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[The Courte of Vertu

contaynynge many holy songes, Sonettes, psalmes and ballettes] [by John Hall]

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An exhortation to wrathfull men.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

An exhortation to wrathfull men.

[_]

Syng this as, I am the man whom God, &c.

If wrathe were paynted out
In perfect lyuely hue,
As coulde Apelles in hys lyfe,
Wyth colours fyne and true.
Or as Demosthenes.
Descrybe it coulde with pen:

89

As it is yll it would appere,
Unto these wrathfull men.
Or he that cunnyng had
In metre to recite,
Both soule and body how it noyes,
As sheweth holy write.
Then should these wrathfull men,
That anger wyll sustayne,
Perceaue the incommodities
That therwith doo remayne.
Concernyng body fyrste,
Diseases it doth bryng,
As feuers vyle of euery kynd,
Whiche mortally doo styng.
It causeth phrenesie,
And madnes of the brayne:
Of visage great deformytie,
And palseys this is playne.
Concernyng soule also,
(The whiche is worste of all)
It maketh men blaspheme their frendes,
And euell them to call.
Outrage and wycked othes,
And loue put out of place:
Reuengement is theyr whole desyre
That banysht be from grace.
All benefytes forgot,

[89]

That to thee dyd thy frende:
Obedience true and reuerence,
Wrathe putteth out of mynde.
Wherof succedeth oft,
Contention full of cost:
By trouble and vnquiet mynde,
Thyne appetite is lost.
To scorne dysdeyne and hate,
Ye thynke it is no shame:
All though nothyng can hynder more,
A good report or name.
These wycked fruites of wrathe,
Remember he that can:
Full lytle haste (as I suppose)
To wrathe they would haue than.
Harke and geue eare ye men
That thus to wrath are bent,
Attend a whyle vnto my tune,
And holde your selfe content.
For as thou art a man,
Thynke also so ys he:
With whō thou doest cōceiue such cause,
So wrathfull for to be.
Is it not laufull then,
And as conuenyent,
That he with thee should be as wrathe,
And as muche discontent?

90

Leaue of your wrath therfore,
I saye to you agayne:
Assure your selues that angry men,
Doo alway lyue in payne.
And calle to mynde howe Christ
The sonne of God moste hye:
Whyche in a moment by hys power
Hys enmies myght destroye.
How dyd the Iewes hym greue?
Hauyng no cause wherfore:
Hys most swete face they strake in spight
And buffeted hym sore.
It nothyng irked them,
At hym to spyt in scorne,
Wyth wytnesse wrong accusyng hym,
And crowned hym with thorne.
Hys vertous body lo,
They haled to and fro:
An heauy Crosse on hym they layde,
The more to doo hym wo.
All faultlesse as a lambe,
To suffer deathe he went:
They dyd hys body all to beate,
And yet was he content.
They naylde hym on the crosse,
Thys shoulde we beare in mynde:
Thys suffred he of his good wyll,

[90]

For sauyng of mankynde.
And they that dyd all thes,
As scripture telleth playne,
Were his owne kynne and countreymen,
That put hym to thys payne.
For all whiche hatefull dede.
(As worse there coulde none bee)
Yet to be wrath at any tyme,
No creature coulde hym see.
Thus Christ went vs before
Example vs to geue,
Of mekenes and of pacience,
And godly for to lyue.
Some make excuse and say,
That wrathe is naturall:
To whom I saye of natures power,
Christ lacked none at all.
For Nature neuer was,
The cause of suche abuse,
Nor neuer taught her perfect workes,
Them selues so to mysuse.
For wrathes moste wycked rage,
Is contrary to kynde:
Whiche dothe by accidentall power,
Possesse the wycked mynde.
Yet some wyll say agayne,
(My purpose to asswage)

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That wrathe is vertue in a man,
And token of courage.
I answere that in Christ
Was courage thorow out:
For angels trembled in hys syght,
And dyuels dyd hym dout.
Eche man I truste therfore,
Of ire wyll take good hede:
And folowe Christ wyth pacience,
In worde and eke in dede,
I would not yet ye thought,
My meanyng to be here,
Of zeale, the whych in godly men
Ryght often dothe appere:
As when a wyse man doth
His seruantes fault rebuke,
Or moderatly punyshe hym,
His euell to confute.
Displeasure proprely
This passyon we may call:
Whych yf we vse in discrete wyse,
We doo not synne at all.
As holy wryt recordes,
This hath full oft bene sene.
In Prophets and in holy men.
That God dyd well esteme,

[91]

For Moses in this zeale,
The Tables brake of stone:
In whych God with hys fynger wrote,
His ten precepts eche one.
As Dauid ment when he,
Ryght holyly dyd saye:
Be angery, but doo not synne,
By no maner of way.
It was in Christe also,
(As holy wryt dothe tell:)
When he out of the temple whype
Those that dyd buye and sell.
Within his holy place,
Where nothyng els should be.
But prayer to the lyuyng God,
In secrete that doeth see.
And at an other tyme,
It shewde in hym agayne,
The hypocrites when he rebukt,
As Mathew telleth playne.
This symple song all ye,
That heare or doo it reade:
It is enough to cause you all,
Of wrathe to take good hede.
Of synfull wycked wrathe,
Beware in any wyse:
To all men that haue wyt in store,
Let this as nowe suffyse.

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In hearyng of theyr faultes,
That they may mend them soone.
And after stand at Gods ryght hand,
When they receyue theyr doome.