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Progressus sum in medium, & pacem
Omnibus hominibus proclamo.
At mihi quod viuo {detraxerit} inuida turba,
Post obitum duplici fœnore reddet honos.
Arri. Epict.


TO THE RIGHT WORTHILY HONORD, graue, and ingenuous Fauorer of all vertue, Sir Edw. Phillips Knight, Maister of the Rolles, &c.
1

PETRARCHS SEVEN PENITENTIALL PSALMES.

PSALME I. Heu mihi Misero.

1

O me wretch, I haue enrag'd
My Redeemer; and engag'd
My life, on deaths slow foote presuming:
I haue broke his blessed lawes,
Turning with accursed cause,
Sauing loue to wrath consuming.

2

Truths straite way, my will forsooke,
And to wretched bywaies tooke,
Brode, rough, steepe, and full of danger.
Euery way, I labour found,
Anguish, and delights vnsound,
To my iourneyes end a stranger.
2

3

Rockes past fowles wings, tooke my flights,
All my dayes spent; all my nights;
Toyles and streights though still repelling.
One or other beast I met,
Shunning that for which I swet;
Wild beasts dens were yet my dwelling.

4

Pleasure, that all paine subornes
Making beds of ease, on thornes,
Made me found with ruine sleeping.
Rest, in Torments armes I sought,
All good talkt, but all ill thought,
Laught, at what deseru'd my weeping.

5

What is now then left to do?
What course can I turne me to?
Danger, such vnscap't toyles pitching.
All my youths faire glosse is gone,
Like a shipwracke each way blowne,
Yet his pleasures still bewitching.

6

I delay my Hauen to make;
3

Nor yet safeties true way take;
On her left hand euer erring:
I a little see my course,
Which in me, the warre makes worse,
Th' vse of that small fight deferring.

7

Oft I haue attempted flight,
Th'old yoke casting, but his weight
Thou Nature to my bones impliest.
O that once my necke were easde,
Straight it were; were thy powre pleasd,
O, of all things high, thou highest.

8

O could I my sinne so hate,
I might loue thee yet, though late;
But my hope of that is sterued;
Since mine owne hands make my chaines:
Iust, most iust, I grant my paines;
Labour wrings me most deserued.

9

Mad wretch, how deare haue I bought
Fetters with mine owne hands wrought?
4

Freely in deaths ambush falling.
I made; and the foe disposde
Nets that neuer will be losde.
More I striue, the more enthralling:

10

I look't by, and went secure
In paths slipperie, and impure;
In my selfe, my sinne still flattering.
I thought youths flowre still would thriue,
Follow'd as his storme did driue,
With it, all his hemlockes watering:

11

Said; what thinke I of th' extreames
Ere the Meane hath spent his beames?
Each Age hath his proper obiect.
God sees this, and laughs to see.
Pardon soone is go[illeg.]; My knee
When I will repent, is subiect.

12

Custome then his slaue doth claime,
Layes on hands, that touch and maime;
5

Neuer cour'd, repented neuer:
Flight is then, as vaine, as late;
Faith too weake, to cast out Fate,
Refuge past my reach is euer.

13

I shall perish then in sinne,
If thy aide Lord, makes not in,
Mending what doth thus depraue me;
Minde thy word then, Lord, and lend
Thy worke thy hand, crowne my end.
From the iawes of Sathan saue me.
All glorie to the Father be,
And to the Sonne as great as he:
With the coequall sacred Spirit;
Who all beginnings were before,
Are, and shall be euermore.
Glorie, all glorie to their merit.
6

PSALME II. Inuocabo quem offendi.

1

I will inuoke whom I inflam'd;
Nor will approch, his fierie throne in feare;
I will recall, nor be asham'd
Whom I cast off, and pierce againe his eare.
Hope, quite euen lost, I will restore,
And dare againe to looke on heauen;
The more I fall, inuoke the more;
Prayre once will speed, where eare is euer giuen.

2

In heauen my deare Redeemer dwels,
His eare yet let downe to our lowest sounds;
His hand can reach the deepest hels;
His hand holds balmes for all our oldest wounds.
I, in my selfe, do often die;
But in him, I as oft reuiue;
My health shines euer in his eye;
That heales in hell, and keepes euen death aliue.
7

3

Feare all, that would put feare on me;
My sinne most great is, but much more his grace:
Though ill for worse still alterd be:
And I in me, my eagrest foe embrace:
Yet Truth in this hath euer stood,
The blackest spots my sinnes let fall,
One drop of his most precious blood;
Can cleanse and turne, to purest Iuorie all.

4

Strike, Lord, and breake the rockes that grow
In these red seas of thy offence in me:
And cleansing fountaines thence shall flow,
Though of the hardest Adamant they be.
As cleare as siluer, seas shall rore,
Descending to that noysome sinke,
Where euery houre hels horride Bore
Lies plung'd, and drownd, & doth his vomits drinke.

5

Race, Lord, my sinnes inueterate skarres,
And take thy new-built Mansion vp in me:
Though powre failes, see my wils sharpe warres,
And let me please euen while I anger thee.
Let the remembrance of my sinne,
8

With sighs all night ascend thine eare:
And when the morning light breakes in,
Let health be seene, and all my skies be cleare.

6

Thus though I temper ioyes with cares,
Yet keepe thy mercies constant, as my crimes:
Ile cherish, with my faith, my prayres,
And looke still sighing vp for better times.
My selfe, I euermore will feare,
But thee, my rest, my hope, still keepe:
Thy darkest clouds, thy lightnings cleare,
Thy thunders rocke me, that breake others sleepe.

7

My purgatorie O Lord make
My bridall chamber, wedded to thy will:
And let my couch still witnesse take,
In teares still steep't, that I adore thee still.
My body Ile make pay thee paines,
Hell iawes shall neuer need to ope.
Though all loues faile, thine euer raignes,
Thou art my refuge, last, and onely hope.
All glorie to the Father, &c.
9

PSALME III. Miserere Domine.

1

Stay now, O Lord, my bleeding woes,
The veine growes low and drie;
O now enough, and too much flowes,
My sinne is swolne too hie.

2

What rests for the abhorr'd euent?
Time wasts, but not my woe:
Woes me, poore man, my life is spent
In asking what to do.

3

Pale Death stands fixt before mine eyes,
My graue gaspes, and my knell
Rings out in my cold eares the cryes
and gnashed teeth of hell.

4

How long shall this day mocke my hope,
With what the next will be?
10

When shall I once begin to ope,
My lockt vp way to thee?

5

Ease Lord, my still-increasing smart,
Salue not, but cure my wounds:
Direct the counsels of my heart,
And giue my labours bounds.

6

As in me, thou hast skill infusd,
So will, and action breath:
Lest chidden for thy gifts abusd,
I weepe and pine to death.

7

See, bound beneath the foe I lie,
Rapt to his blasted shore:
O claime thy right, nor let me die,
Let him insult no more.

8

Tell all the ransome I must giue,
Out of my hourely paines:
See how from all the world I liue,
To giue griefe all the raines.
11

9

What is behind, in this life aske,
And in these members sums:
Before the neuer ending taske,
And bedrid beggerie comes.

10

Shew me thy way, ere thy chiefe light
Downe to the Ocean diues:
O now tis euening, and the night,
Is chiefly friend to theeues.

11

Compell me, if thy Call shall faile,
To make thy straight way, mine:
In any skorn'd state let me wayle,
So my poore soule be thine.
All glorie to the Father be,
And to the Sonne as great as he,
With the coequall sacred Spirit:
Who all beginnings were before,
Are, and shall be euermore.
Glorie, all glorie to their merit.
12

PSALME IIII. Recordari libet.

1

Once let me serue, Lord, my desire,
Thy gifts to me recounting, and their prise,
That shame may set my cheekes on fire,
And iust confusion teare in teares mine eyes.
Since quite forgetting what I am,
Adorn'd so Godlike with thy grace,
I yet neglect to praise thy name,
And make thy image in me, poore and base.

2

Thou hast created, euen for me,
The starres, all heauen, and all the turns of time;
For of what vse are these to thee,
Though euery one distinguisht by his clime?
Thou Sunne and Moone, thou Nights and Dayes,
Thou Light and Darknesse hast disposd:
Wrapt earth in waters nimble wayes,
Her vales, hils, plains, with founts, floods, seas enclosd
13

3

Her rich wombe thou hast fruitfull made,
With choyce of seeds, that all wayes varied are:
And euery way, our eyes inuade
With formes and graces, in being common, rare.
In sweete greene herbes thou cloth'st her fields,
Distinguishest her hils with flowres.
Her woods thou mak'st her meadowes shields,
Adorn'd with branches, leaues, and odorous bowres.

4

The wearie thou hast rest prepar'd,
The hote refreshest with coole shades of trees,
Which streames melodious enterlar'd,
For sweete retreats, that none but thy eye sees:
The thirstie, thou giu'st siluer springs;
The hungrie, berries of all kinds;
Herbes wholesome, and a world of things,
To nurse our bodies, and informe our minds.

5

Now let me cast mine eye, and see
With what choice creatures, strangely form'd and faire,
All seas, and lands, are fil'd by thee:
14

And all the round spread tracts of yeelding aire.
Whose names or numbers who can reach?
With all earths powre, yet in thy span:
All which, thy boundlesse bounties preach,
All laide, O glorie! at the foote of man.

6

Whose body, past all creatures shines,
Such wondrous orders of his parts thou mak'st,
Whose countenance, state, and loue combines:
In him vnmou'd, when all the world thou shak'st.
Whose soule thou giu'st powre, euen of thee,
Ordaining it to leaue the earth,
All heauen, in her discourse to see,
And note how great a wombe, went to her birth.

7

Vnnumberd arts thou add'st in him,
To make his life more queint and more exact:
His eye, eternesse cannot dim.
Whose state he mounts to, with a mind infract:
Thou shew'st him all the milke-white way,
Op'st all thy Tabernacles dores.
Learn'st how to praise thee, how to pray,
To shun, and chuse, what likes and what abhorres.
15

8

To keepe him in which hallowed path,
As his companions, and perpetuall guides,
Prayre thou ordainst, thy word and faith,
And loue, that all his foule offences hides.
And to each step his foote shall take,
Thy couenants stand like wals of brasse,
Which, from thy watch towre, good to make,
Thou add'st thine eye for his securer passe.

9

All this deare (Lord) I apprehend,
Thy Spirit euen partially inspiring me:
Which to consort me to my end,
With endlesse thanks, Ile strew my way to thee.
Confessing falling, thou hast staid:
Confirm'd me fainting, prostrate raisd,
With comforts rapt me, quite dismaid,
And dead, hast quickn'd me, to see thee praisd.
All glorie to the Father be,
And to the Sonne, &c.
16

PSALME V. Noctes meæ in mœrore transeunt.

1

Yet, Lord, vnquiet sinne is stirring,
My long nights, longer grow, like euening shades:
In which woe lost, is all waies erring:
And varied terror euery step inuades.
Wayes made in teares, shut as they ope,
My lodestarre I can no way see:
Lame is my faith, blind loue and hope,
And, Lord, tis passing ill with me.

2

My sleepe, like glasse, in dreames is broken,
No quiet yeelding, but affright and care,
Signes that my poore life is forspoken:
Lord, courbe the ill, and good in place prepare.
No more delay my spent desire,
Tis now full time, for thee to heare:
Thy loue hath set my soule on fire,
My heart quite broke twixt hope and feare.
17

3

No outward light, my life hath graced,
My mind hath euer bene my onely Sunne:
And that so farre hath enuie chaced,
That all in clouds her hated head is runne.
And while she hides, immortall cares
Consume the soule, that sense inspires:
Since outward she sets eyes and eares,
And other ioyes spend her desires.

4

She musters both without and in me,
Troubles, and tumults: she's my houshold theefe,
Opes all my doores to lust, and enuie,
And all my persecutors lends releefe.
Bind her, Lord, and my true soule free,
Preferre the gift thy hand hath giuen:
Thy image in her, crowne in me,
And make vs here free, as in heauen.
All glorie to the Father be,
And to the Sonne, &c.
18

PSALME VI. Circumuallarunt me inimici.

1

My foes haue girt me in with armes,
And earthquakes tost vp all my ioynts,
No flesh can answer their alarmes,
Each speare they manage hath so many points.

2

Death, arm'd in all his horrors, leades:
Whom more I charge, the lesse he yeelds:
Affections, with an hundred heads,
Conspire with them, & turne on me their shields

3

Nor looke I yet, Lord, to the East,
Nor hope for helpe, where I am will'd:
Nor, as I ought, haue arm'd my breast;
But rust in sloth, and naked come to field.

4

And therefore hath the host of starres
Now left me, that before I led:
19

Arm'd Angels tooke my pay in warres,
Frō whose height falne, all leaue me here for dead.

5

In falling, I discern'd how sleight,
My footing was on those blest towres.
I lookt to earth, and her base height,
And so lost heauen, and all his aidfull powres.

6

Now, broke on earth, my bodie lies,
Where theeues insult on my sad fall:
Spoyle me of many a daintie prise,
That farre I fetcht, t'enrich my soule withall.

7

Nor ceasse they, but deforme me too,
With wounds that make me all engor'd:
And in the desart, leaue me so,
Halfe dead, all naked, and of all abhorr'd.

8

My head, and bosome, they transfixt,
But in my torne affections rag'd:
Wounds there, with blood, and matter mixt,
20

Corrupt and leaue my very soule engag'd.

9

There, Lord, my life doth most misgiue,
There quickly thy white hand bestow:
Thou liu'st, and in thee I may liue.
Thy fount of life doth euer ouerflow.

10

All this from heauen, thy eyes explore,
Yet silent sitst, and sufferst all:
Since all I well deserue, and more;
And must confesse me, wilfull in my fall:

11

And hence tis, that thou letst me bleed,
Mak'st all men shun, and skorne my life:
That all my workes such enuie breed,
And my disgrace giues food to all mens strife.

12

But this, since Goodnesse oft doth cause,
And tis Goods grace to heare his ill:
Since tis a chiefe point in his lawes,
No thought, without our powre, to make our wil.
21

13

Still let the greene seas of their gall,
Against this rocke with rage be borne:
And from their height, still let me fall:
Them, stand and laugh, & me lie still and scorne.

14

But, Lord, my fall from thee, ô raise,
And giue my fainting life thy breath:
Sound keepe me euer in thy waies,
Thou mightie art, and setst downe lawes to death.

15

Driue thou from this my ruines rape,
These theeues, that make thy Phane their den:
And let my innocence escape
The cunning malice of vngodly men.
All glorie to the Father be,
And to the Sonne as great as he:
With the coequall sacred Spirit:
Who all beginnings were before,
Are, and shall be euermore.
Glorie, all glorie to their merit.
22

PSALME VII. Cogitabam stare.

1

While I was falne, I thought to rise,
And stand, presuming on my thies:
But thighes, and knees, were too much broken.
My haire stood vp to see such bane
Depresse presumption so prophane:
I tremble but to heare it spoken.

2

Yet in my strength, my hope was such,
Since I conceiu'd, thou vow'dst as much:
I fain'd dreames, and reioyc't to faine them:
But weighing awake, thy vowes profound,
Their depth, my lead came short to sound:
And now, aye me, my teares containe them.

3

For calmes, I into stormes did stere,
And look't through clouds, to see things cleare,
Thy waies shew'd crook't, like speares in water;
23

When mine went trauerse, and no Snake
Could winde with that course, I did take:
No Courtier could so grosly flatter.

4

But which way I soeuer bend,
Thou meet'st me euer in the end:
Thy finger strikes my ioynts with terrors;
Yet no more strikes, then points the way:
Which, weighing weeping, straight I stay,
And with my teares cleanse feete and errors.

5

But of my selfe, when I beleeue
To make my steps, thy waies atchieue,
I turne head, and am treading mazes:
I feele sinnes ambush; and am vext
To be in error so perplext,
Nor yet can finde rests holy places.

6

I loath my selfe, and all my deeds,
Like Rubarbe taste, or Colchean weeds:
I flie them, with their throwes vpon me.
24

In each new purpose, customes old,
So checke it, that the stone I rold
Neuer so oft, againe fals on me.

7

No step in mans trust should be trod,
Vnlesse in mans, as his in God:
Of which trust, make good life the founder:
Without which, trust no forme, nor art;
Faiths loadstarre is a guiltlesse heart;
Good life is truths most learn'd expounder.

8

With which, Lord, euer rule my skill;
In which, as I ioyne powre with will,
So let me trust, my truth in learning,
To such minds, thou all truth setst ope:
The rest are rapt with stormes past hope;
The lesse, for more deepe arts discerning.

9

Blesse, Lord, who thus their arts employ,
Their sure truth, celebrate with ioy,
And teare the maskes from others faces;
25

That make thy Name, a cloake for sinne;
Learning but termes to iangle in,
And so disgrace thy best of Graces.

10

Whereof since I haue onely this,
That learnes me what thy true will is,
Which thou, in comforts still concludest;
My poore Muse still shall sit, and sing,
In that sweete shadow of thy wing,
Which thou to all earths state obtrudest.

11

As oft as I my fraile foote moue,
From this pure fortresse of thy loue:
So oft let my glad foes deride me.
I know my weakenesse yet, and feare,
By triall, to build comforts there,
It doth so like a ruine hide me.

12

My worth is all, but shade, I finde,
And like a fume, before the winde;
I gaspe with sloth, thy waies applying:
26

Lie tumbling in corrupted blood;
Loue onely, but can do no good:
Helpe, Lord, lest I amend not dying.
All glorie to the Father be,
And to the Sonne as great as he,
With the coequall sacred Spirit:
Who all beginnings were before:
Are, and shall be euermore.
Glorie, all glorie to their merit,
The end of Petrarchs seuen Penitentiall Psalmes.
27

THE I. PSALME

more strictly translated.

1

O me accurst, since I haue set on me
(Incenst so sternely) my so meeke Redeemer;
And haue bene proud in prides supreme degree;
Of his so serious law, a sleight esteemer.

2

I left the narrow right way with my will,
In bywaies brode, and farre about transferred:
And euery way found toyle, and euery ill,
Yet still in tracts more rough, and steepe I erred.

3

Where one or other of the brutish heard
My feete encounterd, yet more brute affected:
Euen to the dens of sauage beasts I err'd,
And there my manlesse mansion house erected.

4

I haunted pleasure still, where sorrow mournd,
28

My couch of ease, in sharpest brambles making:
I hop't for rest, where restlesse torment burnd,
In ruines bosome, sleepes securely taking.

5

Now then, aye me, what resteth to be done,
Where shall I turne me, where such dangers trēble?
My youths faire flowres, are altogether gone,
And now a wretched shipwracke I resemble.

6

That (all the merchandise, and venture lost,)
Swims naked forth, with seas and tempests tost.

7

Farre from my hauen, I roue, touch at no streme
That any course to my saluation tenders:
But waies sinister, rauish me with them:
I see a little; which more grieuous renders

8

My inward conflict; since my charges passe
Vpon my selfe; and my sad soule endanger:
Anger with sinne striues; but so huge a masse
Of cruell miseries oppresse mine anger,
29

9

That it confounds me, nor leaues place for breath,
Oft I attempt to flie, and meditation
Contends to shake off my old yoke of death,
But to my bones cleaues the vncur'd vexation.

10

O that at length, my necke his yoke could cleare,
Which would be straite, wouldst thou ô highest will it:
O that so angrie with my sinne I were,
That I could loue thee, though thus late fulfill it.

11

But much I feare it, since my freedome is
So with mine owne hands out of heart, & sterued:
And I must yeeld, my torment iust in this,
Sorrow, and labor, wring me most deserued.

12

Mad wretch, what haue I to my selfe procured?
Mine owne hands forg'd, the chains I haue endur'd.

13

In deaths blacke ambush, with my will I fell,
30

And wheresoeuer vulgar brode waies traine me:
Nets are disposde for me, by him of hell.
When more retir'd, more narrow paths containe me.

14

There meete my feete with fitted snares as sure,
I (wretch looke downeward, and of one side euer;
And euerie slipperie way I walke secure,
My sins forget their traitrous flatteries neuer.

15

I thought the grace of youth could neuer erre,
And follow'd where his boundles force wold driue me,
Said to my selfe; Why should th' extremes deterre,
Before youths season, of the meane depriue me?

16

Each age is bounded in his proper ends;
God, I know, sees this, but he laughs and sees it:
Pardon, at any time, on prayre attends;
Repentance still weeps when thy wish decrees it.

17

Then vilest custome challengeth his slaue,
And laies on hand, that all defence denies me;
31

And then no place reseru'd for flight I haue:
Subdu'd I am, and farre my refuge flies me.

17

Die in my sinne I shall, vnlesse my aide
Stoopes from aloft, of which deserts depriue me.
Yet haue thou mercie, Lord, helpe one dismaide,
Thy word retain, & from hell mouth retriue me.
All glorie to the Father be,
And to the Sonne as great as he:
With the coequall sacred Spirit;
Who all beginnings were before,
Are, and shall be euermore.
Glorie, all glorie to their merit.
32

A HYMNE TO OVR Sauiour on the Crosse.

Haile great Redeemer, man, and God, all haile,
Whose feruent agonie, tore the temples vaile,
Let sacrifices out, darke Prophesies
And miracles: and let in, for all these,
A simple pietie, a naked heart,
And humble spirit, that no lesse impart,
And proue thy Godhead to vs, being as rare,
And in all sacred powre, as circulare.
Water and blood mixt, were not swet from thee
With deadlier hardnesse: more diuinitie
Of supportation, then through flesh and blood,
Good doctrine is diffusde, and life as good.
O open to me then, (like thy spread armes
That East & West reach) all those misticke charmes
That hold vs in thy life and discipline:
Thy merits in thy loue so thrice diuine;
It made thee, being our God, assume our man;
And like our Champion Olympian,
Come to the field gainst Sathan, and our sinne:
33

Wrastle with torments, and the garland winne
From death & hell; which cannot crown our browes
But blood must follow: thornes mixe wt thy bowes
Of conquering Lawrell, fast naild to thy Crosse,
Are all the glories we can here engrosse.
Proue then to those, that in vaine glories place
Their happinesse here: thy hold not by thy grace,
To those whose powres, proudly oppose thy lawes,
Oppressing Vertue, giuing Vice applause:
They neuer manage iust authoritie,
But thee in thy deare members crucifie.
Thou couldst haue come in glorie past them all,
With powre to force thy pleasure, and empale
Thy Church with brasse, & Adamant, that no swine,
Nor theeues, nor hypocrites, nor fiends diuine
Could haue broke in, or rooted, or put on
Vestments of Pietie, when their hearts had none:
Or rapt to ruine with pretext, to saue:
Would pompe, and radiance, rather not out braue
Thy naked truth, then cloath, or countnance it
34

With grace, and such sincerenesse as is fit:
But since true pietie weares her pearles within,
And outward paintings onely pranke vp sinne:
Since bodies strengthned, soules go to the wall;
Since God we cannot serue and Beliall.
Therefore thou putst on, earths most abiect plight,
Hid'st thee in humblesse, vnderwentst despight,
Mockerie, detraction, shame, blowes, vilest death.
These, thou, thy souldiers taughtst to fight beneath:
Mad'st a commanding President of these,
Perfect, perpetuall: bearing all the keyes
To holinesse, and heauen. To these, such lawes
Thou in thy blood writst: that were no more cause
T'enflame our loues, and feruent faiths in thee,
Then in them, truths diuine simplicitie,
Twere full enough; for therein we may well
See thy white finger furrowing blackest hell,
In turning vp the errors that our sence
And sensuall powres, incurre by negligence
Of our eternall truth-exploring soule.
35

All Churches powres, thy writ word doth controule;
And, mixt it with the fabulous Alchoran,
A man might boult it out, as floure from branne;
Easily discerning it, a heauenly birth,
Brake it but now out, and but crept on earth.
Yet (as if God lackt mans election,
And shadowes were creators of the Sunne)
Men must authorise it: antiquities
Must be explor'd, to spirit, and giue it thies,
And controuersies, thicke as flies at Spring,
Must be maintain'd about th' ingenuous meaning;
When no stile can expresse it selfe so cleare,
Nor holds so euen, and firme a character.
Those mysteries that are not to be reacht,
Still to be striu'd with, make them more impeacht:
And as the Mill fares with an ill pickt grist,
When any stone, the stones is got betwist,
Rumbling together, fill the graine with grit;
Offends the eare, sets teeth an edge with it:
Blunts the pict quarrie so, twill grinde no more,
Spoyles bread, and scants the Millars custom'd store.
36

So in the Church, when controuersie fals,
It marres her musicke, shakes her batterd wals,
Grates tender consciences, and weakens faith;
The bread of life taints, & makes worke for Death;
Darkens truths light, with her perplext Abysmes,
And dustlike grinds men into sects and schismes.
And what's the cause? the words deficiencie?
In volume, matter, perspicutitie?
Ambition, lust, and damned auarice,
Peruert, and each the sacred word applies
To his prophane ends; all to profite giuen,
And pursnets lay to catch the ioyes of heauen.
Since truth, and reall worth, men seldome sease,
Impostors most, and sleightest learnings please:
And, where the true Church, like the nest should be
Of chast, and prouident Alcione:
(To which is onely one straight orifice,
Which is so strictly fitted to her sise,
That no bird bigger then her selfe, or lesse,
37

Can pierce and keepe it, or discerne th' accesse:
Nor which the sea it selfe, on which tis made,
Can euer ouerflow, or once inuade.
Now wayes so many to her Altars are,
So easie, so prophane, and populare:
That torrents charg'd with weeds, and sin-drownd beasts,
Breake in, lode, cracke them: sensuall ioyes and feasts
Corrupt their pure fumes: and the slendrest flash
Of lust, or profite, makes a standing plash
Of sinne about them, which men will not passe.
Looke (Lord) vpon them, build them wals of brasse,
To keepe prophane feete off: do not thou
In wounds and anguish euer ouerflow,
And suffer such in ease, and sensualitie,
Dare to reiect thy rules of humble life:
The minds true peace, & turne their zeales to strife,
For obiects earthly, and corporeall.
A tricke of humblesse now they practise all,
Confesse their no deserts, habilities none:
Professe all frailties, and amend not one:
As if a priuiledge they meant to claime
In sinning by acknowledging the maime
Sinne gaue in Adam: Nor the surplussage
38

Of thy redemption, seeme to put in gage
For his transgression: that thy vertuous paines
(Deare Lord) haue eate out all their former staines;
That thy most mightie innocence had powre
To cleanse their guilts: that the vnualued dowre
Thou mad'st the Church thy spouse, in pietie,
And (to endure paines impious) constancie,
Will and alacratie (if they inuoke)
To beare the sweete lode, and the easie yoke
Of thy iniunctions, in diffusing these
(In thy perfection) through her faculties:
In euery fiuer, suffering to her vse,
And perfecting the forme thou didst infuse
In mans creation: made him cleare as then
Of all the frailties, since defiling men.
And as a runner at th' Olympian games,
With all the luggage he can lay on, frames
His whole powres to ye race, bags, pockets, greaues
Stuft full of sand he weares, which when he leaues,
And doth his other weightie weeds vncouer,
With which halfe smotherd, he is wrapt all ouer:
39

Then seemes he light, and fresh as morning aire;
Guirds him with silkes, swaddles with roulers faire
His lightsome body: and away he scoures
So swift, and light, he scarce treads down the flowrs:
So to our game proposde, of endlesse ioy
(Before thy deare death) when we did employ,
Our tainted powres; we felt them clogd and chain'd
With sinne and bondage, which did rust, and raign'd
In our most mortall bodies: but when thou
Strip'dst vs of these bands, and from foote to brow
Guirt, rold, and trimd vs vp in thy deserts:
Free were our feete, and hands; and spritely hearts
Leapt in our bosoms; and (ascribing still
All to thy merits: both our powre and will
To euery thought of goodnesse, wrought by thee;
That diuine scarlet, in which thou didst die
Our cleansd consistens; lasting still in powre
T'enable acts in vs, as the next howre
To thy most sauing, glorious sufferance)
We may make all our manly powres aduance
Vp to thy Image; and these formes of earth,
Beauties and mockeries, match in beastly birth:
40

We may despise, with still aspiring spirits
To thy high graces, in thy still fresh merits:
Not touching at this base and spongie mould,
For any springs of lust, or mines of gold.
For else (milde Sauiour, pardon me to speake)
How did thy foote, the Serpents forhead breake?
How hath the Nectar of thy vertuous blood,
The sinke of Adams forfeit ouerflow'd?
How doth it set vs free, if we still stand
(For all thy sufferings) bound both foote and hand
Vassals to Sathan? Didst thou onely die,
Thine owne diuine deserts to glorifie,
And shew thou couldst do this? O were not those
Giuen to our vse in powre? If we shall lose
By damn'd relapse, grace to enact that powre:
And basely giue vp our redemptions towre,
Before we trie our strengths, built all on thine,
And with a humblesse, false, and Asinine,
Flattering our senses, lay vpon our soules
41

The burthens of their conquests, and like Moules
Grouell in earth still, being aduanc't to heauen:
(Cowes that we arre) in heards how are we driuen
To Sathans shambles? Wherein stand we for
Thy heauenly image, Hels great Conqueror?
Didst thou not offer, to restore our fall
Thy sacrifice, full, once, and one for all?
If we be still downe, how then can we rise
Againe with thee, and seeke crownes in the skies?
But we excuse this; saying, We are but men,
And must erre, must fall: what thou didst sustaine
To free our beastly frailties, neuer can
With all thy grace, by any powre in man
Make good thy Rise to vs: O blasphemie
In hypocriticall humilitie!
As we are men, we death and hell controule,
Since thou createdst man a liuing soule:
As euerie houre we sinne, we do like beasts:
Needlesse, and wilfull, murthering in our breasts
Thy saued image, out of which, one cals
42

Our humane soules, mortall celestials:
When casting off a good lifes godlike grace,
We fall from God; and then make good our place
When we returne to him: and so are said
To liue: when life like his true forme we leade,
And die (as much as an immortall creature:)
Not that we vtterly can ceasse to be,
But that we fall from lifes best qualitie.
But we are tost out of our humane Throne
By pied and Protean opinion;
We vouch thee onely, for pretext and fashion,
And are not inward with thy death and passion.
We slauishly renounce the royaltie
With which thou crownst vs in thy victorie:
Spend all our manhood in the fiends defence,
And drowne thy right, in beastly negligence.
God neuer is deceiu'd so, to respect,
His shade in Angels beauties, to neglect
His owne most cleare and rapting louelinesse:
Nor Angels dote so on the species
And grace giuen to our soule (which is their shade)
43

That therefore they will let their owne formes fade.
And yet our soule (which most deserues our woe,
And that from which our whole mishap doth flow)
So softn'd is, and rapt (as with a storme)
With flatteries of our base corporeall forme,
(Which is her shadow) that she quite forsakes
Her proper noblesse, and for nothing takes
The beauties that for her loue, thou putst on;
In torments rarefied farre past the Sunne.
Hence came the cruell fate that Orpheus
Sings of Narcissus: who being amorous
Of his shade in the water (which denotes
Beautie in bodies, that like water flotes)
Despisd himselfe, his soule, and so let fade
His substance for a neuer-purchast shade.
Since soules of their vse, ignorant are still,
With this vile bodies vse, men neuer fill.
And, as the Suns light, in streames ne're so faire
Is but a shadow, to his light in aire,
His splendor that in aire we so admire,
Is but a shadow to his beames in fire:
In fire his brightnesse, but a shadow is
To radiance fir'd, in that pure brest of his:
44

So as the subiect on which thy grace shines,
Is thicke, or cleare; to earth or heauen inclines;
So that truths light showes; so thy passion takes;
With which, who inward is, and thy breast makes
Bulwarke to his breast, against all the darts
The foe still shoots more, more his late blow smarts,
And sea-like raues most, where tis most withstood.
He tasts the strength and vertue of thy blood:
He knows that when flesh is most sooth'd, & grac't,
Admir'd and magnified, ador'd, and plac't
In height of all the blouds Idolatry,
And fed with all the spirits of Luxury,
One thought of ioy, in any soule that knowes
Her owne true strength, and thereon doth repose;
Bringing her bodies organs to attend
Chiefly her powres, to her eternall end;
Makes all things outward; and the sweetest sin,
That rauisheth the beastly flesh within;
All but a fiend, prankt in an Angels plume:
A shade, a fraud, before the wind a fume.
Hayle then diuine Redeemer, still all haile,
All glorie, gratitude, and all auaile,
45

Be giuen thy all deseruing agonie;
Whose vineger thou Nectar mak'st in me,
Whose goodnesse freely all my ill turnes good:
Since yu being crusht, & straind throgh flesh & blood:
Each nerue and artire needs must tast of thee.
What odour burn'd in ayres that noisome be,
Leaues not his sent there? O then how much more
Must thou, whose sweetnesse swet eternall odour,
Stick where it breath'd: & for whō thy sweet breath,
Thou freely gau'st vp, to reuine his death?
Let those that shrink then as their conscience lodes,
That fight in Sathans right, and faint in Gods,
Still count them slaues to Sathan. I am none:
Thy fight hath freed me, thine yu mak'st mine owne.
O then (my sweetest and my onely life)
Confirme this comfort, purchast with thy griefe,
And my despisde soule of the world, loue thou:
No thought to any other ioy I vow.
Order these last steps of my abiect state,
Straite on the marke a man should leuell at:
And grant that while I striue to forme in me,
Thy sacred image, no aduersitie
46

May make me draw one limme, or line amisse:
Let no vile fashion wrest my faculties
From what becomes that Image. Quiet so
My bodies powres, that neither weale nor wo,
May stirre one thought vp, gainst thy freest will.
Grant, that in me, my mindes waues may be still:
The world for no extreme may vse her voice;
Nor Fortune treading reeds, make any noise.
Amen.
 

Simplicitie of pietie, and good life, answerable to such doctrine in men; now as rare as miracles in other times: and require as much diuinitie of supportation.

As our Sauiours browes bled with his crowne of thorns.

Such as are Diuines in profession; and in fact, diuels, or Wolues in sheepes clothing

Pompe and outward glorie, rather outface truth then countenance is.

Christ taught all his militant souldiers to fight vnder the ensignes of Shame and Death.

We need no other excitation to our faith in God, and goodlife, but the Scriptures, and vse of their meanes prescribed.

Τα μεν παρεργα ως εργα:τα δε εργα ως παρεργα. In these controuersies men make the By the Maine: the Maine the By.

Simile.

Men seeke heauen, with vsing the enemies to it; Money and Auarice.

Alciones nest described in part, out of Plut. to which the Church is compared.

If the bird be lesse, the sea will get in; by which meanes though she may get in, she could not preserue it.

Altars of the Church for her holiest places vnderstood.

Vbi abundauit delictum, superabundanit gratia. Rom. 5. ver. 20.

A simile, to life expressing mans estate, before our Sauiours descension.

Our Sauiours blood, now and euer, as fresh, and vertuous as in the howre it was shed for vs,

Our Sauiour suffered nothing for himselfe, his owne betternesse, or comfort: but for vs and ours.

It is false humilitie to lay necessarily (all our Sauiours grace vnderstood) the victorie of our bodies, on our soules.

Man is a liuing soule. Gen. 2.

We do not like men when we sin, (for as we are true and worthie men, we are Gods images:) but like brutish creatures, slauishly and wilfully conquered with the powers of flesh.

ου τη εις το μη ειναι εκβασει, αλλα τουτα εν ειναι αποπτησει. Hier. in Carm. Pythag. Non quod existere desinat, sed quod vitæ præstantia exciderit.

Simile.

The minds ioy farre aboue the bodies, to those few, whom God hath inspird with the soules true vse.

Inuocatio.

Complaine not whatsoeuer Need inuades,
But heauiest fortunes beare as lightest shades.
Ανεχου και Απεχου
47

Poems.

VIRGILS EPIGRAM of a good man.

A good and wise man (such as hardly one
Of millions, could be found out by the Sun)
Is Iudge himselfe, of what stufte he is wrought,
And doth explore his whole man to a thought.
What ere great men do; what their sawcie bawdes;
What vulgar censure barks at, or applauds:
His cariage still is chearfull and secure;
He, in himselfe, worldlike, full, round, and sure.
Lest, through his polisht parts, the slendrest staine
Of things without, in him should sit, and raigne;
To whatsoeuer length, the fierie Sunne,
Burning in Cancer, doth the day light runne;
How farre soeuer Night shall stretch her shades,
When Phœbus gloomie Capricorne inuades;
He studies still; and with the equall beame,
48

His ballance turnes; himselfe weighs to th' extreme.
Lest any crannie gaspe, or angle swell
Through his strict forme: and that he may compell
His equall parts to meete in such a sphere,
That with a compasse tried, it shall not erre:
What euer subiect is, is solide still:
Wound him, and with your violent fingers feele
All parts within him, you shall neuer find
An emptie corner, or an abiect mind.
He neuer lets his watchfull lights descend,
To those sweet sleepes that all iust men attend,
Till all the acts the long day doth beget,
With thought on thought laid, he doth oft repeate:
Examines what hath past him, as forgot:
49

What deed or word was vsde in time, what not.
Why this deed of Decorum felt defect?
Of reason, that? What left I by neglect?
Why set I this opinion downe for true,
That had bene better chang'd? Why did I rue
Need in one poore so, that I felt my mind
(To breach of her free powres) with griefe declin'd?
Why will'd I what was better not to will?
Why (wicked that I was) preferr'd I still
Profite to honestie? Why any one
Gaue I a foule word? or but lookt vpon,
With count'nance churlish? Why should nature draw
More my affects, then manly reasons law?
Through all this thoughts, words works, thus making way,
And all reuoluing, frō the Euen till Day:
50

Angrie, with what amisse, abusde the light,
Palme and reward he giues to what was right.
 

The Sunne vsurpt for Apollo; whose Oracle being aske for such a man, found onely Socrates.

Externæ nequid labis per læuia sidat. This verse Ascensius ioynes with the next before; which is nothing so; the sence being vtterly repugnant, as any impartiall and iudiciall conferrer (I suppose) will confirme.

Cogitat, & iusto trutinæ se examine pensat. This verse is likewise misioyned in the order of Ascenscius, which makes the period to those before.

I here needlesly take a little licence: for the word is Amussis, the mind of the Author being as well exprest in A compasse.

Sit solidum quod cunque subest, nec inania subtus. Subest and subtus Ascens. confounds in his sence; which the presnesse and matter of this Poem allowes not: it being in a Translator sooner and better seen then a Commentor.

He would turne digitis pellentibus, to digitis palantibus. To which place, the true order is hard to hit. And that truth in my conuersion (how opposite soeuer any may stand) with any conference, I make no doubt I shall perswade.

Miseratus egentē, cur aliquē fracta persensi mente dolorem. Ascens very iudicially makes this good man in this dittie, opposite to a good Christian, since Christ (the president of all good men) enioynes vs, vt supra omnia misericordes simus. But his meaning here is, that a good and wise man should not so pitie the want of any, that he should want manly patience himselfe to sustaine it. And his reason Seruius alledgeth for him is this, saying, In quem cadit vna mentis perturbatio, posse in eum omnes cadere: sicut pot est omni virtute pollere cui virtus vna contigerit.

A great Man.

A great and politicke man (which I oppose
To good and wise) is neuer as he showes.
Neuer explores himselfe to find his faults:
But cloaking them, before his conscience halts.
Flatters himselfe, and others flatteries buyes,
Seemes made of truth, and is a forge of lies.
Breeds bawdes and sycophants, and traitors makes
To betray traitors; playes, and keepes the stakes,
Is iudge and iuror, goes on life and death:
And damns before the fault hath any breath.
Weighs faith in falsehoods ballance; iustice does
To cloake oppression; taile-like downward groes:
Earth his whole end is: heauen he mockes, and hell:
And thinkes that is not, that in him doth dwell.
Good, with Gods right hand giuē, his left takes t'euil:
51

When holy most he seemes, he most is euill.
Ill vpon ill he layes: th' embroderie
Wrought on his state, is like a leprosie,
The whiter, still the fouler. What his like,
What ill in all the bodie politike
Thriues in, and most is curst: his most blisse fires:
And of two ils, still to the worst aspires.
When his thrift feeds, iustice and mercie feare him:
And ( Wolf-like fed) he gnars at all men nere him.
Neuer is chearefull, but when flatterie trailes
On squatting profite; or when Policie vailes
Some vile corruption: that lookes red with anguish
Like wauing reeds, his windshook cōforts languish.
Paies neuer debt, but what he should not ow;
Is sure and swift to hurt, yet thinks him slow.
His bountie is most rare, but when it comes,
'Tis most superfluous, and with strook-vp drums.
52

Lest any true good pierce him, with such good
As ill breeds in him, Mortar, made with blood
Heapes stone-wals in his heart, to keepe it out.
His sensuall faith, his soules truth keepes in doubt,
And like a rude, vnlearn'd Plebeian,
Without him seekes his whole insulting man.
Nor can endure, as a most deare prospect,
To looke into his owne life, and reflect
Reason vpon it, like a Sunne still shining,
To giue it comfort, ripening, and refining:
But his blacke soule, being so deformd with sinne,
He still abhorres; with all things hid within:
And forth he wanders, with the outward fashion,
Feeding, and fatting vp his reprobation.
Disorderly he sets foorth euerie deed,
Good neuer doing, but where is no need.
If any ill he does, (and hunts through blood,
For shame, ruth, right, religion) be withstood,
53

The markt withstander, his race, kin, least friend,
That neuer did, in least degree offend,
He prosecutes, with hir'd intelligence
To fate, defying God and conscience,
And to the vtmost mite, he rauisheth
All they can yeeld him, rackt past life and death.
In all his acts, he this doth verifie,
The greater man, the lesse humanitie.
While Phebus runs his course through all the signes,
He neuer studies; but he vndermines,
Blowes vp, and ruines, with pretext to saue:
Plots treason, and lies hid in th' actors graue.
Vast crannies gaspe in him, as wide as hell,
And angles, gibbet-like, about him swell:
Yet seemes he smooth and polisht, but no more
Solide within, then is a Medlars core.
The kings frown fels him, like a gun-strooke fowle:
When downe he lies, and casts the calfe his soule.
He neuer sleepes but being tir'd with lust:
Examines what past, not enough vniust;
Not bringing wealth enough, not state, not grace:
Not shewing miserie bedrid in his face:
Not skorning vertue, not deprauing her,
54

Whose ruth so flies him, that her Bane's his cheare.
In short, exploring all that passe his guards,
Each good he plagues, and euerie ill rewards.
 

A great & politike man, such as is, or may be opposed, to good or wise.

The priuation of a good life, and therein the ioyes of heauen, is hell in this world.

As Wolues and Tigers horribly gnarre, in their feeding: so these zealous, and giuen-ouer great ones to their own lusts and ambitions: in aspiriring to them, and their ends, fare, to all that come nere them in competencie: or that resist their deuouring.

This alludeth to hounds vpon the traile of a squat Hare, and making a chearefull crie about her, is applyed to the forced cheare or flatterie this great man sheweth, when he hunts for his profite.

Plebeij status & nota est nunquam à seipso vel damnum expectare, vel vtilitatem, sed à rebus externis.

How a good great man should employ his greatnesse.

The most vnchristian disposition of a great and ill man, in following any that withstand his ill.

This hath reference (as most of the rest hath) to the good man before, being this mans opposite.

A sleight man.

A sleight, and mixt man (set as twere the meane
Twixt both the first) frō both their heapes doth gleane:
Is neither good, wise, great, nor polititick,
Yet tastes of all these with a naturall tricke.
Nature and Art, sometimes meet in his parts:
Sometimes deuided are: the austere arts,
Splint him together, set him in a brake
Of forme and reading. Nor is let partake
With iudgement, wit, or sweetnesse: but as time,
Terms, language, and degrees, haue let him clime,
To learn'd opinion; so he there doth stand,
Starke as a statue; stirres nor foote nor hand.
Nor any truth knowes: knowledge is a meane
To make him ignorant, and rapts him cleane,
In stormes from truth. For what Hippocrates
Sayes of foule bodies (what most nourishes,
55

That most annoies them) is more true of minds:
For there, their first inherent prauitie blinds
Their powres preiudicate: and all things true
Proposd to them, corrupts, and doth eschue:
Some, as too full of toyle; of preiudice some:
Some fruitlesse, or past powre to ouercome:
With which, it so augments, that he will seeme
With iudgment, what he should hold, to contemne
And is incurable. And this is he
Whose learning formes not lifes integritie.
This the mere Artist; the mixt naturalist,
With foole quicke memorie, makes his hand a fist,
And catcheth Flies, and Nifles: and retaines
With heartie studie, and vnthriftie paines,
What your composd man shuns. With these his pen
And prompt tongue tickles th' eares of vulgar men:
Sometimes takes matter too, and vtters it
With an admir'd and heauenly straine of wit:
Yet with all this, hath humors more then can
Be thrust into a foole, or to a woman.
56

As nature made him, reason came by chance,
Held her torch to him, cast him in a trance;
And makes him vtter things that (being awake
In life and manners) he doth quite forsake.
He will be graue, and yet is light as aire;
He will be proude, yet poore euen to despaire.
Neuer sat Truth in a tribunall fit,
But in a modest, staid, and humble wit.
I rather wish to be a naturall bred,
Then these great wits with madnesse leauened.
He's bold, and frontlesse, passionate, and mad,
Drunken, adulterous, good at all things bad.
Yet for one good, he quotes the best in pride,
And is enstil'd a man well qualifide.
These delicate shadowes of things vertuous then
Cast on these vitious, pleasing, patcht vp men,
Are but the diuels cousenages to blind
Mens sensuall eyes, and choke the enuied mind.
And where the truly learnd is euermore
Gods simple Image, and true imitator:
57

These sophisters are emulators still
(Cousening, ambitious) of men true in skill.
Their imperfections yet are hid in sleight,
Of the felt darknesse, breath'd out by deceipt,
The truly learn'd, is likewise hid, and failes
To pierce eyes vulgar, but with other vailes.
And they are the diuine beames, truth casts round
About his beauties, that do quite confound
Sensuall beholders. Scuse these rare seene then,
And take more heede of common sleighted men.
 

Intending in his writing, &c.

Quo magis alantur, eo magis ea lædi.

To be therefore instructed in the truth of knowledge, or aspire to any egregious vertue; not stiffe & uniointed Art serues but he must be helpt besides, benigniore nascendi hora. According to this of Iuuenal.—plus etenim fati valet hora benigni, Quam fi te Veneris commendet epistola Marti.

The truly learned imitateth God, the sophister emulateth man. His imperfections are hid in the mists imposture breathes: the others perfections are unseene by the brightnesse truth casts about his temples, that dazle ignorant and corrupt beholders, or apprehenders.

A good woman.

A woman good, and faire (which no dame can
Esteeme much easier found then a good man)
Sets not her selfe to shew, nor found would be:
Rather her vertues flie abroad then she.
Dreames not on fashions, loues no gossips feasts,
Affects no newes, no tales, no guests, no ieasts:
Her worke, and reading writs of worthiest men:
Her husbands pleasure, well taught childeren:
Her housholds fit prouision to see spent,
As fits her husbands will, and his consent:
Spends pleasingly her time, delighting still,
To her iust dutie, to adapt her will.
58

Vertue she loues, rewards and honors it,
And hates all scoffing, bold and idle wit:
Pious and wise she is, and treads vpon
This foolish and this false opinion,
That learning fits not women; since it may
Her naturall cunning helpe, and make more way
To light, and close affects: for so it can
Courbe and compose them too, as in a man:
And, being noble, is the noblest meane,
To spend her time: thoughts idle and vncleane,
Preuenting and suppressing: to which end
She entertaines it: and doth more commend
Time spent in that, then houswiferies low kinds,
As short of that, as bodies are of minds.
If it may hurt, is powre of good lesse great,
Since food may lust excite, shall she not eate?
She is not Moone-like, that the Sunne, her spouse
Being furthest off, is cleare and glorious:
And being neare, growes pallid and obscure:
But in her husbands presence, is most pure,
In all chast ornaments, bright still with him,
And in his absence, all retir'd and dim:
With him still kind and pleasing, still the same;
Yet with her weeds, not putting off her shame:
59

But when for bed-rites her attire is gone,
In place thereof her modest shame goes on.
Not with her husband lies, but he with her:
And in their loue-ioyes doth so much prefer
Modest example, that she will not kisse
Her husband, when her daughter present is.
When a iust husband's right he would enioy,
She neither flies him, nor with moods is coy.
One, of the light dame sauours, th' other showes
Pride, nor from loues ingenuous humor flowes.
And as Geometricians approue,
That lines, nor superficies, do moue
Themselues, but by their bodies motions go:
So your good woman neuer striues to grow
Strong in her owne affections and delights,
But to her husbands equall appetites,
Earnests and ieasts, and lookes austeritles,
Her selfe in all her subiect powres applies.
Since lifes chiefe cares on him are euer laid,
In cares she euer comforts, vndismaid,
60

Though her heart grieues, her lookes yet makes it sleight,
Dissembling euermore, without deceit.
And as the twins of learn'd Hippocrates,
If one were sicke, the other felt disease:
If one reioyc't; ioy th' others spirits fed:
If one were grieu'd, the other sorrowed:
So fares she with her husband; euery thought
(Weightie in him) still watcht in her, and wrought.
And as those that in Elephants delight,
Neuer come neare them in weeds rich and bright;
Nor Buls approch in scarlet; since those hewes,
Through both those beasts, enrag'd affects diffuse:
And as from Tygres, men the Timbrels sound
And Cimbals keepe away; since they abound
Thereby in furie, and their owne flesh teare:
So when t'a good wife, it is made appeare,
That rich attire, and curiositie
In wires, tires, shadowes, do displease the eye
Of her lou'd husband; musicke, dancing, breeds
Offence in him; she layes by all those weeds,
Leaues dancing, musicke; and at euery part
Studies to please; and does it from her heart.
61

As greatnesse in a Steed; so dignitie
Needs in a woman, courbe, and bit, and eie,
If once she weds, shee's two for one before:
Single againe, she neuer doubles more.
 

Geometræ dicunt, lineas & superficies, non seipsis moueri, sed motus corporum comitari.

A good wife in most cares, should ever undismaid comfort her husband.

Simile.

A good wife watcheth her husbands serious thoughts in his lookes, and applies her owne to them.

Simile.

VIRGILS EPIGRAM of Play.

Despise base gaine; mad Auarice hurts the mind:
Ye wise, shun fraud; beleeue ye learn'd, ye blind.
At play put passions downe, as monies are.
He playes secure, whose trunks hold crowns to spare:
Who brings all with him, shall go out with none:
A greedie gamester euer ends vndone.
Peace holy is to men of honest minds;
If ye will play, then courbe your warring splenes:
No man wins alwayes. It shames mans true worth,
Of but three Furies, to fare like a fourth.
Correct your earnest spirits, and play indeed:
At staid yeares be not mou'd: nere play for need.
62

VIRGILS EPIGRAM of wine and women.

Be not enthrall'd with wine, nor womens loue,
For both by one meanes hurt: as women proue
Meanes to effeminate, and mens powres decline:
So doth the too much indulgence of wine,
Staggers the vpright steps a man should take,
Dissolues his nerues, and makes his goers weake.
Blind loue makes many all their thoughts expresse,
Whose like effect hath brainlesse drunkennesse.
Wilde Cupid oft beates vp warres sterne alarmes,
As oft fierce Bacchus cals our hands to armes.
Dishonest Venus made Mars Ilion sease:
And Bacchus lost with warre the Lapithes.
Lastly, when both make mad misgouern'd minds,
Feare, shame, all vertues vanish with the winds.
With Giues make Venus hold her legs together,
And bind Liæus in his iuie with her.
Let wine quench thirst, sweet Venus children beare,
Whose bounds once broke, ye buy their pleasures deare.
63

VIRGILS EPIGRAM of this letter Y.

This letter of Pythagoras, that beares
This forkt distinction, to conceit prefers
The forme mans life beares. Vertues hard way takes
Vpon the right hand path:which entrie makes
(To sensuall eyes) with difficult affaire:
But when ye once haue climb'd the highest staire,
The beautie and the sweetnesse it containes,
Giue rest and comfort, farre past all your paines.
The broad-way in a brauery paints ye forth
(In th' entrie) softnesse, and much shade of worth:
But when ye reach the top, the taken Ones
It headlong hurles downe, torne at sharpest stones.
He then, whom vertues loue, shall victor crowne,
Of hardest fortunes, praise wins and renowne:
But he that sloth and fruitlesse luxurie
Pursues, and doth with foolish warinesse flie
Opposed paines, (that all best acts befall)
Liues poore and vile, and dies despisde of all.
64

A FRAGMENT OF the Teares of peace.

O that some sacred labour would let in
The ocean through my womb, to clense my sin;
I, that belou'd of Heauen, as his true wife,
Was wont to bring forth a delightsome life
To all his creatures: and had vertues hand
To my deliuerance, decking euery land
(Where warre was banisht) with religious Temples,
Cloisters and monuments in admir'd examples
Of Christian pietie, and respect of soules,
Now drunke with Auarice and th' adulterous boules
Of the light Cyprian, and by Dis deflowr'd,
I bring forth seed, by which I am deuour'd:
Infectuous darknesse from my intrails flies,
That blasts Religion, breeds blacke heresies,
Strikes vertue bedrid, fame dumb, knowledge blind,
And for free bounties (like an Easterne wind)
Knits nets of Caterpillers, that all fruites
Of planting peace, catch with contentious suites.
And see (O heauen) a warre that inward breeds
Worse farre then Ciuill, where in brazen steeds,
Armes are let in vnseene, and fire and sword
65

Wound and consume men with the rauenous hord
Of priuate riches, like prickt pictures charm'd,
And hid in dunghils, where some one is arm'd
With armes of thousands; and in such small time,
(Euen out of nakednesse) that the dismall crime
Stickes in his blasing forehead like a starre,
Signall of rapine and spoile worse then warre,
These warres giue such slie poison for the spleene,
That men affect and studie for their teene,
That it recures the wolfe in auarice,
And makes him freely spend his golden thies:
Yet no one thought spends on poore Vertues peace.
Warres, that as peace abounds, do still increase.
Warres where in endlesse rout the kingdome erres,
Where misers mightie grow the mightie misers,
Where partiall Lucre Iustice sword doth draw:
Where Eris turnes into Eunomia,
And makes Mars weare the long robe, to performe
A fight more blacke and cruell, with lesse storme,
To make for stratageme, a policie driuen
Euen to the conquest, ere th' alarme be giuen.
And for set battels where the quarrell dies,
Warres that make lanes through whole posterities,
Arachne wins from Pallas all good parts,
66

To take her part, and euery part conuerts
His honie into poison: abusde Peace
Is turn'd to fruitlesse and impostum'd ease,
For whom the dwarfe Contraction is at worke
In all professions; and makes heauen lurke
In corner pleasures: learning in the braine
Of a dull linguist, and all tight in gaine,
All rule in onely powre, all true zeale
In trustlesse auarice: all the commonweale
In few mens purses. Volumes fild with fame
Of deathlesse soules, in signing a large name
Loue of all good in selfe loue: all deserts
In sole desert of hate. Thus Ease inuerts
My fruitfull labours, and swolne blind with lust,
Creepes from her selfe, trauailes in yeelding dust;
Euen reeking in her neuer shifted bed:
Where with benumd securitie she is fed:
Held vp in Ignorance, and Ambitions armes,
Lighted by Comets, sung to by blind charmes.
Behind whom Danger waites, subiection, spoyle,
Disease, and massacre, and vncrowned Toyle:
Earth sinkes beneath her, heauen fals: yet she deafe
Heares not their thundring ruines: nor one leafe
67

Of all her Aspen pleasures, euer stirres;
In such dead calmes her starke presumption erres.
 

Ease and Securitie described.

For good men.

A good man want? will God so much deny
His lawes, his witnesses, his ministrie?
Which onely for examples he maintaines
Against th'vnlearnd, to proue, he is, and raignes:
And all things gouerns iustly: nor neglects
Things humane, but at euery part protects
A good man so, that if he liues or dies,
All things sort well with him? If he denies
A plenteous life to me, and sees it fit
I should liue poorely; What, alas, is it?
But that (refusing to endanger me
In the forlorne hope of men rich and hie,)
Like a most carefull Captaine, he doth sound
Retraite to me; makes me come backe, giue ground
To any, that hath least delight to be
A scuffler in mans warre for vanitie?
And I obey, I follow, and I praise
My good Commander. All the cloudie daies
Of my darke life, my enuied Muse shall sing
68

His secret loue to goodnesse: I will bring
Glad tidings to the obscure few he keepes:
Tell his high deeds, his wonders, which the deepes,
Of pouertie, and humblesse, most expresse,
And weepe out (for kinde ioy) his holinesse.

Please with thy place.

God hath the whole world perfect made, & free;
His parts to th' vse of all. Men then, that be
Parts of that all, must as the generall sway
Of that importeth, willingly obay
In euerie thing, without their powres to change.
He that (vnpleasd to hold his place) will range,
Can in no other be containd, thats fit:
And so resisting all is crusht with it.
But he that knowing how diuine a frame
The whole world is, and of it all can name
(Without selfe flatterie) no part so diuine
As he himselfe, and therefore will confine
Freely, his whole powres, in his proper part:
Goes on most god-like. He that striues t'inuert
The vniuersall course, with his poore way:
Not onely, dustlike, shiuers with the sway;
69

But (crossing God in his great worke) all earth
Beares not so cursed, and so damn'd a birth.
This then the vniuersall discipline
Of manners comprehends: a man to ioyne
Himselfe with th' vniuerse, and wish to be
Made all with it, and go on, round as he.
Not plucking from the whole his wretched part,
And into streights, or into nought reuert:
Wishing the complete vniuerse might be
Subiect to such a ragge of it, as he.
But to consider great necessitie,
All things, as well refract, as voluntarie
Reduceth to the high celestiall cause:
Which he that yeelds to, with a mans applause,
And cheeke by cheeke goes, crossing it, no breath,
But like Gods image followes to the death:
That man is perfect wise, and euerie thing,
(Each cause and euerie part distinguishing)
In nature, with enough Art vnderstands,
And that full glorie merits at all hands,
That doth the whole world, at all parts adorne,
And appertaines to one celestiall borne.
70

Of sodaine Death.

VVhat action wouldst yu wish to haue in hand,
If sodain death shold corne for his cōmand.
I would be doing good to most good men
That most did need, or to their childeren,
And in aduice (to make them their true heires)
I would be giuing vp my soule to theirs.
To which effect if Death should find me giuen,
I would with both my hands held vp to heauen,
Make these my last words to my deitie:
Those faculties thou hast bestowd on me
To vnderstand thy gouernment and will
I haue, in all fit actions offerd still
To thy diuine acceptance, and as farre
As I had influence from thy bounties starre,
I haue made good thy forme infulde in me:
Th' anticipations giuen me naturally,
I haue with all my studie, art, and prayre
Fitted to euerie obiect, and affaire
My life presented, and my knowledge taught.
My poore saile, askt hath bene euer fraught
With thy free goodnesse, hath bene ballast to
With all my gratitude. What is to do,
71

Supply it sacred Sauiour: thy high grace
In my poore gifts, receiue againe, and place
Where it shall please thee: thy gifts neuer die
But, hauing brought one to felicitie,
Descend againe, and helpe another vp, &c.

Height in Humilitie.

VVhy should I speak imperious courtiers faire?
Lest they exclude thee, at thy Court repaire.
If they shall see me enter willingly,
Let them exclude me. If necessitie
Driue me amongst them, and they shut the dore,
I do my best, and they can do no more.
Gods will, and mine, then weigh'd: I his preferre,
Being his vow'd lackey, and poore sufferer:
I trie what his will is, and will with it:
No gate is shut to me; that shame must fit
Shamelesse intruders. Why feare I disgrace
To beare ill censure by a man of face?
Will any thinke that impudence can be
An equall demonstration of me?
Tis kingly, Cyrus (said Antisthenes)
When thou doest well, to heare this ill of these.
72

But many pitie thy defects in thee.
I mocke them euer that so pittie me.
Strangers they are, and know not what I am;
Where I place good and ill, nor euer came
Where my course lies: but theirs the world may know:
They lay it out, onely to name and show.
If comfort follow truth of knowledge still,
They meete with little truth; for if their skill
Get not applause, their comfort comes to nought.
I studie still to be, they to be thought.
Are they lesse frustrate of their ends then I?
Or fall they lesse into the ils they flie?
Are they industrious more? lesse passionate?
Lesse faltring in their course? more celebrate
Truth in their comforts? But they get before
Much in opinion. True, they seeke it more.

For stay in competence.

Thou that enioyst onely enough to liue,
Why grieu'st thou that the giuer does not giue
Foode with the fullest, when as much as thou
He thinkes him emptie? Tis a state so low
That I am fearefull euerie howre to sinke.
73

Well said. Vnthankfull fearefull, eate and drinke,
And feare to sterue still. Knowst thou not who sings
Before the theefe? The penurie of things
Whither conferres it? Drawes it not one breath
With great satietie? End not both in death?
Thy entrailes, with thy want, together shrinke;
He bursts with cruditie, and too much drinke.
Will not thy want then with a chearefull eye
Make thee expect death? whom sterne tyrannie,
Empire, and all the glut of thirstie store,
Shun with pale cheekes, affrighted euermore?
Earth is a whore, and brings vp all her brats
With her insatiate gadflie: euen her flats
High as her hils looke; lusting, lusting still,
No earthly pleasure euer hath her fill.
Turne a new leafe then: thirst for things past death;
And thou shalt neuer thinke of things beneath.
How should I thirst so, hauing no such heate?
Fast, pray, to haue it: better neuer eate,
Then still the more thou eatst the more desire.
But wilt thou quench this ouerneedie fire?
Canst thou not write, nor reade, nor keepe a gate?
Teach children, be a porter. That poore state
Were base and hatefull. Is that base to thee,
74

That is not thy worke? That necessitie
Inflicts vpon thee? that inuades thee to
Onely as head-aches and agues do?
That the great Ordrer of th' vniuerse sees
So good, he puts it in his master peece?
But men will scorne me. Let them then go by,
They will not touch thee: he that shifts his eye
To others eye-browes, must himselfe be blind.
Leau'st thou thy selfe for others? tis the mind
Of all that God and euery good forsakes.
If he goes thy way, follow: if he takes
An opposite course, canst thou still go along,
And end thy course? Go right, though all else wrong.
But you are learn'd, and know Philosophie
To be a shift to salue necessitie:
Loue syllogismes, figures, and to make
All men admire how excellent you spake.
Your caution is to keepe a studious eye,
Lest you be caught with carpes of sophistrie:
To be a man of reading, when alas,
All these are caught in a Plebeians case.
None such poore fooles, incontinent, couetous,
Atheisticall, deceitfull, villanous.
Shew me thy studies end, and what may be
75

Those weights and measures, that are vsde by thee,
To mete these ashes barreld vp in man.
Is not the wreath his, that most truly can
Make a man happie? And (in short) is that
Any way wrought more, then in teaching what
Will make a man most ioyfully embrace
The course his end holds, and his proper place?
Not suffering his affections to disperse,
But fit the maine sway of the vniuerse.

Of the Will.

The empire of the Will is euer sau'd,
Except lost by it selfe, when tis deprau'd.

Of Man.

Man is so soueraigne and diuine a state,
That not contracted and elaborate,
The world he beares about with him alone,
But euen the Maker makes his breast his throne.
76

Of a Philosopher.

Does a Philosopher inuite, or pray
Any to heare him? or not make his way,
As meate and drinke doth? or the Sunne excite
Onely by vertue of his heate and light?

Of Ambition.

Who, others loues and honors goes about,
Would haue things outward, not to be without.

Of Friendship.

Now I am old, my old friends loues I wish,
As I am good; & more old, grow more fresh.
Friends constant, not like lakes are standing euer,
But like sweete streames, euer the same, yet neuer
Still profiting themselues, and perfecting.
And as a riuer furthest from his spring,
Takes vertue of his course, and all the way
Greater and greater growes, till with the sea
He combats for his empire, and gets in,
Curling his billowes, till his stile he win:
77

So worthy men should make good to their ends,
Increase of goodnesse; such men make thy friends.
Such nobler are, the poorer was their source;
And though wt crooks & turns, yet keep their course,
Though till their strength, they did some weaknesse show,
(All thankes to God yet) now it is not so.
Will is the garden first, then Knowledge plants;
Who knowes and wils well, neuer vertue wants:
Though oft he faile in good, he nought neglects;
The affect, not the effect, God respects.
But as the Academickes euer rate
A man for learning, with that estimate
They made of him, when in the schooles he liu'd;
And how so ere he scatter'd since, or thriu'd,
Still they esteeme him as they held him then:
So fares it with the doomes of vulgar men;
If once they knew a man defectiue, still
The staine stickes by him; better he his skill,
His life and parts, till quite refin'd from him
He was at first; good drownes, ill still doth swim:
Best men are long in making: he that soone
Sparkles and flourishes, as soone is gone.
A wretched thing it is, when nature giues
A man good gifts, that still the more he liues,
78

The more they die. And where the complete man
(Much lesse esteem'd) is long before he can
The passage cleare, betwixt his soule and sense,
And of his body gaine such eminence,
That all his organs open are, and fit
To serue their Empresse. Th' other man of wit,
At first is seru'd with all those instruments:
Open they are, and full, and free euents
All he can thinke obtaines, and forth there flies
Flashes from him, thicke as the Meteord skies,
Like which he lookes, and vp drawes all mens eies,
Euen to amaze: yet like those Meteors,
(Onely in ayre imprest) away he soares,
His organs shut: and twixt his life and soule,
Sue a diuorce aliue. Such ne're enroule
In thy brasse booke of Friendship: such are made
To please light spirits, not to grow but fade.
Nor friends for old acquaintance chuse, but faith,
Discretion, good life, and contempt of death:
That foes wrongs beare with Christian patience,
Against which fighting, Reason hath no fence:
That lay their fingers on their lips the more,
The more their wrong'd simplicities deplore,
And stop their mouthes to euery enemies ill,
79

With th' ill he does them. Thus good men do still,
And onely good men friends are: make no friend
Of fleshie-beast-men, friendship's of the mind.

Of plentie and freedome in goodnesse.

Not to haue want, what riches doth exceed?
Not to be subiect, what superior thing?
He that to nought aspires, doth nothing need: Resp.
Who breakes no law, is subiect to no King.

Of Attention.

When for the least time, yu lett'st fall thine eare
From still attending, things still fit to heare,
And giu'st thy mind way to thy bodies will:
Imagine not thou hold'st the raines so still,
That at thy pleasure thou canst turne her in:
But be assur'd that one dayes soothed sinne,
Will aske thee many to amend and mourne:
And make thy mind so willing to adiourne
That instant-due amendment, that twill breed
A custome to do ill; and that will need
80

A new birth to reforme. What? May I then
(By any diligence, or powre in men)
Auoid transgression? No, tis past thy powre:
But this thou maist do; euery day and houre,
In that be labouring still, that lets transgression:
And worth my counsell tis, that this impression
Fixt in thy mind, and all meanes vsde in man,
He may trangresse as little as he can.
If still thou saist, To morrow I will win
My mind to this attention: therein
Thou saist as much, as this day I will be
Abiect and impudent: it shall be free
This day for others to liue Lords of me,
To leade and rule me: this day I will giue
Reines to my passions, I will enuious liue,
Wrathfull and lustfull: I will leaue the state
Man holds in me, and turne adulterate,
Vulgar and beastly. See to how much ill
Thou stand'st indulgent. But all this thy will
Shall mend to morrow: how much better twere
This day thou shouldst mans godlike scepter beare:
For if to morrow, in thy strengths neglect,
Much more to day, while tis vncounter-checkt.
81

To liue with little.

VVhen thou seest any honour'd by the king,
Oppose yu this, thou thirsts for no such thing.
When thou seest any rich, see what in sted
Of those his riches thou hast purchased.
If nothing, nothing fits such idle wretches.
If thou hast that, that makes thee need no riches,
Know thou hast more, and of a greater price,
And that which is to God a sacrifice.
When thou seest one linkt with a louely wife,
Thou canst containe, and leade a single life.
Seeme these things smal to thee? O how much more
Do euen those great ones, and those men of store
Desire those small things, then their greatest owne:
That they could scorn their states so bladder-blown,
Their riches, and euen those delicious Dames,
That feast their blood with such enchanted flames?
For haue not yet thy wits the difference found,
Betwixt a feu'rie mans thirst, and one sound?
He hauing drunke is pleasd: the other lies
Fretting and lothing, vomits out his eyes:
His drinke to choler turnes, and ten parts more
His vicious heate inflames him, then before.
82

So while the long fit of his drie desire
Lasts in a rich man, such insatiate fire
He feeles within him. While the like fit lasts
In one ambitious, so he thirsts, and wasts.
While the fit lasts, and lust hath any fewell;
So fares the fond venerean with his iewell
There being linkt to euery one of these
Feares, emulations, sleeplesse Ielosies,
Foule cogitations, foule words, fouler deeds.
Enough be that then, that may serue thy needs,
What thou canst keepe in thy free powre alone,
Others affect, and thou reiect'st thine owne.
Both will not draw in one yoke: one release
And th'other vse, or neither keepe in peace
Twixt both distracted. Things within thee prise:
Onely within, thy helpe and ruine lies.
What wall so fencefull? what possession
So constant, and so properly our owne?
What dignitie so expert of deceipts?
All trade-like beggarly, and full of sleights.
On which who sets his mind, is sure to grieue,
Feed on faint hopes, neuer his ends atcheeue,
Fall into that he shuns, and neuer rest,
But bad esteeme his state, when tis at best.
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Serue but thy mind with obiects fit for her,
And for things outward thou shalt neuer care.
Obtaine but her true, and particular vse
And obtaine all things Nor let doubt, abuse
Thy will to winne her, as being coy enclind,
Nought is so pliant as a humane mind.
And what shall I obtaine, obtaining her,
Not wishing all, but some particular?
What wouldst thou wish for her dowre more then these?
To make thee pleasant, of one hard to please?
To make thee modest, of one impudent;
Temperate, and chast, of one incontinent:
Faithfull, being faithlesse. Fit not these thy will?
Affect'st thou greater? What thou dost, do still:
I giue thee ouer, doing all I can,
Th' art past recure, with all that God giues man.

To yong imaginaries in knowledge.

Neuer for common signes, dispraise or praise,
Nor art, nor want of art, for what he saies
Ascribe to any. Men may both waies make
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In forme, & speech, a mans quicke doome mistake.
All then that stand in any ranke of Art,
Certaine decrees haue, how they shall impart
That which is in them: which decrees, because
They are within men, making there the lawes
To all their actions, hardly shew without:
And till their ensignes are displaid, make doubt
To go against or with them: nor will they
So well in words as in their deeds display.
Decrees are not degrees. If thou shalt giue
Titles of learning, to such men as liue
Like rude Plebeians, since they haue degrees,
Thou shalt do like Plebeians. He that sees
A man held learn'd do rudely, rather may
Take for that deed, his learned name away,
Then giu't him for his name. True learnings act,
And speciall obiect is, so to compact
The will, and euery actiue powre in man,
That more then men illiterate, he can
Keepe all his actions in the narrow way
To God and goodnesse, and there force their stay
As in charm'd circles. Termes, tongs, reading, all
That can within a man, cald learned, fall;
Whose life is led yet like an ignorant mans:
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Are but as tooles to goutie Artizans,
That cannot vse them; or like childrens arts,
That out of habite, and by rootes of hearts,
Construe and perce their lessons, yet discerne
Nought of the matter, whose good words they learn:
Or like our Chimicke Magi, that can call
All termes of Art out, but no gold at all:
And so are learn'd like them, of whom, none knows
His Arts cleare truth, but are meere Ciniflos.
But sacred learning, men so much prophane,
That when they see a learn'd-accounted man
Liue like a brute man; they will neuer take
His learn'd name from him, for opinions sake:
But on that false gound brutishly conclude,
That learning profites not. You beastly rude,
Know, it mores profites, being exact and true,
Then all earths high waies chokt with herds of you.
But must degrees, & termes, and time in schooles,
Needs make men learn'd, in life being worse then fooles?
What other Art liues in so happy aire,
That onely for his habite, and his haire,
His false professors worth you will commend?
Are there not precepts, matter, and an end
To euery science? which, not kept, nor showne
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By vnderstanding; vnderstanding knowne
By fact; the end, by things to th'end directed,
What hap, or hope haue they to be protected?
Yet find such, greatest friends: and such professe
Most learning, and will preasse for most accesse
Into her presence, and her priuiest state,
When they haue hardly knockt yet at her gate.
Externall circumscription neuer serues
To proue vs men: blood, flesh, nor bones nor nerues
But that which all these vseth, and doth guide:
Gods image in a soule eternifide,
Which he that shewes not in such acts as tend
To that eternesse, making that their end:
In this world nothing knowes, nor after can,
But is more any creature then a man.
This rather were the way, if thou wouldst be,
A true proficient in philosophie:
Dissemble what thou studiest, till alone
By thy impartiall consention
Thou prou'st thee fit, to do as to professe.
And if thou still professe it not, what lesse
Is thy philosophie, if in thy deeds
Rather then signes, and shadowes, it proceedes?
Shew with what temper thou dost drinke, and eate:
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How farre from wrong thy deeds are, angers heate;
How thou sustainst, and abstainst; how farre gone
In appetite and auersation:
To what account thou doest affections call,
Both naturall, and aduentitiall:
That thou art faithfull, pious, humble, kind,
Enemie to enuie: of a chearefull mind,
Constant, and dantlesse. All this when men see
Done with the learnedst, then let censure thee;
But if so dull, and blind of soule they are,
Not to acknowledge heauenly Mulciber,
To be a famous Artist by his deeds,
But they must see him in his working weeds:
What ill is it, if thou art neuer knowne
To men so poore of apprehension?
Are they within thee, or so much with thee
As thou thy selfe art? Can their dull eyes see
Thy thoughts at worke? Or how like one thats sworn
To thy destruction, all thy powres are borne
T'entrap thy selfe? whom thou dost hardlier please
Then thou canst them? Arme then thy mind wt these:
I haue decrees set downe twixt me and God;
I know his precepts, I will beare his lode,
But what men throw vpon me, I reiect:
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No man shall let the freedome I elect;
I haue an owner that will challenge me,
Strong to defend, enough to satisfie:
The rod of Mercurie, will charme all these,
And make them neither strange, nor hard to please.
And these decrees, in houses constitute
Friendship, and loue: in fields cause store of fruite:
In cities, riches; and in temples zeale:
And all the world would make one commonweale.
Shun braggart glorie, seeke no place, no name:
No shewes, no company, no laughing game,
No fashion: nor no champion of thy praise,
As children sweete meates loue, and holidaies:
Be knowing shamefastnesse, thy grace, and guard,
As others are with dores, wals, porters bard.
Liue close awhile; so fruits grow, so their seed
Must in the earth a little time lie hid;
Spring by degrees, and so be ripe at last.
But if the Eare, be to the blades top past
Before the ioynt amidst the blade, be knit,
The corne is lanke, and no Sunne ripens it.
Like which art thou yong Nouice; florishing
Before thy time, winter shall burne thy spring.
The husbandman dislikes his fields faire birth,
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When timelesse heate beates on vnreadie earth,
Grieues lest his fruits with aire should be too bold,
And not endure the likely-coming cold.
Comfort the roote then first, then let appeare
The blades ioynt knit, and then produce the Eare:
So Natures selfe, thou shalt constraine, and be
Blest with a wealthy crop in spite of thee.

Of Constancie in goodnesse.

Who feares disgrace for things wel done, ye knows it?
Wrong euer does most harme to him that does it,
Who more ioy takes, that men his good aduance,
Then in the good it selfe, does it by chance:
That being the worke of others; this his owne.
In all these actions therefore that are common,
Men neuer should for praise or dispraise care,
But looke to the Decrees, from whence they are.

Of Learning.

Learning, the Art is of good life: they then
That leade not good liues, are not learned men.
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For ill successe.

If thou sustainst in any sort an ill,
Beare some good with thee to change for it still.

Of negligence.

When thou letst loose thy mind to obiects vain
Tis not in thee to call her backe againe:
And therefore when thy pleasure in her good
Droopes, and would downe in melancholy blood,
Feed her alacritie with any thought
Or word, that euer her recomfort wrought.

Of iniurie.

When thou art wrong'd, see if the wrong proceed
From fault within thy iudgement, word or deed:
If not, let him beware that iniures thee,
And all that sooth him; and be thy state free.

Of Attire.

Inhabite, nor in any ill to th'eie,
Affright the vulgar from Philosophie:
But as in lookes, words, workes, men witnesse thee
Comely and checklesse, so in habite be.
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For if a man shall shew me one commended
For wit, skill, iudgement, neuer so extended,
That goes fantastically, and doth fit
The vulgar fashion; neuer thinke his wit
Is of a sound peece, but hath bracks in it.
If slouenly and nastily in weeds
Thou keep'st thy body, such must be thy deeds,
Hence, to the desart, which thou well deseru'st,
And now no more for mans societie seru'st.
Externall want to this height doth expresse
Both inward negligence, and rottennesse.

FRAGMENTS.

Of Circumspection.

In hope to scape the law, do nought amisse,
The penance euer in the action is.

Of Sufferance.

It argues more powre willingly to yeeld
To what by no repulse can be repeld,
Then to be victor of the greatest state,
We can with any fortune subiugate.
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Of the Soule.

The Soule serues with her functions to excite,
Abhorre, prepare, and order appetite,
Cause auersation, and susception:
In all which, all her ill is built vpon
Ill receiu'd iudgements; which reforme with good;
And as with ill she yeelded to thy blood,
And made thy pleasures, God and man displease,
She will as well set both their powres at peace,
With righteous habits, and delight thee more
With doing good now, then with ill before.

Of great men.

When Homer made Achilles passionate,
Wrathfull, reuengefull, and insatiate
In his affections; what man will denie
He did compose all that of industrie?
To let men see, that men of most renowne,
Strong'st, noblest, fairest, if they set not downe
Decrees within them, for disposing these,
Of iudgement, resolution, vprightnesse.
And vertuous knowledge of their vse and ends,
Mishaps and miserie, no lesse extends
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To their destruction, with all that they prisde,
Then to the poorest, and the most despisde.

Of learned men.

Who knows not truth, knows nothīg; who what's best
Knowes not, not truth knowes. Who (alone profest
In that which best is) liues bad: Best not knowes,
Since with that Best and Truth, such ioy still goes,
That he that finds them, cannot but dispose
His whole life to them. Seruile Auarice can
Prophane no liberall-knowledge-coueting man.
Such hypocrites, opinion onely haue,
Without the minds vse: which doth more depraue
Their knowing powres, then if they nought did know.
For if with all the sciences they flow,
Not hauing that, that such ioy brings withall,
As cannot in vnlearn'd mens courses fall:
As with a tempest they are rapt past hope
Of knowing Truth, because they thinke his scope
Is in their tongues, much reading, speech profuse,
Since they are meanes to Truth in their true vse:
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But tis a fashion for the damned crue,
One thing to praise, another to pursue:
As those learn'd men do, that in words preferre
Heauen and good life, yet in their liues so erre,
That all heauen is not broade enough for them
To hit or aime at, but the vulgar streame
Hurries them headlong with it: and no more
They know or shall know, then the rudest Bore.
 

Si absit scientia optimi, nihil scitur.

Qui opinioni absque mente, consenserint.

Prodest multis non nosse quicquā.

Nonne meritó, multa tempestate iactabitur?

Absurdam alia laudare, alia sequi.

FINIS.
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