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Ecclesiastes, otherwise called the Preacher

Containing Salomons Sermons or Commentaries (as it may probably be collected) vpon the 49. Psalme of Dauid his father. Compendiously abridged, and also paraphrastically dilated in English poesie, according to the analogie of Scripture, and consent of the most approued writer thereof. Composed by H. L. Gentleman [i.e. Henry Lok]. Whereunto are annexed sundrie Sonets of Christian Passions heretofore printed, and now corrected and augmented, with other affectionate Sonets of a feeling conscience of the same Authors
  
  

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1. Then did I ioy proue at full, which also proued vaine.
2. Mad laughter and short ioy, what ease do ye yeeld to my paine?

1.

I said in mine heart, goe to now, I will proue thee with ioy: therfore take thou pleasure in pleasant things: and behold this also is vanitie.

Thus tired with these studies I repinde,

And in my heart, I said, no more of this:
Now will I try if pleasure I may find,
To cheare my fainting soule in worlds amis:
Perhaps in mirth and ioy is plast true blis,
Let me to counsell, my affections take,
And let them to their likings frolike make.
From reasons bonds, thus set at large awhile,
They ech of them their appetites doe fit,
Each seuerall sense, himselfe seeks to beguile,
And all conspire the wished prise to git,
But (ouer gorg'd) full soone they all do surfit:
For lust complete facietie doth breed,
And vaine the fruite, that growes from such a seed.

2.

I said of laughter, thou art mad: and of ioy, what is this that thou dest?

Then did I first begin indeed to know,

The vanitie of these vnconstant ioyes,
For while the foggie myst of lust doth grow,
As through a cloud, we see it so annoyes
Our purest iudgement, euen with childish toyes:
But then (as safe on shore) the storme I saw,
Whose raging billowes did soules perill draw.
Then cald I laughter a deformed grace,
More fit for fooles, then temp'rate men to try,
Graue maiestie expelling from the face,
And antike wise disguizing men, whereby
As madnesse, I beganne it to defy:
As forced mirth, which no sweet fruit doth bring,
But to relenting soule a poysned sting.