University of Virginia Library

Preambulation.

If pious Gifts (by curious disquisition)
Prove not the Badg of antique Superstition;
Or if a Rhyme, reduc'd to holy Reason,
May be allovv'd to celebrate the season,
And find admission in a noble heart,
As much as they, vvhose Riches can impart
Gold of Peru, or those admired vvorks,
That spread the Tables of Triumphant Turks.
I hope the low Oblation of a friend
(That only makes your fair esteem his end)
May find (as it deserves) more grace then he
Whose bounty is a Baud to treachery:
My gift is made of Wishes, such as may
(If granted) live with you, when night and day
Admit of no distinction: perfect bliss
Is now my Theam, and that I wish is this.

The New years Gift.

A new Soul blanch'd in sin-dissolving tears,
And pious promises for future years,
Possess your mortal Mansion, may no Times
Witness the guilt of our re-acted crimes:
May you disband your bosom Sins, and be
Atton'd with God's immortal Monarchy:
Although each day ye pay (in sighs and groans)
Your penitential contributions:
May the red Rain vvhich our rude vvrath let fall
In num'rous showres of vengeance National,
Be all wash'd out, and may Religious fame
In England, bear but one celestial Name:
May all those desperate distinctions that
Have made out Island much unfortunate,
Be so composed by Religious Laws,
That rigour may no more dispute the Cause:
For (I confess to my intelligence,
That hath relation but to common sense)
It is a Paradox, that all the wise
Holy and Learned in large Misteries,
Of Church and State, that in convention sit
Crown'd with the Genius of a Nation's wit,
With all the aids that Art and Nature can
Contract within the circuit of man,
Should flight the Helm and let the peoples fate
Be left unto the rageing stormes of state;
Such is a Civil War, whose fury vents
Artillery, instead of Arguments;
As if the Holy Ghost (Spirit of Love)
That once descended like a Turtle Dove:
Should now resigne his function, and appeare
Like a devouring Vulture: may this yeare
Register no such Apparitions, but
May all tranquility (that God e're put
Into the Power of Union, on a Nation
Receiv'd to Grace by true Humiliation)
Fall on your Souls, may a New Spring of tears
Renew your Graces, Health, Wealth, Beauty, Years:
And may your fair Posterity nere know
The wild Confusion of our moderne woe;
May Peace and verity (conjoyn'd in Glory)
Crown the Conclusion of our tragick Story,
May Schism sink, and Truth be held supream,
(Whose Robe of Sanctity hath nere a seam)
And let that foole which well deserves the Rod,
For saying in his heart there is no God;
Be better principl'd, for he speakes Treason,
Not onely 'gainst Religion but Reason:
May the gross mists of error be dispel'd,
That curious heresies (so hotly held)
May be display'd, for then the radiant Bèams
Of righteousness vvill dissipate their dreams.
Let nothing enter in your hearts, but vvhat
The Holy Spirit doth communicate
By sacred Law and Gospel; vvhat is vvrit
In them, vve must obey, vvhat not, omit:
May you be charitable, yet live free
From my Popish censure; may you be
Fil'd with firm faith, not that vvhich yeelds the Turks
Preheminence, before ye in good werks:
May you believe, God's stock of mercy is
Larger then all mens crimes, yet let not this
Possess ye vvith such vvarrant of salvation,
To think one sin may not destroy a Nation:
May you believe that the Apostles Creed
(Which some late Novelists forbear to read)
Is of such povver, that you vvithout it are
Farther from bliss, then Saints from Civil War.
Let God's ovvn Prayer be your daily task,
For it contains all that vve ought to ask:
Those deprecations sum up every want,
And vvhatsoever God is pleas'd to grant:
Sure that Petition cannot be ill vvrit,
When he that made it, means to answer it.
Let the bright Gospels Exposition be
A Lock and Key to its ovvn mystery:
What Scripture hath begun, let Scripture finish,
Who comments false, doth both add and diminish;
Which is a fearful crime, may you be free
From such transgression, may Divinity
Illuminate your Intellect; may no
Fallacious disputations overthrow
The Pillars of your Piety, or make
The Fundamentals of your Faith to shake.
When these effects (for which I pray) appear,
You will confess it is a good New-year;
For if all come to pass which I have said,
'Tis the best New years-Gift that e're you had.

On forgetfulness in holy Duties.

Forgetfulness can be no Plea for folly,
For God commands, Remember thou keep holy.

On the Heart.

Our God requireth the whole heart, or none,
And yet he will accept a Broken one.

On rash Iudgment.

Call not thy Brother Reprobate, for sure
Where God wil heal, there is no wound past cure.

On an Evil Tongue.

The Tongue as wel as Hand, deep wounds affords,
Ther's but one Letter betwixt Swords and words.

A Dialogue betwixt the Flesh, and the Spirit.

Fle.
Come prethee leave this reading; let me hear
Some jests, or wanton tales, then shall my ear
Be link'd unto your Oratory, now
I am so dull, and drowsie, that (I vow)
I can no more give audience, what dost call
This petty Book thou art so pleas'd withall?

(Spi.)
It is the cure of souls, and it contains
Our life or death, our glory, or our pains.
Here's the great Law of God, where man may view
What he ought most to covet, most eschew;
The glass of purity, where mighty Kings
Behold their bodies to be earthen things;
And (with the wisest wise man) lowdly cry,
All worldly honors are but vanity:
Here is thy first Creation, where 'tis shown
How thou and I first met, and joyn'd in one;
This shews the state we liv'd in, how we were
Blest with the plenty of a pregnant year
The Husbandman nere toyl'd for: there we knew
No hate, no strife, nor where black Malice grew:
We had no envious Neighbours, but were free
From doing, or receiving injury;
The Beasts were made your subjects; and as true
Unto each other, as they were to you:
They had no Civil Wars, no envy neither,
For Wolves & Lambs might eat their meat together:
They liv'd secure within their proper holes,
And Lions did disdain to tread on Moles:
This was thy Paradise, where all was free
Unto thy use, but one excluded Tree;
Where thou hadst liv'd till now, had Gods Command
Prevail'd with thee before the womans hand:
Under what misery doth poor man groan,
When as the flesh must suffer for the bone?
This is the Bible which I read; by this
I hope to tread the perfect path to bliss.

Fle.
What kind of bliss I pray?

Spi.
Heaven.

Fle.
What's that?

Spi.
A City built fot the Regenerate:
So scituate, that neither Sun nor Moon
Need rise or sot to make it night or noon:
They both are useless, light and brightness there,
Are not confin'd in Centre, or in Sphere:
Each Angel's face is more resplendent fair,
Then Phœbus when he guilds the Western Ayr:
The sacred Citizens do never fear
The furious famine of a fruitless year,
They live in such sweet plenty; and where none
Need fly the City from infection;
Ther's no defraud, no greedy great man plyes
The good Kings ear for base Monopolies,
For his peculiar gain; the poorer sort
Nere suffer for the Riot of the Court.
This is that place of Bliss, who more would know,
Must first crave Faith, he may believe it so:

Fle.
The place is fraught with Glory; there is more
Essential joy, then I e're heard before:
But, tell me one thing (pray) May we not there
Enjoy our Mistrisses, as we do here?
Kiss and imbrace them? May we not drink high?
Swagger and roar?

Spi.
No, 'tis Impiety.
'Tis that which ruines Earth; when you are there
You'l feel no spark of such prophane desire,
That's no true heaven, but a fained one,
By Mahomet in his black Alcoron.

Fle.
Thou know'st (dear Spirit) that I long have lov'd
Fair Jesabel.

Spi.
An Harlot most ayprov'd.

Fle.
A sweet unblemish'd Beauty, in each eye
An Angel sits.

Spi.
Beware Idolatry.

Fle.
Shall I not meet her there?

Spi.
Yes, if from me
Ye both will take advice.

Fle.
Most willingly.

Spi.
Repent.

Fle.
What's that?

Spi.
A thing ye both must know;
Or els nor you, nor she can thither go:
Joyn both your hands, then (with as great desire
As e're ye met) disjoyn, part, and retire:
Weep, sigh, and wring your hands, not that ye part,
But 'cause ye met together.

Fle.
Oh! my heart!

Spi.
It must be done, then to your Chambers goe
To Kneele, and Pray ye may continue so;
Now she seems fair, but then you'l think her fowle
As is an Ethiop, both in face and Soul.

Fle.
Not for a thousand worlds, these Eyes I weare
I cherish, 'cause they tell me she is faire;
For nothing I adore th' Omnipotence
Of my Creator, more then this one sence,
Which shewes her Beauty, and so much I prize,
That I could wish all sences e'ls were Eyes:
Had Argus seen this object, Sleep had never
Gave Hermes power to make him sleep for ever:
Not though his oaten reed were as acute,
In Art and sweetness as Apollo's Lute;
When underneath his lovely Daphne he
Sate sweetly warbling forth her Elegie.

Spi.
He vvhom you do adore, for that one sence
Dispos'd it not unto that End, from thence
Nere came an ill effect, He nere gave eyes
To be adult'rate vvith Idolatryes.

Fle.
Novv let thy resolution be as free
To answer one thing I shall question thee;
I'le tell thee hovv thy Counsell thrives.

Spi.
Say on,
I freely grant thee my attention.

Fle.
'Tis thus then, may not some familiar friend
Conveigh my mind in Letters?

Spi.
To vvhat end?
'Tis ill to think on her, vvould you reveale
Your sinfull thoughts, under your Hand and Seale?
Think (when you are a happy Convert) how
The fatal Legend will discourage you.

Fle.
Then Iesabel farewel; Oh! how her Name
Creates in me an unexpiring flame,
'Tis a strange Riddle I should part with thee,
And from thy presence find felicity,
A thing I will not credit, therefore cease
Vain Spirit; so to interrupt the peace
'Twixt me and my fair Love, I will be gone
To reunite my first affection:
Tell fools your tales of heaven, all is hell,
That doth not appertain to Iesabel.

Spirit alone.

Thus am I daily hurried to and fro,
From vice to vice, still am I forc'd to go
With him to each lewd practise, Thou whose might
Is most Omnipotent and infinite,
Send me a guard of vertues, such as are
Perfect, and powerful for a Civil War.
Faith, thou shalt be my General, and lead
My warlike Troops, thou on sure ground dost tread:
Let us march on then, victory is sure,
When as the Lord of Hosts makes all secure;
Prepare thee Flesh, I come to war, not woo,
Although thou bring the world and Divel too;
And e're this sacred Battel we conclude,
Thy might, or mine, or both, shall be subdu'd.

An Acrostich on my very worthy friend Mr. MARKE WARD.

May all the real joys that can appear
Within the Circle of the next new year
Attend your wish; may no true pleasures be
Above the reach of your capacity:
Religion guard your Conscience, may your health
Replenish; may you wallow in your Wealth:
Knowledg support you, may you never vow
Divided Love; and whensoever you
Enter the List of Wedlock; may that prize
Be loving, vertuous, young, rich, fair, and wise.

An Epitaph in an Acrostich, composed on the Name of his vertuous Sister Mrs. Joane Ward.

Jn this plain piece of humble earth lies one,
Whom no unworthy feet should tread upon,
One whose chast life did very much improve
A Daughters duty, and a Sisters love:
Almighty God was still her contemplation,
Religion was her daily recreation;
Nothing came in her Maiden thoughts that cou'd
Defile the Fountain of her Virgin Bloud;
Eternal joys contain her now; let's then
Mourn, until we meet with her agen.

An Elegiack, in a double Acrostich, sacred to the memory of the most truly vertuous Mrs. Margaret Jessop,

VVife to the much honoured William Jessop Esq. who deceased the first of November, 1651.

Mourn, or depart, for they whose cheeks be dry,
Are not for our confluent CompanI
All that we talk is tears; and when we see
One smile, we look upon't like HeresiE
Reader, within this Marble Mansion lyes
A motive would make tears in Tyrants eyeS
Grief would becom their Mistriss, they would dress
Themselves in nothing but unhappinesS
All the small vertues God did e're bestow
On Woman-kind, lyes here in FoliO
Religion was her Pilot, and her prop,
From whose sententious tongue did always droP
Eternal Language; such as Angels sip
In sighs and Prayers from a Convert's LiP
To speak her larger, he that further dives,
Must Summon in all the Superlatives.

The CHARACTER of a Corrupt States-Man, that is solely devoted to Selfe-Ends, But pretends to Piety.

A Corrupt Statist is a thing in whom
There is contract all Evill that can come:
The soule of Satan in a Saint's disguise,
The grand Elixir of Hypocrisies:
The secret Issue of long-lurking spight,
The Prince of darknesse in a robe of light.
His tongue is tipt with Mercy, but his Maw
(If he be mov'd) disgorgeth Golgotha:
He is the root of Ruine, Mischief's Mint,
The Alcharon put in Geneva print;
The saddest object Peace can fix her eyes on,
Whose Prayers are Pistolls, and his Tears are Poyson;
He hath (if the old Maxime doe not misse)
Judas his soule by Metempsychosis:
And (that it may profoundly be undone)
Can kisse a Country to confusion:
To that point where Ambition doth conduct,
All Evil shall assist, no Bloud obstruct:
He is the Peoples Servant in esteem,
But (in effect) they are all Slaves to him:
He hath a vayle to varnish every vice
He doth commit, but monstrous Avarice;
That sin is so gygantick, all his wit
(Put in pretences) cannot cover it:
As Æsop's Cat transform'd into a Maid,
Sate simpering at Supper, unbetray'd,
Till (by unusuall chance) a Mouse she saw
Crosse ore the Board, then she began to claw:
So is his nature sleek'd with soft applause,
Till Pride or Profit make him spread his Pawes:
From him all sly dissimulations issue,
His loyns bear Sack-cloth when his heart wears tissue.
He seemes to pray and unto God alone,
Though (in his heart) he doth beleeve there's none.
Where he bears rule, that Nation needs no Rod,
He is a Devill in the Name of God.
Attend, and you shall heare him (though in brief)
Rehearse the Articles of his Belief.

The Politician in Person.

The Author.

This is his Creed, and all that do oppose
This (although God and Angels) are his Foes;
But stay (if Fansie faile not) sure I see
A reverend Doctor in Theologie,
Approach his Presence, who doth look upon
His Pride, with holy indignation:
If he do speak to him, we soon shall see
How Policy and Piety agree.

The Doctor.

Proud Polititian, whither wilt thou flye
With thy imperious Impiety?
Dost think a Cable made of twisted sands
Can Anchor thee against Almighty hands?
Dar'st thou believe thy Machivillian Arts
Can vaile thee from the searcher of all Hearts?
He doth make war against Gods sacred seat,
Who treads upon the good to make him Great:
The Civil War of Heaven did foretell,
Men shall not rise by that which Angels fell:
Methinks those Powers thy strength hath overthrown,
Should tell thee so obnoxious are thy own;
What man is he that can in such Seas swim,
Where one or other dares not follow him,
And sink him too? In our Morality
We take it for an Axiom, that he
Who pulls Superiors down, to raise his fame,
Shewes his own Servants how to doe the same:
If this will not suffice, but still your eye
Mounts to (that Sphere of Mischief) Majesty;
Look on Eternity, and well revise
The vile Gradations, which make such men rise:
The usuall steps of Corrupt States-men are
Envy, Pride, Wealth, Hypocrisie, and Warre,
Covetousnesse, Oppression, Tyranny:
And all these cemented with Perjury,
Painted with Piety, but how they are
In opposition, Scripture will declare.

Envy.

Pride.

Riches.

Hypocrisie.

Warre.

Covetousnesse.

Oppression.

Tyranny.

Perjurie.

[Thus have I shewn the nature of those sinnes]

The Doctor.

Thus have I shewn the nature of those sinnes
That move his imploration, who begins
To wear forbidden Purple, without these
He cannot sayl thorough the swelling seas
Of Princes Power, and Popular applause;
For though he beare Religion and the Lawes
In his Main top, yet shall his Anchor be
Cast in the ooes of self-security.
Envy stirrs us, Pride prompts, Riches invite,
Hypocrisie calls faction to the fight.
Warre wins the victory, Covetousnesse.
Sayes ye must begger those whom ye suppress.
Oppression, and grim Tyranny proclaime
A legall Conquest in the victors Name,
Which Perjurie will justifie, this tract
Doth lead him to the end of the fourth Act:
What shall ensue, that Power can onely tell
Whose Love, and Vengeance doth fill Heav'n and Hell.

The Author.

A sad Conclusion if this Composition
Be the ingredients of a Poltitian;
Lord let my spirit flye with humble wings,
And I shall be able to pity Kings.

On Ambition.

When bold Ambition seeks a Nation's ruine,
Pride little thinks what vengeance is a brewing.

On Peace.

The People cry aloud when warres encrease,
They must needs cry that cannot hold their peace.

On these Civill Warres.

God is the Potter, we the Pots, dear Brother,
Tis sin that breaks us one against another.

On our Saviour, his being called the Carpenter.

Christ was, they say, a Carpenter by birth,
But a great Workman; He built Heaven & Earth.

A Paraphrase upon the Pater Noster

To an unnaturall Elder Brother that beguiled him of his Portion.

Well may a strangers fatall hand annoy us,
When our own Bloud conspireth to destroy us;
Hadst thou no other way to gaine from me
The livelyhood of my Posterity,
But by a Fathers sudden fall, to raise
Thy riches from the dust of my decayes?
It is not well, nor can have good event,
For 'tis an ill exceeds all precedent.
Jacob had Esau's Birth-right, but he gave
Him Porrage for his Portion, thou wouldst have
All mine for nothing; dost thou think that God's
Justice can prosper such unequall odds?
Or dost thou think that Yonger Brothers have
No title, but to Ruine, and the Grave?
You are deceived, and you ere long will be
Mistaken in my Birth-right, as in Me.
To force a Brothers Right (if understood)
Is like the taking of a Brothers Blood.

An Allarme in 1645.

An Elegy and Epitaph composed on the death of an Infant Lady.

Great King of Golgotha, grim God of fears,
Whose Throne is made of thirsty Sepulchers,
That (by the vertue of thy cold commands)
Destroy'st more lives, then there be stars or sands,
From vvhose cadaverous imbraces, none
Are free'd until the Resurrection;
Attend my Summons (for the powers divine
Decree, that I must one day bow to thine)
And tell me why thou hast imploy'd that dart
Which perforated Alexanders heart
Upon this Infant Lady? whose fair eyes
Could not but quell the keenest cruelties,
The fiercest Tyrant that red Ireland bears,
Might have been conquer'd with one smile of hers:
Her dumb complaints would have wrought more contrition,
Then all the reason of the best Logitian.
Do but consider death what thou hast done
Upon our Albion Isle since Forty one;
Remember who have suffer'd by thy frown
These ten years, 'twixt the Cottage and the Crown;
What souls are fled, will not all these suffice,
But thou wilt deal in Cradle cruelties?
Methinks the mother of that fragrant bud
(As fruitful in her vertue as her bloud)
Might have prevail'd with thee, but oh I see
No reason can reduce thy tyranny,
Therefore wee'l stop the floud of further Passion
With this Celestial consideration;
That though thou hast tore off her fleshly clothing,
Her Soul shall be a Saint, when thou art nothing.

On the event of these Wars betwixt the Dutch and English.

Some are such silly Statists, that they wish
Our English loss may fill the Dutchman's dish;
But most of them (I know) be such as are
A suffering Party in our Civil War:
I feel the same disease too, but would never
Exchange an Ague for a Burning Feaver.

On those women, who pretend that poverty provoketh to in chastity.

Shall poverty destroy us? Is the mind
(The noble temper of the soul) confin'd
To such a baseness, that we cannot be
Our selves, unless we hug prosperity?
Shall we confess an Hell? conceit withall,
There is an Heaven, where the Angelical
Receive immortal joy? Shall we believe
It vvas ordain'd for poor ones, such as grieve
In a continual vvant? and hourly groan
Under the burthen of affliction?
And shall vve be so senseless to agree,
That vertuous souls can fall by poverty?
Tell me, intemperate creatures, in vvhat state
Did ye salute the vvorld at first? vvhat rate
Were your gay garments priz'd at, vvhen you cry'd
For needful coverture, no Robes for pride?
When as the pregnant brest gave more content
Then the profusest Banquets ye have spent,
Usher'd vvith Wine and Musique? when nor wit,
Nor best inventions could your Pallat fit?
When all your learned Cooks could not retain
Sufficient Art to vvast your vvealth in vain?
But novv the Spring of riot is dravvn dry,
Ye cannot as you vvould; true poverty
Contents it self vvith nought, and scorns to raise
A vvretched riches by sinister vvayes:
Yet this recalls not you, but makes you guess
Ye have a warrant for your wickedness,
For when some virtuous Soul desires to see
The Cause ye have, you shew your Poverty,
And som small charge of Children, which you say
You must provide for 'gainst their Marriage day:
Thus, fed by vice, they live, when they'r at Age,
Tis your damnation, proves their Heritage:
Admit your care be less, that y'are beguil'd
The procreated Blessing of a child,
Your Cause is so much lesser, will you give
Your pretious Soul to make one Body live?
Sure your kind Parents were not so unwise
As not to teach your hands some mysteries,
To keep your Body spotless, and preserve
Your Soule, which (of the two's most like to starve)
Endeavour then, they'r poor beyond all fear,
That are not worth the flesh and blood they wear;
Tell me (ye pitied Spectacles of woe)
How will your pride, and your rich rayment show,
When as your sordid Suitors shall proclaim
Ye won them by an Act ye dare not name?
When they shall tell their neighb'ring Lechers how
They wrought upon your willingness, and shew
(In their rank Ribaldry) how hot and high
Your wantonness advanc'd their luxury?
Who will conceit such a lewd thing as this
Did e're know chastity? or that there is
So great a vertue resident? or think
She ever priz'd it, that thus low could sink?
Not I, believe me, I'le as soon allow
Poyson and Balm may from one issue flow;
For she whom want will make a Wanton, doth
Make foul Adultery the Nurse of Sloth.

The Proselite.

To the much honored Pair, and most pious Preservers of Love and Loyalty in Wedlock, Mr. Nathaniel Lownes Merchant Adventurer, &c. and the perfect Patern of Vertue Mrs. Melior Lownes his beloved Consort.

My Muse salutes ye both, who to your worth
Devotes her love, and holds my service forth.
All happiness that the Celestial Powers
Ordain for men, wait upon you and yours.
Treasure, long life, love, liberty, and myrth
Dwell with ye, till ye find heaven upon earth;
True Concord be your guide, and may no passion
On either side, provoke a separation.
In medio consistit virtus; vve
Find in your loves a meliority:
(Which is most permanent) what is belovv
That, or above it, is too fast, or slow:
Health, peace, and plenty, vvith all joyes that can
Add vigour to the noble soul of man;
Erect your spirits, may ye never be
Expos'd to any infelicity;
But may that God, vvhich hath heaven for his home,
Guide you in this vvorld, and the vvorld to come.

On Reason.

Wouldst thou have all things subject unto thee?
Be subject then to Reasons Monarchy;
Thou shalt be Conqueror of many, if
Reason may be thy Governor in chief:
Wouldst thou command a little world? then be
King of thy self, 'tis a safe Soveraignty.

On Henry the VIII.

Harry the VIII. as story saith,
Was a King so unjust,
He nere did spare man in his vvrath,
Nor vvoman in his lust.

An Epigram on one, who said, He liv'd by his wits.

Pamphlet last vveek in his fantastique fits,
Was ask'd hovv he did live, He said, By's wits:
Pamphlet I see vvill tell lyes by the Clock,
Hovv can he live upon so poor a stock?

On Ribaldry.

Of all detested vices, none (to me)
Appears more vain then verbal Ribaldry:
For he who to such talk his mind doth bend,
Is like that dog, vvhose tail is at's tongues end.

Good Wits may Jump.

A Good Wit brought unto a Stationer
A Manuscript, that so he might prefer
His volume to the Press; but e're that he
Could make a Bargain for his Poesie,
The Book-seller (whose aimes were for his profit)
Desires the Author he would read some of it;
The Writer reads some six or seven leaves,
Which having done, the Stationer conceives
That it was old, and strait begins to look
(As memory led him) in a printed book,
Lays it before our Author on the board,
And reads the Transcript to him word for word:
The Puet puzled at it, 'gins to pump
For an excuse, and cryes, Good Wits may Jump.

On a School-Master.

A Country Pedant of soul soft and silly,
(Whose reading nere exceeded William Lilly
In's Ranks and Files of Substantives) began
His Brags to a more learned Countryman,
And said, he took a Child the other day,
From women-tutors, which (e're long) should say
His Grammer Rules by heart, and (in two years)
He'd make him a good Scholar; th' other fleers,
And tuswers him agen, Come Doctor, come,
You know that Charity begins at home.

An Elegy and Epitaph on the deplored death of the much worthy William Barklay Esquire, one of the Aldermen of the City of London; dedicate to Mr. Hen. Barklay.

Stay, and release my wonder! you that can
Resolve what may compleat a perfect man
So absolute, that future times may well
Admire at, but shall never parallel;
Let him be wise and learn'd, his better part
Be richly furnish'd with transcendent Art;
Let Nature be his friend, and in his mind
Let vertues choice indovvments be refin'd:
He vvill come short of him, whose body lyes
At this time floating in his Mourners eyes;
For in this Monument is one in whom
Faith, Hope, and Charity took up their room;
One who hath gather'd vertues (since his birth)
Enough to crovvn a man in heaven and earth;
When acts of equity were in his trust,
He ever vvas both merciful and just;
The poor he pitied, but his soul vvould nere
To vitious greatness turn Idolater:
He had (indeed) a heart vvhich the vvorst times
Could never tempt to profitable crimes;
His thoughts vvere pure, his actions free, his store
Was made a good Exchequer for the poor;
Though envy oft on vertue doth attend,
He forced envy's self to be his friend:
By this the knowing Reader well may see
The brittle State of best mortality:
Let man be nere so perfect in his parts,
And have the accomplishments of all the Arts,
Though he live long and well, yet shall he have
No earthly gratulation, but a grave:
Forbear more words (my phantsie) thou'rt too weak,
Great griefs are silent, whil'st small sorrows speak:
Although his body sleep, till the day come
Shall reunite him to his antient home;
His soul is mounted on Seraphick wings,
Unto the Mansion of the King of Kings.

The Epitaph.

On Intemperance.

He that devotes himself to wrath, or wine,
Is not his own friend, and can nere be mine.

On pious Poverty.

None but a vicious rich man will defie
The low estate of pious poverty.

On vain delights.

In seeking to obtain delights we lose 'um,
Dalila's lap leads not to Abrahams bosom.

On the Eucharist.

See the wide difference 'twixt wine and grace,
One warms the Spirit, tother fires the face.
So he whose faith drinks oth' Communion Bowl,
Shall feel the inflammation in his soul.

The material substance of our Creed contracted in twelve lines.

I do believe in God, Lord of Creation,
And in his Son Christ Jesus (our Salvation)
Conceived by the Holy Ghost, (who did
Both from the Father and the Son proceed)
Born of the Virgin Mary's womb, and died
A cruel death, by Pilat crucified;
Was dead and buried, did descend, and on
The third day rise on earth, next to his Throne;
From thence he'l come to Judgment; I believe
One Church, one Spirit, and I do conceive
Saints have Communion, Reprobates rejection,
Sins pardon, soul and body's Resurrection.

The ten Commandements in ten lines.

God spake these words, and said I am thy God,
That brought thee from the power of Egypts rod,
And thou shalt have no other Gods but me,
Thou shalt not worship any Imagery;
Thou shalt not take my sacred Name in vain,
The holy Sabbath day thou shalt maintain;
Honor thy Parents, and thy daies I'le further
With length and plenty, Thou shalt do no murther:
Thou shalt no vile Adultery commit,
Thou shalt not steal, no nor purloin (by wit)
Thou shalt not bear false witness 'gainst thy Neighbor,
Nor covet what is his (by right, or labour.)

The happy estate of the Blessed,

Matth. 5,

The wretched estate of the cursed,

Deut. 27.