A Fig For Fortune :: :: University of Virginia Library

A Fig For Fortune

A. C. [i.e. by Anthony Copley]

Copley, Anthony (1567-1607?)

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To the Right Honourable Anthonie Browne, L. Vicompt Mont-ague, euerlasting glorie to his vertues.

Flie vale-bred Muse to heauen-high Mont-ague
Honoring thy playnesse with so quaint aspire:
It is a baggard Hawke that neuer knew
The Fawlkoners fist; It is a drowsie fire
That yeelds nor flame nor fume; It is an idle voyce
That nere was hard to tune nor sound, nor note nor noise.
Great Mont-ague; thrise great in Vertues glorie
And therfore dulie great in my affections,
Whom not a Pick-thanke spirit of flatterie
But well aduised zeale to your perfections
Mooues to instile you so: Though likewise so you be
In the sublimitie of your blood and Vicomptie.
Daigne in your grace the spirit of a man
Disastred for vertue; if at least it be
Disaster to be winnowed out Fortunes Fan
Into the Fan of Grace and Sionrie
Wherin repurify'd to Gods eternall glorie
The Deuill rues in man old Adams injurie.
Though meane and merit-lesse the Muse may seeme
To your aduice; as not from Helicon,
Yet well I hope the matter will redeeme
That fraile default, as spirited from Sion:
If Sions holie name be gracious to your eare
Hold it in gree; els for the zeale to you I beare,
At least your happie Names faire liuerie let it weare.

Your Lordsh, humblie at commandement. Anthonie Copley.

A Fig for Fortune

The Argument to the Reader.

An Elizian out-cast of Fortune, ranging on his Iade Melancholie through the Desert of his affliction, in hope to find out some where either ease or end of the same, hapneth first vpon Catoes ghost a spirit of Dispair & self-misdoom which perswades him to kill himselfe: But, for she ended her Oratory with a Sulphur vanish frō out his sight, he misdoubted both her and her tale. Then posting onward through the residue of the night; he next chanceth on the spirit of Reuenge: She perswades him blood and treacherie against all his enemies, as th' onlie means to remount to pristin blesse in despight of Fortune: But she likewise manifesting in the end the treason of her tale by a sudden whip-away from his eye at the sight of break of day in the East, left him also conceipted of her daunger. Thirdly, rapt from off his Melancholie (which now began to faint vnder him at the light of a new day of Grace) he was suddenlie mounted vpon the Steed of Good Desire, and by him brought to Mount-Sion the Temple of Peace; where by Catechtysius an Hermit (who greatlie woondred to see a distressed Elizian in those partes vnder so happie daies of Eliza) he was by him in the house of Deuotion catechized, and there also celestially arm'd by an Angell, and within a while after in-denized by the high Sacrificator a Champion of that Temple against the insults of Fortune; whom I haue titled by the name of Doblessa

in respect of the double danger both of her luring and lowring inconstancie: She, whiles the Sionttes were all in peacefull adoration of Almightie God in the Temple, came with her Babellonian-rout to assault the place, but warest soons by the valure of those Templers shamefullie repulsed: Feast and thankes was made to God therfore throughout all the Region in which solemnitie the Grace of God houering ouer the multitude in the Procession time like a virgin attended vpon with all the Court of heauen, showr'd downe Roses amongst them, leauing them there a scambling for the same. The Elizian was one that scambled his lap-full among the rest: and for he thought it was his soueraigne Ladie Eliza, and those Roses hers, he was suddenly in ioy therof rapt home againe to Elizium.

Vested in sable vale, exild from Ioy,
I rang'd to seeke out a propitious place,
Where I might sit and descant of annoy
And of faire Fortune, altered to disgrace,
At last, euen in the confines of the night
I did discerne aloofe a sparkling light,

Then set I spurres vnto my Melancholie,
A Iade wheron I had ridden many a mile,
Which lesse then in the twinkling of an eye,
Brought me vnto that fatall lights beguile:
Where I might see an agonizing beast,
Bleeding his venym blood out at his brest.

His vpper shape was faire-Angelicall,
The rest belowe, all whollie Serpentine,
Cole blacke incroching vpon his pectorall,
And rudely inrowlled in a Gorgon-twine,
His eyes like Goblins stared heer and there,
In fell disdayne of such disfigured geare.

At last he spi'd me, and staring on my face,
He rear'd his mongrel-lumpe vp towards me,
Fainting and falling in his Deaths-disgrace,
And yet enforcing still more stabbes to die,
Then thus he vauntingly began to tell me
Of such his fortitude in aduersitie.

Welcome deer guest (quoth he) to Catoes Ghost,
Welcome true witnesse of my fortitude,
Seest thou not how this hell-blacke shape almost
Hath quite subdu'd my vpper-albitude?
It is aduersitie vpon my state,
Which see how I reuenge it desperate.

With that, as with a new supplyed flood
The angrie streame beares quite adowne the riuer
All obstacle with vnappeased mood:
So his enraged hand did fierce deliuer
Fresh death-stabbes to his loath'd mortalitie
Euen at the naming of aduersitie.

And then in four-fold misconsorted voice
Of Life and Death: Rage and Disdaine, he added:
Whilom I was a man of Romes rejoyce
Whiles happy Fortune my estate vppropped:
But once when Cæsar ouer-topped all,
Then (loe) this mid-night shape did me befall.

Then gan I to conceipt my Censure-ship,
My Senatorie-pomp, and libertie
All base-subjected to his Tyrant-whip:
My mind was mightie against such miserie,
And rather would I die magnanimous
Then liue to see a Cæsar ouer vs.

It was ynough that the Thessalian fieldes
Suckt vp the mutuall bloud-shed of our men,
That Pompey dies, and all the Empire yeeldes
To Cæsars dauncing Fortune, and Omen:
Cato must die as free from seruitude
As he disdaineth Cæsars altitude.

Yet for my Countrey is a part of me,
And it is all subjected to disgrace,
Loe, that's my serpentine obscuritie
For which I spight, and spit on Cæsars face,
And stab me with a quaint disdaine and anger
Because I will not liue in Cæsars danger.

Thou therefore that doest seem a dolefull wight,
View me the president of Cares redresse,
And if that Fortune be aboue thy might
Yet death is in thy power and readinesse:
Disdaine Misfortune then t'insult vpon thee
Seeing that to die is all so faire and easie.

Death is misfortunes monarchizing foe,
Prime Nature of Almightie fortitud,
Eternall Sanctuarie from vnrest and woe,
Fames Arke and all our frailties Period:
Our lyies true tuchstone, natures offertory,
And bridge to sweet Eliziums eternitie.

And as for base Aduersitie, what is it?
But Gloryes graue, a coward mindes ingalley,
The carrion of our lyfe, suppresse of spirrit,
Shadow of Ioues hate: Disdaines obloquie,
Helles ongate, an Owlish conuersation,
All Ioyes deprife, and sorrowes invndation.

Looke not so downe agast at what I say,
But with a generous erected front,
Number these willing woundes (my hartes defray)
To Glory sole land-ladie of this account:
They are the Tythes I pay to eternall Fame:
There is not any one of them prophane.

Be not injayld to base Aduersitie,
Rather slip out thy life at gloryes windoe,
One stab will send thee to eternity,
And rid thee quite and cleane of all thy woe.
Then there lies life-lesse all Calamity,
Thy name and Spirrit fayre amountes to glory.

It is not as vulgaritie esteemes
Sincere worth to be beblest of Fortune,
A fickle Dame that commonlie misdeemes
Those that her fauours most of all importune.
Blesse thou thy selfe, and if that Fortune curse thee,
Die in despight of her, and her discourt'sie.

Oh what a base ingenerous sight it is,
To see men crooch and pewle at her vaine Altars,
Offring their presents to her peeuishnesse
And there withall, their necks vnto her haltars:
Be thou subsistant of thy selfe alonely,
And if thou canst not liue, yet die with glorie.

Fie on those lowtish growt-head lobbernowlles
That slander Nature with their Modicums,
I tell thee Natur's like to Mary gowldes,
Largely display'd to twentie thousand Sunnes,
Which if they cease to shine in Majestie,
Doe shut themselues and are content to die.

Thy Spirrit is a particle of Ioue,
It scornes indignitie and meane suffize,
Like as a flame, or oyle, it mounts aboue,
And take but Glory from it, and it dies:
Yet dies it not, but to indignitie,
Mounting by Death, to Fames eternitie.

There is no hell like to declined glorie,
Nor is Prometheus Vulture halfe so fell
As the sad memorie of a happie storie
To him, that in aduersitie doeth dwell:
Ah, let him die that is not as he was,
With ending blesse breake he the houre-glasse.

What booteh it to liue in base contempt
In euer melancholie-adumbred mood?
A fable to the vulgar babblement,
A muddie ebbe after a Chrystall flood?
Out with thy candle, let it burne no more,
When once thou art become the worlds eye-sore.

And tell not me of dutie vnto life;
Nature is as indifferent to death,
Life led in joyes abandon and deprife
Is Natures deeper graue, then earth beneath:
It is not death, that which the world calles dying,
But that is death, which is all joyes denying.

Nature disdaines all grosse encountring meat
Fore-fed with Nectar, and Ambrosian sweetes,
And Night that is the merrie dayes defeat
We see how Nature giues it drowsie greetes:
Now: Sleep by night is but a silent signe
How sweet it is to die in Ioyes decline.

And then as is the morrowe-dawning day
A fresh re-blesse to Natures next awake;
So to the wretch that dies disgrace away
Elizium is his second lifes partake:
Where he shall triumph in eternity,
And Fame the Chanteclere of such his glory.

Loe, I a president before thine eyes;
This gore imports the glorie of my Ghost,
Who but fore-weening Cæsars tyrannies
Fore-doom'd my self in care-preuenting post:
Then thou that art a verie wretch indeed,
Oh, why deferrest thou so long to bleed?

Out with that Iayle-bird of aduersitie,
Disdaine to liue at Natures joylesse leasure:
Bale drown'd in gore and magnanimitie
Is an vpdiue to all eternall pleasure:
Thinke what a Fame-renowned thing it is
In crimson floods to warfare base de-blisse.

Deferre no longer then thy doome of death,
But Champion-like confound Calamitie,
Prosperities Satrap feares not to vnsheath
His kil-care blade gainst fleshes fearful frailtie:
Flesh of it selfe will one day turne to dust,
Then doome it thou thy selfe since so it must.

Thou would'st not gladly eate an Abricocke,
Or Peache vnpar'd, because their rinde is bitter,
And fear'st thou then to giue thy flesh the stocke,
That so vnkindely bittereth all thy better?
Oh, off with it, and yeeld thy sweetes to Ioue,
And he will counter-sweete thee with his loue.

He will imbosome thee in his embrace,
And Ioye-embalme thee in his Heauen-delights,
Thy skarres and gashes he will faire deface,
And sanctifie thee with alhallowed rytes:
Thou shalt be as a Meteor ouershining
All mortall glory in her dust declining.

There will we meet thee in Vermilion vest,
I, Otho, Anniball, and all the rest,
Fames choisest Martyrs, who in Fates detest,
Doom'd all our selues to euerlasting rest.
There will we magnifie thy happie woundes,
And high applaud thē with Crownets & Crownes,

With that I drew out my emboldened blade,
Resolu'd to massacre my loathed life:
When (loe) the Ghost from out my sight did vade,
As though to tell his Ioue of my arife:
But such a Sulphur stench hee left behind him
That I in dreade thereof shooke euerie lim.

And therwithall my sword fell to the ground
And I misdoubted some illusion:
Such was the safetie that then I found
In drowsie dread, and deaths confusion;
Prophanely spoken: t'was no frailties deed,
But God alonlie stood thee then in steed.

So then remounted on my Sable jade,
I rang'd ore craggy cliffes and desart dales
In way-lesse wander, and in Horrors shade,
One while conceipting Catoes death-auailes,
And then anon reflecting on his stinke,
Thus strayd I most in dread & deaths instinct.

Thrise drew I out my dagger for to stab me
And then so oft I mus'd why Cato stunke so,
Me thought there should no such disglory be
In sacred Ghosts, freed from the filth of woe:
So was my moody mindes perplexed wander
Partial on lifes behalfe gainst deadly danger.

Then on I rode, and riding through a dale
Hell-like adumbred with a duskie gloome,
A suddaine fatall blast did me assaile
And droue me to a second damned doome,
Where I might see a more then hell-black finger
That pointed me, and said: Loe yonder, yonder.

With that my Melancholy star'd round about
And like a whirle-wind posted to the place,
Where I might heare a voyce that roared out
Reuenge, reuenge, thy dollorous disgrace:
And then eftsoons all in a Sulphur-flame
Appear'd vnto my sight a shape of shame.

Her face was Skowl-regarding on the ground,
Her eyes like Heclas euer-sparkling fires,
Her finger on her mouth was a dumb bound
Of her Cyclopian frets and fell desires:
In th' other hand she bare a fierie sheafe,
And all her body was as pale as death.

Her haire was Snake-incurl'd Medusa-like,
Hauing the power t'instone me where I stood:
So was I sencelesse all but in dislike
And deadly horror of so dread a Bug:
At last she fretted out an angry noise
And thus inspeeched it into a voice.

Feare not my wan and moody misproportion,
For (I confesse) I am no fondlings joy,
Nor am I of a wanton disposition
As is the God of Loue that idle boy,
Yet am I a joy in another kind
To such as in vn-ioy most ioy doe find.

I am Reuenge, the doome of iniuries:
The Misers refuge, and reuiue to blesse
Occasions Argus, pith of Tragedies
The summe of pollicie in all distresse:
Wrathes thunder-bolt, and triumph ouer those
That in their jollitie work others woes.

Th' injurious Gallant in his Commick-braue
I agonize with vnexspected bale,
Because he shall not thinke that in the graue
Lies nought but impotence and deaths auaile;
I'le shew him that the worme hath power to moue,
And none so lowe but may amount aboue.

There is a Phœnix of Aduersitie
That faire results from her incinderment,
And dares to braue with an vndaunted eie
Prosperities shine, & brightest blandishment:
It is Reuenge, t'is I can stare it out,
And make it by disgrace the Misers flout.

I rear'd Corelian from his exile state
To triumph ouer Romes ingratitude,
And Cæsar I did whollie animate
To down with Pompeys scornfull altitude,
His sute deni'd him by the Senate-house,
Did cause me make him Rome-Emperious.

Of latter dayes a Bourbon in disgrace
I arm'd against his Lieges injurie,
And gaue him victorie at Pauia-chace
Where he beheld him in captiuitie:
What though he were a Traitor in so doing,
Tis statelie done to ouer-top a King.

To be faire Fortunes euer Carpet-darling
Is femall glorie: But Reueng'd disgrace
That's truly Masculine, and rich triumphing:
Al peace-content is too too cheap and base:
What manhood is it still to feed on Chickins
Like infant nurse-boys in nice Fortunes kitchins?

Giue me the man that with vndaunted sperit
Dares giue occasion of a Tragedie:
And be content for his more after-merit
To be downe beaten from felicity:
To th' end that with a fierce amount he may
Re-blesse himselfe in spight of Fortunes nay.

T'is braue to plunge adowne into the deep
And so vp-bound againe aboue the waue,
To be continually a mountain-sheep
Is Cockrell-like, it is a dung-hill braue:
The crauin Cocke is hartlesse from his hill,
Shame to be so that hast a manly will.

To be depos'd from blisse by injurie,
Is double glorie to remount to it,
Nor is thy title lost to dignitie
Vnlesse suppresse of spirite forfeit it:
Misfortunes power cannot foyle thy right,
Doe thou but beare a minde in her despight.

We cannot say that man is ouercome
That still beares vp his arme against his foe,
Nor that he is sincerely out-run
Whom the Corriuals trip doth ouerthrow:
VVhat ere is lost with fore-wits vnpreuention,
Win it againe with after-wits contention.

This humane fate, sometime to slip and fall,
But to ingrouell in durt is beastlie base:
To rise againe, oh that is Iouiall,
Or els reuenge to death the downe-disgrace:
Therefore, thou hast a spirit of despight,
As well as in good hap to take delight.

The gallant man vnhorst amidst his foes
Fightes to the death his latest wrath away,
And when he can no more: with mops and mowes
He floutes both them, and Death, and Destinie:
So if not Victor, yet vnvanquished
He dies to euerlasting liuelihed.

Be not as is the coward Scorpion
That rounded all about with ashie embers
Dispaires and dies in self-destruction
Renting with fierce enrage his venym members:
But if that Ioue nill ayd thy fortitude
Downe to all Acharon, and the Furie brood.

Hell holdes in honor the braue minded man
That knowes the price and value of his head,
That measures not Renowne by inch or span,
But by th' eternitie of Ioues Godhead,
That skornes to brooke base infelicitie,
Or pocket vp degraded dignitie.

And haply Ioue himselfe supplants thy state
To see how thou canst scamble vp againe,
And scuffle manly with malignant fate
To a redoubled glories rich attaine:
Then cheerly (man) inhearten all thy sperites
And dead Reuenge thy miseries demerites.

Loe, I thy Aduocate vnto the Hagges
Will still importune thy Prosperitie,
And be at hand with poison, and with dagges
To execute each plotted tragedie:
Misfortune all not scoffe at thy confusion,
If hell and I befriend thee in coniunction.

Lay but thy hand vpon thy conscience,
And faire in-vow mee in an earnest spirit,
So shalt thou compasse Tragick consequence
On all thy foes that now so frollick it.
They shall no longer feast vpon thy frets
Nor register thy woes in their banquets.

Thou shalt eniowle them one against another
With hostill jealousie, and dead debate:
I tell thee (man) all friendship is vnsure
Founded vpon anothers downe estate:
Nor ioyes he long against Reuenges doome,
That wrong in-states him in anothers roome.

Heauen is the Arbiter, and wils it so,
I and the Furies are the instruments
To act that iustice in all tragicke woe,
Now is it in this case our good intents
To joyne with vs thy manuall act heerin
That more then pristin glory thou maist win.

But say thou winne not pristin glorie by it
Yet shalt thou see thy foes in downe disgrace,
Thy selfe shalt act it, such shall be thy merit,
And such thy glorie in a higher place:
What greater glorie can betide the vale
Then force the Mountain-top adowne to fall?

So shall thy glorie not be lost, but left,
Yea losse to them that all so dearly buy it,
When thou shalt Phœnix-like of blisse bereft
Rise from thy ruines to a higher merit:
Degraded from a puppit Commicke-stage
To act the statelie Tragick personage.

Chang'd to a faire enfiered Salamander
Breathing Reuenges bright & sacred flames,
Which high inspirits men to lofty matter
In quaint disdaine of aulike infant games;
Games of the bodie, follies of the minde,
Oh, how t'is base to liue so like a Hinde.

Nature hath giuen you male & female willes,
The one wherwith to couet meriments,
The other to detest all aduerse ils,
Now is almightie Ioues great woonderments
More in his Thunder-boltes then in his sweetes,
To shew Reuenge more woorth then Pleasures greets.

Then arme thy selfe Reuenges Champion,
To bandie away thy foes, and all disgrace
VVith polliticke dissimulation
Of contrarie language, and contrary face:
As the Camelion changeth still his hue
VVith euery obiect cullor: so change thou.

So maist thou close Camelion-like conceale
Thy tragicke shape of Horror and Reuenge,
Whiles they misdoubting not thy false reueale
Are caught vnwares like Woodcocks in a sprenge,
Such is the honour of Aduersitie,
With sleightes to vndermine Prosperitie.

Be to thy oath, as th' Ape is to his blocke,
Sometimes sticke to it, sometimes flit from it
As pregnant pollicy may thee prouoke:
T'is foole-sincerity, and want of wit
To make a pot to breake thy head withall,
Or rather not to breake it first of all.

Vse Friend and Foe, and Neuter all alike,
Onlie as instrumentall implements
To thy designe; thy aymed stroke to strike:
And fee them but with ayery complements:
That done, and thy affaire effected,
Destroy them all for feare thou be detected.

Dead dogges barke not, nor stands it with thy honour
To be vpbrayded with a curtesie;
Much lesse to be employd in like deuoir
According Quidpro Quoes seruilitie:
Such is the summe of perfect policie
To worke securely with Vulgaritie.

Be close, and iealous in each action
For that close dealing is good Speeds assurāce;
And Iealousie's the Sentinell of Caution;
And bear thou still in mind this circumstance;
If all good fortune, and aduise should faile thee
To haue a starring hole for after safetie.

T'was meger Prudence in the antique Sages
That but with Goodnes could recure an Euill:
Giue me the man that with wittes pollices
Can Saint a Deuill with another Deuil:
That can so shift, and shuffle the cards in fist,
As turne vp whatsoeuer Trump he list.

T'is Heauens attaine to send thy foes to Hell
With mutuall murthers in Seditions field:
The vpper Buckets fall into the well
The lowers faire amount we see doth yeeld:
Such is the merit of Reuenges deed,
With others wrack to work thine own good speed.

At least to die in well appeased wrath
And in suruiue of all thine enemies
Is stately dying: t'is faire lie downe and laugh,
And an vp-rise to Ioues benignities,
Elizium and Fame in after ages,
Reuenges blessed Rightes and Appennages.

Then come, imbrace me with a firme assent
And thinke no idle voyce sollicits thee;
I tell thee (man) in thy arbitrement
Lies all thy glorie, and felicitie:
I'le be thy hand-maid heer in earth belowe,
The rest aboue great Ioue he will bestow.

So sayd, she rear'd her skowle down-looke on
And vagrantlie regarding round about
In Period-pawse; At last as one bestraught
She star'd, and trembled, and began to powt
And suddenly she vanisht out of sight
Because now in the East it dawn'd day-light.

Euen so (quoth I) is it Reuenges guize
To be in force by Night, be gone by Day?
Such is not the instinct of Paradize,
God graunt it be no Plutonicke affray:
Oh what it is to be a mortall man
Subiect to all the guiles and sleights of Satan.

Yet for her speech was consonant to Nature,
I wisht sh' had been an Oracle of truth;
So credulous is Angers moodie vigure
When once it is in-Cæsared in youth:
And hand in-handed with a quaint Disdaine
Iniurious disglorie to sustaine.

Yea what is not the miser apt to doe,
What not beleeue to mittigate his euill?
Well may he faine a patient outward hue,
But not exile his inward damned deuill,
The Vulture of despite that neuer dies
But rents and teares his heart in rauin-wise.

Now Chanteclere the vigill of the night
Crew broad day light: when Titan in the East
Peece-meale appearing in his pristin bright
Broad-waked euery creature, man and beast,
Ech musick-bird beblessing his amount
Both in the humble vale and haughtie mount.

When (loe) my jade vnsprighted, and vnnighted,
Rag'd and engag'd himselfe to all aduenture
Ore hedge, and ditch, and flood, so fell affrighted
He was to see the Sunne, so shone a creature:
All as the Tench in waterles despaire
Beateth himselfe to death in spight of ayre.

So on I hasted at my jades behest,
As whilom Phaeton in his skyey carte,
Weake (God he knowes) to rule so fierce a beast,
Deadly feare-frighted both in heart and arte:
But whome our Lords safe prouidence bespeedeth,
No humaine power of heart or arte he needeth.

At last in processe of an ouer-tire
My moody beast stood stil in palsie-wise,
Trembling and fainting in a daunted ire,
(Such is the end of Rages ryotize:)
Then had I leasure for to looke about me,
And (loe) I spide a Rock in shining glorie.

I hy'd me to it with a pleasing pace,
And yet not pleasant, for t'was all to slow:
So flight is Melancholie to darke disgrace
And deadly drowsie to a bright good morrow;
Yet on I march'd, and marueil'd at the sight,
I neuer in all my life saw thing so bright:

As more and more I neer'd vnto the place
So by degrees my Melancholy fainted,
When (loe) anon with a religious pace
A snow-white Iennet towards me aduanced:
His name was Good desire, his saddle greene
Was Reuerend Solace of a godly spleen.

Whereat my jade affrighted and despighted
Sped all to naught as myst before the Sonne:
When I eftsoons internallie delighted
Was rapt by Good desire vnto Deuotion:
A penall place, yet parcell of the rock,
And brighter then the Noony Zodiack.

There kneel'd a reuerend Sophie all in teares
With needle-pointed Discipline correcting
His Fleshes frailtie: Oh how he besmears
The place with penall bloud, and blubbering:
His hart was wholly fixt on Christ his Passion,
So shew'd his Crucifixe-contemplation.

Before him was a Deaths-head full of wormes,
The picture of a Graue, and an Hower-glasse,
A map of Doomsday, and Hell in fearfull formes,
And Heauen figur'd all in Saintlie sollace:
His pale and megre countenance areeded
His spare poor fare, and how hard he bedded.

Standing behind him, he was in a trance,
And I betooke my Eie to a steddie gaze,
My Mind to an amaze at so great suffrance,
So penall suffrance in so bright a place,
And now I see (said I) there is a blisse
Euen in Aduersitie what ere it is.

And thus aside I argued the case:
In place so bright what meane these drearements?
A heauie case deserues a dolefull place
Since bale and blesse are aduerse Complements:
And yet the Glowe-worme in the darkest night
Though blacke it be, shines foorth a starry bright.

Cato and Reuenge were blacke, and both to blame
Th' one in sulphure stenche, th' other in Lights abhorr,
And Melancholye was the Iade of shame
That darkeling brought me to that dubble dorr;
A better horse I hope hath brought me hether
For both the place is bright, and tis fayr weather.

Long haue I rang'd to finde a place of ease
Whear I may passe away my pensiue playntes,
And happly if this be now that place of peace
Heer rest I euer in my woes attayntes:
Heer in this Caue, and in this sable shrowde
Dye I a Caytiffe vnder Fortunes clowd.

This aged man and I will both together
Complaine in common our calamytie;
That haply whiles we striue t'outplaine each other
Suche our ambition may swage our miserie,
Or both at once, may cracke as ouerstrained,
Ambitious dying is a glorie gained,

But (well I wot) thou wrong'st this holy place
By mis-constructing it to care and bale,
T'is puddle sacrilege so to disgrace
The grace of God, through errors rude misprisall:
What though the man doe seeme disconsolate,
Somewhat it is doth thee exhilerate.

For why, I felt my spirit all possest,
With a reuiued hope to happinesse;
It was the Grace of God in my vnrest
That in-lie cheer'd me vp to future blesse,
Deer gift of God, the Character of life
And heauenly make-peace of our ghostly strife.

It is the Raye, and Speech of heauen to man,
The Rainbowe-pledge of Gods beneuolence,
The Limbecke of our justice, and the Fan
That winnoweth sinne away from innocence:
Prime moouer, and efficient cause of good
To all that are redeem'd with Christ his blood.

Whiles thus with infant-zeale I did applaud
The in-come grace of God into my heart
In full detest of fore-affected fraud,
Loe, now this penall Sage began to start
From out his trance, and with a heauenlie voyce,
And armes a crosse, he bid his soule rejoyce.

Reioyce (quoth he) at this eternall truth,
The man is blest that for Gods justice sake
Sustaines with Patience reproch and ruth,
Our Lord hath promist that he wil partake
His heauen to him: His name be prais'd therfore,
And so he kist the Crosse, and said no more.

With that my heart exulted in my breast,
As faire presaging weale vnto my woe;
For why I was not vulgarlie distrest
But, for a cause that bore an honest showe,
Yet for my frailtie was impatient
I long'd for speedy death or solagement.

Then stept I to that man of Mysteries
With carefull Complement least to offend,
When he eftsoons with reuerend arise
Did recomplie me like a perfect friend:
The teares of joy that trill'd adowne his chin
Did sweare what true affection was within.

And lastly he thus embracingly bespake me,
Welcome (Elizian-man) a thousand-fold
More deere and shone to Catechrysius eye
Then all the pleasant pride of Pearle or Gold:
Rare, yea all too rare are now adayes
Elizas subjectes seen to passe this wayes.

Belike yee are a Paradized people
That so contain your selfes in home-delights,
As though that only vnder your steeple
And no wher els were all May-mery Rights:
A blessed people ye are, if it be so
And yet me thinkes thou seem'st a man of woe.

Wherto I answered all with humble thanks:
First, that I was the man he tooke me for
Bred and brought vp on fayre Elizas bankes,
Next, did I largely shew him furthermore
How blessedly we liue, as hee had heard
Vnder Elizas peacefull power and guard.

And as for my peculiar distresse,
I tolde him so I seem'd, and so I was
The Rag of Fortune: Badge of base deblesse,
The Spunge of care, a broken Hower-glasse:
The Finger-man of shame, and Obloquie
Downly degraded from Felicitie.

I told him of my dreary iournement
On moodie Melancholie; and how I sped
With Cato, and Reuenges babblement,
And how, along the Desart as I fled
I met with Good Desire a goodly Steed
That brought me thether in my ghostly need.

I would haue told him more of my arange
Euen all the verie conscience of my case,
The cause of such my reprobate exchange
From blesse to bale: & how frō place to place
Bowndlesse in care, I rang'd to bownd my Fate,
Content to die: but not die desperate.

But he eftsoones preuented me, and said:
Oh happie thou, if so thou knew'st thy hap,
I tell thee (man) thou art right faire apaid
Exil'd from Mammon into Iesus lap:
Come sit we downe, and I will shew thee how
In this distresse, thou mayst nor breake, nor bow.

So downe we sate: my heart was festiuall
My eare was eager-liquorish to embaite
Good Catechrysius his Cordiall:
Who then with eies to heauen eleuate
And crosse-laid armes did vow syncerely
All loue, and truth in what he meant to shew me.

And then (quoth he) deare Englishman, suppose
Me not vnciuill t'interrupt thy tale,
For in our Lord I well aread thy woes
And Charitie hies me to recure them all:
Now all is but the action of the Mind,
That rectifi'd, the rest is all but wind.

Know then, thow art no better then a man
Natur'd indifferently, to weale or woe,
Who ere he be that's borne of a woman
Is first just nothing, next an Embrio,
Then borne into the world in impotence
Poore interest to future Excellence.

Nay borne in sable sinne to Gods offence,
Nipt in the blossome by the blast of Hell,
Spur-gall'd of Adam both in soule and sence
And hodge-podged between a man & Deuel,
A fardle of frailties doom'd vnto damnation
So sore we haue incurr'd Gods indignation.

If these be titles of felicitie,
Ah, poore felicitie, vnpleasant Pride:
Rooted in hell, brancht in mortalitie
And round imbark'd with sin on euerie side:
Nor are we thus disgrac'd but of our selfes
For first we eate the Apple of all these helles.

We might haue chosen in Adams Libertie
Whether t'haue eate that Apple yea or no,
But needs we would aduenture: And wot you why?
Forsooth of Pride both good and bad to know:
So slunke from vs the glorie and grace of God
Leauing vs quite to our selfe breeching-rod

Heerhence we couet counterfeit content,
Sublime mundanitie, and our Fleshes ease,
Rating the trash of earth true solagement
And euery toy of price our sence to please:
Such is our frailtie, and yet we see it not
So to subject vs to so seruile Lot.

And such the matter of thy discontent,
Because thou ouer-prizest Fleshes sence,
Rating the world at all too high a rent
Wheras it is but dust and Gods offence:
The Mammon of iniquitie in Scripture phrase
And but a meere Crocadyle-amaze.

Conceipt thy selfe no better then thou art,
A sorie Iourney-man from birth to death
And all this world but matter of vndesart
And a meere momentarie trash-bequeath:
Death doomes all Flesh at last, and Flesh-affaires
Be it Fleshes joyes, or Fleshes seruile cares.

Blesse being the perfect Counterpane of good
This world is not of worth to correspond it
It being but trash ore-flowne with Frailties flood
And deep indown'd from heauens fellowship:
Then vp to heauen amount thy true ambition
And as for earth out-care it in contrition.

Not to dispaire and die as Cato told thee,
For that is base Pusillanimitie
And Natures most vnhallowed infamie,
Treason to God, and fell disloyaltie
So to betray his Fort and Character
To selfe-misdoome, and drearie disaster.

We ought not cancell Gods eternall doome
Vn-labelling our life from his faire Charter,
For such is diffidence in his holidoome
And prowd in-officing vs in his affaire:
Nor can we kill Calamitie by death
For he is just in earth, and hell beneath.

Thou canst not flit from his almightie doome
He being th' Arbiter of all, and nothing:
Who gaue thee Essence out of Vacuum
Can paine thy ashes all in earth reposing:
Well maist thou shift his anger into grace
But not depriue thee from his heauenly face.

As vaine it is to thinke Reuenges deed
Can counter-doome thy bale to blessednesse,
The power of Flesh being but a rotten reed
And selfely inclined vnto all distresse:
Then since we are so wretched of our selfes
Add worse to yll doth but encrease our helles.

Such is Reuenge: It is a haggard yll,
A Luciferiall ranke vncharitie:
The venym, and blacke-Santus of our will
Vnreasons rage; spawne of Impietie,
Breath of Despaire, Prime-brat of Enuies brood,
And all good Natures Satyr-Antipode.

Reuenges arme rear'd vp against the Foe
Aimes to defeat God of his interest
Who clausually reseru'd that worke of woe
Vnto his owne judiciall behest;
Thou art a man, and once didst sucke thy mother,
Thou canst not judge thy selfe, much lesse another.

And what know'st thou whether haply for thine owne
Or for thy Predecessors sinnes thou sufferest,
God oft transfers his indignation
From the offending East to th' ending West.
Or whether it be to trie thy patience,
And flush the more thy good obedience.

If it be for thy sinnes, oh happy thou
That art so temporally corrected:
Such is Gods mercy, not his Iustice-blow,
A worser doome is to thy euill indebted:
For God being good in all infinitie
Such is thy sinnes, and hels affinitie.

And if for thy fore-fathers trespasses,
T'is braue to be so good a Sacrifice,
God earst to expiate thy amisses
Being a president before thine eies
Of willing death; wee are not borne only
Vnto our selfes: Suche is vncharitie.

The feeble Nature euen of Flesh and Blood
Hath been so kind to die for Ancestrie,
Gentility records Eneas good
In that he bore his aged fathers frailtie
Through Troyes flames: much more ought Charitie
Beare patiently anothers penaltie.

But shall I say that haplie in this case
Our Lord is pleas'd to trie thy patience,
Thy valure, and obedience in disgrace?
Oh, that were all-too glorious a pretence:
For (well ye wot) that Souldiour is a King
That choycelie is employ'd in warfaring.

T'is Scowndrell-glorie still to sit at ease
In gawdie satisfaction of thy sence:
Nay, t'is no glorie at all, but a disease
That Canker-like consumes thine Innocence.
Now God being pleas'd to cure thee thereof
Doth thus confound it all into a scoffe.

And yet confounds it so, as thou maist see
His Iustice and his Mercie ioind together,
Thy yll contrould to future dignitie,
So dooth the goodnesse of thy cause auerre:
If God did meane thy eternall infamie,
Worse passiue cause had foule befall'n thee.

Thou canst not haue a more assured pawne
Of Gods benignitie then a good cause,
It being vnto thy soule a sacred dawne
Of heauens day; and an especiall clause
Or Charter-warrant of Saluation
By a secure Conscience-attestation.

Not all the glorie of this world is worth
The minnim-Emphosis of a good Conscience:
The verie penall teares it sendeth foorth
Are more then pearles of Indie-excellence:
Much more are they Emperiall dignities
Her inward Ioyes and Iocundities.

Say that the Corpes of such a Conscience
Lie all in mange before the Misers dore,
His name as hell held in the worlds offence,
Yet is he not vnfortunate therefore;
For heauen and he being still in good conjunction
All that's but vapor, and no sound confusion.

Nay t'is to thee a haughtie merit-matter
If brookt with patient valure to the end;
Which easely thou maist doe, if thou consider
That Iesus tempts thy patience as a friend,
Not in his rage aboue thy power and strength,
Whom he reprooues at first, he saues at length.

And sooth to say, what is Prosperitie
That so should make thee abhor Aduersitie?
Euen Cæsars loftie pomp, and soueraigntie
Is not by ods sincere felicitie;
Subiect to Care and Alteration
Through Enuie, Errour and Adulation.

How much adoe is done ere men attaine
To wealth and glorie by Ambition?
Still carke and care shares halfe the seruile gaine,
The rest remaines to Deaths confusion:
T'is well if tart Synderisie and Hell
Triumver not to towlle the passing-bell.

Care in attaining, and care in attaine
Care is the lower and the vpper staire:
Such carefull glorie is but glorious paine,
Yea care, or care-lesse either, all's but aire:
Feast it in care, or feast it carelesly
Death is the latter Harpie of all glory.

Besides, how many Villaines are aduanc'd
To such theatricall, and stagie-state
Whilst Vertue lies obliuiously entranc'd,
Neglected, and disdain'd as out of date:
Besides the multiplicitie of abuse
That is in such mundanities mis-use.

Whereas the patient Satrap in distresse
Behonesteth his guiltie suffrance:
And if he suffer for Gods righteousnesse,
Loe, there the summe of all true valliance:
Heauens Machabe he is that so downe-dies
Guiltie of all glorie, and Gods deere dainties.

Who heares his name a thousand yeeres hence
Will giue it glorie, praise, and reuerence
As to a Temples ruin-Monuments
Rased in Sacrilege, and Gods offence:
He will be-villaine those that did the deed
As Scowndrell-Agents of Hells blacke areed.

We are not borne to Fortunes complements,
As soueraigne dainties; but as Vertues tooles
Wherwith to shape vs perfect lineaments
Of honorable Manhood: And not as Fooles
To dote vpon the Pensill in our hand
And not depaint vs like to Gods command.

Vertue's the Ladie of our Humanitie,
And Fortune but the hand-maid of our merit,
Now, were it homelie done to magnifie
The meane aboue the maine: T'were pettie sperit
To slip our nettes into the Sea for water
And pardon Fish, as no part of the matter.

This life is but a warfare against sinne
And either Fortune is but sinnes Coate-armour,
Be it bright or blacke, great danger lies therein
If thou resist not with a haughtie valour:
T'is witlesse yeelding to her gawdements,
And cowardize vnto her drearements.

What skils it whether, we fight with blacke or white
If blacke and white be both our enemies,
The one in guile, th' other in flat despight?
The Goblin-Bugs, and Faery Hiedegies
Are both the shades of hell, and night-affrayes
Encounter, not assent quelles their dismayes.

And why are we the image of our God
The Monarches ouer all Elementaries?
But to controwll with Reasons righteous rod
All flesh and bloods fraile sensualities;
T'is sensualitie, and pettie power
To mal-content thee for a fading flower.

Stand thou on Reasons haughty Promontorie
Superiour and secure ouer all disgrace,
Rage wind, and waue, & horror round about thee
Yet all is glorie and peace in that bright place:
Nor Death, nor Hell can damnifie thy honer
So long as Reasons arme beares vp thy banner.

Oh generous minded men that can esteeme
All state inferiour to their mindes degree,
And not abandon it to base misdeeme
Of any Fortunes power aboue her glee:
But can out-stare it with a quaint regard
In reference to merite, and Gods grand reward.

That can conceipt all Fortune as a Fog
Bee't black or bright, all but a matter of aire,
If bright, oh then it doth but flatter and cog,
If blacke, it drowns thee with a flood of care,
Vnlesse thy mind be as a Sunne aboue it
Faire ouer-shining all her mist-demerit.

Faire Fortune is a Bog, a dauncing danger,
And Temperance must foot it with a modest pace;
Her frowne, a gulfe that drownes the hartlesse stranger
That cannot wend with Patience his disgrace;
Both that and it are mortuarie matter
If fed vpon in Indiscretions platter.

Submit not then thy sacred Substantiue
To Fortunes hestes: but as thou art of Nature,
So still continue thy prerogatiue
Aboue her blandishing and spightfull power,
So shone a Patrimonie as thy Mind
Let neuer Fortune wast it out of kind.

Thou art no part of Fortune, but thine owne:
Vertue thy fore-guide, Heauen thy attaine,
Good death, not loftie life thy best Renowne,
Contented mind thy glories after-gaine:
Without content all glorie is but gall,
And with content disgrace is festiuall.

Content's the Spunge of true felicitie,
The Cordiall against degraded blesse,
Corriuall to the highest Empirie,
The badge of Innocence and Righteousnesse,
Vertues enthrone, Rent of a manlie mind
To God for whatsoeuer state assign'd.

It is the Phænix of fore-glories Embers:
Patience her wing, Heauen is her amount,
It is the Christopher whose manly members
Wafteth the miser-man through all affrount,
It is the true and perfect Salamander,
Breathing vitalitie in flames of fire.

Not so the Skowndrell in his greatest glorie,
For ther is no Content in guilt of euill,
A skowll down-looke, and swart synderisie
Betokening him a member of the Deuill:
He cannot with a faire erected front
Be-Abba God: nor yeeld him good accompt.

His glorie in guilt of yll is as a flower
Begnawne with an accursed Caterpiller,
Or as an Apple perisht in the coure
Though faining outwardlie a faithfull faire;
Oh fatall incense, oh accursed fume
That so choaks vp the wretch doth it assume.

Wheras the others conscientiall-content
Doth feast his Fates, and ciuillize their rage,
Turning their gall to glee and solagement
And faire be-heauening hell with her asswage;
Hee's as a Bwoy aboue the bosterous waue
Dauncing to scorne the Seas ybillowy-braue.

So strong in power is his sincere incline
To Gods ordaine and holie prouidence,
Resting therin as in a sacred shrine
Or Sanctuarie against all hels offence:
The Deuils eager-gripe cannot confound
Him whom our Lords protection doth bound.

There is no hell but in our Gods offence:
Please him, and boldlie plunge adowne the deep
Of all accurse: his holy Prouidence
Being the Argus which doth neuer sleep,
Will on the wings of safe Protection
Still beare the just man vp from all perdition.

What hap can hap amisse to Gods beblest?
What waue can surge aboue his prouidence?
The Hagges of hell are chain'd to his behest
Hell gates obey his high omnipotence:
Diue downe to Hell, if he beare vp thy chin
Wel maist thou sink a while, nere drowne therein.

If once thy hope be anchored in God
No waue, no bluster can endanger thee,
Thy foot from falling is securely shod
He corresponding thy fidelitie:
If God thy Center be and thy defence
Be Hell, be Deuil thy Circumference.

The Tyrants steele, the Hang-mans Axel tree,
His strangles, mangles, and his fierie doomes
Cannot confound true magnanimitie
Founded on Gods true loue & hollidoomes;
His life in gore, his Ghost in shades of hell
Are more at ease than anie tongue can tell.

The earthen minded man cannot conceaue
So haughtie glorie in disglorie and dole:
His groueling appetite doth so bereaue
His wit, impelling it to another gole;
Hee's so besotted in his Leprosie
That it alonlie he esteems true glorie.

But time will come when at a iust Tribunall
The iust mans miserie, and the misers glee
Will come in Coram, and bee doom'd for all:
Then mourning good shall mount to Maiestie,
And sin-polluted glorie downe discend
T'irreparable dollour without end.

Then væ to guiltie glorie, glorious guilt,
Væ to suppresse of vertue, aduance of vice;
The Rascalls towre on Vertues ruines built
Must then adowne, and he repent the price:
Oh, farre more happie then disgraced good,
Then Vice aduanc'd to skowndrell altitud.

But thou wilt say it is Detraction,
It is thy name defam'd among the just
Thy life bely'd through misconstruction
That more then all thy glorie in the dust
Be-hels and tortureth thy manly mind,
It being a mischiefe of a woorser kind.

Bee't so (Elizian-man) I doe confesse
Detraction is indeed a monstrous euell,
Foule Harpie of honour, Night of righteousnesse
And the vnciuill tongues most venym-driuell,
Much more I doe confesse it is a spight
To be of honest men a villaine hight.

But on the other side, when thou consider
The sand-blind errors euen of justest men,
How much from Gods intuitie they differ
And oft when most they iudge, are most mistaken;
Dispaire not at their doomes, but in thy hart
Blesse God who sees thee inly what thou art.

Oft-times the good man credits with his eares
Not with his eyes: Therhence if injurie
Redownd to thee; the fault being whollie theirs,
Farre be it from thy hearts synderisie:
Yea rather with a bolt-vp countenance
Giue it the Lie, and hardie sufferance.

Much more the Villaines obloquie disdaine it
As currish crauin against thy Innocence,
His Viper-language cannot cracke thy credit
A blush-lesse conscience pleading thy defence;
His tongue against thy Soules secure estate
Fares as a reed against a brazen gate.

But if his obloquie be a true Eccho
Of thy mis-gouernance and guilty life,
Then well I doe aread it is a woe
Vnto thy honor, and a slaughter-knife;
Wheras contrarie-wise if thou be sound
It's but an ayrie, and an idle sownd.

Faire then aguize thee with a trim transcent
Aboue al flesh and hells indignitie,
Embost with gentle Patience, and Content
Lamb-like repinelesse at aduersitie,
For, sooth I say, and heauen will witnesse it
The just mans miserie is a haughtie merit.

And first please God in his commandements,
Next, with a true Satrapick-sufferance
Grace me that face of thine, those lineaments
Against Detraction and hells mis-valiance,
Shew that thou art the image of thy God
In patient portage of his penall rod.

So, nor dispaire, nor yet reuenge thy woe
But with the prudent Serpent in distresse
Safe-garde thy head; let die the rest beloe:
Thy head in heauen, thy heele in heauinesse
Is merrie matter, if thou well consider
That death rejoynes them both in blesse togither.

Hast thou not noted this effect in Nature,
How chill-cold winter calefies the water
Anteperistezing her powers together
Wherby it faire resists her yeie ire?
So, in thy winter of Aduersitie
Create thy selfe a sommer-Iubilie.

Giue place to furie as the humble Snaile
Retreating in his hornes gainst misaduenture,
In time all violence will selfelie quaile
If vnprouok'd with currish misdemeanure:
The chillest winter and the darkest night
Redound at last to Sommer, and broad day-light.

See how the Marigold against the Son
Displayes and shuts it selfe at his dominion
Lessening at night her spred proportion
But nere disculloring her gold-complexion,
So to the soueraigntie of God aboue
With Fortunes night deminish not thy loue.

But thinke misfortune is the flayle of grace,
The clarifying Fornace of thy soule
Wherewith God strips away thy chaffe-disgrace
And makes thee pure mettle with such controwlle
T'is honorable manhood to obey thy God,
Bee't in his mercie, or his justice-rod.

Wilt thou submit thy mind to Fortunes Impostes
Faithlesse of Gods benignitie and care?
Ah, rather doe disdaine her bales and bostes
As Crocadyle-deceipts, and crabbed ware:
And to thy God alonly plie thy hest
For such is pure dutie, and the pure best.

So doing, better boones then Fortunes baubles
Will Spaniell-like attend vpon thy merite,
Good death, and after death th' immoouables
Of glorie, and fame, and an in heauened spirite
In euerlasting Iubilie and blesse
Far more then heart can thinke, or tongue expresse.

So shalt thou swim away in Vertues flood,
A happie burthen to a happy Maine,
Gods flowerie-eternitie garlanding thy good
And his embrace lullabying all thy paine:
Oh, happy thou when such adoption
Shall faire befall thy tribulation.

When all thy Crosses shall appeare in heauen
As euer-memorable Annalles of thy merit,
Or as bright Trophees to thy Vertue geuen
The Saintes of glorie all applauding it;
When God with his serenest countenance
Shall euer bright be-boone thy sufferance.

Then wilt thou nere repent the of thy woe
But wish it had been twentie folde as much
For Iesus sake, who euen in earth beloe
Can frollick thy incinder with his tutch
And faire be-heauen thy bones in drearie graue,
Aboue the glorie and ease that Cæsars haue.

And sooth to say, wherin hath Iesus err'd
Or not deseru'd such suffrance at thy hands?
Hath he not alwayes in his life preferr'd
Disgrace and dole to rid thee out of bands?
Oh, was not he the man, the Lambe that dy'd
To shew thee heauen in woe, and not in pride?

He was Almightie to haue sau'd his head
If he had pleas'd; But for a president
Of passiue Fortitude, and Lamblihead
He condiscended vnto woe and torment,
And did erect the Crosse a capitall
Ensigne of honour, and renowne to all.

And since, what Saint did euer amount to blesse
That hath not more or lesse been crucifi'd?
Either with selfe zeale-doome, or by oppresse
Of tyrannie by villaines hands inflicted?
The seed that must to flowery growth redound
Must first lie dead, and withered in the ground.

Besides; oh what a monstrous thing it is
To liue delitious vnder a thorney head;
Thy God to daigne to die for thy amisse
And thou repine to be dishonored
For Vertues sake; Oh fond ingratitude
So to permit thy Sence thy Soule delude.

If so the flesh, the world, the deuill could doe
More spight vnto thy state then God can quayle,
Or that his grace could not transcend thy woe
Be-cheering it with happie counteruayle,
Then might'st thou with a just repine detest;
To be by any fate of flesh opprest.

But God both can and will relieue his Plaintife
That doth with just petitions inuoke him,
Selfe-louelesse and repinelesse at the griefe
That from his soueraigne doome betides him;
The louing mothers teat is not so prone
Vnto her Babe, as Christ to his deere one.

So shew'd his Pellican-content to die
To giue thee life, the gore adowne his breast
To wash away thy sin-impuritie;
His dolour was thy euerlasting rest,
His bitter wounds the euer open gates
Of grace, and glorie to thy rankest fates.

Loe, he thy paines-appease, true charter-warrant
Of glorie after gall: The bonnie bright
Whose crimson rayes can faire propulse and daunt
The dreadest Goblin of thy darkest night:
Be thou the man of duty to thy dole,
The rest let him alone for to controle.

Inshrine thy Patience in his Passion
Thy Hope, thy Constance in his after-boones
To his entire irradiation
Submit thy night-shades and decreased Moones,
He is the Sonne of Right, and will appay
All vertues anguor with a Hollie-day.

Behold his image yonder on the Crosse,
See how he droops and dies and damnes Reuenge
Yeelding his whole humanity in grosse
A pendular reproch on woodden henge:
Yea euen his Deitie he doth deject
Vnto a seeming shadowed defect,

Be not a beast of desperation,
A moodie torment, traitor to thy selfe,
T'is grosse conceipt and imperfection
To ground thy Barke vpon thy owne shores shelfe:
Suffice it that extrinsecall aggriefe
Abound, sans that thou giue it home-reliefe.

Thinke that thy sinnes are greater then thy woe,
Thy worldly griefes but Graces happy rescue
From greater helles that to thy sowle doe growe;
Or haply to enforce to manly vertue
Thy youngling hestes of grace; or to containe
Thy present good from proouing after vaine.

Time and thy graue did first salute thy Nature
Euen in her infancie and cradle-Rightes
Inuiting it to dustie Deaths defeature,
And therewithall thy Fortunes fierce despights:
Death is the gulfe of all: and then I say
Thou art as good as Cæsar in his clay.

Death is the drearie Dad, and dust the Dame
Of all flesh-frailtie, woe or maiestie;
All sinkes to earth that surgeth from the same,
Nature and Fortune must together die:
Only faire Vertue skales eternitie
Aboue Earths all-abating tyrannie.

Read in my front the ruine of my nature
And ther withall perpend thy miseries,
I doe confesse I were a cursed creature
Were not Gods grace aboue m'infirmities,
So, thou in Faith to after-retribution
Asswage thy woe and tribulation.

Die in thy Sauiours wounds, and there an end,
There pricke the Period of thy moody wander,
To him thy woe, and the reuenge commend
As to thy soueraigne Liege and high commander.
And thinke no errour whispereth in thine eare
For what I say is true, and that I sweare.

So said: the teares of zeale trill'd downe his cheeks
Attesting truth vnto his Catechisme,
When (loe) eftsoons vnto the Crucifixe
Crooching adowne, he said; Oh sacred Chrisme,
Oh sweet asswage of infelicitie
Witnesse that what I say is veritie.

Say, art not thou the image of our Lord
The true Character of his sufferance?
Was he not crown'd, deluded, and abhord
Misuail'd, and scourg'd with vile mis-valiance?
Oh, was not he the holie Paschall-lambe
That di'd repinelesse for the sinnes of man?

Sweet (Iesu) giue me leaue to kisse thy figure
With thankfull zeale to thy benignitie,
And let me pray thee by so great disfigure
T'inspire this man of woe thy passiue-glorie:
That not all like a beast hee droop and die
Heart-lesse and impious in his miserie.

Defend thy image from so black a blurre
With thy in-shine; Let not temptation foyle
So much thy Passions price all like a Curre,
But as thou art a President of toyle
To after-glorie; so let thy grace fore-goe
And faire accompanie this man of woe.

Without thy grace my speech is all but aire
And barraine Marle; it batteneth not the ground:
It is thy grace that foysoneth all affaire
That holie grace that floweth from thy wound;
I speak in flesh, inuested in my bryer;
There is no flame at all but from thy fire.

Make it appeare how good a God thou art
And how thy woundes were not in vaine inflicted,
What Nature cannot doe, let Grace impart
To strengthen and inhearten the afflicted,
Shew that thy mercie is aboue the bound
Of Fortunes topsie-turuie to confound.

Let not the fancies of a loftie stile
And vaine mundanitie transport thy creature
As though alonlie Fortunes lowre or smile
Were soueraigne Glories gift and dread defeature,
As though thy power were worne out of date
And could no longer signiorize our fate.

Disperse the terrors of his moodie night
That he may see thy shone Hierusalem
And in this holie Cittie Sions light
Abide, and faithfullie beleeue this Theame
Happie they all that suffer for our Lord,
For he to such his heauen will affoord.

With that he kist the Crucifixe againe
And with a strict imbrace therof he sounded;
His Ghost amounted vp to heauens domaine,
His corps lay trunke-like seeming dead confounded;
Whiles I meane while internallie infiered
Did feele the woonders of Gods grace inspired.

Then gan I credit Catechrysius
And hatefullie abhor my former mood,
Base Melancholie, black and impious
That so distrayd me from eternall good:
My heart exulted, and in zeale I swore,
Now by our Lord, Ile be a beast no more.

I will no longer grudge at vertues toyle,
But gladly will be crucifi'd with Iesu;
No yron-fate shall heerafter foyle
My constancie vnto the Christ-crosse rew:
I will accompt all dollour and mishap
More deere then sweetest Lullaby in Fortunes lap.

No longer will I wander vp and downe
The desart of Reuenge, and dread Dispaire,
But heer will stint me against mis-fortunes frowne
A land-man of this soyle and happy aire:
From hence I will reuiue to pristin blesse
Or els die heer with Iesu in distresse.

No sooner said I so, and gaue consent
To Graces in-come, and our Lords attaint,
But (loe) eftsoons from heauens high regiment
Musicke resounded, and appeas'd my plaint.
It was so sweet aboue my feeble frayltie
That downe I fell as one content to die.

Dying in so sweet sollace and in-heauen
I was no more the man of earthly nature,
Gods Graces holie rellish, and sweet leauen
Had altered my flesh to a new transfigure:
Figure of zeale to be in Iesus armes,
Condition to endure ten thousand harmes.

But God who saw & wrought this alteration,
Faire interdicted Death his date-most deed,
And sent an Angell from his holie region
To cheere my frailty vp to future speed:
Whome when I saw and smelt his heauenly hue,
It did eftsoons my death to life renue.

He then out-stepping from his siluer-cloud
Made toward me with a reuerend peacefull pace,
And as he march'd euer and anon he bow'd
Vnto the Crucifixe was there in place,
Whereto at last downe humbled, he kist it,
And gaue it me in hand, and thus inspeecht it.

Hold heer (Elizian-man) thy Sauiours image
The typick Trophee of thy soules redeeme,
Be it thy lifes eternall Appennage
Thy hearts deere daintie, and thy choice-esteeme,
Inconscience it within thy in-most hest
For In hoc signe vinces is exprest.

Be it thy Standard against all affrount,
Vnder her shade tire out Mis-fortunes weather,
Be true to it, and make a sure account
Heauen is thine owne as sure as God liues euer:
God liues for euer to protect and pay
His Champion with a ioy-eternall day.

And hether I come, sent from his Tabernacle
To certifie so much to thy poor frailtie,
And heer haue brought thee heauen-inchanted tackle
To warfare flesh and bloods calamitie:
Loe I thy Angell of protection
Against whatsoere foule and fell affection.

With that he arm'd my Head with Reasons Helme,
The Crest was Vigilance; the Plumes were twaine
Temprance against faire Fortunes ouerwhelme,
And Patience against her angrie vaine:
The Gorget was Content, and either Pouldron
Was humble Prayer and Meditation.

The Corslet, it was Zeale of Gods true honour,
The Back peece, Hope to after-retribution,
The Gauntlets, tackles to Charities endeuour,
The Vant-braces, Faiths decke and decoration,
The Martch, he did injoyne was Penitence,
The Combate, Courage against all sinnes offence.

Then gaue he me in hand a Shield of Golde
All ouer-grauen with Christes Passion,
And round about in-amill'd I might behold
Death-heads, and latter Resurrection
To heauen or hell: The Crosse in th' other hand
Was all my Spear against whatsoere withstand.

Thus arm'd; the Angell bright againe in-clouded
Vpbounded from mine eye toward heauen away
Leauing the place with spiced sweetes suffused
And all bestrew'd with Crownes and wreathes of Bay,
Spelles and demonstrances of future glorie
To well atchiued warre and victorie.

I then there all alone vn-Angelled,
Began to view and glee me in mine Armes
Woondring to see me so be-Championed
Against th' assaults of sin & Fortunes harmes:
And thus I said: Oh shone Hierusalem
What woonders are in thee to well-fare men,

I blesse the God and Spirit of thy bounds,
I blesse thy Concord, and thy Monarchie,
I blesse the streams that tril from Iesus wounds
Into thy seuen-fold Cesternes; and from thee
Are vitally imparted vnto all
That liue within thy Rampier and thy wall.

Loe, I with Graces furniture faire arm'd
Within thy confines, humbly beseech thee
Admit my Souldiour-ship as yet vnharm'd
With any aduerse warres, into thy cittie:
And daigne me there a stand against all euill,
The flesh, the world, and fierce insulting deuill.

In thee I see how much I went amisse
Ranging the desart of mundanitie,
And in thy wisedom now I learne this
That not in Fortunes false malignitie
But in sinnes guilt, and grimme captiuitie
Is only wracke, and blacke calamitie.

I see my misse in thy faire Phisnomie,
My way-lesse errours in thy vnitie,
I feele the ardure of true Chiualrie
Inspir'd in me from thy Nobility:
Heere liue I then the remnant of my age
Vnder thy haughty woorth and Patronage.

So said; a siluer bell from high resounded
Sommoning that Region round about to sacring,
When (loe) eftsoons Catechrysius vn-swounded
His soules returne did giue him new reuiuing,
Oh sacred sommon, sweet enchanting peale
That so from heauen to earth couldst soules repeale.

His face like Phæbus in his Noony-shine
Daunted my feeble eye at prime aspect,
His soules regresse had made it so diuine,
Bebrightning cleane away all fraile defect,
As had not zeale inheartened my frayltie,
I had not had the power t'abide such glorie.

He then vp-rising toward me aduanced
And kist the Crucifix I had in hand,
So done; he said: Sweet Iesu be thou thanked
That hast vouchsau'd my prayer to vnderstand;
Confirme him in thy grace for now and euer
That from thy loue and laud he varie neuer.

With that he imbrac'd me with a frount of glee
And call'd me brother, and Coparcener
Of Christes Domaine, and therwithall he gaue me
A golden ring; the poesie was Perseuer:
So, foorth we went vnto the Temple-ward
Twas sacring time, and musick much we heard.

Along as vp the Rocke we footed it
He did congratulate my shone in-armor
And did expound vnto me euery whit
How I might vse it to Gods greatest honor
And then concluded: O Elizian
See what it is to be a Christian.

Wouldst thou haue thought in thy mundanitie
That euer Fortunes heel had had the might
To spurne th' away to such an after-glorie?
Or that thy sorie iourneyment all night
Would euer haue brought thee to sweet repose
As now thou feelest farre aboue thy woes?

The ball out-banded from the court of game,
Fals not of force into the duttie kennell,
But marke, and often shalt thou see the same
Flie in at Pallace-windowes, and there reuell
Vpon the royall Mattes, and rich embroader;
Such grace of God hath blowne thy frailtie hether.

Not all the flush of thy fore-frollicke state,
The worship of thy birth, thy rich reuenue,
Thy countries high applaud and estimate
And all that faire Elyzium can yeeld youe,
Is of the worth to countervayle thys hap
Fallen from faire Fortune into Graces lap.

Say that Eliza is the Lords deere daintie,
The Phænix of true Principalitie
The feast of peace and sweet saturitie
Vnto the people of her Emperie;
Say that she is both Grace and Natures none-such
I bend my knee; and say and thinke as much.

For I haue heard the woonders of her name
Our coast is full of great Elizabeth,
Yea, all the world is fertill of the same;
Sweet Name that all mens tongues and pennes inableth,
Sweet Sound that all mens sences lullabieth,
Sweet Marle that all the world imbatteneth.

But such her glories are but eare-delightes
And lip-sweets only to our far awayes,
For we are no Elizium-bred wightes
Nor haue we any such like merrie dayes;
Wee haue our joyes in another kind
Ghostly innated in our soule and mind.

Whom angour of mishap or guilt of ill
Driues to dispaire, and selfe misdoomfull deed,
Loe, heer th' vnfraught of his woe-loaden will
And reuerend riches to his ghostly need;
Loe, heer the Arke against the inundation
Of Sinne and Fortunes funerall-temptation.

Heer (loe) the amitie of men and Angels
In vniforme adore of one true God,
Heer Peace and Pietie togither dwels,
Heer Scisme, and Discords clouen-foot nere trod,
Heer sacred Ceremonies are in vre
As wedlocke-rightes twixt Faith and Soules insure.

Heer chantes the Nightingale incessant praise
And prayer vnto the Orient sonne of God,
Heer Grace our vncouth Adamisme allayes
Stepping her golden foot wher guilt erst trod,
Heer Sacrifice and Sacrificer both
Gods blesse and good acceptance still sore-goeth.

He would haue told me more to this pourport,
But that his vp-hill pace out-tyr'd his speech
And now were also neer the Temple port
Where euerie sight I saw was so heauenly rich
As had he vttered more mine eies delight
Had quite vndone mine eares to doe him right.

Ah, now I want the Muse of Salomon
To tell you a Temple-tale, a tale of truth
All of the Architect and frame of Sion:
To tell you of her age and of her youth
And of her reuerend raigne and regiment
And how Doblessa rues her high atchiuement.

The grownd was Faith; the meane-worke Charitie
The Top, a Hopefull apprehension
Of heauens attaine: All was of Vnitie
A sollid mettle heawn out of Christ his Passion:
Yea Christ himselfe was fundamentall stone,
And all the Sowder was Deuotion.

There shin'd the Rubie and the Chrysolite
The sparkling Diamond, and the Emeraud greene,
Each Saphyre in their seuerall delight:
There was the happie Iacent to be seene
The Topasse, Onyx, and many a faire gem,
Corrall, Amber, and Aggats were trash among thē.

Which such bright rough-cast ouer all incrusted
T'was heauen to see what Rain-bowe rayes it yeelded
Whiles euerie gem ambitiously contended
T'out-stare each others starry neighbourhed:
It was ynough t'illumine all the world
But for the mysts that false Doblessa hurld.

Roses and flowers of all cullored kindes,
The Marie-bush and pleasant Eglantine
The Honey-suckle in her twisted twines
Immixt with Yuie, and the Grape-full Vine,
Did all growe vp that starrie spanglement
Spousing her splendure with their spiced sent.

Below these heauen-amounting swauities
Grew ouer all the Temple-greene beside
Sweet Gilliflowers and Primroses
The Pink, and Gerisole (the Suns deer bride;)
The Molie, Violet, and the pleasant Dasie
Balme, Margerum, and sweet Coast-marie.

There grew the loftie Cedar, and the Pine,
The peacefull Oliffe, and the martiall Firre
The verdant Laurell in her shadie-shine,
The patient Palme, and penitentiall Mirrhe:
The Elme, the Poplar, and the Cipresse tree
And all trees els that pleasant are to see.

All kinds of fruits were there perpetuall
The Date, the Almond, & the sauceful Citron,
The Fig, the Orange, and Pomgranet royall,
The Quince, the Abricock, and the musk-Mellon
The Plumme, the Cherie, and the pleasant Peare
The Filberd and the Mulberie grew there.

Amid these trees, these fruites, these flowerie sweetes
Ran in a Maze-like wile a chrystall streame
Of heauenly Nectar; in whose sweet floods and fleets
Swom sholes of fishes, euerie fishes gleame
Brighter then Tytan in his Southerne stage:
This streame was strong against prime guiltes enrage.

Her silent murmur was so musicall
As it dissolu'd the Rock to sand and grauell
Whereby it might more in especiall
With multiplicitie of eares incell
Her musick-sweets: yea euen the earth beloe
Did open, and eruct her bowels therto.

There sate the Mauis and the Nightingale
Carrolling their Layes vnto th' eternall spring
The little Larke high houering ouer all:
There euery bird did either play or sing,
The Parrat for his plumes did most excell
But Phænix bare away the triumph-bell.

There was no sauage shape, no Laruall hue
No Bug, no bale, nor horrid Owlerie
But all that there was, was sincere and true,
Her sweets, her spendure, & her musick-glee;
Yea euen the Angels of Diuinitie
Were of that league, and Confraternitie.

Whiles thus with sacred sollace I suruayd
The Temples outward majestie, and heauen,
So long on that imparadize I stayd
That now the Temple-clocke did strike eleuen:
It was the instant time of high Oblation
We might no longer linger, but begon.

Eftsoons we did so pace-fully aduance
That to the Temple-dore we straight arriu'd,
Ore which was grauen, Vna, Militans
Astile from Vnitie, and Warre deriu'd;
The gate was all of pure beaten golde,
The Portch a sunnie Zodiacke to behold.

Then in we entred, (oh, we entred in)
Please God I neuer may come foorth againe:
What saw I there? Oh my eyes were dimme
My soule, my substance all was poore, and vaine
To comprehend so high magnificence;
Yet what I can I will you it dispence.

I Spanield after Catechrysius foot
A happie shaddow to good a substance:
All like a flower as yet but in thee root
Tending to future growth, and shone aduance:
The Temple-porter was a reuerend man
And was t'admit in no Elizian.

Then ask'd he Catechrisius who I was
Who answered a Catecumen hee,
With that he greeted me, and let me passe,
Such was my entrie to felicitie:
The Temple gates were fower and this was it
Which none but Europe-spirits might admit.

There on my knees my heart was full of fire,
Fire of the grace of God (deere grace of God)
Which strong bemettled my zeales aspire
To view the glorie of that shone abod:
It was a Pigion from the Temple-top
Which all that frame, and glorie did vp prop.

A Pigeon whiter then the whitest Pigion
Solie subsistant of his owne pure Esse,
His Posse was Sanctification,
And Graces bounteous liberalitie;
What Iesus erst had planted with his blood
This Pigion gaue it grace-full liuelihood.

The beames which issued from his brightsome brist
Were such as none but Sion euer saw
Nor euer could Doblessas dreary mist
Indarken, or resemble, or withdraw;
Loue, Peace, and Magnanimity in good
Patience, and Prudence aboue all flesh and blood.

Iustice, and Temperance, and Benignitie,
Zeale, and internall Consolation,
Pittie, and hopefull Longanimitie,
Obedience, and brotherly Correction,
Deuotion, and Mortification
And firme affiance in our Lords Saluation.

Such were the Pigions rayes from Temple-top
Which like a heauen of light illumin'd all,
It being therto a more secure vpprop
Then any lime and stone, or brazen wall:
Oh Sion, Sion happie Cittie thow
So holie-ghosted against all ouerthrow.

Then looking downe vnto the residue
I might discerne a reuerend ministerie
Of men and Angels chanting vnto Iesu
Incessant Hymnes of praise and Iubilie;
The high Sacrificator at the Altar
Victiming with holie rites his makar.

What shall I say of all the maiestie
Of all the reuerend rites and ceremonies
The rich adorne, the heauenly melodie,
The luster, and the precious swauities
That there I saw, felt, heard, and vnderstood?
Oh, they transcended farr poore flesh and blood.

For, what the goodnesse and the power of God
In their immensitie could jointlie doe
Was there in force sans bound or period,
His grace and glory both did tend therto:
The meanest obiect there vnto my sence
Was more then all the worlds magnificence.

There saw I sacred imposition
Of hands; and grace abundantly imparted,
Chrisme, and autentique Sanctification
And Exorcisme of such as were possessed:
Their credence and their language was alike
All Babell-Biblers they did dead dislike.

There was no scambling for the Ghospels bread
But what a publike Vnitie diliured
The same a prompt Credulitie receiued;
Their humblenesse was so beholie-ghosted
As Pride had not the power to entice
The wisest of them all to a new deuice.

Casting my eye aside, I might discrie
Selected troopes of people from the rest
Dooming themselues with great austeritie
Both men and women in discullored vest;
They were the people of vowes, and high aspire
Endu'd with Graces more especiall fire.

On no hand could I cast my liquorish eie
From heauenlie miracles and mysteries;
Some school'd their Pupils fraile infirmitie
Dispencing them Gods sacramentall graces,
Some rais'd the dead, and some expulst the deuill,
Yet nought could make Doblessa see her euill.

How manie Sionits of choise esteeme
Braue men of woonders haue beene sent from thence
To teach Doblessa (Errors dreary Queene)
Their Temples sanctimonie and innocence?
How many worthies haue dispenst their blood
To doe th' vnkind Doblessa so much good.

But she, oh she accursed Sorceresse
Would neuer yet beleeue, nor gree their grace
But still persisteth in her wretchednesse
Warfaring with bloody broile this happy place;
Yea, had she might according to her malice
Sion had been a ruine long ere this.

She was a Witch, and Queen of all the Desert
From Babell-mount vnto the pit of Hell,
She forc'd nor God, nor any good desert,
She could doe any thing saue doing well:
Her law was Libertie, her lust was Pride
And all good awe and order she defi'd.

Erst ere this Temple was established
She had no being at all aboue the earth
But euer lay in deepest hell abyssed;
Why did not God confound her in her birth?
Oh, t'was because his Temple might attaine
Through her assaults to be more soueraigne.

Gods Lambe was now both bred and dead out-right
To ransome all the world from sinnes inthrall,
And to secure it in more happie plight
Had built this Sanctuarie sacramentall:
It shin'd so shone vnto Gentilitie
That it began to see, and gree her glorie.

And as the merrie riuer to the Maine
Or the in-ayred stone downe to his Center
Fleets and descends as to their due domaine,
So it to Sion confluently bent her:
Yea, had this hag not been so timely bred
The world had all ere this been Sioned.

For she could quaintly maske in Sions guize
And sucke out venym from the Flower of life,
And so retayle it with her subtilties
For purest honey: Such was her deed of strife;
Her woluish nature in a lamblie hue
Shee could disguize, and seeme of Sions crue.

Like Ensignes she oppos'd to Sions Ensignes,
Like her pretence of grace, and Gods high honor,
Like Grapes she did contend grew vp her Vines,
And as good Gold as Sions seem'd her Coppor;
It was but seeming so, not so indeed,
Her seeming-flower was a very weed.

For why, the spirit which she did pretend
Was not autentique from the holy Ghost,
On no authority she did depend
Nor had she certaine being in any coast;
Her owne behest she did Idolatrize,
And Hydra-like renu'd her Fallacies.

She had no Altar, nor no Sacrament
No Ceremonie, nor Oblation,
Her schoole was Cauill, & truthlesse babblement
Riot her Raigne, her end damnation;
This was the haggard whoore of Babylon
Whose cup inuenym'd all that drunke theron.

And this was she which now this holie-day
Whiles all the Temple was in deep deuotions
And high adore of Christs natiuity
Came with her barbarous Babellonians
To bid it battell, and assault the place;
But (oh the foole) she came against Gods grace.

She came with peace-full Oliffe in her hand
Pretending mutuall honor of that feast:
And all her rabble-rout she did command
As much in outward fayning to protest,
But vnderneath their plausible attire
They all bare balles of venym and wild-fire.

She was more craftie then Gentilitie
Which thought of yore with massacre to quell
The propagation of Sionrie:
For well she wist that Sion was as a bell
And Persecution but as a clapper
That made her siluer-sound more far to scatter.

Shee therfore to beguile with friendlie seeming
Came thus addrest; and priuily intempled
Her speciall Bout-fieux to prepare her comming
With seeds and weeds of jealosie and falshed:
Meane while she stood without the Temple gate
Protesting zeale and dutie to her state.

But God whose spirit euer Argus-ey'd
The weale of Sion as th' apple of his eye,
Saw from his high enthrone, and did deride
The Harlots complot; and did by and by
Inspire his Templers pregnant jealosie
And valure against her slie hostilitie.

Efts might you heare a battle-bell peale out
Religious Larums ouer all the Region
And see a solempne confluence about
The high Sacrificators holie Oblation:
Each one was on his knees for Confirmation
In grace against so vile prevarication.

Amongst the rest was I a Catecumen
As yet vngrac'd with his alhallowed hand,
Vntill such time as Catechrysius then
Presented me, and gaue him t'vnderstand
My Name, my Nation, and Conuersion
And how I crau'd to be a man of Sion.

Then tooke he mee by the hand, and did applaud
Such my Primitiæ toward so high resolue,
Blessing my on-gate from Doblessas fraud
And sanctifying me with a holie salue;
He wept for joy that an Elizian
Would come to be of his Metropolitan.

And for he saw me absolutely arm'd
Alreadie to the warres; he said no more
But only blest me, and with his breath becharm'd
My Constancie against the Babell-whore:
And for I was an English-Ilander
He prickt me downe vnder Saint Georges banner.

Then Catechrysius tooke me by the hand
And led me to my Cullors; and as we went
He briefly told me and gaue me t'vnderstand
How all Doblessas dorrs I might preuent,
And then concluded. Oh, that Eliza were
A Sionite to day to see this geere.

By this Doblessa seeing all her guile
Detected and Alarum'd ouer all,
Was in a pelting chafe, and gan reuile
The name of Sion, and to scale the wall:
Loe, thus began the holie warres of Sion
Against the rampant Hagg and whoore of Babylon.

Then might you see whole Legions of Angels
Discend adowne in amitie of warre
To Sion, against Doblessa and her deuels:
The warre was like as when proud Lucifar
Tumulting all the Court of heauen was throwne
He, and his complices to hell adowne.

Eftsoones the high Sacrificator seeing
The vp-shot brunt of all Doblessas broyle
Came personally himselfe vnto the bickering
To cheere his men of warre in all their toyle:
And thus bespake them from the holie Tower,
His speech and gest was full of grace and power.

Oh men of Sion, happy Machabies,
Whom Temples honor in your soules ingrafted
Highlie demeanes to Gods benignities;
Dismay not at the number of the dead
But thinking who he is for whom you fight
Redouble your prowesse, and your manly might.

You combate for the high Hierusalem
A region of Peace and Immortalitie
Fore-spell'd, and promist only vnto them
That straine in her behalfe their vp-shot constancie:
Nor feare yee any woundes or any dying
So good a death tends to a better reuiuing.

See, how confusedly Doblessa fightes
Without all discipline or good array,
Her Camp abandon'd to intestine spightes
And euerie one contending to beare sway;
Their owne disorder will confound their power
The frame of Discord dures not an hower.

On then like gallants of the holy-Ghost
Fighting in Vnity, and for a Crowne
Against a rascall and tumultuous Host:
Nere let the strumpet pull the Temple downe,
No, neuer shall the strumpet pull it downe
For God is God, and it is all his owne.

Rememorate the glorie of her Age,
And of her Raigne, and of her prist in Warres
How often hath she quell'd Doblessas rage
Attempting to assayle her holy Rampiars?
Hath she not been a Nurse vnto yee all
A Shelter, and a feast most festiuall?

Besides, hath God not promised of yore
That hell shall nere preuaile against her gates?
And hath not he vouchsau'd to die therfore
Establishing her glorie against all Fates?
Yea, is not he her fundamentall stone
Her daylie Sacrifice and high Oblation?

What will ye more? Oh Sionites no more,
But to your tacklings stand like men of honor
Like men of Sion, one to twentie score
Such Babell-hildings; mortifie their rancor
With constant and imperious resistance,
God and his Angels are in your assistance.

So said, he blest them, and dismist them all;
Who straight in troops vnto the Rampiers ran
And happie he could get vpon the wall:
There then a second skirmish fresh began,
Doblessa still persisting in th' assault
And Sion fierce supplying all default.

It was a heauen to see the good array
And vnitie of Sion in this conflict,
How euerie one was willing to obay
His Officers encharge though nere so strict,
The holy-Ghost was in and ouer all
Cheering their combate with his cordiall.

Meane while the high Sacrificator, he
Attended to the Temples Sacrifice
Offring it vp for peace and victorie,
He chanted Hymnes, and Laudes, and Letanies,
And in Pontificall Procession
He and his Clergie made their intercession.

Some in their studdies commented the Text
Conferring place with place, and with traditions
Ov'ring the fraud wherwith Doblessa vext
Their Ghospels peace; some others in her stations
Boldlie aduentured their liues to tell
The Babellonians of all her hell.

Some they perswaded, those were verie few
And of those few not one of ten persisted.
But still as feare and fraud their frailties drew
They started backe againe like men agasted:
Oh, what it is to be too secular,
It was selfe-loue that all their weale did marre.

And of such braue aduenturous Sionites
As Doblessa could by hooke or crooke intrap
They di'd the death, and suffred all the spights
That rage and rascall wit could jointly rap,
Subject they were to dreadfull persecution
By publick edict, and false brethrens treason.

What sacring, and what sacramenting was
In Sion all this while for Sions safetie
Was more then all the strength of stone and brasse
In her defence; God not in enmitie
But for her greater glories sake permitting
Doblessa thus to bid it bale and bickring.

Contrarie-wise, Doblessa ru'd the fate
Of her attempt; her mood began to quaile,
For God now seeing the prefixed date
Of Sions patience in her last auayle
Did on the suddaine so enlarge his grace
That th' whoore retir'd, and gaue backe apace.

And then to shew her latest trumperie
(Now that our Lords permission faild her powre)
She gan with Magicke-spels and sorcerie
Faire Virgin-like to falsifie her figure,
Therby to seeme as gracious as she could
To Sions eie; such was her guize of ould.

But when she saw that all her fallaces
And fierce assaults to Sion were in vaine,
And feeling now withall Gods heauie furies
Showre down vpon her like a floud of raine,
Shee could no longer bide the brunt of Sion
But backe she reel'd to hell and Babylon.

And fearing least her daunted enterprize
Might haplie alien her peoples hearts
From her obeysance: She so bewitcht their eies
With mystes of falsed glory, and high deserts,
That they besotted in their disaster
Betooke them to their heeles, and fled with her.

And as they fled, Oh, marke their vanitie,
They did so crauin-cockadoodle it
As though they had run away victorie
And left faire Sion in her dying fit,
Such hoopes, such clangor, and such symphonie
And all was but Doblessas pollicie.

She nusled them in so proud Peacockrie
To th' end they might not see their damned state,
But still perseuer as the Bumble-Bee
Repine-lesse in their dung, and desperate:
Oh, cursed and vnkind captiuitie
To be so willing drudge to Falsitie.

Yet some whome Sions more especiall beame
Had bright appaid to see her dignitie
Fled from the witch, as wak'd from out a dreame
Of Faery, and Chimericall Imagerie,
Such Sion intromitted in her gate
Applauding them with deere congratulate.

Contrarie-wise whatsoeuer Sionite
Doblessa could with slight or fight enthrall
She led away into eternall night
Blind-folding their eyes to make them fall
Into a thousand helles and offendickles,
Thrise fatall lapse from Grace into such pickles.

Nor was the holie Temple thus acquitted
For euer after from her hostill trouble
But still as Hydra-like she had renued
One head vpon the others stump and stubble
She came againe, and made a braggard-show,
But still she bare away the Palsie-blow.

Such being the ancient league of God to Sion
Necessiting her Peace to such temptation
And yet withall protesting his protection
Therto: against all hell and Babylon:
What greater safetie then so good assurance?
The word of God is of eternall durance.

Thus Sion triumpht ouer moode and tumult
Cabaging her Peace in perfect vnitie
Against whatsoeuer future-Scismes insult:
And seeing now no more hostilitie
But all the Region cleere: She fell arifling
Doblessas spoyles, the Honors of her fighting.

And in her warlike wardrop there she plast them
Amongst a world of former pillages
And spoyles of Babell: high Hierusalem
Sisterlie applauding such her victories,
And thinking long the day to honor her
With her embrace, and euerlasting cheere.

Then (to conclude) the high Sacrificator
Came foorth in place, and blest the Combatants,
Bidding them giue to God th' eternall honor
Of so high hap: And therupon he descants
A large discourse of Gods protection
How prompt he alwayes was to succour Sion.

So done: he efts dismist the multitude
T'attend vnto the buriall of their brethren
Whom Sions honor had that day endu'd
With zeale to die for her like valiant men;
Their graues resented Immortalitie
Sweeter then all the sents of Arabie.

And for it was a speciall victorie
Atchiu'd euen on the very walles of Sion,
There was proclaim'd a generall Iubilie
To be sollemniz'd throughout all the region
The Octaue after: in feast-full reference
And thanks to God for such his high defence.

In which meane while the holie Sacrificer
Progressing the Prouince, visited his flocke
And with his pastorall care, and Crozier
Out-weeded and retrenched from the stocke
Whatsoeuer venym weed, or graft of Error
Doblessa had sowne, or set with guile, or terror.

Namelie; he did especially dispose
To carefull cure the wownded Combatantes;
And such as brunt of warre had slaine; all those
H'Incallendred to Fames rememberance:
Lastly, he did repaire and fortifie
Each ruine against all future enemie.

By this the Octaue-day of victorie
Was come; when (loe) the Temples siluer belles
Selfely out-pealed to festiuitie;
Then might you see both Sionits and Angels
Troop to the Temple-ward like swarmes of Bees
And hand in hand downe falling on their knees.

You may imagine, no you are to fraile
To comprehend so high magnificence:
There sawe I heauen and earth in ioynt-entayle
Homaging to Gods beneuolence
A world of praise and Alleluyaes,
Hallowing the aire with so thankfull phrase.

I saw the high Procession passe along
In intermixed rankes of men and Angels
The holie-Ghost ouer-hov'ring their song:
There sounded Musick-instruments and Belles;
Yea, birdes consorted with their warbling lays
T'enter-common also in this dayes praise.

Along as thus we march'd about the Temple
In rich array, in sweetes, and mellodie,
A suddaine Zephire-gale blew from the steeple
Solliciting our eyes supernally,
And what it was; Oh, there I bend my knee
It was a Virgin in bright maiestie.

The skie did open, and adowne discended
Vpon a siluer-cloud this sollempne sight
A Mayden-Nymph most shone-satellited
With all the Angell-court of heauen out-right:
She was inuested in as Orient splender
As Gods omnipotence and Loue could lend her.

She was the Genium of high Hierusalem
The Patronesse of Sion, and the Aduocate
Of grace and mercie vnto mortall men;
Her comming was for to congratulate
This triumph-day and gratefull Iubilie
Of Sion vnto God for victorie.

Which such her presence stinted our Procession
Rapting vs all into a sweet admire
Of so shone figure: her irradiation
Flaming our spirites with a mightie fire
Of Seraphin-affection and zeale
To die in vision of her sweet reueale.

I may not be so impious and prophane
As to compare this heauenlie spectacle
To any earthlie pompe, or jollie vaine
Of Cæsars Bride: whose pride is but a cackle
Or as a shaddow in comparison
Of so triumphant and most Virgin-vision.

There on the Temple-pinacle she rested
Gracing, and doubling our sollempne feast
With her in-heauen; And all the while she attested
Both with her glee-full countenance and gest
Gods euerlasting loue vnto the place
And eke her owne against Doblessas race.

At last she gan to waue and wend about
Our sollempne multitude with all her traine
Suspending vs in a delitious doubt
Of some sweet sequell: Our doubt was not in vaine,
For on the suddaine houering ouer vs
She showr'd downe Roses most odoriferous.

Roses both red and white adowne she shewred
From out her virgin-lap, so sweet resenting
As all our sences into sent adiured:
So done; she vanisht, leauing vs a scambling
For such her sweets; I for my part was one
That neuer would giue ouer till all had done.

And still I call'd vpon Elizas name
Thinking those Roses hers, that figure hers,
Vntill such time as Catechrysius came
And pointing me vnto his faithfull teares
(Teares of the zeale he bare t'Elizas name)
He told me No; she was an Esterne Dame.

With that I cast mine eye into the East
Where yet I might discerne the region bright,
Much like as when the Sunne downe in the West
Newly discended, leaues vs of his light
Some Rubie-rellickes after: Oh, deer God
Why made she not with vs more long abod.

Rapt with these woonders, wrapt in virgin-Roses
And faire be-Sioned against misfortune,
I suddainly was gone from these reposes
Sollicited with an especiall importune
Of home-ward zeale, and of Elizas name,
Wherto I bend, and say; God blesse the same.

FINIS.