Regale Lectum Miseriae: or, a Kingly bed of Miserie In which is contained, a dreame: with An Elegie upon the Martyrdome of Charls, late King of England, of blessed Memory: and Another upon the Right Honourable The Lord Capel. With A curse against the Enemies of Peace, and the Authors Farewell to England. By John Quarles |
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 | Regale Lectum Miseriae: or, a Kingly bed of Miserie |  |
------Methoughts I saw
A grieved King, whose very looks were Law.
He sigh'd as if his tender heart had taken
A farewell of his body, and forsaken
This lower world, his star-like eyes were fixt
Upon the face of Heav'n, his hands conmixt.
His tongue was parsimonious, yet my eare
(That was attentive) could not prevaile to heare
This whisp'ring eccho: Oh be pleas'd t'incline
Thy sacred eares! was ever grief life mine?
Was ever heart so sad? was ever any
So destitute of joy, that had so many
As I have had? though all be snacth'd from me,
Yet let me have an interest in thee.
Oh Heaven! and there he stop'd, as if his breath
Had stept aside to entertaine a death.
My soul was ravish'd, and the private dart
Of new-bred love, struck pity to my heart,
I could not hold, but silently bequeath
Some drops unto the ground, my soule did cleave
Unto his lips, for every word he spoke
Was ponderous, and would have easily broke
Th'obdurest heart; I turn'd away my eye,
And suddenly methoughts I did espie
A sacrifice; which when I did behold,
My bloud recoiled, and my heart grew cold:
I was transported, and methoughts the place
Whereon I stood, seem'd bloudy for a space:
I trembling, cast my wearied eyes about,
Thinking to finde my former object out,
But he was gone; and in his roome was plac'd
A many-headed monster, that disgrac'd
The very place: they vanish'd, then appear'd
A large-pretending rout, as well be-ear'd
As Balam's Asse, methoughts they did excell
The Asse in eares, but could not speak so well.
Methoughts they call'd a Counsell to contrive
Their high designes, and zealously dislive
Some great Offenders that they thought too wise
To live amongst such eares, such cast-up eyes.
“One I observ'd amongst the studious race
“That had (methoughts) a bone-fire in his face:
“Another I discry'd amongst the pack
“That seem'd to bear a Kingdome on his back:
“Another I beheld which pleas'd me best,
“That could not rule himself, yet rul'd the rest:
“Another I espy'd which seem'd to look
“And read, but at the wrong end of his book:
“Another I observ'd, which seem'd to weep,
“And in conclusion, pray'd himself a sleep:
“Another I discry'd, among these Brothers,
“That vow'd 'twas right, because he'd please the others:
“Another he stood up, and wisely broke
“His long-kept silent lips, and thus bespoke.
A grieved King, whose very looks were Law.
He sigh'd as if his tender heart had taken
A farewell of his body, and forsaken
This lower world, his star-like eyes were fixt
Upon the face of Heav'n, his hands conmixt.
His tongue was parsimonious, yet my eare
(That was attentive) could not prevaile to heare
This whisp'ring eccho: Oh be pleas'd t'incline
Thy sacred eares! was ever grief life mine?
Was ever heart so sad? was ever any
So destitute of joy, that had so many
As I have had? though all be snacth'd from me,
Yet let me have an interest in thee.
4
Had stept aside to entertaine a death.
My soul was ravish'd, and the private dart
Of new-bred love, struck pity to my heart,
I could not hold, but silently bequeath
Some drops unto the ground, my soule did cleave
Unto his lips, for every word he spoke
Was ponderous, and would have easily broke
Th'obdurest heart; I turn'd away my eye,
And suddenly methoughts I did espie
A sacrifice; which when I did behold,
My bloud recoiled, and my heart grew cold:
I was transported, and methoughts the place
Whereon I stood, seem'd bloudy for a space:
I trembling, cast my wearied eyes about,
Thinking to finde my former object out,
But he was gone; and in his roome was plac'd
A many-headed monster, that disgrac'd
The very place: they vanish'd, then appear'd
A large-pretending rout, as well be-ear'd
As Balam's Asse, methoughts they did excell
The Asse in eares, but could not speak so well.
5
Their high designes, and zealously dislive
Some great Offenders that they thought too wise
To live amongst such eares, such cast-up eyes.
“One I observ'd amongst the studious race
“That had (methoughts) a bone-fire in his face:
“Another I discry'd amongst the pack
“That seem'd to bear a Kingdome on his back:
“Another I beheld which pleas'd me best,
“That could not rule himself, yet rul'd the rest:
“Another I espy'd which seem'd to look
“And read, but at the wrong end of his book:
“Another I observ'd, which seem'd to weep,
“And in conclusion, pray'd himself a sleep:
“Another I discry'd, among these Brothers,
“That vow'd 'twas right, because he'd please the others:
“Another he stood up, and wisely broke
“His long-kept silent lips, and thus bespoke.
Come! let's no longer now be kept in awe,
I'me sure our welfare is the Supreme Law;
A King, that's nothing but a power that is
Subordinate; the Lawes are ours, not His;
Is't not the People makes a King? well, then
If we let him be King, we're fools, not Men:
For now we have him in his own-made snare,
We'l keep him fast, oh that we had His haire!
I'me sure our welfare is the Supreme Law;
A King, that's nothing but a power that is
Subordinate; the Lawes are ours, not His;
6
If we let him be King, we're fools, not Men:
For now we have him in his own-made snare,
We'l keep him fast, oh that we had His haire!
Come, let's proceed, and if our plots hit right
You shall be Lords at least, and I, a Knight.
And let Malignants prate, their Purses shall
Pay tribute for their tongues at Gold-smiths-hall:
And if they grumble at what we shall doe,
We'l make them pay their lives and money too;
The day is ours, let's not abuse that powre
Which Heav'n hath lent us; for sweet things prove sowre
If not made use of, have we not been poore
And others rich? Come, let's increase our store:
Had we but our deserts, might we not crave
The priviledge of all that others have?
All's ours, and yet our miseries are such
That we are rich in little, poor in much;
Alas! our tender hearts are fill'd with pity
To see so many blind in one poor City;
If they would please in a true zealous fashion
To moderate their long-continued passion,
'Twould much rejoice the Saints, & we will pray
That they may live untill a wiser day;
The'are very pious People, and we could
Both live, and die together, if they would
But furnish our desires with every thing
We want, and dote not too much on a King;
He's but a man at most, and yet they must
Adore His Person, though He be unjust.
You shall be Lords at least, and I, a Knight.
And let Malignants prate, their Purses shall
Pay tribute for their tongues at Gold-smiths-hall:
And if they grumble at what we shall doe,
We'l make them pay their lives and money too;
The day is ours, let's not abuse that powre
Which Heav'n hath lent us; for sweet things prove sowre
If not made use of, have we not been poore
And others rich? Come, let's increase our store:
Had we but our deserts, might we not crave
The priviledge of all that others have?
All's ours, and yet our miseries are such
That we are rich in little, poor in much;
Alas! our tender hearts are fill'd with pity
To see so many blind in one poor City;
If they would please in a true zealous fashion
To moderate their long-continued passion,
7
That they may live untill a wiser day;
The'are very pious People, and we could
Both live, and die together, if they would
But furnish our desires with every thing
We want, and dote not too much on a King;
He's but a man at most, and yet they must
Adore His Person, though He be unjust.
I could not chuse but laugh the other day,
I 'spy'd a Cavalier that closely lay
Perdue to kisse his hand, and by and by
He starts away, and when he was as nigh
(That which they call a King) as his own length
His legs (not having that sufficient strength
His hast requir'd) receiv'd a sudden fall
And overturn'd himselfe, his King, and all:
The sight much pleas'd me, being very near,
I never help'd the King, nor a Cavalier:
I soone retreated from that happy place,
And left them both in a distracted case;
But as I went, I was so blest to meet
An upright Sister, whose dividing feet
Stept with such innocency; that my heart
Did almost leap upon her to impart
My new-bred joy; her very looks betray'd
Her heart, indeed she was a lovely Maid;
I bow'd my self, and zealously imbrac'd
The small circumf'rence of her bending waste,
I kiss'd her mouth, and having done that duty,
My lips divided, and I prais'd her beauty;
Extreams of joy did almost make me faint:
I thought, oh! here's a Sister for a Saint:
I was amaz'd; my very soule did move
Between the great extreams of feare, and love;
She smil'd upon me, and that very smile
Prov'd a Restorative, and for a while
I mus'd; at last my lips began to break
As that smile had licenced them to speak;
Oh! then my mouth being ram'd with words, let flie
Both wit, and language, and did soare as nigh
As our Remonstrance, oh! how I did heat
Her eares with my discourse, it was so neat
As if my ready mouth had been the Schoole
Of language, yet she pleas'd to call me Foole;
But 'twas in jest I'm sure, or were it not
'Tis nothing, since my goodnesse has forgot
My Sisters weaknesse, and indeed we men
Must bear with Sisters failings, now, and then;
They often trip in zeal, and sometimes take
A fall, and love it for the Giver's sake:
Our greatest faults they'l pardon for a buss,
Come, we must bear with them, they bear with us;
But after she had call'd me fool, she checkt
Her self; I wisely own'd it with neglect,
I spread my cloake upon the ground, and there
We cool'd our passions in the open aire:
Sister, said I, you have been pleas'd to spend
The name of Foole upon your faithfull friend,
It was my worth you rashly did eclips,
And I'le have satisfaction from those lips
That gave th'affront, let me no longer stay,
My fury will admit of no delay.
Dear Brother, she reply'd, if it be so
You must have satisfaction, tak't below;
You soare too high at first, I must detest
Your lofty play, the middle way is best;
But if you are resolv'd, you shall not say
I'm obstinate; for if you will, you may:
I soone return'd her thanks, and with my hand
I pull'd her close, and made her understand
What I had seen: but oh how she was pleas'd!
Ah verily (said she) the news has eas'd
My longing heart. But when the King fell downe
Thou wert unwise thou hadst not snatch'd His Crowne.
'Tis rarely spoken Sister, had I had
The Crown, I should have made a gallant Lad;
Should I but sway the Scepter of this Land,
I'd make my Subjects die at my command;
I'd lop the great ones off, and make the low
Subordinate to me, I'd make them know
The reines were mine; but at the first I'de steale
Into their hearts, and fool them with my zeal.
I would declare unto the world, and take
An Oath, I acted for Religions sake:
I'd fill them full of novelties, and then
Sister thou knowst the common sort of Men
(Like flies) will buz about my new-made light;
I'd call them Babes of grace, and make them fight
With Cerberus himself in my defence,
My Soule now tells me, 'tis a rare pretence:
I'd hire some baubling Preachers to infuse
Division; and to flatter them with newes.
I'd plump their soules with promises, that they
Should never faile to swear, what should I say;
I'd make my Preachers urge them all to joyne
And fight for God; then will their Plate be mine:
This is an art that lies above the reach
Of every braine: I'd suffer all to Preach
And sow sedition, every one should be
At least a Saint and preach upon a Tree:
And if my great occasions should require
Large summes of money, then would I inspire
A Publique faith; and if it would not rise
That way, I'd make the bellows of Excise
To puffe it up; this is a cleanly way
To sweep up money, Souldiers must have pay.
Sister, thou know'st 'tis no disgracing stealth
To make Religion rob the Common-wealth:
What though Malignants raile at our designes,
We can extract our livings from their fines:
I've spoke enough, now Sister I'le divorce
My nimble tongue from this profound discourse:
Now give me leave to dedicate my heart
To thee (my Patronesse) before I part.
Brother, alas! I am a harmlesse maid,
And we you know are easily betrai'd
By mens delusion: If your love be true,
The zeal of my affections light on you;
You know we ought to love, and none can be
More honest in their harmlesse loves than we,
For we may love each other in the spirit,
And pray, and preach together, and inherit
Our owne desires, whilst others send their cries
To their beloveds, and yet loose the prize.
Sister, thou hast exactly satisfy'd
My large desires: may happinesse bety'd
The thriving spirit, truly 'tis a paine
To part, but that I hope to meet againe:
London, (that nest of worth) that yeilding place,
I am resolv'd to view, within the space
Of forty howres, where I intend to spare
Some time, and see some Brethren I have there,
It is a goodly place, as fame relates,
For there the Sisters live, and all the States;
Truly, th'are very godly, and pretend
Just like our selves, to be a faithfull friend
To King, and Monarchie, when as Alas—
And then I wak'd, and let the other passe
Unutter'd, but indeed I doe confesse
I wish that I had heard a great deale lesse,
And yet (to speak the truth) I was perplext
Because I could not hear what followed next.
I 'spy'd a Cavalier that closely lay
Perdue to kisse his hand, and by and by
He starts away, and when he was as nigh
(That which they call a King) as his own length
His legs (not having that sufficient strength
His hast requir'd) receiv'd a sudden fall
And overturn'd himselfe, his King, and all:
The sight much pleas'd me, being very near,
I never help'd the King, nor a Cavalier:
I soone retreated from that happy place,
And left them both in a distracted case;
But as I went, I was so blest to meet
An upright Sister, whose dividing feet
8
Did almost leap upon her to impart
My new-bred joy; her very looks betray'd
Her heart, indeed she was a lovely Maid;
I bow'd my self, and zealously imbrac'd
The small circumf'rence of her bending waste,
I kiss'd her mouth, and having done that duty,
My lips divided, and I prais'd her beauty;
Extreams of joy did almost make me faint:
I thought, oh! here's a Sister for a Saint:
I was amaz'd; my very soule did move
Between the great extreams of feare, and love;
She smil'd upon me, and that very smile
Prov'd a Restorative, and for a while
I mus'd; at last my lips began to break
As that smile had licenced them to speak;
Oh! then my mouth being ram'd with words, let flie
Both wit, and language, and did soare as nigh
As our Remonstrance, oh! how I did heat
Her eares with my discourse, it was so neat
As if my ready mouth had been the Schoole
Of language, yet she pleas'd to call me Foole;
9
'Tis nothing, since my goodnesse has forgot
My Sisters weaknesse, and indeed we men
Must bear with Sisters failings, now, and then;
They often trip in zeal, and sometimes take
A fall, and love it for the Giver's sake:
Our greatest faults they'l pardon for a buss,
Come, we must bear with them, they bear with us;
But after she had call'd me fool, she checkt
Her self; I wisely own'd it with neglect,
I spread my cloake upon the ground, and there
We cool'd our passions in the open aire:
Sister, said I, you have been pleas'd to spend
The name of Foole upon your faithfull friend,
It was my worth you rashly did eclips,
And I'le have satisfaction from those lips
That gave th'affront, let me no longer stay,
My fury will admit of no delay.
Dear Brother, she reply'd, if it be so
You must have satisfaction, tak't below;
You soare too high at first, I must detest
Your lofty play, the middle way is best;
10
I'm obstinate; for if you will, you may:
I soone return'd her thanks, and with my hand
I pull'd her close, and made her understand
What I had seen: but oh how she was pleas'd!
Ah verily (said she) the news has eas'd
My longing heart. But when the King fell downe
Thou wert unwise thou hadst not snatch'd His Crowne.
'Tis rarely spoken Sister, had I had
The Crown, I should have made a gallant Lad;
Should I but sway the Scepter of this Land,
I'd make my Subjects die at my command;
I'd lop the great ones off, and make the low
Subordinate to me, I'd make them know
The reines were mine; but at the first I'de steale
Into their hearts, and fool them with my zeal.
I would declare unto the world, and take
An Oath, I acted for Religions sake:
I'd fill them full of novelties, and then
Sister thou knowst the common sort of Men
(Like flies) will buz about my new-made light;
I'd call them Babes of grace, and make them fight
11
My Soule now tells me, 'tis a rare pretence:
I'd hire some baubling Preachers to infuse
Division; and to flatter them with newes.
I'd plump their soules with promises, that they
Should never faile to swear, what should I say;
I'd make my Preachers urge them all to joyne
And fight for God; then will their Plate be mine:
This is an art that lies above the reach
Of every braine: I'd suffer all to Preach
And sow sedition, every one should be
At least a Saint and preach upon a Tree:
And if my great occasions should require
Large summes of money, then would I inspire
A Publique faith; and if it would not rise
That way, I'd make the bellows of Excise
To puffe it up; this is a cleanly way
To sweep up money, Souldiers must have pay.
Sister, thou know'st 'tis no disgracing stealth
To make Religion rob the Common-wealth:
What though Malignants raile at our designes,
We can extract our livings from their fines:
12
My nimble tongue from this profound discourse:
Now give me leave to dedicate my heart
To thee (my Patronesse) before I part.
Brother, alas! I am a harmlesse maid,
And we you know are easily betrai'd
By mens delusion: If your love be true,
The zeal of my affections light on you;
You know we ought to love, and none can be
More honest in their harmlesse loves than we,
For we may love each other in the spirit,
And pray, and preach together, and inherit
Our owne desires, whilst others send their cries
To their beloveds, and yet loose the prize.
Sister, thou hast exactly satisfy'd
My large desires: may happinesse bety'd
The thriving spirit, truly 'tis a paine
To part, but that I hope to meet againe:
London, (that nest of worth) that yeilding place,
I am resolv'd to view, within the space
Of forty howres, where I intend to spare
Some time, and see some Brethren I have there,
13
For there the Sisters live, and all the States;
Truly, th'are very godly, and pretend
Just like our selves, to be a faithfull friend
To King, and Monarchie, when as Alas—
And then I wak'd, and let the other passe
Unutter'd, but indeed I doe confesse
I wish that I had heard a great deale lesse,
And yet (to speak the truth) I was perplext
Because I could not hear what followed next.
This was a midnights dreame, I was in paine
Till night had lull'd me in her armes againe,
And for the space of half a tedious howre
I was disturb'd, till sleep had gain'd some power
Over my slumb'ring senses, but at last
Call'd to the bar of sleep, I there was cast:
I had not long in peacefull pleasure slumber'd,
Before an interposing dreame incumber'd
My quiet fancy, suddenly my eare
Was fill'd with such a noise, as none could heare
Without much fear, as if th'incurved back
Of burth'ned Atlas had begun to crack.
Methoughts I saw the Heav'ns how they begun
(As if th'ad scorn'd the glory of the Sun)
To frowne upon the earth, which seem'd to flame
Like sulpherous Etna from whose bowels came
Whole Regiments of Spirits which disturb'd
The aire, whose fury hated to be curb'd;
Methoughts they were ambitious to expell
Some Potentate, and make his seat, their Hell:
Methoughts at last (I slumb'ring) seem'd to heare
A single voice that whisper'd in my eare,
Yet thund'red in my heart, which made me grone
At every word; exprest in such a tone
Which would with great facility have turn'd
A Tyrants heart, or else consum'd and burn'd
His breast to ashes, and if language could
Move pity in a flinty-soule, this would,
He bolted forth his griefs, like claps of thunder,
As if each word should cleave a heart in sunder;
His voice being guarded with a pleasing force,
I sacrific'd my eares to his discourse;
Methoughts my soule, my very eares were blest
In giving audience, whilst he thus exprest.
Till night had lull'd me in her armes againe,
And for the space of half a tedious howre
I was disturb'd, till sleep had gain'd some power
Over my slumb'ring senses, but at last
Call'd to the bar of sleep, I there was cast:
I had not long in peacefull pleasure slumber'd,
Before an interposing dreame incumber'd
My quiet fancy, suddenly my eare
Was fill'd with such a noise, as none could heare
Without much fear, as if th'incurved back
Of burth'ned Atlas had begun to crack.
14
(As if th'ad scorn'd the glory of the Sun)
To frowne upon the earth, which seem'd to flame
Like sulpherous Etna from whose bowels came
Whole Regiments of Spirits which disturb'd
The aire, whose fury hated to be curb'd;
Methoughts they were ambitious to expell
Some Potentate, and make his seat, their Hell:
Methoughts at last (I slumb'ring) seem'd to heare
A single voice that whisper'd in my eare,
Yet thund'red in my heart, which made me grone
At every word; exprest in such a tone
Which would with great facility have turn'd
A Tyrants heart, or else consum'd and burn'd
His breast to ashes, and if language could
Move pity in a flinty-soule, this would,
He bolted forth his griefs, like claps of thunder,
As if each word should cleave a heart in sunder;
His voice being guarded with a pleasing force,
I sacrific'd my eares to his discourse;
Methoughts my soule, my very eares were blest
In giving audience, whilst he thus exprest.
15
Oh Heaven! oh Earth! how can they chuse but frown
To see them make a foot-ball of a Crown?
How long shall I be made an aym'd at mark
Of pointed envie? shall they make me dark
That I made light? and shall that light devoure
The former principle? Unhappy howre
When my abused willingnesse was made
A Stalk-horse unto those, who have bet'rayd
An Island unto tyranny; whose Lawes
Oppresse true Subjects, and make me the Cause:
Malitious age, and will their fury have
My end, untill it send me to my grave?
A grave most peacefull Place, for I'm sure
There's no Rebellion; there I'le rest secure
Where neither grief, nor care, shall date torment
My sublime soule, there, there lies true content.
There there's the death of sorrow, and the life
Of Peace, and there's a period to all strife.
There's none can mock my woes, there's none can trie
A King, nor make a Garrison, but I.
And what I spake, my soule protests is true,
I am no slave to death, but unto you
My soul's my Gods, and Tyrants doe your worst.
To see them make a foot-ball of a Crown?
How long shall I be made an aym'd at mark
Of pointed envie? shall they make me dark
That I made light? and shall that light devoure
The former principle? Unhappy howre
When my abused willingnesse was made
A Stalk-horse unto those, who have bet'rayd
An Island unto tyranny; whose Lawes
Oppresse true Subjects, and make me the Cause:
Malitious age, and will their fury have
My end, untill it send me to my grave?
A grave most peacefull Place, for I'm sure
There's no Rebellion; there I'le rest secure
Where neither grief, nor care, shall date torment
My sublime soule, there, there lies true content.
There there's the death of sorrow, and the life
Of Peace, and there's a period to all strife.
There's none can mock my woes, there's none can trie
A King, nor make a Garrison, but I.
And what I spake, my soule protests is true,
I am no slave to death, but unto you
16
Job's soul was free, when's body was accurst.
But you bloud-thirsty Zelots, learn to know
You never can rise high, if I fall low.
I fear no threats, let torments all conjoyne
Themselves, at last ye'l find them yours, not mine.
What though I suffer here, my sufferings shall
Advance my soul; May they not make you fall?
Let out my life, goe make a streaming floud,
And bath your selves in my diffused bloud.
Let loose your furies, give your passions breath;
And let them biat my body unto death.
I am resolv'd, my heart shall flie above
The reach of fear, and view the God of love;
Consider well, what glory can accrew
From my destruction, to such soules as you;
Be not too rash, but know a cause that's dy'd
In guiltlesse bloud cannot be justify'd,
A prosperous vice shall never claime a right
To perpetuity, 'twill but in-right
A totall ruine, 'tis a greater Fame
To die with virtue, than to live with shame:
You seek for truth, and yet you goe the way
To make the field of truth a Golgatha;
There is a great antipathy between
Faction, and Feate, and yet my eyes have seen
How you (whose restlesse spirits, still increase
With Faction) seem to study for a Peace;
Doe not mistake, for they that will compose
A difference, must never doe't by blowes.
The worst of Apprehensions may descrie
You nourish Spiders, and destroy the Flie.
Who glories in a crime, will in conclusion
Receive a curse, and with that curse confusion:
I long to be resolv'd, pray tell me why
Ye thinke ye cannot live, except I die?
Your thoughts are vain, 'twill be a tainted breath
That has it's derivation from my death.
Am I a Basiliske? and can my eyes
Devoure you? for you know my body lies
Subject to be destroy'd, not to destroy
(By taking up of Arms) your Kingly joy:
But you suppose, If I should long survive,
I would become laborious, and contrive
Some new designes, & with my numerous forces
Divert the streame of your unlawfull courses;
Make reason your Companions, walke a while,
Consult together, stride not o're the stile
When as the gap lies open, they're unwise
That will (when they foresee a harme) despise
Preventing means; for if you take this life
From my enjoyment, ye'l beget a strife
That will not end, and when that strife is bred
Then will my wrongs survive, though I am dead,
And you that caus'd my guiltlesse heart to bleed
Will find another to revenge the deed;
Aske Heaven's forgivenesse, for ye cannot crave
Leave to abscond your crimes within my Grave:
Be well assur'd, that ev'ry drop which parts
Out of my veins, shall cleave unto your hearts
Like tangling bird-lime which will hold you fast,
And vengance too, shall find you out at last,
Heav'ns all-surveying eye must needs observe
Your late unpolish'd actions, which deserve
As many torments as th'inraged hand
Of veng'ance can impose, or Heav'n command:
Did I not labour with a serious brest
During the Treaty, to restore some rest
To this distemper'd Kingdome; but the gales
Of Malice, wore oppugnant to my sailes;
My heart was loaded with the large encrease
Of hopeful thoughts, my soul was fill'd with peace
But at the last my hopes prov'd uselesse drosse,
And then I lost a Crowne, and found a Crosse;
Heav'n heare my wish, oh grant I may cōmence
A Doctor, in the art of Patience!
It matters not how poor my Person be,
If at the last I may be crown'd with thee,
Thou knowst the secret corners of my heart
Which is at thy disposing, for thou art
The King of Kings, and unto thee i'le pay
The tribute of my soul, both night, and day.
I am thy Subject, give me grace to stand
Firmly obedient to thy just command.
When for my sins I shall receive thy blowes,
Oh give me power to suffer, not oppose!
Pardon my Enemies which have been strong,
And alwayes studious how to doe me wrong:
And though they'ave vented that which is untrue,
Father forgive, they know not what they doe.
They hate their King, & are not pleasd with any,
O grant, good God, they may not find too many
The chiefest of their worke, is to devoure;
(Stones have usurpt their hearts, as they my powre!)
Against the sound of Peace, their eares are bar'd
Oh never sure, was Pharaohs heart so hard.
They disrespect their King; it was not so
With Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego;
Their tongues have vilifi'd me oftentimes,
These three were never guilty of such Crimes;
Their hearts had vow'd obedience to their King,
And never try'd by force of Armes to bring
Their own Designes to passe; but their submission
Sent comfort to their souls, and much contrition
To him, whose more then seven times heated brest
Did soon regrest what his hot rage exprest.
But you bloud-thirsty Zelots, learn to know
You never can rise high, if I fall low.
I fear no threats, let torments all conjoyne
Themselves, at last ye'l find them yours, not mine.
What though I suffer here, my sufferings shall
Advance my soul; May they not make you fall?
Let out my life, goe make a streaming floud,
And bath your selves in my diffused bloud.
Let loose your furies, give your passions breath;
And let them biat my body unto death.
I am resolv'd, my heart shall flie above
The reach of fear, and view the God of love;
Consider well, what glory can accrew
From my destruction, to such soules as you;
Be not too rash, but know a cause that's dy'd
In guiltlesse bloud cannot be justify'd,
A prosperous vice shall never claime a right
To perpetuity, 'twill but in-right
A totall ruine, 'tis a greater Fame
To die with virtue, than to live with shame:
17
To make the field of truth a Golgatha;
There is a great antipathy between
Faction, and Feate, and yet my eyes have seen
How you (whose restlesse spirits, still increase
With Faction) seem to study for a Peace;
Doe not mistake, for they that will compose
A difference, must never doe't by blowes.
The worst of Apprehensions may descrie
You nourish Spiders, and destroy the Flie.
Who glories in a crime, will in conclusion
Receive a curse, and with that curse confusion:
I long to be resolv'd, pray tell me why
Ye thinke ye cannot live, except I die?
Your thoughts are vain, 'twill be a tainted breath
That has it's derivation from my death.
Am I a Basiliske? and can my eyes
Devoure you? for you know my body lies
Subject to be destroy'd, not to destroy
(By taking up of Arms) your Kingly joy:
But you suppose, If I should long survive,
I would become laborious, and contrive
18
Divert the streame of your unlawfull courses;
Make reason your Companions, walke a while,
Consult together, stride not o're the stile
When as the gap lies open, they're unwise
That will (when they foresee a harme) despise
Preventing means; for if you take this life
From my enjoyment, ye'l beget a strife
That will not end, and when that strife is bred
Then will my wrongs survive, though I am dead,
And you that caus'd my guiltlesse heart to bleed
Will find another to revenge the deed;
Aske Heaven's forgivenesse, for ye cannot crave
Leave to abscond your crimes within my Grave:
Be well assur'd, that ev'ry drop which parts
Out of my veins, shall cleave unto your hearts
Like tangling bird-lime which will hold you fast,
And vengance too, shall find you out at last,
Heav'ns all-surveying eye must needs observe
Your late unpolish'd actions, which deserve
As many torments as th'inraged hand
Of veng'ance can impose, or Heav'n command:
19
During the Treaty, to restore some rest
To this distemper'd Kingdome; but the gales
Of Malice, wore oppugnant to my sailes;
My heart was loaded with the large encrease
Of hopeful thoughts, my soul was fill'd with peace
But at the last my hopes prov'd uselesse drosse,
And then I lost a Crowne, and found a Crosse;
Heav'n heare my wish, oh grant I may cōmence
A Doctor, in the art of Patience!
It matters not how poor my Person be,
If at the last I may be crown'd with thee,
Thou knowst the secret corners of my heart
Which is at thy disposing, for thou art
The King of Kings, and unto thee i'le pay
The tribute of my soul, both night, and day.
I am thy Subject, give me grace to stand
Firmly obedient to thy just command.
When for my sins I shall receive thy blowes,
Oh give me power to suffer, not oppose!
Pardon my Enemies which have been strong,
And alwayes studious how to doe me wrong:
20
Father forgive, they know not what they doe.
They hate their King, & are not pleasd with any,
O grant, good God, they may not find too many
The chiefest of their worke, is to devoure;
(Stones have usurpt their hearts, as they my powre!)
Against the sound of Peace, their eares are bar'd
Oh never sure, was Pharaohs heart so hard.
They disrespect their King; it was not so
With Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego;
Their tongues have vilifi'd me oftentimes,
These three were never guilty of such Crimes;
Their hearts had vow'd obedience to their King,
And never try'd by force of Armes to bring
Their own Designes to passe; but their submission
Sent comfort to their souls, and much contrition
To him, whose more then seven times heated brest
Did soon regrest what his hot rage exprest.
But well, since thus it is, I'le strive to sway
The Scepter of my miseries, and lay
A good foundation, that my Foes may build
Their torments on my breast, which shall be fill'd
With true content, I'le labour to support,
(But yet must yeeld, when death shal storm the fort)
I cannot start at death, I know it brings
A finis to my ancient griefs, and sings
Anthems of Peace: how happy's he that can
Flie to his God, and scorne the rage of Man:
The Scepter of my miseries, and lay
A good foundation, that my Foes may build
Their torments on my breast, which shall be fill'd
21
(But yet must yeeld, when death shal storm the fort)
I cannot start at death, I know it brings
A finis to my ancient griefs, and sings
Anthems of Peace: how happy's he that can
Flie to his God, and scorne the rage of Man:
Thunder ye Sons of tyranny, let rage
Flash from your sulph'rous souls, strive to ingage
The flames of Etna too, and let them dash
Against my breasts I'le owne them as a flash;
Flatter your souls, prepare your hands to do
A deed, that Heav'n will not advise you to.
I pitty you, my heart cannot forbeare
To sigh; and Nature too, commands a teare;
Oh that my head (like to a Fountaine) could
Furnish my eyes with teares, oh then I would
Begin the morning, and conclude the day
With Dropps, and wash the black-brow'd night away;
Oh let my language whet your dull belief,
'Twas you that fill'd my flowing heart with grief,
And now my Torments more and more excell,
Heav'n grant me breath enough to bid Farewell.
Farewell; sad word, that like a bolt of thunder
Hath more then cleft my reaving heart in sunder.
Death's nothing like the sorrow which I finde
Rasing a towre of woe within my minde.
Flash from your sulph'rous souls, strive to ingage
The flames of Etna too, and let them dash
Against my breasts I'le owne them as a flash;
Flatter your souls, prepare your hands to do
A deed, that Heav'n will not advise you to.
I pitty you, my heart cannot forbeare
To sigh; and Nature too, commands a teare;
Oh that my head (like to a Fountaine) could
Furnish my eyes with teares, oh then I would
Begin the morning, and conclude the day
With Dropps, and wash the black-brow'd night away;
Oh let my language whet your dull belief,
'Twas you that fill'd my flowing heart with grief,
And now my Torments more and more excell,
Heav'n grant me breath enough to bid Farewell.
22
Hath more then cleft my reaving heart in sunder.
Death's nothing like the sorrow which I finde
Rasing a towre of woe within my minde.
Thou partner of my soul, how can I die
And leave thee here to weep a Lullaby
To my indulgent babes, how can it be
That I must leave so dear a spouse as thee.
Poor hearts, If I must goe and leave you all
Confus'd together in the common hall
Of this inraged world, what will ye doe
But mourne for me, as I have mourn'd for you?
Oh where will you retire your selves, and spend
Your groaning houres, oh what regarding friend
Will give a minnits audience, or relieve
Your pining wants, or moan to hear you grieve?
What Nation will regard, or entertaine
(A royall) though a miserable traine;
This is a sorrow that divides my breast;
This is a grief that cannot be exprest
Without a fractur'd heart, this is a wound
That makes confusion active to confound.
Were it a possibility to have
Ten thousand Lyons lodg'd within this Cave,
(This trunke of mine) they could not more torment
My heart, then this unbounded discontent;
Should all the Tyrants in the world contrive
A way to make a dying soul survive
With living paine, they never could exceed
The Tyrants of these Times in such a deed;
I have been long imprison'd; and at last
Call'd to the barr; how soon I may be cast
Heav'n knows, not I, for they that were so bold
To bring me thither, will, if not controul'd,
Force me to death, their very looks declare
Their resolutions, whilst their hearts prepare
To suck my veins; Ah thus they have betray'd me,
And smile to see how glorious they have made me
They swell'd like mountain:, and at last brough forth
The Mouse of Reformation, whose worth
Is seated in all lofty braines, and hurl'd
Through every corner of th'inquiring World.
But why should I insist upon your Crimes.
May heav'n forgive you, and send better times:
I know my dayes are short, 'tis therefore meet
To leave this crowne, and buy a winding-sheet,
Be gon terrestiall pleasures, for ye are
But Goalers to your Keepers, and insnare
Your fond beleevers, goe, my heart's no tombe
To give you buriall, seek some other roome;
Fly then my soul; but stay, what hand is this
That seems to hold me from my long'd for blisse;
More sorrows yet; will not th'almighty please
'T afford my soul on earth a minnits ease,
Oh thou that mak'st my harvest full of paines,
Grant that my working soul may reap the gaines;
Grief's grown a Pollitition, and it keeps
A strong reserve; what eye is this that weeps
These briny tears into my fluent heart,
As if those floods should drownd me e're I part;
What voice is this I seem to heare? what tones
Are these that lavish out themselves in groanes?
What ayles my thoughts? what neer related breath
Is this that seems to breath a sudden death
Into my panting breast? methinks I heare
A female voice, cry, must I languish here?
Hard-hearted death, why art thou thus unkinde
To take him hence and leave me here behinde
To weep his obsequies, draw up thy boe,
And send me whether I desire to goe.
Shoot, shoot, oh Death, thou shalt not be withstood,
Come dip thy arrows in my crimson blood,
Feare not, let fly, and let thy rovers hide
Their twi-fork'd heads within my wounded side:
And leave thee here to weep a Lullaby
To my indulgent babes, how can it be
That I must leave so dear a spouse as thee.
Poor hearts, If I must goe and leave you all
Confus'd together in the common hall
Of this inraged world, what will ye doe
But mourne for me, as I have mourn'd for you?
Oh where will you retire your selves, and spend
Your groaning houres, oh what regarding friend
Will give a minnits audience, or relieve
Your pining wants, or moan to hear you grieve?
What Nation will regard, or entertaine
(A royall) though a miserable traine;
This is a sorrow that divides my breast;
This is a grief that cannot be exprest
Without a fractur'd heart, this is a wound
That makes confusion active to confound.
23
Ten thousand Lyons lodg'd within this Cave,
(This trunke of mine) they could not more torment
My heart, then this unbounded discontent;
Should all the Tyrants in the world contrive
A way to make a dying soul survive
With living paine, they never could exceed
The Tyrants of these Times in such a deed;
I have been long imprison'd; and at last
Call'd to the barr; how soon I may be cast
Heav'n knows, not I, for they that were so bold
To bring me thither, will, if not controul'd,
Force me to death, their very looks declare
Their resolutions, whilst their hearts prepare
To suck my veins; Ah thus they have betray'd me,
And smile to see how glorious they have made me
They swell'd like mountain:, and at last brough forth
The Mouse of Reformation, whose worth
Is seated in all lofty braines, and hurl'd
Through every corner of th'inquiring World.
But why should I insist upon your Crimes.
May heav'n forgive you, and send better times:
24
To leave this crowne, and buy a winding-sheet,
Be gon terrestiall pleasures, for ye are
But Goalers to your Keepers, and insnare
Your fond beleevers, goe, my heart's no tombe
To give you buriall, seek some other roome;
Fly then my soul; but stay, what hand is this
That seems to hold me from my long'd for blisse;
More sorrows yet; will not th'almighty please
'T afford my soul on earth a minnits ease,
Oh thou that mak'st my harvest full of paines,
Grant that my working soul may reap the gaines;
Grief's grown a Pollitition, and it keeps
A strong reserve; what eye is this that weeps
These briny tears into my fluent heart,
As if those floods should drownd me e're I part;
What voice is this I seem to heare? what tones
Are these that lavish out themselves in groanes?
What ayles my thoughts? what neer related breath
Is this that seems to breath a sudden death
Into my panting breast? methinks I heare
A female voice, cry, must I languish here?
25
To take him hence and leave me here behinde
To weep his obsequies, draw up thy boe,
And send me whether I desire to goe.
Shoot, shoot, oh Death, thou shalt not be withstood,
Come dip thy arrows in my crimson blood,
Feare not, let fly, and let thy rovers hide
Their twi-fork'd heads within my wounded side:
Oh Heav'n, since thou wert pleas'd to joyn our hands
And hearts together, let thy strict cōmands
Urge death to strike us both, that we may fly,
And dedicate our souls t'eternity;
Alasse, what joy, what comfort can acrew
To me, when he shall bid this world adue.
I liv'd within his heart, but ah, if he
Shall quit this earth, what life remaines in me.
Alasse sad heart, what canst thou doe but pine;
Never could grief be parralel'd with mine;
I am the sea of grief, all streames doe tend
Towards me, for ah my sorrows know no end;
The sturdy winds of care, and trouble blowes
Into my soul, my Ocean alwayes flowes
And never ebbes; oh miserable age;
How am I made a subject to their rage
Whose pare-boyl'd souls observe no other dyet
But blood; and seem to rest, in our disquiet;
You all-exceeding Tyrants, if ye thirst
For royall blood, be pleas'd to take mine first,
Mines but a draught, yee'le quickly swill it up,
Alas, it will not yeeld each soul a supp;
You are the fountains from whose brests do spring
The streames of murder, and your souls can sing
Nothing but bloody notes; you can contract
The body of all mischief, and enact
What pleases you; But will you subjugate
Your legall King, whose patience is your hate;
But if you seek his fatall overthrow,
Ye'le murder more then thousands at one blow;
But why doe I thus lavish breath in vain,
On those whose fury have no ears; refraine
My trembling tongue; Tyrants; Ile leave you here,
And turn my thoughts to Charls, whose lif's as dear
To me, as death is cheap to you; Alasse,
My heart is full, I cannot let thee passe
Without a sigh, nor can my eyes forbeare
To wash thy sad remembrance with a teare;
Has Heav'n decreed it? must we be devided
Deare King; and must our sorrows be derided;
Thou great Recorder of my thoughts, to thee
I will resigne; command, and I will be
A subject to thy will; Oh let me have
Thy gracious pardon, then a speedy grave,
For ah what comfort can my wasting breast
Hope to receive, when I am dispossest
Of such a Ioy, alas where shall I seate
My heart; teares are my drink, and sighes my meate,
These palled lippes of mine shall never dare
To owne a smile; I'le live with grief and care,
Except my God will please to take me hence,
And make his glorious Kingdome my defence;
Was it not grief enough to be absented
Five yeers from him, whose absence was lamented
With reall dropps, yet then I could obtaine
Some hopes to see him in his throne againe.
And hearts together, let thy strict cōmands
Urge death to strike us both, that we may fly,
And dedicate our souls t'eternity;
Alasse, what joy, what comfort can acrew
To me, when he shall bid this world adue.
I liv'd within his heart, but ah, if he
Shall quit this earth, what life remaines in me.
Alasse sad heart, what canst thou doe but pine;
Never could grief be parralel'd with mine;
I am the sea of grief, all streames doe tend
Towards me, for ah my sorrows know no end;
The sturdy winds of care, and trouble blowes
Into my soul, my Ocean alwayes flowes
26
How am I made a subject to their rage
Whose pare-boyl'd souls observe no other dyet
But blood; and seem to rest, in our disquiet;
You all-exceeding Tyrants, if ye thirst
For royall blood, be pleas'd to take mine first,
Mines but a draught, yee'le quickly swill it up,
Alas, it will not yeeld each soul a supp;
You are the fountains from whose brests do spring
The streames of murder, and your souls can sing
Nothing but bloody notes; you can contract
The body of all mischief, and enact
What pleases you; But will you subjugate
Your legall King, whose patience is your hate;
But if you seek his fatall overthrow,
Ye'le murder more then thousands at one blow;
But why doe I thus lavish breath in vain,
On those whose fury have no ears; refraine
My trembling tongue; Tyrants; Ile leave you here,
And turn my thoughts to Charls, whose lif's as dear
To me, as death is cheap to you; Alasse,
My heart is full, I cannot let thee passe
27
To wash thy sad remembrance with a teare;
Has Heav'n decreed it? must we be devided
Deare King; and must our sorrows be derided;
Thou great Recorder of my thoughts, to thee
I will resigne; command, and I will be
A subject to thy will; Oh let me have
Thy gracious pardon, then a speedy grave,
For ah what comfort can my wasting breast
Hope to receive, when I am dispossest
Of such a Ioy, alas where shall I seate
My heart; teares are my drink, and sighes my meate,
These palled lippes of mine shall never dare
To owne a smile; I'le live with grief and care,
Except my God will please to take me hence,
And make his glorious Kingdome my defence;
Was it not grief enough to be absented
Five yeers from him, whose absence was lamented
With reall dropps, yet then I could obtaine
Some hopes to see him in his throne againe.
But harke! methinks my Fancy seems to heare
An aire of comfort breathing in my eare,
It is the voice of Charles, whose pleasing breath
Seems to advance me from the shades of death,
Methinkes I heare his language, which distills
Out from the Limbicke of his soul, and fills
My pining heart with a triumphing joy
His voice revives me, but his words destroy,
He thus proceeds;—oh thou that are the vine
Which twists about this twining heart of mine,
Approach my presence, and I will declare
How great my suffrings, and my comforts are:
An aire of comfort breathing in my eare,
28
Seems to advance me from the shades of death,
Methinkes I heare his language, which distills
Out from the Limbicke of his soul, and fills
My pining heart with a triumphing joy
His voice revives me, but his words destroy,
He thus proceeds;—oh thou that are the vine
Which twists about this twining heart of mine,
Approach my presence, and I will declare
How great my suffrings, and my comforts are:
First I was tost, and banded too, and froe
From place, to place, permitted not to goe
Without a guard, a guard that did pretend
Rather to act a murder, then defend:
Then was I hurred to that fatall place
Of London, where I know I must uncase
My willing soul, which shall rejoyce, when they
That are my Iudges shall presume to lay
Their accusations on me, and declare
My new-coyn'd faults, with their pretended care.
And to advance their plotts, they first infirr
I am a Tyrant, and a Murderer,
Nay, and a Traytor too; If so it be
That I'm a Tyrant, where's my Tyranny?
Or if a Murderer; I here require
To know whose blood it was that quench'd my fire.
Suppose (but Heav'n forbid) it should be true,
It was against my God I sinn'd, not you.
Oh what an age is this, where seeming Reason
Pretends to make me, Traytor, without Treason:
Death; come, and welcome, to my heart, I know
That my Redeemer lives, and that I owe
A debt to Nature, which cannot be pay'd
Till these condemned corps of mine are lay'd;
Now grief be gon, and let my comforts take
Possession of my soul, awake, awake
My slumbring senses, I'le tryumph and sing,
For I have found, that Death hath lost her sting;
My soul informes me, that I must lay downe
This Mortall for a true immortall Crowne,
I'm ravish'd with delight, methinks I have
A Heav'n within my bosome, to inslave
The Hell of torments; grief must stand aloof,
Not daring to approach within my roof;
The pleasures of this world doe seem to run,
And fly (like mists) before the morning Sun,
They're all but transetory; and can lay
No claime to perpetuity, to day
They seem like messengers of Joy; to morrow
They prove sad Heraulds, & proclaime a sorrow.
As for the Joyes of heav'n, they farre surmount
My souls arethmatick, I cannot count
Those numerous delights, which alwayes be
Attendants to the souls eternitie:
Thou great Redeemer, to whose sacred powre
I now addresse my self, my long'd for houre
Is almost come, ther's but a little blase
Remains behinde, and yet methinks my dayes
Seem tedious to my soul; I long to throw
This burden downe, that presses me below,
But since thy pleasure must be done, not mine
Call when thou pleasest; for my soul is thine;
I'le not resist thy hand; but kisse thy rod,
I am thy Creature, thou my gracious God:
From place, to place, permitted not to goe
Without a guard, a guard that did pretend
Rather to act a murder, then defend:
Then was I hurred to that fatall place
Of London, where I know I must uncase
My willing soul, which shall rejoyce, when they
That are my Iudges shall presume to lay
Their accusations on me, and declare
My new-coyn'd faults, with their pretended care.
And to advance their plotts, they first infirr
I am a Tyrant, and a Murderer,
29
That I'm a Tyrant, where's my Tyranny?
Or if a Murderer; I here require
To know whose blood it was that quench'd my fire.
Suppose (but Heav'n forbid) it should be true,
It was against my God I sinn'd, not you.
Oh what an age is this, where seeming Reason
Pretends to make me, Traytor, without Treason:
Death; come, and welcome, to my heart, I know
That my Redeemer lives, and that I owe
A debt to Nature, which cannot be pay'd
Till these condemned corps of mine are lay'd;
Now grief be gon, and let my comforts take
Possession of my soul, awake, awake
My slumbring senses, I'le tryumph and sing,
For I have found, that Death hath lost her sting;
My soul informes me, that I must lay downe
This Mortall for a true immortall Crowne,
I'm ravish'd with delight, methinks I have
A Heav'n within my bosome, to inslave
The Hell of torments; grief must stand aloof,
Not daring to approach within my roof;
30
And fly (like mists) before the morning Sun,
They're all but transetory; and can lay
No claime to perpetuity, to day
They seem like messengers of Joy; to morrow
They prove sad Heraulds, & proclaime a sorrow.
As for the Joyes of heav'n, they farre surmount
My souls arethmatick, I cannot count
Those numerous delights, which alwayes be
Attendants to the souls eternitie:
Thou great Redeemer, to whose sacred powre
I now addresse my self, my long'd for houre
Is almost come, ther's but a little blase
Remains behinde, and yet methinks my dayes
Seem tedious to my soul; I long to throw
This burden downe, that presses me below,
But since thy pleasure must be done, not mine
Call when thou pleasest; for my soul is thine;
I'le not resist thy hand; but kisse thy rod,
I am thy Creature, thou my gracious God:
Come my indulgent Ioyes, and let my breath
Inhabbit in your eares before my death,
Thou Consort of my heart, why dost thou waste
Those pearly dropps, why do they make such hast
To leave the sweet possessions of thy eyes,
What? wi't thou make a watry Sacrifice;
Oh doe not weep, Heav'n is not pleas'd to see
Those gliding streames, which trickle down for me;
My tender Babes, oh why doe you stand by
And imitate your Mothers stormy eye,
Restraine those tears; for every drop you shed
Falls on my moyst'ned heart, and there hath bred
A brim-fill'd fountaine, which at last will dround
My heart, and give your selves the greatest wound.
Let not, oh let not, your sad eyes exprssse
So great a sorrow, for my happinesse;
Cheer up; cheer up deare souls, & learne to keep
Those tears, or weep, to see your Mother weep,
Weep not for me, I'm going to receive
A lasting Crowne, oh leave (for heav'ns sake) leave
Those heart-infringing groans, why doe ye vex
My Heav'n-desiring soul, and thus perplex
Your pensive hearts, forbeare, and be appeasd,
Be not displeased, with what Heav'n is pleas'd;
Oh how can ye expect that hee'l fulfill
Your large desires, if thus you thwart his will;
Come smile upon me, and that smile will give
My heart a great incouragement to live,
Death's but a speedy passage from this life,
Unto a better, and concludes all strife
Between this World and us, whilst here we draw
Corrupted aire we're subject to the law
Of grief and care, which daily circumvents
Discordious hearts with griping discontents.
Be not dejected at my death, but rather
Rejoyce, to think that heav'n will be your father,
Comfort your woefull mother, that hath been
A carefull Parent, and my loyall Queen;
Give her that full Obedience which is due,
And Heav'n will be affectionate to you.
Oh let the feare of God be alwaes plac'd
Before your eyes; Let virtue be imbrac'd;
What ere ye doe, be carefull to reserve
A spotlesse minde, which will at last preserve
Your heav'n-bred souls, let not your furies rage
Into revenge, but labour to asswage
The flames of anger, let them not aspire
Beyond your reach; Passion's the worst of fire:
Be not too much addicted to the hate
Of any, but be wisely moderate,
And when your hands begin to undertake
A consequentiall worke, be sure t'awake
Your slumb'ring reasons, labour to advise
With hea'n, and he will crowne your enterprise
With full successe; and if your foes should chance
To gaine the day, permit your thoughts to glance
Upon your private Crimes, and learne to know
Th'effect can never absolutely show
The justnesse of a cause, for oftentimes
Just Heav'n is pleas'd to punishing private Crimes
With publique means; God knows my cause was iust;
An yet he lay'd my Armies in the dust:
Shall I repine because I dayly see
My foes prevaile, and triumph over me,
No, no I will not, they shall live to dye,
When I shall dye, to live, and glorifie
The Generall of Heav'n, within wohse Tent
I hope to rest, where Time will ne're be spent.
But now, ah now, these lipps must bid farewell,
Methinks I hear (Deaths Orator) the Bell
Plead for an issue, and I must not stay,
Death comes in haste, and I must post away:
Inhabbit in your eares before my death,
31
Those pearly dropps, why do they make such hast
To leave the sweet possessions of thy eyes,
What? wi't thou make a watry Sacrifice;
Oh doe not weep, Heav'n is not pleas'd to see
Those gliding streames, which trickle down for me;
My tender Babes, oh why doe you stand by
And imitate your Mothers stormy eye,
Restraine those tears; for every drop you shed
Falls on my moyst'ned heart, and there hath bred
A brim-fill'd fountaine, which at last will dround
My heart, and give your selves the greatest wound.
Let not, oh let not, your sad eyes exprssse
So great a sorrow, for my happinesse;
Cheer up; cheer up deare souls, & learne to keep
Those tears, or weep, to see your Mother weep,
Weep not for me, I'm going to receive
A lasting Crowne, oh leave (for heav'ns sake) leave
Those heart-infringing groans, why doe ye vex
My Heav'n-desiring soul, and thus perplex
Your pensive hearts, forbeare, and be appeasd,
Be not displeased, with what Heav'n is pleas'd;
32
Your large desires, if thus you thwart his will;
Come smile upon me, and that smile will give
My heart a great incouragement to live,
Death's but a speedy passage from this life,
Unto a better, and concludes all strife
Between this World and us, whilst here we draw
Corrupted aire we're subject to the law
Of grief and care, which daily circumvents
Discordious hearts with griping discontents.
Be not dejected at my death, but rather
Rejoyce, to think that heav'n will be your father,
Comfort your woefull mother, that hath been
A carefull Parent, and my loyall Queen;
Give her that full Obedience which is due,
And Heav'n will be affectionate to you.
Oh let the feare of God be alwaes plac'd
Before your eyes; Let virtue be imbrac'd;
What ere ye doe, be carefull to reserve
A spotlesse minde, which will at last preserve
Your heav'n-bred souls, let not your furies rage
Into revenge, but labour to asswage
33
Beyond your reach; Passion's the worst of fire:
Be not too much addicted to the hate
Of any, but be wisely moderate,
And when your hands begin to undertake
A consequentiall worke, be sure t'awake
Your slumb'ring reasons, labour to advise
With hea'n, and he will crowne your enterprise
With full successe; and if your foes should chance
To gaine the day, permit your thoughts to glance
Upon your private Crimes, and learne to know
Th'effect can never absolutely show
The justnesse of a cause, for oftentimes
Just Heav'n is pleas'd to punishing private Crimes
With publique means; God knows my cause was iust;
An yet he lay'd my Armies in the dust:
Shall I repine because I dayly see
My foes prevaile, and triumph over me,
No, no I will not, they shall live to dye,
When I shall dye, to live, and glorifie
The Generall of Heav'n, within wohse Tent
I hope to rest, where Time will ne're be spent.
But now, ah now, these lipps must bid farewell,
Methinks I hear (Deaths Orator) the Bell
34
Death comes in haste, and I must post away:
Come then my tender Babes, & Dearest Spouse,
(Thou that wert alwayes constant to thy vows)
And let these short-liv'd armes of mine inclose
You all together, e're I doe repose
My earth-defatigated limbs; forbeare
To drench my farewell in so large a teare;
My deare Relations, if my wasting glasse
Afford no sand, I must be gon; Alasse
Teares cannot hold my soul; and who may have
More priviledge to take, then he that gave;
My Iourney's almost ended, and I must
Take up an Inn, and lodge my self in dust,
Then shine upon me with the beams of mirth,
That I may say, I saw a heav'n on earth,
A pleasing smile, or two, will make me know
No paine in death, but if in teares you flow,
Oh then—
(Thou that wert alwayes constant to thy vows)
And let these short-liv'd armes of mine inclose
You all together, e're I doe repose
My earth-defatigated limbs; forbeare
To drench my farewell in so large a teare;
My deare Relations, if my wasting glasse
Afford no sand, I must be gon; Alasse
Teares cannot hold my soul; and who may have
More priviledge to take, then he that gave;
My Iourney's almost ended, and I must
Take up an Inn, and lodge my self in dust,
Then shine upon me with the beams of mirth,
That I may say, I saw a heav'n on earth,
A pleasing smile, or two, will make me know
No paine in death, but if in teares you flow,
Oh then—
| Regale Lectum Miseriae: or, a Kingly bed of Miserie | |