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[The Courte of Vertu

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

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A ditie made in the tyme of the the sweatyng plague.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A ditie made in the tyme of the the sweatyng plague.

Anno. 1552.

O plague possest with mortall myght.
(so farre as god doth geue precinct)
Well mayst thou moue the christian right
Upon his lorde and God to thinke:
And shew him well by tokens playne,
How that he shall from sinne refrayne.

[97]

My flesh is frayle and shakes for feare,
My soule is strange and hath no doubt.
And hopes for health, and seketh where
It may be had, to fynde it out,
The scripture saith be strong in fayth:
And then be not afrayd of death.
In this my nede thy helpe to haue
To thee O god I crye and call,
I thee beseche my soule to saue,
From Satan synne and hell and all,
Though I O god haue done amysse:
Thy death shall me directe to blysse.
Then welcom plague the guide to helth
And death also the porte of lyfe.
Sythe that this change is perfect welth,
Out of this vale of moste vyle stryfe:
Why should we then thus feare to dye,
And end our fatall destenie.
Oh folysh flesh so fonde and frayle
To rage against all ryghteousnes,
I wyll that thou shalt not peruayle,
To folow thyne own filthynes:
For I wyll set my whole delyght,
To fight against thee with my sprite.