed with sinister-bends; and All amiss.   

Then here to be, amiss is to be borne  
in Dolours Field, to every foul Disgrace:  
O Death then help my Souls house to adorn;  
and let thine Arms be mine; for, lives are base.   

Am I not dirt and dust? then, marvel is't  
if I, but with a thought, be that or this?  
A shadow by some substance, doth subsist:  
but, all my substance, but a shadow is.   

The Sun doth rise and set; the Moon doth hold  
a constant course in most unconstant state:  
The Earth now quick with heat, then dead with cold,  
doth show their plight that It preambulate.   

Then o ye Saints (whose Bellies being rife  
with Waters both of life and grace) be ye  
Pure Aquaducts, by, life, to bring me life  
from the Wellhead, that fill may you and me.   

The Grave (though wide it gape) dismays me not,  
sith 'tis the Gate of glory, rest, and peace:  
And though therein my mortal Part must rot,  
yet thence it springs with much more fair increase.   

If the last breath we call our Bodies death,  
then may we call the other Breathe death's;  
Sith Life and death do come and go with Breath,  
we have as many deaths, as we have breaths.   

Yet, twixt this life, and that we death do call;  
this odds there is; while life doth last, we die:  
But when Death comes, we die no more; but shall  
by dying well, live well immortally.   

O then, look how the Labourer for Night;  
the Pilot, for the Port; and for the Inn  
The Post doth long: so doth my tired sprite  
(by death) still long for Life, and rest therein.   

Death is my Hope: than fear not I his knife;  
Fear is his Sting; but, Hope hath pulled it out;  
The mortalest Wounds, immortal make my life:  
then, better die in Hope, then live in Doubt.   

If Death be painful; then, is pain sustained  
before, or, at the Article of Death:  
But not before: for then, but thought is pained;  
and at the instant it's but rest of breath.   

So that in Death, is rest without disease:  
then Death be kind, and rest my life in thee:  
While others, (that do cast such sums as these)  
these Ciphers sum, decyph'ring thee and me.   

And, Ciphers cast life's Ciphers to, and fro,  
that I their number (seen) may multiply:  
Take nought from Nought, & nought remains; & so,  
the sum of All is less than vanity.   

Ciphers (not Numbers) call I them, because  
they run (sans number) roundly to the Grave:  
At which my Muse, being now arrived, shall pau●e;  
referring these to those that Science have  
To cast up life's account; and to forecast  
the strictness of Life's great account at last.     

ESSAYS.  

The Fool hath said in his heart, there is no God. Psal. 14.1.  

THat GOD IS, no Man ever made a doubt;  
if doubt some did, they did it not as Men:  
For, faithless men, by mere sense, GOD find out:  
what are these senseless God-deniers then?   

They are not Fiends; for, they have human Souls;  
and Fiends confess, with fear, there is a GOD:  
Much less, not Angels, Beasts, nor Fish, nor Fowls,  
for, these praise God What then? e'en their own Rod.  
Who do themselves, tormentingly, confound;  
hardening their Hearts; and, so, plague Sin by Sin:  
Yet joy in that which doth their Conscience wound:  
is't possible such Creatures ere have been?  
It's possible, for, such there be, God wot,  
That know not God, because God knows them not.    

No pleasure to the pleasure of the Spirit.  

TWo joys there are, whereof, the one is not;  
of Fl●sh the one, that other of the Spirit:  
The Spirits joy is real, active, hot;  
but, that of flesh, is vain, cold, dull and light.   

How then can they be two, if but one Be?  
one is; but is, but merely in Conceit:  
Which in Conceit, is forged by Fantazie;  
and whatsoe'er is forged, is but deceit.   

Yet in this mere deceit, most men conceive  
most pleasure to consist; and, it to buy,  
They most essential perfect pleasure; give:  
so, make their judgement give their Sense the lie:  
For, Sense could never tell, by her Receipt,  
That such joy Is, that is but in conceit.    

Vanity of Vanities, all is but Vanity. Eccles. 1.2.  

A Mortal Eye can see but mortal Things;  
and whatsoe'er is mortal, is but vain:  
Then all we see is vain, though Crowns, or Kings;  
yet Men will lose themselves, the same to gain.   

And yet, thy ween, they win by so great loss;  
o corrupt judgement! Men made to be lost:  
Who will all Vices (hatched in Hell) engross,  
them to retail, to get but Care, with Cost.   

It's said, Light gain doth make an heavy Purse;  
but, this light gain doth make an heavy Heart:  
To gain all blessings, with God's heavy Curse,  
is too light gain for such an heavy Thwart:  
For, who doth purchase All at such a Price,  
Doth buy but extreme Vanity with Vice.    

Fly vain Pleasures, as Pains intolerable.  

IF Vanity be All, and All be vain,  
how escapes he from this All, that's All in All?  
It is, because He ever doth remain,  
the Cause of Causes metaphysical.   

Sith fiends immortal are, not vain they are:  
for Vanity is but the Instrument  
Wherewith, in sport, they do this All ensnare,  
to bring the same to Be as they are bend.   

And, so, unbend their being, and, distort  
the even Compass that became their Form:  
So Vanity them backward bends, in sport;  
and, Satan still, in sport, doth them deform:  
O then let All that would be bend aright,  
Beware these sports, that do distort them quite.    

To the good, the Worst falls out for the Best.  

THe Cross and Crown, on Earth, our value try;  
as Crowns alone, in Heaven, our virtue crown:  
In Earth, if crowned, we swell in Heart too high,  
and, under Crosses we lie basely down.   

But yet, if Grace do Nature oversway,  
and that a Cross, or Crown, alike we bear,  
A pride of Grace, our Nature, will bewray;  
so, in our Nature, Sin, though dead, doth steer.  
And yet this Pride doth humble us the more;  
for when we mind it, grief doth us pursue:  
So, is our Sore still cured by our Sore;  
for, still we heal as we our grief renew:  
This, is a Work of Nature; that▪ of Grace;  
And this and that, runs with us all our Race.    

To the Lady Anne Glemmam, upon the death of her noble Father.  

TO lie down under Crosses, is to lie  
in our Confusion: for, that's Cowardice;  
And hath no taste of true Humility:  
then, such prostration is an abject Vice.   

Nor is't the Way from Crosses to be free  
to sink beneath the Cross, which weighs the more  
The more we, under it, so, humbled be;  
but HE that bore your Sins It stoutly bore.   

Yet is the Cross imposed to humble us;  
nor, is't removed, till we be humble made;  
How much more low, so much more glorious;  
(so as the Cross doth us not over-lade)  
Then if we meek be made, we win by loss;  
And cut a Crown of Glory from the Crosse.    

That to sin finally maliciously, is irremissible.  

THe oftener Sin, the more grief, shows a Saint;  
the oftener Sin, the less grief, notes a Fiend:  
But to sin oft, with grief the Soul doth taint;  
and, oft to sin with joy, the Soul doth rend.   

To sin, on Hope, is Sin most full of fear;  
to sin of malice, is the devils Sin:  
One is, that Christ may greater Burden bear;  
the other, that his Death might still begin.   

To sin, of frailty is a sin; but, weak:  
to sin, in strength, the stronger makes the blame:  
The first, the Reed, Christ bore, hath power to break;  
the last, his Thorny Crown, can scarce unframe:  
But, finally, to sin maliciously,  
Reed, Crown, nor Cross hath power to crucify!    

That mortal Life is a mortal Plague.  

THis Life, of ours, is called Life most amiss;  
which may be termed, more truly, life's disease;  
Whose perfectest Pleasures are opposed to Bliss,  
and, greatest pains grow from her greatest ease.   

One, hath the Plague, we say, and he will die,  
that yet may live; then much more may we say,  
That One hath Life, and Death he cannot fly:  
for, Life's a Sickness mortal every way.   

Doth mortal life, then, bring the mortalest death?  
then, no Disease so mortal as it is:  
A Plague of Plagues then, is our mortal breath;  
yet mortal Men would still be plagued with this:  
Though Life be Plague of Plagues, yet this desire,  
Is the highest Plague, whereto no Plagues aspire.    

Too much Honey breaks the Belly.  

SWeet honeyed Life, thinks one, that Honey drains  
from blooms of Helebo●e (this vain Worlds-wealth)  
Which, though It breaks his Belly, yet his pains  
seem, to his Appetite, true Signs of Health.   

O bewitched judgement! Senses r●ft of Sense!  
deem ye that sweet, that yields Effects so sour?  
That spoils the Will and soils th' Intelligence?  
and Soul and Body, quite, in dung, devour?   

Yet, those whose Spirits are turned to grossest flesh,  
nay, those whose flesh seems turned to purest spirit  
Are thus bewitched; which Sweets their Sense refresh;  
who sting like Wasps, if them they lose by might:  
If thus they fare by whom the World is led,  
What marvel though in sweet Sin It be dead?    

The Fool makes a mock of sin. Pro. 14.9.  

WHo laughs at Sin; for Sin can hardly weep:  
who ie●ts thereat, is mad, or misbeleeves:  
Then, sith the World still laughs at Debt so deep,  
it shows it madly sins; and never grieves.   

Sin is a Stinger; and who feels it not  
is mortified, not to, but in fowl Sins:  
Then, doth the World, in Sin, but stink and rot;  
for, it feels not when Sin ends, or beginner.   

If it do stink, what Nose can it abide?  
if it do rot, what Eye, or Taste, or Touch  
Can be content by them it should be tried?  
Then only Hearing hears it without grudge:  
And that's because the Dead, in silence, cry  
Cave to those, that, living, are to die:  
Then they that love it, in such loathsome plight,  
Have neither Sense, nor Reason, Flesh, nor sprite.    

The World is in a desperate plight, for which Christ refused to pray.  

But if the World be dead, God owes it not;  
for of the living, He is God alone:  
And, if not Gods, it is the devils Lot;  
which bounded is with the chief Cornerstone.   

From that Stone upwards, all to God belongs;  
and from it, downwards, all the Devils is:  
For, God, being just, the Devil never wrongs;  
but; lets him have his due; as He hath His.   

Then, to be Gods, is still to rest thereon:  
but who can rest there, that God doth not stay?  
Then, sith the World refused this Corner Stone,  
God, for the World, refused but to pray:  
O woeful World, how canst thou merry be,  
That so forsook'st him, that so leaveth thee?    

That all Heresies are grounded on the infallible Scriptures erroneously interpreted.  

EAch Bible-bearing Sectary will say  
he's in the Truth; and proves it by her Word:  
Thus, is the Word of Truth wrenched every way;  
and made a Text that Falsehood doth afford.   

Yet, Truth's but one, though Falshood's manifold;  
and when Truth's Saints, with her Word, do conspire  
To find her out; that Truth embrace we should,  
though we should mount to her in Coach of sire.   

No Exposition of the Truth is true,  
but what Truth makes her friends, alone, to make:  
Who know Her best, and what to Her is due;  
but, foo●es, wise in their own Eyes, both mistake:  
For many Eagles Eyes have better sight  
Then one blind Bats, that hardly see the light.    

That the Eye is Sinnnes' Burning-glasse, working upon the Heart and Soul.  

AS sin's most conversant with outward Sense;  
so is she most familiar with the Eye:  
For, she sits in the eyes Concupiscence  
as in her Throne of greatest Majesty.   

From eyes, to eyes, Sin doth, in triumph, Tilt:  
(a fiery Serpent, clad in silver Rays:)  
The end of whose Career is, where her guilt  
makes black the Soul with Dolour and Dispraise.   

Hevah first sinned: but, ere her Heart, her Eye  
did Sin commit; and all the lustful Crew  
Melt in that Sun, like Ye, until they die:  
yet, like dead Flies, those Rays, their lives renew:  
Then, sith this Sun exhales such Humours ill,  
We must with sorrows Clouds, eclipse It still.    

To take is to give; for a Gift, Liberty.  

Our Mouths run over with false Superlatives,  
in praising him, though bad, that did us good;  
Which are nought else, but true demonstratives  
of the Corruption of our basest blood.   

For, Pride can give as much as Charity:  
and Tyranny as much as Mercy can:  
But, who applauds or Pride or Tyranny,  
do Monsters praise, the Mind doth make the man..   

Then shall we take no good gifts of the ●ad?  
I say not so: and yet, I say, who will  
Take Kingdoms of the devil, are worse than mad;  
for He doth good to no man, but for ill:  
Then sith, for Gifts, M●n give their Liberty,  
Such Gifts bind Takers oft to villainy.    

Again, of the same.  

ANd yet blind justice sees h●r Sword to sheath,  
if any offer her a Sheath of Gold;  
Nay, high and hardy Hands oft sink beneath  
the abject Gift and Giver, to uphold.   

There's nought more free than gift: yet nought more ties  
the Hand, that takes them, to the Giver's will:  
And yet (●h woe therefore) some, god●y-wise,  
take Gifts, as good: and give, as gifts were ill.   

Were I a Devil, yet were I liberal,  
(in this damned Age) I would be served with Saints:  
For, if I sent bright Angels to them all,  
they would adore me, maugre all restraints:  
But, were I GOD, if Gold were not my Friend,  
Pure Saints, in show, would loath me like a Fiend.    

To him that hath, shall be given; and from him that hath not, shall be taken away, that which it semmes he hath. Mat. 25. 2●.  

HIs Word is Truth, that said, to him that hath,  
shall still be given; and, from him that lacks  
Shall be withdrawn that which he holds, with scathe;  
so, this World makes men, made; & marred men, wracks.   

Who least doth lack, hath most bestowed on him;  
for GOD and M●n give richest gifts to Kings:  
So, he that doth in all abundance swim,  
each Hand to him much more Abundance brings.   

What means this Mystery so mystical!  
what! World, beginnest thou now, with Age, to dote,  
That Thou dost give some All; some, nought at all:  
and, sink'st some, sinking, to make swimmers float?  
I know now what this means; but, this I know,  
'tis too much to be loathed, to be too low.    

Of the Neglect of Art and Virtue. To mine ingenious, dear, and well-accomplished Friend, Mr. john Sandford, of Magdalen-Colledge in Oxford.  

Go, forlorn Virtue, into Eden go;  
and, with Leaves, hide thine outward nakedness:  
Though 'tis their shame, not thine, that made thee so;  
there make Work for the Press, far from the Press.   

Tell Times to come, how much these Times neglect Thee,  
in Lines as far from death, as free from dread:  
And, make their Offsprings blush that do reject Thee;  
yea, live in shame when their Shames 'Cause is dead.   

With open Hand to All, thy Largesse throw;  
though All are too straite-handed, unto Thee:  
Make them, themselves, and thee, aright, to know;  
that in thy shining Lines they, both, may see:  
But, if they will be blind, and both still wrong,  
Eden still keep, and sing a Zion Song.    

Ye have made a mock of the counsel of the Poor. Psal. 14.10.  

THe Wisdom of the Poor, is still misprised,  
sith by their Wealth, men's Wits are valued:  
Speak he like Solomon, he's ill advised,  
say some, that understood not what he said.   

But if he be an Isis-bearing Ass,  
and speak what he himself, nor none conceives,  
His Praise shall, as his Folly doth, surpass;  
and speaks, as he no place for answer leaves.   

Yet had some Kings, some Beggars in a place,  
where he might not be seen, to use their Wit,  
(If it were Sovereign, though his state were base)  
this Sovereign would, of him, perhaps, beg It:  
Which when He vents, the People's voice is than,  
This is the voice of God, and not of Man!    

Against Fortune-tellers, commonly called, Wisemen.  

Sigh all our Knowledge from our Senses comes,  
which oft mistake, then must our Wisdom needs  
Mistake, as oft as Error over-comes  
our Knowledge, that from erring Sense proceeds.   

Then all our Wisdom must be most unsure,  
as are the grounds from whence the same doth grow;  
Yet some great Wi●● m●n hardly can endure  
that GOD should know that, which they do not know.   

And, sith they know, they know not as they ought;  
more than they ought they seem to know, at least;  
These are the● Wisemen that by Fools are sought,  
to s●ew ●u●nts to come to give them rest:  
On whom they do● bestow a Wiseman's ●ee,  
Which th●se wise Seers, only, do foresee.    

Sinful Curiosity had rather be acquainted with the Devil, then with God, or his Saints.  

Have any made a Covenant with black Hell,  
and are Familiar with infernal Sprights?  
They shall be sought to, wheresoever they dwell;  
for, many Souls desire to see those sights.   

But lives Elias (most familiar  
with GOD and Heaven) where great ones most frequent,  
He lives as in his fiery C●ach he were;  
for, none comes near so mere an Innocent.   

Thus doth the Devil Lord it o'er the Air,  
and those that most do prize It; while his slaves  
Are more sought to then Saints or Angels fair,  
though such Fiends bideing be among the graves:  
Then, what so senseless, as the World, to take  
Delight in devils, and in Hell, for their sake?    

Again, of the same.  

WEre Bacon, and that Vandermast alive, (Air)  
(if live they did where Men might draw but  
They, with a mischief, would much more than thrive;  
for, they would smothered be with men's repair.   

Some Bladuds would invest them with their Robes,  
nay, Crown them too, to learn them but to fly:  
That so they might but glide about the Globes,  
to be admired for Iack-dawes quality.   

So much Men, singularity affect,  
that to be singular, (though but in Toys)  
They'll freely give what they do most respect;  
so much their inward Man, loves outward joys:  
Nay, Men to Hell will creep from out the Crowd,  
Ere they'll be drowned in the Multitude.    

That Persecutors of Truth, are their own Tormentors.  

IF virtues Sons be plagued with Vice's Brood,  
(sith they, by Nature, still do disagree)  
It's for the vicious plague, and virtuous good;  
which both shall here, or elsewhere, shortly see.   

If our good life, our Enemy's increase,  
that bad increase, in that great good, is drowned;  
Who fight against themselves, but for our Peace;  
and, through our Weeds, their Hearts and Souls do wound!   

Our Saviour, through his Death, did Death subdue,  
to make us conquer by enduring strife:  
Then, what though They, to Death, do us pursue,  
when, through our Death, they die to give us li●e?  
But with such proofs, none but such Saints are proved  
That of his judge, in death, was feared and loved.    

The righteous, in joy or Grief, Life, or Death, GOD keeps as his Treasure.  

Fallen Malice most of her own Poison drinks;  
for them she plagues, do sip but of the top;  
But she of that, which to the Bottom sinks,  
to work in Her Perdition, without Hope.   

Impiety and Plagues are of an age;  
being burnt, not in the Hand, but in the Heart:  
For, who against the good do battle wage,  
shall perish through his power that takes their part.   

And, if, for virtue, Men are made away,  
GOD takes for sacrifice, their sufferings:  
But when, by course of Nature, they decay,  
he than receives them as Peace-offerings:  
So that in life and death, the righteous rest,  
As th' Apple of his Eye, as safe, as blest.    

That men's Devotions towards God and Goodness, are most mutable.  

NOught in our Life endures so many Turns,  
as our Devotion; off, on, in, and out;  
Now, cold as Ice, and by and by It burns,  
scarce in one mood, while we can turn about.   

If good we hear, perhaps we think thereon;  
but be it ill, ill (past perhaps) we mind:  
Thus, roll we ever, like a thriftless stone,  
till Death us stay by force, or Course of kind.   

From Sin to Sin, as Flies from sore to sore,  
we still do shift; the best Men, Men are still;  
The worst are worse than Beasts, to kill, or store;  
for, they are leave in good, but fat in ill:  
Then blest are they, that neither fat nor leave,  
Have rolled to Rest, but with the Golden-meane.    

To my most honoured and approved best Friend, and Alye, Sr. Fran: Lovel, Knight. God takes the Will for the Deed.  

ALthough we do not all the good we love,  
but still, in love, desire to do ●he same;  
Nor leave the Sins we hate; but ●●●ing, move  
our Soul and Bodies Powers their forc● to tame;   

The good we do, GOD takes as done aright;  
that we desire to do, He takes as done:  
The Sin we shun, He will with Grace requi●e;  
and not impute the Sin we seek to shun!   

But good Desires produce no worse Deeds;  
for, GOD doth both together (lightly) give:  
Because He knows a righteous Man must needs  
by Faith that works by Love, for ever live:  
then, to do nought, but only in desire,  
Is Love that burns, but burns like painted fire.    

The Virtuous, live well for virtues sake; the Vicious, for fear of Punishment.  

THree things, in judgement, have observed been,  
to wo●k with wicked ones, shame, grief, & fear:  
And yet without shame, grief, or fear, they sin,  
till judgement (strict) beginneth to appear.   

If judgement then, have force t'extort these three;  
they have no judgement, that will not prevent  
This sore Extortion, with an easy fee;  
that is, live well; if not, then, well repent.   

But are these two performed with such ease?  
God's Y●ake is easy, and his burden light:  
And such as cannot well away with these,  
can neither live well, nor repent aright:  
But if they cannot, much less can they bear,  
What judgement will extort, shame, grief, & fear.    

That there is no peace to the Wicked.  

THe Wickeds rest is like the raging Deep,  
whose smoothest Peace is rough intestine War:  
With whose Alarms they often start in sleep;  
whose Heartstrings, with such fretting Stops, do jar   

Yet as the Sea seems calm, as other Brooks,  
till Winds arise, wherewith they rage's as mad;  
So, oft the Wickedman as smoothly looks  
in prosperous state, as he whom GOD doth glad.   

And in this plight, he Saint it can aswell  
(at least in show) as can the holiest Saint:  
Yea, can (for glory) in Good-workes excel;  
and, Piety in Word and Deed depaint:  
But when Afflictions flaws begin to blow,  
He plays the Devil both in Deed and Show.    

That a vexed Conscience is the only Hell on Earth.  

THe Body's rest doth most disease the Soul,  
that is diseased with sins sorest Sting:  
For then the Thoughts about that Prick do roll,  
and to the Soul an Hell of Horror bring!   

The Mind then looking into Fancies Mirror,  
sees nothing there but Sin that sits abroode  
On grim Chimaeraes, and sights full of horror,  
so to confound the Mind, or mad her mood.   

For, when Sin only fronts the Fantasy;  
that Glass reflects these horrid Forms, by kind,  
Then, when the body most alone doth lie,  
these Monsters muster most about the Mind.  
O! Plague of plagues, when Sense nor reason can spy  
A Real Object from a Fantasy!    

Phantasie a great Comforter, or Tormenter.  

Give me jobs Botches, Naaman's Leprosy,  
nay, give me All that plagues the outward sense,  
Rather than Terrors of the Fantasy,  
crawling from out an Hell of Conscience.   

And give me all the Hells the Damned endure,  
(this Hell alone excepted) I will be  
Able to make them Heavens, in Conscience pure,  
through Operations of the Fantasy.   

Asleep, awake, in Company, alone,  
past-understanding Peace, and joys past joy,  
In our Minds Kingdom, then, themselves enthrone,  
to oversway the Pains that Flesh annoy:  
Then, is this Peace and War, true Heaven & Hell,  
Where Pain and Pleasure do themselves excel.    

A wounded Conscience, who can bear?  

Salves, Sores do cure; and Medicines, Maladies:  
Friendship, Oppression; W●sed me, poor Estate:  
Favour, Restraint; and Tim●, Captivities;  
Good life, Reproach; and loving Manners, Hate:   

But, these, nor ought else that are ●●st, or best,  
(except the Highest grace) h●u● power to cure  
A wounded spirit (with Sadness st●●l oppressed)  
but It doth Death outlive, and Hell o●● dure.   

Were our Meat, Manna, our Weeds, Salomon's;  
monarchs- our Friends; and Eden, our freehold;  
Our Guards, G●●ia●s; our Seates● highst Thrones;  
our House's Silver, hung with Pearl and Gold:  
All these, and all what else can Sense delight  
Do rather kill, than cure a wounded Spirit.    

Death makes Things appear as they are.  

Envy and Anger have some Wisemen killed;  
(though in those Passions we hold no man wise)  
As favour and base flattery Fools have spilled;  
for, with them both, we Fools do Nestorize.   

But when these moods are, with the Parties, dead,  
then, were they Fools, who were so wise while-ere:  
And, Th●y most wise that Fools were reckoned;  
thus, Death doth make Things, as they are, appear.   

Flattery adorns men's Fortunes, not the Men;  
and Envy, not their Persons, but their Fames  
Doth seek to wound: so, it appeareth then,  
that Wise nor Fools have here their proper Names:  
But in the Font of Death they do receive  
Their naked Names which their true Natures give.    

God and Conscience tells truly what we are; and are not as we seem.  

WHat thou art, ask thine heart, and it will show;  
or, ask a Foe, that Conscience makes to lie;  
But ask thou no● Self-love which cannot know:  
no●, ask a Friend, which can no ●ault espy.   

If we could see ourselves, than should we see  
that we are nothing less than what we seem;  
Yet, some seem far worse than in Deed they be;  
and therefore All, this Some do not esteem.   

For, we know nothing wholly, but in part,  
and, understand but, what we know, by Sense:  
We see the Face, but cannot see the Heart:  
then shows betray our best Intelligence:  
This makes all wise men, that such Secrets know,  
To win the World; a Shadow, with a Show.    

That Truth, being One and still the same, is made by wicked m●n to countenance falsehood, which is manifold, and still unlike.  

WHen Peace & Truth do jar, Peace is not peace:  
then, Peace, in Truth, is that we should ensue:  
Now, for this Truth, what Wars and jars increase,  
these Times do ●eele, and Aftertimes may rue.   

Yet, no Man's so unjust, that will aver,  
he fights for Falsehood; but, for Truth and Right:  
So, just, some say, is every unjust War:  
thus, Truth is made to countenance each Fight.   

Who ever yet for Heresy hath died,  
but saith, for Truth he dies, and so believes?  
Or, what Sect saith not, Truth is on their side?  
so, Truth is made a Devil, that deceives:  
But Truth is God, unmade, who, in the end,  
Will damn them all, that make him such a Fiend,    

That we are naturally bend to Ill, but supernaturally to Goodness.  

TWixt Sin and Grace, I tossed am to, and fro,  
as mine Affections please to bandy me:  
From Grace, to Sin I fly; but, back, I go;  
and yet I go as one that fain would flee.   

Nature doth move the Wings of my Desire  
to Sinne-wards nimbly; but, not so to Grace:  
For, than she limbs them with my flesh's mire,  
that I am forced to pass an heavy pace.   

Yet still I stir those Wings, and seek to break  
fail flesh's Bands; too strong, for me (too frail)  
Who though, sometimes, I fail of what I seek,  
yet seek I what I find, and never fail:  
For, none seeks Grace that hath not Grace in hold:  
Then, Seekers find, though oft less than they would.    

Abuse is familiar with human Flesh and Blood.  

MInding this World, I muse at what I mind,  
though It unworthy be of Mind or Muse:  
I muse that Men are to It so inclined,  
sith It minds nought, but how Men to abuse.   

From high to low Abuse doth proudly reign;  
from which the Priest, that leads all, is not free:  
The Holy hold the Holy in disdain,  
if with their state, their states do not agree.   

Virtue, or Vice are held or good or ill,  
as, in this World, they thrive or ill, or well:  
For, Vice is honoured more than Virtue still,  
if Vices Manors, Virtues do excel:  
If Manors good, do what good Manners ought,  
(That's make men great) great men are made of nought.    

That it is far better not Be, then to be iii.  

THe World (the Womb where all misdeeds are bred)  
breeds in my little- World such great offence,  
That my Soul, great with sin's delivered  
of Grief, that gauls my bleeding Conscience:   

The Midwife Flesh, that did the same produce,  
gives it the Nurse, cursed Nature, it to feed:  
And fattens It with full-Breasts of Abuse;  
so, Grief grows great, with Nature's gross misdeeds.   

O Nature, Nurse of my Souls foul Disgrace!  
o World, the Nurse of that Nurse (grounds of grief)  
Why do you give me being, time, and place  
sith you do worse than kill me with relief?  
For, that reli●se that doth but nourish Sin,  
Makes our Case worse, then if we ne'er had been.    

Sin and Grace cannot dwell in one place.  

IF Faith believed that Creed that Essence gives her,  
than would she give the Soul what that doth give:  
Faith's made to know, and do that which relieves her;  
for, by her active knowledge she doth live!   

But oft the Soul (though Faith be still her Guest)  
makes Sin her Steward to provide her Food:  
How then can Faith such baneful Bits digest,  
which but contaminate her vital Blood?   

Can Faith and Sin (if they be full in force)  
dwell (as if friends they were) in one weak Heart?  
No: one will other from the same divorce;  
for, oblivion's part with life, ere Lordship part:  
Then, want of Faith, with gross Sin is supplied;  
For, Nature vacuum could ne'er abide.    

In rainy-gloomy Wether.  

THis Weather's like my troubled Mind and Eyes:  
the one, being sad; the other, full of Tears;  
And, as Wind oft the often Showrings dries:  
so, Sighs my Tears dry up, and kindle Cares.   

Sighs please, and pain the displeased painful Heart;  
they please in giving vent to Griefs up-pent;  
And yet the Heart, they ease, they cause to smart:  
so, Griefs increase as Sighs do give them vent.   

But were my Mind thus sad but for my Crimes,  
and mine Eyes turned to Tears for cause so dear;  
Or, did my Heart for that sith often- times,  
my Sighs, my Tears, my Sadness blessed were:  
But 'tis, sith Hope, my Ship, through Fates crosse-wave,  
Now grates upon the Gravel of my Grave.    

Our Wits are unable to please our Wills.  

THis Life is but a Labyrinth of Ills,  
whose many Turnings so amaze our Minds:  
that out of Them our Wit no issue finds,  
But what our Sense commands, our Wit fulfils.   

Yet Sense (being tired with deceitful joys  
that fleet as soon as felt) provokes the Wit  
to cast about those Turns to pleasure it,  
Which finds new Pleasures lined with old Annoys.   

So, that when Sense and Wit are at a Stand  
in quest of Pleasures vain variëty,  
they are so cloyed with their saciëtie,  
That Will is wearied with her own Command▪  
Thus, in this Life, or Labyrinth of Ills,  
We toil our Wits in vain, to please our Wills.    

To my most dear, and no less worthily-beloved Friend and Pupil, Henry Mainwarring Esquire, with the truely-noble and venturous Knight Sr. Henry Thynne, accompanying, into Persia, the meritoriously-farre-renowmed Knight, Sr. Robert Shirley, Englishman; yet, Lord Ambassador sent from the great Persian Potentate, to all Christian Princes, for the good of Christendom.  

Heroic Pupil, and most honoured Friend,  
to thee, as to my Moiety, I bequeath  
Half th'other half; beginning, at mine end,  
to make (I hope) me triumph over Death.   

My Son (sole Son; and, all I ever had)  
unto thy Care and Service I commend;  
So, make me Sonless, till you make me glad  
with your Return from this World's further end.   

The Absence of so dear a Son as thou,  
must needs affect thine honoured Sire with Grief;  
But, for thy good, he doth his Grief subdue:  
so, do I mine, by his, sith his is chief:  
Then, with my Son, take thou my heart and these  
Celestial Charms, in Storms, to calm the Seas.    

Rob not the Poor, because he is poor; neither wrong him in judgement. Pro. 22.22.  

THough Words with Wisdom richly be attired,  
yet, if their Speaker be not rich withal,  
They will be rather scorned, then admired;  
or thought, through Envies spite most criminal.   

But Words pronounced by Authority,  
(though no Authority doth them approve)  
Are held for Oracles of Deity;  
and, quoted, as rich Scriptures, Truth to prove!   

Thus Wisdom rare, without a Fortune rich,  
is a rich Gift that gets but poor regard:  
For, wisdoms lowest voice, or highest Pitch,  
if her Pipe be but mean, can ne'er be heard:  
For, the World's Ears, though wide, no voice can hear  
That comes not from a Pipe, as dear as clear.    

To my worthy▪ witty, long-approved, and beloved Friend, Mris. joice jeffreys.  
Let us hear the end: Fear God, and keep his Commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. Eccles. 12.13.  

MAny a weary Winter have I passed  
since first our eyes strange- looks did interchange:  
But now (dear Friend, that is; as kind, as fast)  
Time, in Life's Rear, or vital- Powers doth range.   

My Lays of Love, are now turned all to Psalms  
and Hymns addressed to Heaven; which my young days  
Did most offend: Then, now, I crave this Alms,  
that thou, for me, on These, our God wilt praise.   

When Time, and Thwarts have taught the humbled- spirit  
that all, save love and fear of God, is vain;  
By Grace and Nature we take most delight  
in pains, which may prevent eternal pain:  
Then, if thy Will do match thy Wit (dear Friend)  
On these Feet mayst thou travel to that END.    

The CONCLUSION.  

LO here an end of these our Muse's Flights,  
which aimed at Man's End, or chiefest GOOD;  
But if too wild she were, in heavenly Heights,  
let her be made to know it, by the W●ood.   

If her desire too high hath made her rise,  
(though less than GOD contents not that Desire)  
Of Christ, and of his Church she mercy cries;  
and, humbly, stoops to what they do require.   

Yea, prostrate, she doth fall; nay, veils her Neck  
under his Spouse (the Church) her sacred Feet;  
Submitting all her Soaring to her Check;  
and ready to reform what she thinks meet:  
If she hath rightly fled, GOD made that Flight:  
If not, she prays the Church to make it right.   

But, knew I ought offensive to her Ear,  
My Tears should blot It, ere It mended were.    
FINIS.   

LONDON: Printed by T. S. for George Norton, and are to be sold at his Shop, under the Blacke-bell within Temple-bar. 1612.