University of Virginia Library

The second Booke.

1. To Almighty God .

Lord , Thou requir'st the first of all our Time,
The first of all our Actions, and the prime
Of all our Thoughts; And, Lord, good reason, we,
When Thou giv'st all, should give the first to Thee:
But O, we often rob thee of thy due,
Like Elies Children, whom thy vengeance slue:
Wee pinch thy Offring to enlarge our Fee;
We keepe the Fat, and carve the Leane to Thee:
We thrust our three-tooth'd Flesh-hook in thy Pot,
That only, what the Flesh-hook taketh not,
We share to thee: Lord, we are still deceiving;
We take the Prime, and feed thee with our leaving:
Our Sluttish Bowles are cream'd with soile & filth,
Our Wheat is full of Chaffe; of Tares, our Tilth:
Lord, what in Flesh and Blood can there be had,
That's worth the having, when the best is bad:
Here's nothing good, vnlesse thou please to make it;
O, then, if ought be worth the taking, take it.

2. On Gods Dyet..

Deare Lord; when we approch thy sacred Fire,
To burne our Sacrifice, thou do'st require
The Heads of ev'ry Beast that dyes; the Hearts;
Th'enclosed Fatt; and all the Inward parts:
Our Senses and our Memories must be,
All set apart and sanctifi'd to Thee;
The strength of our Desires, the best perfections
Of our imperfect Wills, the choyce Affections
Of our refined hearts must all conioyne
To seeke thy Glory: They must all be thine:
I know thy Dyet, Lord; Of all the rest,
Thou do'st affect the Head and Purtnance, best.

3. On Moses Birth and Death.

We read; no sooner new-borne Moses crept
Into this vale of Teares, but th'Infant wept;
But, being warned of his Death, his Last,
We find it storied, that he sung as fast:
These sev'rall Passions found their reason, why;
He dy'd to live, but he was borne to dye:
To whom this Transitory life shall bring
Iust cause to weepe; there, death gives cause to sing.

4. On Ieptha's Vow.

Victorious Ieptha, could thy Zeale allow
No other way, then by a rash-made Vow,
T'expresse thy Thanks? A Vow, whose undertaking
Was ev'n a Sin more odious, then the making:
'Twas cruell Piety that taught thee how
To paddle in thy Daughters Blood: But thou,
Unlucky Virgin! was there none to be
Betwixt thy Fathers mortall Brow, and Thee?
Why cam'st thou forth, sweet Virgin? To what end
Mad'st thou such needlesse hast? Thou cam'st, to lend
Thy filiall Triumph to thy Fathers Wreath;
Thou thought'st to meet a Blessing, and not Death:
Rash Ieptha! may not thy repentance quit
That Vow, when Rashnesse was the Cause of it?
O can'st thou not dispence with that, wherein
Thy strict Religion's a presumptuous Sin?
Is she unhappy, or thou cruell rather?
Vnhappy Child, and too too cruell Father.

5. On Iesus and Sampson .

An Angel did to Manoahs wife appeare,
And brought the news her barren womb should beare:
Did not another Angel, if not He,
Thrice blessed Virgin, bring the same to thee?
The Wife of Manoah (nine moneths being run)
Her Heav'n-saluted womb brought forth a Son:
To thee, sweet Virgin, full of Grace and Heaven,
A Child was borne, to us a Son was giuen:
The name of hers was Sampson, borne to fight
For captiv'd Israel, and a Nazarite:
Thine was a Naz'rite too, and borne to ease us
From Sathans burthens, and his name is Iesus:
Sampson espous'd, and tooke in Marriage her
That was the child of an Idolater;
Our Iesus tooke a wife, that bow'd the knee
And worshipt unknowne gods, as well as she:
Assaulted Sampson met, and had to doe
With a fierce Lyon; foyld, and slue him too:
Our conquering Iesus purchas'd higher fame;
His arme encountred Death, and overcame:
Victorious Sampson stept aside, and drew
Pure Honey from the Carcasse that he slue;
When our triumphing Iesus sought, and found
A greater sweetnes in his Lyons wound.
Vxorious Sampson pleases to divide
His purchas'd Honey, to his fairest Bride:
But what! Is Sampson singular in this?
Did not our Iesus doe the like to his?
Sampson propounds a Riddle, and does hide
The folded Myst'ry in his faithles Bride:
Our blessed Iesus propounds Riddles too,
Too hard for Man, his Bride unsought, t'undoe:
The Bride forsakes her Sampson; do's betroth her
To a new Love, and falsly weds another:
And did not the adult'rous Iewes forgoe
Their first Love Iesus, and forsake him too?
Displeased Sampson had the choyce to wed
The younger Sister in the Elders stead:
Displeased Iesus had espous'd the Younger;
God send her fairer; and affections stronger:
Sampson sent Foxes on his fiery errant,
Among their corn, & made their crimes his warrant:
Offended Iesus shewes as able signes
Of wrath: His Foxes have destroyd their Vines:
Our Sampsons love to Delilah was such,
That for her sake poore Sampson suffer'd much:
Our Iesus had his Delilah: For her
His Soule became so great a sufferer.
Sampson was subject to their scorne and shame:
And was not Iesus even the very same?
Sampson's betrayd to the Philistians hands,
Was bound a while, but quickly brake his bands:
Iesus, the first, and second day, could be
The Graves close pris'ner; but, the third, was free:
In this they differ'd; Iesus dying Breath
Cry'd out for Life; but Sampsons cald for Death:
Father forgive them, did our Iesus crye;
But Sampson, Let me be reveng'd and dye:
Since then, sweet Saviour, tis thy Death must ease us,
We flye from Sampson, and appeale to Iesus.

6. On Elyes double censure.

When barren Hanna, prostrate on the Floore,
In heat of Zeale and passion, did implore
Redresse from Heav'n, censorious Ely thought
She had beene drunk, and checkt her for her fault;
Rough was his Censure, and his Check, austere;
Where mildnesse should be us'd, w'are oft severe.
But when his lustfull Sonnes, that could abuse
The House of God, making her Porch their Stues,
Appear'd before him, his indulgent tongue
Compounded rather then rebuk'd the wrong;
He dare not shoot, for feare he wound his Childe;
Where we should be severe, w'are oft too milde:
Vnequall Ely! was thy Sentence iust,
To censure Zeale, and not to punish Lust?
Could thy parentall mildnesse but have past
The former by as eas'ly, as the last,
Or had the last, by iust proportion, bin
Rated but like the first supposed sin,
Perchance thy aged head had found encrease
Of some few dayes, and gone to sleepe, in peace:
Passions misplac'd are dangerous: Let all
Remember Elies Faults, with Elies Fall.

7. On the refining of Gold.

Hast thou observed how the curious hand
Of the Refiner seeks to understand
The inadultr'ate purenesse of his Gold?
He waighs it first, and after does infold
In Lead; and then, commits to the Fire;
And, as the Lead consumes, the Gold drawes nigher
To his perfection, without wast or losse
Of his pure substance, but his waight, his drosse:
The Great Refiner of Mans baser Heart
Vses the like, nay showes the selfe-same Art;
He weighs it, first, and finding it too full
Of Trash and Earth, he wraps it in some dull
And leaden crosse, of Punishment, or Sin;
Then, tryes it in Afflictions Fire; wherein,
The Lead and Drosse evaporate together,
And leaves the Heart refin'd, and quit of either:
Thus though Mans Heart be lessen'd by the Crosse,
And lighter; 'Tis but lighter by the Drosse.

8. On Dagon and the Arke.

What newes with Dagon? Is thy Shrine so hot,
Thou canst not keepe it? Or has Dagon got
The falling sicknes, that his Godship's found
On such a posture, prostrate on the Ground?
Poore helplesse God! But stay! Is Dagon growne
So weake ith' hamms: Nor stand, nor rise, alone?
A God, and can not rise? Tis very odde!
He must have help, or lye: A proper God!
Well, Dagon must requier help of hands;
Vp Dagon goes the second time, and stands
As confident as though his place had bin
His owne, in Fee: Downe Dagon falls agin:
But Dagon's shrewdly martyr'd with the iumpe,
Lost hands and Head, and nothing left but stumpe:
Sure, all's not well with Dagon, now a late;
Hee's either sicke, or much forgot the State,
Belonging to so great a God: Has none
Offer'd some stinking Sacrifice, or blowne
Some nausceous fume into his Sacred Nose,
And made his God-ship dizzy? Or who knowes,
Perchance h'as taken Pett, and will resigne
His sullen place, and quitt his empty Shrine:
No wonder, a false God should stoope, and lye
Vpon the floore, when as a true God's by:
It was unlikely, Dagon should forbeare
Respite of Homage, when the Arke was there:
If I would worship a false God at all,
It should be one that would not scorne to fall
Before his Betters: whose indiff'rent arme,
If it could doe no good, could doe no harme;
I'd rather choose to bend my idle knee,
Of all false Gods, to such a God as Hee,
Whose spirit's not too quick: The fabulous Frogge
Found greater danger in the Stork, then Logge:
And to conclude, I'd choose him, Dagon-like,
Not having Head, to plot; nor Hand, to strike.

9. On Saule and David .

Svre, Saul as little lookd to be a King,
As I: and David dreamd of such a thing,
As much as he; when both alike did keepe,
The one his Fathers Asses; t'other, Sheepe:
Saul must forsake his Whip: And David flings
His Crooke aside; And they must both be Kings:
Saul had no Sword; and David, then, no Speare;
There was none Conquer'd, nor no Conqu'ror there;
There was no Sweat; There was no Blood, to shed;
The unsought Crowne besought the wearers head;
There was no Stratagem; No Opposition;
No taking parts; No iealous Competition:
There needs no Art; There needs no Sword to bring,
And place the Crown, where God appoints the King.

10. On David and Goliah .

Sathan's the great Goliah, that so boasts
And threats our Israel, and defyes her Hosts:
Those smoother Stones couragious David tooke
From the soft bosome of the silver Brooke,
Are Scriptum ests: The Sling, that gives them flight,
Is Faith; That makes them flye, and flye aright:
Lord, lend me Davids Sling, and then I know,
I shall have Davids strength and courage too;
Give me but skill to pick such Stones, as these,
And I will meet Goliah, when he please.

11. On Sauls Witch.

VVhen Saul receiv'd no answer down frō heav'n
How quickly was his jealous passion driven
A despr'ate Course! He needs must cure the Itch
Of his extreame desiers, by a Witch:
When we have lost our way to God, how levell,
How easie to be found's the way toth' Divell.

12. On the necessity of Gods presence.

When thou wert present with thy strengthning Grace,
Saul prophesied, and fought:
But when, Great God, thou didst with-draw thy face,
Murther was in his thought:
Thus, as thou giv'st, or tak'st away thy hand,
We either fall, or stand.

13. Davids Epitaph on Ionathan .

Here lyes the fairest Flowre, that stood
In Isr'els Garden; now, in Blood;
Which, Death to make her Girland gay,
Hath cropt, against her Triumph Day:
Here, here lies Hee, whose Actions pen'd
The perfect Copie of a Frend,
Whose milk-white Vellam did incurre
No least suspition of a Blurre:
Here lyes th'example of a Brother,
Not to bee follow'd by another;
The faire indented Counter-part
Of Davids Ioy, of Davids Heart:
Rest then; For ever, rest alone;
Thy Ashes can be touch'd by none,
Till Death hath pickt out such another:
Here lyes a Flow'r, a Friend, a Brother.

14. On Gods Word.

Gods sacred Word is like the Lampe of Day,
Which softens wax, but makes obdure the clay;
It either melts the Heart, or more obdures;
It never falls in vaine; It wounds, or cures:
Lord, make my brest thy Hive, and then I know,
Thy Bees will bring in Waxe and Honey too.

15. On Man.

By Nature, Lord, men worse then Nothing be;
And lesse then Nothing, if compar'd with Thee;
If lesse and worse then Nothing, tell me than,
Where is that Somthing, thou so boasts, proud Man?

16. On Ahaz Diall.

Mans Heart's like Ahaz Dyall; If it flees
Not forward; it goes backward ten Degrees.

17. On Lust.

Lvst in an Ignis fatuus, that arises
From the base Earth, that playes her wanton prizes,
In solitary Hearts, and ever haunts
Darke places, whose deceitfull flame inchaunts
The wandring steps of the diverted stranger,
Still tempting his mis-guided feet to danger:
She neuer leaves, till by her faire delusion,
Shee brings him headlong to his owne confusion.

18. On Thamar and Ammon .

She must be lov'd; Then courted; and what more?
Enioy'd; then hated; then expeld the dore:
Ammon must be discov'red; must obtaine
License to Feast; and then, be drunke; then slaine:
O what Repose is had in sinfull Breath,
Whose love, in hate; whose mirth cōcludes in death?

19. On Loue and Lust.

They'r wide, that take base Lust, for Loves halfe-brother,
Yeelding two Fathers, but the selfe same Mother:
Lust is a Monster, that's conceiv'd and bred
Of the abused Will; maintaind, and fed
With sensuall Thoughts; Of nature rude, uncivill;
Of life, robustious; and whose Sire's the Devill:
But Love's the Childe of th'uncorrupted Will,
Norrisht with Vertue, poys'ned with the Swill
Of base respects; Of nature, sweet and milde;
In manners, gentle; eas'ly knowne, whose Childe;
For, by the likenesse, ev'ry eye may gather,
That he's the Off-spring of a heav'nly Father:
This, suffers all things; That, can suffer nothing;
This, never ends; That, ever ends in loathing:
T'one loves the Darknes most: The other, Light:
The last's the Childe of Day; The first, of Night;
The one is meeke; The other, full of Fyre;
This never laggs; That ever apt to tyre;
T'ones rash and furious; T'other milde and sage;
That dies with youth; whilst This survives with age;
The One's couragious; Tother full of Feares;
That seekes; The other baulks both eyes and eares:
In breife, to know them both aright, and misse not;
In all respects, t'one is, what to'ther is not:
So farre from Brothers, that they seeme disioyn'd,
Not in Condition only, but in kinde:
Admit a Falshood: that they had one Mother,
The best that Lust can claime's a Bastard Brother:
Great God, must thou be conscious of that Name,
Which iealous Mortals count the height of shame?
And not thy Nuptiall Bed alone defil'd,
But to be charged with the base-borne Childe?
And yet not mov'd? and yet not move thy Rod?
Hast thou not cause to be a Iealous God?
Can thy iust Iealousies, Great God, be grounded,
On Mans disloyalty, not Man confounded?

20. On a Tinder-Boxe.

My Soule is like to Tinder, whereinto
The Devill strikes a Sparke, at ev'ry blow;
My Hearts the Flint; The Steele Temptation is;
And his Suggestions hit, and never misse:
His Hand is sure; My Tinder apt to catch,
Soone sets on fier ev'ry profer'd Match.

21. On Achitophel .

Sage were thy Counsels, and as well apply'd,
If thou hadst had but Loyalty on thy side:
I like thy last Designe (above the rest)
When thou hadst set thy House in order, best:
In all Exploits, the Rule is not so ample,
Not halfe so beneficiall as th'Example:
Th'Almighty prosper Christian Crownes; and blesse
All such like Counsels, with the like successe:
Confound Achitophel: and, Lord, impart
His Head to us; and to our Foes, his Heart.

22. On Sinne.

23. On the Sun and starres.

Ovr dying Saviour's like the setting Sun;
His Saints, on earth, are like the Stars of night:
Experience tels us, till the Sun be gon,
The starres appeare not, and retaine no light:
Till Sun-set we descerne no Starres at all,
And Saints receive their Glory, in his fall.

24. On Absolon and Sampson .

Sampsons defect, and thy excesse of hayre,
Gave him his death, oth' ground; thee, thine ith' ayre:
His thoughts were too deprest; thine sor'd too high;
As mortals live, so oftentimes, they die.

25. On Gods favour.

Gods favour's like the Sun, whose beams appeare
To all that dwell in the worlds Hemispheare,
Though not to all, alike: To some, they expresse
Themselves more radiant, and to others, lesle:
To some, they rise more early; and they fall
More late to others, giving day to all:
Some soyle's more grosse, and breathing more impure
And earthy vapours forth, whose foggs obscure
The darkned Medium of the moister aire;
Whilst other Soiles, more perfect, yield more rare
And purer Fumes; whereby, those Beames appeare,
To some, lesse glorious; and to some, more cleare:
It would be ever Day; Day, alwayes bright,
Did not our interposed Earth make night:
The Sun shines alwaies strenuous and faire,
But, ah, our sins, our Clouds benight the ayre:
Lord, drayne the Fenns of this my Boggy soule,
Whose grosser vapours make my day so foule;
Thy Son hath strength enough to chase away
These rising Foggs, and make a glorious Day:
Rise, and shine alwaies cleare; but most of all,
Let me behold thy glory, in thy Fall;
That being sett, poore I (my flesh being hurld
From this) may meet thee, in another world.

26. On a spirituall Fever.

My soule hath had a Fever, a long while;
O, I can neither rellish, nor digest;
My nimble Pulses beat; my veynes doe boile;
I cannot close mine eyes, I cannot rest:
O, for a Surgeon, now, to strike a Vaine!
That, that would lay my Heate, and ease my Paine:
No, no, It is thy Blood, and not my owne,
Thy Blood must cure me, Iesus, or else none.

27. On Davids choise.

Famine ? the Sword? the Pest'lence? which is least,
When all are great? which worst, when bad's the best?
It is a point of Mercy, yet, to give
A choice of death to such, as must not live:
But was the choise so hard? It seemes to me,
There was a worse, and better of the three,
Though all extreame: Me thinks, the help of hands
Might swage the first; The bread of forraine lands
Might patch their lives, & make some slender shift
To save a while, with necessary thrift:
Me thinks, the second should be lesse extreame
Then that; Alas! poore Israel could not dreame
Of too much peace, that had so oft division
Among themselves, and forrain opposition:
Besides, their King was martiall; his acts glorious;
His heart was valiant, and his hand victorious;
Me thinks a Conquerour, a Man oth' sword
Should nere be puzzeld at so poore a word:
In both, however, David, at the worst,
Might well presume he should not die the first.
But ô, the Plague's impartiall; It respects
No quality of Person, Age, nor Sex:
The Royall brest's as open to her hand
As is the loosest Pesant in the land:
Famin? the Sword? the Pest'lence? David free,
To take his choice? and pick the worst of three?
He that gave David power to refuse,
Instructed David, in the Art to chuse;
He knew, no forrain Kingdōe could afford
Supply, where God makes Dearth: He knew the Sword
Would want an arm; the arm would want her skill;
And skill, successe, where heav'n prepares to kill:
He knew, there was no trust, no safe recourse
To Martiall man, or to his warlike horse;
But it is Thou, Great God, the only close
Of his best thoughts, and the secure repose
Of all his trust; He yields to kisse thy Rod;
Israel was thine, and thou art Israels God:
He knew thy gratious wont, thy wonted Grace;
He knew, thy Mercy tooke the upper place
Of all thy Attributes; T'was no adventure
To cast himselfe on Thee, the only Center
Of all his hopes; Thy David knew the danger
To fall toth'hands of man; or frend, or stranger:
Thus Davids filiall hopes, being anchor'd fast
On Gods knowne Mercy, wisely chose the last:
If thou wilt give me Davids heart, Ile voyce,
Great God, with David; and make Davids choyce:
But stay; deare Lord, my tongue's too bold, too free,
To speake of choyce, that merits all the Three.

28. On Mans unequall division.

Lord, 'tis a common course; w'are apt and free
To take the Best, and share the worst to Thee:
We Fleet the Mornings for our owne Designe;
Perchance, the Flotten Afternoones are thine:
Thou giv'st vs Silke; we offer Cammills-hayre;
Thy blessings march ith' Front; our thanks, ith' Reare.

29. On Beggers.

No wonder that such swarmes of Beggers lurke
In every street: 'Tis a worse trade to worke
Then begge: Yet some, if they can make but shift
To live, will thinke it scorne to thrive by gift:
'Tis a brave mind; but yet no wise fore-cast;
It is but Pride, and Pride will stoope at last;
We all are Beggers; should be so, at least;
Alas! we cannot worke: The very best
Our hands can doe, will not maintaine to live;
We can but hold them up, whilst others give:
No shame for helples Man, to pray in aid;
Great Sol'mon scornd not to be free o'th' Trade;
He begg'd an Almes and blusht not; For the Boone
He got, was treble fairer then his Crowne:
No wonder that he thriv'd by begging, so;
He was both Begger and a Chuser too:
O who would trust to Worke, that may obtaine
The Suit he beggs, without or sweat, or paine!
O what a priviledge, Great God, have we,
That have the Honour, but to begge on thee!
Thou dost not fright us with the tort'ring Whips
Of Bedels; nor dost answere our faint lips
With churlish language; Lord, thou dost not praise
The stricter Statute of last Henryes dayes:
Thou dost not dampe us with the empty voyce
Of Nothing for yee: If our clam'rous noyse
Should chance t'importune, turn'st thy gracious eye
Vpon our wants, and mak'st a quick supply:
Thou dost not brand us with th'opprobrious name
Of idle vagabonds: Thou know'st w'are lame,
And cannot worke; Thou dost not, Pharo-like,
Deny us Straw, and yet requier Brick:
Thou canst not heare us grone beneath our Taske,
But freely giv'st, what we have Faith to aske:
The most, for which my large desire shall plead,
To serve the present's but a Loafe of Bread,
Or but a Token (ev'n as Beggers use;)
That, of thy love, will fill my slender Cruse:
Lord, during life, Ile begge no greater Boone,
If at my Death, thou'lt give me but a Crowne.

30. On the two Children.

My Flesh and Spirit, Lord, are like those payre
Of Infants, whose sad Mothers did repayre
To Iustice: T'one is quick; the other dead:
The two promiscuous Parents that doe plead
For the live Childe, is Thee and Sathan, Lord:
Both claime alike; Iustice cals forth the Sword,
And seeing both, with equall teares, complaine,
Proffers to cleave the Children both in twaine;
And make them equall sharers in the same
That both doe challenge, and what both disclaime:
Sathan applaudes the motion, and replyde;
Nor thine, nor mine, but let them both divide;
And give alike to both: But thou, deare Lord,
Dislik'st the Iustice of th'unequall Sword:
Rather then share it dead, thou leav'st to strive,
And wilt not own't at all, if not alive:
The Sword's put vp, and straight condemnes the other
To be the false; calls Thee, the nat'rall Mother:
Lord of my Soule; It is but Sathans wilde,
To cheate thy bosome of thy living Childe;
Hee'd have the Question by the Sword decided,
Knowing the Soule's but dead, if once divided:
My better part is thine, and thine alone;
Take thou the Flesh, and let him gnaw the Bone.

31. On two Mysteries.

A perfect Virgin, to bring forth a Son!
One, three entyre; and Three, entirely One!
Wonder of Wonders! How might all this come?
We must be deafe, when th'holy Spirit's dumb:
Spare to enquire it: Thou shalt never know,
Till Heav'n dissolve, and the last Trump shall blow.

32. A forme of Prayer.

If thou wouldst learne, not knowing how, to pray,
Adde but a Faith, and say as Beggers say;
Master, I'm poore, and blinde, in great distresse;
Hungry and lame, and cold, and comfortlesse:
O, succour him, that's graveld on the Shelf
Of payne, and want, and cannot help himself;
Cast downe thine eye upon a wretch, and take
Some pitty on me for sweet Iesus sake:
But hold! Take heed this Clause be not put in;
I never begg'd before, nor will agin:
Note this withall, That Beggers move their plaints
At all times Ore tenus, not by Saints.

23. On Solomon and the Queene of Sheba .

It spreds: The sweet perfume of Salomons Fame
Affects the Coasts; And his illustrious name
Cannot be hid: The vnbeliev'd report
Must flye with Eagles wings, to th'honourd Court
Of princely Sheba: Sheba must not rest,
Vntill her eye become th'invited Guest
Of Fames loud Trumpet; her impatience strives
With light-foot Time, while her Ambition drives
Her Chariot wheeles, and gives an ayry passage
To'th' quick deliv'ry of her hearts Embassage:
True wisdome planted in the hearts of Kings,
Needs no more glory then the glory' it brings;
And, like the Sun, is viewd by her owne light,
B'ing, by her owne reflection, made more bright:
The emulous Queen's arriv'd; Shee's gon toth' Court;
No eye-delighting Masque? no Princely Sport,
To entertaine her? No, her eye, her eare
Is taken up, and scornes to see, to heare
Inferiour things: Sh'allowes her eare, her eye
No lesse then Oracles, and Maiestie:
How empty, pastimes doe resolve and flye
To their true nothing, when true wisedome's by!
Th'arrived Queene has Audience; moves; disputes;
Wise Solomon attends; replyes; confutes;
Sh'objects; he answeres; She afresh propounds;
She proves; maintaines it; he decides; confounds:
She smiles; she wonders; being overdaz'd
With his bright beams, stands silent; stands amaz'd:
How Scripture-like Apocrypha's appeare
To common Books! how poore, when Scripture's neare!
The Queene is pleas'd, who never yet did know
The blast of Fame, lesse prodigall, then now;
For now, the greatest part of what she knew
By Fame, is found the least of what is true;
We often find, that Fame, in prime of youth,
Does adde to Falshood, and subtract from Truth:
The thankfull Queene do's, with a lib'rall hand,
Present him with the Riches of her Land:
Where Wisedome goes before, we often finde
That temp'rall Blessings seldome stay behinde:
Lord, grant me wisedome; and I shall possesse
Enough; have more, or have content with lesse.

33. On Rehoboam .

Could dying Parents, at their peacefull death,
Make but a firme Assurance, or bequeath
Their living Vertues; Could they recommend
Their wisedome to their heyrs; Could hearts descend
Vpon the bosome of succeeding Sons,
As well as Scepters doe; as well as Thrones;
Sure Rehoboams Reigne had found increase
Of Love and Honour, and had dyed in peace:
Kingdomes are transitory: Scepters goe
Frō hand, to hand; and Crownes, frō brow, to brow;
But Wisedome marches on another guize:
They'r two things, to be Worldly-great, and wise;
It was the selfe-same Scepter that came downe
From Solomon to thee: The selfe same Crowne,
That did enclose his Princely browes, and thine;
The selfe same flesh and blood, the next o'th' Line;
The selfe-same people were alive, to blesse
Thy prosp'rous dayes; But not the same successe:
Where rests the fault? what secret mischiefe can
Yn. same thy peace? 'Twas not the selfe same Man.

34. On the Prophet slaine by a Lyon.

Twas not for malice; not for want of Food,
The obvious Lyon shed this Prophets blood:
Where faithlesse man neglects the sacred Law
Of God; there, beasts abate their servile awe
To man: When Man dares take a dispensation,
By sin, to frustrate th'end of Mans Creation,
The Beasts, oft-times, by mans Example, doe
Renounce the end of their Creation too:
The Prophet must abstaine: He was forbid;
He must not eate: And yet the Prophet did:
Th'obedient Lyon had command to shed
That Prophets Blood: and see, the Prophet's dead:
O, how corrupt's the nature of Mans Will,
That breaks those Lawes which very Beasts fulfill!

35. On Ahab.

How Ahab longs! Ahab must be possest
Of Naboths Vineyard, or can find no rest:
His tongue must second his unlawfull eye:
Ahab must sue: and Naboth must denye:
Ahab growes sullen; he can eat no Bread;
His Body prostrates on his restlesse Bed:
Vnlawfull Lust immoderate often brings
A loathing in the use of lawfull things:
Ahabs desier must not be with-stood,
It must be purchas'd, though with Naboths Blood;
Witnesse must be suborn'd: Naboth must lie
Open to Law; must be condemn'd; and dye:
His Goods must be confiscate to the Crowne;
Now Ahab's pleas'd; The Vineyard's now his owne:
Vnlawfull Pleasures, when they jostle further
Then ordinary bounds, oft end in murther.
Me thinkes, the Grapes that cluster from that Vine,
Should (being prest) afford more blood then wine.

36. On Rehoboam .

People have Balances; wherein to weigh
Their new-crown'd Princes; which can soon bewray
Their native worth: Some counterpoyse th'allow:
Vnhappy Israel had not weights enow,
To weigh thy Fingers: Heads can never rest
In peace, when their poore members are opprest:
Had thy unlucky Fingers weigh'd no more
Then thy light Iudgement; had thy Iudgement bore
But halfe the burthen of thy Fingers weight,
Thou hadst bin prosp'rous, both in Crowne, & State:
The Lyon's knowne by's Paw; The people spends
Their Iudgement of a Prince by's Fingers ends.

37. On leprous Naaman .

The Leper, prompted with his lothsome griefe,
Seekes to the King of Israel for reliefe:
But Naamans vayne desiers could not thrive;
Isrel's no God; to kill, or make alive:
The Morall Man is of too meane a Stature,
To reach his hand above the head of Nature:
The willing Prophet undertakes the Cure;
The Leper must goe wash, and be secure
From his Disease: He must goe paddle straight,
In Iordan's water: 'Tis a faire Receipt:
And why in Iordan? Have our Syrian streames
Lesse pow'r then Isr'els? sure the Prophet dreames:
How hard it is for Mortals to rely
On Faith! How apt is sense, to question, why?
The Cure perplexes more then the Disease;
Prophets prescribe no better meanes then these?
I lookd his Ceremonious hand should stroke
The place; I look'd the Prophet should invoke:
Some men would faine be cleane, if God would stay
Their times, or would but cure them their owne way:
The techy Leper is displeas'd; hee'l hence:
The Iordan Prophet dallyes against sense:
His wiser servants urge their hasty Lord
To Iordan's streames: He washes; is restor'd:
How good a God have we, whose grace fulfils
Our choyce desires oft-times against our wills!
The Lepers clens'd; And now he dos applaud
Not Isr'els streames alone, but Isr'els God:
The Prophet must have thanks, and Gold beside;
The thanks are taken, but the Gold's deny'd:
Who would not deale with Thee, that art not nice,
To sell such Pen'worths at so small a price!
Naaman, in lieu of his refus'd reward,
Vowes the true God; provided, when his Lord
Shall serve ith house of Rimmon, if he bow
For fashion-sake, he may secure his Vow:
Some will not stick to lend their God a house,
Might they reserve one roome for their owne use:
Gehazi thinks the Cure too cheape; He soone
Oretakes the Lepers Chariot, asks a Boone
I'th' Prophets name: But marke what did befall;
He got his Boone; but got his plague withall:
Vnlawfull gaines are least what they appeare,
And ill got Gold is alwayes bought too deare:
Lord, I did wash in Iordan, and was cur'd;
My Flesh, that false Gehazi, hath procur'd
A sinfull purchase, having over-run
The clensed Naaman of my Soule: What's done
By false Gehazi, let Gehazi beare;
Let Naamans Leprosie alone stick there;
O, clense them both, or if that may not be,
Lord, strike Gehazi; and keepe Naaman free.

38. On Chamber-Christians.

No matter whether (some there be that say)
Or goe to Church, or stay at home, if pray:
Smiths dainty Sermons have, in plenty, stor'd me
With better stuffe, then Pulpits can afford me:
Tell me, why pray'st thou? Heav'n commanded so:
Art not commanded to his Temples to?
Smal store of manners! when thy Prince bids Come,
And feast at Court; to say, I've meat at home.

39. On the Widowes Cruse.

Lord, I'm in debt, and have not wherewithall
To pay: My score is great; my wealth but small;
My house is poorely furnisht, and my Food
Is slender; I have nothing that is good:
Lord, if my wasted Fortunes prove no better,
My Debt is ev'n as desp'rate as the Detter:
All the reliefe thy servant this long while,
Hath had, is but a little Cruse of Oyle;
There's none will give of Almes: I neither get
Enough to satisfie my wants, nor debt:
Lord, if thee please to show the selfe same Art
Vpon the slender vessell of my Heart,
Thy Prophet did, upon the Widowes Cruse,
I shall have Oyle to sell, have Oyle to vse;
So shall my Debt be paid, and I go free;
No Debt is desp'rate, in respect of Thee.

40. On the swimming Axe.

The borrow'd Axe fell in: 'Twas lost; lamented;
The Prophet moov'd; the Workman discontented;
A Stick hewne downe; and by the Prophets hand,
Throwne in; The Axe did float, and came aland:
And why a Stick? Had that the pow'r to call
The massy Iron up? Sure, none at all:
Moses must use his Rod; Moses, I doubt it,
Had beene but lame, but impotent without it;
Nor could that Rod have scourged Pharoes Land,
Had it beene waved by an other hand:
God often works by meanes, and yet not so,
But that he can, as well without them, too.
God can save Man without the help of Man,
But will not; Wils not alwayes what he can:
Something is left for us: we must not lye
Ith' ditch, and cry, And if we dye we dye:
We must not lye like Blocks, relying on
The workmans Axe; There's something must be done:
The workmans Axe perchance had never bin
Recald againe, if not the sticke throwne in:
We must be doing, yet those Deeds, as our,
Have no more native vertue, nay, lesse power
To save us, then that sticke had, to recall
The Axe from the deepe bottome of his Fall:
I will be doing; but repose in Him;
Throw I in sticks, hee'l make my Iron swim.

41. On Baals Preists.

Iehu's crown'd King; Iehu the King must fall
To Ahabs God: Iehu must worship Baal:
The gods-divided people must goe call
Baals sacred Preists: Iehu must worship Baal:
None must be left behind; They must come all;
Iehu must burne a Sacrifice to Baal:
The Priests come puffing in; both great and small,
Must wait on Iehu that must worship Baal:
Baals house is fill'd and crouded to the wall
With people, that are come to worship Baal:
What must there now be done? what Offring shall
Perfume Baals nostrils? ev'n the Preists of Baal:
Baals holy Temple's now become a Stall
Of Preistly flesh; of fleshly Priests for Baal;
How would our Gospell flourish, if that all
Princes, like Iehu, would but worship Baal!

42. On the Tempter.

How dares thy Bandog, Lord, presume t'approch
Into thy sacred presence? or incroach
Vpon thy choyce possessions, to devoure
Thy sporting Lambs? To counterfeit thy pow'r,
And to usurpe thy Kingdome, ev'n as He
Were, Lord, at least, a Substitute to Thee?
Why dost not rate him? why does he obtaine
Such favour to have liberty' of his Chaine?
Have we not Enemies to counterbuffe,
Enow? Is not the Flesh, the World enough
To foyle us? this abroad, and that at home;
But must that Sathan, must that Bandogg come
T'afflict the weake, and take the stronger side?
O, are there not enow, enow beside?
Is there not odds enough, when we have none
But mighty Foes; nay, Rebels of our owne,
Beneath a false disguise of love and peace,
That still betray vs? Are not these, all these
Sufficient, to encounter and o'rethrow
Poore sinfull Man; but must that Bandogg too,
Assault us, Lord? We dare not cast our eyes
Our timerous eyes to Heav'n, we dare not rise
From off our aking knees, to plead our case,
When he can commune with thee face to face;
Nay more, were it but possible to doe,
Would draw thee, Lord, to his bold Faction too.
Lord, lend me but thy power to resist
What Foes thou sendst, & send what Foes thou list:
It is thy Battaile: If thou please to warme
My blood, and find the strength, Ile find the Arme;
March thou i'th' Front; Ile follow in the Reare;
Come then ten thousand Bandogs, Ile not feare.

43. On a Cypher.

Cyphers to Cyphers added, seeme to come
(With those that know not Art) to a great sum:
But such as skill in Numeration, know,
That worlds of Cyphers, are but worlds of show:
We stand those Cyphers, ere since Adams fall;
We are but show; we are no summe at all:
Our bosome-pleasures, and delights, that doe
Appeare so glorious, are but Cyphers too:
High-prized honour; Friends; This house; The tother,
Are but one Cypher added to another:
Reckon by rules of Art, and tell me, than,
How great is thy Estate, Ingenious Man?
Lord, be my Figure, Then it shall be knowne
That I am Somthing: Nothing, if alone:
I care not in what place, in what degree;
I doe not weigh how small my Figure be:
But as I am, I have nor worth, nor vigure:
I am thy Cypher; O, be thou my Figure.

44. On Haman and Mordecay .

The King wold fain take rest; But thought denies
To pay her nightly Tribute to his eyes:
The Persian Cronicle must be brought, to set
His eyes in quiet, till they'r payd the debt:
He turnes the leaves; The first he lights upon,
Is the true service Mordecay had done:
Heav'n often works his ends, at such a season,
When Man has will to banish sense, and Reason:
His loyall service must be now recall'd
To blest remembrance: Haman must be call'd
To Councell; question'd, but not know the thing,
The King intends; He must advise the King,
What Ceremony must be us'd, what Cost,
What Honor, where the King shall honor most?
Observe but in the Progresse of this Story,
How God turnes Factor for his Servants glory:
Haman perswaded that such honour can
Fit none but him; nere questions, Who's the Man?
His more ambitious thoughts are now providing
A Horse of State, for his owne Princely riding;
In briefe; his Iudgement is, That such a One,
Must lack no Honor, but the Royall Throne:
How apt is Man to flatter his owne heart!
How faire a Debter to his false desert!
The royall Horse is ready, all things fit,
That could be broach'd by a vain-glorious witt:
Haman expects his answere; His Ambition
Spurrs on, wants nothing but his large Commission:
Haman must haste with all the speed he can,
And see it done: But Mordecay's the Man:
God often crownes his Servants at their Cost,
That hate their persons, and disdaine them most:
Lord, if thou please to make me but thine owne,
I shall have Honour, spight of Honours frowne.

45. On Iobs Temptations.

God questions Sathan: Boasts his Iobs desert,
In the perfection of a Simple Heart:
Iobs Faith was fervent; Sathan was as chill
To yeeld it; but must yeeld against his will;
Condemnes it to be Servile, to be bought
With Gods own coyne: Dos Iob serve God for nought?
It is a common trick, the Tempter uses,
The Faith he cannot conquer, he abuses:
Alas, that Faith requires not so much praise,
'Tis a good Faith, as Faiths goe now adayes:
Is it not strengthen'd by thy' indulgent hand,
That blest his Labours, and inricht his Land?
Puffe out the Fire, his Faith will quickly chill:
Sathan puffe thou; nay Sathan puffe thy will:
Nor Ebbe nor Floud of small, or great estate,
Are certaine Badges of Gods love, or Hate:
What's now to doe? Poore Iob must be bereaven
Of all his stronger Herds; Fire, sent from Heaven,
Must burne his fruitfull Flocks, that none remaine;
His houses fall; and all his Children slaine;
And yet not curse? Alas, poore Iob adresses
His thoughts to heav'n; he worships God & blesses:
The lively Faith that can retaine her God,
May groane; but seldome rave beneath the Rod.
But what sayes Sathan now? The hedge is broke,
That fenc'd my Servant Iob: What further Cloke
For his uprightnesse hath he? what pretence
For his continued Love and Innocence?
Has not thy malice had her owne desire?
'Twas soundly puff'd; thy Puffs have blown the fire:
Gods Tryals are like Bellows: Sathan's Blower,
Blowes out false Faiths, makes true ones blaze the more.
True Lord; His Faith is tough: But Snailes as well
Can thrive without, as live within their Shell:
To save a life who would not lose some skin?
Touch but his Hornes, O how hee'l draw them in!
Sathan I give thy malice leave, be free
To peele the Barke, but spare to touch the Tree:
Feare not ye little Flock: The greatest ill
Your Foes can doe's to scratch; They cannot kill.
What now's th'exployt? Afflicted Iob does lye,
A very Hospitall of misery:
I thinke, that all the Vlcers that have bin
In Egypt cur'd, are broken out agin
In his distempered Flesh; yet Iob is still
The very same, nor charg'd his God with ill:
A Faith that lodges in a double Brest,
May stand the touch; None but true Faiths, the Test:
If these be Flames poore man must swelter in,
He needs a World a patience, not to sin.

46. On bauling Curres.

I feard the world and I were too acquainted;
I hope my feares are, like her Ioyes, but painted:
Had I not bin a Stranger, as I past,
Her bauling Curres had never barkd so fast.

47. On David .

Stands it with State, that Princely David, who
Did weare the Crown, should play the Harper too?
He playes and sings; His glory nere disdaines
To dance, and to receive a Crowne for's paines:
Tis no disparagement, 'tis no misprision
Of State, to play before the Great Musition.

48. On Abraham .

The word is out: Poore Abr'am must be gon;
Must take his Isaak; take his onely Son;
The Son of his Affection; him, from whom,
From whose blest loynes so many Kings must come:
Ev'n him must Abr'am slay, Abr'am must rise,
And offer Isaac a burnt Sacrifice.
God scornes the Offals of our faint desires;
He gives the best, and hee the best requires.
Abr'am forbeares to question; thinks not good
To reason, to advise with Flesh and Blood;
Begs not young Isaacks life, nor goes about
T'object the Law of Murther; makes no doubt:
He rises, rises early; leads his Son;
Hasts where this holy Slaughter must be done:
Where God bids Goe; that very Breath's a Warrant;
We must not linger there: Haste crownes the Arrant.
His Servants must no further: They must stay;
Private Devotion claimes a private way:
They must abide with th' Asse, whilst th'aged Syre
In t'one hand takes the knife; in t'other, Fire:
The sacred Wood of Offring must be pil'd
On the young shoulders of th'obedient Childe:
O here mine eye must spend a teare, to see
Thee beare that Wood, great God, that, since, bore Thee:
Mistrustles Isaac seeing the wood, the fire,
The sacrificing Knife, begins t'enquire,
But where's the Sacred Lamb, that must be slaine?
Resolved Abra'm lest the flesh should gaine
Too much of Nature) sayes not, Thou my Son
Art he; but, The Almighty will provide us One:
Where God commands, 'tis not enough t'effect,
But we must baulk th'occasion of neglect.
The faithfull Abra'm now erects an Alter;
Orders the wood: what tongue can chuse but falter,
To tell the rest? He layes his hand upon
His wondring Isaac; binds his only Son;
He layes him downe; vnsheath's his Priestly knife;
Vp-heaves his arme, to take his Isaacks life:
True Faith is active: Covets to proceed
From thought to action; and from will to deed:
Before the strengthned stroke had time to fall,
A Sudden voyce from Heav'n cryes hold; Recall
Thy threatning Arme, and sheath thy holy Knife,
Thy Faith has answer'd for thy Isaac's life;
Touch not the Childe; thy Faith is throughly showne,
That has not spar'd thine owne, thine only Son:
How easie is our God, and liberall, who
Counts it as don, what we have will to doe!

49. On Censorio .

Censorio takes in hand, by sharp reproofe,
To mend his Brothers error, and to snuffe
His darkned Flame; and yet Censorio's crimes
Are rankt among the foulest of the Times:
Let none presume, Censorio, to controule
Or top the dim light of anothers Soule,
If not more pure then him, that is controll'd:
The Temple-Snuffers must be perfect Gold.

50. On Mordecay and Haman .

Two Steeds appointed were by Hamans hand,
The one at Grasse; The other Steed did stand
In Persia's Mues: The former was providing
For Mordecay; the last for Hamans riding:
But since, in order, last things prove the worst,
Hamans ambition drove him to the First:
But see, proud Hamans prouder Steed did cast
His glorious rider, whilest the Iew sits fast:
What matter Haman? Fortune, though no Friend
Of thine, first brought thee to thy Iourneyes end.

41. On three Fooles.

The Wiseman sayes, It is a Wise-mans part,
To keepe his tongue close pris'ner in his heart;
If he be then a Foole, whose thought denies
There is a God, how desp'rately unwise,
How more then Foole is he, whose language shall
Proclaime in publike, There's no God at all!
What then are they, nay Fooles, in what degree,
Whose Actions shall maintain't? Such Fooles are we.

52. On miserable man.

Adam , the highest pitch of perfect nature,
And lively image of his great Creator,
Declin'd his God; and, by one sinfull Deed,
Destroy'd himselfe, and ruin'd all his seed:
How wretched, then, how desp'rate's our Condition,
Whose ev'ry minute makes a repetition
Of greater sins, against both light of Nature,
And Grace, against Creation and Creator!
Alas! we claime not by descent, alone,
But add by hourely purchase of our owne:
There is no breach of Loyalty, no sin
We are imperfect, and unpractis'd in;
Shall not a world of Sins bring ruine, then,
To One; when one Sin slew a world of men?

53. On Mans two enemies.

Two potent Enemies attend on Man:
T'one's fat and plump; The other leane and wan;
T'one faunes and smiles; The other weepes as fast;
The first Presumption is; Despaire, the last:
That feeds upon the bounty of full Treasure;
Brings iolly newes of Peace, and lasting pleasure:
This feeds on want, unapt to entertaine
Gods Blessings: Finds them ever in the waine:
Their Maximes disagree; But their Conclusion
Is the selfe same: Both jump in Mans Confusion:
Lord, keepe me from the first, or else, I shall
Sore up and melt my waxen wings, and fall:
Lord, keepe the second from me; lest I, then,
Sinke downe so low, I never rise agen:
Teach me to know my selfe, and what I am,
And my Presumption will be turnd to shame:
Give me true Faith, to know thy dying Son,
What Ground has then Despaire to worke upon?
T'avoid my shipwrack upon either Shelfe,
O, teach me, Lord, to know my God; my selfe.

54. On Queene Ester .

Illustrious Princesse, had thy chance not beene,
To be a Captive, thou hadst bin no Queene:
Such is the Fortune, our Misfortune brings;
Had we not first bin Slaves, w'ad nere beene Kings.

55. On Slanders.

Have sland'rous tongues bin busie to defame
The pretious Oyntment of my better name?
Or hath censorious basenesse gone about
With her rude blast to puffe my Taper out?
They have. And let their full mouthd bellowes puffe;
It is their Breath that stinks, and not my Snuffe:
I, let them snarle and burst, that I may smile;
Doe, let them jerk, and I will laugh the while:
They cannot strike beyond my patience; No,
Ile beare, and take it for an Honour too;
The height that my Ambition shall flye,
Is only to deserve their Calumny:
O, what a Iudgement 'twere, if such as they
Should but allow my Actions, and betray
My'endangered name, by their maligne applause,
To good Opinion, That were a just Cause
Of Griefe indeed! but to be made the Story
Of such base tongues, it is my Crowne, my Glory:
I, let them spend their Dust against the winde,
And bark against the Moone, till they be blind,
And weary; Let their malice not forbeare
To baule at Innocence, to wound and teare
An absent name, whilst their unhallowed tongues
Make me a glorious Martyr in their wrongs:
I beg no Favour; Nay, my hearts desire
Is still to be calcin'd by such a Fyre;
That, in conclusion, all men may behold
A faire gilt Counter, from a Crowne of Gold.
Great God, I care not this, how foule I seeme
To Man; may I be faire in thy esteeme:
It matters not how light I seeme to be
To the base world, so I be weight to Thee.

56. On Nabvchadnezzer .

VVhat lucklesse Accident hath bred such ods
Betwixt great Babels Monarch, and his Gods,
That they so oft disturbe him, and affright
His broken slumbers with the Dreames of night!
Alas, what hath this Princely Dreamer done,
That he must quit the Glory of his Throne,
His Royall Scepter, his Imperiall Crowne?
Must bee expeld his Honour, and come downe
Below the meanest Slave, and, for a Season,
Be banisht from the use, the Act of Reason?
Must be exil'd from humane shape, and chew
The cudde, and must be moistned with the dew
Of heav'n; nay, differ in no other thing
From the bruit beast, but that he was a King:
What ayle thy Gods, that they are turn'd so rough,
So full of rage? what, had they meat enough
To fill their golden Stomacks? Was thy knee
Bent oft enough? what might the reason be?
Alas, poore harmelesse things! it was not they;
'Twas not their wills: I dare be bold to say,
They knew it not: It was not they that did it;
They had no pow'r to act, or to forbid it:
Deserv'dst thou not, Great King, the stile of Beast,
To serve such Gods, whose Deities can digest
Their servants open wrongs? that could dispense
With what they'endure without the least offence?
Illustrious Beast, methinks thy better'd state
Has no great reason to complaine of Fate:
Thou art more neere to him thou didst adore,
By one degree, then ere thou wert before:
'Tis some promotion; That there is lesse ods
Betwixt thy Nature, and thy senslesse Gods.

57. On Partio .

Hast thou forsaken all thy Sinnes, but One?
Beleeve it, Partio; Th'ast forsaken None.

58. On Ignorance.

The greatest Friend Religion hath t'advance
Her glory's unaffected Ignorance:
The burning Taper lends the fairest light,
And shines most glorious, in the shades of night.

59. On a great Battaile.

When my rebellious Flesh doth disagree
With my resisting Spirit; me thinks, I see
Two mighty Princes draw into the Field,
Where one must win the Day; the other, yeeld:
They both prepare; Both strike up their Alarmes;
Both march; Both well appointed in their Armes;
They both advance their Banners: T'one displayes
A bloody Crosse: The other Colours blaze
A Globe terrestriall: Nature carries one;
And Grace, the other: Each by's Ensigne's knowne:
They meet; encounter; blowes exchange for blowes;
Dart is returnd for Dart: They grapple; Close;
Their Fortune's hurryed with unequall Sailes;
Somtimes the Crosse; somtimes, the Globe prevailes.
We are that Field; And they that strive to win us,
Are God and Sathan; Those, that warre within vs,
The Flesh the Spirit: No parting of the Fray,
Till one shall win; the other, lose the Day:
My God, O weaken this rebellious Flesh,
That dares oppose: O, quicken and refresh
My dull and coward Spirit, that would yeeld,
And make proud Sathan Master of the Field:
Deare Lord, the Field's thy own; thou thoughtst it good
To purchas't with my dying Saviours Blood:
'Tis thine, Great God, by title, and by right;
Why shouldst thou question, what's thy owne, by fight?
Lord, keepe possession thou, and let th'accurst
And base Vsurper doe his best, his worst.

60. On the World.

The World's an Inne; and I, her Guest;
I eate; I drinke; I take my Rest:
My Hostesse Nature, do's deny me
Nothing, wherewith she can supply me:
Where, having stayd a while, I pay
Her lavish Bills, and goe my way.

61. On the Sabbath.

Away my thoughts: Away my words, my deeds;
Away, what ever nourishes and feeds
My frayle delights: Presume not to approach
Into my presence; dare not once t'encroach
Vpon the hallowed Temple of my Soule;
Ye are not for this Day; y'are all too foule:
Abide yee with the Asse, till I goe yonder,
And cleave the Isaac of my heart in sunder:
I must goe sacrifice: I must goe pay,
I must performe my holy vowes, to day:
Tempt not my tender Frailty: I enjoyne
Your needfull absence; y'are no longer mine:
But if it may not be, that we must sever
Our yoakt affections, and not part for ever;
Yet give me leave, without offence, to borrow,
At least, this day, although we meet to morrow.

62. On Prayer.

In all our Prayres, th'Almighty do's regard
The Iudgement of the Ballance, not the Yeard:
He loves not Words, but Matter; 'Tis his pleasure
To buy his Wares by Weight, and not by Measure.

63. On Fido .

Findst thou no comfort on this fickle Earth?
No Ioy at all? No Obiect for thy Mirth?
Nothing but Sorrow? Nothing else, but toyle?
What, doe thy dayes shew nothing, worth a smile?
Doe worldly pleasures no contentment give?
Content thee, Fido, Th'ast not long to live.

64. On Charissa .

Woldst thou, Charissa, wish thy fortunes better,
Then, by thy act, to make thy God thy Detter?
Ile teach thee how to doe't: Relieve the poore;
And thou mayst safely set it on Gods Score.

65. On Raymond Sebvnd .

I wonder, Raymond, thy illustrious Witt,
Strengthned with so much learning, could cōmit
So great a Folly, as to goe about,
By Natures feeble light, to blazon out
Such Hea'vn-bred Mist'ryes, which the hearts of Men
Cannot conceiue, much lesse the darkned Pen
Expresse; such secrets, at whose depth, the Quire
Of blessed Angels tremble, and admire:
Could thy vaine-glory lend no easier taske
To thy sublime Attempt, then to vnmaske
The glorious Trinity, whose Triune face
Was ne're discovered by the eye of Grace,
Much lesse by th'eye of Nature, being a story
Objected only to the Eye of Glory?
Put out thy light, bold Raymond, and be wise;
Silence thy tongue, and close thy'ambitious eyes:
Such heights as these, are Subjects far more fit
For holy Admiration, then for Witt.

66. On Sinnes.

My Sinnes are like the hayres upon my head,
And raise their Audit to as high a score;
In this they differ; These doe dayly shed,
But, ah, my sinnes grow dayly more and more:
If, by my Hayres, thou number out my sinnes,
Heav'n make me bald, before that day begins.

67. On the Gospell.

Ovr Gospell thrives the more by forreine Iarrs;
It overcomes in outward opposition:
But O, it suffers still, in Civill Warres,
And loses Honour by a home-division:
If thou assist, I care not, Lord, with whom
I warre abroad, so I have peace at home.

68. On the dayes of Man.

Lord, if our Dayes be few, why doe we spend
And lavish them unto so evill an end?
Lord, if our dayes be evill, why doe we wrong
Our selves, and Thee, to wish our Day so long?
Our dayes decrease; but, still, our evils renew;
Great God, we make them evill; Thou mak'st them few.

69. On Sinnes.

My Sinnes are like the Sands upon the shore;
Which every Ebbe layes open to the Eye:
In this they differ; These are cover'd ore
With ev'ry Flood: My sinnes still open lye:
If thou wilt make mine Eyes a Sea of teares,
O, they will hide the sinnes of all my yeares.

70. On Kain and David .

Their Sins were equall; Equall was their guilt:
They both committed Homicide; Both spilt
Their Brothers guiltles blood: Nay, of the twayne,
The first occasion was lesse foule, in Kain:
'Twas likely Kains Murther was in heate
Of blood; There was no former grudge, no threate:
But Davids was a Plott; He tooke the life
Of poore Vriah, to enjoy his Wife:
Was Iustice equall? Was her Ballance even?
Kain was punisht: David was forgiven:
Both came to tryall: But good David did
Confesse that Sin, which cursed Kain hid:
Kain bewaild the punishment; wherein,
His Sin had plung'd him: David wayles his Sin:
If I lament my sins; Thou wilt forbeare
To punish, Lord; or give me strength, to beare.

71. On Plavsvs .

Plausus , of late, hath rais'd an Hospitall;
Repayr'd a Church; Founded a Colledge-Hall:
Plausus hath built a holy Temple; vow'd it
To God: Erects a Schoole, and has endow'd it:
Plausus hath given, through his abundant pity,
A Spittle to the blind, and lame o'th' City:
Plausus allowes a Table for the poore
O'th' Parish; besides those, he feeds at doore:
Plausus relieves the Prisons; Mends the Wayes;
Maintaines a Lecture, on the Market dayes:
Plausus, in briefe, for bounty beares the Bell;
Plausus has don much Good; But nothing, Well.

72. On Sinnes.

My Sinnes are like the Starres, within the skyes;
In view, in number, ev'n as bright, as great:
In this they differ: These doe set and rise;
But ah, my Sinnes doe rise, but never sett:
Shine Son of glory, and my sins are gon,
Like twinkling Starrs, before the rising Sun.

73. On change of Weathers.

And were it for thy profit, to obtaine
All Sunshine? No vicissitude of Raine?
Thinkst thou, that thy laborious Plough requires
Not Winter frosts, as well as Summer fiers?
There must be both: Somtimes these hearts of ours
Must have the sweet, the seasonable Showres
Of Teares; Sometimes, the Frost of chill despaire
Makes our desired sunshine seeme more faire:
Weathers that most oppose to Flesh and Blood,
Are such as helpe to make our Harvest good:
We may not choose, great God; It is thy Task:
We know not what to have; nor how to ask.

74. On Prosper .

Take heed, thou prosp'rous sinner, how thou liv'st
In Sin, and thriv'st;
Thou, that doest flourish in thy heapes of gold,
And summes vntold;
Thou, that hadst never reason to complaine
Of Crosse, or paine.
Whose unafflicted Conscience never found
Nor Check, nor Wound;
Beleeve it, Prosper, thy deceitfull Lease
Allowes thee neither wealth, nor Ioy, nor Peace:
Thy golden heapes are nothing but the price
Of Paradise;
Thy Flattering pleasures, and thy ayrie Ioyes,
But painted Toyes;
Thy peacefull Conscience is but like a Dogge,
Tyed in a Clogge;
Beleeve it, Prosper, thy deceitfull Lease
Allowes thee neither Wealth, nor Ioy, nor Peace:
Thy heapes of Gold will stand thee in no steed,
At greatest need;
Thy empty Pleasures, will convert thy laughter,
To groanes, hereafter:
Thy silent Conscience, when enlarg'd, will roare,
And rage the more:
Beleeve it, Prosper, thy deceitfull Lease,
Affords the neither Wealth, nor Ioy, not Peace.

75. On the Sight of a Plague bill.

Five thousand in a weeke, in one poore City?
Because it was thy Pleasure, twas no pity;
Why should thou pity vs, Iust God, when we
Could never finde a time to pity thee?
Thou never strik'st without a reason why,
Nor often, then: We easily cast our eye
Vpon the punishment, but blinde toth' sin,
That farre transcends the Iudgement it calls in:
O, if the weekly Bills of our Transgression
Could but appeare, and make as deepe impression
In our sad hearts, to make our hearts but know
As great a sorrow, as our Plague-bills doe;
No doubt, no doubt but Heav'ns avenging hand
Would turne a Stranger to our prosprous Land:
O, if that weekly Catalogue of Sin
Could, with our City Bills, be brought but in,
And be compar'd, wee'd think our Bills not high,
But rather wonder there are men, to dye.

76. On Theaters.

Six dayes were made for work; the seventh, for rest;
I read of none, that Heav'n ordaind for Play:
How have our looser Theaters transgrest
The Decalogue, that make it ev'ry Day:
Me thinks, that they should change their Trade, for shame,
Or honour't with a more laborious name.

77. On Players and Ballad-mongers.

Ovr merry Ballads, and lascivious Playes
Are much alike: To common censure, both
Doe stand or fall: T'one sings; the other sayes;
And both are Fripp'ries of anothers Froth:
In short; They'r Preist and Clark of Belials Altar;
T'one makes the Sermon; T'other tunes the Psalter.

78. On God and the King.

Ovr God and Prince (whom God for ever blesse)
Are both, in Mercy, of a Constitution:
Both slow, till meere necessity shall presse,
To put their penall Lawes in Execution:
And marke, How in a like successe they ioyne;
At both we grumble; and at both, repine.

79. On the life and death of Man.

The life of Man is but th'imperfect Story
Of his Adventure, towards future Glory,
For death to finish: Who will sticke to say,
A glorious Ev'n foretells a glorious Day?

80. On Fox .

There was a time, (wo-worth that heavy time)
When rav'nous Foxes did devoure the prime,
And choyce of all our Lambs: But Heav'n did raise
A more ingenuous Fox, in after dayes,
Whose high immortall Pen redeem'd their breath,
And made those Lambs revive, in spight of death:
To see, how mutuall Saintly Favours be!
Thou gav'st them life, that now give life to thee.

81. On the Booke of Common Prayer.

The Booke of Common Pray'r excels the rest;
For Pray'rs that are most Common are the best.

82. To Mvndano .

VVoldst thou Mundano, prove too great, too strong
For peevish Fortunes angry brow to wrong?
Renounce her power: Banish Fortune hence,
And trust thee to the hands of Providence;
The poorest heart that ever did importune
Heav'ns ayd, is farre above the frownes of Fortune.

83. On Romes Sacrifices.

It cannot be excus'd: It is a wrong
Proceeding from a too-too partiall tongue,
To say, The proser'd service of false Rome
Had no good favor, and did never come
Toth' gates of Heav'n; Fye, Rome's belyde;
For when our Troopes of glorious Martyrs dy'd,
In that warm age, who were their Priests? By whom
Was their blood shed? Was't not by holy Rome?
Such sweet Perfumes, I dare be bold to say,
Rome never burnt before, nor since that day:
A sweeter Incense, save his dying Son,
Heav'n ne're accepted since this World begun,

84. On a dead Man.

It is a common use to entertaine
The knowledge of a great man, by his Trayne:
How great's the dead-man then? There's none that be
So backt with troopes of Followers, as Hee.

85. On corner Sinners.

Svch men are like to Owles; They take delight,
To make the night their day; their day, the night:
They hate the Sun, and love dark corners best;
But they shall houle, when day-birds are at rest.

86. On the Kite.

Mark but the soaring Kite; and she will read
Brave rules for Diet; teach thee how to feed;
She flyes aloft; She spreads her ayrie plumes
Above the reach, above the nautious fumes
Of dang'rous earth; She makes her selfe a stranger
T'inferiour things, and checks at ev'ry danger;
At length, she stoopes; and, with a brave disdaine,
She strikes her prey, and mounts her up againe;
By her example, learne to use the earth,
And thou shalt find lesse mischiefe, and more mirth.

87. On Formio .

Formio bewailes his Sins, with the same heart,
As Frends do Frends, when they'r about to part,
Beleeve it, Formio will not entertaine
A merry thought, untill they meet againe.

88. On bosome sinnes.

How loath is Flesh, to yeild! the Spirit, to win
The glorious Conquest of a Bosome sin!
O, how the'ingenious Flesh will pleade! abuse
The height of Wit, to argue, o excuse:
At length, it yeelds: O, give it leave to stay
A yeare; a moneth; a weeke; at least, a day;
And if not so, yet let my breaking heart
But hugg it once or twise, before we part;
Let me but take my leave, my thoghts shal bind me
From the least touch; let me but looke behind me:
Nay sin, Gehezi-like, will have a blow
At cleansed Namans bounty, ere she goe.

89. On the Eccho.

An Eccho's nothing, but a forc'd rebound,
Or airy repercussion of a Sound,
Proceeding from some hollow place, well knowne
To have no Bulk, no Beeing of her owne:
It is no Substance; nothing, but a Noise;
An empty sound; the picture of a voyce:
Such is my Courtly Friend, At my request,
Hee'l breath his service from his hollow brest,
And Eccho-like for every word that's blowne
Into his eares, returnes me two, for one;
But when they come toth' Test, alas they'r found
More light then Ayre, meere shadowes of a Sound;
Ile trust my God; His bounty still affords
As many deedes, as my false Friends do words.

90. On a Water-Mill.

The formall Christian's like a Watermill:
Vntill the Floodgate's open, he lyes still;
He cannot work at all; he cannot dreame
Of going, till his wheeles shall finde the streame.

91. On Pavl and Apollos .

Tis not, what this man, or what that man saith,
Brings the least stone, toth' building of my faith;
My eare may ramble, but my Conscience followes
No man: I'me neither Pauls, nor yet Apollo's:
When Scripture gold lyes by me, is it just
To take up my Salvation, upon Trust?
My Faith shall be confin'd to no mans Lists;
Ile only follow Paul, as Paul is Christs.

92. On Morvs .

If a poore timerous Hare but crosse the way,
Morus will keepe his chamber, all the day;
What Evill portends it, Morusi? It does show,
That Morus is not wise, for thinking so.
But Morus keepes his Chamber: There will be,
Morus, one Foole the lesse abroad by Thee.

93. On some faiths.

Some Faiths are like those Mills, that cānot grind
Their Corne, vnles they worke against the Wind:

94. On the Temporizer.

He seemes to be a Man of Warre; His sayle
Being fill'd and prosper'd with a foreright Gale,
Makes speedy way; and, with her Keele, divides
The sparkling furrowes of the swelling Tides;
Or if the winde should slacke, or cease to blow,
Can make a shift to Tide it to and fro;
But if it prove a Storme, or the wind crosse,
His wavering Bottom soone begins to tosse
Vpon the troubled waves, without regard
Of either steare, or yet the seamans Card;
His prouder Courage quailes, & the rough weather
Transports his wandring keel, he knows not whither;
Till, after many a ruine-threatning knock,
He's overwhelmd or splitt vpon a Rock.

95. On our sins.

It is an Errour even as foule, to call
Our sins too great for pardon, as too small.

96. On the Hypocrite.

Hee's like a Christmas Candle, whose good name
Crowns his faire actions with a glorious flame;
Burnes cleare and bright, and leaves no ground for doubt
To question, but he stincks at going out;
When Death puffs out his Flame, the snuff will tell
If he were Wax, or Tallow, by the smell.

97. On Secret-mungers.

He, that at Secrets, shall compose his aime,
Is like the Flie that sports about the Flame;
He never leaves to buzze, untill he brings
Himselfe to ruine; or at least, his wings:
And like a desp'rate Fly, though he has bin
Once scorcht, hee'l venture at the Flame agin.

98. On a Flye.

The Sun-delighting Flye repayres, at first,
To the full Cup, only to quench her thirst;
But, oftentimes, she sports about the Brinke,
And sipps so long till she be drownd in drinke:
When wanton leysure shall present thine eye
With lavish Cups, Remember but the Flye.

99. On Scripture and Apocrypha.

When as the Scripture opens to mine eyes,
I see my Lord in's Bed: But when I meet
Th'Apocrypha at th'end, me thinks it lyes,
Like his well countnanc'd Page, at the Beds feet;
Who wears his Lords old Cloths, made lesse; & sayes
His owne Inventions in his Masters Phrase.

100. To my Booke .

Here comes a Criticke; Close thy Page:
Thou art no Subject for this Age:
And censure, oftentimes, yee know,
Will strike the Dove, and spare the Crow:
But hold; Thy Guilt does not require
That thou shouldst lurke, or yet retyre;
Be open as the Eye of Noone:
And let Dogs barke against the Moone:
Thou hast no Luster of thy owne,
But what's deriv'd from Heav'n alone:
Feare not: Thy Heav'n-instructed Page,
Will either please, or teach the Age.