Effigies Francisci Quarles.  
Aetatis Suae 52.   portrait of Francis Quarles 
Pictor adumbravit Vultum guem cernimus, hast hic  
Non valet egregias pingere mentis Opens.  
Has siscire cupis, sua consule Carmina, in illis  
Dotes percipies pectoris eximias.  
What here we see is but a Graven face.  
Only the shadow of that brittle case  
Wherein were treasured up those Gems, which he  
Hath loft behind him to Posterity.  Al: Ross. W. M sculp:   

SOLOMON'S RECANTATION, ENTITLED ECCLESIASTES, PARAPHRASED.  
With a soliloquy or Meditation upon every Chapter.  
Very Seasonable and Useful for these Times.  
By FRANCIS QUARLES.  
Opus posthumum.  
Never before Imprinted.  
WITH A SHORT RELATION OF HIS Life and Death.  O curas hominum! O quantum est in rebus inane! 
LONDON, Printed by M. F. for Richard Royston, and are to be sold at his shop at the Sign of the Angel in Ivy-lane. 1645.   

A SHORT RELATION OF THE Life and Death of Mr. Francis Quarles, by Ursula Quarles, his sorrowful Widow.  
THough it be inconsistent with the duty of a wife, to be injurious in any respect to her husband; yet in this my bold undertaking I fear I shall be so to mine: which I doubt not but he would have forgiven, if he had been living, as proceeding from love; and I hope his friends will pardon (now he is dead) as being the last duty I can perform to a loving husband. Those that see with what pen his Works are written, will say his life deserved a more skilful Artist to set it forth: which office though many might have been procured to undertake; and to which I doubt not, but some would voluntarily have offered themselves, if they had known that such a thing had been intended: yet have I (with much zeal, though small discretion) adventured upon it myself, as being fully assured that none can be more sensible of the loss of him, than I, though thousands might have expressed that loss to the world with more Art and better judgement.  
He was a Gentleman both by birth and desert: descended of an ancient Family, and yet (which is rare in these last and worst times) he was an ornament to his Ancestors. His Father was James Quarles of Rumford Esquire, Clerk of the Green-cloth and Purveyor of the Navy to Queen Elizabeth, and younger brother to Sir Robert Quarles. His education was suitable to his birth; first, at school in the Country, where his schoolfellows will say, he surpassed all his equals; afterward at Christ's College in Cambridge, where how he profited, I am not able to judge, but am fully assured by men of much learning and judgement, that his Works in very many places do sufficiently testify more than ordinary fruits of his University studies. Last of all, he was transplanted from thence to Lincoln's Inn, where for some years he studied the Laws of England; not so much out of desire to benefit himself thereby, as his friends and neighbours (showing therein his continual inclination to peace) by composing suits & differences amongst them.  
After he came to maturity, he was not desirous to put himself into the world, otherwise he might have had greater preferments than he had: He was neither so unfit for Court preferment, nor so ill beloved there, but that he might have raised his fortunes thereby, if he had had any inclination that way. But his mind was chief set upon his devotion and study: yet not altogether so much, but that he faithfully discharged the place of Cupbearer to the Queen of Bohemia, and the office of Secretary to the Reverend and Learned Lord Primate of Ireland, that now is, and of Chronologer to the famous City of London; which place he held to his death, and would have given that City (and the world) a testimony that he was their faithful servant therein, if it had pleased God to bless him with life to perfect what he had begun. He was the husband of one wife, by whom he was the father of eighteen children, and how faithful and loving a husband and father he was, the joint tears of his widow and fatherless children will better express then my pen is able to do.  
In all his duties to God and Man he was conscionable and orderly: He preferred God and Religion to the first place in his thoughts, his King and Country to the second, his family and studies he reserved to the last. As for God, he was frequent in his devotions and prayers to him, and almost constant in reading or meditating on his holy Word, as his Divine Fancies and other parts of his Works will sufficiently testify. For his Religion, he was a true son of the Church of England; an even Protestant, not in the least degree biased to this hand of superstition, or that of schism, though both those factions were ready to cry him down for his inclination to the contrary. His love to his King and Country in these late unhappy times of distraction, was manifest, in that he used his pen and poured out his continual prayers and tears to quench this miserable fire of dissension, while too many others added daily fuel unto it. And for his family, his care was very great over that, even then, when his occasions caused his absence from it. And when he was at home, his exhortations to us to continue in virtue and godly life, were so pious and frequent; his admonitions so grave and piercing; his reprehensions so mild and gentle, and (above all) his own example in every religious and moral duty, so constant and manifest, that his equal may be desired, but can hardly be met withal.  
Neither was his good example of a godly life contained only within his own family: others as well as we have (or at least might have) made good use of it. For he was not addicted to any notorious vice whatsoever: He was courteous and affable to all; moderate and discreet in all his actions: And though it be too frequent a fault (as we see by experience) in Gentlemen whose dispositions incline them to the study of Poetry, to be lose and debauched in their lives and conversations; yet was it very far from him: Their delight could not be greater in the Tavern, than his was in his Study; to which he devoted himself late and early, usually by three a clock in the morning. The fruits thereof are best tasted by those, who have most perused his Works, and therefore I shall be silent in that particular. For though it had been necessary in any other, to have spoken somewhat of his writings; yet I hope it will not be expected from me, seeing that neither the judgement of my sex can be thought competent, nor (if it were) would the nearness of my relation to him suffer me to praise that, at commendations whereof from others, I have often blushed.  
I shall therefore rather desire leave to speak a work or two concerning the blessed end of my dear husband, which was every way answerable to his godly life; or rather (indeed) surpassed it. For, as gold is purified in the fire, so were all his Christian virtues more refined and remarkable during the time of his sickness.  
His patience was wouderfull, insomuch as he would confess no pain, even then when all his friends perceived his disease to be mortal; but still rendered thanks to God for his especial love to him, in taking him into his own hands to chastise, while others were exposed to the fury of their enemies, the power of pistols, and the trampling of horses.  
He expressed great sorrow for his sins, and when it was told him, that his friends conceived he did thereby much harm to himself: he answered, They were not his friends, that would not give him leave to be penitent.  
His Exhortations to his friends that came to visit him were most divine; wishing them to have a care of the expense of their time, and every day to call themselves to an account, that so when they come to their bed of sickness, they might lie upon it with a rejoicing heart. And doubtless such an one was his: Insomuch as he thanked God, that whereas he might have justly expected, that his conscience should look him in the face like a Lion, it rather looked upon him like a Lamb: and that God had forgiven him his sins, and that night sealed him his pardon: And many other heavenly expressions to the like effect. I might here add what blessed advice he gave to me in particular, still to trust in God, whose promise is, to provide for the Widow and Fatherless, etc. but this is already imprinted in my heart; and therefore I shall not need here again to insert it.  
His charity was extraordinary, in freely forgiving his greatest enemies, even those who were the cause of his sickness, and by consequence of his death. For, whereas a Petition full of unjust aspersions, was preferred against him by eight men, (whereof he knew not any two, nor they him, save only by sight) the first news of it struck him so to the heart, that he never recovered it, but said plainly, it would be his death. And when his friends (to comfort him) told him that Mr I. S. (the chief promoter thereof) was called to an account for it, and would go near to be punished; his answer was, God forbidden, I seek not revenge, I freely forgive him, and the rest; only I desire to be vindicated from their unjust aspersions; especially that, [that for ought they know I may be a Papist,] whereas I never spoke word to any of them in my life. Which imputation, how slanderous it was, may easily be discovered by a passage in his greatest extremity, wherein his discretion may (perhaps) be taxed by some, but his religion cannot be questioned by any. For, a very able Doctor of the Romish religion, being sent unto him by a friend, he would not take what he had prescribed, only because he was a Papist.  
These were the most remarkable passages in him during his sickness: The rest of the time he spent in Contemplation of God, and meditating upon his Word; especially upon Christ's sufferings, and what a benefit those have, that by faith could lay hold on him, and what virtue there was in the least drop of his precious blood: intermingling here and there many devout prayers and ejaculations; which continued with him as long as his speech; and after, as we could perceive by some imperfect expressions. At which time a friend of his exhorting him to apply himself to finish his course here, and prepare himself for the world to come; he spoke in Latin 
* O dulcis Salvator mundi, sint tua ultima verba in Cruse, mea ultima verba in luce: In manus tuas Domine commendo spiritum meum. El quae ore meo sari non possint, ab animo & cord sint à te accepta.  to this effect (as I am told:) O sweet Saviour of the world, let thy last words upon the Cross, be my last words in this world: Into thy hands Lord I commend my spirit: And what I cannot utter with my mouth, accept from my heart and soul. Which words being uttered distinctly, to the understanding of his friend, he fell again into his former Contemplations and Prayers; and so quietly gave up his soul to God, the eight day of September, 1644. after he had lived two and fifty years, and lieth buried in the Parish Church of S. leonard's in Foster-lane.  
Thus departed that blessed soul, whose loss I have great reason to bewail, and many others in time will be sensible of. But my particular comfort is in his dying words, that God will be a Husband to the Widow: And that which may comfort others as well as me, is (what a reverend Divine wrote to a friend concerning his death) that our loss is gain to him, who could not live in a worse age, nor die in a better time.  
And here again, I humbly beg the Readers pardon. For I cannot expect but to be censured, by some for writing thus much, and by others for writing no more. To both which, my excuse is, my want of ability and judgement in matters of this nature. I was more averse (indeed) from meddling with the Petition, than any other thing I have touched upon; lest (perhaps) it should be thought to savour a little of revenge; but God is my witness I had no such intention. My only aim and scope was, to fulfil the desires and commands of my dying husband: Who wished all his friends to take notice, and make it known, that as he was trained up and lived in the true Protestant Religion, so in that Religion he died.  
URSULA QUARLES.   

A Letter from a Learned Divine upon the news of the death of Mr QUARLES.  
My worthy Friend Mr Hawkins,  

Postscript.  I Received your Letter joyfully, but the news (therein contained) sadly and heavily; It met me upon my return home from Sturbridge; and did work on myself and wife, I pray God it way work kindly on us all. We have lost a true friend; and were the loss only mine or yours, it were the less, but thousands have a loss in him; yea, the Generations which shall come after will lament it. But our loss is gain to him, (who could not live in a worse age, nor die in a better time) let us endeavour like good Gamesters to make the best we may of this throw, cast us by the band of God's good Providence, that it may likewise prove gain to us; which will be, if in case we draw nearer unto him, and take off our hearts from all earthly hopes and comforts; using this world as if we used it not; so shall we rejoice as if we rejoiced not in their using, and mourn as if we mourned not in the parting with them.—  
Your assured friend NEHEMIAH ROGERS. Essex. Sept. 12. 1644.   

SOLOMON'S Recantation, ENTITLED ECCLESIASTES.  

CAP. I.  
1 The Preacher showeth that all humane courses are vain: 4 Because the creatures are restless in their courses, 9 They bring forth nothing new, and all old things are forgotten, 12 And because he hath found it so in the studies of Wisdom.  

Verse. 1 THus says the best of Preachers and of Kings,  
Thus Solomon the Son of David sings.  
Verse. 2 The greatest happiness that earth can prise  
Is all most vain, and vainest vanities.  
Verse. 3 What profit can accrue to man? what gains  
Can crown his actions, or reward his pains?  
Beneath the Orb of heavens surrounding Sun,  
What worth his labour hath his labour done?  
Verse. 4 One Generation gives another way,  
But earth abides in one perpetual stay:  
Verse. 5 The Prince of Light puts on his morning Crown,  
And in the Evening lays his Glory down:  
Where leaving Earth to take a short repose,  
He soon returns, and rises where he risen:  
Verse. 6 The troubled Air provokes the Southern States,  
And then it blusters at the Borean Gates;  
It whirls about in his uncertain Sphere,  
And rides his unknown Circuit ev'ry where;  
Verse. 7 All Rivers to the Seas their Tribute yield  
And yet th'hydropic Seas are never filled,  
Their sliding Streams pursue their passage home,  
And drive their hasty Tides from whence they come.  
Verse. 8 The world is all composed of Change; nor can  
Her vanity be Charactered by Man:  
The eye's not satisfied; and what we hear,  
Fills not the Concave of th'insatiate ear:  
Verse. 9 The thing that heretofore hath been, we see  
Is but the same that is, and is to be:  
And what is done, is what is to be done;  
There's nothing that is new beneath the Sun.  
Verse. 10 What Novelty can earth proclaim, and say,  
It had no Precedent before this day?  
No, no, there's nothing modern times can own,  
The which precedent Ages have not known:  
Verse. 11 The deeds of former days expire their date  
In our collapsed Memories, and what  
Times early Sunshine hath not ripened yet,  
Succeeding Generations shall forget.   

Verse. 12 I Solomon, whose choice affections own  
The Church's service dearer than my Throne,  
Was chosen and anointed King, and now  
Wear Israel's Crown upon my studious brow:  
Verse. 13 I bent my heart, by wisdom, to descry  
What ere subsists beneath the spangled sky;  
With such hard travel hath our God thought good,  
To exercise the souls of Flesh and Blood.  
Verse. 14 My thoughts have pondered all that hath been done  
Betwixt the solid Centre and the Sun,  
And, lo! the object of my Contemplation  
Is but mere Vanity, and soul's Vexation.  
Verse. 15 Not all this knowledge can reduce the state  
Of crooked nature to a perfect Strait;  
Nor sum our Ignorances', which surmount  
The language of Arithmeticks' Account.  
Verse. 16 I viewed my heart, and there found greater store  
Of wisdom then all those that lived before:  
No knowledge could remain, no wisdom lie  
Close from mine ear, nor clouded from mine eye.  
Verse. 17 I gave my all-enquiring heart to know  
Not wisdom only, but even folly too:  
And I perceived that all this Contemplation  
Was vain, and nothing but the souls Vexation:  
Verse. 18 For he that labours for much wisdom, gains  
Grief in th'enjoyment; in pursuit but pains:  
And who improves his knowledge, strives to borrow  
A fair advantage to increase his sorrow.    

soliloquy I.  

How are the vain desires of flesh and blood  
Befoold in that mistaken Thing called Good!  
How Travel seeks it! How unwearyed hearts  
Make it the object both of Arms and Arts!  
How many certain obvious ev'lls attend  
The way to this uncertain Journeys end!  
We tire the night in thought, the day in toil,  
Spare neither sweat nor lucubrated Oil,  
To seek the thing we cannot find; or found,  
We cannot hold; or held, we cannot ground  
So firm, as to resist the various swings  
Of fickle Fortune, or the frowns of Kings.   

Poor fruitless Labours of deluded Man!  
How vainly are ye spent? How short a Span  
Of seeming Pleasure serves ye to requite  
Long Leagues of Travel? For one drops delight  
Of airy Froth, how are ye forced to borrow  
Strong Gales of Hope to sail through seas of sorrow?   

Why do we thus afflict our labouring souls  
With dregs of Wormwood, and carouse full Bowls  
Of boiling anguish? To what hopeful end  
Droyle we our crazy bodies, and expend  
Our sorrow-wasted spirits, to acquire  
A Good, not worth a breath of our desire?  
A Good, whose fulsome sweetness clogs and cloys  
The soul, but neither lasts nor satisfies:  
How poor an Object pleases! And how soon  
That pleasure finds an end! How quickly Noon!  
How quickly Night! And what to day we prise  
Above our souls, to morrow we despise  
Beneath a Trifle: What in former Times  
We owned as Virtue, now we tax as Crimes.   

What is this World, but even a great Exchange  
Of dear bought pennyworths, all composed of Change?  
Where frothy Honour may be bought and sold  
With heart-corrupting, eye-beguiling Gold:  
Where sullen wealth, and friend-betraying treasure  
May pass in barter for repent Pleasure:  
Where painted sweetness (though a grain too light)  
Shall buy a Lords Estate for one poor night:  
Where unstained Beauty's youth shall buy an old  
Breath-tainted Churl, diseased with Gouts and Gold:  
Where Birthrights, Blessings, nay and souls to boot  
(And yet not deemed a pennyworth under foot)  
Shall pass for fond delights: Where very Names  
Without an Alias, to lay after Claims  
To a poor Lordship) shall be swept away  
For Clods of earth, and those for one nights Play.   

Tell me, my puzzled soul, What wouldst thou buy?  
Go in and cheapen: Let thy curious eye  
Make her own choice: They will present thy view  
With numerous Joys: Buy something that is new:  
Verse. 9 Alas! there's nothing new beneath the sky.  
Look further; further yet: Go please thine eye,  
Search, till the Object and thine eye agrees:  
Verse. 8 Thine eye's not satisfied with what it sees.  
Buy something that will last; that will remain  
Verse. 2 To after days: All's momentary, all's vain.  
I, but my soul, here's fairer Merchandise,  
Verse. 16 Wisdom and Knowledge; That, to make thee wise;  
This, to instruct thee: Come, thou needst not fear  
Too hard a bargain: Go, and purchase there:  
Verse. 18 Alas! much wisdom makes thy grief but double;  
Increase of Knowledge brings increase of trouble.   

I, but my soul, the gracious eye of heaven  
Hath smiled upon thee. His full hand hath given  
A large addition to thy thriv'n estate;  
Thy Barns and Bags are filled; Thy servants wait  
Upon thy Business, and their shoulders bear  
Thy fruitful Burdens; who, like Pilots, steer  
Thy reeling Vessel: Thou art richly'endowed  
With Knowledge, Wisdom, Judgement, and allowed  
Some Grains to make thee weight; Me thinks, thy heart  
So armed with strong Resolves should never start  
At threatening ev'lls: Me thinks, thy daring eye  
(If all the Crystal Rafters of the sky  
Should make one Ruin, and that Ruin fall  
About thine ears) should be unmoved at all.   

No, no, my soul, 'tis neither Barn nor Purse  
Crammed up with Coin or Corn, canbalk the Curse  
Entailed upon thy sin: Nor height of Blood,  
Nor all that this mistaken Earth calls Good:  
Verse. 17 Not very Knowledge, no nor Wisdom can  
Exempt thee from the Common lot of Man.  
Verse. 16 The wisest Prince that ever blessed a Nation  
Found all things vain, and when enjoyed Vexation.    

CAP. II.  
1 The vanity of humane courses in the works of pleasure. 12 Though the wise be better than the fool, yet both have but one event. 18 The vanity of humane labour, in leaving it they know not to whom. 24 Nothing better than joy in our labour, but that is God's gift.  

Verse. 1 SInce knowledge than affords my soul no rest,  
My roving thoughts tried mirth, and were possessed  
Of all the pleasures earth could lend; yet I  
Found mirth and pleasure all but vanity:  
Verse. 2 I laughed at laughter as atoyish Antic;  
And counted all my mirth no less than frantic:  
Verse. 3 My heart (but wisely foolish) did incline  
To costly fare, and frolic cups of wine,  
That in these pleasures I might find some good,  
To crown the short lifed days of flesh and blood:  
Verse. 4 I built magnific Palaces, did frame  
Great buildings to the glory of my name:  
I planted Vineyards, whose plump Clusters might  
Rejoice my heart, and lend my soul delight:  
Verse. 5 I made me fruitful Orchards for my pleasure,  
And curious Gardens to refresh my leisure;  
I stored them with trees, and these with Bowers,  
And made a Paradise of fruits and flowers:  
Verse. 6 I made me standing pools, to entertain  
My breathless guests and all their numerous train:  
I cut me Aquiducts, whose current flees  
And waters all my wilderness of trees:  
Verse. 7 Armies of servants do attend my state,  
Both foreiners, and borne within my gate:  
Herds I possessed, and flocks above all them  
That reigned before me in Jerusalem:  
Verse. 8 Abundant silver, gold, and precious stones  
By Kings presented, my Exchequer owns:  
All sorts of Music (earth's delight) had I  
To feed mine ear, Beauties to please mine eye:  
Verse. 9 Such State, magnificence, and princely store  
Wondering jerusalem never saw before:  
In all this pomp, my heart had not forgot  
The lawful use: My wisdom failed me not:  
Verse. 10 I gave mine eyes what ere mine eyes required,  
Denied my heart no mirth my heart desired:  
For my poor heart's delight was all my gains,  
My pleasure was the portion of my pains.  
Verse. 11 At length I cast my serious eye upon  
My painful works, and what my hands have done:  
But lo, beneath the Sun no Contentation,  
All, all was vanity, and soul's vexation.  
Verse. 12 With that I turned my weary thoughts again  
On wisdom, and the foolishness of men;  
(Search they that please to search, alas! there's none  
Can search the truth more strict than Solomon)  
Verse. 13 When my impartial Judgement did compare  
Folly with wisdom, this doth even as fare  
Excel the other, as Meridian light  
Excels the shadows of the darkest night:  
Verse. 14 The wise man's eyes are in his head; They stand  
Like Watchmen in the Tower, to guard the land;  
But fools haunt darkness; yet myself perceive  
The selfsame lot both fools and wisemen have.  
Verse. 15 Ah! then (said I) if equal fortune lies  
For fools and me, what vantage to be wise?  
What profit hath my wisdom? Then thought I  
The height of wisdom hath her Vanity.  
Verse 16 The foolish Bauble and the learned Bays  
Are both forgotten in succeeding days:  
Impartial death shall close the dying eyes  
Both of the fool and also of the wise:  
Verse 17 Therefore I hated life, for from th'events  
Of humane actions flow my discontents:  
Life spent in action, or in contemplation,  
Is all but vanity, and souls Vexation.  
Verse 18 I hated all that e'er my hands had done  
In seeking happiness beneath the Sun;  
For what I did I cannot call mine own,  
Another's hand must reap what mine hath sown.  
Verse 19 Who knows if my successor is to be  
A wise man or a fool? Howe'er 'tis he  
Must spend with ease, what I have earned with pain  
And soul's Vexation; This is also vain:  
Verse 20 For which, my soul (thus fooled with vain pursuit  
Of blossomed happiness that bears no fruit)  
Whispered despair of all that I had done  
To purchase perfect good beneath the Sun.  
Verse 21 Some men there be whose more elaborate gains  
(The fruits of lawful cares, and prudent pains)  
Descend to those that knew nor pains nor Art;  
This is a vanity and afflicts the heart.  
Verse 22 For what reward hath man of all his droyle,  
His evening trouble, and his morning toil,  
His heart's vexation, and his griefs that run  
Through all his labours underneath the Sun?  
Verse 23 His days are sorrows; tedious griefs attend  
His travail, hopeless of a Journeys end;  
His restless nights afford his closed eye  
No slumbers: This is also vanity.  
Verse. 24 There's nothing sweeter than to take repast  
Of meats and drinks, and now and then, to cast  
Griefs burden off, and gently lose the reins  
By intermingling pleasures with our pains:  
But this, I know, lies not in our command,  
It is a blessing from th'Almighties hand:  
Verse. 25 For who can eat? what mortal can apply  
His heart to force a pleasure more than I?  
Verse. 26 Heaven gives the just man wisdom, knowledge, mirth;  
To sinners, travel; to heap earth to earth;  
Wherewith t'enrich the righteous Generation;  
This is his vanity, and soul's Vexation.    

soliloquy II.  

But stay my Soul! Art thou resolved, than,  
T'abjure delight, and turn Capuccian?  
Because thy earth hath thus eclipsed the light  
Of thy Contentment, wilt thou make it night?  
Wert thou condemned to sorrows? Wert thou born  
To live in languishment, and die forlorn?  
Abuse not thy Creation: Thou wert made  
Not thus to starve thy blossoms in the shade  
Of barren melancholy; or to waste  
Thy pensive hours in the boisterous blast  
Of stormy discontent: Come, come, my soul,  
Verse. 1 Hoyst up thy Sails to mirth: Let others howl  
And whine: Let such as always art at wars  
With their own fortunes, curse their ill-faced stars:  
Pass thou thy frolic youth in Revels, sports,  
And fresh delights: frequent the purple Courts  
Of prosperous Princes: Stue thy heart in mirth,  
And crush the child of sorrow in her birth:   

Verse. 2 O but, my soul, what profit can accrue  
From lavish mirth? What pleasure is't, to screw  
An Antic face and grim? or to enforce  
An empty laughter in a vain discourse?   

Verse. 3 Why then my soul, Go wind the Plummets up  
Of thy down spirits, with a chirping Cup:  
Redeem thee from the gripes of Care, and rapes  
Of Grief, and drench them in the blood of Grapes.   

I, but perchance in that sad heart of thine  
There is a wound, craves rather Oil than wine.   

If then thy cure prove worse than thy disease,  
That Grief thou darest not cure, attempt to ease:  
Forget thy sorrows; or if rugged sense  
Will not be wooed by language to dispense  
With her provoking foe, advise with Art:  
Those stubborn streams thou canst not stop, divert:  
And like a pain-afflicted stripling, play  
With some new Toy, to while thy grief away.  
Verse. 4 Go, raise great works, whose structure may impart  
The Master's wisdom, and the Bvilder's Art:  
Build houses, whose magnificence may proclaim  
Thy worth, as lasting Monuments of thy name.  
Verse. 5 Plant Orchards for thy Pleasure: Deck thy Bowers  
With dainty fruits, and delectable Flowers:  
Verse. 6 Cut Waterworks: instruct the silver Tide  
To wanton up and down: Teach her to slide  
In soft Meanders, through the fluid veins  
Of the green breasted stream-embroydred Plains;  
Ravish thy soul with Music, and refresh  
The wasted spirits of thy unwieldy flesh  
With highbred Raptures: Let harmonious Airs  
Compose the discords of thy droyling Cares:  
Take pleasure in thy pale-enclosed Grounds,  
And let the empiric of thy deepmouthed Hounds  
persuade thy headstrong sorrows so to fly  
Before thy Herd, as they before the Cry:   

Alas, Alas, my poor deluded soul,  
Thinkest thou to quench thy fire with oil, or for to cool  
Thy flame with Cordials? Can thy born disease  
Expect a Cure from such Receipts as these?  
No no, those bellows mount the blaze the higher,  
Thou leapest but from the Pan into the fire.   

Verse. 12 I, but my soul, me thinks a wise forecast  
(Though not redress the mischiefs that are passed)  
May claim some kind of privilege to prevent  
The ev'lls that future Changes may present;  
If not, what harm, what disconvenience lies  
Verse. 13 In being fool? what vantage to be wise?  
Verse. 15 Both fool and wise must pay an equal shot  
At Nature's Table; have the selfsame lot.   

Why then, my soul, since sorrow needs must haunt  
Thy life, condemned to labour, cease to daunt  
Thy bold endeavours with the sense of Care,  
Cheer up thy whining heart, and take thy share  
Verse. 24 Of all thy labours, eat, and drink; and let  
Thy sense enjoy the wages of thy Sweat:  
'tis all thy Portion: Take what may be had;  
Bad is the best; Then make the best of bad:  
Sweeten thy pains; Mix pleasure with thy sorrow;  
Who knows to day what shall betid to morrow?    

Cap. III.  
1 By the necessary change of times, vanity is added to humane travail, 11 There is an excellency in God's works: 16 But as for man, God shall judge his works there, and here he shall be like a beast.  

Verse 1 THe great Creator in his wise decree  
Hath pitched a Time when every Change shall be,  
And through his watchful providence hath given  
A season to each purpose under heaven;  
Verse 2 There is a time appointed for our birth,  
And there's a time for earth to turn to earth:  
There is a time to plant; A time wherein  
To pluck those plants, thus planted, up again:  
Verse 3 There is a season when to build; even so,  
There is a season to demolish too:  
There is a season to inflict a wound,  
And there's another season to make sound:  
Verse 4 There is a time for tears to drown thine eye;  
A time to laugh and lay thy sorrows by:  
There is a time to mourn; A time to meet  
The sprightly Music with thy numerous feet:  
Verse 5 There is a due appointed season, either  
To scatter stones, or gather stones together:  
There is a time t'embrace, and there be spaces  
Of time, appointed to refrain embraces:  
Verse 6 There is a time to gain, and there's ordained  
An other time to lose the thing we gained;  
There is a time to recollect and lay  
Thy treasure up; a time to cast away:  
Verse 7 There is a time appointed when to rend;  
And there's a time appointed when to mend:  
A time for silence, and a time to break  
Reserved silence; there's a time to speak:  
Verse. 8 A time to love, and there's a time t'abate  
Our warm affections; there's a time to hate:  
A time of war, and there's a time to cease  
The Bloody Battle: There's a time for Peace.   

Verse. 9 If heavens decree thus bound the works of men,  
What profit gains the fruitless worker then?  
What boots our Travel, or those works of ours,  
If all our plots depend on heavenly powers?  
Verse. 10 Nor are our actions, or their secret ends  
Governed by chance; nor do our works depend  
On hoodwinked Fortune; no, pleased heaven thinks good  
To exercise the souls of flesh and blood:  
Verse. 11 What ere he did, is fair, and timely done,  
He gave the world for man to muse upon:  
Whose eye, with admiration may discover  
The motion, not the progress of the Mover.  
Verse. 12 I know, that from the works of flesh and blood  
As they are man's, there can arise no good;  
Unless perchance to qualify with oil  
The soule-afflicting vin'gre of his toil;  
Verse. 13 Or if it happen that his soul may eat  
And drink, and reap the harvest of his sweat  
To sweeten sorrows, may we understand  
It is a gift from the Almighty's hand:  
Verse. 14 I know that heaven's Decree is sealed, and free  
From alteration, a most firm Decree:  
And so ordained, that the presumptuous Race  
Of man may fear the Majesty of his face:  
Verse. 15 The thing that is, hath been; and what of old  
Hath been, succeeding ages shall behold:  
The great Disposer keeps the selfsame tract  
And calls his timely revolutions back.  
Verse. 16 I viewed the Chair of Judgement, where I saw  
In stead of Righteousness, perverted Law:  
I viewed the Courts of Equity, and spied  
Corruption there, and Justice warped aside.  
Verse. 17 O then (thought I) the Judge of heaven shall do  
Right to the wicked, and the righteous too.  
For there's a time true Justice shall proceed  
On every Purpose, upon every Deed.  
Verse. 18 Then puzzled in my thoughts, I thus advised,  
Heaven suffers mortals to be exercised  
In their own miseries, that they may see  
They're not more happy than the sensuals be.  
Verse. 19 To man and beast the selfsame lots befall;  
Man dies; so dies the Beast: alas they all  
Enjoy one breath; what Royalties remain  
To Man above a Beast? For both are vain;  
Verse. 20 Both travel to the selfsame place; Both tend  
Their paces to the selfsame Journeys end:  
The substance of their flesh is both the same,  
But dust, to dust both turn from whence they came.  
Verse. 21 What curious Inquisitor doth know  
The place whereto ascending souls do go?  
Or can renowned Philosophy declare  
Wither the dying spirits of beasts repair?  
Verse. 22 This rightly weighed, it seems the better choice  
For man to suck his labours, and rejoice;  
'Tis all the Portion he is like to have:  
Who knows the entertainments of the Grave?    

soliloquy III.  

COme now my Soul; thou hast with toilsome pains  
Outworn the day; and, with thy dearbought gains,  
Thou hast refreshed thy spirits; and, at length,  
With lusty diet, hast redeemed thy strength;  
Thou hast forgot thy labours; and thy Rest  
Hath crowned Contentment in thy peaceful breast:  
Art thou now pleased? What can thy heart require,  
More than thou hast, to fill thy vast desire?   

True; if my bubble life could get a Lease  
Of this small Rest, nay, if the present Peace  
Were but secured from this succeeding sorrow  
Long since designed to the next neighbouring morrow,  
It were some happiness, and would present  
A large proportion of a short Content:  
But Change (the Moth of transitory things  
Verse. 1 That's never worse than when the season brings  
A flash of Good) doth all things so unframe  
That earth's content doth scarce deserve the name  
Of common happiness; which like the wind,  
Varies, still meeting with a various mind.   

Unconstant earth! what can thy treasure show,  
That is not, like thyself, unconstant too?  
How full of Change! How full of Alteration!  
Nay, fixed in nothing but thy mere foundation.  
And like thyself, our natural parent, we  
Constant in nothing but in loving thee!  
Verse. 4 One while we plunge in tears; and by and by,  
We rage in laughter, yet not knowing why:  
To day, the zeal of our affection's such  
Verse. 8 We burn in love; tomorrow, hate as much:  
Sometimes, we fear not when our ev'lls appear;  
Sometimes, affrighted at no Cause of fear:  
One while we should and will not, will and should not;  
Nay, at the selfsame moment, would and would not.  
Verse. 4 Today we feast, and quaff in frolic Bowls;  
To morrow fast, and pinch our guilty Souls:  
Row, Music; now a Knell salutes our ears;  
At noon we swim in wine; at night, in tears.  
Over night our vows are made; our joy concluded:  
To day the danger's past, and heaven deluded:  
The last six Months our fortune swelled with store,  
And now they break; was never Job so poor:  
Verse 8 Time was, that peace enriched our joyful Land;  
Time is, our martial drum beats war at hand.   

Unconstant earth! O, is it not enough  
Thy days are evil at best; and but a puff  
At longest? At the fruitfullest but vain?  
But sad, at merryest; and at sweetest, pain?  
Is not all this enough? enough to make  
The miserable child of man forsake  
The false protection of thy magic eye,  
Without th'addition of inconstancy?  
Is't not enough that we poor Farmers pay  
Quitrent to Nature at the very day,  
And at our dying hour bequeath to thee  
Our whole subsistence for a Legacy?  
But thou must leave our frailties as a prey  
To time-born Change, that will permit no stay  
In one estate, nor give us leave to lie  
Sad Patients in a quiet misery!   

O but my soul, why dost thou thus contend  
With thy Creator's pleasure? Cease to spend  
This needless breath: Shall thy disordered will  
Confront his Providence? or call that ill,  
Which he thinks good? Tell me, my soul, shall he,  
That gave thee being, be prescribed by thee?  
He made thee for his glory; not to spend  
Thy days in slavish labour; nor to end  
Thy painful travel in the shades of death:  
But thou hast tainted that immortal breath,  
Which qualified thy life, and made thee free  
Of heaven and earth, and a joint Patentee  
With smooth-faced Cherubims; And too too proud  
Of thy short honour, warped thy thoughts, and bowed  
Thy strait desires to unknown delight,  
And wrapped thy glory in the clouds of night:  
Lost thy freewill to good, didst overthrow  
Thy perfect knowledge with desire to know;  
Bereft of wisdom labr'ing to be wise,  
Verse. 19 Now peered with beasts, that only works and dies.  
Both, borne to sorrow, breathe the self same breath;  
Live both alike, both die the self same death:  
S●nce then, my soul, thy hopes may not aspire  
To what thou wouldst, suit thy suppressed desire  
To what thou mayst: and let thy wisdom play  
Bad Cards with best advantage: what the day  
Brings in by Travel, let the frolic night  
Verse. 22 Consume in Mirth, and spend in full Delight:  
Take thou to day, let others take to morrow;  
He earns the Solace, that endures the sorrow.    

CAP. IU.  
1 Vanity is increased unto men by oppression, 4. By envy, 5. By idleness, 7. By covetousness, 9 By solitariness, 13. By wilfulness.  

Verse. 1 MY soul returned and fixed her thoughts upon  
The hard oppressions made beneath the Sun,  
And, lo, the tears of captives in distress,  
Cried loud for Comfort, yet were comfortless;  
Great was th'oppressors power, yet the grief  
Of the oppressed was void of all relief:  
Verse. 2 O, then, I counted their condition blest,  
Whom death had lulled in everlasting rest;  
Yea, fare more blest than those that live, to stand  
Afflicted patients at th'oppressors hand.  
Verse. 3 Nay, fare then both are they more blessed, whom  
Conception never hanselled in the womb;  
Or those Abortives, whom untimely birth  
Excused from all the sorrows of the earth.  
Verse. 4 Imused again, and found when pains had cracked  
The harder shell to some Heroic act,  
Pale envy strikes the kernel with taxation;  
O, this is vanity, and soul's vexation.  
Verse. 5 The sluggish fool that solitary stands,  
With yawning lips, and bosome-folded hands,  
Consumes his empty days, at last, is fed  
With his own flesh, that would not move for bread:  
Verse. 6 His idle tongue thus pleading for his sloth,  
Better one hand be filled with rest, than both  
Stretched forth in travel, to prepare full diet,  
With heart's vexation, and the fowls disquiet.  
Verse. 7 Thus pausing Contenplation showed mine eye  
A new prospect of humane vanity;  
Verse. 8 There is a lonely man that hath none other  
To foster then himself, nor child nor brother,  
Whose droyling hands think nothing can supply  
The greedy wants of his insatiate eye;  
He robs himself, nor knows for whose relief;  
This is a vanity and wounding grief.  
Verse. 9 The single state of him that lives alone  
Is double grief; Two better is then One:  
For two can share the sorrows that befall  
To one; One's worse then not to beat all;  
Verse. 10 If either's drooping shoulders be betrayed  
To a sad burden, there's a mutual aid:  
Woe to the man whom danger meets alone,  
For there's no arm to help him but his own:  
Verse. 11 When two divide the comforts of a Bed,  
If one gains kindly warmth, the other's sped:  
But warmth turns back to him that lies alone;  
The steel will yield no sparks without the stone.  
Verse. 12 If fury from a stronger arm assails,  
One falls before the foe when two prevails:  
But if a third put in a timely stroke,  
The Cord that's threefold is not quickly broke.  
Verse. 13 To be a poor wise child, is judged a thing  
More honourable than to be a King  
That's old and foolish, and whose disposition  
Checks at advice, and spumes at admonition.  
Verse. 14 The low and lank estates are often known  
To climb from Prisons, to the princely Throne;  
And glorious Monarches have been seen to fail,  
And change their glittering Glory for a Gaol.  
Verse. 15 So have I seen the vulgar hearts grow cold  
To withering Greatness, whilst their eyes behold  
The blooming heir, to whom Affections run  
Like morning eyes to greet the rising Sun.  
Verse. 16 Past Ages quench the father's fading light  
In the Sons hopes, and future days benight  
The Son in his Succeeders expecation;  
O, this is vanity and soul's vexation.    

soliloquy IU.  

MY soul, to what a strange disguized Good  
Art thou bewitch! O how hath flesh and Blood  
Betrayed thee to a happiness that brings  
No comfort but from transitory Things!  
How is thy freedom curbed! How art thou clogged  
With dull mortality, beslowed, and bogged  
In thine own frailty! How art thou reposed  
In sin-polluted dust! embraced, enclosed  
In the foul arms of thy own base Corruptions!  
How is thy will disturbed with th'interruptions  
Of cross desires? desires not knowing where  
To find a Centre, rambling here and there;  
Which, like their objects, alterable, room  
Like idle Vagrants without Pass, or home.  
Review thyself my soul; Cast up thy days,  
They are but few; Thy life is but a blaze:  
Go take take an Inventory of those Joys  
Which thy false Earth allows: They are but Toys,  
To mock the frailty of thy flattered Sense,  
Attended with a thousand discontents:  
Hath Heaven enriched thy pains with thriving drifts  
Of mighty Gold? endowed thy wind with gifts  
Of sacred Art? Or glorified thy thy name  
With honour, posted on the wings of Fame?  
What is there, then, that lies in earth's election  
To raise thy happiness to more high perfection?   

I, but my soul, what great, what higher hand  
Verse. 4 Shall stop the mouth of Envy? Or command  
Her snake-devouring fangs to keep the peace  
Upon thy worryed Name? To every Lease  
Of earth's best granted happiness, belongs  
The sharp Proviso of malicious tongues:  
They, they shall blast thy fortunes; leave a Tangle  
Upon thy new-broached Honour: They shall hang  
Like Burrs, upon thy welfare, and destroy,  
Like th' Eastern worm, the Gourd of all thy Joy.   

Or if thou chance to scape the whispering tongue  
Verse. 1 Of secret Envy, Force, and boldfaced Wrong.  
May hap to roar upon thy full-mouthed Sails,  
And rude Oppression with her Harpy nails,  
May gripe thy fair Prosperity, and grate  
Upon the vastness of thy great estate.   

Or if those foreign dangers should forbear  
To make assault; or made, prove less severe;  
From out thy very bosom may arise  
Intestine Foes, to make thy peace, their prize:  
Verse 5 If that dull worm, that clothes the mossy land  
With rags, but kiss thy bosome-folded hand,  
It eats thy Treasure with a secret Rust,  
And lays thy bedrid Honour in the Dust.   

Or if thy droyling hand should once beslave  
Verse 8 Thy glorious freedom with a thirst to have,  
And take thee prisoner to thy lose desires,  
Thy happiness, even whilst enjoyed, expires.   

Or if a liberal Content should crown  
Thy Gold with Rest, and make thine own, thine own:  
Verse 9 Perchance, thou want'st a Partner, that may share  
In all thy fortunes: or (if sped) an heir,  
Whose worth, and hopeful merits may revive  
Thy honoured Dust, and keep thy name alive.   

Or if the pleased hand of heaven subscribe  
Verse 13 To those desires, a self-conceipt may bribe  
Thy passion-guided Will to take up Arms  
'Gainst sovereign Reason, at whose bold Alarms  
Thy false affections may rise up, and shake  
Thy fancy-baffled Judgement, and so make  
A Gap for mischief, which may recommend  
Thy reeling Fortunes to a ruinous End.   

Now tell me, O my soul, wherein can earth  
Deserve thy pains, or gratify thy birth,  
In framing equal happiness; nay, in freeing  
Thy partial heart from unrepented Being?  
O, is't not better, not to thirst at all,  
Then thirst in vain, or quench thy thirst with Gall?  
Verse. 3 Are not the Cloisters of the Barren womb,  
Far more desiderable, then to come  
Into the wild, into the common Hall  
Of troubled Natures factious Court, where all  
Move in their Orbs of Care, and several ways,  
Fulfil their Revolutions of sad days?  
Verse. 2 Are not the shady Bowers of death more sweet  
Than the bold Sunshine, where we hourly meet  
Fresh ev'lls, like Atoms, whose deluding breath  
Tickles our fancies till we laugh to death?   

Our day of birth leads in our days of Trouble;  
My soul prise not this earth; this Toy; this Bubble.    

Cap. V.  
1 Vanities in divine service, 8 in murmuring against oppression, 9 and in riches. 18 Joy in riches is the gift of God.  

Verse. 1 ATtend thy footsteps when thou drawest near  
The house of God; and be more apt to hear,  
Then give the Sacrifice of fools, which know  
Not in their sacrifice whatev'll they do:  
Verse. 2 Let not thy tongue be rash; Commit no waist  
Of words before thy God by over haste;  
Since he from heaven beholds thy actions here  
All lavish babbling let thy lips forbear:  
Verse. 3 As dreams and rest-disturbing fancies flow  
From floods of business which by day we do;  
So multitude of words are daily sprung  
From th'idle fountain of a foolish tongue.  
Verse 4 When thou hast bound thee to thy God by vow,  
Defer not payment, but perform it thou:  
Discharge thy bonds, for heaven takes no delight  
In fools, that violate the faith they plight;  
Verse 5 Far safer 'tis thy vows were never made,  
Then having promised payment, never paid.  
Verse 6 Let not thy lips ensnare thee; plead not thou  
Before thy Angel, 'Twas too rash a vow:  
O why shoutd'st thou provoke thy God, and dare  
His curse upon thy practice, and thy prayer?  
Verse 7 Dreams oft are vain; and folly ' is mixed among  
The language of a multiloquious tongue;  
But let the wisdom of thy lips appear  
Before thy God with reverential fear.  
Verse 8 Seest thou perverted Justice in the land,  
And poor men gripped beneath th'oppressors hand?  
Stand not amazed; Th'Almighty views their way,  
And there be powers at hand more high than they.  
Verse 9 The fruitful surface of the pregnant soil,  
Enriched by the laborious ploughman's toil,  
Brings forth to all; nay, very Kings do build  
Their whole subsistence from the fertile field:  
Verse 10 'Tis not full heaps of eye-rejoycing gold  
Can feed, or screen thy nakedness from cold;  
Nor can the piles of treasure d wealth sustain  
Thy drooping spirits; This is also vain.  
Verse 11 As goods increase, even so their number, who  
Must share thy goods increase, increaseth too:  
What hath the owner more than they, but this,  
What they consume, his eyes behold as his?  
Verse 12 How sweetly pleasant is the sleep of such  
As labour, eat they little, or eat much?  
When as the wealth of idle Owners, keep  
Their heart from quiet, and their eyes from sleep:   

Verse 13 There is an evil that happens now and then  
Beneath the Sun, among the sons of men.  
Oft have I seen increasing riches grow  
To be their great-made O wners overthrow;  
And vex their souls with Care, and then repay  
Unprosp'rous pains with grief, and melt away.  
Verse 14 His wealth is fled, and when he should transfer it  
Upon his heir, there's nothing to inherit.  
Verse 15 Look how he came into the world, the same  
He shall go out, as naked as he came;  
Of what his labouring arm hath brought about,  
His dying hand shall carry nothing out:  
Verse 16 This is a wounding Grief, that, as he came,  
In every point, he shall return the same:  
What profit can his soul's affliction find,  
That toils for air, and travels but for wind?  
Verse 17 The pilgrimage of his laborious days,  
Is sordid and obscure, and all his ways  
Are blocked with troubles, and his souls disquiet,  
To gain his very life-sustaining diet.  
Verse 18 I hold it therefore the most happy lot  
To eat and drink, and reap what pains hath got,  
To crown those days which his Creator gave;  
'Tis all the portion he is like to have:  
Verse 19 All such to whom the bounteous hand of heaven  
Gives wealth, and licence to enjoy it given,  
To sweeten labour, may they understands,  
It is a favour from th' Almighty's hand:  
Verse 20 Such, doubtless, in their labour, shall forget  
Their painful sorrows, and their toilsome sweat;  
For heaven hath crowned their fair desires, and sent  
A peaceful conscience, and a pleased content.    

soliloquy V.  

But hark, my soul, the morning Bells invite  
thy early paces to a new delight:  
Away, away; the holy Saints-bell rings,  
Put on thy robes, and oil thy sacred wings:  
Call home thy heart, and bid thy Thoughts surcease  
To be thy Thoughts; Go, bind them to the peace;  
Take good security, or if such fail,  
Commit them to the all-commanding Jail  
Of thy crammed bags, there to lie close and fast,  
Until thy heav'n-atoning vomes be passed:  
Confine thy rambling pleasures to the trust  
of vacant hours: And let thy wisdom thrust  
Indulgent Hagar, and her base-born child  
From thy sad Gates, Let them be both exiled  
From thy soft bosom; Let not Ishmael share  
With holy Isa'c; Isa'c; must be heir:  
Nor let thy sorrow-melted heart bemoan  
Thy banished bondslave, nor her thirsty son:  
Take thou no care for them; Heaven will supply  
Their craving thirst with bottles from thine eye:  
Leave all thy servile Fancies in the veil,  
Mount thou the sacred Hill, and there, bewail  
Thy dying Isa'c, whose free gift may be  
A living pledge betwixt thy God and thee.   

Here mayst thou feast thy soul, and fill thy breast  
With heavenly Raptures, and with holy Rest.  
Here shall thy Piety sweeten all thy Rains,  
And Grace shall here replieve what Grief distrains:  
Here mayst thou shroud thee from those ev'ls that wait  
Upon the frailty of thy frail estate.  
Here may thy Griefs unbosom all their groans,  
And find redress from the high Throne of Thrones.   

Hast them, o high thee to that sacred place;  
Why stayest thou? See, the widened Arms of Grace  
Invite thy presence, And with open breast  
Promise fair welcome to so fair a Guest!   

O but my zeal-transported soul, take heed;  
Too rash a haste brings oft too dear a Speed:  
Verse. 1 Observe thy steps; Thy feet are apt to slide,  
If thy misguided paces swerve aside;  
Death waits at either hand, to make a prize  
Of wavering footsteps, and miswandring eyes:  
Near the best blessings neighbouring dangers dwell,  
The very Suburbs of blessed Heaven, is Hell.   

Thus when thy awful presence shall draw near  
These Hallalujous Courts, advise, and fear;  
Put off thy shoes; 'Tis holy ground thou treadest:  
Be not too bold▪ thou diest unless thou dread'st.   

Now, may thy holy boldness safely venture  
To pass these delectable Port, and enter.  
Now cloth thy heart with Reverence; Be filled  
With secret Raptures; Let thy fancy build  
No Castles here; Beware thou banish hence  
The sinful objects of invited Sense:  
Make heaven's command (and let thy zealous motion  
Subscribe to that) the cause of thy devotion;  
Let heaven's direction be thy form, and bend  
Thy endfull heart to make heaven's glory th'end:  
Worship that's moulded in Traditious Schools,  
Is but the Sensual Sacrifice of Fools.  
Verse. 2 Be wisely careful what thy lip impart;  
Bring thy soft tongue acquainted with thy heart:  
Be slow to speak, and be as quick to hear;  
Heaven loves a single tongue, a double ear:  
Verse. 4 Make haste to pay what thy vowed Promise owes;  
Destruction dwells in unperformed Vows.   

Thus mayst thou break the heart-corroding Fangs  
Of griping Care, and scape the dying Pangs  
Of living death: Here, here, thou mayst control  
Earth's power, and imparadise thy soul  
In soft and sacred Rest, beyond th'extent  
Of whining Grief, and murmuring discontent.   

I, but my soul, gross vanity, even dwells  
In thy devotion, whose rank offering smells  
So strong of earth, that very heavens deride  
Our very Altars, and abhor the Pride  
Of our disguised humility, which brings  
Asecret curse upon our holiest things:   

Hence, hence, my soul, proceed those boisterous waves  
That plunge our frailties: This, o this enslaves  
Our cravened Spirits so, that we even fail  
Or shrink before the Combat, and turn tail  
To every slight affliction: this unlevells  
Thy even-wayed Peace, with indigested evils:  
This sowers all thy sweets, sads all thy Rest,  
Nay dispossesses thee, even whilst possessed  
Of thy Imperious Treasure.—   

O then my soul, where shall thy wounds obtain  
That sovereign balsam? who shall ease thy pain?  
In what blessed ear will thy complaints find place?  
What holy Altar shall thy arms embrace?  
If here be no protection for oppressed  
And labouring souls, where shall poor souls have Rest?   

Earth's Joys are vain, and they that shall commit  
Trust in vain earth, are far more vain than it.    

Cap. VI  
1 The vanity of riches without use, 3 Of children, 6 and old age without riches. 9 The vanity of sight and wand'ring desires. 11 The conclusion of vanities.  

Verse. 1 THere is an evil, which my observing eye  
Hath taken notice of beneath the sky;  
It is an evil frequents the troubled breast  
Of wretched man, and robs him of his rest.  
Verse. 2 To see where God hath multiplied and given  
What wealth and honour earth can beg of heaven,  
And yet no power to use it, but descends  
To very strangers: O, this Grief transcends:  
Verse. 3 Who multiply their loins and years, yet have  
Souls unsufficed with good, and soil the grave  
With blemished and dishonoured names, I say  
Abortive births are better far than they:  
Verse. 4 For he can hardly own a being, whom  
Nature casts forth from the untimely womb:  
Darkness infolds him in her secret shades  
His name's forgotten, and his memory fades.  
Verse. 5 The worlds surveighing Lamp does not affright.  
The pleasing slumbers of his peaceful night:  
There be no ears, no eyes, to hear, to see;  
The living soul hath not such rest as he:  
Verse. 6 Yea though he live a thousand years twice told,  
What worth his eyes, can his sad eyes behold?  
Do they not both arrive, not both resort  
To the dull portals of the selfsame Port?  
Verse. 7 The best reward of man's laborious sweat  
Is but a morsel of quotidian meat:  
This may suffice his body, 
Verse  but the will  
Of his insatiate soul what hand can fill?  
Verse 8 What is it then the wiseman's labour gains  
More than the painful fool by all his pains?  
What wants the poor man that by prudent labour  
Knows how to live, more than his wealthy neighbour?  
Verse 9 Better enjoy a competence, and crave not  
More wealth, than still desire the wealth we have not.  
To wish, what if enjoyed brings molestation,  
Is but mere vanity, and soul's vexation.  
Verse 10 The worldly confluence of treasure can  
Exempt no mortal from the lot of man.  
Nor can his wealth instruct him to withstands  
The angry strokes of the Almighty's hand:  
Verse 11 Since the increase of wealth procured by pain,  
Preserved with fear, with sorrow lost again,  
Increaseth grief in the possessors breast,  
What vantage then hath man to be possessed?  
Verse 12 Who knows, what's good for man in this dull blaze  
Of life, his swift, his shadow flying days?  
Or who can tell, when his short hour is run,  
Th'event of all his toil beneath the Sun?    

soliloquy VI.  

WHat meant that great-creating Power to frame  
This spacious Universe? Was not his name  
Glorious enough without a Witness? Why  
Did that corrected Twilight of his eye  
Vnmussle darkness, and with morning light  
Redeem the day from new baptised night?  
What meant that sacred Rower to command  
Divorce betwixt united Sea and Land?  
Why wrapped heearth (as yet untouch with showers)  
In a green Robe embroid'red all with flowers?  
What meant the Beams of his refulgent eyes  
To print their Image in the crystal skies?  
What princely guests with all their numerous train  
Did he expect? was he to entertain?  
That his magnificent, his bounteous hand  
Made such Provision both by sea and land?  
What royal State's at hand? what Potentate:  
On whom must all these Royal armies wait?  
Who worthy of so great a preparation,  
Is th'object of such royal expectation?  
What Prince is to be borne? What glorious birth  
Is to be celebrated?   

Groaning earth  
Brought forth a lump not much above a span,  
A little naked, puling thing, called Man.  
Man, a poor shiftless transitory thing,  
Borne without sword or shield, not having wing  
To fly from threatening danger, not an arm  
To grapple with those numerous ev'lls that swarm  
About his newborn frailty, warped aside  
From fair obedience to rebellious Pride.  
Man, whose frame the great Three-One advised,  
And with a studied hand epitomised  
The large, voluminous, and perfect story  
Of all his works; The Manual of his Glory:  
Man, in whose soul, the all Eternal drew  
The Image of himself, for earth to view  
With fear and wonder, in whose sovereign eye  
He breathed the flames of dreadful Majesty,  
Filled him with power, entrusted to his hand  
Earth's Empire, and the lower world's command;  
Crowned him with glory, made him little lower  
Than heav'n-bred Angels, that excel in power.   

O but my soul, how is that hand ashamed  
Of his own work! How is this frame unframed!  
How is this Manual blotted? Every word  
How interlined? How is this Image blurred?  
How are those sparks of Majesty, that were  
So bright, now baffled with degen'rous fear?  
How is that power that was bred and borne  
The earth Commander, now become the scorn  
of dunghill Passion, shipwrackt with the Gust  
of every fatuous and inferior Lust!  
How is the Sunbright Honour of his Name  
Eclipsed! How is his Glory clothed with shame!   

Reflect upon thyself, my soul: Inquire  
Into the vastness of thy vain desire:  
What wouldst thou have, which (being had) may fill  
Th'unfathomed Gulf of thy insatiate will?  
Thou level'st at a Good: Wherein consists  
The Good thou level'st at? To what strange Lists  
Is her concealed Omnipotence confined?  
Where is this will-commanding Saint enshrined?  
Is not her royal person gone to view  
The Mines of Ophir, or the rich Peru?  
Or is she gone to oil the wings of Time  
With unctuous pleasures in some foreign Clime?  
Or is she mounted on the slippery Throne  
Of staggering Honour, there disguised, unknown?  
Alas, my soul, if heaven should suit thy store  
With thy desire, thou wouldst desire yet more:  
Verse 2 Or if spring tides of Gold should a degree  
Transcend thy wish, perchance it would want thee:  
Verse 3 What if a numerous Offspring should proclaim  
A perpetuity to th'lasting Name;  
Or if the even-spun ‛ Twine should be extended  
Till thou couldst number Nations all descended  
From thine own loins; yet, if the sparing hand  
of wayward Providence should chance to brand  
Verse. 5 Thy days with poverty, th' abortive birth  
Is more indebted to the gracious earth  
Than thou, whose shadow-grasping hand even tires  
Upon the vanity of thy vast desires:  
Nay, if both heaven and earth should undertake  
T' extract the best from all Mankind to make  
One perfect happy man, and thou wert He;  
Thy finite fortunes still would disagree  
Verse. 7 With thy insatiate soul: Some Qualms of earth,  
Hereditary to thy humane Birth,  
Would print thy pampered soul with such a fresh  
And lively Character of feeble flesh,  
That all thy Joys (do Fortune what she can)  
May not exempt thee from the Lot of Man.    

Cap. VII.  
1 Remedies against vanity, are a good name, 2 Mortification, 7 Patience, 11 Wisdom, 23 The difficulty of wisdom.  

Verse. 1 A good reputed Name is sweeter fare  
Than breaths of Aromatic Ointments are:  
And that sad day when first we drew our breath  
Is not so happy as the day of death.  
Verse. 2 Better it is to be a funeral guest  
Then find the welcomes of a frolic feast:  
There may'st thou view thy end, and take occasion  
T'enrich thy thoughts with fruitful contemplation.  
Verse. 3 Better to cloud thy face with grief, then show  
The lavish wrinkles of a laughing brow;  
For by the sad demeanour of thine eyes  
The heart's instructed, and becomes more wise.  
Verse. 4 The wise man's sober heart is always turning  
His wary footsteps to the house of mourning;  
But fools consume, and revel out the night  
In dalliance, and the day in lose delight.  
Verse. 5 The virtue of a wise man's fair reproof,  
Brings greater benefit to a man's behoof,  
Then all those eare-bewitching sweets that can  
Belch from the language of a foolish Man.  
Verse. 6 Look how the crackling thorns under the pot  
Blaze for a season, but continue not;  
Even so do foolish flatteries entertain  
Our souls with joy; but all that joy is vain.  
Verse. 7 When wise men turn Oppressors, they have cracked  
Their understandings in the very Act;  
And the acceptance of a Bribe destroys  
The grounds of Judgement, and it blinds her eyes.  
Verse. 8 In all attempts the onset does not lend  
So sweet a satisfaction, as the end:  
And he whose gentle spirit is endowed  
With meekness, is far better than the proud.  
Verse. 9 Let not thy hot-mouthed spirit entertain  
Too sudden passion with too slack a rain;  
For rash and unadvised anger rests  
Embosomed, and abides in foolish breasts.  
Verse. 10 Let not thy murmuring tongue desire to know  
Why former days were not so bad as now;  
Where heaven declares a Will, no wise man's eye  
Should search a Cause, or lips inquire a why.  
Verse. 11 Wisdom is profitable to advance  
Man's welfare, joined with inheritance;  
By this conjunction profit doth arise  
To those that toil beneath the sweltering skies.  
Verse. 12 Wisdome's a Guard; and treasure, a defence  
To supersede our wants, relieved from thence.  
Verse. 13 Wisdom's th'extract of knowledge, and convays  
To the possessor everblasting days.  
O let thy thoughts inquire and understands.  
The well-weighed works of the Almighty's hand.  
What he hath settled in a crooked state,  
No industry of man can make it strait.  
Verse. 14 In thy good day take pleasure, and be wise;  
In thy bad day have patience, and advise;  
For heaven gives both by turns, to let man see  
How alterable earthly pleasures be.  
Verse. 15 Much have I seen in this my short-lived day;  
Among the rest, the just man snatched away  
In his just works, whilst wicked find success,  
And prosper in their long-lived wickedness.  
Verse. 16 Since then th'upright man's recompense is such,  
Be not too wise, nor righteous over much;  
Why should thy too much righteousness betray  
Thy dangered life, and make thy life a prey?  
Verse. 17 Nor let the flesh suggest thee, or advise  
Thy thoughts to be too wicked, too unwise.  
Why should thy folly captivate thy breath,  
And make thee prisoner to untimely death?  
Verse. 18 In all thy courses therefore it is best  
To lodge uprightness in thy constant breast.  
For he that feareth the Almighty, shall  
Outwear his evil, or find no evil at all:  
Verse. 19 Wisdom affords more strength, more fortifies  
The undejected courage of the wise,  
Then all the twisted power of those that are  
The Guides of Cities, or their men of war.  
Verse. 20 Yet is there none beneath the crystal skies  
So just in action, or in word so wise;  
That doth always good, or hath not been  
Sometimes polluted with the stains of sin.  
Verse. 21 At passions language stop thy gentle ear,  
Lest if thy servant curse thee thou shouldst hear.  
Verse. 22 For oftentimes thy heart will let thee see  
That others likewise have been cursed by thee.  
Verse. 23 This wisdom by my travel I attained,  
And in my thoughts conceived that I had gained  
No common height, but on a strict revise  
I found my wisdom came far short of wise.  
Verse. 24 Objects far distant, secrets too profound  
What eye can entertain what heart can sound?  
Verse. 25 I bent my studious heart to search and pry  
Into the bosom of Philosophy;  
I gave myself to understands the Art  
Of folly, and the madness of the heart:  
I found the harlot's ways more bitter are  
Verse. 26 Then death, whose arms are Begins, whose heart's a snare;  
Whom heaven doth favour shall decline her Gates,  
But sinners shall be taken by her baits.  
Verse. 27 Lo, this I have observed, (the Preacher says)  
By strict inquest into their several ways:  
Verse. 28 Whereof my restless, my laborious mind  
Would make discovery, but despairs to find;  
Among a thousand men perchance that one  
May be traced out, but among women, none.  
Verse. 29 Lo here the fruits of all my disquisition  
Only to know the devious condition  
Of poor degen'rous man, whose first estate  
Heaven copied from himself, upright, and strait.    

soliloquy VII.  

SInce then my Soul, the frail and false Estate  
Of fading happiness cannot create  
The least contentment in thy various mind,  
Whose fancy-guided motion cannot find  
The point of Rest, but like the boiling waves  
Tossed in the storms of Earth, sometimes outbraves  
The threatening Firmament, then at a breath  
Darts down, and dashes at the doors of death;  
Since waxen-winged Honour is not void  
of danger, whether aimed at, or enjoyed;  
Since heart-enchaunting Profit hath not fruit,  
But care, both in fruition, and pursuit;  
Since Pleasure like a wanton itch doth breed  
In the rank flesh, but scratched until it bleed;  
Since laughter is but madness, and high diet  
Th'officious Pander of our owndisquiet;  
Since glorious Buildings, and magnific Towers,  
Fructiferous Orchards, odoriferous Bowers;  
Full clustered Vineyards, Beauties, and the choice  
Of Music, both by Instrument and voice,  
Can lend thy heart no full content, nor still  
The various clamours of th'insatiate will;  
Since humane wisdom is but humane trouble,  
And double knowledge makes our sorrow double;  
Since what we have, but lights our wish to more,  
And in the height of plenty makes us poor;  
And what we have not, too too apt to crave,  
Even dispossesses us of what we have;  
Nay, since the very act of our devotion  
Can bring no Rest, nor qualify the motion  
Of our unbounded thoughts, to sweeten out  
This span of frailty, plunged, and orbed about  
With floods of Bitterness: Since none of these,  
Nor all can crown our labours, nor appease  
Our raging hearts, O my deceived soul.  
Where wilt thou purchase Peace? Who shall control,  
Who shall suppress those Passions that contest  
Within the kingdom of thy troubled breast?  
Whither? to what strange Region wilt thou fly  
To find content, and balk that vanity  
Which haunts this bubble earth, and makes thee still  
A slave to thy infatuated will?  
Call home thyself: Inspect thyself anew,  
And take thy Birthright to afresh review:  
Thou art immortal; art divine by birth,  
A spark of heaven; Thou art not borne of earth;  
Earth is the footstool of thy heavenly Throne;  
Made for thy base parts to trample on.   

Look not so low, my soul. There's nothing there  
Fit for thy sacred view; It is no Sphere  
For thee to move in: No, let worms and beasts  
And savage brutes trade there, and lay their Gests  
Of progress, to surround with weary paces  
The base Confines of those inferior Places.   

I, but my soul, th' Alliance of my flesh  
Claims kindred there, taketh pleasure to refresh  
Her wasted body there: Earth is her mother,  
The worm her sister, and the beast her brother.   

'tis true, she is thy spouse, Heaven tied the knot  
For none to lose but Heaven: I know, her Lot  
Is mortal, frail, and being born of earth,  
Corrupt and wears the Badges of her birth.  
If she transgress, it's thou must bear the blame,  
And all her deeds reflect upon thy name;  
O then beware, and if she needs must go  
To visit earth, first, let her frailty know,  
How apt she is to fall, and she how prone  
To blur, and stain thy honour and her own.   

Verse. 1 A name unblemished with the sinful soil  
Of sordid earth, is as a precious Oil,  
Which like a sovereign Antidote prevents  
That plague of vanity which earth presents.   

Then tell her, tell her, that her mother Earth  
Must give her burial, as she gave her birth:  
Tell her, o tell her, Every gasp of breath  
Are minutes moving to the hour of death:  
And let her know, The house of mourning brings  
Verse. 2 More profit than the Palaces of Kings:  
Tell her, Less re all happiness doth dwell  
In a full Banquet, than a passing Bell,   

Verse. 3 Arm her with patience apt to entertain  
Verse. 8 Thy wise reproofs: but if her passion reign,  
Correct it wisely: Teach her sober eye  
Verse. 10 A willing ignorance in things too high.   

If liberal earth should chance to crown her store,  
Verse. 11 Let her wise modesty receive no more  
Than she can manage; Pilots that are wise  
Proportion out their Canvas to the skies.   

Let not her knowledge with the Eagle fly,  
Unless her wisdom have an eagle's eye.  
Verse. 12 Wisdom digests what Knowledge did devour,  
Things sweet in taste, are indigested sour.   

Verse. 14 In prosperous fortunes let her joy be such,  
That in hard times she may not grieve too much.   

Verse. 25 Let her count wisdom as her chiefest good,  
And the price easy, whether sweat or blood:   

Verse. 29 And let the Perclose of her thoughts be this,  
To study what Man was, and what Man is.   

So now my soul, thy well instructed flesh  
May visit earth, and with her sweets refresh  
Thy wasted spirit, secure from all those ills  
Which threaten ruin to distempered wills:  
Now mayst thou eat and drink, and make supplies  
Tor after days, and close thy peaceful eyes  
In calm content, and scape those hidden snares  
That lurk in pleasures, and increase our cares.   

He only takes advantage of his Lot,  
That uses earth, as if he used it not.    

Cap. VIII.  
1 Kings are greatly to he respected. 6 Divine providence is to be observed. 12 It is better with the godly in adversity, then with the wicked in prosperity. 16 The work of God is unsearchable.  

Verse. 1 WHo's equal to the Wiseman? who but he  
Can judge of things, or what their natures be?  
Wisdom adorns the Cheek with lovely grace;  
And plants courageous boldness in the face.  
Verse. 2 Let me advise the subjects heart to stands  
Devoted always to the King's command:  
For having sworn Allegiance to him, both  
Heaven and thy Conscience do attest thy oath.  
Verse. 3 Let not thy discontented haste incite  
Abrupt departure from his awful sight:  
If thou hast erred, continue not in ill,  
For Prince's Acts are guided by their will:  
Verse. 4 The potent Majesty of a Prince's word  
Is backed and made authentic by the sword:  
What venturous tongue dare question, or demand  
The least account from his illustrious hand?  
Verse. 5 Whose loyal breasts observe the laws of Kings,  
Shall never know the grief Rebellion brings:  
The wiseman's heart knows times, and judgement too,  
Not only when to speak, but what to do.  
Verse. 6 For there's to every purpose among men  
A judgement how to do, a season when,  
Which if mistaken, or not understood,  
Brings so much mis'ry upon flesh and blood.  
Verse. 7 For man is ignorant of what may fall,  
And who is he can tell him when it shall?  
Verse. 8 No man hath power to prolong his breath,  
Or make him shot-free in the day of death:  
There's no retreat in that sad war, nor can  
Man's wickedness preserve the wicked man.  
Verse. 9 All this have I observed, and have given  
My heart to note each Action under Heaven:  
There was a time when the oppressors Arm,  
Oppressed his brother to th'oppressors harm.  
Verse. 10 So have I seen grave Judges (but unjust)  
That fat in judgement, honoured to the dust  
Which hide their crimes; These seemed to obtain  
Some happiness: This happiness is vain.  
Verse. 11 Because a present sentence is not past  
Upon the wicked, their dull hearts at last  
Grow quite obdure, resolved, and fully bend,  
Toact what ev'lls their greedy lusts present.  
Verse. 12 Put case the sinner multiply his Crime,  
And his long days, even rust the  of Time:  
Yet well I know they only shall be blest,  
That fear th'Almighty with a filial breast.  
Verse. 13 I, but the wicked shall not scape secure,  
Though he live long, he shall not long endure;  
But like a shadow shall his days appear,  
Because he feared not whom he ought to fear.  
Verse. 14 There is a vanity reigns here below,  
I see the wise man reap what sinners sow,  
And sinners share when just men sow the seed;  
This Grief (said I) all other Griefs exceed.  
Verse. 15 Then praised I mirth, and held it the best choice  
Beneath the sun, to eat, and to rejoice:  
For this is all the good, this all the gains  
Is like to cheer our days, and crown our pains.  
Verse. 16 But when I set my busy heart to know  
Wisdom, and heavens strange working here; below:  
(For day and night my studies did deny  
Sleep to mine eyelids, slumbers to mine eye)  
Verse. 17 O than I found his works beneath the sun  
Past finding out; my fruitless thoughts did run  
This heavenly maze, till they (at length) concluded,  
Man's wit stoops here; here wisdom stands deluded.    

soliloquy VIII.  

But stay, my soul! What language does appear?  
Am I deceived? Or did I seent to hear?  
Which Tenet shall I balk? And which, embrace?  
Hath Truth, like Janus, got a double face?  
Did not that voice, 
Cap. 1.18.  that voted Wisdom vain  
But very now, now cry it up again? 
Cap. 8.1.   
Shall what was late condemned as a disease,  
Now prove a Remedy? Such slips as these  
Are brands of humane frailty, which belong  
To us and ours; It well beseems our tongue  
To contradict and jangle: Error's known  
By many faces; Truth admits but one:  
How haps it then, that wisdom, whose increase  
Adds to our Grief, yet crowns our days with peace?   

Be not deceived, my soul; Let not one Name  
Confound two Natures, and make two the same:  
Shall Names give Natures? Dare thy tongue profess  
An equal privilege to Curse and Bless  
For one Names sake? No, my deluded soul,  
Sooner may Light and Darkness, Fair and Foul,  
Sooner may Good and Evil; nay, Heaven and Hell  
May sooner startle from their Parallel,  
And turn Joint tenants in one perfect Line,  
Then these two Wisdoms, Humane and Divine.   

That breeds a Tumour in the flatuous breast;  
This lays it: That brings trouble, and This, rest:  
That kindles fires, and those fires increase  
To self-contention; This concludes a Peace:  
That dulls the thoughts, suppressed with low desires;  
This mounts thy soul with more heroic fires:  
That cannot brook the transitory frown  
Of Fortune's brow; This makes a Cross a Crown:  
That fills thy hopes with froth, and blurs thy youth  
With black-mouthed Error; This directs to Truth:  
That scorns advice, and like an ownself Lover  
Befools thee; But this honours the Reprover:  
That fears, and flees, or falls at every breath  
Of discontent; This triumphs, even in death:  
That breaks Relations, and for private ends,  
Dissolves Allegiance, and disbands true friends;  
This love's society, calls not Mine, but Ours,  
Yields due obedience to superior Powers:  
That pricked by Passion rushes into crimes;  
This backed with Reason counsels with the Times:  
That gives the name of Power; This the thing:  
That makes a Tyrant; This creates a King:  
That lights thy Honour, fading like a blaze;  
This crowns thy Name with everlasting days:  
That breeds a Serpent; this brings forth a Dove:  
That works a servile fear; This filial Love:  
That deads' thy spirit; This makes thee wisely bold:  
That scours thy Brass; But this refines thy Gold:  
That fills thy Feast with Cares; with fears, thy Breast;  
This makes thy morsel a perpetual Feast:  
That cools thy Palate, but inflames thy fire;  
This slakes thy Thirst, and satiates thy desire.   

O then, my soul, correct that flesh and blood  
That blinds thee so; and, like a gloomy Cloud,  
Thus interposes, and obscurely flies  
Betwixt the sacred object, and thine eyes:  
Clear up, my soul, and like the eye of day,  
Chastise that peccant darkness, and display  
Those mists of earth, which like false Glasses show  
Fanatic figures, and present thy view  
With specious objects, precious in esteem,  
(Alas) but nothing less, than what they seem.   

Then shall the wisdom of that scarlet Whore  
And all her baldpate Panders, painted o'er  
With counter faited Holiness, appear  
In her true colours, so that every ear  
That hears her base Impostures, and the fame  
of her lewd Piety, shall abhor the Name  
Of bloody Rome: Then shall the spotted Beast  
Put off her golden Trappings; and undressed  
Of all her glory, be turned out to graze  
In uncouth deserts, and consume her days  
With Dragons, Tigers, and those savage things,  
Now pampered with the blood of Saints and Kings.  
O than the crooked Paths of Error, fraud,  
And Candle-light devotion, trimmed and strawed  
With sweet-lipt Roses, shall appear as plain,  
As tide-forsaken Rocks along the Main.  
Then shall true wisdom, like fair Sheba's Queen,  
Begin her royal Progesse, and now seen  
In perfect Beauty, shall erect her Throne  
In every breast, and every Solomon  
Shall court her Glory, and intranc'd in pleasure,  
Shall smell her spices, and divide her treasure.    

CAP. III.  
1 Like things happen to good and bad. 4 There is a necessity of death unto men. 7 Comfort is all their portion in this life. 11 Gods providence ruleth over all. 13 Wisdom is better than strength.  

Verse. 1 ALL this I pondered, and at length I found  
All actions, whether just or wise, are crowned  
By secret providence: And no man knows  
God's love or hate, by blessings or by blows.  
Verse. 2 All haps alike to all; The same things do  
Befall the righteous and th'unrighteous too.  
Th'unclean, and clean, have here the selfsame pay;  
And he that prays, and he that doth not pray:  
Alike befalls to good and bad, and both  
To him that swears, and him that fears an oath:  
Verse. 3 It is a grief that grates beneath the Sun,  
That like events betid to every one;  
Which makes the  hearts of men to rave  
With mischief, till they drop into the Grave.  
Verse. 4 For the ambition of their hopes extend  
But to this life, and with this life they end:  
Better to be a living dog (they plead)  
Then to be known a Lion that is dead:  
Verse. 5 For they that live know well that they shall die,  
And therefore take their time; But they that lie  
Raked up in deaths cold Embers, they know not  
Or good or ill: Their names are quite forgot:  
Verse. 6 They have no friends to love, no foes to hate;  
They know no virtue to spit venom at;  
They fell no sweat for gains, nor do they buy  
Pleasure with pains, or trade beneath the sky:  
Verse. 7 Go then, rejoice, and eat: Let a full boul  
Cashier thy cares, and cheer thy frolic soul;  
What heaven hath lent thee with a liberal hand,  
To serve, and cheer thy frailty up, command.  
Verse. 8 Indulge thy careful flesh with new supply,  
And change of garments of the purest die;  
Refresh thy limbs, annoyed with sweat and toil,  
With costly baths, thy head with precious oil.  
Verse. 9 Delight thyself in thy delicious wife  
All the vain days of thy vain wasting life;  
Of all the works thy painful hand hath done,  
This, this is all the price beneath the Sun.  
Verse. 10 What ere thy hand endeavours, that may gain  
Contentment, spare not either cost or pain;  
For there's no hand to work, no power to have,  
No wisdom to contrive within the grave.   

Verse. 11 I find the swift not always win the prize,  
Nor strength of arm the battle, nor the wise  
Grow rich in fortunes, nor the men of skill  
In favour; all as time and fortune will.  
Verse. 12 Man knoweth not his time; As Fishes are  
Snared in the net, Birds tangled in the snare;  
So be the sons of men surprised with snares,  
When mischief falls upon them unawares.   

Verse. 13 This wisdom have I seen beneath the sky,  
Which wisely weighed, deserves a wise man's eye.   

Verse. 14 There was a little City poorly manned  
'Gainst which a Potent King brought up a band  
Of Martial strength, besieged it, and withal  
Built mighty Bulwarks 'gainst her slender wall;  
Verse 15 In this half conquered City there was found  
A poor wise man, whose wisdom did confound  
Both them & all the works their strength could plant;  
Yet no reward relieved this poor man's want.  
Verse 16 O then (thought I) poor wisdom will at length  
Discover greater worth than golden strength;  
Yet is the poor man's wisdom poorly prized,  
His word's not heard, or being heard, despised:  
Verse 17 The whispering wise man's tongue prevaileth more,  
Then when the lips of foolish Rulers roar:  
Verse 18 Prudent advice is more transcendent far,  
Then strength of Arm, or Instruments of war:  
But rash attempts of a misguided hand  
Defeat themselves, and ruin all the land.    

soliloquy IX.  

But ah, my soul, what boots it to be wise?  
Verse 2 Or what Advantage? what great profit lies  
In a fair Journey? to be well supplied  
With all Accoutrements, a knowing Guide,  
A mettled Steed, a sweet and temperate sky,  
Short miles, and way-beguiling Company;  
When armed death stands ready to attend  
Thy parting Stirrup at thy Journeys end?  
Thy wisdom cannot save thee; has no power  
To keep thee Shot-free, or to quit that hour.  
Dull Nabals Howreglasse runs as slow a pace  
As active solomon's: An equally space  
Divides their minutes; Death's impartial hand  
Wounds all alike, and death will give no sand.   

What then my soul? If wisdom should entail  
Our happiness on this life, or fill our Sail  
In this wild Ocean with perpetual breath,  
When should we find a Haven: If partial death  
Should favour wisdom, and not exercise  
Her office there, 'twere misery to be wise:  
The prudent Pilot whose marinall skill  
Makes the proud winds obedient to his will,  
And ploughs the Billows with less fear than wrong,  
Takes no delight to make his voyage long;  
But with his wise endeavours seeks to guide  
His slender Pinnace, and to curb the pride  
Of the rebellious waves, and doth address  
His care to crown his voyage with success:   

Our life's the voyage, and this world the Ocean,  
Our cares are waves tossed in perpetual motion;  
Our thoughts are busy winds, that often blow  
Too strong a Gale, and tosses to and fro  
Our crazy Vessels: Every soul does bear  
The office of a Pilot, now to steer,  
Now to advise; and still to lay commands  
Upon th' Affection-Saylors, whose rude hands  
Are always active, ready to fulfil  
The wise directions of the Pilots will.   

It matters not, my soul, how long or short  
Thy voyage be, if safe; they gain the Port  
With best advantage, that in peace arrive  
With Ribs unshook, and all their men alive.  
It lies not in the skilful Pilots power  
T avoid tempestuous Seas, but to endure;  
'Tis wisdom to endure, as well as do;  
Who bravely suffers, is victorious too.   

Then cheer, my soul; Let not the frowns of earth  
Disturb thy peace, or interrupt thy mirth:  
Let not that rude, that Apogean storm  
Of flesh and blood dismay thee, or deform  
The beauty of thy thoughts, or cast thy mind  
Into a base despondence: Let the wind  
Blow where it please, a well-prepared breast  
Will give thee shelter, and afford thee rest.   

When worldly crosses tempt thee, understand  
Heaven tries thy temper then; If then thou stand  
Upright in Court, and of unshaken mind,  
The Test approves thee, and thou art refined.   

Then cheer, my soul; Let not the rubs of earth  
Disturb thy peace, or interrupt thy mirth;  
If heaven hath crowned thy labours with success,  
Enjoy it freely; Eat and drink, and bless  
The gracious Giver; Let thy soul rejoice  
And take a cheerful pleasure in the choice  
Of all delights; and what his bounty gave  
With a free hand, fear not thou to receive  
With a free heart: Refresh thy fainting head  
Verse. 8 With precious Oils, and change thy careful bread  
To feasts of Joy; Or if a Cross should greet  
Thy frolic soul, march bravely on, and meet  
Adversity half way; and with a heart  
Too great for earth to wrong, shake hands and part:  
Cheer then my soul; Let not the rubs of earth  
Disturb thy peace, or interrupt thy mirth:  
Go, sweeten up thy labours and thy life  
Verse. 9 With fresh delights: Rejoice thee in the wife  
And partner of thy bosom; Let her breast  
Suffice thee as the Centre of thy rest:  
Deny thy heart no pleasure, that may lie  
Within the lawful limits of thine eye:  
Verse. 10 Take time while time shall serve; To morrow may  
Be none of ours; Come, come, be wise to day;  
And teach thy labours to bestow their sorrow  
On those that practise to be fools to morrow.    

CAP X.  
1 observations of wisdom and folly. 16 Of Riot, 18 Slothfulness, 19 and money. 20 men's thoughts of Kings ought to be reverenced.  

Verse. 1 LOok how dead flies (though few in number) soil,  
Corrupt and putrefy the purest Oil:  
Even so a little folly stains his fame  
Whom fair Repute for Wisdom lends a name.  
Verse. 2 A wise man's heart is placed at his right hand,  
His plots and counsels are of strong command;  
But hearts of fools are weak and rash, bereft  
Of sage advice; their hearts are at their left.  
Verse. 3 Nay, if their steps but measure out the way,  
Their Garb, their Looks, their Language do betray  
Their folly, read by whomsoe'er they meet;  
Themselves proclaim their selves in every street.  
Verse. 4 If thy Superior happen to incense  
His jealous wrath at thy supposed offence,  
Do thou thy part and yield, for yielding slakes  
The raging flame, that great transgression makes.   

Verse. 5 I see an evil beneath the Sun that springs  
From error, reigning in the breasts of Kings:  
Verse. 6 Fools are made Statesmen, and command at Court,  
And men of parts are made the lower sort.  
Verse. 7 So have I seen proud servants mounted high  
On Lordly Steeds, and Lords to lackey by.  
Verse. 8 He that shall dig a pit, that shall prepare  
A snare, shall be ensnared in his own snare.  
And he that tramples down a hedge shall meet  
A Serpent to salute his trampling feet.  
Verse. 9 He that shall shake a stone-compacted wall,  
Shall undergo the danger of the fall:  
Who undertakes to cleave the knotty Oak,  
Shall be a painful Partner in the stroke:  
Verse. 10 But if th'unwhetted edge be blunt, the arm  
Must give more strength, and so receive more harm;  
But if he challenge wisdom for his guide,  
Wisdom will do, what painful strength denied.  
Verse. 11 The rash reproving mouth of fools are armed  
Like unenchaunted serpents, if not charmed.  
Verse. 12 The wise man's words are gracious where they go,  
But foolish language doth themselves o'erthrow.  
Verse. 13 Folly brings in the Prologue with his tongue,  
Whose Epilogue is Rage and open wrong.  
Verse. 14 The fool abounds in tongue, there's none can know  
What his words mean, or what he means to do.  
Verse. 15 The tedious actions of a fool doth try  
The patience of the weary slander by;  
Because his weakness knows not how to lay  
His actions posture in a Civil way.  
Verse. 16 Woe to the Land, whose Princes wisdom sways  
The sceptre in the nonage of her days;  
And whose grave Rulers, that should haunt the seat  
Of sacred Justice, rise betime to eat.  
Verse. 17 Blessed art thou o Land, when as thy King  
Derives his royal blood from th'ancient spring  
Of Majesty, and Rulers timely diet  
Serves to maintain their strength, and not their riot.  
Verse. 18 By too much slothfulness the building falls  
Into decay, and ruin strikes her walls,  
And through the sluggish posture of his hand  
The weatherbeaten house forgets to stand:  
Verse. 19 Who eats and drinks and frolicks, uncontrol'd,  
Maintaining riot with his wanton gold.  
Verse. 20 Curse not the King, nor them that bear the sword,  
No, not in thought, though thought express no word;  
The fowls of heaven shall vent such hideous things,  
And swift Report shall fly with secret wings.    

soliloquy X.  

But ah, my soul! How closely folly cleaves  
To flesh and blood! How mongrel nature weaves  
Wisdom and Folly in the selfsame Loom,  
Like web and woof, whereby they both become  
One perfect Web to clothe our imperfections  
With Linsy-woolsy, and our mixed affections  
With foolish wisdom! O how full of earth  
Was our first Ore, which at our sinful birth  
Was taken from the Womb; Now purified  
In sacred Fires, and more than seven times tried  
In sharp afflictions furnace; yes how base  
Our Bullion is! not worthy of the Face  
That makes us currant; O how apt and prone  
Is flesh and blood to fall, if let alone  
But one poor Minute! Most in danger then  
To be surprised and foiled with Folly, when  
Our bold Presumption tempts our thoughts to prize  
Our wisdoms overmuch, and seem too wise.  
Verse. 1 How one rash action; O how one dead Fly  
Embalmed in thy sweet Oil does putrefy  
Thy Box of Spikenard! How it casts a shame  
Upon the beauty of thy honoured Name!   

O then, my soul, take heed to keep thy heart  
Verse. 2 At thy right hand; There, there she will impart  
Continual secrets, and direct thy ways  
In sacred Ethics, sweetening out thy days  
With seasoned Knowledge, knowledge past the reach  
Of black-mouthed Error, shall instruct and teach  
Thy tongue wise silence; Wisdom when to break  
Thy closed lips, and Judgement how to speak:  
she'll teach thee Christian Policy, and how  
Verse. 4 To keep thee safe when as thy Prince's brow  
Shall threaten death, even when the flame shall fly  
Like horrid Lightning from his wrathful Eye:  
I, but the rage of Princes oftentimes  
Darts Lightning at the Person, not his Crimes;  
And their misguided will oft times demands  
Obedience there, where Conscience countermands.   

Take heed, my soul; Thou treadest upon the Ice,  
Be not too venturous here, nor too too nice:  
Rush not too bold; thou mayst as soon convince  
An error in thy Conscience, as thy Prince.  
To lay commands upon indifferent things,  
Is a sole Royalty belongs to Kings.  
If here thy conscience doubt, the Book of Life  
Must cast the balance, and decide the strife:  
If this way, thy enforced obedience then  
Must stoop; If that, Please rather God than men.  
If th' Embers of his rage should chance to lie  
Raked up, or furnace from his angry eye,  
Verse. 4 Quit not thy duty: 'Tis thy part t'assuage  
The jealous flames of his consuming rage.  
What, if through Error or misguided will  
He leaves the way to Good, and cleaves to Ill;  
Lend him thy Prayers; Lament, advise, persuade,  
Lift not thy hand, nor let thy tongue upbraid  
His sacred Person; he's by heaven appointed  
To be thy Prince; O touch not heavens Anointed.  
What, if he lend the fullness of his power  
To those imperious Spirits that devour  
Subjects like bread, and drink the loyal blood  
Of men like water; men, not once allowed  
To plead for life; but silently subscribe  
To those that cannot judge without a Bribe?   

What, if his power pleases to commit  
His pastoral staff to such as are more fit  
To kill and eat, or recommend his flocks  
To such dumb dogs, of whom nor wolf nor fox  
Will stand in awe, or show their fears by flight,  
That have not tongues to bark, nor teeth to by't?  
Rebel not thou, nor in a hostile way  
Accost thy Prince; Or suffer, or obey.   

What, if the Common Favourite of the times  
Verse. 6 (The Courtly Fool, grown great with countenance) climbs  
Up to a Lordship, when the Man of merit  
Broke on the wheel of Fortune must inherit  
Nothing but scorn and want; and a poor name  
Betrayed to pity, and to empty Fame?  
Be thou thyself, let not thine eye be evil:  
To a wise heart both hills and dales are level.   

Verse. 17 How happy is that land, how blest the Nation  
Whose Prince directs by Power, not by Passion?  
Whose sacred wisdom knows how great a price  
True virtue bears, and how to punish Vice;  
Whose royal Majesty, and princely love  
Can both incorporate, and jointly move  
In a self glorious Orb, and from one Sphere  
Breathe such rare influence of love, and fear  
Into the hearts of Men, that all the land  
Shall cry a Solomon, and sweetly stand  
Rapt with sweet Peace, and sacred admiration:  
How happy is that land, how blest the Nation!    

CAP. II.  
1 Directions for Charity. 7 Death in life, 9 and the day of judgement in the days of youth, are to be thought on.  

Verse. 1 Upon the waters let thy bread be cast,  
And thou shalt find it when some days are past.  
Verse. 2 Give liberal Alms, for it's unknown to thee  
How full of wants thy after days shall be.  
Verse. 3 If clouds be full, will they deny to power  
Their fruitful Blessings in a liberal shower?  
Or North or South, or wheresoever the Tree  
Shall fall, no question it shall fall to thee.  
Verse. 4 He that observes the wind shall never sow:  
Who marks the clouds shall never reap nor mow.  
Verse. 5 Like as the Embryo's growth within their wombs,  
Is strange to thee, and how the soul becomes  
The body's inmate; even so all the rest  
Of Heavn's high works are strangers to thy breast.  
Verse. 6 Cast thou thy morning seed upon the land,  
And at the evening hold not back thy hand;  
For who is he can tell thee which of these  
Shall prosper best, or bring the best increase?  
Verse. 7 'Tis true, the light is sweet, and every one  
Takes pleasure in the world-rejoycing Sun:  
Verse. 8 But who lives many joyful years, if he  
But count how long his after shades shall be  
In earth's dark bosom, how can he refrain  
To think these short-lived flattering pleasures vain?  
Verse. 9 Rejoice, o young man, in thy youthful ways;  
Let thy heart cheer thee in thy youthful days,  
Delight thine eyes, thy heart, and take thy way;  
But know that heaven's account will find a day.  
Verse. 10 Then banish fals-eyed mirth: Be dispossessed  
Of those lewd fires that so inflame thy breast;  
For childhood, youth, and all their joys remain  
But for a season, and they all are vain.    

soliloquy II.  

SO now my soul, thy wisdome-seasoned breast  
May eat and drink, and labour, and digest  
Thy careful morsels, and with holy mirth  
Disperse the clouds of melancholy earth:  
Now mayst thou sit beneath thy clustered Vine,  
And press thy Grapes, and drink thy frolic wine  
In soft and plenteous Peace, and leave to morrow  
To bear the burden of her self-born sorrow:  
Now mayst thou walk secure from all those threats  
of peevish Fortune, and the sly deceits  
Of flattering pleasure: Plenty cannot drown  
Thine eyes in mirth, nor misery cast thee down:  
If the blue Rafters of the falling skies  
Should leave their spangled Mansion, and surprise  
Thy feeble strength, well may their ruins smite thee,  
And grind thy clod to dust, but not affright thee.   

What want'st thou then, my soul, that may augment  
The real happiness of a true content?  
What virtue's wanting now, whose absence may  
Encourage boldfaced vanity to betray  
Thy even-spunne days to sorrow; or occasion  
Thy faire-contrived designs to taste vexation?  
Wouldst thou have Honour? thou enjoyest it: Treasure?  
Thou hast it: wouldst thou gain the greater pleasure  
Of a true noble Spouse; whose life may show  
Virtues rare quintessence? Thou hast that too:  
Wouldst thou have hopeful Sons to crown thy Last  
With Peace and Honour? Such rare Sons thou hast:  
Thy Prince's favour? Or thy people's love?  
All this thou hast: Wisdom in things above?  
Thou hast it: Knowledge in these Toys beneath?  
Thou hast it: Skill in th' Arts? or curious breath  
Of whispering State? All this thou hast: Where, then,  
Shall thy new wishes fix, Rare Man of men?   

I, but my soul, one good is wanting still  
To sum a full Perfection, and to fill  
Thy Cruise with happiness: which if possessed,  
Thou hast a Diadem, crownes all the rest:  
Hadst thou the tongues of men, and couldst thou break  
Thy lips in Oracles; Or couldst thou speak  
The dialects of Angels when they sing  
Their sacred Canzons to their sovereign King,  
A tinkling Cymbal, or the hideous sounds  
Of discomposed discords, or the Rounds  
Of frolic midnight madness would requite  
Thy wild attention with as much delight,  
And breathe as sweetly in the Almighty's ear  
If heart-rejoicing Charity be not there:  
Hadst thou what strength the Parnassean Muse  
Can bless thy fancy with, or heaven infuse;  
Hadst thou a Faith to make the mountains fly  
In the vast Orb, like Atoms in thine eye;  
Less than those Atoms would thy Faith appear,  
If faith-confirming Charity be not there:  
Shouldst thou, to purchase heaven, renounce thy Right  
Of all thy goods, and turn an Anchorite;  
Or should thy courage, to deserve the name  
Of Martyr, give thy body to the flame,  
When that blood pleads, heaven will not lend an ear  
If heav'n-engaging Charity be not there.   

Since then, my soul, both Faith and Works lie dead  
Verse. 1 If Charity fail, be wise, and cast thy bread  
Upon the Waters; As the Waters run  
Deal thou thy dole, until thy dole be done.  
Man is God's Husbandry; If then the Plough  
Of careful want hath struck the furrowed Brow,  
Verse. 6 And make it fit for seed; Hold not thy hand;  
He robs himself that faintly sows the Land:  
Stay not for showers; The soil, if overflown,  
Will drown thy seed-corn, and return thee none:  
Let not some weeds discourage thee to sow.  
The Plough will root them up, or if they grow  
Too sturdy for the Coulters' point to kill,  
Fear not thy harvest; A hard Winter will.  
Cast not lank grain upon too lean a ground,  
Fair Crops from off all Corn are rarely found.  
Sow closely what thou sow'st, and least in sight,  
The eyes of Doves will make thy harvest light:  
But stay! Thou mayst surcharge as well as starve  
The soil; But wise men know what seed will serve:  
Thy work thus wisely done; what, then, remains?  
Give Heaven the glory, and expect the Gains.    

CAP. XII.  
1 The Creatourrs to be remembered in due time. 8 The Preachers care to edify. 13 The fear of God is the chief Antidote of vanity.  

Verse. 1 REmember thy Creator in thy prime  
Of present youth, before the black-mouthed time  
Of sullen age approach; before the day  
Thy dying pleasures find a dull decay;  
Verse. 2 Before the Sun, and Moon, and Stars appear  
Dark in thy Microcosmal Hemisphere;  
Verse. 3 Before the Clouds of sorrows multiply,  
And hid the Crystal of thy gloomy sky;  
Before the Keepers of thy crazy Tower  
I'll palsie-stricken, and thy men of power  
Sink as they march, and Grinders cease to grind  
Distasteful bread, and windows are grown blind.  
Verse. 4 Then shall the Castles two-leafd gates be barred  
When as the Millstones language is not heard;  
The horn-mouth Belman shall affright thy slumbers,  
Thy untuned ear shall loathe harmonious numbers:  
Verse. 5 Each obvious molehill shall increase thy fears,  
And careful snow shall blanche thy falling hairs;  
A fly shall load thy shoulders: Thy desire  
And all thy bedrid passions shall expire.  
Pale death's at hand, and mourners come to meet  
Thy tear-bedabled funerals in the Street.  
Verse. 6 Then shall the sinews silver cord be loosed  
Thy brains gold bowl be broke: The undisposed  
And idle liver's ruby fountain dried;  
The bloods Meandring Cisterns unsupplied.  
Verse. 7 Then shall the dust her dust, to dust deliver,  
Whose spirit shall return to God the Giver.   

Verse. 8 Whereto th'ecclesiastic thus replies,  
All, all is vain, and vainest vanities.  
Verse. 9 Because his true repentant soul was wise,  
He read this wisdome-lecture, did advise  
And search the Fountain, whence he did convey  
The fruitful streams in a Proverbial way.  
Verse. 10 He sought and found such words, which had the might  
To entermingle profit with delight;  
And what his spirit-prompted pen did write  
Was truth itself, and most exact upright.  
Verse. 11 The wise man's words are like to Goads, that do  
Stir up the drowsy, and spur up the slow:  
And like to nails to be made fast and driven  
By hands to th'hearts of men sent down from heaven.   

Verse. 12 Make use, my Son, of what this hand hath penned,  
There is no end of Pamphlets to no end;  
These tyre the flesh, and after age is spent,  
They breathe some knowledge, but no true content.  
Verse. 13 Mark then the ground where the main building  
Fear thou thy God, Observe his just Commands.  
Within the limits of this sacred Ground stands,  
Man's duty lies; true Happiness is found:  
Verse. 14 No work shall pass untried: No hand hath done  
What shall not plead at heaven's Tribunal Throne:  
All secrets good and bad attend his Eye;  
His Eyes behold where day could never pry.   Deus his quoque finem.  

soliloquy XII.  

NOw launch, my soul, into this Sea of Tears;  
Fear storms and Rocks, yet smile upon thy fears;  
Weigh Anchor; Hoist thy weatherbeaten Sails;  
The Tides run smooth; The wind breathes prosperous Gales.  
Tridented Neptune now hath struck a peace  
With full-mouthed Aeolus, and the wars surcease:  
They sound a parley, and begin to treat,  
And Sea-green Triton sounds a shrill Retreat.  
March new, my soul, through Hadadrimmons Vale  
Without a tear; or if thou must bewail,  
Mourn for vain Earth, and drop in alms, one tear  
For him that finds no happiness but there.  
Now mayst thou trample on the Asp, and tread  
on the young Lion, and th' old Dragon's head;  
Wisdom shall guide thee, Love shall circumclose thee,  
That fraud shall not beguile, or force oppose thee.  
Thy Prince shall honour thee, thy Peers embrace thee;  
No Crime shall shame thee, and no tongue disgrace thee;  
The rich shall reverence thee, the poor shall bless thee;  
Wrath shall not overrule, nor pride oppress thee;  
Thy want shall not afflict, nor wealth betray thee,  
This shall not puff thee up, nor that dismay thee:  
Pleasure shall not ensnare, nor pains torment thee,  
This shall not make thee sad, nor that repent thee.  
Blest shall thy Labours be, and sweet thy Rest;  
Blest shall thy Thoughts be, and thy Actions blest;  
Blest in thy peace, and blest in thy promotion;  
Blest in thy sports, and blest in thy devotion;  
Blest in thy losses, blest in thy increases;  
Blest in thy health, and blest in thy diseases;  
Blest in thy Knowledge, blest in thy Corrections;  
Blest in thy Soul, and blest in thy Affections.   

O than my soul, let thy Affections flow  
In streams of love to Him that loved thee so;  
Let not his high-prized benefits depart  
From thy remembrance, grave them in thy heart  
With Tools of Adamant, that they may last  
To after times, that when thy days be past,  
Thy well-instructed children may emblaze  
Thy Maker's goodness to the last of days.  
Bless thou the Lord, my soul; Let thy whole frame,  
And all within thee magnify that Name  
That blessed thee so; Bless thou the Lord, my soul,  
Report his precious favours, and enrol  
His numerous mercies in thy grateful breast:  
Verse. 1 Remember thy Creator; O protest  
His praises to the world, and let thy tongue  
Make him the subject of thy youthful song;  
Give him the firstlings of thy strength, even than  
When fading Childhood seeks to ripen man  
Upon thy downy cheeks; when vigour trains  
The sparkling blood through thy Meandring veins;  
Before thy flowing marrow shall foment  
Thy lust full fires; before the false content  
Of frothy pleasures shall begin t'invite.  
Thy fond Affections to a vain delight.  
Then, then, my soul, whilst thy supplies are fresh  
And strong, wage war with thy rebellious ftesh;  
Gird up thy loins, and march, spare neither sweat  
Nor blood, take courage, strike, subdue, defeat:  
Sing a triumphant song; sing Io Paean,  
Adorn thy brows with Palm, and again sing Io Paean.  
Take time while time shall serve; 'tis thine to day,  
But secret danger still attends delay.  
Do while thou mayst; To day has eagle wings,  
And who can tell what change to morrow brings?  
Advantage wastes, and strength of body wears,  
Life has no Lease; and Youth, no Term for years:  
Verse. 3 When creeping Age shall quench thy sprightly fires,  
And breathe cold Winter on thy i'll desires,  
Verse. 2 What fire shall burn thy offerings? O what praise  
Can issue forth from cold decrepit days?  
When ebbing bloods neap-tides shall strike thy limbs  
With trembling Palsies; when dry Age bedims  
The optic sunshine of thy bedrid days,  
What boots thy cold, thy Paralytic praise?  
When secret Ulcers shall attaint thy breath  
With fumes more noisome than the sinks of death,  
What pleasure shall thy great Creator raise  
From thy breath-tainted, and unsavoury praise?   

Come then, my soul, Rouse up thy dull desire,  
And quicken thy faint coals of sacred fire,  
That lie raked up in th'Embers of thy flesh;  
Fetch breath from heaven, and with that breath refresh  
Thy glimmering sparks: Brook not the least delay,  
Embers grow cold, and sparks will soon decay.    
THE END.   

In obitum viri clarissimi, at que ingeniosissimi Poëtae, Francisci QUARLES, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  

I Cygne felix, ocyùs avola,  
Cantator ales, cùm neque jam vada  
Ripis supersint, nec quietae   

Purus aquae fluat (ecce!) rivus;  
Fontes nec ipsi: Sanguine, sanguine  
(Heu!) cuncta manant quod mare civicae  
Non decolorauêre caedes?   

Ipsa, vides, rubet Hippocrene.  
Et quis poëtis jam locus aut latex?  
Quae lympha Musis? cùm cruor undique.  
Hinc, hinc migrandum, nibibemus   

Purpureas Heliconis undas.  
At ô Camaenarum & dolor & decus,  
Tu si recedas, quis tua funera  
Cantabit, ô divine vates?   

Que moritur moriente Phoebus.  
Quisquámne fundet jam querulum melos?  
(Falsum nec omen nominis hoc tui;)  
Moestúmve panget carmen arte,   

Melpomenes citharâ canorus?  
Quis serta coelo jam dabit? aut pium  
Emb lema texet floribus ingenî?  
Quis symbolorum voce pictâ   

Vnà oculos animúmque pascet?  
Quis melle puro jam, calami potens,  
Condîta promet dia poëmata?  
Aut funditabit, grande, sacro   

Enthea metra calens furore?  
Quis sanctitatem nectare carminis  
Tinctam propinans, digna Deo canet?  
Coelúmque versu claudet omni,   

Atque fidem fidibus sonabit?  
Tu nempe litem, si pote, publicam  
Compescuisses dulcisonis modis,  
Ni laeva nobis mens, & orbi   

Harmoni am reducem dedisses.  
Mollîsse magnos tu poteras duces,  
Feras ut Orpheus flexanimis sonis;  
Pacémque pulsam, júsque mundo, ac   

Eurydicen retulisse cantu.  
Per te coîssent dissita pectora,  
Per te coîssent diruta moenia:  
Tu solus Amphion peritus   

Vel lapides sociare plectro.  
Postquàm hoc negatum; ponere noveras  
Emblema saltem flebile seculi,  
Bellique: nostris sed nec ullum   

Par Hieroglyphicum ruinis.  
Quando ergo te nec terra capit, tuis  
Nec digna Mnsis; I, pete coelites,  
Intérque coetus Angelorum   

Perpetuum modulare carmen.   
Jacobus Duport, Graecae Linguae Professor Cantab.   

An Elegy upon the famous Poet FRANCIS QUARLES.  

IS Quarles dead? his active spirit flown?  
And none to lend a tear, a sigh, a groan,  
For the world's loss? me thinks at least alleys  
(Since tongues can not) should weep large Elegies.  
Expect no Muses; for they at his death  
Compassionate, lost their Poetic breath.  
Expect no marble Tomb; he's above fate;  
His name (if Learning live) shall know no date:  
His issue shall survive posterity,  
This age and th'next, and so t'eternity.  
Peruse his Fancies, and his Emblems wrapped;  
And see S. Paul into the third heavens rapt:  
Or else some Cherubin sent down from thence  
T'unfold heavens Mysteries in heaven's Eloquence.  
A Poet-saint he was, in him each line  
Speaks out at large rare Poet, choice Divine.  
His message done, he flies unto his Maker,  
Of what he told us here, to be partaker.  
His prisoned soul was so harmonious here;  
Now lose, what Music, think you, makes she there!  
She wept, then sung; now sung, ' gain wept in rhyme:  
Her Rest now know no stop, her joy no time.  
Her Fancy Vision is, she now doth live  
With Angel's food, knowledge intuitive.  
By Emblems dark to spell the Deity  
She taught before, now sees Divinity.  
But stay, my Muse: the clouds do interpose  
Twixt thee and her; 'tis better for thee close,  
Then pierce, or peep too fare. Phoebus is set;  
thoust paid thy tribute light, thy tribute heat,  
Sigh out the rest: or wouldst thou to him go,  
Thy Love, thy Life? Go be entombed too. R. Stable.   
FINIS.