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42
A Parley between an Epicure and a Christian.
Ep.VVhy dost thou thus deface thy self with tears,
Before th'art tenanted by years?
Call in those briny showers of dew, thine eyes
Contribute as sad Obsequies,
To the untimely Funerall of that grace,
Which did before adorne thy face.
Ch.
Fond man, these teares are by mine eyes allow'd,
To serve me for a Chrystall shroud,
In whose thin folds, I my old man may hide,
By contrition mortifide;
And with these drops wipe off those spots of sin,
Which have so stain'd my soule within.
Ep.
But why with throngs of grones do you enlarge
The Theame of sorrow, and discharge
Volleyes of sighs, that breath were better spent,
In tricking up a complement,
By which you might a Ladies heart surprize,
And yet her brest ne're prejudice.
Ch.
Vaine man, these sighs, I like my Proxie send
To Heaven, that there they may attend
My scaling that bright Mansion, and be
My Advocates to plead for me,
When all by Gods citation summon'd are,
To be arraigned at his Bar.
Ep.
But I adjure you to informe me, why
You to such harsh austeritie
Farme out each houre, and to such strictnesse wed
Your life? as if y'had long been dead,
And your soule only mov'd a corps, your frame
Such rigid fasts, to curb and tame
Your carnall tumults banishing delight,
The Confines of your Appetite:
43
Since y'are not able to detect,
Whether or no, when you your breath resigne,
Any part of you shall decline
Th'arrest of Death, since Fate sayes all must go,
But whither, who can living know?
Ch.
Foole, therefore do I thus attempt to curb
Those passions, that would disturb
My purer thoughts, my flesh with fasts empaire,
And employ my tongue in prayer,
Checking the wild rebellions of my earth,
And strangling of them in their birth;
That being devested of that earthy weight,
Which did oppresse, and clog my Faith,
I might on wings of Contemplation flie,
And soare beyond the vaulted skie;
And by the scrutinie of Faith, Opticks see,
What place in Heaven's design'd for mee,
Ep.
What is that Faith you vaunt of? I have read
Natures large Book, contemplated
Philosophies myst'ries, but ne're could know
The cause from whence Faith first did flow.
Ch.
You may in quest of Natures secrets end
Myriads of years, and ages spend,
Till you all knowledge to your selfe ingrosse,
Yet ne're know Faith, till you can spell Christs Crosse.
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