Ivvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Soft heedlesse Muse, thou no advisement tak'st;
Wast not of Men that last of all thou spak'st?
It was, and of the weaknesse too of Men:
Come then with shame now and deni't agen:
Recant; for so the matter thou did'st handle,
Thou maist be curst for't with bell, book, and candle.
Is mankinde weak? Who then can by their powers
Into the aire hurle Palaces and Towers?
And with one blast e'en in a moment make
Whole Kingdomes and brave Monarchies to shake?
Or what are they that dare for to aspire
Unto Gods seat, and if it might be, higher:
That forgive sinnes as fast as men can doe them,
And make Iehovah be beholding to them?
I've heard of such; What are they? would I wist;
They can make Saints (they say) of whom they list:
And being made, above the stars can seat them,
Yea, with their own hands make their gods; & eat thē

Ha? Are they men? how dar'st thou then to speak
Such blasphemy, to say, Mankinde is weak?
I tell thee this, Muse, either man is strong,
And through thy babling thou hast done him wrong;
Or else beyond his limits he doth erre,
And for Presumption puts down Lucifer.

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Is't so? Nay then I prethee Muse go on,
And let us heare of his Presumption:
For I do know, cause I have heard him vaunt,
That hee's a Creature proud and arrogant:
And it may be he is not of such might
As he makes shew for; but usurps some's right.
Ther'e goes indeed: For though he be so base,
So weak, and in such miserable case,
That I want words of a sufficient worth
To paint his most abhorred vildenesse forth;
Yet such is also his detested pride,
That I suppose the Devill is beli'd
By every man that shall affirme or say
He is more proud. For do but mark I pray
This Creature Man: Did Natures powerfull King
(GOD, that of nothing framed every thing)
Mould out of Clay a piece which he had rent
E'en from the Earth, the basest Element?
And whereas he might have been made a Thrall,
Yea, and the very Vnderling of all;
That God with title of Chiefe-Ruler grac'd him,
And as a Steward over all things plac'd him:
Gave him a pleasant Garden for to till,
And leave to eate of ev'ry Tree at will;
Onely of one indeed he did deny him,
And peradventure of that one to try him.
But see his insolence, though God did threat
Death if he eate, and though that God was great,
And so exceeding just, that he well knew
All that he threatned doubtlesse would ensue:
Thogh God were strong, & could, had man bin prouder
(Poor clay-bred worm) have stampt him into pouder;
Yet (notwithstanding all this same) did he
Presume to taste of that Forbidden-tree.

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A rash beginning, but he sped so ill,
D'yee think he held on this presumption still?
To heare he had left that offence 'twere news;
But Cain and Nimrod, Pharaoh and the Iewes
Shew'd it continued; and grew much more,
Rather than lesser than it was before.
Cain in his murder and his proud reply;
Nimrod, in that he dar'd to build so high;
Pharaoh, by boldly tempting God, to show
His sundry plagues to Ægypts overthrow:
And many waies the last. But what need I
Recite examples of Antiquity?
Or thus to tax old ages of that crime,
Sith there was ne'er a more presumptuous time
Than this that's now. What dare not men to do,
If they have any list or minde thereto?
Their fellow-creatures they do much contemne,
Vaunting that all things were ordain'd for them;
Yea, both the gladsome daies, and quiet nights,
Sun, Moon, and Heaven, with those glorious lights,
Which so bespangle that fair azure roofe:
They think were onely made for their behoofe:
Whenas, alas, their power and weak command,
Cannot extend so far as to withstand
The least Stars force; o're them and their estate,
Sunne, Moon, and Starres too do predominate.

Before our Fall indeed we did excell
All other Creatures that on earth did dwell;
But now I think the very worst that be,
Have just as much to boast upon as wee,
Our Soul's defil'd; And therefore if in Sense
We place our worth and chiefe preheminence,
Tis known that there be divers creatures then
Will have the upper hand; for they passe men:

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And though we still presume upon't, 'tis vain
To challenge our old Soveraignty again:
For when that we from our obedience fell,
All things against us also did rebell;
Lions, and Beares, and Tygers sought our bloud,
The barren earth deni'd to yeeld us food:
The clouds rain'd plagues, and yet dare we go on,
We take such pleasure in Presumption.

But for because there's some do scarcely know
How we do in that fault offend, Ile show:
First, when that they new worshippings invent,
And cannot hold themselves so well content
With that which God doth in his Word ordain,
As with inventions of their own weak brain;
It seems they think their fancies to fulfill,
Would please him better than to have his will.

Next, I do reckon them that over-bold
Gods sacred Legend have at will controld;
And maugre his grand curse, some places chang'd;
Added to some; and some again estrang'd.

Then those great Masters I presumptuous deem,
That of their knowledge do so well esteem:
They will force others as the Papists do
For to allow of their opinions too;
Yea, though it be a meer imagination,
That neither hath good ground, nor just foundation:

Some will be prying, though they are forbidden,
Into those secrets God meant should be hidden.
So do some Students in Astrologie,
Though they can make a faire Apologie.
And so do those that very vainly trie
To finde our fortunes by their Palmistrie:
These do presume, but much more such as say,
At this or that time comes the judgment-day.

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Or such as ask, or dare for to relate
What God was doing e'er he did create
Heaven and Earth: or where he did abide,
How and by whom he then was glorifi'd.

But those that into such deep secrets winde,
A slender profit in their labour finde;
For to make known how highly they offend,
A desperate madnesse is oft times their end.
Yet such their nature is, they'll not beware,
But to be prying further still they dare:
For sure that longing can no way be staid:
Which well the Poet seem'd to know, who said;
Man, what he is forbidden, still desires,
And what he is deni'd of most requires.

Rather than many will a man gain-say,
They dare make bold with God; they think they may,
Because it seems they deem him not so strong,
Or so well able to revenge a wrong.

Some such great power to themselves assume,
And on their own strength do so much presume,
They seldome do for Gods assistance crave;
As if it were a needlesse thing to have
Which is the cause that often the conclusion
Proves their own shame, their hindrance, & confusion

In praying men presume, unlesse they be
With every one in love and charitie:
Or if in their Petitions they desire
Such things as are unlawfull to require.

Death's their reward we know, that break the law;
But neither that, nor yet damnations awe
Keeps us from sinne: a thousand God-heads more
Than one we make, and dare for to adore
Our own hand-works: the Sabbath we disdain,
And dreadlesse take the Name of God in vain.

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If but by his Lords hand an Irish sweare,
To violate that oath he stands in feare;
Lest him both of his lands and goods he spoile,
For making him the instrument of guile:
And yet dare we (poore worms) before his face,
(Respecting whom, the greatest Lords are base)
Both sweare, and forsweare, using that great Name
At pleasure, without any feare of blame.

Why should not we as well suppose that he
Who in our hearts would have no fraud to be;
Will miserable, poore, and naked leave us,
Yea, of those blessings and estates bereave us
We now hold of him, if we thus contemne,
And still abuse his sacred Name, and him?
But men secure in wickednesse persist,
As if they could please God with what they list;
If they can, Lord have mercy on them, say,
And mumble some few praiers once a day,
There needs no more: nay surely, there be such,
That think it is enough, if not too much.
But what's the reason? God made all the man,
Why should he have but part allow'd him then?
He in their service nothing doth delight,
Vnlesse it be with all their strength and might,
With their whole heart and soule, and that way too
As he appoints them in his Word to do.

Some men there are who hope by honesty,
By their Almes-deeds and works of Charitie
To win Gods favour, and so to obtain
Salvation by it; but their hope's in vain.

Others there are, who for because th' have faith
For to beleeve 'tis true the Scripture saith;
Sith they have knowledge in Religion,
And make thereof a strict profession;

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Or do observe the outward worship duly.
Do think that therein they have pleas'd God truly.

Now these are just as far as th' other wide,
For they Gods worship do by halves divide;
And for his due which is e'en all the heart,
Do dare presume to offer him a part.
But th' one must know he will not pleased be
With a Religion that wants honestie:
And th' other that as little good will doe,
His honest shews without Religion too.

If this be so (as so it is indeed)
How then will those presumptuous fellows speed
Who think (forsooth) because that once a yeare
They can afford the poore some slender cheere,
Observe their Countrey feasts, or Common doles,
And entertain their Christmas Wassaile-bowles
Or else because that for the Churches good,
They in defence of Hock-tide custome stood,
A Whitson-Ale, or some such goodly motion,
The better to procure Youngmens devotion?
What will they do, I say, that think to please
Their mighty God with such vain things as these?
Sure very ill; for though that they can mone,
And say that Love and Charitie is gone,
As old folks do, because their banquettings,
Their ancient Drunken Summer-revellings
Are out of date, though they can say, through teaching
And since the Gospell hath had open preaching,
Men are grown worse; though they can soon espie
A little mote in their own neighbours eye;
Yea, though that they their Pater-noster can,
And call their honest neighbour Puritan;
How e'er they in their own conceits may smile,
Yet sure they are Presumptuous, weak, and vile.

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Also in this abominable time,
It is amongst us now a common crime,
To flout and scoffe at those which we espie
Willing to shake off humane Vanity;
And those that gladly do themselves enforce
Vnto a strict and more religious course
Than most men do; although they truly know
No men are able to pay halfe they owe
Vnto their God; (as though their wisdomes thought
He might be served better than he ought)
They count precise and curious more than needs,
They try their sayings, and weigh all their deeds:
A thousand things that they well do, shall be
Sleightly past over, as if none did see:
But one thing ill done (though the best does ill)
They shall be certain for to heare of still;
Yea, notwithstanding they can daily smother
Millions of ten-times-greater faults in other.

Who are so hated, or so often blam'd?
Or so revil'd, or scorn'd, or so misnam'd?
To whom do we now our contentions lay?
Who are so much term'd Puritans as they
That feare God most? But 'tis no marvell men
Presume so much to wrong his children, when
As if they fear'd not his revengefull rod,
They can blaspheme, and dare to anger God.

Now by these words to some men it may seem,
That I have Puritanes in high esteem;
Indeed, if by that name you understand
Those whom the vulgar Atheists of this land
Do daily terme so; that is such as are
Fore-named here; and have the greatest care
To know and please their Maker: then 'tis true
I love them well, for love to such is due:

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But if you mean, The busie-headed sect,
The hollow crew, the counterfeit Elect:
Our Dogmatists, and ever-wrangling spirits,
That do as well contemne good works as merits:
If you mean those that make their care seem great
To get soules food, when 'tis for bodies meat;
Or those, all whose religion doth depend
On this, That they know how to discommend
A May-game, or a Summer-pole defie,
Or shake the head, or else turn up the eye:
If you mean those, however they appear,
This I say of them, (would they all might heare)
Though in a zealous habite they do wander,
Yet they are Gods foes and the Churches slander;
And though they humble be in shew to many,
They are as haughty every way as any.

What need I here the lewd presumptions tell
Of Papists in these daies? 'tis known too well.
For them thereof each Peasant now convinces,
In things as well concerning God as Princes.

Others I finde too that do dare presume,
The office of a Teacher to assume,
And being blinde themselves and gone astray,
Take on them to shew other men the way.

Yea some there be who have small gifts of spirit,
No kinde of knowledge, and as little merit,
That with the world have made a firm conjunction,
Yet dare to undergoe the sacred function
Of Christ his Pastor. Yea, such is their daring,
That (neither for their Charge nor Duty caring)
Instead of giving good and sound instruction,
They lead themselves and others to destruction.

We read that Ieremie and Moses both,
To undertake this charge were wondrous loth.

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(The greatnesse of the same so much appall'd them)
Yea, though that God himselfe directly call'd them;
But our brave Clarks, as if they did condemne
The too much bashfull backwardnesse of them;
Or else as if themselves they abler thought;
Those Divine callings have not onely sought
Without respect of their ability,
A Christian Conscience or civilitie;
But being of old Simon Magus tribe,
Purchase it often with a hatefull bribe;
Which shewes that they such places do desire,
Not for the good of others, but their hire.

But Patrons, feare ye neither God nor Hell?
Dare ye the Churches patrimony sell
For filthy lucre, in despight of Law
Sacred or humane? Pedants, dare ye? Haw!
Dare ye buy't of them? By Gods help, unlesse
This villanie e'er long have some redresse,
Ile finde a means, or else let me have blame,
To bring some smart, or else eternall shame
Vpon you for't; It may be you do sent it,
But all your policy shall not prevent it.
What do you look for? Hell and your Damnation?
Well, you shall have it by impropriation;
I know now you have entred Simony,
You'll double-damne your Souls with Perjury.
For they as oft together may be seen,
As is the chilling Fever and the Spleen.

But, oh, deare Countreymen, be more advis'd;
Think what God is, he may not be despis'd.
Could you well weigh his justice and his power,
How many infinites it passeth our,
And knew his judgements, you would not dissemble
An outward feigned reverence, but tremble

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And shake with horror; you'd not dare to venter
Sanctum Sanclorum so unfit to enter.
His Churches good you rather would advance,
Than rob it thus of her inheritance;
Or make the same as men still unbeleeving,
Like to a house of merchandise and theeving.

You to whom deeds of former times are known,
Mark to what passe this age of ours is grown,
Even with us that do strictest seem to be
In the professing of Christianitie;
You know men have been carefull to augment
The Churches portion, and have been content
To adde unto it out of their estate;
And Sacriledge all Nations did so hate,
That the meer Irish, who seem'd not to care
For God nor man, had the respect to spare
The Churches profits; yea, their heed was such,
That in the time of need they would not touch
The known provisions they daily saw
Stor'd up in Churches: in such feare and awe
The places held them; though that they did know
The things therein belonged to their foe;
But now the world and mans good nature's chang'd,
From this opinion most men are estrang'd;
We rob the Church, and what we can attain
By Sacriledge and Theft is our best gain.
In paying dues, the refues of our stock,
The barrenest and leanest of our flock
Shall serve our Pastor: whom for to deceive,
We think no sinne. Nay further (by your leave)
Men seek not to impropriate a part
Vnto themselves; but they can finde in heart
T'engrosse up all: which vile Presumption
Hath broght church-livings to a strange consumption.

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And if this strong disease do not abate,
'Twill be the poorest member in the state.

No marvell though in stead of learned Preachers,
We have been pester'd with such simple Teachers,
Such poore, mute, tongue-tide Readers, as scarce know
Whether that God made Adam first, or no:
Thence it proceeds, and there's the cause that Place
And Office at this time incurres disgrace.
For men of judgment, or good dispositions
Scorne to be ty'd to any base conditions,
Like to our hungry Pedants, who'l engage
Their soules for any curtail'd Vicarage.
I say, there's none of knowledge wit, or merit,
But such as are of a most servile spirit,
That will so wrong the Church as to presume
Some poore-halfe-demi-Parsonage to assume
In name of all; no, they had rather quite
Be put beside the same, than wrong Gods right.

Well, they must entertain such Pedants then,
Fitter to feed Swine than the soules of men,
But Patrons think such best, for there's no feare
They will speak any thing they loathe to heare:
They may run foolishly to their damnation
Without reproofe, or any disturbation;
To let them see their vice they may be bold,
And yet not stand in doubt to be controld:
Those in their houses may keep private Schooles,
And either serve for jesters or for fools,
And will suppose that they are highly grac'd,
Be they but at their Patrons table plac'd:
And there if they be cal'd but Priests in scoffe,
Straight they duck down, and all their caps come off,
Supposing it for to be done in kindnesse,
Which shews their weaknesse & apparant blindenesse

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Moreover, 'tis well known that former time
Held it to be a vile presumptuous crime,
Such men in sacred Offices to place
Whom they knew touch'd with any foule disgrace,
Or to allow those whom they did suspect
To have an outward bodily defect:
But be they now not onely crooked, lame,
Dismember'd, and of the unshapeliest frame
That ever Nature form'd; though they be blinde,
Not in sight onely, but as well in minde;
Though they be such, who if they came to shreeving,
Might confesse murther, whordome, slander, theeving,
And all damn'd villany; yet these men will be
Admitted to the sacred Ministrie.

But most of us do now disdain that place,
Accounting it unworthy, mean, and base;
Yea, like to Ieroboams Priests wee see
They of the lowest of the people be;
And though we know the Israelites allow'd
God the First-born for his; we are so proud,
Vnlesse they either do want shape, or wit,
Or seem for worldly businesse unfit,
Few think Gods service worthy the bestowing
Their Childe upon it; or such duty owing
Vnto the same; but rather that vocation
They count a blemish to their reputation.
But where's your understanding, oh you men?
Turn from your brutish dulnesse once agen;
Honour Gods messengers; for why? 'tis true
To them both reverence and honour's due:
Think what they are, and be not still self-minded,
Suffer not reason to be so much blinded;
If not for love that you to justice beare,
Yet follow her (although it be) for feare:

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And see that this Presumption you amend,
Or look some heavy plague shall be your end.

Then it is also a Presumptuous act,
With knowledge to commit a sinfull fact,
Though ne'er so small: for sinne's a subtle elfe,
That by degrees insinuates it selfe
Into our soules; and in a little space
Becomes too huge a Monster to displace:
Yea, it is certain that one sinne, though small,
Will make an entrance great enough for all;

And what is't but Presumption to abuse,
And without feare and reverence to use
Gods Sacred Word? Yet we that Christ professe
Think it no fault, or that there's no fault lesse:
Else sure we would not in our common talk,
Let our loose tongues so much at randome walk;
We would not dare our jests of that to make,
At uttering where of the heavens shake;
For if God had reveal'd his Gospell news
To us, as heretofore unto the Iews
He did the Law: who heard him to their wonder,
Speaking through fearfull firy flames of Thunder;
We would not dread in any evill fashion,
To use that sacred means of our salvation.

Our cursed Pagan unbeleeving foe,
I meane the Turk, more reverence doth show
In those his damn'd erroneous Rites, than we
In the true Worship: for 'tis known that he
Will not so much as touch his Alcharon,
That doth contain his false Religion,
With unwash'd hands; nor till he hath o'er-went
All that his vain and confus'd rabblement
Of Ceremonies us'd, much lesse dares look
On the Contents of that unhallowed Book:

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But we in midst of all our villany,
In our Pot-conference and Ribaldrie,
Irreverently can the same apply,
As if't were some of Pasquils-Letany.

But soft, my Muse in her perambulation
Hath hapt upon an Excommunication:
And though that her Commission she wanted,
Yet she made bold to search wherefore 'twas granted;
Which if you would know too; why, it may be
Some were so pleas'd because they lack'd a fee:
For had the Officers been well contented,
They say the matter might have been prevented.
But you that have the wisedomes to discerne
When abuse is, pray tell me, I would learne:
Misuse we not Excommunication?
You know, It is a Separation
From God: and a most fearfull banishment,
From the partaking of his Sacrament,
And good mens fellowship; a sad exile
(Perhaps for ever, at the least a while)
From the true Church, and oh (most horrid evill)
A giving of men over to the Devill.
And therefore was ordain'd in better times
Onely for such, who in their hainous crimes,
With hardned obstinacie did persist,
As may appeare: but now, we at our list,
As if the same but some sleight matter were,
For every trifle to pronounce it dare;
And peradventure too, on such as be
More honest far, and better much than we.

But sith my Muse hath her endeavour done,
To note how men into this fault do run;
I will be bold to let you understand
One strange Presumption noted in our Land,

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Worth the amending: and indeed 'tis this
(Reader, pray judge how dangerous it is.)
We seeing God hath now removed farre,
From this our Country his just plague of warre,
And made us through his mercy so much blest,
We doe in spight of all our foes yet rest
Exempt from danger: by us it appeares
Through the great blessing of these quiet yeares,
We are so fearelesse, carelesse, and secure,
In this our happy peace, and so cock-sure,
As if we did suppose, or heard it said,
Old Mars were strangled, or the Divell dead:
Else can I not beleeve we would so lightly
Esteem our safety, and let passe so slightly
Our former care of Martiall Discipline,
For exercises meerely feminine:
We would not see our Armes so soil'd in dust,
Nor our bright blades eate up with cankerd rust,
As now they be: our Bowes they lye and rot,
Both Musket and Caliver is forgot;
And we lie open to all forraigne dangers
For want of discipline: 'tis known to Strangers,
Though we'l not see't. Alas, will not our pleasure
Let us be once in seven yeeres at leasure
To take a muster, and to give instruction?
No, rather pleasure will be our destruction.
For that first caus'd the law that now prevents
And barres the use of Pouder-instruments
To be enacted. Why? for to preserve
As idle Game, the which I wish might sterve
Amids our plenty, so that with their curse
The Land and People might be nothing worse;
'Cause for that trifle to the Realmes abuse,
The Hand-gun hath beene so much out of use.

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Scarce one in forty, if to proofe it came,
Dares, or knowes well how to discharge the same.

Oh valiant English, we are like to hold
The glory that our fathers had of old:
But sure I thinke some undermining-hand,
That studies for the ruine of the Land,
Is cause of this; in hope thereby at length
To weaken ours, and let in Forraigne strength.

What do we think, cause there's a truce with Spain
That we are safe? alas, that thought is vaine:
Our dangers rather more. For while they dar'd
To proffer wrong they found us still prepar'd:
The profitable feare that we were in
Prevented danger that might else have bin.
But now the cause of forraigne feare is gone,
We have not onely let all care alone,
But also are so drunken with delights,
And drown'd in pleasures that our dulled sprites,
Are so o'er-clogd with Luxury, we droope,
More fit for Venus than for Mars his troope:
That if our foes should now so ventrous be
As to invade the Land, unlesse that we
With speed amend this error here's my minde,
The way to worke our ruine they'l soon finde:
For just the Troians last nights watch we keep,
Who then were buried all in wine and sleepe.

We read, when Cato should a Captaine chuse
For the Pannonian fight, he did refuse
His kinsman Publius, 'cause that from the warre
He often had return'd without a scarre,
And went perfum'd. But if such faults as these
Displeas'd the Censor, sure then in our daies,
He scarcely would in Towne or Country finde
A man with us according to his minde

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Such is our daintinesse. Besides, to strangers
(As if there were no cause to doubt of dangers)
We doe not onely our great riches show,
(A shrewd temptation to allure a foe)
But we moreover plainely doe declare
By fond apparell, too superfluous fare,
Much idlenesse and other wanton parts,
That we have weake effeminated hearts,
Which being known are sure a great perswasion
Vnto our enemies to make invasion.

But we doe say, in God's our only trust,
On him we doe depend: Well, so we must,
And yet we ought not therefore to disdaine
The lawfull meanes by which he doth ordaine
To worke our safety then: for that's a signe
We rather love to tempt the Powers Divine,
Than trust unto them. Worthy Brittaines then,
Leave this presumption, once againe be men,
Not weake Sardanapali; leave those toyes
To idle Women, wanton Girles and Boies:
Vnto our foes I wish you could betake them,
Or unto any, so you would forsake them.

Let Martialists that long have been disgrac'd
Be lov'd again and in our favours plac'd:
Count not them Rogues, out rather such as can
So much degenerate themselves from Man,
In tyre and gesture both to womanize.
Goe call a Parliament, and there devise
An act to have them whipt now: oh 'twere good,
A deed well worthy such a noble brood

Meane while lets trim our rusty Armes and scoure
Those long unused well-steel'd-blades of our;
(We shall not doe the Spiders any wrong,
For they have rent-free held their house-roome long

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In Morains, Helmets, Gauntlets, Bandileeres:
Displace them thence, they have had all their yeeres)
And give them such a lustre that the light
May dimme the Moon-shine in a Winters night;
Away with idle Citherns, Lutes and Tabers,
Let knocks requite the Fidlers for their labours.
Bring in the warlike Drum, 'twill musick make ye,
That from your drousie pleasures will awake ye:
Or else that hartning Trumpet that from farre
May sound unto you all the points of warre.
Let dances turne to marches; you ere long
May know what doth to Ranks and Files belong.
And let your thundering shot so smoke and rore,
Strangers may tremble to behold the shore,
And know you sleepe not. But now to what end,
Doe you suppose that I these words doe spend?
Beleeve me, I'm not male content with peace,
Nor doe desire this happy time might cease;
I would not have you foule seditions make,
Or any unjust warres to undertake:
But I desire you leave those idle fashions,
That have beene the just fall of many Nations.
Looke well unto your selves and not suppose.
'Cause there's a league with Spaine, we have no foes.
For, if Warres ever make this Land complaine,
It will be thought some Truce it had with Spaine.

But here I bid you once againe beware,
Delay not time, but with all speed prepare;
Repaire your Forts again, and man them well,
Place better Captaines in them: I can tell
Some are growne covetous, and there's no trust
To such as they; that vice makes men unjust.
They pocket up the wages of their men,
And one poore Souldier serves alone for ten.

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Looke to the Navy-Royall: were't well scand,
I doubt it would be found but simply man'd:
The Pursers study (if some not belie them)
Onely which way they may have profit by them:
But see unto it you to whom't belongs,
See the abuses done, redresse the wrongs.

And oh! renew the forces of this Land,
For there's a fearefull bloudy day at hand;
Though not fore-seene, a bloudy day for some,
Nor will the same be long before it come.

There is a tempest brewing in the South,
A horrid Vapour forc'd from hels own mouth.
'Tis spread already farre into the West,
And now begins to gather in the East,
When 'tis at full once, it will straight come forth
To showre downe all its vengeance on the North.

But feare not little Ile, thy cause is right;
And if thou hast not cast all care off quite,
Nor art secure, why by that token then
Thou shalt drive backe that threatning storme agen,
Through Gods assistance; even to ruine those;
By and amongst whom first of all it rose.
But if that still thou carelesse snorting lie
In thy presuming blind security,
Take't for a signe that now thy sins are ripe,
And thou shalt surely feele the death-full stripe
Of that ensuing ill, unto thy shame
And extirpation of thy former fame.

But yet I hope, this oversight will end,
And we shall this presumptuous fault amend:
I hope, I say (and yet I hope no harmes)
To see our English youth, trickt up in Armes;
And so well traind that all their foes shall heare
No newes from them, but horror, death and feare:

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Yea, and their March, like Iehu's King of Iury,
Shall shew they come with vengeance, speed and fury.

I would we could as easily forsake
Other presumptions; and that we could take
But halfe the care and diligence to arme
Our soules in danger of a greater harme.
Would we the holy weapons could assume
Of Christian warfare, and not still presume
To leave our better parts all open so,
For the advantage of the greater foe
Than Rome or Spaine. Oh would we could begin
To feele the danger of presumptuous sin!
Which soone would be, if we could once be brought
But to consider, with an equall thought,
Our base beginning and infirmity,
Our wavering and wond'rous misery.
And with this wretched poore estate of our
Gods infinite and all-sufficient power;
His justice, with his hatred unto ill,
And threatnings if we disobey his will:
Or else remember he doth still behold,
And see us when we sin; for who so bold,
Vnlesse depriv'd of grace, then to offend?
But it should seeme, we our endeavours bend
To anger God; for we of sinne complaine,
Yet with our will, sinne in his sight againe.

Say were't not a presumption very great,
If comming to a King, one should intreat
A pardon for some murther and yet bring
The bloudy blade with which he did that thing
He would have mercy for? And whilst he speaking,
Sheath it againe with bloud and gore yet reaking,
In the Kings sonne before his Fathers face;
And yet still bide, as if he hop'd for grace?

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Should we not think him mad? Sure yes; yet we
Cannot that madnesse in our own selves see:
For, we dare come before the almighty King
To sue for pardon for our sins, yet bring
The selfe-same bad mind, still conceiving murther
Against his children to provoke him further:
And look what ill is but in thought begun
With him's all one, as if the same were done.

It is no marvell that no humane law
Can keepe our over-daring hearts in awe;
Sith that we doe so little dread the rod
Of such a powerfull, and so just a God:
And if in mans and Gods own sight we dare
So fearelesse sin without respect or care;
It seemes that we doe little conscience make
What mischiefes by our selves we undertake:
Or thinke it no presumption to commit
Something alone in our owne sight unfit,

Oh grosse and ignorant! why, that's the worst
Of all presumptions the most accurst,
And full'st of danger. Silly man take heed,
Doe not before thy selfe an evill deed;
For when God doth forgive, and man forget,
Thine owne ill conscience will oppose and set
Her selfe against thee, tell thee thine offending,
And keep thee backe from ever apprehending
Grace or forgivenesse; neither will afford
The smallest comfort of the Sacred Word:
But rather to thy sad remembrance call
Each saying that may serve to prove thy fall:
And though that fire wondrous tortures brings
Vnto the body, yet when conscience stings,
Nor fire, nor sword, nor hell it selfe can yeeld
A worser torment. God defend and shield

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Me from the like; and give me grace to feare,
So that I may preserve my conscience cleare
In all my actions: and then I shall be
In better case a thousand fold than he
That unto wealth and honour hath attain'd
With a craz'd conscience that is blurd and stain'd.

Alas how easie were't to clime or mount
To worldly reputation and account?
How soone could I if I had an intention
To plot and to contrive a damn'd invention
Get golden heaps? yea, and so privily;
That though 'twere done by craft and villany,
I by the blinded world would be deemed
Perhaps more honest; but much more esteemed
Than now I am. But God forbid that I
Such base vaine trash and dunghill stuffe should buy
At such a rate. For there's no Iewell dearer,
Nor any losse a man can have goes nearer
Than peace of conscience. Which to be most true,
The ancient Poets very wisely knew,
And therefore fain'd their furies, with intent
So to declare the inward punishment
Of guilty minds, which sure they might do well;
For there are in them Divels, yea and Hell,
With all her torture. What else was the cause
Nero (who knew no God, nor feared lawes)
When he had killed his Mother tooke no rest,
But thought he saw her comming to molest
And plague him for't? What made him to surmise
He was still tortur'd in such hellish wise,
That Furies did to his appearance scorch
Is living body with a burning torch?
Was't not his conscience that had privy beene
Unto the fact? Was not the cause within

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His owne bad selfe? If 'twere, lets to amending
Of our presumptuous sinnes, and bold offending;
If, neither in regard of God nor men,
Oh let's for feare of our owne conscience then.

Yet ther's another thing which wer't well weigh'd
Our rash presumption would be somewhat stai'd.
The end of life with the neere ending paine
God for presumptuous sinners doth ordaine.
Could we note that; with deaths uncertaine times,
And how it takes men acting of their crimes
Even in the very nicke of their offence,
And beares them (ere they can repent them) hence
To such a place where nothing shall appeare,
But all the ghastly objects of grimme feare.
Where every sense shall severally sustaine,
The miserable smart of endlesse paine.
The tender feeling, shall in every part,
Be subject to th' intolerable smart
Of hellish flames, commixt with chilling cold:
Tortures beyond conceit; not to be told.
The dainty mouth that had the curious taste
And of the choisest cates still made repast,
Shall filled be, yea belly, throat, and all,
With filth more loathsome than the bitterest gall:
The once-perfumed nostrill, there shall drink
Foule noysome smels beside the sulphurous stinke
Of choaking flames. And there, the listning eare,
Fed with the sound of pleasant musick here,
Shall change it for the wofull skreeching cry
Of damned soules that in hels tortures lie;
Whose hideous howlings can by no defence,
Be kept from piercing that amazed sense.

And then while they shall trembling think to flie
From those amazements that doe seeme so nie,

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Loe, there the feareful'st object of the sight
Their quite despairing mindes shal more affright:
For garish formes of foule mishapen fiends,
And ugly Bugs for evermore attends,
To thwart each looke. But if this doe not make
Thy over-hardned heart (oh man) to quake:
If this relation be too weake to winne,
Or to reclaime thee from thy wonted sinne;
Reader, if this doe no impression leave,
So that thou canst not any feare conceive
Through this description; think upon't at night,
Soone in thy bed when earth's depriv'd of light:
I say at mid-night when thou wak'st from sleepe,
And lonely darkenesse doth in silence keep
The grim-fac'd night. And but imagine then
Thou wert borne all alone to some darke den,
And there set naked though thou felt no paine,
Yet seeing no way to get out againe,
If thou should'st in that naked lonenesse heare
Some yelling voice, or some strange noise draw neare,
With threatning; or but calling on thy name:
Oh with what patience could'st thou bide the same!
But if withall thy wandering eies should marke,
And now and then see peering through the darke
Some monstrous visages or ugly faces,
Which would make proffer of some rude embraces,
And sometime seeme as if they would begin
With griping pawes to seaze thy trembling skin,
Or but suppose that in thy chamber there,
Where cannot be the hundreth part of feare
Because to thee the place well knowne will be,
And thou maist have therewith to cover thee)
Yet there I say suppose thou shouldst behold,
Not such grim objects as are here foretold,

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But onely heare the dolefull voice of men
Complaining in the darke; And now and then,
Behold the ghastly shape of friends long dead,
Wrapt in their sheets as they were buried;
Or else from out thy chamber floore to rise
A troope of bony, pik'd Anatomies.
Come pointing to thee, as if thou wert he
That must ere long their bare companion be.
Then wouldst thou feare I know, and thinke on him,
Whose might and feareful power thou didst contemn,
Thou wouldst consider better of the feare
And hellish horror I have mention'd here.
Thy dangerous estate thou wouldst conceive,
And somewhat thy presumptuous actions leave;
Thou wouldst not so cast all thy care behind thee,
But watch thy self for feare lest death shold find thee
Doing some ill; nor would'st thou thus delay
Times of Repentance still from day to day.

But oh! how shall I hope that this I pleade,
Will worke in them that shall but barely reade
What I have writ? sith I my selfe that know,
And have some inward feeling of that woe
Forget my selfe. I thinke when I shall be
From such and such like cares and troubles free.
Then will I all my vanities forsake,
A better course of life I'l undertake,
And only seeke the glory of his Name
By whom I live. That day ere long time came,
Then I had other lets, but if that they,
(As I did seeke they might) were once a way,
I would indeed my duty better doe:
Well, so it pleas'd God, I ore-past them too.
Yet something hindred still that I could never
In my intended Christian course persever:

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But ever found unto my griefe and sorrow,
That I was bad to day and worse to morrow:
But oh! thou God that know'st my hearts desire,
Doe not; oh doe at my hands require
My youthfull sins; though this my flesh be fraile.
And my affections often doe prevaile:
Seeing thou know'st the weake estate of man,
And what a little his small power can,
Accept my will, and let thy bloud suffice
To quit the rest of mine iniquities.

But now, because I have observ'd such store,
I needs must tell a few presumptions more.

Some in contemning others wisdome; show
That they presume themselves doe all things know:
But that vile selfe-conceit nere raised any,
Certaine I am it is the fall of many.

Others (and they in this kind too offend)
On their owne memories too much depend:
Such I have heard so confidently speake,
As if they had no thought that men were weake
Yea those; though twenty men have all gain-said
What they affirmed, were not yet affraid
Their owne bare affirmation to out-face
With sundry oathes: such wondrous trust they place
In their remembrance; yea, my selfe ere now
Have beene oft times more ready to avow
What I thought truth; than ere I'l be againe:
For what I deem'd to be so sure and plaine,
That I not onely stood in't to my might,
But would have pawn'd my life't had been the right
That to my shame I have my selfe alone,
Found to be false, when all the rest were gone
Which griev'd me so, that I'l ne'er more relie
Or trust so much to mine owne memorie.

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But what may I tearme those who for a name,
Or else to get some vile preposterous fame,
Will desperately for the nonce begin
To put in action some ungodly sin,
That all men loath; and onely (as they say)
For to be talkt of. What are such I pray?
Presumptuous, vaine or weake or all that's bad:
The last I think; and ten-times more than mad.

Yet we have Gallants and great store of such,
That in their great bravado's care not much
What villanies they doe. But 'tis their humour
Onely to fill mens mouthes with idle rumour;
And cause they know the vulgar sort do deem them
Youthes of great spirit and do much esteeme them.
But amongst wisemen, they are sure to gaine
Reproachfull shame and well deserv'd disdaine;
And yet to adde some fame unto this story,
We will bequeath them Erostratus glory.

Nor have our old men left that humour yet,
For though through feeblenesse they are unfit
To put in practice their old tricks againe:
Yet for to shew they like them and would faine;
They'l often with a lie or two recite them;
And the remembrance doth so much delight them,
That whereas they ought rather to repent,
And with a grieved heart for to lament
Their former folly; they with joy and laughter
Seeme to approv't in those that shall come after.

There's yet another crew, my Muse well knowes,
To whom she here a Memorandum owes,
Although no commendations; for they are
But busie fellowes, and do boldly dare
Take on them in their comments, forth to finde
The secret meaning of each Authors minde;

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And do apply that, in particular,
Which doth extend to all ingenerall:
And in this little Booke perhaps, they can
Say, here I meant one, there another man;
And by their names they will not stick to shew them
When as perhaps I nere so much as knew them.
So from my honest meaning they will reare them
A slander for some private grudge they beare them.

But though these are so bold, yet I beleeve,
Or hope at least, no men of wisdome give
Credit to any such interpretations,
That are but idle false imaginations;
Sith each of these what stile soe'er he crave,
Doth shew himselfe presumptuous foole and knave.

But here all you that are quite voide of care,
What you presume in: chiefly you that dare,
Mauger Gods threats, goe forward to fulfill
Your naughty, rash, unbridled haire-braine will:
As if you thought that you your selves made all,
And that indeed there were no God at all.
Know this, ere long time it shall come to passe,
That you shall howling fit and cry, alas:
Cursing your birth and miserable state,
With sad repentance when it is too late,
Vnlesse you now take time. Oh wormes! oh men!
Forsake your follies, oh forsake them then.
What will ye doe else when once seaz'd by death,
Ready to draw the latest gaspe of breath;
When as you are so weake that you would faine
But cannot move your tongues for to complaine
What would you doe if then there should appeare
The Authors of most miserable feare,
Your guilty consciences, and there unroule
To your remembrances the dreadfull scroule

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Of your presumptions? and withall present
A vision of th' infernall punishment,
Prepar'd for such; and if in that bad case
You should behold him you esteem'd so base
Sit with such power, that at each frown he makes
The earth doth tremble, and the heaven shakes:
What would you doe? oh any thing: I'm sure
No paine there is but you would then endure
To scape his wrath (if you doe not despaire)
Then will you beg, intreat, and promise faire
Or any thing, if so it were you might,
Returne to life againe; then would you quite
Alter your doeings; then forsooth you'l be
A patterne unto all posterity;
You would be humble, meeke, devout and chaste:
But now there's time, and then it may be past.

Yet I my selfe have heard those that have vow'd
Much in their anguish, and God hath allow'd
A longer time, yea, hath vouchsaf'd to save
And give them life againe, e'en at the grave:
And yet have these forgot their former paine,
And turn'd unto their owne ill-waies againe:
Which having seene, this for us men I'l speake,
Not without griefe, though nothing be so weake:
Yet are we in our owne conceipts so tall,
That for presumption we doe out-passe all:
And if so be that this same hardning sin
Doe seaze upon the heart once, and get in;
My minde is this, 'twill ne'er be purg'd thence well,
No, not with all the feares and pangs of Hell.