University of Virginia Library

Even in the time, when ioy and sorrow met,
When present woe, did present ioy beget.
When eyes, and hearts, did make an equall choise,
To weepe, to mourne, to triumph, and reioyce:
When heauen tooke hence, and yet vnto vs sent
Most cause of griefe, and cause of most content:
Then in that strange, worst, best, and happiest time,
A Souldier sung, Loues song, in vnsmooth'd time.
Yet by his words, it might be plainely seene,
He prais'd the vertues of a maiden Queene.
Whose Maiestie in glory now excelling,
Leaues glories fame on earth, to keepe her dwelling;
A poore mans loue, her grace would well requite,
But now poore men, in vaine Loues songs indite.
The Muse by whom, her vertues most are prais'd,
Shall least thereby, from woe to weale be rais'd.
When matchlesse worth, is wrapt in leaues of lead,
The liuing, they forget the worthiest dead.
No vertue can, it selfe continuance giue,
It is the pen, that makes all vertues liue,
And pennes I know, will mount her praise so high,
That in this world, her fame shall neuer die.
My lines alas, from worth do differ farre,
I do confesse, they most vnworthy are:
And yet my loue aswell desir'd to sing,
The praises of the worlds admir'd King:
A Souldiers wish, I am sure, wisht all things well,
His wish, his want, did in strange sort compell.
Yet he resolu'd; A Resolution fram'd,
For which (gainst him) Gods foes haue chiefly aim'd.
A traytrous speech, which might not be conceald,
Hee's, hated most, by whom it was reueald.
Hate, Scorne, Despight, wrong done to honest action,
Then out of rule are such disordered fractions.
Though men not gaine, when well to do they choose,
It's hard when men for doing well shall loose.
But poore to be, if thence proceeds the cause,
Hard world, when poore, must feed proud enuies iawes.
Hence doth proceed sad woes, aboundant sorrow,
Not knowing whence, it might contentment borrow.
To the poore mans King, a poore mans plaint shall flie,
And thus complaine, vnto his Maiesty.

The poore mans breast, in seas of sorrow tost,
For shipwracke lookes, hopes ankers all are lost.
Oh where is mercie, doth the poore man aske,
On earth to finde, it were a wondrous taske.
The word alone, is easie to be found,
But as a word, it hath no more then sound.
Contempt, and scorne, extortion, Enuies rage,
They florish best, in this remorceles age.
The poore may say, feeling oppressions wrong,
That fewe or none, will sing King Dauids song.
This rotten world, doth painted garments weare,
Leaues without fruit, professions name doth beare.
Blest charity, diuine religions grace,
Now stearu'd to death, hath but a pictures place.
Celestiall Loue, the goulden chaine of piety,
Is turn'd to lust, and cloth'd in sinnes variety.
Friendships best shew, deceipt and fraud doth cloake,
Dissembling friends, are wrapt in flatteries smoake.
Plaine dealyng men, that honest plainnesse vse,
Them to vphold, doth euery hand refuse.
Clam Clawback he, with Peter Pick-thankes stands,
To reape reward, euen from the worthiest hands.
Faire words feedes fooles, best wise men are misled,
Euen by that baite, wherewith most fooles are fed.
Wel, wil they speake, whose thoughts are wōdrous euil,
In words a Sainct, in deedes, a monstrous deuill.
Who doth desire worlds wise ones to resemble,
Must learne by art, with cunning to dissemble,
He that is not, beyond all compasse hollow,
His wit is grosse, and his inuention shallow.
Good policie, hath lost commended vse,
Bad politicks, boast, in that words abuse.
A faithles wit, is wisdome which excelles,
They are best wise, that most are Mashiuels.
Wisedome it selfe, it selfe doth much disgrace,
When as it striues, a shadow to imbrace.
As if that men should here for euer liue,
So they themselues vnto the world do giue.
Poore men that in this world, do want worlds wealth,
Are sure to want, loue, friends, meat, drinke, clothes, health
This prouerb liues, each for himselfe cries all,
Great heapes thereby, from heauen to hell do fall.
The poore man thus, this world his tourne doth serue,
Steale, and be hang'd, or mourning, sigh and starue.
Wet eyes, sad hearts, poore men opprest and greeued,
May liue, or die, vnpittied, vnreleeued.
Great wealth that holdes, euill gotten riches fast,
Will not his bread, vpon the water cast.
Sadly poore men, may mourne their wretched thrall,
Whilst rich men add, more bitternesse to gal.
Proudly, rich pompe (with proudnesse) pride adorneth,
Proud wealth, the poore mās poorenes, proudly scorneth
Poore, poorely sits, his pouerty deploring,
Wealth (as his God) sits heapes of durt adoring.
What old Churles gets, by extortious vsury,
Young fooles do spend, in pride and luxury.
Vaine, Vainest, Vainnesse, Vanity doth nourish,
In silke and golde, vaine ones doe vainely flourish.
Experience tels, Prides painted prodigalitie,
Hath cut the throat, of wonted hospitality.
The poore mans want, no painted Pecock feeles,
Poore soules must not come nere Prides waggon wheels.
Silkes must be worne, what price so ere they cost,
Three suites perhaps, ere once the booke be crost.
Proud female felts, are like the Ostridge plum'd,
And Souldiers now, by chamber warres consum'd.
Such in their caps must gallant feathers weare,
Who in their hearts do such like lightnesse beare:
Nature; no Art, beautifies the blood
As faire, as sweete, both artificiall good.
Muske, Ciuit, and Imbrothery, high priz'd vaine,
Hath charity, with Prides corruption slaine.
Pride hath so much a decent forme forsooke,
As now proud heads through gridiron ribs must looke.
So much is lou'd the tricks of French attire,
As many are more Frencht then they desire.
Pripe puppet-like in Female folly flings,
with a good gownes charge, in one vaine paire of wings.
worlds pompe, worlds wrack, worlds woe, worlds misery
Pride, not content to goe, gets wings to flie.
Court, Prides deuise, our gentry imitates,
The Cittie follows, each, each ruinates.
The yoemans name, proud minds will not allow,
All Gentles, Knights, Ladies or Beggers now.
Pride beares that wealth, vpon presumptions back.
That makes the poore, so much releife to lack.
Italian tricks haue rays'd the auncient rent,
In idle Pompe must be most bounty spent.
Gay Cloathes, Rich Plate, fine Houses, Iewells, Rings,
To publique weale, pale deaths consumption brings.
Pride, to defend base proud ambitions fort,
A Cotage makes to seeme a princely Court.
Now to maintaine the pompe of thriftles sending,
Each subtill braine must be in Law contending.
A hurtfull swarme of hungry trencher-flies,
To fat themselues, can wrangling trickes deuise.
With foggy sweat, the Lazie lubbers toyle,
Desir's to feede vpon his countries spoile.
Oh were they Tith'd, and all the Nienths cast by,
Each tenth would serue to labour honestly.
Their wits can make such wondrous heapes their owne,
As molehills are to mighty mountaines growne.
Wealthes current in a three-fold streame doth runne,
Two flouds are past, the third not yet begunne,
The Clergie first, the Lawier next getts much,
The end of time will make the Souldier rich.
Goods by deceipt, cunning, fraud and wrong,
Togither scrapt, will not continue long.
The mother Church, lockt vp a goulden store,
To feede it selfe, and to relieue the poore.
That bountie which did vnto all sorts giue,
Fatts but a fewe, the most must poorely liue.
Wealth which it selfe did to good vse dispose,
Now serues to paint an idle veluet hose.
The stock growne poore, which should maintaine good preachers,
Makes Coblers now to seeme sufficient teachers.
All sorts can prate and talke of things diuine,
In fewe or none a righteous life doth shine.
Braue plumed gallants, made gay with silken suites,
On Gods pure word, amongst their cups disputes.
A tauerne, dice, wine, sugar, and a wench,
Much loue to them doth good deuotion quench.
The Papail sea, doth thinke good workes doe merite,
The Protestant his faith must heauen inherite.
For to euill vse, one doth good workes deuise,
The other doth good workes, to vse despise.
Time past, did to the world, this truth reueale,
A blinde deuotion, hindered faithfull zeale.
Time present doth, this truth for certaine show,
Least good we doe, when most we seeme to know.
The Heathen men did so themselues incline,
That Stoycks seem'd (then we) farre more diuine.
Amongst them was, the law of mine and thine,
With better faith, though in a faithlesse time.
They seru'd their Gods, with a religious care,
And did their lawes obey, with trembling feate.
The God of Gods, to vs in truth declar'd,
We liue, as though, nor heauen, nor hell we fear'd.
Ierusalem, men seeme as if they sought,
But going wrong, they are to Babell brought,
Some fooles doe thinke, to finde the way by chance,
And thither runne, as in a Morrice daunce.
Some at a play, haue wisely more discern'd,
Then euer they, at any Sermon learn'd.
Who from the Stage, would fetch heauens admonitions
Let Woodcocks be, vnto those fooles Phisitions.
By-wayes to seeke, and tread in pathes vneuen,
Such trauailers nere finde the way to heauen.
No shadow can, substanciall hope beguild,
If on Gods word, faith doth arightly build.
In building new, men vse such curious cost,
As that the most, haue best foundation lost.
Some thinke such power, in them remaineth still,
As Gods commandements, breake and keepe they will;
But if there did, such strength in vs remaine,
God then should vse, saluations meanes in vaine.
What Adam lost, all humane race did lose,
And what he kept, that for our part we chose.
Will, to do good, that force in Adam died,
Since when, that grace was to his seed denied.
So in our selues, sinne euery action staines,
That to do good, in vs no power remaines.
From Heauen, where God doth in his glory dwell,
By Adams fall, he and his children fell,
And when to rise, no meanes at all they knew,
The promisd seede, did Death, and hell subdue.
We are restor'd by our Redeemers hand,
Not of ourselues, but by his grace we stand.
Then let the soules, of righteous men expresse,
That in their Christ, doth liue their righteousnesse.
I sigh to heare some vilde ones, vildly say,
That vnto life or death, foredoomd are they,
A soule drownde vp, in hellish desperation,
Saith he beleeues in Gods predestination.
Or heauen, or hell, or well, or euill to do,
He hath or doth, what hee's ordaind vnto.
Taught by the deuil, falsely affirme he can,
Without Gods will, ther's nothing done by man.
Our knowledge hath, brought forth infections fruite,
When hell-borne impes, dares thus like deuils dispute.
Eares stopt, and hearts, with burning Irons sear'd,
As fuell are for Gods fierce wrath prepar'd.
Who thinkes of sinne that God the author is,
Shall be exempt from Gods eternall blisse.
The strength of Gods vncomprehended state,
Is that whereby we are predestinate.
Yet doth he suffer, what he doth not will,
Wherein his Power is vndeuided still.
The euill we doe, he willes not to be done,
For in our selues that cause is first begun:
God by his Grace, doth so mans soule attend,
As that we know what tis for to offend.
If euill we doe, and shall his grace reiect.
The fault is ours, for done by our neglect.
Heauens iustice then, most iustly doth dispence,
Presumptuous sinne, is a most damn'd offence.
Doe well, and then in Christ thy deeds are knowne,
Doe euill, and sinne, is in thy selfe thine owne.
Be not deceiu'd, good workes thy faith must proue;
For God in Christ doth all good actions loue.
Christ dyed for me, so each beleeuer saith,
As Infidels are men of fruitlesse faith.
Profession fie, it doth too much dissemble,
Not vsing that which most Christ doth resemble.
Where are the hands which should poore creatures cherish
Christ saues not those that lets his members perish?
Do good to them that of faiths houshold be,
No, the world delights their greatest wants to see.
On earth alas, to whom should poore men flie,
In vaine their words tels forth their misery.
Honor which should the poore mans cause defend,
Helpes not that hope which doth thereon depend.
Compassion so in all estates is vanisht,
As by decree, it were from all sorts banisht.
Religions name, is but dessemblers mockery,
And seeming saincts, are maskt in hells hipocrisie.
Oh in this age, such is the worlds condition,
As this word poore, doth spoile the poore petition.
Poore man, poore hope, poore to thy plaint not put,
Poore gainst it selfe, it selfe, al dores doeth shut.
The poore mans heart, with griefe to death is stung,
In vayne he speaks that wants a goulden tongue.
Silent be he whose coine his cause declareth,
A feeling sence, which vnderstanding heareth.
An honest name, diuine religion two,
Is bought and sould, all this can money do.
Who to good fame by goulden steps can mount,
Him doth this world, for worthiest man accompt.
Let vertue in a poore man cleerely shine,
A guilded gull is counted more diuine.
A sattin suite, be dawb'd with siluer lace,
Beyond desart, doth vildest clounship grace.
Immodest talke, and shameles ribaldry,
With monstrous oathes is court-like blasphemy.
In mony now there is such wondrous might,
As that a clowne will striue to be a knight.
Bright Honers wreath vaine idle fooles will craue it,
That want wherewith to keepe it when they haue it.
No doubt but now a gallant veluet company,
Three times a weeke may banquit with Duck Humfery.
In blood our gallants once cald to vse wors chiualdry,
With running they will sweat most fearfully.
Theyle do no lesse vnto the fild once led,
Then Romes braue youthes for their great Pompay did.
Proud daring lookes, in scorne of all disgraces,
Will turne their backes, to saue their amorous faces.
A face starke nought, in feare of present harmes,
Muffels it self, with crosse wreth'd recreant armes.
whē once Sir mony Knight, heates the fier'd mouth'd guns,
He startes, and shakes, and sweares, and hence he runnes.
Disgrace not deares, to touch the worthy merite,
Of any valiant well resolued spirit.
What ist the worst may not for money buy,
Honour, much Loue; and seeming honesty.
Rich let him be, and who can hurt him then,
Knaues wrapt in wealth, are counted honest men.
Honest, if poore, he this reward must haue,
Hang him base roage, proud begger, impious knaue.
No place nor office can the poore man buy,
Wealth neere so vilde, can mount it selfe on high.
Such is the force, of this corrupted time,
Downe trampled poore, helpes wealth aloft to clime.
Wealth doth so much, from natures lawe digresse,
As that it feedes vpon the poore mans flesh.
Seauen leane beasts had, of seauen fat oxen, power,
But now seauen fat, do seauenty leane deuoure.
Rich men do make, poore trad's-men faint and sweat,
Who in their wants, their cloathes, and tooles, must eate,
The science, which made Englands weale to florish,
And of the poore did many thousands nourish.
Must now inrich, a forreine strangers store,
And leaue vs heapes of vnreleeued poore.
From England if, raw cloathes might not be sent,
It would redresse poore peoples languishment.
And pay farre more, in taske, and subsidy,
Then now is rais'd, to Brittons Maiesty.
In common wealth, a man may thousands see,
That common wealths-men doe disdaine to bee.
Selfe scraping gaine, the children are of sloath,
In publique weale, they are like mothes in cloath.
Monopolitans are they whose policy,
Commits a vilde, yet vncheckt felony.
Let poore men thus of this or that complaine,
Rich men will hould the course whereby they gaine.
Who findeth fault with things that are amisse,
If he be poore, he must affliction kisse.
The poore man saith that Iustice wants a hand,
It beates, the bad, not helpes the good to stand.
That Soueraigne Mistres should the euill reiect,
But not refuse, her children to protect
Oppression swims amidst extortions streames,
And doeth not know, what restitution means.
Rich men do wrong, no; it's right though it be wrong,
At lest he makes it so, whose purse is strong.
A poore man struck, his cry hates rage doth threaten,
For crying then he must againe be beaten.
Poore men accus'd, though no offence be proued,
Hate is their meede, they are of none beloued.
Do euill, and then, Iustice will seaze on thee,
Do well, and then, thou shalt contempned bee.
From good desert, Enuy reward is stealing,
Trust, wanting truth, doth vse perfidious dealing.
Like Perlinies fish, let poore men swimme or flie,
They haue no meanes; to shunne their misery.
A poore man whilst his greefe, woes passion weepeth,
Dispaire, the dore of his affliction keepeth.
A minde whose thoughts, no force nor danger feares,
Is forc't to weepe, his wife and childrens teares.
Vaine sighes, vaine teares, when want proclaimes griefes woe,
The poore man knowes not vnto whom to goe.
Poore man, poore wife poore children all reiected,
Apes, Parrets, Dogges, and Monkeys more respected,
The poore mans words plainely and truely tels,
He cannot finde, the place where Mercy dwels,
And yet he seekes, and hath a long time sought,
His labour hath his woes inlargement wrought.
For whilst he waites on time, best time obseruing,
Himselfe and his by want of food are steruing.
Those hands cannot, their Countries weale preserue,
Which in their Country must indure to sterue.
Hard world when loue to doe a thing most iust,
Shall cause the poore that wrong indure they must.
Iustice, loue, truth, and faith, all these are raced,
When things well done, must be with force disgraced,
When Law commands an action to be done,
Why should that act into vilde scandall runne,
If so the law and makers thereof must,
In cause of euill be iustly blamed first.
To King and State, a Souldiers honest loue,
Hath causde his heart, sad woes extreames to proue,
A Souldiers hand, halfe staru'd, and wanting might,
Shall for them both want force and power to fight.
No peace on earth, though seeming most secure,
Can well resolue, how long it shall indure.
When warres staru'd force, threatens a kingdoms land,
Best safetie then liues in the Souldiers hand.
In peace me thinkes, those men should not be sterued,
By whom the strength of peace, is best preserued.
If to respect time present barbarous be,
The time to come, should wisdomes eyes foresee.
All those great nations which themselues disperse,
Vpon the bosome of worlds vniuerse.
For rash attempts are not so much condemned,
As is that Ile, in which our selues are hemmed,
Proud witte, that is with selfe conceitment swolne,
Makes fast the dore, when first the steed is stolne.
An after-wit, is counted Englands guise,
A forehand lookes iudiciall wisdomes eyes,
For gaine, men will their liues and country sell,
A generall spoile, makes some to prosper well.
Our Corne that goes vnto corruptions friend,
May feed a strength against our selues to bend.
We not respect although both heauen and earth,
Doe in their course foretell a threatned dearth.
As Dragons we our selues desire to bite,
Our hands, our selues doe most vnkindly smite.
Warres weapons we vnto those countries send,
Whose vse at last will most our selues offend.
We haue no feare, our land no danger knowes,
Vntill it feeles the force of dangers blowes.
Britaine hath foes, who in their thoughts doe striue,
How best they may our countries harme contriue.
But this I thinke, our fame shall thus be spred,
We may be beat, but neuer conquered.
I would to God our land may so prouide,
As we at first might kill presumptions pride.
Peace smiles on vs, but view heauens motion well,
Combustious times doth Sunne and Moone foretell.
This yeares Eclipse, a fatall period maketh,
And God thereby all earths foundation shaketh.
The Planets in their aspects differ farre,
From former time by course irregular.
The Crab, and Goate, whose Circles doe deuide,
The sweating Summer, from frostie Winters tide.
Keepe still the times, of auncient nomination,
But want the force, of wonted operation,
Ver, Eastus, Autumna, Hymen, all growne strange,
Seeme as they would, their seasons each exchange.
Celestiall fyers, that round this world impale,
And should from hence, corruptions dregs exhale.
Leaues them beneath, that noysome pestilence,
On earth, might fetch, materiall cause from thence.
When from the graue, corruptions slime doth soake,
Mantling the earth, in clouds of stincking smoake.
Deuouring creatures in that fogge shall breed,
Earths brest shall then, her children scarcely feed.
Corruption grosse, thick, fatte, sad, slimie, slowe,
Shall by the Sunne, to a combustion growe.
Those dreggs congeald, by steps to hugenesse creepes,
By Ayery Orbes, a wandring motion keepes.
Turning about, from place to place, their sent,
Spreading themselues, on earths vast continent.
Taking the shapes, from whence they first did grow,
In Ayerie formes like men and beasts they show.
When so they doe themselues, with wonder spreed,
It tels, they still expect on Death to feed.
Amidst some plaine, so are those Meatures spred,
As were an armie there imbattelled.
And when they thus, on heapes together cluster,
They summon men, vnto a generall muster.
But humaine eyes amazde, cannot dispence
With reasons force, of Natures influence.
Inuolued heapes, growne once vnmeasured great,
They striue to rise; against the Clowdes to beat.
Exhaled once, in rotten showers doe fall,
Infectious drops, such as men Mill-dewes call.
And then at last, in Midle-Region fed,
They are with force from thence exturbated.
And hauing climbde the vpper Regions hem,
To blazing fierie Commets tourned then.
For so our God by mightie wonder makes,
Prodigious fiers, threatning Kingdomes states.
Then shall the vilde ones of this world dispaire,
When they behold, such flames amidst the ayre.
A while beneath, those exhalations stayes,
Which shortly will, foretell some dangerous dayes.
But not to build on humaine foolery,
I thus much ground on scriptures Prophecie.

Even in the dayes when the seauenth Angell should,
Begin to blow his Trumpet, then God would
His Ministrie accomplished should be,
As to his Prophets before reueald had he.
The Angell hath, long time his Trumpet blowne,
Which to the world, worlds latter end hath showne.
Before which time the worlds Deceiuers must,
By wraths fierce hand, be all in sunder burst.
And first falles he, with stroake of Yron rod,
Who in Gods Church, doth sit as he were God.
With suttell craft, when he suspects his fall,
By secret force, him selfe defend he shall.
When as gainst him, a long feard power doth grow,
Such as before, the world could neuer showe.
Then desperate mad, his anger and his feare,
Against that power, a secret wrath shall beare.
To hell his hope, doth for assistance flie,
And then corrupt earths Princes secretly.
An hoast of tigers shal them selues combine,
With sauage hogges to spoyle the frutefull vine.
And thinke from grapes to draw a bleding flood,
When in one night, shal raine a shower of blood.
A winter greene their somers hope doth make,
They thinke their force shal cause Ioues Iland shake.
That downe they might heauens goulden Pallace rake,
A stren̄th shall rise from hells infernall lake.
The Leopard, the Wolfe, the Fox, all these,
Shall vnawares; vppon the Lyon sease
The Lyon rows'd his foes shall soone be torne,
With him shall ioyne the princely Vnicorne.
And push the best with his all clensing horne,
And make him wish he neuer had bin borne.
Hells dogs shal thinke oare mountayne tops to clime,
But breake their necks before their wisht for time.
They ar mustering now of Sathans regiment,
Their plot is lay'd hope feeds their vild intent.

When time shall be into combustion thrown,
And falsehoods nurse to hostile actions growne.
Wars thunder then, when it shall shake the world,
People shal be into amasement whorld.
A scarlet horce shal stomble and fall downe,
And after him a triple hallowed crowne.
The beast whose legges of claye, and Irone, wrought,
Must be vnto a feareful ruine brought.
Because Gods truth for to defile he sought,
He and his sea shall wast and come to nought.
His feat doeth shake and reele I see him falling,
The wounded monster, on the earth lies scrawling.
He gapes for breath, strangled himselfe he choakes,
About his eares, his painted Pallace smoakes.
Downe tumble must, that triple crowned whore,
Once falne, her fall not any shall deplore.
But those that would her spotted garments weare,
Whose foreheads doe, the marke of Dagon beare.
The Champions all, which would the best maintaine,
Shall at his feete, by conquering swords be slaine.
Gog ouerthrowne, Magog shall thinke to come,
With fire and sworde, through glorious Christendome,
From Euphrates, and Tygris, then shall rise,
A strength, that will, our tyrants tyrannise.
Arabians Gulfe, to Percias Gulfe shall flow,
From whence, a high reard softly floud shall grow.
Whose Sea-like waues, from thence to Fes shall roule,
Downe tumbling all, that would their force controule.
Reuenge, and death, to warres alarums leades.
The Eagles last continued monstrous heads.

The mountaine VVolfes frō Christian bounds cald hence,
Christians then, by force shall driue them thence.
And Christendome, whilst God her peace doth shield,
Shall striue aright, in her Gods house to build.
That she may teach, the nations thus to say,
Her Christ is God, we will his lawes obay.
Our Bishops then, the truth shall ratifie,
In order chiefe, not in authoritie,
And that Religion shall stand most beloued,
Whose rule is best by Scriptures truth approoued,
And for a Iudge, a Church finde out we can,
That knew the truth, before the Pope began.
Then shall the Church be built on Peters faith,
And that beleeue, which holy Scripture saith.
Then shall Gods Church her strength and glory see,
When Christ alone, her corner stone shall be.
Aboue Gods word, shall then be raisde no head,
By Christ their Sheapheard, shall his flock be lead.
Such Vnion shall the Northren Prince contriue,
As Christians shall no more with Christians striue.
Then Christendome, shall all her power bestow,
By force to worke the Pagans ouerthrow.
All Christian Princes, will themselues protect,
As shall the Northren Prince their course direct.
And now me thinkes, I see a glorious sight,
A Christian Armie, shining wondrous bright,
Marching in warres Batalias fit for fight,
In the defence of their Redeemers right.
The Northren Emperour, doth the red crosse beare,
To whose command, the armie craues to sweare.
With Pagans bloud, their warlike weapons staines,
Bohemian fields, and faire Hungarian plaines.
Whilst Esau, Ismael, and the cursed seed,
Doe striue to make each others breast to bleed.
Working that worke, for which they were compoūded,
That each by other, may be with warre confounded.
The Emperour of the North, that Prince of fame,
Brings Christendome into her wonted frame.
And all that did vnto that Empire bend,
At last shall back, vnto that state descend.
Empires, and Kingdomes, shall at once recoile,
And bend their strength, to worke their spoilers spoile.
Those lockt vp Deuils, in wildest Mountaines bred,
Whom Christian hands, from thence deliuered;
To whom at first, the Sarazens gaue pay,
By whom at last, themselues destroyed were they;
By all that strength, which hath their wrong indur'd,
Shall be at last their rac'd out name procur'd.
Sara, and Ketura, shall a conquest winne,
Of whom there is a mightie power vnseene.
And then once more, in pompe of Empire swels,
Those that are calde Religious Infidels.
Before they doe the sacred truth retaine,
Mongst them is Enoch and Elias slaine.
From forth the North, a Lyons voyce shall rore,
And make them then, the murthered dead deplore.
The doctrine which they taught, once calde to minde,
Shall Heathens teach, the way heauens path to finde.
Old Magog then new built, his name shall loose,
And for his God, the God of Gods shall choose.
The Northren Empire, shall to him disclose,
That Truth, gainst which he did himselfe oppose.
The Persians shall the Christians kindly greet,
When both their Armies, shall with conquest meet.
Mount Harmons dew, that sweetly then distils,
From off the tops of faire Arabian hils:
Shall fall on them, of Abrahams line the race,
Though yet vnseene, by faith the seeds of grace.
Then hungrie Dogges, no more a stray shall wander,
Iudeas race, shall finde the Bridegromes chamber.
Time takes in hand, to worke this wonder great,
A Northren blast, must coole the Sothern heate.
For of the Princes that shall worke this thing,
The worthiest power, from forth the North shall spring,
A Potent Prince, a strong and powerfull King,
His famous deeds, through all the world shall ring.
It is establisht, and his Throne shall stand,
Whose force shall take a wondrous worke in hand.
In his blest Live triumphant glory goes,
With glorions Race of conquering Emperours.
This is the winde; and Lion of the wood,
From whom a most Emperiall strength shall bud.
And to the Eagle, in wrathes fiers fury speake,
And al his winges, and Feathers, peecemeale breake.
The Heathens he, at iudgments bar shall set,
And make them know the power gainst which they fret.
He shall the land from Paganisme deliuer,
And wash heauens flock, in faith's saluations riuer.
He shall the earth, with heauenly grace refresh,
And vnto her, heauens lawes with truth expresse.
The foes whereof he shall with force destroy,
And turne earths bondage into freedomes ioye.
Set free her hope, shall waite on that saluation,
whose mercies iudgment, layed her first foundation.
This Royall line, the whole continuance, summes,
Of all the yeares vntill great Shilo comes.
God shortly will the businesse vndertake,
For which he doeth the Northen Empier make.
Vpon his head, stands an Emperiall Crowne,
Whose Monarchy shall throw Romes Empire downe.
Fooles though they brag, their cloud of earths elusion,
Both must, and shall, come to a rac't confusion.
And that eare long, time doeth a course beginne,
Whereby consum'd shall be, worlds sinke of sinne.
This happen shall, and when these signes appeare,
Know then the day of iudgment draweth neere,
Be I excus'd, and not condempn'd of men,
No deuill-borne Merline, doth direct my pen.
Vnto an end time doth each creature driue,
From holy writ do I these words deriue.
This rotten age, pointing at worlds decay,
But well obseru'd, doth wondrous things bewray.
Both heauen, and earth, mankind so loades with sinne,
They pray heauens God, he would their rest beginne.
And set them in that state wherein they stood,
When God made all, and said all things were good.

Of time to come, what meanes my pen to write?
Whom present time, holdes in such base despight.
In spight of time, and times vnkind despising,
My time shalbe, my countries good deuising.
The times abuse, let time to come, amend
For trifles, let not time with, truth contend.
A vnion, and a vniforme conclude,
Oh let no shadowes, this happiest time delude.
Vnto the Church, a glorious time is sent,
Things now decreed, must be worlds president.
Let then this time, foresee with iudgements sight,
By sacred lawe, to rule all actions right.
Time must suppresse all such vntimely fruit,
As doth it selfe in Scisme and Faction suite.
Condemne not those, either of Scisme, or Faction,
Whose liues are giuen to euery godly action.
Let goodmen vse wise wisdomes sound aduise,
Least causelesse feare, makes them vnwisely nice,
Who so their wills, before their wit preferre,
By wilfulnes, may most vnwisely erre.
Indifferent things, not hindring good deuotion,
Wise men for them, should raise no vaine commotion.
No true Church can her glory dignifie,
Whose power Commands gainst written veritie.
Wee may obserue, what ere the wrangler saith,
Rules that are held within the list of faith.
True faith in which saluations strength is found,
It must it selfe, vpon the scriptures ground.
Things done which doe not hinder faiths beleife?
Why should they seeme to worke Religions greife?
Me thinkes we doe vnto religion wrong,
By seeming weeke, when faith should make vs strong.
Foxes, dumbe doggs, let no man them prefer,
Nor such as those, that too contentious are.
Let not diuines like phisick doctors be,
The more the worse, and most lack honestie.
Nor let our hope vpon this motion rest,
To keepe the worst and cast away the best.
Those trifles which doe now dissturbe our peace,
Could men be wise, they of themselues would cease.
The consort of a lawfull ministrie,
Must be on earth heauens sweetest harmonie.
Oh let them then, that doe Gods vineyard keepe,
Watch, preach, and pray, and not like sluggards sleepe.
Paul shau'd his head, and did thereby intend,
His course might not his brethren weake offend.
Ioyne in on truth, with blessed vnitie,
Great Britaines fame adorne and beautifie.
Feare not, but know, for it is Albions dome,
Her kings shall neuer yeeld their Crowne to Rome.
Then let heauens flock, with patient soules abide,
Although like gold, they must be seauen times tri'de.
When God doth meane to scourge a land for sinne,
At his owne house the blow must first beginne.
Who so will be, the glorious Bridegromes Bride,
Must in afflictions flames, be purified.
The path to glory, is no pleasant way,
Take vp thy crosse, and seeke eternall ioy.
Whilst Preachers preach, of Christ his sacred deitie,
Where are the deeds of Mercy, Loue, and Piety?
Where are the fruites, Religion should bring forth?
When Saint-like shew, vngodly actions doth.
Our seeming zeale doth this report preferre,
We scornefull, proud, and meerely faithlesse are,
A seeming friend, will friendships name delude,
And staine himselfe with hels ingratitude.
One by his friend, both raisde to wealth and credit,
His thankes shall be, to cut his throat that did it.
Let but a muck-heape, possesse great heapes of gould,
And Honour then, shall be by him contrould.
Each witlesse peasant, by his wealth made proud,
Thinkes he talkes well, and if he speakes but lowd.
A seruile minde, his hopes at lowest ebbe,
Worships, as God, the golden Calfe in Horeb.
Though by the poore, the rich are honoured,
Yet by the rich, the poore may starue vnfed.
Our lamenesse must, with skilfull Arte be dressed,
So out of ioynt are all our actions wrested.

Great Britaine know, a time will come to thee,
In which thy sinne, shall sharply punisht bee.
Therefore repent, least iudgements follow fast,
First plague, then dearth, and vse of swords at last.
Be reconcilde, though God will not abhorre thee,
Yet he prepares an angrie iudgement for thee.
Thy pride, and proud contempt of Gods pure word,
Makes Heauen gainst thee, to draw a wrathfull sword.
Thy whordoms lust, and drunkards blasphemie,
Extortion, bribes, and hatefull vsurie,
Lyes, fraud, deceipt, and poores oppression,
Slownesse to good, from God thy swift digression,
Will bring on thee a wrath to plague thee so,
As thou shalt groane, with sense of feeling woe.
With seeming Saints, the time not temporize,
A broken heart to God is sacrifice.
Wraths fury feares, shall whip thee for thy sinne,
Vnlesse thou doest for to repent begin.
Such iudgments doe, gainst thee themselues assemble,
As were they seene, would make hels Ruffins tremble,
Heauens gracious God, be pleasde for thine elect,
Faire Albions good, with safetie to protect,
Direct vs so, that we to thee may turne,
That then gainst vs thy wrath may cease to burne.
The swarmes sent from the Antechristian beast,
Confound them Lord, let them in no place rest.
And those by whom, our harme is yet concealed,
In thy good time, be all their plottes reuealed.
Great Britaine, doe thou not despaire, but mourne.
In sorrow, let repentant robes be worne,
That when thou fightst for thy Redeemers name,
Thy deeds in warre, may dignifie thy fame.
From forreine coasts, the thing which most thee harmes,
Is Englands Armour, wanting English armes.
And English-men from vse of warre exempt,
Are oft prou'd cowards in the first attempt.
A Souldiers name, though now it be refused,
A time will come, when Souldiers must be vsed.
Not euery one that beares a Souldiers name,
If rightly tride, will be approued the same.
It is not he, that drinkes sicke healths, and sweares,
That in a Tauerne, proudly swagger dares,
Nor he that doth, a misled Mistresse keepe,
And vowes for her, his sword in bloud to steepe.
Nor he that feareth, neither God nor diuell,
Whose daily actions, are the worst of euill.
He is no Souldier, that wanteth vertues stay,
Who loues to make a desperate drunken fray.
That is no valour, nor resolution right,
That vainely will for worthlesse trifles fight.
But they doe best, a Souldiers name approue,
Who wisely doe their reputation loue.
Be he a Souldier, worthy praise to winne,
Who feares his God, and hates the deeds of sinne.
He whose body and stomack can disgest,
Heat, colde, hunger, thirst, much paines, and little rest.
He that can well imbattell soone his men,
And knows in clouds of smoake to skirmish then.
He that leads on, and with discretion leads,
And least dismaide, when most in bloud he treads.
He that when thousands, doe with thousands fight,
By word, or signe, can giue directions right.
He that so can, both charge and make retraite,
As Honour still vpon his steps shall waight.
That Fortitude, ioynd with sound iudgments sense,
Is wrought of more, then natures quintessence.
Those Souldiers are of greatest excellence,
Whose liues and deaths, haue honours recompence.
A poore man, if a Souldier rightly tride,
King Harry would haue plac'd him by his side.
Those spirits which are fit for warre esteem'd,
Amongst the best, be they the worthiest deem'd.
Be they imbrac'd with loues respectiue arme,
Whose hands know how to shield our peace frō harme,
I doe not wish, but doubt warres ratling drumme,
Ere long to armes will summon Christendome.
The Red-crosse though it may some times retire,
At last his fame shall to the heauens aspire.
Great Britaine so, is by Gods hand instal'd,
As it shall be the land of conquest cal'd.

But now to ease a poore mans grieued minde,
In things aboue, my sight shall comfort finde.
I know the time, when I poore wretch reiected,
Shall as the best, be no whit lesse respected.
When Kings, and Queenes of greatest excellence,
Twixt them, and me, shall be no difference.
And there dwels Mercy, Oh there a Sauiour liueth,
That to the poore, saluations comfort giueth.
Not many Kings, nor Queenes, nor Nobles shall,
Triumph before heauens throne maiesticall.
But those that in this world their heauen doe make,
Shall in that world, before Gods iudgment shake.
The beautie which on earth no praise doth lack,
Maskt vp in shame, hels sulphure smoake, makes black.
The snowe white hand, moyst, soft, foule sinnes desire,
Shall burne in lake of hels eternall fire.
where diuels, mēs soules, with fiery darts strikes thorow,
And in their iawes, like dogges, they them shall worow.
Where God doth so his angers iudgment frame,
As that his wrath shall blow, hels endlesse flame.
Euer, Euer, oh fearefull word, for euer,
Where plagues encrease, but shall be ended neuer.
Where torment brings torments, with fresh supplie,
Where dying soules doe liue, but neuer dye.
And ther's the place, where earths proud dignitie,
Shall plunge it selfe in endlesse misery.

But happie those, whose soules by grace made pure,
Exempt from wrath, shall no such plagues indure.
And most of them poore soules, scornd and disgrac'd,
Are those that shall with God and Christ be plac'd.
When most on earth, the poore despisde doe stand,
It doth presage Christs comming neere at hand.
Deiected, base, and out-cast pouertie,
Reioyce, triumph, in Mercies clemencie.
You are heauens flock, a Shepheard doth you keepe,
Who of his number will not loose a sheepe.

Thus hath my sigh, an honest passion breathed,
And of my woes, a weeping garland wreathed.
My sighes, my teares, my woes, my griefes lament,
My plaints, my groanes, all fruites of discontent;
Doe not themselues, vpon one substance feed,
A generall doubt, makes heart and soule to bleed.
A generall euill, a land to vildenesse bent,
Must needs expect some fearefull punishment.
Of present time, the things desired heere,
Time prooues my words, and makes the truth appeere.
Of time to come, I humbly doe auowe,
Experience shall my words for truth allowe.
Search but the Story of that writte diuine,
And vnderstand the change of euery time.
Fiue hundred, fiftie two yeares coumpted was,
A period whole, which euer brought to passe,
Strange alterations, both in Church and State,
Kings, Kingdomes then, did striue to ruinate.
Temples were rac're, Religion cleane despisde,
Tyrants by force of sword, new lawes deuisde.
And now the time doth on such period stand,
As if it meant to take like course in hand.
Do but obserue, each Celestiall spheare,
And see what signes doe in their course appeare.
Compare the time, with antedated times,
And vnderstand the Heauens true speaking signes.
Then will you not these lines of mine deride,
Nor smother them, with smoake of scornfull pride.
A Souldiers writing, like his fighting is,
His course not knowes, how dangers rockes to misse.
Those Pens doe most, their hopes in peeces batter,
That cannot best with oyled smoothnesse flatter.
A Souldiers name, striue not for to disgrace,
Poore should not be accompted vildely base,
And that I may not from the truth digresse,
My humble lines, shall thus my state expresse.
The Souldier which doth scorne the lye to take,
Should scorne as much himselfe the lye to make.
The open fields, to me is made my bed,
A bancke of earth, a pillow for my head.
In shadie groues, and sollitary places,
My steps doe make their sorrowes mournfull traces.
Imprisonment, woes wofull habitation,
Hath forc't my Muse, to secret contemplation.
In winter nights, when I a Souldier was,
Alone my Muse, should priuate motions tosse.
When in the warre, I warres attire did beare,
My bookes to me, most kinde companions were.
And some sad houres, on skie-borne bookes I read,
Amongst the starres, an humble path I tread.
And see the great, and strange Coniunctions there,
Of angrie, Saturne, Mars, and Iupiter.
Since first the Planets disclosde their variation,
Saturne neer had more Lord-like domination.
What it foretels, my weary Muse forgets,
In Dragons taile, when strange Coniunction sets.
His name stands rouled in perditions booke,
Whose taile from heauē, of starres the third part strooke.
Vnder the Dragons taile, is fixed fast,
A strength that shall, him and his tayle downe cast.
Mankinde, the starres that Heauen should beautifie,
Shall be vpreard, with glorious dignitie.
Though obseruation rightly may collect,
The iudgment of some retrograde aspect:
Yet Christ, our King and kingdomes hath possessed,
With that wherein our selues, and world, is blessed.
Though Leos house hath such reflection glided,
As tels there is, some wondrous thing prouided.
I leaue to write, and will conceit the rest,
Our land shall still by Gods great loue be blest.
A constant faith, true resolution proues,
Feares not what vnder the first moouer mooues.
And in this thought I see with humble eye,
The mighty worke of Prima mobili.
And know the world, in fiery flames shall burne,
Before he doth, to his first point returne.
For Heauen and earth, by fire once purgd, then sure,
They shall remaine, as they at first were pure.
When God the world, to iudgement summon will,
That first great mouer, keepes his motion still.
Whose slow pace round, doth roundly comprehend,
Those lesser Orbes, that vnder him doe wend.
In order each, his fixed iourney takes,
And in their turnes, celestiall musicke makes.
And then I thinke of that most happie time,
When I shall heare their dulsiue heauenly chime.
Aboue them all, faiths eyes through Bethelem,
Beholds the glory, of new Ierusalem.
Where sits vpon a Throane maiesticall,
The mightie maker of this wondrous all.
When thether once my ioyfull thoughts are sent,
I am amazde with wonders rauishment.
Nor tongues, nor Pens, nor Angels can expresse,
The glory of that glorious happinesse.
From thence to Luna, not any Orbe to misse,
I cannot finde, where Purgatorie is.
So that I thinke, it sure remaineth yet,
Within their bellies that deuised it.
And those that would attaine to heauens great ioy,
Must leaue bye-pathes, and finde in Christ their way.
But for the Starres, I creatures them account,
Aboue them all, their makers power must mount.
And by their influence, more I will not learne,
Then Rules diuine, shall teach me to discearne.
And in that course, men sometimes are befriended,
Of those pure fiers, by whom they are attended.
God euer yet, by signes and visions told,
So as worlds change, worlds worldlings might behold.
But cloddes of clay, because they will not greeue,
This course they take, to heare, but not beleeue,
To gesse, to speake, to iudge, great states to touch,
For me poore soule, it is a strength too much.
Who so doth tel what things themselues doe show,
May doubt his words wil too presumptuous growe.

Fvll twenty times, nights Bride her selfe hath chaung'd,
Since from my former worke, my muse estraung'd.
Her grieued thoughts, my owne estate to viewe,
Still being fed, with wormewood, gall, and rue.
And now though wrapt in foldes of mournefull care,
I am rowsde vp, some part with them to beare.
Which doe reioyce, as theirs, so is my ioy,
That God is pleasd hells actions to destroye.
And now my muse in more then wonder wrapt,
Will speake of what, since first shee writ hath hapt.
Two nights before the night of Englands wrack,
Such greifes themselues vpon my breast did pack;
That from woes Cowch I rose alone to walke,
And with my selfe, of my sad fate to talke.
For when daies light vpon my face should shine,
I knew those wants, would nip both me and mine.
No sooner vp, and forth my chamber stept,
But straight my thoughts into amasement lept.
For round about, I saw so cleere a light,
As that I thought, it rather daie then night.
And well I knew that Luna then did please,
To shew her selfe to the Antipedes.
And when aloft I did suruey the skie,
There was no starres that any man could spie.
To search the cause resolu'd of my intent,
I walkt abroade to view the Element.
A tossing winde, whorl'd round the earth below,
as from earths wombe, some tombling noyse did growe.
Said I, such noyse as this, is said of some,
For to foretell an Earth-quake nere to come:
And looking vp, a generall seeing flame,
With burning streames, bemantled all heauens frame.
That from one part did not arise lights beames,
But heauen was Cloath'd, with vniuersall streames.
Amids the Ayre, I might sometimes espie,
The flashing flames vnto a roundnes flye.
And then dispierce themselues immediatly,
The world orespreeding with a burning Cannopie.
When thus I saw sent from the fiery spheare,
Such burning streames and flashing flames so cleere.
Said I, this truth doth on these signes depend,
Doubtles the world is neere vnto her end.
And then I thought, that such despisde as I,
With ioy should haue, an end of miserie.
Thus hauing view'd till eyes all dazled were,
My reeling steps, my dussie braines did beare.
To sorrows cell, the Caue of former Care,
Vnto my selfe I did my woes declare.

From Sol, to Mars, with vsuall attribute,
Foure times Aurora in her Crimson sute.
Had bid god morrow to her friendes beneath,
Whilest all this time, my griefe (woes sighs) did breath,
And then my minde, griefes danger to eschue,
For solace went Gorguntus walles to viewe.
Abroad, my steps, had me no sooner brought,
But straight my eares had such a rumour caught,
As made me start, and in a maze to wonder,
How hell deuisde, to rend the world in sounder.
A treason no, A deuill-borne fiery rage,
A worke nere thought of in precedent age.
A Sauage wrath, whose like nere staynd a storie,
Should haue destroyd the heauen of Britons glory.
Its true in warre, that souldiers not refuse,
Against their foes, the like deuise to vse.
But in a kingdome, by subiects to their King,
The world till now, nere heard so vilde a thing.
The name of England, with datelesse infamie,
Had stood ingrauen to worldes posteritie.
Breeder of Deuills so fit for villany,
As at one blow, could sack a monarchie.
The whore, whose lawes, allowes such deedes of horror,
Let heauen, and earth, and all the world abhorre her.

The Proiect of these trayterous homycites,
A booke at large to euery mind recites.
And though I would, I dare not speake no more,
Of Treason plotts, then hath beene spoke before.
But now I see, the night that I admyred,
Foretold the flame that should the world haue fiered.
And yet the generall of heauens fiery warre,
Included more then on particular.
Oh if that God for Englands sinne had pleasd,
That horred act, on king and state had seazd.
Great Britons breast had now beene drownd in blood,
Rac'd, sackt, and spoyl'd, bereft of euery good.
Theft, murther, Rape, and euery act of hell,
Had built their house on Englands face to dwell.
The spoile of man, of humane race the shame,
Would haue rac'd out all humane vertues name.
Vilde dissolutes, prophane, and insolent,
Like Tirants would haue wrong'd the innocent.
A Goathian Armye, amongst our selues maintain'd,
Would thē, with blood, our townes & streets haue stain'd.
Our lawes of God, our lawes of man should then,
haue bene of force, to gouerne faithles men.
The rich mans wealth, should not his owne haue beene,
But made a spoile vnto the hands of sinne.
Faire London then, her glorious pompe and state,
The vildest hands, would vildely ruinate.
Young maides, and wiues, of feature excellent,
Had beene abusde by brutish rauishment.
Beautie most rare, if it continued chaste,
Had then vnto luxurious armes beene cast.
The courtly nimphes, faire, wise, and trimly gay,
That could not but with silkes and veluets play.
Whose maskt vp cheekes, from winde & sunne are fled,
All fresh to keepe their artificiall red.
There beauties sheild (white breasts) scarce paper proofe,
Must then haue tumbled with some ruder stuffe.
With correspondēce, rude armes besmeer'd with greace
Should haue imbrac'd a painted sluttishnesse,
And they perhaps, resolu'd in miserie,
Would smile, at that their least calamitie.
But mindes refin'd, of purest substance fram'd,
Such as on earth, may be heauens Angels nam'd.
Whose beautie; no adulterate deeds haue staind,
But spotlesse, they haue truly chaste remainde.
That Angell number, with hels rage ore spred,
That Heauens impression vildely rauished.
Oh what a terror should their hearts haue felt,
When vilde ones would, with them haue vildely delt.
Euill to suppresse, when Iustice sturd had beene,
Then bloud and murther, had mainteind hels sinne.
The strength which makes the magistrate most strong,
And giues him warrant to suppresse each wrong.
The name which doth vnto the lawes giue force,
Had hence bene snatcht, if hell had held his course.
In vayne should then the officers haue said,
In the Kings name wee charge, lets be obeyd.
In the Queenes name then if iustice out should crye,
Hells howndes had said, she with the king should die.
Prince Henryes name, if iustice should haue tried,
Sweete Prince he should, with King & Queene haue died.
If to the Duke of Yorke, our hopes had fled,
Doubtles hells hands, would him haue murthered.
Should iustice then vnto the Princesse flie,
She had beene seidze by traytors tyranny.
The honor'd Councell, might help the iust to saue,
For King, Queene, Prince, & them, was made one graue.
Then to the Lords, and Bishops of the land,
They with the rest had dyed by treasons hand.
Should in the Iudges then our hope haue ioyed?
They with the rest, had beene at once destroyed.
From knights and burgesses, if safeties hope distill'd,
They with the rest a sulpher flame had kilde.
With bibles then, should faithfull preachers presse,
And breath forth, iudgments gainst sinnes wickednes.
And saie, Behold, heauens indignation feare,
This booke of God, doth Gods fierce wrath declare.
The rage which should, from Romishe flames haue fum'd,
Would quickly haue them and their books consum'd.
Oh then of whom should iustice help require,
All these Consum'd by flame of rutheles fire.
No age makes record, of so foule a sinne,
Since god did first to frame this world begyn.
Doomes day to England, now bin threatned hath,
Ore which heauens God hath shakte his hand of wrath.
Oh may our deedes his mercy so Commend,
As still his grace, may Britons Ile defend.
But now behold, the fruites of Romish faith,
And know for truth, what Popish doctrine saith.
Of binding, and of loosing, Popes haue got,
A strength, which knittes of euery euill the knot.
And makes damnation seeme saluation sure,
If so thereby Rome may her gaine procure,
What most she craues, is euery course to take,
How best she may her selfe worlds Monarch make.
The Pope that saith himselfe, worlds God to be,
Speakes truth, for so's the deuill aswell as he.
But Pope from Peter doth deriue his race,
And saith, to him belongs the keyes of grace.
And he Christs vicar, of all Gods church the head,
Must be supreame, all Kings his frowne must dread.
With any oath, he can at large dispence,
And at his pleasure, pardon each offence.
Aboue Gods word, he doth himselfe auow,
And his construction, must the world allow.
True Christians, they onely his doctrine likes,
And all the rest are damned Heretikes.
Gainst this, the Lyon of the Tribe of Iuda cries,
And tels the Pope, that like a diuell he lyes.
But still the Pope will keepe heauens golden gate,
And doth from thence, Kings excomunicate.
No King on earth, must haue his name inrold.
Vnlesse that first on him his Crowne he hold.
And al the world, that on his sea not dwels,
Are Ethnicks, Pagans, faithlesse Infidels.
Those that not grow vpon his stock intire,
Are branches wilde, fit for destructions fire.
Such hath he power, to any death to put,
And from lifes tree, those saplesse twigs to cut.
Without the Church, as Iewes and Turkes they be,
That will not yeeld to his supremacie.
And Popish Romaines, they are taught to know,
It lawfull is to worke their ouerthrow.
That will not yeeld obedience to the Pope,
In whose behalfe is giuen so large a scope,
That Traytors doe for heauenly merite hope,
Though thence the deuill doth pluck them in a Rope.
If for Romes sake, they kill their lawfull King,
Bald iades for them, shall trotting trentalls sing.
And they, because so vilde a deede they did,
For Saints at Rome shall be canonized.
The Pope such power vnto himselfe doth take,
As he, a diuell, a Saint, can quickly make.

Heere briefely see, the power of Rome set downe,
Aboue the world, himselfe, himselfe doth crowne,
Aboue Gods word, and sacred Lawes diuine,
The monsters proud, ambitious steps doe clime.
And from his seate of blasphemie hath flowne,
The fire that should haue King and Realmes vp blowne.
Villaines that would the world in sunder riue,
Say for Religions sake, they did contriue
That damned plot; oh hellish insolence!
When deuils will make Religion euils defence.
The actors in a worke more then Tyrannicall,
They did themselues, their countries purgers call.
In all they did, meerely their countries loue,
Did them vnto the vildest actions moue.
They would not leaue her, but like Champions stand,
Till they from bondage, had freed their natiue land.
They but resolu'd to be most mercilesse,
To free the Catholicks from their long distresse.
From desperate times disease, euils strength to loose,
They were inforc'd a desperate salue to choose.
The worst of euill, was best in their esteeme,
From worse then euill, their countrie to redeeme.
The Pope might them, for faithfull Christians take,
When what they did, was for religions sake.
Their plot found out, the very place to sack,
Where all the lawes were made, that wrought their wrack.
And this conceit in them, a hope prefers,
They should be thought, Gods iustice ministers.
These Realmes with Rome, in vnion to vnite,
Was all the cause, for which their hopes did fight.
For Romes auaile, and for the Church her good,
King & Kingdomes, they would haue drownd in bloud.
For these good deedes, whatsoeuer did befall,
Saints at the least, the Pope would make them all.

Now see their worke, and cause, for which they wrought
And iudge how well, Rome hath her children taught.
Their euill to doe, they were so confident,
As to performe't, they tooke the Sacrament.
Christs Royall body, substanciall flesh and bloud,
They say, they eate and dranke, and thereby stood;
Bound to performe the euill which they intended,
Oh then, how farre should be their faith commended!

Here doth my Muse want words, my thoughts to speake,
And doth into a strange admirement breake.
Oh God, how durst these men Sathanicall,
Imbru'de in bloud, with hearts Tyrannicall.
Made blacke with treason, gainst Gods annointed King,
Themselues before heauens Iesus Christ to bring.
And though from bread, they can him not deliue,
Yet in the signe he's representatiue.
And bread not chang'd, yet holy scripture saith,
By it we feed, on Iesus Christ by faith.
Not to dispute, but say as they accoumpt,
Into what height, doe their presumption mount.
When as a wretch, before his God shall stand,
And thinke he holdes his Maker in his hand.
And yet with soule all stain'd, as black as hell,
Euen at that instant, doth in damnation dwell.
And records God, and in him all the Trinitie,
To be the witnesse of his hell-borne villanie.
And sweares by them, with desperate hand to act,
The vildenesse, of the very vildest fact.
And thus resolu'd, his Sauiour vp he eates,
So arm'd in proofe, a King and State he threates.
Oh fearefull thing, the seale of mans saluation,
Seales vp to them, assured condemnation.
Yet they so blinde, in faithlesse hopes doe trust,
And thinke thereby, their vildest actions iust.
Heere see the strong delusion that should mocke,
The race, cast from the number of Christs flocke.
Heere see the cup of worlds abhominations,
And know the whore, that breaths forth execrations
Against heauens throne, the Lambe, and all his Saints,
And yet she so, her damned vildenesse paints;
As that she seemes of holinesse the seate,
But God for her, hath laid vp iudgments great.
She, and her pack, that had our fall compounded,
Shall be ere long, by Gods fierce wrath confounded.
And they that did for vs one flame desire,
God hath for them, prepar'd an endlesse fire.

Now would my Muse desire to expresse,
In vildest euill, false traytors readinesse.
Catesbie, so soone as he did Winter mooue,
Consent straight ioynd, the worst of euill to proue.
There needed no perswasion to be vsde,
Hels motion was at first, not once refusde.
What course so ere, hell could to him propound,
His liues aduenture, he thereon would ground.
So all the rest, with selfe-same swiftnesse ranne,
To worke an euill, the like nere wrought by man.
Their labour then, their care, and diligence;
Their watchfull heed, their bountie, and expence,
Their desperate and resolued confidence:
Till death, to fight gainst heauen, in hels defence:
Approues what power, the deuill doth beare in those,
That serue his will, and to his Aulters goes.

In England now, what course the Pope doth take,
His Champions proud, so fit for hell to make,
Let me set forth; that euery one may spie,
The cunning worke of Romes arch villany.
For Romes auaile, are built beyond the Seas,
(As Christian deedes) some stately Colledges.
And they are giuen in charitie, to bring
Vp those, that will Romes Masses learne to sing:
Children there taught, the rules of Popery,
Are learnd to know proud Romes supremacie.
Their teachers largely, doe to them expresse,
How much they owe, to Romes Scald holinesse.
And that their liues; lost in the Popes behoofe,
Confirmes the truth of their religions proofe.
If for Romes good, to shamefull death they come,
It crownes them with, a glorious martirdome.
Who yeeldes not to Romes lawes are only those,
Which they must know on earth to be Gods foes.
Their parents, if they shall Romes Pope displease,
It's lawfull for them, on their liues to seaze.
To any Prince they are no subiect helde,
That dares deny, vnto Romes sea to yeelde.
For Rome, If subiects their lawfull soueraigne kill,
Romes lawes affirme, that they Gods lawes fulfill.
Vnto the Church a benefite to bring,
Each euill is made a sanctimonious thing.
When thus they are instructed, then I hope,
They may become, fit seruants for the Pope.
Then taking oath in vildest euills to trade,
They are indeede substanciall villaines made.
And thus those schooles, the Popes best charitie,
Are made the nurse of treasons treacherie.
Thether oft goes our Englands Papall youthes,
To read the volumes of the Popes vntruthes.
To studie there, doe idle wits deuise,
Where legions are, of vprearde mountaine lies.
Logician like, who best can lies mayntaine,
Can best vphold Romes blood red scarlet traine.
There in those schooles, Rome doth those schollers cherish,
By whome he hopes to make gods kingdome perish.
From forth those lakes, as from a stigian gulfe,
To England comes each hell-borne Romane woolfe.
Of our owne people, doe those schooles begett,
A viperous swarme, for vildest treasons fit.
Seminaryes, the children of perdition,
Thence bring to vs Romes Popish superstition.
With him he brings aucthoritie to beare,
All shapes, and formes, and may each fashion weare.
Sometimes like clownes, sometimes like ruffins braue,
Sometimes like courtiers sometimes like lawyers graue.
Like Farmors, Citizens, or like a seruing man,
Like glassemen, tinkers, or like foote posts, can
Those Rascalls runne, our kingdome round about,
And not be found when iustice seekes them out.
They may be droncke, or sweare, or of the Pope speake ill,
Forsweare themselues, or lie, or what they will.
No euill in them, can ioyne sinnes name vnto it,
If for the Church, and Popes auayle they doe it.
The selfe same power that to deceaue hath he,
He giues to them that once deceaued be.
With hells Commission, giuen a deuill to preach,
So doth the Pope his Saints and Children teach.
From Rome then let this truth be vnderstood,
The Pope knowes how, to make all mischiefs good.

These hell seed sowers, when they come to see
Such, as to whom, they may vnmasked be.
With wordes dissolu'd in graceles zeale to teares,
He then to them, with humble speech declares.
He doth no more then their saluation craue:
He Comes, their soules from Hell, and Deuill, to saue,
Alas saith he, your preachers doe you wrong,
Not of the Church, you not to heauen belong.
Then with a crosse, and bodie humbly bent,
My Lord the Pope his holynes hath sent;
By me, from forth Saint Peters blessed store,
Heauens heauenly kingdome, home vnto your doore.
Oh doe you then, with ioye your hearts addresse,
For to receiue, heauens proffered happines.
To heauen, marke well, for it is truth I say,
You cannot goe, vnlesse I teach the way.
And if you will no longer be beguiled,
To holy Rome you must be reconciled.
Thus they at first, doe set destructions trap,
And throwe themselues into deuotions lapp.
They fold their words, in seeming holy zeale,
And from the hearers, thus their hearts they steale.
And when as their perswasions thus haue wrought,
As to Romes sea, by them some soules are brought.
Then to the Pope, once reconcilde and sworne,
From hence to Rome, their hallowed names are borne.
And afterwardes, its taught them by degrees,
To vnderstand the strength of Romes decrees.
And so forth on, vntill they come to this,
To know like them, their prince no Christian is.
And some thing done, from sinne their land to free,
As murthering him, should meritorious bee.
And as they finde a spirite fit to heare,
So will they vse their doctrines to declare.
And giue to them, what their deuotion brings,
Beades, pictures, Saints, and pretie hallowed things.
Popes do maintaine their Antichristian Scisme,
With relicks, ragges, and Apish Munckanisme.
The simple thus, by them deceaued are,
The wise are caught, euen by the selfe same snare.
Thus in the darcke of hells eternall shade,
Amongst our selues, are English traytors made.
This is the seede that Semynaries sowe,
And this the fruite, that from their labours groue.
And that these euills vnseene may safely florish,
our Papists doe them and their actions nourishe.

But that which threats great Britons monarchie,
and best vpholde Romes hatefull dignitie.
Is that mongst vs, there ruleth secretly,
A sea, and state, of Popish presbetrie.
In England here Rome hath an Arch-priest plac'd,
The Pope hath him as with a Councel grac'd.
Some certaine Papists onely knowes his walke,
And they alone, of Romes diseignes must talke.
All Iesuites, of Romes Priuie Councell be,
For best they know the grounds of trecherie.
At Rome for them, Princelike their Agents are,
Who doth their causes to the Pope prefer.
Rome hether, they thether, vsually,
As cause requires, doe send in embassie.
Before our safetie, can soundly be inioyed,
This Priest and Councell needes must be destroyed.
For by their meanes the Pope doth play the deuill,
And plagues vs here with euery kinde of euil.
All they desire, is our Confusions shame,
And ouer vs, the Pope supreame to name.
Arch-Papist, doth for this the best he can,
Church-papist, he becomes his iorney man,
All worke together, the Pope aloft to rayse,
And still their working, workes our dangerous dayes.
Of some perhaps that thing is now condemned,
which done, would thē, much more haue bin cōmended.
All did not know, by some the treason coynd,
Once done, God knowes, how many would haue ioynd,
To sound effect, could Rome her hopes compose,
Romes forreine friends, would soone become our foes.
For he, on whom is laide their faiths foundation,
Can quickly giue a generall dispensation.
What Rome not gets by force or policie,
By promise, vowes, oathes, threates, or periurie.
By charmes, inchantments, witchcraft, sorcerie,
For that he fights aperte, or secretly.
With murther, treason, bloud, and treacherie,
The Pope makes these his great artillarie.
Thus he vpholds his sea of blasphemie,
And when he doth, to hostile actions flie,
Then that which most is shame to Maiestie:
His kings must serue him in his villanie,
Ther's not an euill, that hell determine shall,
But Popes will vse, to serue their turnes withall.
Their actions waied, then let the truth speake thus,
Pittie to them, is crueltie to vs.

Are these the fruites, that Romish Saints forth bring?
Is it for this, so oft they masses sing?
Is this the zeale of their religious heate?
So oft for this, doe they their prayers repeate?
Is it for this, their God in minde to beare?
That on their brests, a Crucifixe they weare?
Is it for this, that whip themselues they vse?
For this doe they, their cloathes to weare refuse?
Doe they for this, to Saints and Angels pray.
Vse shrift, and penance, and fast so oft must they?
Is this their loue, almes, patience, and humilitie?
Is this their peace, and churches sweete tranquilitie?
Are these the children, that Romane faith begets?
With helpe of Popes, Friers, Nunnes and Iesuits?
Are they for this, with holy-water blest?
Doe their perfection in these effects consist?
Now sure since they, such deeds as these preferre,
The Pope's a whore, her children bastards are.
All their deuotions, brings such workes about,
Oh God keepe me from being so deuout.
I hope the Papists, no excuse can make,
This treason was for their religion sake
And all the treasons, in late Elizaes raigne,
Were done by those, that did Romes Sea maintaine.
So many then, as are thereof asham'd,
Leaue Rome, serue God, and be no further blam'd.
But let obedience, to your Soueraigne proue,
Your faithfull soundnesse, and repentant loue.
And though ere long the cunning of Romes drift,
Will coyne some cause, themselues from shame to shift:
Yet those of you, that will not shamelesse be,
Come to our Church, and from Romes doctrine flee.
And you that are the simplest sort of them,
That may be thought, plaine honest meaning men.
Your ignorance, no sound deuotion teacheth,
Trust not the lyes, that Popish doctrine preacheth.
Some now I hope heauens grace to them imparted,
Will be from Rome, by Romes foule deeds conuerted.
Oh may that honor, whose heart sinnes action loath'd,
Hence forth no more, be in Romes darknesse cloath'd.
Mounte Eagles like, loue heauens all lightning sunne,
And from the clouds of Popish darknesse runne.
So many yeares the truth hath clearely shinde,
As none but those that will, can still be blinde.
Who so his eyes, against the light will shut,
Must needs himselfe in mistie darkenesse put.
Be such Religion, of the world disdain'd,
As is with treason, bloud, and murther stain'd.
Papists still blinde, let not our Ile containe them,
Send them to Rome, for all but Rome disdaines them.

From of Romes shore, my Muse her selfe doth wend,
And would her course vnto Great Briton bend.
My natiue land, oh let to her my zeale,
The euidence of loues affection seale.
Who ist that sees the wrong vnto vs done,
But will from Rome and Romes adherents runne.
God in thy loue, preserue those Princely states,
Who all as one, Romes Sea, and doctrine hates,
And those mongst vs, that of profession vant,
My little ruft, most peeuish puritant.
Whose Brownisme, must our quiet state offend,
That witlesse striues for trifles to contend.
Whose in good sooth, indeed, and verilie,
Nere knew the ground, of faiths sinceritie.
Whose folly, in a wide maskt net doth dance,
Whose zeale is but a painted ignorance.
Whose wildenesse runnes the fields and woods vnto,
Where preaching Coblers, learnes them what to doe.
Nise, curious wits, vaine, idle, wise, like dawes,
Iumpe ouer blocks, and stumble most at strawes.
When now they see, how God his Church hath loued,
Let them thereby, to ioyne with vs be moued.
And striue no more to prooue their foolerie,
Against both learning and authoritie.
Such will alone, for Christ his flock be knowne,
And will allow no Church, besides their owne.
Twixt them and those, throwne into like suspence,
There should be made, some greater difference.
Those that haue borne the burthen of the day,
And neuer ceast, to watch, to preach, to pray.
Whose loue and zeale, hath so heauens precepts taught,
As they to heauen, haue greatest number brought.
To King and State, whose hearts are constant, sound,
Whose doctrine doth on faiths saluation ground.
Let not the Church, giue to it selfe a wound,
By loosing those that are most faithfull found.
All those graue Preachers, wise and fit to teach,
For trifles, let them not refuse to preach.
But vse their tallant, Gods number to increase,
Great is the sinne, if now they holde their peace.
He doth not euill, that to his power withstands it,
But who forbids not sinne, and may, command it.
The threates of lawe, sway not affection so,
As those good deeds which righteous rulers doe,
When no man may, tell kings they doe amisse,
Then in obedience their corruption is.
But God hath sent to vs a vertuous King,
Let vertues loue, true loues obeysance bring.
Oh let our loue be to that grace not mist,
In which our selues, and all the world is blist.
The glory of that royall issues line,
Like to the sunne, their famous deeds shall shine.
For Britons weale, let all good people trie.
To crowne her fame with perpetuitie.
God so the ground of her foundation lay,
As that no strength may worke her weales decay.
Her glories, trophies, let no such earth-quake shake,
Whose force would her, the land of Ruine make.
But let the glory of her King and state,
Consume those foes that would her ruinate.
Traitors that would, in bloud our land haue drownd,
God them destroy, and all their plottes confound.
Those hearts that would, domestick warres procure,
Be they first made, of deaths destruction sure.
No home-bred broiles, may they our peace disturbe,
Such mindes, oh let the strength of iustice curbe.
Me thinkes there should be something vnderstood,
When heauen is cloath'd in cloudes of fire and bloud.
Before and since the heauens did neuer cast,
More signes then were about this treason last.
Could heathen men iudge future euils to hap,
When thunder did the Okes in peeces rap.
And if the sunne should but some signe bewraie,
Might no man dare gainst such prediction saie.
And now shall heauen both fier and bloud presage,
And we not thinke they chide this sinfull age.
Eclipses strange both of the Moone and Sunne,
When strangely they, on heapes together come.
Shall reason so, and wisdomes strength be broken,
That by such signes, there shal be nothing spoken.
Shall God oft shake, as in his furies wrath,
The solled roundle of this massie earth.
And yet we still remaine secure in sinne,
Oh no, letts all for to repent begine.
The better that our safetyes strength may grow,
Let Iosua, Acan, and his wedge hence throw.
Our peace at home, be that establisht sure,
No force abroad, can Britons wracke procure.
In ciuill warres, when souldiers armes are worne,
Vniust, tryumphe, the iust are force't to mourne.
No souldiers sword, could make Romes Empire stand,
When Rome, Rome selfe, brus'd with rebellions hand.
Let Britons, which doe God and Christ professe,
Their faiths true soundnes, by their deeds expresse.
So shall heauens God, our King and land defend,
And from his Loynes a Roiall issue send.
That on his throne, shall sit triumphantly,
Til Christ doth come in glorious dignitie.
This grace God grant, and thus shall cease my pen,
But still my heart, till death shall say Amen.

Great Brittons Ile, worlds wonder, heauens delight,
Religions strength, faiths seate, professions stay:
Confirmd, mayntaynd, vpheld, in hels despight,
That still in thee, saluation florish may.
Thy King suruiues, and on Mount Sion standes,
Protected safe, from force of traytors handes.

Thy Queene, thy Prince, thy Peeres, and Princely state,
Thy Lords, thy Bishopps, Knights, and Burgesses:
God hath preseru'd from Romes intestiue hate,
A suddaine flame, should haue consum'd, all these.
Romes traytors now, so to the world are knowne,
As treasons Mine, hath Rome, and them vp blowne.

Falshood, hells childe, in hel darke Pathes doth treade,
To hide it selfe, from truthes discerning eye:
But traytors, God will to destruction leade,
They cannot liue, from iudgements stroke to flye.
Treason is like, the Baziliske his eyes,
First seeing, kills, first being seene, it dies.

In spight of Romes proude Antichristian force,
Celestiall ioye, with heauenly comfort fills:
Their soules in whom, once toucht with sinnes remorce.
By faith in Christ, a gratious dew distills.
Rome is exilde, and this is Albions glory,
King Iames maintaines, the scriptures sacred story,

When Gods true Church, doth in her glory shine,
Why should some mindes, their wisdome so preferre:
As if they were, then scripture more diuyne,
By selfe conceipt, to feede contentions iarre.
Sunne, Moone, and Starrs, those lights too little be,
To giue them light, that will themselues not see.

A vnyon, and a vniforme, Conclude,
For trifles, let not time with truth contende:
No shadowes can, substantiall faith delude.
Indifferent things, should not the wise offend.
By ioyning all, in blessed vnitie,
With datelesse fame, Crowne Brittons monarchie.