THE POEMS OF Ben. Johnson JUNIOR.  
Being A Miscelanie of Seriousness, Wit, Mirth, and Mystery.  
In 

VOLPONE.  
The DREAM.  
ITER BEVORIALE.  
SONGS. etc.    
Composed by W. S. Gent.  Parce— vatem sceleris damnare— 
London Printed for Tho. Passenger at the three Bibles about the middle of London Bridge. 1672.   

To the Right Honourable John Earl of Rutland, and his Honourable Son the Lord Ross.  
LEt Virgil and wise Homer crowned with Bays  
Instruct my Pen to sing great Rutland's praise;  
Skie-mounting Belvoir my Parnassus be,  
Wh●re Bounty, Plenty, noble Charity  
Erect their throne, where the fair Heavens adjoin  
A Manor, and a Mountegue divine.   

To the Right Honourable Walter Lord Aston.  
ASton a Stone cut from the marble Quar,  
Framed to outlive the flames of civil war;  
With all the bounties of the heavens befriended  
Nineteen brave Knights, two princely Lords descended.  
From this great Stem laden with Honour's spoil,  
That now o'respreads Great Britain's fruitful Isle.  
Tixal the Fountain, whence these Heroes flow,  
Where Hospitality and Bounty grow.  
Here Corydon doth act a pleasant Scene,  
While his swift grinders sweep the Table clean.  
Here I my noble Ancestors of old,  
Tracing the steps of Charity behold,  
By Love's fair hand to mine own Cradle led,  
Aston and Lucy joined in one Bed.   

To all the ancient Family of the Lucyes, and to all their Honourable Extractions  
Luci quasi Luxi.  
LUcy bright morningstar, pure light divine,  
Drawn from the Roman and the Norman line,  
In every Revolution still the same,  
Their countries' Honour a●d transcendent flame.  
From this clear Spring I am a little Stream,  
From this Apollo a derived beam.  
Ingratitude unto that Root and Ground,  
That noble Being, I my Being found;  
Lamp of their Country, to their endless praise,  
I dedicate these soft and humble Lays.   

THE CONTENTS.  

In Volpone.  
A Fri●r.  
Vulpone's Schoolmaster.  
His Pedigree.  
Mahomet  
Vulpone's Coat of Arms.  
His Friends.  
Usurers.  
Vulpone's Apology, etc.   

In the Dream.  
Dreams.  
The Court of Spain.  
The Inquisition.  
London.  
Lawyers.  
Opinionists.  
The Rich.  
The Poor.  
The University.   

Miscellanies.  
Iter Bevoriale. 

False and true Love.  
Egypt and the Brick-makers there.  
The Wilderness.  
Death.    
On the Royal Sovereign.  
A Poetical Strain.  
Two Poetical Epistles.  
A cold Journey.  
Upon my Return hence.  
A Dialogue, The Drainers are up.  
●uch a Rogue's a Roundhead.  
A Catholic Hymn.  
A Hymn of Love.  
An Epitaph Hymn.  
The Angel's Entertainment.  
Hymnus in eandem.  
A Song of Hospitality.  
Self.  
A Littany.  
A Sovereign Receipt.  
Dysticks.    

THE POEMS OF BEN. JOHNSON Junior.  

VOLPONE.  

AQuarius ebbed, and Pisces caught i'th' wile,  
The Ram skips in, when Thalia deigns to smile,  
Sol courts his Mistress, gives her a green gown,  
I'm crowned with joy, and tripping over the Down  
I chanced to pass by a fair crystal flood,  
Whose nearest neighbour, was an overgrown wood,  
The little bubbling purling Fountains springing,  
The Nightingale on every bow sat singing,  
The Fields, the Flowers, the Fruit so freely budding,  
Without all care I stumbled on a sudden  
Upon the Fox's hole; Reynard, quoth I,  
Why art thou banished from society?  
This solitary, melancholy Cave,  
Looks like some desperate dungeon, or a grave;  
Thy sentence is severe; what! no reprieve?  
Must thou lie buried and entombed alive?  
The goodwives call thee treacherous, and sullen,  
A greedy dog, for killing all their pullen.  
The Shepherds too such loud complaints do bring,  
Make every corner of the Downs to ring  
The bloody slaughter of the harmless Sheep,  
Like a sly cur, when Shepherds are asleep.  
The cruel murder of the pretty Lambs,  
Slain on a heap together with their dams.  
Reynard to me his gentle paw did reach,  
And in smooth language thus began to preach;  
Many blind souls who cannot read their Psalter,  
Are too too bold and busy with the Altar.  
Let no man put his finger in the fire,  
I by profession am a reverend Friar,  
Our order 'bove all earthly power was ranged  
Equal with Angels, but those times are changed,  
A dismal cloud hath shaded all our mirth,  
We now are called the Locusts of the earth  
By Schismatics, who having lost the way,  
In a wild labyrinth of error stray  
It was a golden age, when we did handle,  
Th' affrighted world, with our Bell, Book, and Candle.  
Lords of the World, men's Consciences to boot,  
We made great Kings humbly to kiss our foot;  
We than were Emperors of all men's treasures,  
My brother Wolf, and I, did fare like Coesars',  
Our bellies strutting, nothing could we lack,  
The full crammed dishes made the Table crack,  
Gammons of Bacon, Brawn, and what was chief,  
King in all feasts, a tall Sir Loin of Beef.  
Fat Venison Pasties smoking, 'tis no fable,  
Swans in their broth came swimming to the Table,  
Partridges, Pigeon, Plover, and the Hen,  
With all her broods, would it were there again.  
My sides were wondrous plump, and in good plight,  
I had no cause to range abroad by night,  
Feasted with delicates beyond all measure;  
Our golden path was Paved with ease, and pleasure.  
The highway Huckster he delights in pillage,  
The Gipsy swaggers in a Country Village,  
The beggar under every bush doth feast,  
But of all lives the Monk's life is the best;  
The world in pure devotion was so holy,  
While we fed fat and laughed at their folly.  
The pretty Nuns and we agree so well,  
Whom we did pardon whatsoe'er befell.  
We put the fair side outward; what was foul  
Was closely hidden underneath our Cowl.  
None in the Pulpit could become a lie,  
With face more bold and confident than I.  
Such melting words, that made the women weep.  
Into the closet of their souls I creep.  
The men from home, and dreaming of no harm,  
I kiss their wives, and keep their places warm;  
I led the fools in such a stupid blindness,  
At their return they thank me for my kindness.  
The world was fast asleep, and did not mind me,  
Where e'er I came I left my spawn behind me.  
Like Bulls reserved for breed, from our fair Abbeys,  
We fill all countries with our lusty Babies.  
Hence in their mouths this Proverb all men gather,  
'Tis a wise child that knoweth his own Father.  
But I must now in deep contrition mourn,  
Fasting and praying for the swift return,  
I lay my bones upon this rocky hill,  
Besides the Lents I keep against my will;  
Since Abby's were dissolved, which I condole,  
I hide mine head e'er since in this dark hole,  
In this poor Hermitage my vows to pay,  
In deep devotion I consume the day,  
Shunning all company by Heaven's direction,  
I keep myself untainted from infection.  
In meditation on my own thoughts feeding,  
Lest they should spoil my manners and my breeding:  
I contemplate and study in my mind,  
Where I at night some pleasant bit may find.  
Self preservation is a general rule,  
I sucked this lesson from dame nature's School.  
My Occupation, which some thiev'ry call,  
I learned of man the greatest thief of all,  
By him I was instructed to indite;  
Man is my copy, what he writes I write;  
Look on my Book I'm sure I do not miss,  
Compare them well, my letters are like his.  
'Tis true with Ducks and Geese I am at war,  
But he in cruelty exceeds me far;  
For one offence of mine number his ten,  
I pray on Lambs, but he doth prey on men.  
Upon a Pig sometimes, I place my mind,  
Whole Nations he devours of his own kind.  
To satisfy fierce hunger, 'tis most just;  
Man plays the wanton Cannibal for lust.  
A Coney, or a Hare, small things we prise them;  
These Alexander's Worlds will not suffice them,  
He calls for more worlds, and he cries Aloon Sir,  
As if one were too little for one Mounsieur.  
Such petty thiefs as I are still dispraised;  
Your mighty Tories unto honour raised.  
We make the woods our dreadful habitations,  
They steer the healm of Kingdoms and of Nations.  
These Caesars placed on fair Fortune's brow,  
But we are taught to swim on every bow.  
The world is caught with toys, things prized we see,  
Not as they are, but as they seem ro be.  
Of our deserved honour she would bar us,  
Because our chamber is not hung with Arras.  
Truth standeth on the rock, 'tis no false Latin,  
A fool's a fool although he ride in Satin.  
Do not debase our royal pedigree,  
Our famous Line shines with the greatest He,  
Tho' I am forced to live in humble cote,  
Mine Ancestors were Beasts of princely note,  
And tho▪ I am by no man now befriended,  
I am from Kings and Emperors descended.  
With Hannibal I was in great request,  
I always lodged in this brave General's breast;  
'Twas not his Sword that drove the Romans home  
Totally routed, to besieged Rome;  
It was my counsel gave the fatal blow,  
When Italy with blood did overflow,  
And had my policy found approbation,  
Rome had not been the Empress of each Nation.  
When wary Fabius drew his Bilbo blade,  
He circumvented him in his own trade;  
My Grandsire Herod, whose grave steps I follow,  
Taught how the great Thiefs do the little swallow.  
From his example all men will confess,  
The tall ones are supplanters of the less:  
All wrestlers from the Matock to the Crown,  
The strongest arm tumbles the weakest down.  
Though in the art of fencing none could beat him  
A mighty Monarch! yet the Lice did eat him.  
From Cain my lineal pedigree I draw,  
Who first proclaimed the statute of club Law;  
'Twas when the early world was newly blown,  
When Pistols, Sword, and Canons were not known,  
Nor that Italian trick, that lays men dead,  
Lulled fast asleep, before they go to bed.  
So soon did fratricide man's mind invade,  
But parricide is now a common trade.  
My Cousin Nimrod learned his skill from me,  
The first that hunted after sovereignty;  
He kept about him a fleet pack of Beagles,  
Who had the Talons and the Wings of Eagles.  
But when his deep mouthed Hounds did roar & thunder,  
They did amaze poor Coridon with wonder.  
Beside he had his Bloodhounds and Setters,  
Whereby freemen were frighted into Fetters.  
To build a Tower, he long time was brewing,  
That he might see what all the Gods were doing,  
Peeping into (although it were forbidden)  
Their wise decrees, and counsels that were hidden.  
And that which made it Luciferian treason,  
He thought to overlook them with blind reason.  
Here's the foundation of that City laid,  
Which into ruin all mankind betrayed.  
When this ridiculous plot it would not be,  
He then unkennels all his Hounds on me.  
His Huntsman fury blew the Bugle Horn,  
Forewarned forearmed i' th' top of all the morn,  
I fled (as I had cause) through thick and thin,  
Through woods and dangerous floods to save my skin:  
Fear gave me wings, it was no time to dally,  
I scale the Mountains which overlook the Valley;  
Until I found this home, this homely bower,  
A castle stronger than his lofty Tower.  
Necessity my nimble pate refining,  
I taught the world the art of undermining,  
Which they have practised since in all their wars,  
To blow up Towns, and fix them all new stars.  
A fig for his Granado and redout,  
Although I am besieged round about,  
Within this Palisado safe am I,  
His Culverin and Canon to defy.  
My brother Mahomet did hold me dear,  
I taught the Dove to whisper in his ear,  
By this fine cheat the vulgar minds beguiling,  
His Koran was all of my compiling;  
With strong delusion, and devout pretences,  
I framed a pamphlet, pleasing to the senses.  
To charm man's appetite, was my sole aim,  
Some small additions; which I now disclaim,  
Foisted by fools, for that was none of mine,  
When he forbade mankind the use of wine.  
That such brave liquor should be in disgrace,  
For this the Poets curse him to his face.  
They call him Sot, and Fool, and senseless widgeon,  
No Poet ever was of his Religion.  
And had Anacreon been alive again,  
He would have whipped their Armies with his Pen.  
Till he had banged them to the Scythian Rocks,  
From whence these Nomads first drove their Flocks.  
Sack gave Don John that Spanish brave Galanto,  
A glorious day i' th' battle of Lepanto.  
Had the Dutch there been armed with furious Brandy,  
The State of Venice had not lost their Candy.  
Wise Privy Counselors, whose pates are running,  
In all their deep designs practise my running.  
Their greatest safety in my counsel lying  
To keep their Necks whole, and their Heads from flying.  
Statesmen attend my Chamber every minute,  
Their counsel fails, if Reynard be not in it.  
Popes, Cardinals, their Engines and Decoys,  
Instructed to amuse the world with toys.  
A world of subtle snares I hourly set,  
To bring blind Idiots headlong to my Net,  
To swallow down my charms, which I do season  
With bowls of wine that robs them of their reason,  
And that they may not smell my bitter potion,  
I colour all their liquor with devotion.  
I lend my hand to low ones that are down,  
Without my help none wear the triple crown.  
Unto my painted lure all mortals bend,  
Old Simon Magus is a trusty friend;  
Achitophel whose policy was rare  
I grieved to see him sailing in the Air.  
To Machiavelli I nearly am allied,  
Both my great Uncles by the surer side.  
I were ungrateful should I not commend her,  
My good old Grannam the grave Witch of Endor.  
She taught me Magic to foretell good hap,  
When a fat Kid should fall into my lap.  
By Astrology instructed to discover,  
When I should plant my lips upon some plover.  
The Sun in Capricorn, the moon decreasing,  
I told each calf his minute of deceasing.  
My skill in Palmistry would much delight ye,  
From Venus' mountain to the linea vitae,  
By secret lines the fortune I display  
Of every goose that came into my way.  
In all Arithmetic I was well read,  
I could divide the shoulder from the head;  
A capon, or a cock, If I could win him,  
I quickly did reduce into a minnim.  
The feathered fowl that fly I did Trappan 'em  
All this and more I learned of my good Grannum.  
Fair Cleopatra, though the Roman kissed her,  
Antonius minion, was my mother's Sister:  
She was his mate, he was her Turtle Dove,  
Shrined in one tomb, fond fools to die for love.  
Queen Jezabel, she was my mother dear,  
Whom cruel Dogs did all in pieces tear:  
I sucked her milk, a tender mother she,  
For which the dogs still lick their lips at me.  
There is but two names in the world bear rule,  
Two mighty families, the Knave and Fool:  
Of these, the major part, in power, and place;  
The crafty knaves spring from the fox's race.  
Your Mountebanks, they daily do invoke us,  
The Jugglers learn their tricks of hocus pocus,  
The crafty Lawyers, nimblest of the three,  
Lay by their Littleton to study me,  
Their Clients purses they do plough and harrow,  
Who gnaw the bone, when they have sucked the marrow.  
When I was young, and did an infant writ,  
In books of Heraldry I took delight.  
Our predecessors fame, from Adam's prime,  
I could reduce unto the present time.  
I and the serpent, joined in commission,  
Gave Eve that apple caused man's perdition.  
Our coat of Arms is rich and wondrous good,  
Three lambs new slain in a fair field of blood.  
Some of our Ancestors wanting their fleeces  
Did bear a ragged coat all torn in pieces;  
An honourable badge, worn as a Gem,  
Won in the wars, between the hounds and them.  
Upon our Crest, a Duck, struggling and striving,  
Catched on a sudden, as she was a diving.  
These things are laid aside, and out of date,  
The leaf is changed in the book of fate.  
'Twas all mine own, that came within mine eyeing,  
I could have ta'en the swiftest swallow flying.  
Nothing to clamber up the tallest cliff;  
But now my joints and sinews are grown stiff;  
My grinders not so sharp to gnaw a bone,  
And all my vaulting, tumbling tricks are gone.  
This is my greatest grief, my friends abuse me;  
Thiefs of my own profession, they accuse me:  
And by no people am I more besmeared,  
Than those whose fired fingers have been seared.  
The Gypsy, and the cutpurse in the stocks,  
Tailors, and Millers, all do curse the Fox.  
Envy swells like a toad ready to burst,  
But the poor fox fares best when he is cursed.  
Two handed Lawyers rob both rich and poor;  
Wiping their mouths, they lay it at my door.  
The Justice and his Clerk, who for a Fee  
Turn justice topsy turvy, rail at me;  
The Usurer, whose Soul is hell-fed bacon,  
Roars out of hell for stealing his fat capon;  
Widows, and children, his wide throat doth swallow,  
Yet calls me thief as if I had no fellow;  
His own he sees not, but my pranks he'll tell ye  
Who hath whole Towns and Cities in his belly;  
When he hath chewed a parish, and her people,  
At the next morsel he devours the steeple:  
Their thundering acclamations all  fly,  
As if there were none other thief but I.  
When if you put all creatures to the test,  
Among the thiefs I shall be found the jest.  
The little crystal springs do rob their Donor  
The envious rob their neighbour of his honour,  
The Sun doth rob the Sea, in Showers of rain,  
The thirsty earth doth rob the Sun again,  
The Rivers rob the Brooks, which gently fall  
In silent streams, the Sea doth rob them all.  
When Cupid he doth throw his poisoned dart  
The lover steals away his Mistress heart:  
Not Lions only that for prey do lie,  
Nor whales, that swallow mighty shoals of fry;  
The little Wren, the Dove, the silly sheep,  
The Fowls, the Fishes of the watery deep,  
They live by rapine, brother robs his brother,  
And all subsist by plundering one another.  
Theft, the world's prop, Dame nature's chiefest friend,  
Banish all thiefs the world will quickly end.  
I loved all my brethren wondrous well  
Who did in active feats of hand excel.  
● thought those thiefs who in the open Sun,  
Bid travellers stand, who have more mind to run,  
To be the greatest fools; I eat the light,  
My stratagems have safety in the night.  
The dogs are all asleep, and not one Mouse,  
That licks the cream, did move in all the house.  
The Trumpeter his trumpet sometime blowing,  
● charm the busy tell-tale-cock from crowing,  
His trumpet shrill was heard through all the village,  
Disturbing my designed plot for pillage,  
Forewarning man of future things to come,  
Of that black, blessed, dismal day of doom,  
When that loud trump shall sound, to raise up men  
To their last judgement, though they know not when▪  
Who sounding in your ears with his shrill horn,  
Tells you, that it may be ere the next morn.  
Whose crowing was to Peter a good morrow,  
When his repentance melts in tears of sorrow.  
It was not so with me, I was afraid,  
Lest he should wake the Mistress and her Maid:  
Whose thundering tongues, would gather in a cluster  
The neighbourhood, all to a general muster,  
Raising great tumults, high and mighty stirs,  
Pistols, and Guns, and all the bawling curs.  
Who would not spare me, if they once did wind me,  
Compelling me to leave my skin behind me.  
The pleasant game stood fair before mine eyes,  
To make the cock sure was my master prize;  
At his vain babbling I was sore offended,  
Griping his throat, his tale was quickly ended.  
My work done suddenly, without debating,  
I stop his whistle, and his tongue for prating,  
Upon the earth poor Chanticleer lies springing,  
His melody was marred for ever singing,  
And to accompany his dismal fall,  
Some cackling hen attends his funeral.  
To weigh these things, it makes me melancholy,  
I would redeem with tears my wanton folly,  
That all is out of frame, all will confess,  
Another's error makes not mine the less;  
I'm weary of the course which I have run,  
And do repent the mischiefs I have done.  
Let man begin, whom we poor Animals call,  
The Microcosm, the quintessence of all,  
Framed out of all worlds, copy of the three,  
A perfect figure of the Trinity,  
The lowest Angel, and the tallest beast,  
A goodly thing in all his titles dressed;  
Let this great thing who doth in honour swim,  
Begin the dance, and we will follow him,  
I'll leave my thieving trade, and be his debtor,  
If his example teach me to be better.   

The crafty Fox doth solemnly protest  
Man unredeemed is worse than any beast,  
Than Wolf, Dog, Lion, Tiger, more uncivil,  
Without a Jesus an Apostate Devil.    

THE DREAM.  

For foreign Lands I had a travelling mind,  
My main design a trusty friend to find,  
If in the miriads of souls that are  
One real lover would fall to my share,  
Where soul to soul tune up one harmony,  
I made no scruple were it he, or she:  
Jewel of jewels, which doth rarely grow,  
Richer than all the Gems in Mexico.  
He that is crowned with this part, is blest,  
Holds in his arms the Indies east and west.  
Musing upon the state of humane things,  
The slippery fate of kingdoms, and of kings,  
Oppressed with weighty grief, which made me weep,  
Clouding my sense, I fell into a sleep.  
Here swift Ideas made my brain their column,  
I saw the universe bound in one volumn;  
Me thought the whole was small, yet all did pant  
To win this thing, no bigger than an ant.  
Each would have all, they shoulder, and they sweat,  
The little world was fight for the great:  
A Sea appeared, king Neptune seemed to flout me,  
Millions of dreams like boats sailing about me:  
These roving run-agates my fancy smother,  
Dream after dream, and one succeeds another.  
Some say that dreams within the brain are tossed  
Of things which in the day we think of most.  
Some dreams are pleasant, some are troublesome,  
Some of things past, and some of things to come,  
Prophetic dreams that please, and sometime fear us,  
Conveyed by Angels when some mischief's near us;  
Some told of things they never knew before;  
Some dream of gold, and yet are always poor;  
Some dream of rivers, mountains, Shores, and Seas;  
Some of a new world: mine was all of these.  
My wand'ring fancy did for Spain incline  
Famous for Sack, that Emperor of wine;  
Other, small princes of inferior rank:  
This liquor Virgil and wise Homer drank  
When they did muster on the Ilian sands  
The Trojan armies and the Grecian bands.  
O'er rocky hills and lofty mountains high,  
Whose tall aspiring heads do kiss the sky  
I search each corner of that crabbed coast,  
The cities which antiquity doth boast;  
Tracing those mountains many a tedious mile  
I stumble on the brave court of Castille.  
Here Hercules did all his labours end:  
But mine began, to find a faithful friend.  
Monsters and Minotaurs tamed by his hand,  
For which he did encompass Sea, and Land:  
My labour did to greater things aspire,  
To find a Phoenix melted in the fire,  
Out of whose ashes should spring up to birth  
A friend, the quintessence of Heaven and earth.  
The gentle Donna's in mine eye no less  
Than sparkling angels in a female dress:  
Their courtesy was rare, so wondrous free,  
With kind embraces they half ravished me:  
At the first flourish they appear like posies  
Composed with July flowers and fragrant roses:  
But flowers will fade; they bid me pick and prune▪  
You may as well find constancy i'th' moon,  
Sweet melting manna from our northern dews,  
Knowledge in Lapland, chastity in the stews.  
Wouldst thou reap diamonds where they are not sow●  
The pearl called friendship never here was known.  
Go gather grapes in Greenland, that dark hole,  
Pepper, and ginger, at the Arctic pole.  
Canst thou bring all Religions into one,  
Whose quintessence is love: thy work is done,  
Thy mind at rest, thy travel at an end,  
The whole creation is become thy friend,  
Not only man, appointed to command,  
But every thing that moves by sea or land:  
Both heaven and earth with all their wealth shall st●… th●  
Lions and Tigers shall fall down before thee.  
In country cottages friendship was rife,  
Leases of love they took for term of life;  
Love there is dead, Amintas doth not mind it;  
And dost thou think in palaces to find it?  
Perfection dwells not in frail, mortal dust;  
Show me the man that to himself is just.  
Damon, and Pitheas, are exiled from hence:  
Virtue herself hath here no influence.  
The Pages tell her in their wanton play  
She is some country Lady of the May  
That knows no courtesy, or how to speak,  
Only trained up to run at barley-break,  
Some canting Gipsy with a conjuring wand,  
Or petty Princess of the Fairy land;  
She is too judged by her brown olive hue  
A Lady errand of Don Gusmans' crew.  
In this place thou wilt prosper, canst thou paint  
With all the colours of a seeming Saint;  
Thou mayst perhaps ascend bright honour's hill  
If thou canst court where thou intend'st to kill;  
We call it policy, just in our sight,  
To cut those trees down that eclipse our light.  
The upright, simple, innocent, we slay:  
'Tis crime enough that they stand in our way.  
We study not the morals of wise Plato;  
Nor that old fool whom they entitle Cato:  
To imitate their follies we want leisure;  
All our divinity is ease and pleasure.  
Slaves chained to conscience no, no, we are freemen▪  
And know no friend, no God, but wine and women.  
Hast thou the stone that turneth all to gold,  
Or teeming bags of Silver? then be bold.  
Melt all Peru into one mass of treasure,  
Then Call th' Infanta Cousin at your pleasure:  
Gentlemen kneel, and at their distance are,  
Esquires your footmen, let the knight stand bare;  
From the grand Signior you may take the Wall,  
Great Dons and Dukes, you Tom and Dick may call.  
Fortune's a Whore, my temples that were crowned  
Must feel her lashes when the wheel turns round.  
Love winneth love, disdain begets disdain,  
Who scorn the world, the world scorns them again.  
Those that will live magnificent and feel  
His favour, must to mighty Mammon kneel:  
These were his minions, in his bosom lay.  
True loyal Subjects, they his Laws obey;  
These were rewarded with all earthly blisses,  
Swimm in his favour, crowned with his kisses:  
But I that could not bow to this Apollo,  
Must nolens, volens, all disgraces swallow.  
My simple Outside did these Lapwings fright,  
Winters at hand, come let us take our flight,  
Beside the courtesy of friendly blows,  
They took their last adieu with their kind toes.  
The tall groom-porter spied mine empty purse,  
Then whipped me from the presence with a curse.  
My tongue was mute, my wrongs I durst not tell,  
But with my heels I bid this Court farewell;  
And had not patience armed me in haste,  
To ward their blows, that day had been my last.  
The Inquisition made me wondrous sick,  
●east they should take me for some Heretic,  
Whence no redemption till the grand assize,  
When the graves open, and the dead arise:  
Criminal faults they might have found good store,  
What greater Blasphemy than to be poor;  
And in their flames I might a Martyr fry,  
Where simple honest is grand Heresy;  
What courtesy, what Civil entertainment,  
When poor and honest came to their arraignment.  
That some allege there is a Purgatory,  
Experience proves it is no fabulous story.  
'tis easy to believe when we have seen it,  
● can assure you I myself was in it,  
● prayed to all the Saints on my bare knee,  
From limbus patrum now deliver me.  
Remembering Lot's wife I durst make no halt,  
Lest I should be dissolved into Salt;  
Fear would not let me stay, nor look behind,  
But hoisting sail, with a brisk merry wind,  
With all my wings for England I am gone,  
To London, Empress of fair Albion;  
●nto this royal City than I pack Sir,  
● met this common greeting, what d'ye lack Sir?  
Methought the word was sweeter far than honey,  
Will these kind Souls supply me without money?  
This gentle salutation it did sound  
As if that Paradise were newly found  
Where the fair beams, of the bright heavens do smile▪  
All things provided without care and toil.  
Perhaps old Saturn, with his golden age,  
Is here arrived from his long Pilgrimage.  
Where cursed mine and thine was never known,  
And no man durst call any thing his own.  
men's minds were not enclosed, that crying sin,  
For all the world was then one common Inn,  
Landlord and Tenant names unknown, all share  
The whole creation common as the air,  
The hospitable earth man's friendly host,  
Nature his hostess, at whose proper cost  
Her guests were feasted with a liberal hand,  
To furnish them she plunders Sea and Land.  
At their departure hence, for their long stay  
The reckoning was brought in nothing to pay.  
'Twas Satur's absence caused the City's mourning,  
And Bonfires now were made for his returning.  
To make his welcome equal their desire,  
The bells for joy were melted in the fire.  
I secretly within myself thus prayed,  
Blessed heavens, O noble City, be thine aid.  
May every Mayor be a Duke or Earl,  
Thy Ships return laden with gold and Pearl.  
Buying and selling banished, all things given  
With a full hand, as they descend from heaven.  
Let there be no Apprentice, but all Freemen,  
And every thing as common as some women;  
That fire which many thousands did undo,  
O let it burn up their Opinions too;  
Let every Soul be ruled by the Dove,  
And no Religion in the world but Love,  
That all men's hearts may shout with joy and mirth,  
That heaven is now come down to dwell on earth.  
Credulity it hath deceived many,  
I would not be ungrateful unto any,  
Nor at his civil courtesy to spurn,  
This Answer to his Question I return.   

I want a Friend Sir. He in scorn did mutter,  
It is a ware we never use to utter,  
'Tis not within the walls I dare be bold,  
Nor any where in the large Suburbs sold;  
'Tis a commodity quite out of fashion,  
And rarely to be found in the whole Nation,  
moor's brave Utopia, with a deluge drowned,  
Covered with water, no where to be found;  
This world affords it not, it is a Gem  
Was never seen but in Jerusalem;  
It hath no stain, nor intermitting foil;  
But groweth there as in his native soil;  
Their very walls are built with such rich stone,  
Millions of Pearls cemented into one.  
The breath of love his friendly blast doth blow;  
'Tis natural there, as enmity below:  
Disposed to good, so readily inclined,  
They know not what it is to be unkind.  
Some of our modern travellers do say,  
'Twas lately found in terra incognita.  
Sir we expect some Ships, but O I fear,  
The voyage long, they'll not return this year.  
A friend! it is the thing we most desire,  
'Twould save our shop from thiefs, our house from fire.  
Pride's our best friend, on lust we make our dinner,  
At every meal we swallow up some sinner.  
But these thy friends scourge thee with many lashes;  
Melting thy stately buildings into Ashes;  
A dearth of friendship did invade this place,  
Where plenty did put on a smiling face;  
The thing called love, it was not to be found,  
Pride and ambition did besiege it round;  
Miracles cease, I had no cause to mourn,  
If Thames to wine, and stones to bread would turn;  
For aged Paul's was falling every day,  
The famine great I could no longer stay,  
My sides grew lean, my bowels out of Tune,  
Even in the height and heat of parching June;  
With frozen entertainment here benumbed,  
I march, where the Knight's tempars lie entombed;  
These warriors, as I walk about the Isle,  
Did seem to court me with a Soldier's smile,  
The marbles were less stony than the men,  
Who have exchanged their swords into a pen,  
The cruel murdering pen that in a word  
Kills and cuts deeper than the keenest sword.  
Four fleeces from their clients they do shear,  
Four golden crops, four harvests in one year:  
Were Ceres to the Ploughman half so kind,  
he'd skip and caper like the bouncing Hind;  
His horses too, taking their masters mow,  
Without their bells would dance before the Blow;  
Their Ship can sail with all winds that do blow,  
They reap the land which they did never sow:  
The fat of all they put into their purses,  
Together with the widow's tears and curses;  
Their long demurs their bawling in mine ears,  
Their Pedlar's french drove me from hence with tears:  
My cause nonsuited, no man could befriend me,  
Wanting my Guardian-Angel to defend me;  
My forma pauperis was thrown o'er the Bar,  
●uch men are mad that enter into war;  
The gowned battle is not for the poor,  
The remedy they find worse than the sore.  
My Dream continued; in my sleep I saw,  
A multitude in several bodies draw;  
●n antique shapes they move with various paces,  
And yet methought there was more minds than faces:  
All would have all men amble in their way,  
And each did think his neighbour went astray;  
Yet none did know upon what ground they stand,  
Mistake the right, and turn to the left hand.  
In the morning this side, which they change  noon,  
Like the Chameleon, or the pale-faced moon.  
All strive to be aloft, their brains they beat  
Who shall be placed in the highest seat;  
In an uncertain slippery orb they reel,  
Moved by that great power that guides the wheel;  
Those heads who now are crowned with a wreath,  
At the next revolution fall beneath;  
From their exalted Empire down they tumble,  
Blessed saith wisdom are the meek and humble;  
Who standing on the lowest step of all,  
Are sure to rise, but can no lower fall,  
Who swim in the smooth stream without a bladder;  
By slow sure steps they climb up jacob's ladder.  
But these benighted wander from the road,  
Losing the narrow way they take the broad.  
They are ignorant that great doth little grow,  
And to be less than nothing, less do know:  
Nothing no favour hath in mortal eyes,  
But to be something is their Master-prize.  
The battle is begun, see how they ruffle,  
And every man doth with his neighbour scuffle;  
Fury, grand captain of this cursed brawl,  
Opinion is Dictator of them all:  
Opinion with opinion is at odds,  
And humane reason she prepares the rods,  
To whip the backs of struggling Souls that wander  
From the blind steps of this notorious Pander;  
Whose beauty now hath lost his virgin lustre,  
Like swarms of Bees or armies when they muster.  
Her bastards multiply all like the mother,  
And one opinion still begets another.  
Of this in estuous Strumpet old and rotten,  
That bloody fratricide Cain was begotten;  
Who when the world a little infant stood,  
Taught men to sacrifice with humane blood:  
Who e'er doth play Religion wins the game,  
For now opinion she assumes that name;  
Thus by opinion and his brother fancy,  
The world is overgrown with Negromancy;  
True love, religion pure and undefiled,  
A wand'ring Pilgrim from all hearts exiled;  
With bloody noses and with broken bones,  
Like wanton boys they fight for cherry-stones;  
Their ordnances play, their fury swells,  
For a poor handful of old rotten shells:  
The Nut is good, who would not strive to win it?  
It hath a pearl when the sweet kernells in it:  
Fond Strife hath cracked the Nut, the kernell's gone,  
And now they quarrel for the shells alone.  
It is not coloured duties faced with lies,  
Regeneration only wins the prize;  
Although Heaven-gates stand open all the year,  
None but a little child can enter there.  
By their own works heavens palace is not gained;  
Man's righteousness will not be entertained;  
The word, the living word, a thundering dart,  
Through bones & marrow wounds the panting heart:  
It made the world  time and world began,  
And for man's sake this word became God-man.  
But they, O grand mistake! knowing no better,  
Confine the unconfined to the letter;  
A noval-paper deity compounding,  
The spirit with the written word confounding;  
Their Sun is set, thick darkness doth invade,  
In stead of light they dally in the shade:  
Aesop's devouring dog, a greedy glutton,  
Diving to catch the shadow lost the mutton.  
Some Dina or Diana is the cause  
Of all our woes, the breach of nature's laws;  
With an Acheldema of crimson blood,  
For trifling toys not rightly understood;  
True knowledge clouded with Egyptian blindness,  
All amity confounded with unkindness;  
The law of love, the livery and token  
Of Christ's disciples, by division broken:  
This is great Babel, mother of delusion,  
Strumpet of Strumpets, city of confusion.  
No peace no truth where Jezabel doth reign,  
My hopes were dead, my heart was almost slain,  
Sighing to see how all things did deceive me;  
Is this great world too narrow to receive me?  
What hideous deluge doth overwhelm thy face,  
That the poor Dove can find no resting place?  
A friend! an Unicorn! not to be found,  
When instantly turning my body round,  
A man, more than a man, a God did meet me,  
With kind embraces thus began to greet me:  
Through bogs and briers wading in distress,  
Why dost thou wander in this wilderness?  
When thou thy part hast acted on the stage,  
Poor Pilgrim thou must quit thy pilgrimage;  
Time with his Sickle these false joys will sever,  
And when you parted are, you part for ever;  
Wean thy bewitched Soul whilst thou hast breath,  
Know this, there's no returning after death.  
These short-lived transitory joys ride double,  
Delight with sorrow mixed, pleasure and trouble:  
Repentant tears of mourning after gladness,  
A shower of comfort interlined with madness.  
Look up to him whose love is still descending,  
Whose greatness no beginning hath nor ending:  
Enter sweet Paradise with Angels singing,  
Swim in the Fountain that is always springing:  
The glories of the world perish in tasting,  
Embrace those pleasures that are everlasting.  
Fellow my counsel, if thou wouldst have rest,  
I'll lead thee where the Doves do build their Nest;  
Where thou shalt feast in fullness all the day,  
A lamb among the lambs frolic and play.  
Thou sow'st in fears and tears, hoping to find;  
All that thou reapest here is froth and wind;  
Hadst thou the whole world, 'Tis a little spot;  
Fond fool, thy native country this is not.  
This Fabric is a cottage of small price,  
My heart's thy palace and thy paradise.  
His breath was sweet, it sounded in mine ears  
More pleasant than the music of the Spheres;  
Which gently blowing like a whisper came,  
To kindle up love's fire into a flame:  
Excellent consort, by whose charming tone  
Our nature with his nature is made one.  
Silencing man makes him for ever mute,  
Jesus the Lutanist, Christus the Lute;  
Christus the Lute the instrument of Jesus,  
On whom he plays what melody he pleases.  
Jesus Jehovah is the grand Creator,  
Jesus in Christo the Regenerator;  
Healer of Nations, good Samaritan,  
The Son of God is now the son of man:  
The mystery of mysteries indeed,  
The blessed Sower is himself the seed;  
The spirit by his overshadowing powers,  
Doth breath his flaming heart of love in ours:  
Duality confounded in this union,  
Where heaven and earth do meet in full communion.  
Ravished with wonder, I did kiss his feet  
In whom all that is excellent doth meet;  
The lustre of his beauty all-divine,  
Speeds through my veins, and made my face to shine:  
I fixed mine eye upon his face, that shone;  
But O! upon a sudden he was gone;  
I turned me round about if I could see  
The footsteps of my love, where he should be;  
My Love, my Dove, my Joy, my sole delight,  
What Cherubin hath snatched him from my sight?  
O where is my beloved? is he fled?  
Dwells he among the living or the dead?  
I'll search the graves, perhaps death hath enrolled him;  
The marble Sepulchre could not hold him:  
I'll climb the cliffs for him that is my crown;  
His power that made can pull the mountains down:  
I'll scale the walls of heaven but I will gain him;  
Fond fool! the heaven of heavens cannot contain him▪  
I mount the rocks 'gainst which the Northwind rages▪  
They answer me, he is the rock of ages:  
I travail to the Woods, is my Love here?  
Echo did answer, he lives every where:  
To the starry region than I take my flight;  
He is the luminous centre of all light,  
Whose glorious beams continually do pierce  
Through all the body of the Universe.  
Man's soul's a sparkle of this light divine,  
Enlightened Souls do all the stars outshine:  
Whose radiance here hath not his full disclosing,  
Eclipsed by the bodies interposing.   

Thence to the springs that Issue from the mountains,  
Thy lover is the Fountain of all Fountains;  
His bosom is a hill, whiter than Snow,  
Whence water of eternal life doth flow;  
Conveyed by power, through secret unknown allies,  
Descendeth down to bless the humble valleys.  
It is not drained by drawing, but runs quicker;  
The thirsty Soul tasting this heavenly liquor,  
Drinks liberal draughts, greedily pouring in,  
Accounts sobriety the greatest sin.   

I sound the rivers, but they answer all,  
He is the Sea wherein all rivers fall;  
That bounteous, boundless, bottomless abyss,  
Where little streams are swallowed up in bliss:  
From this Apollo man's a sparkling beam,  
From this great Ocean a derived stream,  
Springs, Rivers, Brooks, by heavens distilling rain,  
United into one great Sea again.   

True love is not a quainted with pale sear:  
Armed with courage, to embrace my Dear,  
Unto the Lion's den I boldly came,  
The Lion rampant was an humble Lamb▪  
Here in this Wilderness I am a King;  
When I do roar I make the Forest ring.  
The Elephant his fear cannot dissemble,  
I make the Leopard and the Tiger tremble;  
But I myself am couchant and do fall  
Before his presence who is King of all.   

Among the homely Shepherds than I steer,  
Such as King David and the Patriarches were;  
Saw you my royal Prince? fond Soul, quoth they,  
Who trust in man are sure to lose the way:  
We are lambs as thou art, Sheep of his dear fold,  
In the number of his little ones enrolled;  
Close by the river in fair flowery Meadows,  
And Mountains always green, he gently leads us:  
'Tis true, we spring from his immortal line,  
But he that is our Pastor now is thine;  
In his great power and glory we do swim,  
Our harps and hearts are tuned all by him:  
We are his instruments, his choice delights,  
We are the Song which he himself indites;  
With his own hand he toucheth all the strings;  
'Tis one that plays, 'tis one alone that sings:  
We are his written word, he the Inditer,  
Look not upon the writing, but the Writer;  
Inquire of him alone, on yonder rock  
He sweetly pipeth to his fleecy flock;  
Go to him boldly man, thou needst not doubt him,  
His pretty lambs are dancing round about him,  
Dancing for joy, there's nothing now can fear them,  
The greedy Wolf and Fox cannot come near them;  
The bearded Goats apart from him do stand,  
The little Lambs he feeds with his own hand:  
In his warm tender bosom they are nursed,  
With his heartblood he satisfies their thirst.  
To pay their debts, upon the Cross he hung;  
Good Pelican that bleeds to feed his young.   

TRANSPORT.  

My soul mad drunk with love, that still did mi●… him  
Among the Doves I cannot choose but find him  
Dressed in the flames of love; saw you my Dear?  
One milk-white Dove did whisper in mine ear,  
Behold in yonder flourishing Grove of Myrtles  
Thy Lover sits, the King of all the Turtles;  
His mate so constant, that he doth not doubt her,  
His love so great he cannot live without her;  
He courts, and to be courted she is willing;  
Music of hearts whose melody is billing.  
In an eternal knot espoused they be,  
He full of love, a modest Virgin she;  
His love eternal is, and hath no date,  
He is thy Turtle, and thou art his Mate:  
Father of Spirits, Angels, and the rest,  
Bright flame of love within Jehovahs' breast,  
Upon the day of Penticost he came,  
With cloven tongues, and in a fiery flame,  
This spreading fire from East to West was hurled,  
Whose holy sparks did kindle all the world;  
Till Antichrist did poison this pure life,  
And quench this heavenly fire with floods of strife:  
But now he's come the second time, whose breath  
Will plague the Beast, and whip the Whore to death.  
Unto the sturdy Ploughman than I pass,  
Such as of old the Prophet Amos was;  
Rid my Love this way on his milk white Steed?  
Amos replied, thy Lover is the Seed;  
He sows himself into thy fruitful mind,  
That at the Harvest he himself may find;  
There's nothing but himself that he doth save,  
All but himself lies rotting in the Grave;  
The perfect new man which from heaven descended  
Returns, when this frail mortal life is ended;  
Thy Soul's the Land where he himself doth sow,  
The Spirits holy breath makes it to grow;  
Refreshed by the heavens distilling rain,  
It multiplies into a field of grain;  
All flowers of Paradise grow to delight 'em,  
Grace after grace springs up ad infinitum.   

Enquiring of the Shrubs, who weep and mourn,  
Hanging their heads, this answer they return;  
By resignation and humility,  
A little Plant becomes a stately Tree;  
All look on Trees that on the Mountains grow,  
But those are safest that are placed below;  
Jehovah's thunder doth not overtake them,  
The wildest Hurricane cannot shake them:  
They flourish like the Lilies, without care;  
He is their life, and they his being are.   

I march among the Rich hoping to find him,  
Voluptuous pomp gave them no time to mind him;  
Rattling of Coaches in their brain did rout them,  
A train of Sycophants placed round about them,  
Whose soothing language lavishly did measure  
Their Summum bonum to consist in pleasure.  
The world's a Hogstye, (O that word hereafter!)  
Where men like Swine are fatted for the slaughter.   

I row my Boat unto the ragged shore,  
To the despised, rich, contented poor,  
Who in the heavens have laid up all their treasure,  
Where they have riches without end or measure.  
Where rests my love, when Sol at noon is riding  
Upon his flaming Steeds? where's his abiding?  
He dwelleth in the low and humble mind,  
That prostrate lies before his feet resigned.  
Such simple innocence without all skill,  
Like newborn babes that know no good nor ill,  
Poor naked nothings, numbered with the dead,  
Have sold their ornaments for heavenly bread;  
Whose souls are purified from filthy mire,  
By passing through the Purgatorian fire:  
A noble battle 'gainst themselves proclaimed,  
Their passions and affections wholly tamed;  
Great Alexander with his noble crew,  
Conquering the world, the world could not subdue;  
Another Empire large he had to win,  
To tame that little world that was within:  
We that are crowned with double victory,  
In these poor Coats are greater Kings than he.   

To the University I set my face,  
Among the Rabbis of that reverend place:  
I hunted out the chief for fame reputed,  
And unexpectedly I was saluted  
By one whose beard was snow, whose face was frost,  
Trained in the noble School of Penticost,  
In  College a resplendent light,  
And by degree a learned Jesuit;  
Chief of that Order, with all knowledge blest,  
Skilled in the heavenly Magic of the east;  
'Twas one of those brave Magis, that from far  
Did visit Jesus, guided by a Star,  
Offering rich presents, Frankincense and Spice;  
To offer me his council was not nice;  
And that he might my lawful audience win,  
He kissed me thrice, and thus he did begin.  
What vanity, on childish arts to look!  
And leave unstudied thine own learned book;  
Thy book hath but three leaves, leaves that are few,  
The wisdom great, all that all worlds can show:  
Thy Soul's that noble book, wherein doth lie  
Heaven, hell, and earth, time, and Eternity;  
He that can read this book, he must inherit  
The wisdom of the Father, Son, and Spirit:  
This book hath long been clasped and closed within,  
Sealed and shut up by th' angry Cherubin:  
In heaven and earth none worthy, none was fit,  
But the dear Lamb, God's heart, to open it;  
To keep it locked the anger did decree,  
Love did unseal the book and set it free;  
A Library of books in this book find  
Printed▪ and fairly written in thy mind,  
Whose lines are gold indicted by the Dove,  
Whose letters are the sparkling flames of love:  
Teipsum nosce, leave their tittle tattle,  
And then thou knowest more than Aristotle;  
Study thyself, if thou wouldst knowledge win,  
Faith will unlock the golden gate within:  
Let wisdom bridle passions in the Soul,  
Good Servants, but ill Lords, if they control:  
Hell lies in wait to crucify thy lover,  
Heaven with its Angels at thy door doth hover,  
Seraphic Angels with immortal power,  
Thy Guardian strength, attend thee every hour:  
Vain roving thoughts, Moss troopers do way lay thee,  
With their hail Master, kiss thee to betray thee;  
Thought follows thought as wave on waves do roll,  
And all to steal away the wand'ring Soul;  
Like thieving Pickaroons, in Neptune's hall,  
They sail about thy brain to plunder all;  
If they once bring thine heart unto their shore,  
Poor Galleyslave they'll chain thee to the Oar;  
O keep thine heart entire for him alone  
Who rules the heavens, & makes thy heart his throne.  
This lower world is a deceitful cage,  
Where mortals act their part as on a stage:  
Some march into the field, and some retreat,  
Disguised like Maskers, all is but a cheat:  
Play how you please, when you have thrown your cast  
Death comes and sweeps away the stake at last;  
Look not so big, thy life is but a span,  
'Tis a wise part to act the honest man;  
For toys thy future bliss do not destroy,  
Prepare thy mind for that sweet land of joy.  
Where all things do in equal temper grow,  
Nor hot nor cold, with you it is not so:  
The torrid Zone burns up the fruitful grass,  
The frigid turns it all to icy glass;  
There love and anger both together dwell,  
A country seated between heaven and hell;  
With you love friezes, and grows wondrous cold,  
Our constant amities are never old.  
That friendship which some thousand years hath run,  
Is now as fresh as when it first begun.  
Things always present, nothing past and gone,  
One heart, one mind, we number all by one.  
Arithmetic with us allows not two,  
To sing and love is all we have to do.  
In every soul love throws his flaming darts;  
The flame's so great, no frost can frieze our hearts:  
Encompassed with the glories of the Dove,  
Whose gentle breath doth melt us into love.  
Nothing so kind as he who is our brother,  
Nothing so dear as we to one another.  
Love without wrath, whose garment hath no spot,  
Ties all our hearts in one eternal knot.  
No striving to be high or to be best,  
For he's the greatest Prince that is the least.  
He stands upon the mount and is most tall,  
Who is the humblest and the low'st of all;  
Titles of honour, bubbles in the air,  
Why should they soar? who noble princes are;  
Ambitious Nimrods', who to heaven would climb,  
The tower of honour, long before their time.  
All aim at greatness, all men would be Kings:  
They take their flight with raw unplumed wings;  
Those that in sweet humility lie low,  
Are lifted up whether they will or no.  
To purchase Dukedoms we take no delight,  
The meanest Subject in this land's a Knight;  
The name of Earl, what honour doth it bring  
To him that is enthroned a crowned King?  
We wear the crown which you now strive to win.  
Look not on things below, but turn thou in  
With all the strength of faith, and thou shalt see  
The Star that guided us will tutor thee:  
He'll lay thy soul in such a slumbering trance,  
Thou wilt admire thy former ignorance,  
When he shall freely to thy Soul impart  
The open cabinet of his rich heart;  
●n the clear beams of loves eternal light,  
The Prophets and Apostles, they did write:  
Their book stood open, where was drawn in pages  
The History of all succeeding ages;  
Things present, past, to come, as they did pass,  
Were represented in a perfect glass;  
And if their book of life were once unsealed,  
All things to all mankind would be revealed.  
My time is spent appointed by the powers,  
The Angels call me to their crystal bowers;  
Since thou must dwell among the Sons of men,  
In this vain world a forlorn Citizen,  
●ollow my Council, and all Idols quit,  
The rock Self-love, where millions have been split:  
'tis self that seeks to mount into the Saddle,  
That he may murder Jesus in the cradle;  
●t swept like a dire plague, where e'er it ran,  
And hath infected all this world called man,  
●n an insulting domineering high rant,  
Stalks in the steps of the Sicilian Tyrant  
This word called Love, which makes the world run mad,  
Hath now more faces than e'er Janus had;  
Many false loves there are, for in the trial,  
The Touchstone proves there is but one that's loyal;  
The Puritan will sing an amorous Sonnet,  
To sensual love the Zealot vails his Bonnet,  
All light their Torches at Don Cupid's lamp;  
This bastard love hath not the royal stamp.  
For some fair face madmen and fools will die,  
Because it is delightful to the eye.  
For gold men sail o'er Seas of flaming fire,  
Because it gives them all they can desire;  
Flowers, whose pleasing odours do excel,  
We love not for themselves, but for their smell;  
Whatsoever pleaseth, all men strive to win it,  
And at the bottom self is still within it:  
This coin it will not pass, 'tis counterfeit,  
Self love is grown to be a general cheat;  
'Tis chaff that's blown away with every fan,  
All creatures have this love as much as man;  
Unfixed meteors like the wand'ring light,  
Which doth deceive the Passenger by night;  
Friendship's dissolved, and love grows wondrous lean,  
When greater interests do intervene;  
Love from the fountain, which is rarely found,  
Love's 'cause it loves, and hath none other ground.  
Canst thou love loveliness when clouds do shade it,  
Not for thy interest, but his that made it?  
Canst thou with love and pity then bemoan it,  
Because it hath his superscription on it?  
Canst thou draw Fountain-water from a puddle,  
And swim in joy in the height and top of trouble?  
Canst thou make crosses thy delight and pleasure,  
And from the depths of hell drag heaps of treasure?  
A Virgin undefiled in the mire?  
Eat Thunderbolts and swallow flaming fire?  
Canst thou with Jonathan a David take,  
When Sceptre, Crown and Kingdom, lie at stake?  
Canst thou embrace what all men discommend?  
Call naked poverty thy bosom friend?  
What mortals fear, canst thou shake hands with, death,  
When he doth come to blow away thy breath?  
Couldst thou a sacrificed Victim be  
For him that lies in wait to murder thee?  
Canst thou write self i'th' number of the Martyrs?  
And lay poor Lazarus where thy Strumpet quarters?  
Thy dear and only Isaac, canst thou leave him  
In his fair hands from whom thou didst receive him?  
Hast thou this love, though it be ne'er so little?  
Then thou hast something that deserves the title!  
The mysteries this good man did unfold  
I wished they had been written all in gold;  
Transported with high wonder and delight,  
Ending his speech, he vanished out of sight.  
To Pharaoh's plenteous land I next did row,  
Which famous fruitful Nile did overflow:  
The land was good but for a cursed law,  
That I myself must gather all my straw:  
To make my tale of bricks, if I grew dull,  
My shoulders paid the reckoning to the full;  
And what was worse, my mind doth yet abhor it,  
My work being done I had no wages for it;  
Some that did sing and carol all the day,  
Carouse and tipple, they had all the pay;  
These spent their time in merriment and laughing,  
Rewarded richly with a crown for quaffing.  
We feed and intercommon with the swine,  
They at their great Lords table daily dine.  
To swallow bran and husks we are not nice,  
They banquet on the fruit of Paradise:  
Imprisoned like a blackbird in a Cage,  
Poor puddle-water is our beverage;  
Rich Nectar cannot their quick palate scape,  
Nor the heartblood of the most noble grape;  
With golden ornaments and silk arrayed,  
On beds of down with diamonds overlayed  
They rest, and feast in jollity and mirth:  
Our bones in rags on the despised earth.  
What e'er they do, is paid with smiles and graces,  
Our crimes are all unboweld to our faces,  
For which, beside the sorrow and the cost,  
Our backs are feasted at some Whipping-post:  
These have no other leader but the Dove,  
Their meat, their drink, their rich attire is love.  
They Kings and Princes are; no cruel law,  
Conscience to fright, or keep their minds in awe;  
They dance, they sing, they frolic, sport and play,  
For all the year is but one holiday;  
The father does the work, the children play,  
And yet the father does the children pay;  
These children dear he kindly doth embrace;  
We are Abortives and of Bastard race;  
With full deep draughts they drink all sorrow down,  
The deepest drinker wears the greatest crown.  
With oaths they tear the stars out of the sky,  
And make the trembling fearful Devils fly,  
Frighting the Hypocrite out of his wits,  
Yet no dark cloud upon their conscience sits;  
Moses is dead long since, who did command,  
Jehovah takes the Sceptre in his hand:  
Jesus the God of love, his love imparts,  
Writing his Law of love in all their hearts;  
O what is Moses, what are all his laws,  
Wanting the witness to maintain the cause;  
The Holy Spirit he can only cure ye,  
He is the Judge, the witness, and the Jury:  
In Pharaohs land the laws they were not good,  
Written in Characters of humane blood;  
Those that dwelled here did labour to be poor,  
Had this reward, to wash the Blackamoor,  
With menaces and blows, because they went  
On their own errand, when they were not sent.  
An unsure path, this was their overthrow,  
They wait not till their Leader bid them go.  
Instead of Peter's palace headlong tumbling  
Into the pit, where Cerberus sits grumbling.  
What though heaven-gate stand open all the year,  
None but the new man hath admittance there:  
This little Infant is that lovely boy,  
That leads the Soul to everlasting joy.  
I fled from hence when no body did mind me,  
Leaving this Country with a curse behind me:  
Now for the Wilderness with all my sails,  
To gather Manna, but I met with Quails.  
A merry Crew with feasting and good cheer,  
About a foolish Calf were dancing here;  
Moses was in the mount, where he did draw  
Tables of Stone; but who regards his Law?  
They're not amazed, nor startle at the wonder,  
Though it received its birth in horrid thunder,  
Unlike the Gospel, that with gentle voice  
Did make their hearts in melting tears rejoice;  
Bewailing these this in my mind did come,  
How many Calves are there in Christendom?  
And those that see old Israel go astray,  
Perhaps do worship Calves as well as they.  
What quarrels every where, what fruitless odds?  
About their wafer, water, paper-gods;  
We style them heathens who the Stars did hollow,  
Falling in zeal before their great Apollo;  
When those that see their error (that is known)  
With open eye cannot behold their own;  
All men are Archers roving in the dark,  
Their arrow flies to some mistaken mark.  
Our aim should be at heaven alone, but O!  
The earth is still between, we shoot too low;  
Some Dallila, some creature, we are wide all,  
And every man's his own beloved Idol:  
The griping Usurer can take no rest,  
For dreaming of his Idol in the Chest;  
The ambitious man with new invented Oaths,  
Swears by his honour, and his painted :  
The Lover's fettered in Don Cupid's cord,  
The Soldier boldly swears by his good sword;  
The Scholar on his Concubine doth look,  
Vows he will have no Mistress but his Book;  
He calls it bigamy to sport and kiss,  
Or marry any other Wife but this;  
Out of his little senses he doth run,  
To find the earth dancing about the Sun;  
Man, man, too little, or too much doth prize,  
'Tis safe to love, but not to Idolise,  
Wife, children, lands, descent from noble birth,  
Titles of honour, Demigods on earth.  
Rather than fail abroad, at home we find,  
Millions of Images within the mind,  
Neat Images carved out with curious art,  
And all those flattering Idols of the heart;  
As Cannon-bullets with impetuous force  
Cut through the air, taking their violent course,  
Not resting, though they fly with eager wing,  
Till they return to earth whence they did spring.  
So man, whose Soul's a sparkle of that flame,  
Breathed by the Holy spirit, whence it came,  
Like Noah's dove can find no steady footing,  
Till it reenter where he had his rooting:  
In the true balance 'tis most just and fit,  
To give the Soul to him that framed it.  
'Twill stand in no place but where it first grew,  
'Tis general peace when Caesar hath his due.  
This makes the IV to quarrel in great pain,  
Struggling and striving to return again:  
Into the only one pure element,  
Their first dear mother where they have content:  
This is the root of all their disagreeing,  
Because they are not in their pristine being;  
For which the universal frame doth mourn,  
Groaning with sighs, and panting to return:  
Israel for forty years was tried and tossed.  
But I could stay no longer in this coast,  
This country could not win my approbation,  
It looked so like the land of desolation;  
Where parching Southern winds do always blow  
Where Corn and grass was never known to grow;  
For Canaan now winged with the rosy morn.  
That holy land where my dear Prince was born;  
I found those sweet and blessed habitations  
Were Joshua dwelled, possessed by barbarous nations;  
King David's greatness like a Dream was gone,  
And all the glories of King Solomon:  
Old Jacob said with grave and reverend brow,  
The land thou seest, it is not Canaan now;  
Canaan a garden, which the heavens did dress,  
Is now become a barren wilderness;  
Here in this land a Sun arose most bright,  
Whose lustre to the lower world gave light;  
The Son of God, the glory of each nation,  
In flesh and blood took up his habitation:  
To bless the world he from my loins did spring;  
But he that was my Son, is now my King.  
Transplendent light sealed with Jehovahs' stamp,  
My bastard children quenched this glorious lamp;  
This land, which Prophets and Apostles nursed,  
Is for their crying murdering crime accursed,  
For which they are dispersed in every part.  
Wouldst thou see Canaan, 'tis within thy heart;  
This is King David's Sceptre, and his throne,  
This is the temple of King Solomon.  
Vrim and Thummim seek, and thou shalt find,  
Holy of holies is within thy mind,  
Wrestle with God as I did, boldly wrestle,  
Like some brave Soldier when he storms a Castle,  
Or's mounting up to some strong Citadel,  
Victorious faith doth conquer heaven and hell.  
The fearful coward meets with many a cross,  
Returning from the battle still with loss:  
Laodicea was reproved of old,  
For her Lukewarmness, neither hot nor cold;  
In mine encounter I did boldly say,  
I am resolved to die, or win the day:  
'Tis known through all the world, I do not boast,  
I did encounter with the Lord of host,  
Who holdeth in his hand lightning and fire,  
Till he had granted all I could desire.  
I would not let him go, but held him fast  
In my strong arm of confidence embraced;  
In this power Laban's craft I overcame,  
Changed Esau's Lion to a gentle lamb;  
And in the vision which was clearly given,  
Faith is the ladder which doth reach to heaven;  
Earth linked to heavenboth kingdoms comprehending,  
Throne- Angels swift ascending and descending.  
'Twas not a mess of pottage rarely dressed,  
Cooked out with art, to furnish Esau's feast;  
All conquering faith begat that princely boy,  
Give me the blessing which you now enjoy,  
Promised to Abraham for's resignation,  
In Isaac's line, a crown to every nation;  
The blessing fixed in every revolution,  
Though Solomon's Temple had its dissolution.  
All outward glories are eclipsed and gone,  
The King of Kings calls for the heart alone.  
He is, he was before the world begun;  
All things do praise his name, why should not man?  
Uncomprehended, all things comprehending,  
His glory no beginning hath, nor ending.  
The Angels sing inspired with heavenly flame,  
All glory, glory, glory, to his name;  
Spirits of just men in a holy dance,  
Lift up their hands for their deliverance;  
Rejoicing that the tree which knowledge bore,  
Blasted in their fair garden, grows no more,  
Torn by the root with all its bastard race,  
The tree of Life replanted in the place.  
The Nightingale in warbling roundelays,  
Doth make the Valleys echo forth his praise.  
The little Lark mounts up with soaring wing,  
As he would teach the Cherubins to sing.  
About Religion they are not at odds,  
But sing as merrily as the old Gods:  
The little worms which on the earth do crawl,  
Boldly entitle him, their all in all.  
All disagreeing forms in this agreeing,  
He is, he was, the being of all beings.  
And thou with cheerful heart, chant forth his praise,  
Although thy pen cannot deserve the bays;  
Keep on that humble pace thou hast begun,  
Until thy glass it's utmost Sand hath run.  
Enough was said to satisfy my mind,  
I could not see, for Love had made me blind;  
Love hath no ears nor eyes, I call, I cry,  
Give me my Love again for whom I die;  
Let Cupid's army all their forces join,  
Angels to boot, no Love was e'er like mine:  
Bring Damon's Love to Pythias on the stage,  
Who feared not death, nor Dyonisiu's rage:  
Set David's love to his dear Jonathan,  
Bring all the love of all men into one,  
Bring woman's too, whose quick mild sparkling beams  
Makes them most excellent in both extremes;  
Yet mine excels, exceeds them all as far  
As great Apollo doth the meanest star.  
The Usurer, Italian-like, in's breast  
Locks his dear Dallila, in his dark chest.  
The love to woman doth with beauty die,  
If Virtue's chain be not the sacred tie:  
But mine that cannot perish in the tasting,  
Is like the noble object everlasting;  
A love unmeasurable, and unbounded,  
Where firm Foundation cannot be confounded:  
Why then mine only joy dost thou remove,  
From him that hath no life but in thy love?  
The very earth where thou thy foot dost set,  
Doth smell more sweet than Rose or Violet.  
My happiness, my dear delight is lost,  
He's gone to heaven, and thither will I post;  
If any Spirit in my way shall stand,  
Angels, Archangels, are at my command;  
Faith joined with love controlleth the abyss,  
And forceth entrance where no entrance is;  
It batters walls, and breaks down every fence,  
For heaven itself is won by violence;  
It charms the Lion's heart with sacred Spell,  
They have no power to touch a Daniel;  
Subdueth Tyrants, and their armed band,  
Walks on the Sea as if it were dry land;  
It cuts a passage through the watery Stream,  
And raiseth Laz'rus from his drowsy dream:  
The walls of Jericho it doth deflower,  
It stormeth hell, and conquers heaven with power,  
Commandeth trembling Devils to retreat,  
Removeth lofty mountains from their Seat;  
It bids one Sea divide itself in two;  
What thing so difficult Faith cannot do?  
Our Souls are tinder, burning in desire,  
Faith is the flint that striketh up the fire;  
Which being kindled by the gentle Lamb,  
The Spirit blows, and turns it all to flame.  
My dear and only jewel do not fly me,  
Armed with this faith, thy power can't deny me;  
It is decreed, though thousand deaths I die,  
Nothing shall separate my Love and I;  
Through daniel's furnace, and the flames of hell,  
I'll pass to find where my dear Love doth dwell.  
Let hell heap all her fire, fuel on fuel,  
Nor heaven nor hell shall rob me of my jewel;  
Though all created things should strive to thwart us,  
Devils, nor men, nor Angels shall not part us:  
With him for ever I'm resolved to dwell,  
Without whose presence heaven itself were hell.  
O what were Paradise, if we could win it,  
Heaven is not heaven, and my sweet Lord not in it:  
That heaven is heaven, where all delights do grow;  
It is the smiling eye that makes it so;  
His frown's the house of torment, and of night;  
'Tis paradise to be his Favourite;  
My Soul's a prisoner, none but love can bail her,  
Give me that Prison, where love is the Gaoler.   

Hearing my cries, and into pity breaking,  
He was within me while I was thus speaking;  
Words that did love and pity, both provoke them,  
Though I was ignorant, 'twas he that spoke them;  
He touched mine heart, but I had lost my feeling,  
He like the rock did stand, but I was reeling:  
With amorous wine mad drunk, my heart lay panting,  
Something I wanted, knew not what was wanting;  
I sought in foreign countries every way,  
For that rich pearl which in my bosom lay;  
Through Asia, Europe, Africa I roam,  
Hunting abroad, my Jewel was at home.  
He present was, his presence unrevealed,  
He stood before me, but mine eyes were sealed.  
His seeming distance was a piercing dart,  
Though he was never absent from my heart;  
He always lodged in mine heart I see,  
'Twas my beloved was that faith in me;  
I knock at heavens bright gate, my way was blocedk,  
It was not I, but he in me, that knocked;  
Who like a wanton lamb, or skipping Hind,  
In jollity was sporting in my mind;  
With holy violence the door flew open,  
The brazen locks, all bolts and bars were broken.  
Enter the Royal Fort which thou hast gained,  
Fountain of wisdom, holy love unstained;  
Take up thy lodging in my smiling eye,  
Wherein unknown, unmeasured treasures lie;  
With keenest arrow draw thy bended bow,  
But when thou aim'st, aim not at things below:  
Thou shootest at such a mark, that will deceive thee,  
When storms arise, these treacherous friends will leave thee;  
They fleet & flutter like the air that's ranging,  
All Sublunaries subject are to changing:  
The Stars and Planets, like the giddy Ocean,  
Wander uncertainly with wanton motion  
This day, as their aspects would never fade,  
Before the next morn they run retrograde.  
If Jupiter the knot of love doth tie,  
Saturn and Mars dissolve the harmony;  
Hath Venus a fine web of friendship spun,  
Mercury ravels all that she hath done;  
Though Sol be hot, Luna is wondrous cold,  
Fresh youthful amities on earth grow old;  
Art thou infected with some strong disease,  
Why dost thou run unto the Stars for ease?  
How can thy Soul be cured with poisonous plasters?  
These are thy Servants, make them not thy Masters.  
Their whirling wheel is always running round,  
Build not thy hope on such uncertain ground;  
Though by thy fall thou art of low degree,  
I'll mount thee to a throne, and marry thee;  
That I am Lord all creatures they shall know,  
I made thee King Vicegerent here below:  
By disobedience thou didst forfeit all,  
I'll make thee greater, stronger by thy fall;  
I'll land thee on the sweet delightful Shore,  
The land of Peace whence thou canst fall no more.  
Thou art my Virgin-bride, I will assure thee,  
With endless joys my heart shall be thy Dowry:  
Treasures and pleasures of the greatest price,  
With all the glories of sweet Paradise;  
In mine enfolded arms I●le gently take thee;  
When all the world of slippery friends forsake thee.  
The world doth love itself, it's own is dearest,  
When it is furthest off, then am I nearest.  
When friendly death shall cut thy fatal clue,  
Thine extreme unction, shall be Hallelue;  
Death shall no Cobbling nor no Bugbear be,  
But a safe passage to felicity.  
A friendly Ferryman to waft thee o'er,  
Safe from all danger to th' Elysian shore.  
What if he take this garment off that's worn,  
Withered with age, with winter's fury torn?  
From mine own Wardrobe I will  my Dear,  
With garment rich, such as the Angels wear;  
I'll give thee Adam's garment without spot,  
When he was naked, and yet knew it not;  
Rivers of heavenly wine full to the brim,  
Wherein the Prophets and Apostles swim;  
Anthems of joy, thy Soul for ever singing,  
The Tree of life in thine own bosom springing;  
With all the favours of my love I'll grace thee,  
With Doves and towering Eagles I will place thee,  
With all the little lambs that know no guile,  
With constant Martyrs that in death did smile;  
With Cherubins and Seraphims enrolled,  
And all the princely Patriarches of old,  
With Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and the Choir  
That chant my praises on King David's lyre.  
And thou that dost delight in humble verse,  
Poor homely strains, my glory to rehearse,  
Chanting my praise and Babel's overthrow,  
Shalt sing a new Song which thou dost not know;  
Thy Ship hath sailed on Seas where billows roar,  
On thy right hand behold the pleasant shore;  
Now having run thy rude tempestuous race,  
Thy travels end, cast Anchor in this place.  
This is the place of pleasure and delight,  
Upon this Rock thy ne plus ultra write;  
Set up thy Pillar here, 'tis holy ground,  
This is the Rock which hell cannot confound;  
My sleep unto its period now was come,  
I wished 'thad lasted till the day of doom.  
The miracles I saw in this short Dream,  
For some brave 〈◊〉 were a noble Theme,  
Sweet flowing pens, tears from all eyes compelling,  
But mine perhaps hath spoiled the Tale in telling;  
The Sight, strange wonder and amazement drew,  
For when I waked, I found it to be true.     

ITER Bevoriale.  
I sing no civil war, nor what did fall  
To Palmerine or Am●dis de gall:  
Prince Arthur's story shall no paper blot,  
Nor the conceited pranks of Don Quixot;  
If mad Orlando wild and furious be,  
What's his divine Angellica to me?  
Rouse they that list the Lion in his den,  
A brisk and Bonny-Tale flows from my pen;  
Like the idle dreams fanta●…ue Poets feign,  
Or those fond Fables Midwives entertain  
Over a smiling cup of simpering Ale  
Of tall Tom Thumb, and doughty Jack o' th' Vale.  
Now lend your ear, as we from Belvoir came,  
owned by a noble Lord, and princely Dame,  
All our discourse, our welcome, and our 〈◊〉  
Our merry heart's light, as our Purses were:  
We had no ships at Sea, to make us sad,  
Lost in a tempest when the winds are mad;  
We never did abuse the Commonweal,  
By virtue of our place, and the Broad Seal,  
As some Land Pirates, nor all down the hate  
And heavy curse of an incensed State;  
We broach no projects, no inventions brew,  
Nor damn old Doctrine by inventing new:  
Plunder the public for our private gain,  
Nor are we Spies or Pensioners to Spain:  
I hope it is no Treason then to sing,  
And say, God bless our Sovereign Lord the KING.  
With such clear Souls like sober Snails we creep  
To our desired Harbour where we sleep  
Sounder than Swallows, or industrious Bees,  
Who rest all winter in old hollow trees.  
Sol now is climbing up the Eastern hill,  
Our mornings-draught good boy, and then a Bill.  
〈…〉 imis Sawee, what Reckoning have we here?  
●●m for Fire, Tobacco, wine and Beer:  
Summa totalis: Well the tother pot,  
And then thy Mistress lip shall clear the shot.  
So taking leave of every Chamberlain,  
Lo at the door, the Ghost of Tamburlaine,  
Of bulk as burly as an Oak, stood forth  
A sturdy Gallant sailing from the North:  
Fair Sirs, said he, will you be pleased to own  
A wand'ring Traveller that is unknown;  
The ways are foul, and we have far to ride,  
He that's alone doth measure every stride:  
That in the tented field I have been bred,  
Where winking Stars have lighted me to bed,  
Circled with pale-faced Death on every side,  
●s such a truth that cannot be denied;  
●eap you the pleasure of my passed broils,  
●eed on my language, and forget the miles.  
To this in courtesy we did consent,  
●o up we got, and on our Journey went.  
To pay my love, which he accounts a charge,  
●e draws the Picture of his life at large:  
●y Jove said he, I more degrees have run,  
Than Drake or Candish, or the trav'ling Sun;  
●he proudest Kingdoms in the world have kissed  
●y wand'ring foot, I have them in a list,  
●uina, Madagascar, and Japan;  
●ook in the Map, the world is but a span,  
●e Globe a Football kicked from pole to pole;  
●e that hath Gold is sure to win the Goal.  
●y self first found the passage to Cathay,  
●●rra del Fogo, and incognita;  
●hot the Gulf, leapt o'er the Line at noon,  
●hence passed to the new world in the moon;  
●he horrid battles, O the dismal wars  
●hat I have seen, witness these speaking scars,  
Which like so many gaping mouths appear,  
●nd I as bracelets on my limbs do wear.  
●s language was all Thunder, when he spoke,  
●…e thought the centre of the earth did shake.  
●y Sanco panco, much dejected Reeve,  
●●ke a pale Image pulls me by the sleeve;  
●●en whispers in mine ear, good Sir be wise,  
Do you not see those pistols in his eyes  
That shoot me dead? are all thy spirits fled?  
Where's that grave Oracle? that subtle head  
Wrapped in a Turban Mahomet put on,  
When he did frame his foolish Koran.  
Thy body too, in more warm woollen clad  
Than thy great Grandsire; courage then my Lad;  
Entrenched in thine own palisado lie,  
And all the Instruments of death defy.  
Gun, Dagger, Sword, Grannado, and Petar,  
What other engines by the Sons of war,  
At hand devised for slaughter, or aloof,  
A wastcoteer so lined is Cannon-proof.  
Words are but wind, the silly Swain was sick,  
By nature and complexion Phlegmatic.  
A trembling Palsy on his heart did sit,  
Like one arrested with an Ague-fit,  
At last kind Soul he weeps, shaking his head,  
With broken hollow voice, Sir we are dead,  
We are beset, besieged, by Sea and land;  
And his companions in each corner stand  
Like forlorn Scouts, see see yon yonder hill?  
I nothing see, but Bushes and a Mill.  
O they are men, it is in vain to fly,  
And I alas am not prepared to die.  
I have that golden bait, that dainty dish,  
For which these greedy Cormorants do fish;  
False Traitor to betray me in distress,  
Accursed gold I never loved thee less;  
With all my heart, would I were rid of thee,  
A hand to boot, so my dear life were free.  
How will my wife and children entertain  
The heavy news, to hear that I am slain?  
My sides grew fat with laughter at the man,  
Methought they were enlarged more than a span;  
Yet putting on a seeming face of fear,  
When lo, my Servant who did over-bear  
All our discourse, and understood my mind,  
Spurs up his Palfry swifter than the wind;  
Breathless a while he pauses, then in haste  
Tells the bold Cavalier all that had passed:  
And that he may be suited for the Scene,  
Lays open all Johns gold, his heart I mean.  
The morn was close, fit for the work in hand,  
A misty darkness covers all the Land;  
His liquid fear did much increase by this,  
And Fear the mother of devotion is;  
His Soul extracted from immortal birth  
Had till this hour been buried in the earth,  
But now was fairly travelling to heaven,  
Large his accounts, and how to make them even  
His time was little, but his voyage long,  
His faith was weak, his sins were wondrous strong,  
Yet now he sends his hover thoughts before,  
Like nimble spies to scale the narrow door.  
Up comes my Gallant, on whom John did look  
As doth the prisoner that's denied his book.  
But he grim Sir, pitching his subtle hay,  
Lest over acting should undo the play:  
Inquires how rotten sheep did stand that year,  
What prices , corn, and wool did bear;  
Seasons and times, for selling and for seeding,  
As if his whole time had been spent in reading  
Old Almanacs nine Summers out of date;  
On whom he leans, more than the book of Fate.  
Then Booker's Prophecies he doth unfold,  
Valued with those Scybilla sang of old.  
O happy men said he, who never roam  
In foreign countries from your native home;  
Your days with plenty crowned, ending your lives  
In the chaste arms of your beloved wives:  
But we torn from our cradles to be hurled  
By cruel fate into the rugged world,  
Like Bastards of the earth at our return,  
Encounter nothing but contempt and scorn:  
Where you in pity of our wants allow,  
Wretched reward, a halter and a bough.  
But by this steel, this steel that I unsheathe,  
 I will end my days so dry a death.  
A grinning wry-mouthed death, I'll kill pell mell  
Five hundred churls, and send them all to hell:  
And this by Mars, and all the Gods I swear.  
The amazed Swain seeing the storm so near,  
For shelter sought his fearful head to hid,  
His rusty Sword hung loosely by his side.  
But he thereon dare not his safety build,  
His Rippon Spurs are now both sword and shield.  
His foaming Steed companion of his fright,  
Did like a Whirlwind, snatch him from our sight:  
We follow after like the greedy Hound,  
And when he cannot to our eye be found,  
We haunt him by the nose; for in the wind,  
The Fox had left a filthy scent behind:  
In this sweet pickle, melancholy sick,  
Bathed all in Sweat, and something that did stick  
Like yellow Birdlime, to his limber thighs,  
The stingless Bee to his own cottage flies;  
'Tis true, he brought no Honey to his Hive;  
But Wax good store: 'twas well he scaped alive.  
His Wife salutes him, in whose welcome arms,  
In brief he tells part of his passed harms;  
The rest he apprehends; for out of doubt  
The witty Girl soon smelled the matter out.   

On the Royal Sovereign.  
Proteus' grand Shepherd of the foaming deep,  
That feedest thy scaley herds like flocks of sheep,  
Hold up thy shaggy head; lo here doth come  
A greater miracle than Thetis womb  
Did ever bear; a royal frame composed  
May vie with Noah's Vessel, that enclosed  
All nature's store; who else had found her grave,  
A floating Island dancing on the wave.  
So Delos wandering Isle, or Poets feign,  
Till mighty Jove did fix her in the main.  
In ages that succeed why may not she  
Pulled from the Sea, part of the firm land be?  
Part did I say; how vainly do I dote?  
Thou art a little world; the world a boat  
Compared to thee: the passenger no more  
Salutes thee for a Ship, but for a shore:  
Who scorched with heat, then nipped with northern blast  
With storm and tempest tossed, when he at last  
His long desired harbour sees at hand,  
Shall spring for joy, and throw himself on land.  
The nice Philosopher with curious eye,  
Finds in the horned Moon a Colony:  
As they to us, why may not this afar  
Appear to them to be a blazing Star?  
But whether thou a Star or Comet be,  
That wandering world stands gazing now on thee,  
On thee their Sun: blest nations of the night  
Who from thy beams receive their borrowed light,  
Neptune no more a god, for thou shalt reign  
Star of the Sea and shine in Charles his Wain.   

A Poetical Strain.  
To Dr. Hiam Theolog. Medicum.  
I were uncharitable should I desire  
Consumption, pestilence, fierce raging fire  
Of scorching Fever, Surfeit, and the Wench,  
That borrows English coin, but pays in French;  
Cold poisonous air, hot meteors that inflame,  
With thousand others which I fear to name,  
Should blast the widowed world and make her wear●  
A mourning weed: thy fame and art t' endear.  
My Love shall be more modest, I will pray  
Thy charms may conjure all these Fiends away.  
May'st thou by quintessence of thy great skill  
Restore more lives than Mountebanks do kill;  
While they employed to cure the leprous Itch,  
The worms in children, or some Female stitch  
Got by a wanton slip, from Pisspots win  
Brown-bread, and thread-bare-cloaths; or in the sin●  
Share with the Devil, and converse with Smocks,  
Till they themselves be peppered with the Pox.  
Mayst thou things high and excellent acquire;  
That all thy Tribe may envy and admire;  
The Gout, the Stone, which ope' the Usurers eye  
To see the torture, rack, and cruelty,  
Which he hath laid on others; for his health,  
Would now (tho' unwilling) part with all his wealth,  
Be fully cured by thee; but not before  
His bags be safely landed on thy shore;  
And thou with this rich prize so justly won,  
Build Hospitals for those he hath undone.  
May the young fry fall sick, grow lean and wan,  
And long for thee more than they do for man.  
May every female-patient be a lover,  
By feeling of their pulse let them recover  
Green-sickness: Were their fame and honour fled  
●et them redeem both that and Maidenhead,  
●et them from all diseases be set free  
Not by thy Drugs, but confidence in thee.  
●et aged Madams on whose furrowed brow  
●ald time hath worn deep wrinkles with his plough,  
Their hourglass turn as full of juicy sap  
●s when they danced in their mother's lap:  
●ick nature by thy help as healthful grow,  
●s when our father Adam held the plough:  
●ay all thy Patients live the perfect date  
Of old Methusalem, and in a state  
●s strong. And thou for making others sound  
With glorious immortality be crowned.   

Two Poetical Epistles to two Friends.  

Epist. 1.  
When all things out of frame grow wondrous scurvy,  
And nature from her course turns tops● turvy;  
When horses ride on men with Spur and Switch,  
And Scholars do put down their master's britch;  
When Princes to their people do stand bare,  
When Dogs do fly before the fearful Hare,  
When Maids command their Mistresses by patten,  
When beggars ruffle in their Silk and Satin,  
When Ostlers teach their horses Greek and Latin▪  
When Gallants walk on foot, and footmen ride,  
When Noblemen run lackeys by their side:  
When th' elements from nature's course do turn,  
When fire shall drown the earth, and water burn;  
When lofty mountains congee to the vale,  
When Pigs sing sweeter than the Nightingale,  
When Pearls and Oysters grow on Oaken trees,  
When in the midst of Summer it shall freeze,  
When all this comes to pass, which cannot be,  
Yet shall I then prove faithful unto thee.   

Epist. 2.  
GIve me a Sidney's Pen, which dipped in wine  
Made his Philoclea more than half divine:  
Summon the Poets, none shall march before us,  
Thou my Pancela, I thy Musidorus.  
Shepherds, and Shepherdess's, framed in story  
To mint a female, made of Masculine glory;  
Muster to these all the brave old Commanders,  
The Scipio's, Caesars, and the Alexanders,  
With bills and swords they made all nations fly:  
But Livia with the Magic of her eye,  
Doth lead the world in chains of love divine,  
Conquering all hearts; I'm sure sh' hath conquered mine.  
Since I am grown to be thy Galleyslave,  
Give me the privilege which prisn'ers have,  
My liberty being lost, by Cupid's charms,  
To live and die a prisoner in thine arms.  
Nectar, Ambrosia, purely here I sip;  
The Muses nine they all dwell on thy lip.  
Swimming in love, no pleasure now shall pass us,  
Thou art my Helicon and my Parnassus.    

On a Gentleman who lost his Mistress called Nancy, (at the same time) also his Hawk of the same Name.  

Will't thou forsake me thus my dearest Nancy,  
To wander o'er the world in a wild fancy,  
To couple with an Owl wantonly ranging  
Till thou hast cloyed thyself with often changing?  
An Eagle was my Dove,  
True, as the Turtle-Dove  
If she a faller prove,  
Farewell my Nancy.   

Come my bird of Paradise thus I conjure thee,  
Illo, ho, ho, my love, when I did lure thee   

Thou wouldst come stooping down like clap of Thunder,  
And like a falling star cleave the air asunder.  
Then hover o'er my head,  
Who, hoop, the game is dead;  
Yet thou art from me fled,  
Farewell etc.   

Thy feathers were more soft than maiden tresses,  
I gave thee bells to wear,  
Varvels and jesses,  
Casting to keep thee clean  
Made of white Flannel,  
When thy limbs bathing were,  
I was thy Spani'l,  
I gave the stones good store,  
Yet thou didst play the whore,  
And wilt return no more.  
Farewell &c   

Sweet Plover was thy food,  
Partridge and Pigeon,  
Thrush, Feldifare and Snipe  
Woodcock and Widgeon,  
Quail, Pheasant, Duck and Teal,  
the pretty Bunting,   

And she that sweetly sings  
whilst she is mounting.  
Yet thou art gone astray,  
On worms and mice to prey,  
Beetles that eat the day.  
Farewell etc.   

Now since thou art so coy  
If e'er I catch thee,  
False Kite, to keep thee tame  
I'll sit and watch thee;  
I'll hood those rolling eyes  
that shoot at rovers,  
And mew thee in a cage from thy fond lovers.  
Cupid's a wanton child,  
True lovers are beguiled,  
Beware Hawk and Wenches wild.  
Farewell etc.    

A cold Journey, and cold Entertainment.  
UNto a country farm I lately came,  
Where I hung like a picture in a frame,  
'Twas in the wintry cold month of December,  
Her frosty frowns forget, her smiles remember.  
Fare would content Apicius to his mind,  
Then who dare say my Landlord was unkind.  
His broth was wondrous good, but with the ladle  
He banged my noddle, till my brains grew addle.  
A trembling Schoolboy I demurely stand  
My master with a ferrula in his hand  
If I but blow my nose, or wink, or nod,  
Or smile, or look awry, fetch me my rod:  
Poor men are fools, wisdom attends the rich;  
Which made me readily put down my brich.  
He that at great men's tables takes a seat,  
Hath freedom to do nothing else but eat;  
If he have wit he must not spread his banners,  
For that were blasphemy against good manners;  
This learned Lesson my Praeceptor knew,  
His what, his when, and why, even to a cue.  
Quick-eyed he was to see and understand,  
And always carried in his reverend hand  
A multiplying glass, wherein was shown  
The errors of mankind, all but his own.  
The good and evil mixed, made me believe  
This was the garden where our mother Eve  
Upon that cursed fruit did freely feed,  
Which poisoned herself, and all her seed.  
Words steeped in vinegar, and spending money;  
Hemlock and ●itter wormwood, mixed with honey:  
Such as poor beggars purchase to their cost,  
A gentle aims, and then a whipping-post.  
I came invited to this double banquet,  
Laid in a bed of down, tossed in a blanket;  
The Gospel here, there, Moses bloody banners,  
A lincic-woolsie Medly of all manners:  
Kindness, unkindness, should I sum up all,  
Sugar two ounces with one ounce of Gall.  
Which being tempered with the oil of Saunders,  
Would make an excellent medicine for the Glanders;  
Hallo my fancy whither wilt thou fly?  
Hath my kind host some faults, and have not I?  
God pardon all; O be not too sharp sighted,  
If he be in the dark, thou art benighted.  
He's in the oven, and I am in the fire,  
He's in the dirt, and I wade in the mire.  
He hath some pimples on his face that shine:  
And have not I, poor I! a mole on mine?  
Now that I may not crow, or hang the wing,  
In equal balance let me weigh the thing:  
The good I have received I will enrol,  
Fairly ingraved in a marble scroll;  
All stains and blemishes I'll blot with Ink,  
And not to see I'll shut mine eyes and wink.   

Upon my return hence, with little wit, and less money, being alone; I took a dangerous fall from my Horse.  
REnowned Drake from Pole to Pole was hurled,  
In his long voyage round about the world:  
Such strange, miraculous wonders, could not see,  
As I, who shot a greater gulf than he;  
When I fell from my horse in deadly swoon,  
Where I saw stars, to Tycho Brache unknown;  
Fire from mine eyes did flame, the skies flew open,  
My back quoth I, and all my ribs are broken.  
Here I beheld as I lay on the ground,  
In pain and grief, that th' Universe went round:  
Upon my back, which made me much dismayed,  
The burden of the world was wholly laid.  
A fancy took me which did little please,  
That I was sailing to th' Antipodes;  
Had not some mountains interposed my way,  
I had discovered them that fatal day.  
False friends, and dirty ways, henceforth forbear;  
Dull jades and winter journeys, I forswear:  
With pity to poor carriers, forced to go  
O'er rocks of ice and monstrous hills of snow;  
Let others travel countries' strange, to see  
Surely I thought 'twas the world's end with me.   

A DIALOGUE. A conference between two plain countrymen, Tom, and Will, about deep matters of Religion.  
CANTO.  
Tune— The Drainers are up  Tom. 

Good Neighbour Will, I prithee be plain,  
With what religion shall we close,  
Since every Sect doth stiffly maintain  
That the tree of life in their garden grows?  
Will. Ic'h tell thee Tom, ' c have found the best,  
Whatever men do write or say,  
If thy vessel be bound for the city of rest,  
True neighbourly love is the only way.   

Let us fly away from the land of strife,  
The Lamb hath bought us with a price,  
And post to the holy river of life  
Which glideth through our Paradise.  
See how those heavenly streams do set  
To fill our Souls with a living flood,  
The tree of knowledge we will forget,  
But the tree of life shall be our food.   

The way to this river so pure and so clear,  
Which through the valley of love doth glide,  
By resignation we must steer,  
Humility is our faithful guide.  
By faith we travel to a princely town  
Which wise men do call the father's will,  
Here we in the Sabaoth of rest will sit down,  
And set up our tents on Mount Sion's hill.   

In the Ocean of love let us freely swim:  
To thee, my Joy, I drink this cup,  
Come fill up the bowl unto the brim,  
'Tis liquor divine, then drink it all up;  
Drink merrily Tom, the Fountain it flows,  
We have no enmity nor gall;  
This cup to our friends, and this to our foes,  
A hearty carouse we tipple to all.   Tom. 

Let us take the to ' there pull,  
This liquor will make all darkness fly,  
Why should we spare? the Fountain is full,  
And never can be drained dry.  
Let greedy Misers wade in the mire,  
Let squint-eyed envy murder his brother,  
Let hatred and malice remain in the fire,  
Pure Nectar we drink and love one another.   

Let Pharisees pray till their knees grow bare,  
Let Gamesters cog the subtle dye  
Let Huntsmen pursue the silly Hare  
Let sober Citizens cousin and lie;  
Let Courtiers dissemble, let Scholars read  
The quirks and quibbles of old Aristotle,  
Let Soldiers fight, let Littleton plead,  
We'll cheerfully tame the tother bottle.   

From North to South, from East to West  
Inventions through the world do range,  
Opinions in fine garments dressed  
Like blazing Comets of the brain,  
About religion they make foul work,  
And into bloody wars they fall,  
The Heathen, the Jew, the Christian, the Turk,  
This liquor will reconcile them all.   

The flowers drink the pearly dew,  
Like merry drunkards all in a row,  
What though they are of various hue  
In neighbourly love together grow;  
They merrily tipple and sweetly agree,  
No quarrel about their cups they move,  
They drink to each other, then why should not we  
Drink liberal cups of innocent love?    

A SONG.  
TUNE. Such a Rogue's a Round-head.  

What's he who breaks the thunder crack,  
And bids the raging Sea go back,  
Unto his voice inclined;  
Who doth the angry Ocean still,  
And makes the winds obey his will?  
Jehovah unconfined.   

What's he who gives the Sparrows meat,  
And moves the rocks out of their seat,  
Where first they were designed;  
Who doth the crystal Springs invite,  
And  the lilies all in white?  
Jehovah unconfined.   

what's he who doth the stars advance,  
Whilst round about the Globe they dance,  
With earthquake and with thunder;  
Destroys great Cities of renown,  
And makes the hills come tumbling down?  
It is the Lord of wonder.   

The Tiger I do keep in awe  
And to the Lion am a law  
By my sole power confined;  
'Tis I that bond the Sea and land,  
Yet I above all bounds do stand,  
Jehovah unconfined.   

With eagle's wings survey all lands  
Number th' innumerable sands,  
And write them in a story;  
View every thing that's gone and passed,  
Though time itself must end at last  
There's no end of my glory.   

The clouds I suck out of the Seas,  
And make them fall where I do please  
To fill the earth with treasure;  
The Sea, the Sands, the stars survey,  
The mountains in a balance weigh,  
My power thou canst not measure.   

All things do in and to me flow,  
The things above and those below  
Are Servants to my pleasure;  
The heights, the depths, are in my hand,  
The bredths and lengths at my command,  
My power thou canst not measure.   

The Rant is dead, the Quake must die,  
All forms before my presence fly,  
By my sole power designed,  
The Names they are the stumbling stone,  
Eternal life in all is one.  
Jehovah unconfined.   

Thy wisdom, will, and holy show,  
Must perish like the early dew;  
And when thou art resigned,  
I'll take thee in mine arms again,  
For I in thee alone will reign  
Jehovah unconfined.   

If sweetness be thy souls delight,  
Carnation, Pink, and Lilies white,  
All flowers bound up in posies,  
Arabian Gums and Indian spice,  
My bosom is the Paradise  
The Paradise of Roses.   

The secret Cabinets below,  
Where yellow gold and silver grow  
Do all obey my pleasure,  
Pearls, Diamonds, that sparkling be,  
All these am I, come dwell with me,  
And I will be thy treasure.    

A Catholic Hymn.  
TUNE. If there be a Phoenix in the world, 'tis she.  

OPinion rules the humane state,  
And domineers in every land,  
Shall Seas and Mountains separate  
Whom God hath joined in nature's band?  
Dwell they far off or dwell they near,  
They are all my Father's children dear.   

Features and colours of the hair,  
Why meet they not in harmony?  
The yellow, black, the brown, the fair,  
All tinctures of variety;  
In single simple love alone,  
Millions of colours are but one.   

The Nightingale doth never say,  
Though he be King of harmony,  
Unto the Cuckoo, and the Jay,  
Why sing you not so sweet as I?  
Each sing their own in loves fair eye,  
Their tongues complete one melody.   

Lend me the bright wings of the morn,  
That I about the world may run,  
From Cancer unto Capricorn,  
Far swifter than the flaming Sun.  
Where e'er my winged Soul doth fly;  
All's fair and lovely in mine eye.   

In the phlegmatic I sweetness find,  
The melancholy grave and wise,  
The sanguine merry to my mind,  
From choler flames of love arise:  
In single simple love alone,  
All these complexions are but one.   

Behold the painful labouring hand,  
And those that keep their harmless sheep,  
The country Swain that ploughs the land,  
The Merchant that doth plough the deep;  
Each do their work in love alone,  
One works for all, and all for one.   

With open arms let me embrace  
The Heathen, Christian, Turk and Jew,  
The lovely and deformed face,  
The sober and the Jovial Crew;  
For this I see, in love alone  
All forms and features are but one.   

I love with all mine heart and soul,  
The French, the Dutch, the Englishman,  
The Dane, the Swede, the Turk the Pole,  
The Spaniard and the African;  
For this I see, in love alone  
All nations reconciled are one.   

Thence sail I with my love as far  
As China, to the Indian shore,  
The Arctic and Antarctic Star,  
The Tawny and the Blackamoor,  
From thence I travel round about  
To countries never yet found out.   

My heart, my heart, is very sick,  
All nations of the earth I woe,  
My Soul is turning Catholic,  
And so is my religion too;  
The Deity in all doth move,  
So universal is my love.    

An Hymn of Love,  
TUNE. True blue etc.  

Gentle love hath no dissension  
In our holy Christendom,  
He will end all wild contention,  
Hell and death he'll overcome.   

Love that's of no price accounted  
Tossed like a Tennis-ball,  
On his white horse bravely mounted,  
He will ride to conquer all.   

Heaven and Hell with wealth shall store him,  
The fatness of the holy land,  
Victory doth march before him,  
The Lamb and Dove at his right hand.   

To the battle he advances;  
His colour's oriental blue,  
Not with guns and ordinances,  
Adversaries to subdue.   

In his eye there are such blisses,  
Enemies it overthrows;  
With embraces smiles and kisses,  
He will conquer all his foes.   

Low humility befriends him,  
Meekness patience and the rest,  
Noble charity attends him  
To provide for every guest.   

Here's no begging or entreating,  
None do labour blow or sow,  
●od provided without sweeting,  
The tree of life doth freely grow.   

In his house there dwells no danger,  
Steward Hospitality  
Kindly welcomes every stranger  
Pressed with friendless poverty.   

Bounty crowneth all their wishes,  
Entertains with cheerful breast,  
Plenty ushers in the dishes,  
Grand purveyor of the feast.   

Dishes rich innumerable:  
But of all this princely fare,  
Quoth love mine heart is on the table,  
Feed, my Joy, and do not spare.   

Noble Angels sweetly singing  
Tunes of heavenly melody,  
In the midst a fountain springing,  
They that drink can never die.   

Measured dances nimbly tracing,  
Fires of love that always flame,  
Hugging, kissing, and embracing,  
Singing praises to the Lamb.   

Love within, and love without them,  
Love doth all his treasure lend,  
Peace and joy dwells round about them,  
Peace and joy that hath no end.   

Immanuel is all our story,  
He is our royal diadem,  
To him be glory, glory, glory,  
We are his new Jerusalem.    

An Epitaph Hymn, etc.  
On the death of the Lady Maria Manors, daughter to the noble Earl and Heroick Countess of Rutland, and Sister to the Lord Ross.  

Maiden of honour born of princely stem,  
A virgin in the new Jerusalem,  
Rose in sweet Paradise, plucked in the morn,  
In her dear Virgin bridegrooms bosom worn;  
Angels about this angel dance and sing,   

Music when love doth move on every string;  
Among the Martyrs and the heavenly Choir,  
Numbered with those who chant to David's lyre.  
New triumphs now exchanged for transitory,  
On her fair temples a rich crown of glory;  
Rivers of pleasure full unto the brink,  
Such as the Prophets and Apostles drink.    

The Angel's entertainment in eandem.  
Welcome sweet Angel to our crystal bowers,  
A star thou art among the immortal powers;  
To be a Lamb in the grand shepherds flock  
Is more than to be born of princely stock.  
Thou now hast scaped those doubts, those cares, and fears,  
Which would have waited on thy riper years;  
Thy lover till December would not stay,  
But hug'd thee hence in thy fresh blooming May.  
A Dove among the Doves thou here may'st play,  
Cutting thy passage through the milky way:  
Till thy dear Bridegroom with his favour grace thee,  
Whose arms are always open to embrace thee.   

Hymnus in eandem. The Bridegroom's Salutation.  
TUNE. When the stormy winds do blow.  

I Took thee on a sudden  
In all thy glories dressed,  
I cropped thee in the budding  
To wear thee in my breast:  
My rosy blooming blossom,  
My lovely flower thou art,  
I'll hug thee in my bosom  
A jewel in mine heart.   

Thou hast given me thy virgin power  
Mine honour to advance,  
And all the joys that heaven can shower  
Are thine inheritance;  
I'll tincture thee with blisses  
My flames of love to pay  
With sweet unnumbered kisses  
We dally out the day.   

The Angels are invited,  
The Supper ready dressed,  
The holy lamps are lighted  
For our eternal feast:  
Banquets to thy desiring  
On tables rich appear,  
I'll give thee such attiring  
The noble Angels wear.  
The sacred knot which I have knit  
No power can untie,  
Duallity I'll not admit,  
Our We is turned to I;  
One heavenly flesh, one blood and bone,  
One life not transitory,  
The Male, and Female both in one,  
One undivided glory.   

I'll gather thee sweet posies,  
Sweet posies of rich price,  
Of July-flowers and Roses  
That grow in Paradise.  
Let shepherds call on Phillis  
As fair as fair may be,  
More beautiful than Lilies  
My Jewel is to me.  
The Cherubims advancing  
In all their beams of light,  
The little Angels dancing  
About this Angel bright.  
Sweet harmony rebounded  
In all the heavenly Spheres,  
Such melody ne'er sounded  
In any mortal ears.    

A Song of Hospitality.  
TUNE. The Drainers are up, They threaten to drain the Kingdom dry▪  

GIve me the golden age again  
When wine did welcome every guest,  
When that good Knight Sr. Loyn did reign,  
Plover and Partridge did fly to the feast,  
Since bold Copernicus hath found  
New nations never known before;  
The tottering world by turning round  
Hath turned poor Charity out of door.   

Where's the bouncing Buck we so much boast,  
Whereon good fellows did hearty feed,  
When Shoulder of mutton did rule the roast;  
O then 'twas a merry world indeed!  
What's become of our Capon, our Chicken and Veal,  
The Miser engrosseth them all in his Hutch,  
Longwinded prayer, and lefthanded zeal  
Makes lame hospitality lean on a crutch.   

A Gammon of Bacon is very good meat  
With a piping Pig new drawn from the spit,  
With ploughing on both sides the Ploughman doth sweat;  
That worlds at an end, now the Devil a bit;  
March beer in black Jacks as big as one's waste,  
But locks and keys have rob the Hall,  
When our friendly 
* wine of Catholic Love.  liquor they freely do taste.  
The Buttery and pantry will fly open to all.    

SELF.  
O Self! that art the cause of all our sadness,  
The whole world is involved in thy madness;  
And I that writ this, would that I could see,  
Accursed Self, that I were rid of thee.  
Had Self been hanged on Judas tree,  
Had he been drowned in Pharaoh's fall,  
But O! he lives in thee and me,  
To plague and to torment us all:  
Self-reason doth all mischief breed.  
The Tyrant proud that would be King,  
The Serpent and the Serpent's seed,  
The Dragon with envenomed sting,  
Herod that did the children slay,  
False Judas that did Christ betray,  
True love doth conquer hell and sin  
Were't not for love that cures all evils,  
Disarms the angry Cherubin,  
This world were a mere den of Devils;  
Th'arraign, condemn, at their own bar,  
Thieves punish thiefs, all Judges are.   

A Littany.  

FRom drinking up the labourer's sweat,  
From making war without a Warrant,  
From climbing to the Judgement Seat,  
From running on a sleeveless errand,  
From all my fetters set me free  
And from myself deliver me.   

From the dissemblers yea and nay,  
From Pharaoh's kindness, Kedars' Tent,  
From daubing with untempered clay,  
From stoning of the innocent,  
Good Lord deliver me.   

From unbelief, fond cares, and fears,  
From a long Bill of a Tailor,  
From the Hiena's murdering tears;  
From the deep dungeon of a Jailor,  
Good Lord etc.   

From close dissemblers with two faces,  
From a false, lying, double tongue,  
From Catchpoles and their kind embraces,  
From lingering Lawsuits nine lives long  
Good Lord etc.   

From all stubborn disobedience,  
From Wolves that would devour the flock,  
From Peter's foolish confidence,  
But give me Peter's watchful Cock,  
Good Lord I pray thee.   

From the inventions of man's brain,  
From the foul curse of being rich,  
From Gog and Magogs' cursed train,  
And from the Apple that did Eve bewitch,  
Good Lord deliver me.   

From Sina's thunder, Babel's Tower,  
From those that fly with borrowed wing,  
From Caterpillars that devour  
The noble Lily that doth spring,  
Good Lord etc.   

From Herod and the man of sin,  
From Jonah's Whale and perishing Gourd,  
From the fierce angry Cherubin  
And from the fiery flaming sword,  
Good Lord etc.   

From north-east winds when they do blow,  
From winter journeys without coin  
From travelling to Jericho,  
Where Thiefs my jewel did purloin,  
Good Lord etc.   

Let me escape thy raging ire,  
Thy Thunderbolts O do not dart!  
And from thine angry flaming fire,  
O hid me in thy tender heart;  
In thy dear heart I shall be free  
Enthroned in perfect liberty.  
Good Lord hear me.   

Drain up those weeping springs of tears,  
Thy Hurricano's let them cease,  
Thy frowns awaken horrid fears,  
But in thy smiles are joy and peace.  
Good Lord hear me.   

Give me a constant faithful mind,  
To meet thy mercy at the last,  
That I may full forgiveness find:  
Let me forgive all that is past.  
Good Lord hear me.    

A Sovereign Receipt for the Eyes, and Hearing, etc.  

LOok not asquint, or neighbours failing mind,  
The faults thine own, which thou in him dost find;  
To all his errors lend thy deaf'ned ear,  
Speak well of him, and then thou well shalt hear.  

Probatum est.     

Dysticks.  

BLess me from Guns, they kill the lame, the blind:  
The Ordinance of love saves all Mankind.   

Seek not to man, a mere created thing  
For what thou want'st, go boldly to the King.   

The Soul with life continually is fed  
When Love and Charity lie in one bed.   

The water of eternal life we gather,  
When we receive the meek love of the Father.   

My dark dry Soul was Aaron's withered rod,  
By Jesus springeth ' it'h Paradise of God.   

God breathed life into this little span,  
Himself the Breather breathed into man.   

Carry my thirsty Soul, O holy Dove!  
Into my Father's flaming heart of love.   

Christ and the Father's one, and we in him,  
Crowned with joy, in all his glory swim.   

They needs must live a sweet and pleasant life,  
Where Love's the Husband, Charity the Wife.    
FINIS.   

A Newfound Medicine for maladies, not hazardous, desperate, or violent; but safe, and sure, pleasant, palatable, and comfortable; not putting nature to any stress, but greatly strengthening, relieving, and enabling her to encounter with her malignant enemies, etc. Found out (this instant— 1671) By the great care and study of ABC. H.  
Item There may be had pleasant cordialities, for the prevention of Diseases, procuration of cheerfulness, improvement of Diet, and supply of Spirits.  
From Mr. Waddis his House in Barns September 24. 1671.  
Inquire at Mr. Horners at the King's head in Whites Alley in Chancery lane for Capt. Sambach, betimes any morning, and from eleven till one, and you may have farther Information and directions, etc.   

Books sold by Thomas Passenger at the Three Bibles on London-Bridge.  

A Mirror or Looking-glass for Saints and Sinners, showing the justice of God on the one, and his mercy towards the other. Set forth in some thousand of examples by Sam. Clark late Minister of Bennet-Finck London, in 2 Volumes in folio.  
Royal and Practical Chemistry, by Oswaldus Crollius, and John Hartman, faithfully rendered into English, folio, price 10 s.  
God's revenge against murder, by John Reynolds, containing thirty Tragical stories, digested into six Books, newly reprinted, folio, price 10 s.  
Lord Bacon's Natural history, folio, price 8 s.  
Sandy's Travels, containing a description of the Turkish Empire, of Egypt and the Holy Land, of the remote parts of Italy, and Islands adjoining, folio, price 8 s.  
Markham's Masterpiece.  
Roman Antiquitiess by Tho. Godwin, quarto, price 2 s. 6 d.  
The famous History of the destruction of Troy, in three books, quarto, price 3 s.  
Valentine and Orson, price 18 d.  
Etimologicum parvum, by Francis Gregory, octavo, prite 3 s.  
Chemical essays, by John Begumis, price 1 s. 8 d.  
Spiritual Antidotes against sinful contagion, by Tho. Doolittle, price 18 d.  
Pools Dialogue betwixt a Papist and a Protestant, twelve, price bound 1 s.  
Monasticon Favershamiense; or a description of the Abbey of Faversham, octavo, price bound 18 d.  
The Christians Crown of glory; or Holiness the way to happiness, octavo, price bound 18 d.  
The path way to health, price bound 18 d.  
The complete Academy, or Nursery of compliments, bound 1 s.  
The book of knowledge in three parts, price 10 d.  
The book of Palmistry in octavo, price bound 18 d.  
The Wise Virgin, being a narrative of Gods dealing with Martha Hatfield, price bound 18 d.  
The Pilgrim's port, or the weary man's rest in the grave, in twelves, price bound 1 s.  
The famous History of the five wise Philosophers, containing the Life of Jehosaphat, Son of Avenerio, Emperor of Carma, and his wonderful conversion to the Christian faith.  
The great Assize by Sam. Smith.  
The delectable History of Amadis de Gaul.  
The pleasant History of Paladine of England.  
The Bear-baiting of Women.  
The History of Friar Bacon and Friar Bungy.  
New conceited Letters.  
The Jovial Garland containing all the newest songs that are now used.  
The penitent Prodigal, or a gracious Reproof for pharisaical Saints, by J. H.  
The Christians best exercise in the worst of times, by J. H.  
Scarborough Spa, being a description of the nature and virtues of the Spa of Scarborough in Yorkshire, by Doctor Witty.  
The French Schoolmaster.  
Farnabies' Epigrams.  
Newtons' Art of Logic.  
Newtons' Art of Rhetoric.  
The famous History of Don Bellianis of Greece, in three parts being now complete.  
The famous History of Montelion, Knight of the Oracle.