Divine Fancies :: :: University of Virginia Library

Glorious and Great; whose power did divide
The Waves, and made them Walls on either side;
That didst appeare in Cloven-tongues of Fyre;
Divide my Thoughts: and, with thy selfe, inspire
My Soule; O cleave my Tongue, and make it scatter
Various Expressions in a various Matter;
That, like the painfull Bee, I may derive
From sundry Flow'rs, to store my slender Hive:
Yet, may my Thoughts not so divided be,
But they may mixe againe, and fixe in Thee.

[The first Booke.]

1. On the Musique of Organs.

Observe this Organ: Marke but how it goes:
'Tis not the hand of him alone, that blowes
The unseene Bellowes; nor the Hand that playes
Vpon th'apparent note-dividing Kayes,

That makes these wel-composed Ayres appeare
Before the high Tribunall of thine eare:
They both concurre: Ech acts his severall part:
Th'one gives it Breath; the other lends it Art.
Man is this Organ: To whose every action
Heav'n gives a Breath (a Breath without coaction)
Without which Blast we cannot act at all;
Without which Breath, the Vniverse must fall
To the first Nothing it was made of: seeing
In Him we live, we move, we have our Being:
Thus fill'd with his Diviner Breath, and back't
With his first powre we touch the Kayes and act:
He blowes the Bellowes: As we thrive to skill,
Our Actions prove like Musicke, Good or Ill.

2. On the contingencie of Actions.

I saw him dead; I saw his Body fall
Before Deaths Dart; whom tears must not recall:
Yet is he not so dead, but that his Day
Might have been lengthen'd, had th'untrodden way
To life beene found: He might have rose agin,
If something had, or somthing had not bin:
What mine sees past, Heav'ns eye foresaw to come;
He saw, how that contingent Act should summe
The totall of his Dayes: His knowing Eye
(As mine doth see him dead) saw he should die
That very fatall howre; yet saw his death,
Not so so necessary, but his Breath

Might beene enlarg'd unto a longer date,
Had he neglected This, or taken That:
All times to Heav'n are now, both first and last;
He sees things present, as we see them past.

3. On the Sacraments.

The Loaves of Bread were five; the Fishes, two,
Whereof the Multitude was made partaker.
Who made the Fishes? God: But tell me, who
Gave being to the Loaues of Bread? the Baker:
Ev'n so these Sacraments, which some call seaven,
Five were ordain'd by Man, and two, by Heaven.

4. On the Infancie of our Saviour.

Hayle blessed Virgin, full of heavenly Grace,
Blest above all that sprang from humane race;
Whose Heav'n-saluted Womb brought forth in One,
A blessed Saviour, and a blessed Son:
O! what a ravishment t'had beene, to see
Thy little Saviour perking on thy Knee!
To see him nuzzle in thy Virgin Brest!
His milke white body all unclad, undrest;
To see thy busie Fingers cloathe and wrappe
His spradling Limbs in thy indulgent Lappe!
To see his desprate Eyes, with Childish grace,
Smiling upon his smiling Mothers face!

And, when his forward strength began to bloome,
To see him diddle up and downe the Roome!
O, who would thinke, so sweet a Babe as this,
Should ere be slaine by a false-hearted kisse!
Had I a Ragge, if sure thy Body wore it,
Pardon sweet Babe, I thinke I should adore it,
Till then, O grant this Boone, (a boone far dearer)
The Weed not being, I may adore the Wearer.

5. On Iudas Iscariot .

We raile at Iudas, him that did betray
The Lord of life; yet doe it day by day.

6. On the life and death of Man.

The World's a Theater; The Earth, a Stage
Plac'd in the midst; wheron both Prince & Page,
Both rich and poore; foole, wiseman; base, and high;
All act their Parts in Lifes short Tragedy:
Our Life's a Tragedy: Those secret Roomes
Wherein we tyre us, are our Mothers Wombes;
The Musicke ush'ring in the Play, is Mirth
To see a Manchild brought upon the Earth:
That fainting gaspe of Breath which first we vent
Is a Dumb-Shew, presents the Argument:
Our new-born Cries that new-born Griefes bewray,
Is the sad Prologue of th'ensuing Play:

False hopes, true feares, vaine ioyes, and fierce distracts
Are like the Musicke that divides the Acts:
Time holds the Glasse, and when the Hower's run,
Death strikes the Epilogue; and the Play is done.

7. On the Seaven liberall Sciences of a Christian.

Grammer.

It is an Art, that teaches not t'excell
In Writing, Speaking, as in Doing well.

Logicke.

[illeg.] Art sometimes of Plotting treason
[illeg.] the Crowne and Dignity of Reason.

Rhetoricke.

It is an Art, whereby he learnes t'encrease
His knowledge of the time, to Hold his peace.

Arithmeticke.

It is an Art, that makes him apt to raise
And number out Gods Blessings, and his Dayes.

Musicke.

It is a potent Science, that infringes
Strong Prison dores, and heaves them from their hinges.

Astronomie.

It is an Art of taking out the Lead
From his dull Browes, and lifting up the Head.

Geometrie.

It is an Art, instructs him how to have
The World in scorne; and measure out his Grave.

8. Christs foure houses.

His first house was the blessed Virgins Wombe;
The next, a Cratch; the third, a Cross; the fourth a Tombe.

9. Of Light and Heate.

Mark but the Sun-beames, when they shine most bright,
They lend this lower world both heat & light:
They both are Children of the selfe same Mother,
Twinnes; not subsisting one without the other;
They both conspire unto the Common good,
When, in their proper places, understood:
Is't not rebellion against Sense to say,
Light helps to quicken: Or, the Beames of day
May lend a Heat, and yet no Light at all?
'Tis true, some obvious Shade may chance to fall
Vpon the quickned Plant, yet not so great,
To quench the operation of the Heate:

The Heate cannot be parted from the Light,
Nor yet the Light from Heate; They neither might
Be mingled in the Act, nor found asunder:
Distinguish now fond man; or stay and wonder: Know then;
Their vertues differ though themselves agree;
Heat vivifyes; Light gives man powre to see
The thing so vivifyed: No Light, no Heate;
And where the heat's but small the light's not great:
They are inseparable, and sworne Lovers,
Yet differing thus; That quickens; This discovers:
Within these lines a sacred Myst'ry lurkes:
The Heat resembles Faith: the Light, Good-workes.

10. On Iudas Iscariot .

Some curse that traytour Iudas life and lim;
God knows, some curse thēselves, in cursing him.

11. On the possession of the Swine.

When as our blessed Saviour did un devill
The Man possest, the Spirits in conclusion,
Entred the Swine (being active still in evill)
And drove them headlong to their owne confusion,
Drunkards, beware, and be advised then,
They'l find you as y'are Swine; if not, as Men.

12. On a Sun-Dyall.

This Horizontall Dyall can bewray,
To the sad Pilgrim, th'hower of the Day:
But if the Sun appeare not his Adviser,
His eye may looke, yet he prove ne're the wiser:
Alas, alas; there's nothing can appeare,
But onely Types, and shadow'd Figures there:
This Dyall is the Scripture; and the Sun,
Gods holy Spirit; Wee, the Lookers on:
Alas, that sacred Letter, which we read,
Without the Quickning of the Spirit's dead:
The knowledge of our Peace improves no better,
Then if our Eye had not beheld a Letter:
I, but this glorious Sun shines alwayes bright:
I, but we often stand in our owne light:
Vse then the day, for when the day is gon,
There will be darkenes: there will be no Sun.

13. On the three Christian Graces.

Faith.

It is a Grace, that teaches to deprave not
The Goods we have; To have the goods we have not.

Hope.

It is a Grace, that keeps th'Almighty blamelesse,
In long delay: And men (in begging) shamelesse.

Charitie.

It is a Grace, or Art to get a Living
By selling Land; and to grow rich, by giving.

14. On a Feast.

The Lord of Heav'n and Earth ha's made a Feast,
And ev'ry Soule is an invited Guest:
The Word's the Food; the Levits are the Cookes;
The Fathers Writings are their Dyet-Bookes;
But seldome us'd; for 'tis a fashion growne,
To recommend made Dishes of their owne:
What they should boyle, they bake; what rost, they broyle,
Their lushious Sallats are too sweet with Oyle:
In briefe, 'tis now a dayes too great a fault,
Th'ave too much Pepper, and too little Salt.

15. On Dives.

That drop-requesting Dives did desire
His Brothers might have warning of that Fire,
Whose flames he felt: Could he, a Fiend, wish well
To Man? What, is there Charity in Hell?
Each Soule that's damned is a Brand of fire,
To make Hell so much hotter; And the nigher
In blood or love they be, that are tormented,
The more their paines & torments are augmented:

No wonder then, if Dives did desire,
His Brothers might have warning of that Fire.

16. On outward shew.

Ivdge not that Feild, because 'tis Stubble,
Nor Him that's poore, and full of trouble:
Though t'one looke bare; the tother thin;
Iudge not; Their Treasure is within.

17. On the reading of the Scriptures.

In reading of the Sacred Writt, beware,
Thou climbe no Stile, when as a Gapp stands faire.

18. On the life of Man.

Ovr Life's the Modell of a Winters Day;
Our Soule's the Sun, whose faint and feeble Ray
Gives our Earth light; a light but weak, at strongest,
But low, at highest; very short, at longest:
The childish Teares, that from our eyes doe passe,
Is like the Dew that pearls the morning grasse:
When as our Sun is but an hower high,
We goe to Schoole, to learne; are whip't, and cry:
We truant up and downe; we make a spoyle
Of precious Time, and sport in our owne Toyle:

Our Bed's the quiet Graue; wherein we lay
Our weary Bodyes, tyred with the Day:
The early Trumpet, like the Morning Bell,
Calls to account; where they that have learnd well
Shall find Reward; And such as have mis-spent
Their Time, shall reape an earned punishment:
No wonder, then, to see the Sluggards eyes,
So loath to goe to Bed; so loth to rise.

19. On the Crowing of a Cocke.

The Crowing of a Cocke doth oft foreshow
A change of Weather: Peter found it so:
The Cocke no sooner crew, but by and by
He found a Change of weather in his Eye:
T's an easie thing to say, and to sweare too,
Wee'l dye for Christ; but tis as hard to doe.

20. On Mammon.

Mammon's growne rich: Does Mammon boast of that?
The Stalled Oxe, as well may boast, Hee's fat.

21. On Church-contemners.

Those Church-contemners, that can easly waigh
The profit of a Sermon with a Play;

Whose testy stomacks can digest, as well,
A profer'd Iniury, as a Sermon-bell;
That say vnwonted Pray'rs, with the like wills,
As queazy Patients take their loathed Pills:
To what extremity would they be driven,
If God, in Iudgement, shold but give them Heauen.

22. On Morus.

He is no Flemming; For he cannot swill:
No Roman; for his stomacke's fleshly still:
He cannot be a Iew; he was baptiz'd:
Nor yet a Gentile; he was circumciz'd:
He is no True man; for he lyes a trot:
Prophane he is not; for he sweares ye not:
What is he then? One Feast without a Bill
Shall make him all; or which of all yee will.

23. On the Hypocrite.

No mans condition is so base as his;
None more accurs'd than he: For Man esteems
Him hatefull, cause he seemes not what hee is:
God hates him, 'cause he is not what he seemes;
What griefe is absent, or what mischiefe can
Be added to the hate of God and Man?

24. On a Pilgrime.

The weary Pilgrime, oft, doth aske, and know,
How farre hee's come; how far he has to goe:
His way is tedious, and his hart's oppprest,
And his desier is to be at Rest;
Our life's a Wayfare; yet fond Man delaies
T'enquier out the number of his Daies;
He cares not, Hee, how slow his howers spend;
His Iourney's better then his Iourneies end.

25. On the Needle of a Sun-diall.

Behold this needle; when the Arctick stone
Hath toucht it, how it trembles vp and downe;
Hunts for the Pole; and cannot be possest,
Of peace, vntill it finde that poynt, that rest:
Such is the heart of Man; which, when it hath
Attayn'd the virtue of a lively faith,
It findes no rest on earth, makes no abode
In any Obiect, but his heav'n, his God.

26. On Affliction.

When thou afflict'st me, Lord, if I repine,
I show my selfe to be mine owne, not thine.

27. On a Sun-dyall.

Goe light a Candle: By that light, make tryall,
How the night spends it selfe, by the Sun-dyall:
Goe, search the Scripture; Labour to encrease
In the diviner knowledge of thy Peace
By thy owne light, derived from thy mother:
Thou maist as eas'ly doe the one, as t'other.

28. On Peter .

When walking Peter was about to sinck
Into the sea; In what a case d'ye thinke,
H'ad bin; if he had trusted his complaint
To th'intercession of some helpfull Saint?
Beleeve it; if Romes doctrine had bin sound,
And soundly follow'd, Peter had bin drown'd.

29. On Merits.

Fie, Rome's abus'd: Can any be thought able
To merit heaven by workes? Tis a meere fable:
If so; stout Rome had never bin so faint
To move her suit by a Collaterall Saint.

30. On Servio .

Servio serves God: Servio has bare relation.
(Not to Gods Glory) but his owne salvation:
Servio serves God for life: Servio, tis well:
Servio may finde the cooler place in Hell.

31. A Soliloquie.

[Where shall I find my God! O where, O where]

Where shall I find my God! O where, O where
Shall I direct my steps, to finde him there?
Shall I make search in swelling Baggs of Coyne?
Ah no; For God and Mammon cannot ioyne:
Doe Beds of Down containe this heavenly stranger?
No no; Hee's rather cradled in some Manger:
Dwells he in wisedome? Is he gone that rode?
No no; Mans wisedome's foolishnes with God:
Or hath some new Plantation, yet vnkowne,
Made him their King, and adorn'd him with their Crown?

No, no, the kingdomes of the earth thinke scorne
T'adorne his Browes with any Crown but Thorn.
Wher shall I trace; or wher shal I goe winde him?
My Lord is gone; and O! I cannot finde him:
Ile ransack the dark Dungeons: Ile enquire
Into the Furnace, after the sev'nth fire:
Ile seeke in Daniels Den, and in Pauls prison;
Ile search his Grave, and see if he be risen:
Ile goe to th'house of mourning; and Ile call
At every Almes-abused Hospitall:
Ile goe and ask the widow, tha'ts opprest;
The heavy laden, that enquiers rest:
Ile search the Corners of all broken hearts;
The wounded Conscience, and the soule that smarts;
The contrite spirit fill'd with filiall feare;
I, there he is; and no where else, but there:
Spare not to scourge thy pleasure, O my God,
So I may finde thy presence, with thy Rod.

32. On Daniel in the Den.

Fierce Lyons roaring for their prey? and then
Daniel throwne in? And Daniel yet remaine
Alive? There was a Lyon, in the Denne,
Was Daniels friend, or Daniel had bin slaine:
Among ten thousand Lyons, Ide not feare,
Had I but only Daniels Lyon there.

23. On those that deserve it.

O when our Clergie, at the dreadfull Day,
Shal make their Audit; when the Iudge shal say
Give your acompts: What, have my Lambs bin sed?
Say, doe they all stand sound? Is there none dead
By your defaults? come shephards, bring them forth
That I may crowne your labours in their worth:
O what an answer will be given by some,
We have bin silenc'd: Canons strucke vs dumbe;
The Great ones would not let vs feed thy flock,
Vnles we plai'd the fooles, and wore a Frock:
We were forbid vnles wee'd yeeld to signe
And crosse their browes, They say, a mark of thine.
To say the truth, great Iudg, they were not fed,
Lord, here they be; but, Lord, they be all dead:
Ah cruel Shepheards! Could your conscience serve
Not to be fooles, and yet to let them sterve?
What if your Fiery spirits had bin bound
To Antick Habits; or your heads bin crownd
With Peacocks Plumes; had yee bin forc'd to feed
Your Saviours dear-bought Flock in a fools weed;
He that was scorn'd, revil'd; endur'd the Curse
Of a base death, in your behalfs; nay worse,
Swallow'd the cup of wrath charg'd vp to th'brim,
Durst yee not stoope to play the fooles for him?

34. Doe this and live.

Doe this and live? Tis true, Great God; then who
Can hope for life? for who hath power to Doe?
Art thou not able? Is thy Task too great?
Canst thou desier help? Canst thou intreat
Aid from a stronger Arm? Canst thou conceive
Thy Helper strong enough? Canst thou beleeve,
The suffrings of thy dying Lord can give
Thy drooping shoulders rest? Doe this and live.

35. On Ioseph and his Mistris.

When as th'Egyptian Lady did invite
Wel-favor'd Ioseph to unchast delight,
How well the motion and the place agreed?
A beastly Place, and twas a beastly Deed:
A place well season'd for so soule a sin;
Too sweet to serve so foule a Master in.

36. On Scriptum est.

Some words excell in virtue, and discover
A rare conclusion, thrice repeated over:
Our Saviour thrice was tempted: thrice represt
Th'assaulting tempter with thrice Scriptvm Est:
If thou would'st keepe thy soule secure from harm,
Thou know'st the words: It is a potent Charme.

37. On the flourishing of the Gospell.

How doe our Pastures flourish, and refresh
Our uberous Kine, so faire, so full of flesh!
How doe our thriving Cattell feed our young
With plenteous Milk; & with their flesh the strong!
Heav'n blest our Charles, and he did our late Iames,
From Pharohs troubles, and from Pharohs Dreames.

38. On Ioseph's Speech to his Brethren.

Goe, fetch your Brother (said th'Egyptian Lord)
If you intend our Garniers shall afford
Your craving wants their so desir'd supplies;
If He come not, by Pharoes life, y'are Spies:
Ev'n as your Suits expect to find our Grace,
Bring him; or dare not to behold my face:
Some little food, to serve you on the way,
We here allow, but not to feed delay;
When you present your Brother to our Hand,
Ye shall have plenty, and possesse the Land;
Away; and let your quicke obedience give
The earnest of your Faiths; Do this and live:
If not; your wilfull wants must want supply,
For ye are Spies, and ye shall surely dye:
Great God, th'Egyptian Lord resembles Thee;
The Brother's Iesus; and the Suitors Wee.

39. Of common Devotion.

Ovr God and Souldiers we alike adore,
Ev'n at the Brink of danger; not before:
After deliverance, both alike requited;
Our God's forgotten, and our Souldier's slighted.

40. On the Day of Iudgement.

O when shal that time come, whē the loud Trump
Shall wake my sleeping Ashes from the Dump
Of their sad Vrne! That blessed Day, wherein
My glorifi'd, my metamorphiz'd Skin
Shall circumplexe and terminate that fresh
And new refined substance of this flesh!
When my transparent Flesh, dischargd frō groanes,
And paynes, shall hang upon new polisht Bones!
When as my Body shall re-entertaine
Her clensed Soule, and never part againe!
When as my Soule shall, by a new Indenture,
Possesse her new-built house, come down and enter!
When as my Body and my Soule shall plight
Inviolable faith, and never fight
Nor wrangle more, nor altercate, agin,
About that strife-begetting question, Sin!
When Soule and Body shall receive their Doome
Of O yee Blessed of my Father, Come!
When Death shall be exil'd and damn'd to dwell
Within her proper and true Center, Hell!

Where that old Tempter shal be bound in Chaynes,
And over-whelm'd with everlasting paynes;
Whilst I shall sit, and, in full Glory, sing
Perpetuall Anthems to my Iudge, my King.

41. On Death.

Why should we not, as well, defier Death,
As Sleep? No diffrence, but a little Breath:
'Tis all but Rest; 'tis all but a Releasing
Our tyred lims; Why then not alike pleasing?
Being burthen'd with the sorrowes of the Day,
We wish for night; which, being come, we lay
Our Bodies downe; yet when our very Breath
Is yrk some to vs, w'are affraid of Death:
Our Sleepe is oft accompanied with Frights,
Distracting Dreames and dangers of the nights;
When in the Sheets of Death, our Bodie's sure
From all such Evils, and we sleepe secure:
What matter, Doune, or Earth? what boots it whether?
Alas, Our Bodye's sensible of neither:
Things that are senslesse, feele nor paynes nor ease;
Tell me; and why not Wormes as well as Fleas?
In Sleepe, we know not whether our clos'd eyes
Shall ever wake; from Death w'are sure to rise:
I, but 'tis long first: O, is that our feares?
Dare we trust God for Nights? and not for Yeares?

42. On the Body of Man.

Mans Body's like a House: His greater Bones,
Are the maine Timber; And the lesser Ones,
Are smaller Splints: His Ribs are Laths, daubd ore,
Plaister'd with flesh & bloud: his Mouths the Doore:
His Throat's the narrow Entry: And his Heart
Is the Great Chamber, full of curious Art:
His Midreife, is a large partition Wall,
'Twixt the Great Chamber, and the spacious Hall:
His Stomacke is the Kitchin, where the Meate
Is often but halfe sod, for want of Heate:
His Spleen's a Vessell, Nature does allott
To take the skimme, that rises from the Pott:
His Lungs are like the Bellowes that respire
In ev'ry office, quickning ev'ry Fire:
His Nose, the Chimney is, whereby are vented
Such Fumes, as with the Bellowes are augmented:
His Bowels are the Sinke, whose part's to dreine
All noysome filth, and keepe the Kitchin cleane:
His Eyes like Christall Windowes cleare and bright
Lets in the Obiect, and lets out the sight:
And as the Timber is, or great or small,
Or strong or weake; 'tis apt to stand, or fall:
Yet is the likelyest Building sometimes knowne,
To fall by obvious Chances; Overthrowne,
Oft-times by Tempests, by the full mouth'd Blasts
Of Heav'n; Somtimes by Fire; Somtimes it wasts
Through unadvis'd neglect: Put case, the Stuffe
Were ruin-proofe; by nature, strong enough,

To conquer Time and Age: Put case, it should
Ne're know an end, Alas, Our Leases would:
What hast thou then, proud flesh and bloud, to boast?
Thy Dayes are ev'll, at best; but few, at most;
But sad, at merryest; and but weake, at strongest;
Vnsure, at surest; and but short, at longest.

43. On the Young man in the Gospell.

How well our Saviour and the landed Youtk
Agreed a little while? And, to say truth,
Had he had will and power in his hand,
To keepe the Law, but as He kept his Land;
No doubt, his soule has found the sweet fruition
Of his owne choyce desires without Petition:
But he must Sell, and Follow; or else, not
Obtaine his heav'n: O now his heav'ns too hot:
He cannot stay; He has no businesse there:
Hee'l rather misse, then buy his heav'n too deare:
When Broth's too hot for hasty hounds, how they
Will licke their scalded lips, and sneake away!

44. On Mans goodnesse and Gods love.

God loves not Man, because that Man is good;
For Man is sinfull, because Flesh and Blood:
We argue false: It rather may behove us,
To think us good, 'cause God thinks good to love us,
Hee that shall argue up from Man to God,
Takes but the paines to gather his owne Rod:

Who from such Premisses, shal drawe's Conclusion,
Makes but a Syllogisme of his owne confusion.

45. On Mans Plea.

Mans Plea to Man, is, That he never more
Will begge, and that he never begg'd before:
Mans Plea to God, is, That he did obtaine
A former Suit, and therefore sues againe.
How good a God we serue; that when we sue,
Makes his old gifts th'examples of his new!

46. On Furio .

Fvrio will not forgive; Furio beware:
Furio will curse himselfe in the Lords Prayer.

47. On Martha and Mary .

Martha , with ioy, receiv'd her blessed Lord;
Her Lord she welcoms, feasts, and entertains:
Mary sate silent; heares, but speakes no word;
Martha takes all, and Mary takes no paines:
Mary's to heare; to feast him Martha's care is;
Now which is greater, Martha's love, or Mary's?

Martha is full of trouble, to prepare;
Martha respects his good beyond her owne:

Mary sits still at ease, and takes no care;
Mary desires to please her selfe, alone:
The pleasure's Maryes; Martha's all the care is;
Now which is greater, Martha's love, or Maryes?

Tis true; Our blessed Lord was Martha's Guest;
Mary was his; and, in his feast, delighted:
Now which hath greater reason to love best,
The bountifull Invitor, or th'invited?
Sure, both lou'd well; But Mary was the detter,
And therfore should, in reason, love the better:

Marye's was spirituall; Martha's love was carnall;
T'one kist his hand; The other, but the Glove:
As far as mortall is beneath eternall,
So far is Martha's lesse then Marye's love:
How blest is he, Great God, whose hart remembers
Marye's to Thee; and Martha's to thy Members!

48. On our Blessed Saviour.

We often read our blessed Saviour wept;
But never laught; and seldome that he slept:
Ah, sure his heavy eyes did wake, and weepe
For vs that sin, so oft, in Mirth, and Sleepe.

49. On Sinnes.

Sinnes , in respect of Man, all mortall be;
All veniall, Iesu, in respect of Thee.

50. On Mans behaviour to God.

We use our God, as Vs'rers doe their bands;
We often beare him in our hearts, our hands;
His Paths are beaten, and his Wayes are trod,
So long as hee's a profitable God:
But when the Money's paid, the Profit's taken,
Our Bands are cancel'd, and our God's forsaken.

51. On Mans Cruelty.

And dar'st thou venture still to live in Sin,
And crucifie thy dying Lord agin?
Were not his Pangs sufficient? must he bleed
Yet more? O, must our sinfull pleasures feed
Vpon his Torments; and augment the Story
Of the sad passion of the Lord of Glory!
Is there no pitty? Is there no remorse
In humane brests? Is there a firme divorse
Betwixt all mercy, and the hearts of Men?
Parted for ever? ne're to meet agen?
No mercy bides with us: 'Tis thou, alone,
Hast it, sweet Iesu, for us, that have none
For Thee: Thou hast fore-stal'd our Markets so,
That all's Above, and we have none Below:
Nay, blessed Lord, we have not wherewithall
To serve our shiftlesse selves, vnlesse we call
To thee, that art our Saviour, and hast power
To give, and whom we Crucifye, each hower:

W'are cruell (Lord) to thee, and our selves too;
Iesv forgive's; we know not what we doe.

52. Mans Progresse.

The Earth is that forbidden Tree that growes
Ith' midst of Paradise; Her Fruit that showes
So sweet, so faire, so pleasing to the eyes,
Is worldly pleasure in a faire disguize:
The Flesh suggests: The Fruit is faire and good
Apt to make wise, and a delicious Food;
It hath a secret vertue, wherewithall
To make you Gods; and not to dye at all.
Man tasts, and tempts the frailty of his Brother;
His Brother eats; One bit cals on another:
His guilty Conscience opes his eyes; He sees,
He sees his empty nakednesse, and flees;
Hee stitches slender Fig-leaves, and does frame
Poore Arguments t'excuse his Sin, his Shame:
But in the cooler evening of his Dayes,
The voyce calls Adam: Adam's in a Maze:
His Conscience bids him run: The voyce pursues;
Poore Adam trembles, ere hee knowes the newes:
Adam must quit the Garden, lest he strive
To tast the saving Tree of life, and live;
Poore Man must goe; But whether is he bound?
Ev'n to the place from whence he came, the Ground.

53. On the two great Flouds.

Two Flouds I read of; Water, and of Wine;
The first was Noahs; Lot, the last was thine:
The first was the Effect; The last, the Cause
Of that soule Sin, against the sacred Lawes
Of God and Nature, incest: Noah found
An Arke to save him, but poore Lot was drownd;
Good Noah found an Arke; but Lott found none:
W'are safer in Gods hands then in our owne:
The former flood of waters did extend
But some few dayes; this latter ha's no end;
They both destroy'd, I know not which the worst:
The last is ev'n as Gen'rall, as the first:
The first being ceas'd; the world began to fill;
The last depopulates, and wasts it still:
Both Flouds orewhelm'd both Man and beast together;
The last is worst, if there be best of either:
The first are ceas'd: Heav'n vow'd it by a Signe;
When shall we see a Raine bow after Wine?

54. On Fuca .

Fvca , thou quot'st the Scriptures on thy side,
And makst Rebecca patronize thy pride;
Thou sayst that she wore Ear-rings: Did she so?
Know this withall, She bore the Pitcher too:
Thou mayst, like her, weare Ear-rings, if thy pride
Can stoope to what, Rebecca did beside.

55. On Abrahams servant.

This faithfull Servant will not feed, vntill
He doe his trust-reposing Masters will:
There's many, now, that will not eat before
They speed their Masters work: They'l drink the more;

56. On Alexander.

No marvell, thou great Monarch, did'st complaine
And weep, ther were no other worlds to gaine;
Thy griefes and thy complaints were not amisse;
H'as Griefe enough, that findes no world but this.

57. On rash Iudgement.

Ivdge not too fast: This Tree that does appeare
So barren, may be fruitfull the next yeare:
Hast thou not patience to expect the Hower?
I feare thy owne are Crabs they be so sower:
Thy Iudgment oft may tread beside the Text;
A Saule to day, may prove a Paul, the next.

58. On Iacobs purchase.

How poore was Iacobs motion, and how strange
His Offer! How unequall was th'exchange!

A messe of Porrage for Inheritance?
Why could not hungry Esau strive t'enhaunce
His price a little? So much underfoot?
Well might he give him Bread and drink to boot:
An easie price! The case is even our owne;
For toyes we often fell our Heaven, our Crowne.

59. On Esau.

What hast thou done? Nay what shal Esau do?
Lost both his Birthright, and his Blessing too!
What hath poore Esau left, but empty teares,
And Plaints, that cannot reach the old mans eares?
What with thy Fathers Diet, and thine owne
Thy Birthright's aliend, an'd thy Blessing's gone:
How does one mischiefe ouertake an other?
In both, how overtaken by a Brother?
Could thy imperious stomack but have stay'd,
And if thy Fathers had not bin delay'd,
Thou had'st not need have wept and pleaded so,
But kept thy Birthright, and thy Blessing too:
Had thy vnprosp'rous, thy vnlucky hand
Dispatch'd thy Ven'zon, as it did thy Land,
Thy sorrowes had not made so great a Heape,
That had not bin so deare; nor this, so cheape:
Had thine given place but to thy Fathers will,
Thad'st had thy Birthright; and thy Blessing still.

60. On the absence of a blessing.

The blessing gon, what do's there now remaine?
Esau's offended; Iacob must be slaine:
The heart of Man once emptyed of a Grace,
How soone the Devill jostles in the place!

61. On the yonger Brother.

I know, the Elder and the Yonger, too;
Are both alike to God; Nor one, nor other
Can plead their yeares, But yet we often doe
Observe, the Blessing's on the yonger Brother:
The Scripture notes it, but does spare to show
A reason; therefore, I despaire to know.

62. On Kain.

Before that Monster spilt his Brothers blood,
w'are sure the fourth part of the world was good:
O, what a dearth of goodnes did there grow,
When the Fourth part was murd'red at a blow!

63. On the righteous man.

Promise is dett: And Dett implies a payment:
How can the righteous, then dout food, & raymēt?

63. On Faith, Love, and Charity.

By nature Faith is fiery, and it tends
Still upward: Love, by native course, descends:
But Charity, whose nature doth confound
And mixe the former two, moves ever round:
Lord, let thy Love descend, and then the Fire
Of sprightly Faith shall kindle, and aspire:
O, then, my circling Charity shall move
In proper motion, mixt of Faith and Love.

64. On Iacobs Pillow.

The Bed, was Earth: The raised Pillow, Stones,
Whereon poore Iacob rests his head, his Bones;
Heav'n was his Canopy; The Shades of night
Were his drawne Curtaines, to exclude the Light:
Poore State for Isacks heyre! It seemes to me,
His Cattell found as soft a Bed, as Hee:
Yet God appeared there, his Ioy, his Crowne;
God is not alway seene in Beds of Doune:
O, if that God shall please to make my Bed,
I care not where I rest my Bones, my Head;
With Thee, my wants can never prove extreame;
With Iacobs Pillow, give me Iacobs Dreame.

65. On Faith.

Faith do's acknowledge Gifts, altho we gave not;
It keeps vnseene those Sins, Confession hid not;
It make us to enioy the Goods we have not;
It counts as done, those pious deeds, we did not;
It workes; endowes; it freely 'accepts; it hides:
What Grace is absent where true Faith abides?

66. On Zacheus .

Me thinks, I see, with what a busie hast,
Zacheus climb'd the Tree: But, O, how fast
How full of speed, canst thou imagine (when
Our Saviour call'd) he powder'd downe agen!
He ne're made tryall if the boughes were sound,
Or rotten; nor how far 'twas to the ground:
There was no danger fear'd: At such a Call,
Hee'l venture nothing, that dare feare a fall:
Needs must he downe, by such a Spirit driven;
Nor could he fall, vnlesse he fell to Heaven:
Downe came Zacheus, ravisht from the Tree;
Bird that was shot, ne're dropt so quicke as he.

67. On the Thiefe and Slanderer.

The Theife, and Sland'rer are almost the same;
T'one steals my goods; the tother, my good name:
T'one lives in scorne; the other dies in shame.

68. On Abrams pleading for Sodome.

How loth was righteous Abraham to cease,
To beat the price of lustfull Sodoms peace!
Marke how his holy boldnesse intercepts
Gods Iustice; Brings his Mercy downe, by steps:
He dare not bid so few as Ten, at first;
Nor yet from Fifty righteous persons, durst
His Zeale on sudden make too great a fall,
Although he wisht salvation to them all.
Great God: Thy dying Son has pow'r to cleare
A world of Sinnes, that one shall not appeare
Before thine angry eyes: What wonder then,
To see thee fall, from Fifty downe to Ten!

69. On Mans goodnes.

Thy hand, great God, created all things good;
But Man rebell'd, and in defiance stood
Against his owne Creation, and did staine,
Nay lost that goodnesse which the Beasts retaine;
What hap ha's Man, poore Man, above the rest,
That hath lesse goodnes left him, then a Beast!

70. On Zacheus.

Short-legg'd Zacheus, 'Twas the happiest Tree
That ever mortall climb'd; I meane, to Thee:

Thy paynes in going up, receiv'd the Crowne
Of all thy labour, at thy comming downe:
Thy Statures lownesse gave thee faire occasion
To mount that Tree; that Tree, to find Salvation:
But was't the Tree, Zacheus? No, t'was Hee,
Whose bleeding Body dy'd upon the Tree.

71. On the Roman, Turke, and Atheist.

The Roman worships God upon the wall;
The Turke, a false God; Th'Atheist, none at all

72. On Babels Building.

Great God, no sooner borne, but we begin
Babels accurs'd Foundation, by our Sin:
Our thoughts, our words, our deeds are ever yeelding
The sad materials of our sinfull Building:
Should not thy Grace prevent it, it would even
Rise, and rise up, vntill it reach'd to heaven:
Lord, ere our Building shall begin to show,
Confound our Language, and our Building too.

73. On the Theife and the Lyer.

The Lyer and the Theife have one Vocation;
Their difference is but onely in their Fashion:
They both deceive; but diversly proceed;
The first deceives by Word; the last, by Deed.

74. On the Egyptians Famine.

Marke but the course the pin'de Egyptians run:
When all their coyn, when all their corn is done,
They come to Ioseph, and their stomacks plead;
They chāge their beasts for corn, their stocks for bread,
Yet still they want: Observe what now they doe;
They give their Lands, and yeeld their Bodyes too:
Now they have Corne enough; and now, they shall
Have seed to sowe their barren soile withall;
Prouided that the fift of their encrease
Be Pharoe's: Now their stomacks are at peace:
Thus when the Famine of the Word shall strike
Our hungry Soules; our Soules must doe the like:
We first must part with, (as by their directions)
Our Flocks, our Beasts, our Bestiall Affections;
When they are gone, what then must Sinners doe?
Give up their Lands, their Soules, and Bodies too:
O, then our hearts shall be refresht and fed,
Wee shall have seed to sowe, and present Bread:
Allowing but the fift of our encrease,
Wee shall have plenty, and our Soules have peace:
How art thou pleas'd, good God, that Man shold live!
How slow art thou to take! how free to give!

75. On Zacheus.

Well climb'd, Zacheus; 'Twas a step well given;
Frō hence to th'Tree; & frō the Tree to Heaven!

76. On the Plough-man.

I heare the whistling Plough-man, all day long,
Sweetning his labour with a chearefull song:
His Bed's a Pad of Straw; His dyet, course;
In both, he fares not better then his Horse:
He seldome slakes his thirst, but from the Pumpe,
And yet his heart is blithe; his visage, plumpe;
His thoughts are nere acquainted with such things,
As Griefes or Feares; He onely sweats, and sings:
When as the Landed Lord, that cannot dine
Without a Qualme, if not refresht with Wine;
That cannot iudge that controverted case,
'Twixt meat & mouth, without the Bribe of Sauce;
That claimes the service of the purest linnen,
To pamper and to shroud his dainty skin in,
Groanes out his dayes, in lab'ring to appease
The rage of either Buisnes, or Disease:
Alas, his silken Robes, his costly Diet
Can lend a little pleasure, but no Quiet:
The vntold summes of his descended wealth
Can give his Body plenty, but not Health:
The one, in Paynes, and want, possesses all;
T'other, in Plenty, finds no peace at all;
'Tis strange! And yet the cause is easly knowne;
Tone's at Gods finding; t'other, at his owne.

77. On a happy Kingdome.

That Kingdome, and none other, happy is,
Where Moses, and his Aron meet, and kisse.

78. On Gods appearance to Moses .

God first appeard to Moses, in the Myre;
The next time he appeard, h'appeard in Fire;
The third time, he was knowne to Moses eye
Vpon mount Sinai, cloath'd in Maiestie.
Thrice God appeares to Man: first, wallowing in
His foule Pollution, and base Myre of Sin;
And like to Pharoes daughter do'es bemone
Our helples State, and drawes us, for his owne:
The next time, he appeares in Fyre, whose bright
And gentle flames consume not, but give light;
It is the Fire of Grace; where man is bound
To d'off his Shooes, because 'tis holy ground:
The last apparance shall be in that Mount,
Where every Soule shall render an Account
Of good or evill; where all things Transitory
Shall cease; & Grace be crownd with perfect Glory.

79. On Gods Law.

Thy Sacred Law, O God,
Is like to Moses Rod:
If wee but keepe it in our hand,
It will doe Wonders in the Land;
If wee slight and throw it to the Ground;
'Twill turne a Serpent, and inflict a Wound;
A Wound that Flesh and Blood cannot endure,
Nor salve, untill the Brazen Serpent cure:
I wish not, Lord, thou sholdst withold it;
Nor wold I have it, and not hold it:
O teach me then, my God,
To handle Moses Rod.

80. On Pharoe's Bricke.

Ovr God's not like to Pharoh; to require
His tale of Bricke, and give no Straw for Fire:
His Workmen wanted Straw, and yet were lasht,
For not performance: We have Straw unthrasht,
Yet we are idle, and we winch, and kicke
Against our Burthens, and returne no Bricke:
We spend our Straw, for Litter in the Stable,
And then we cry; Alas, We are not able;
Thinke not on Israels suffrings, in that day,
When thy offended Iustice shall repay
Our labours; Lord, when thou upheav'st thy Rod,
Thinke, Pharoh was a Tyrant; Thou, a God.

81. On the insatiablenesse of Mans heart.

This Globe of earth ha's not the pow'r to fill
The Heart of Man, but it desiers still:
By him that seekes, the Cause is easly found;
The Heart's Triangular; The Earth is Round;
He may be full; but, never to the brim
Be fill'd with Earth, till earth be fill'd with him.

82. On Pharoe's hard-heartednes.

Plagues after Plagues? And yet not Pharoh yeeld
T'enlarge poore Israel? Was thy heart so steel'd,
Rebellious Tyrant, that it dare withstand
The oft repeated Iudgements of Heav'ns hand?
Could neither Mercies oyle, nor Iudgements thunder
Dissolve, nor breake thy flinty heart in sunder?
No, no, what Sun-beames soften not, they harden;
Purpos'd Rebellions are asleepe to Pardon.

83. On the change of Pharoe's fortunes.

Observe what peace great Pharo's kingdom found
while Ioseph liv'd; what prosprous blessings cround
His happy dayes! Heav'ns plague-inflicting hand
Was then a stranger to his peacefull Land:
Peace was entayl'd upon his Royall Throne;
His Land had Plenty, when the World had none;

His full desiers over-flowd their Brim,
Favours came downe unask't, unsought by Him:
His Scepter flourish'd, from a God unknowne,
No need to trouble any of his owne:
While Ioseph liv'd, his Blessings had no end;
That God was his, whilst he was Iosephs Frend:
These temp'rall Blessings heav'n doth, often, share
Vnto the wicked, at the Good-mans Prayer:
But Ioseph dyes: And Iosephs Sons must fall
Beneath their Burthens, and be scourg'd withall;
Whilst Tyrant Pharoh's more severer hand
Keeps them laborious Pris'ners in his Land:
God oft permits his Children to be hurld
Into distresse, to weane them from the world:
But Pharohs Blessings alter with his Brow;
The budding Scepter's turn'd a Serpent now:
His Land must groan; her plagues must stil encrease,
Till Iacobs Off-spring shall find Iacobs peace;
Gods Children are the Apples of his Eye,
Whose touch is death, if being toucht, they cry:
Now Tyrant Pharoh dares no longer chuse,
Israel must goe: Pharoh repents, pursues;
Pharoh wants Brick; Pharoh, ere long, I feare,
Will find the purchase of his Brick too deare:
Moses holds forth his Rod: The Seas divide;
The Waves are turn'd to Walls on either side:
They passe secure; Pharoh pursues them still:
God leaves his Children to the brunt of Ill:
The Chariot-Wheeles flye off, the Harnesse cracks;
One wants a Nayle; the next, a Hammer lacks:
How Man is cross'd and puzzel'd in that Plott,
Where Heav'n denyes successe, and prospers not!

Moses holds forth his Rod: The Easterne wind
Calls backe the Tydes: The parted Waters ioynd,
And overwhelmd great Pharo' and Pharoes Host;
Mohe scapd to tell the newes: All drownd, and lost:
Thus thrives Rebellion: Plagues not doing good,
Oft-times conclude their Ceremony' in Blood:
Thus hardned hearts grow more and more obdure;
And Heav'n cuts off, when Earth is most secure.

84. On the First borne.

The First-borne of th'Egyptians all were slaine,
From him that holds the Scepter to the Swayne:
But all that are First-borne in Israel, be
Accepted, Lord, and sanctifide to Thee:
Thy lookes are alwayes turn'd upon the Prime
Of all our Actions, Words, our thoughts, our time;
Thy pleased Eye is fixt upon the First;
And from the Womb w'are thine, or else accurst.

85. On baptized Infants.

I dare not iudge those Iudgements, ill advis'd,
That hold such Infants sav'd, as dye, baptiz'd:
What hinders Life? Originall hath bin
New washt away; There's yet, no Actuall Sin:
Death is th'Effect of Sin: The Cause being gon,
What ground is left for Death to worke vpon?
I know not: But of Israels sons, 'tis found,
Moses was sav'd; I read that none was drownd.

86. On the grumbling Israelites.

No sooner out, but grumble? Is the Brick
So soone forgotten? 'Tis a common trick:
Serve God in Plenty? Egypt can doe thus;
No thankes to serve our God, when God serves us:
Some sullen Curres, when they perceive a Bone,
Will wagg their Tayles and faune; But snarle, if none.

87. On Mans rebellion.

O, how perverse is Flesh and Blood! in whom
Rebellion blossomes from the very Wombe!
What Heav'n commands, how lame we are to do!
And things forbid how soone perswaded to!
We never read rebellious Israel did
Bow to strange Gods, till Israel was forbid.

88. On Israel.

Had Israel, in her want but truely humbled,
Isr'el had prayd, & grond to heav'n; not grumbled:
But Isr'el wanted food: Isr'els complaint
Could not be fervent, Isr'el being saint:
Isr'el gets food: Now Isr'el is so full,
That her Devotion, and her Zeale is dull:
Lord when art thou in season? When's the time,
To doe thee service? When's our Zeale in prime?

'Tis alwayes either not full ripe or wasting:
We can not serve our God nor Full nor Fasting.

89. On the Sinners Refuge.

He that shall shed, with a presumptuous hand,
The blood of Man; must, by thy iust command
Be put to death: The Murtherer must dye;
Thy Law denyes him refuge where to flye:
Great God our hands have slain a Man; nay further,
They have committed a presumptuous murther,
Vpon a guiltles Man; Nay, what is worse,
They have betraid our Brother to the Curse
Of a reproachfull death; Nay, what exceeds,
It is our Lord, our dying Saviour bleeds:
Nay more; It is thy Son; thy only Son;
All this have we, all this our hands have done:
On what deare Obiects shall we turne our eye?
Looke to the Law? O, by the Law, we dye:
Is there no Refuge, Lord? No place that shall
Secure our Soules from Death? Ah, none at all:
What shall poore Mortals do? Thy Lawes are just,
And most irrevocable: Shall we trust
Or flye to our owne Merits, and be freed
By our good Workes? I; there were helpe indeed!
Is there no City for a Soule to flye,
And save it selfe? Must we resolve to dye?
O Infinite! O (not to be exprest?)
Nay, not to be conceived by the brest
Of Men or Angels! O transcendent Love!
Incomprehensible! as farre above

The reach of Man, as mans deserts are under
The sacred Benefit of so blest a Wonder!
That very Blood our sinfull hands have shed,
Cryes loud for Mercy, and those Wounds do plead
For those that made them: he that pleads, forgives;
And is both God and Man; both dead, and lives:
He, whom we murther'd, is become our Guarden;
Hee's Man, to suffer; and hee's God to pardon:
Here's our Protection; Here, our Refuge City,
Whose living springs run Piety and Pitty:
Goe then, my Soule, and passe the common Bounds
Of Passion: Goe, and kneele before his Wounds;
Go touch them with thy lips: thou needst not feare;
They will not bleed afresh, though Thou be there:
But if they doe, that very Blood, thou spilt,
Beleev't, will plead thy Pardon, not thy Guilt.

90. On the deposing of Princes.

I know not by what vertue Rome deposes
A Christian Prince: Did Aaron command Moses?
If sacred Scriptures mention such a thing,
Sure Rome has colour to depose a King.

91. On Peters Keyes.

The pow'r of Peter does all pow'r excell;
He opens Heav'n; He shuts the Doores of Hell:
The Keyes are his: In what a case were they,
Should Peters Successors mistake the Key?

92. On Offrings.

Are all such Offrings, as are crusht, and bruis'd,
Forbid thy Altar? May they not be us'd?
And must all broken things be set apart?
No, Lord: Thou wilt accept a Broken Heart.

93. On Vsurers.

Of all men, Vs'rers are not least accurst;
They robb the Spittle; pinch th'Afflicted worst:
In others greife they'r most delighted in;
Whilst Givers suffer for the Takers sin:
O how uniust a Trade of life is that,
Which makes the Lab'rers, leane; and th'idle, fatt!

94. On Repentance.

Canst thou recover thy consumed Flesh,
From the well-feasted Wormes? Or put on fresh?
Canst thou redeeme thy Ashes from the dead?
Or quit thy Carkas from her sheet of Lead?
Canst thou awaken thy earth-closed eyes?
Vnlock thy Marble Monument, and rise?
All this thou mayst performe, with as great ease,
As to Repent thee mortall, when thou please:
It is thy Grave, not Bed that thou art in:
Th'art not asleepe, but thou art dead in Sin.

95. On Wine and Water.

Nature , and Grace, who ever tasted both,
Differ as much, as Wine, and Water doth:
This clenses, (if not grosly stayn'd with Sin)
The outward Man: but scowers not, within:
That cheares the heart, & makes the Courage bold,
Quickens and warmes dead spirits that are cold:
It fires the Blood, and makes the Soule divine:
O that my Water, Lord, were turnd to Wine!

96. On Balams Asse.

The Asse, that for her slownesse, was forbid
To be imployed in Gods service, did
Performe good service now, in being slow:
The Asse received stripes, but would not goe:
She baulkd the way, and Balam could not guid her:
The Asse had farre more wisedome then the Rider:
The Message being bad, the Asse was loth
To be the Bearer: 'Twas a happy sloth;
'Twas well for Balam: Had his Asse but tryde
Another step, Balam had surely dy'd:
Poore Asse! And was thy faithfull service payd
With oft-repeated strokes? Hadst thou obayd,
Thy Lord had bought thy travell, with his blood:
Such is Mans payment, often bad for Good:
The Asse begins to question with his Master,
Argues the case, pleads why he went no faster:

Nay, shewes him Myst'ries, far beyond his reach;
Sure, God wants Prophets, when dull Asses preach:
The Asse perceives the Angel, and fals downe;
When Balam sees him not; or sees, unknowne:
Nor is't a wonder: for Gods Spirit did passe
From blindfold Balam, into Balams Asse.

97. On some raw Divines.

Some raw Divines, no sooner are Espous'd
To their first Wives, and in the Temple hous'd,
But straight the Peace is broke: They now begin
T'appoint the Field, to fight their Battailes in:
School-men must war with School-men; text with text:
The first's the Chaldee's Paraphrase; the next
The Septuagints: Opinion thwarts Opinion;
The Papist holds the first; The last, th'Arminian:
And then the Councels must be call'd t'advice,
What this, of Lateran sayes; what that, of Nice:
And here the poynt must be anew disputed;
Arrius is false; and Bellarmine's confuted:
Thus with the sharpe Artill'ry of their Witt,
They shoot at Random, carelesse where they hit:
The slightly studied Fathers must be prayd,
Although on small acquaintance, in to ayd,
Whose glorious Varnish must impose a glosse
Vpon their Paint, whose gold must gild their drosse:
Now Martine Luther must be purg'd by them,
From all his Errors, like a School-boyes Theame;
Free-wil's disputed, Consubstantiation;
And the deepe Ocean of Predestination,

Where, daring venter, oft, too far into't,
They, Pharo-like, are drownd both Horse and Foot:
Forgetting that the Sacred Law enioynes
New-married men to sit beneath their Vines,
And cheare their Wives: They must not venter out
To Warre, vntill the Yeare be run about.

98. On Buying of the Bible.

Tis but a folly to reioyce, or boast,
How smal a price, thy wel-bought Pen'worth cost:
Vntill thy death, thou shalt not fully know,
Whether thy Purchase be good cheape, or no;
And at that day, beleev't, it will appeare,
If not extreamely cheape, extreamly deare.

99. On the buying of the new Testament.

Reader , If thou wilt prove no more
Then what I terme thee, ev'n before
Thou aske the price, turne back thine eye;
If otherwise, vnclaspe, and buy:
Know then, the Price of what thou buy'st,
Is the deare Blood of Iesus Christ;
Which Price is over-deare to none,
That dares protect it with his owne:
If thou stand guilty of the price,
Ev'n save thy purs-strings, and be wise:
Thy mony will but, in conclusion,
Make purchase of thy owne Confusion:

But if that guilt be done away,
Thou mayst as safely buy, as pay.

100. To my Booke.

My Little Pinnace, strike thy Sayles,
Let slippe thy Anchor; The Winde fayles
And Sea-men oft, in Calmes doe feare
That foule, and boystrous weather's neare:
If a robustious Storme should rise,
And bluster from Censorious Eyes,
Although the swelling Waves be rough,
And proud, thy Harbour's safe enough:
Rest, Rest a while, till ebbing Tides
Shall make thee stanch, and breme thy sides;
When Winds shall serve, hoyst up thy Sayle,
And flye before a prosp'rous Gale;
That all the Coasters may resort,
And bid thee welcome to thy Port.

The end of the First Booke.

The second Booke.

1. To Almighty God .

Lord , Thou requir'st the first of all our Time,
The first of all our Actions, and the prime
Of all our Thoughts; And, Lord, good reason, we,
When Thou giv'st all, should give the first to Thee:
But O, we often rob thee of thy due,
Like Elies Children, whom thy vengeance slue:

Wee pinch thy Offring to enlarge our Fee;
We keepe the Fat, and carve the Leane to Thee:
We thrust our three-tooth'd Flesh-hook in thy Pot,
That only, what the Flesh-hook taketh not,
We share to thee: Lord, we are still deceiving;
We take the Prime, and feed thee with our leaving:
Our Sluttish Bowles are cream'd with soile & filth,
Our Wheat is full of Chaffe; of Tares, our Tilth:
Lord, what in Flesh and Blood can there be had,
That's worth the having, when the best is bad:
Here's nothing good, vnlesse thou please to make it;
O, then, if ought be worth the taking, take it.

2. On Gods Dyet..

Deare Lord; when we approch thy sacred Fire,
To burne our Sacrifice, thou do'st require
The Heads of ev'ry Beast that dyes; the Hearts;
Th'enclosed Fatt; and all the Inward parts:
Our Senses and our Memories must be,
All set apart and sanctifi'd to Thee;
The strength of our Desires, the best perfections
Of our imperfect Wills, the choyce Affections
Of our refined hearts must all conioyne
To seeke thy Glory: They must all be thine:
I know thy Dyet, Lord; Of all the rest,
Thou do'st affect the Head and Purtnance, best.

3. On Moses Birth and Death.

We read; no sooner new-borne Moses crept
Into this vale of Teares, but th'Infant wept;
But, being warned of his Death, his Last,
We find it storied, that he sung as fast:
These sev'rall Passions found their reason, why;
He dy'd to live, but he was borne to dye:
To whom this Transitory life shall bring
Iust cause to weepe; there, death gives cause to sing.

4. On Ieptha's Vow.

Victorious Ieptha, could thy Zeale allow
No other way, then by a rash-made Vow,
T'expresse thy Thanks? A Vow, whose undertaking
Was ev'n a Sin more odious, then the making:
'Twas cruell Piety that taught thee how
To paddle in thy Daughters Blood: But thou,
Unlucky Virgin! was there none to be
Betwixt thy Fathers mortall Brow, and Thee?
Why cam'st thou forth, sweet Virgin? To what end
Mad'st thou such needlesse hast? Thou cam'st, to lend
Thy filiall Triumph to thy Fathers Wreath;
Thou thought'st to meet a Blessing, and not Death:
Rash Ieptha! may not thy repentance quit
That Vow, when Rashnesse was the Cause of it?
O can'st thou not dispence with that, wherein
Thy strict Religion's a presumptuous Sin?

Is she unhappy, or thou cruell rather?
Vnhappy Child, and too too cruell Father.

5. On Iesus and Sampson .

An Angel did to Manoahs wife appeare,
And brought the news her barren womb should beare:
Did not another Angel, if not He,
Thrice blessed Virgin, bring the same to thee?
The Wife of Manoah (nine moneths being run)
Her Heav'n-saluted womb brought forth a Son:
To thee, sweet Virgin, full of Grace and Heaven,
A Child was borne, to us a Son was giuen:
The name of hers was Sampson, borne to fight
For captiv'd Israel, and a Nazarite:
Thine was a Naz'rite too, and borne to ease us
From Sathans burthens, and his name is Iesus:
Sampson espous'd, and tooke in Marriage her
That was the child of an Idolater;
Our Iesus tooke a wife, that bow'd the knee
And worshipt unknowne gods, as well as she:
Assaulted Sampson met, and had to doe
With a fierce Lyon; foyld, and slue him too:
Our conquering Iesus purchas'd higher fame;
His arme encountred Death, and overcame:
Victorious Sampson stept aside, and drew
Pure Honey from the Carcasse that he slue;
When our triumphing Iesus sought, and found
A greater sweetnes in his Lyons wound.
Vxorious Sampson pleases to divide
His purchas'd Honey, to his fairest Bride:

But what! Is Sampson singular in this?
Did not our Iesus doe the like to his?
Sampson propounds a Riddle, and does hide
The folded Myst'ry in his faithles Bride:
Our blessed Iesus propounds Riddles too,
Too hard for Man, his Bride unsought, t'undoe:
The Bride forsakes her Sampson; do's betroth her
To a new Love, and falsly weds another:
And did not the adult'rous Iewes forgoe
Their first Love Iesus, and forsake him too?
Displeased Sampson had the choyce to wed
The younger Sister in the Elders stead:
Displeased Iesus had espous'd the Younger;
God send her fairer; and affections stronger:
Sampson sent Foxes on his fiery errant,
Among their corn, & made their crimes his warrant:
Offended Iesus shewes as able signes
Of wrath: His Foxes have destroyd their Vines:
Our Sampsons love to Delilah was such,
That for her sake poore Sampson suffer'd much:
Our Iesus had his Delilah: For her
His Soule became so great a sufferer.
Sampson was subject to their scorne and shame:
And was not Iesus even the very same?
Sampson's betrayd to the Philistians hands,
Was bound a while, but quickly brake his bands:
Iesus, the first, and second day, could be
The Graves close pris'ner; but, the third, was free:
In this they differ'd; Iesus dying Breath
Cry'd out for Life; but Sampsons cald for Death:
Father forgive them, did our Iesus crye;
But Sampson, Let me be reveng'd and dye:

Since then, sweet Saviour, tis thy Death must ease us,
We flye from Sampson, and appeale to Iesus.

6. On Elyes double censure.

When barren Hanna, prostrate on the Floore,
In heat of Zeale and passion, did implore
Redresse from Heav'n, censorious Ely thought
She had beene drunk, and checkt her for her fault;
Rough was his Censure, and his Check, austere;
Where mildnesse should be us'd, w'are oft severe.
But when his lustfull Sonnes, that could abuse
The House of God, making her Porch their Stues,
Appear'd before him, his indulgent tongue
Compounded rather then rebuk'd the wrong;
He dare not shoot, for feare he wound his Childe;
Where we should be severe, w'are oft too milde:
Vnequall Ely! was thy Sentence iust,
To censure Zeale, and not to punish Lust?
Could thy parentall mildnesse but have past
The former by as eas'ly, as the last,
Or had the last, by iust proportion, bin
Rated but like the first supposed sin,
Perchance thy aged head had found encrease
Of some few dayes, and gone to sleepe, in peace:
Passions misplac'd are dangerous: Let all
Remember Elies Faults, with Elies Fall.

7. On the refining of Gold.

Hast thou observed how the curious hand
Of the Refiner seeks to understand
The inadultr'ate purenesse of his Gold?
He waighs it first, and after does infold
In Lead; and then, commits to the Fire;
And, as the Lead consumes, the Gold drawes nigher
To his perfection, without wast or losse
Of his pure substance, but his waight, his drosse:
The Great Refiner of Mans baser Heart
Vses the like, nay showes the selfe-same Art;
He weighs it, first, and finding it too full
Of Trash and Earth, he wraps it in some dull
And leaden crosse, of Punishment, or Sin;
Then, tryes it in Afflictions Fire; wherein,
The Lead and Drosse evaporate together,
And leaves the Heart refin'd, and quit of either:
Thus though Mans Heart be lessen'd by the Crosse,
And lighter; 'Tis but lighter by the Drosse.

8. On Dagon and the Arke.

What newes with Dagon? Is thy Shrine so hot,
Thou canst not keepe it? Or has Dagon got
The falling sicknes, that his Godship's found
On such a posture, prostrate on the Ground?
Poore helplesse God! But stay! Is Dagon growne
So weake ith' hamms: Nor stand, nor rise, alone?

A God, and can not rise? Tis very odde!
He must have help, or lye: A proper God!
Well, Dagon must requier help of hands;
Vp Dagon goes the second time, and stands
As confident as though his place had bin
His owne, in Fee: Downe Dagon falls agin:
But Dagon's shrewdly martyr'd with the iumpe,
Lost hands and Head, and nothing left but stumpe:
Sure, all's not well with Dagon, now a late;
Hee's either sicke, or much forgot the State,
Belonging to so great a God: Has none
Offer'd some stinking Sacrifice, or blowne
Some nausceous fume into his Sacred Nose,
And made his God-ship dizzy? Or who knowes,
Perchance h'as taken Pett, and will resigne
His sullen place, and quitt his empty Shrine:
No wonder, a false God should stoope, and lye
Vpon the floore, when as a true God's by:
It was unlikely, Dagon should forbeare
Respite of Homage, when the Arke was there:
If I would worship a false God at all,
It should be one that would not scorne to fall
Before his Betters: whose indiff'rent arme,
If it could doe no good, could doe no harme;
I'd rather choose to bend my idle knee,
Of all false Gods, to such a God as Hee,
Whose spirit's not too quick: The fabulous Frogge
Found greater danger in the Stork, then Logge:
And to conclude, I'd choose him, Dagon-like,
Not having Head, to plot; nor Hand, to strike.

9. On Saule and David .

Svre, Saul as little lookd to be a King,
As I: and David dreamd of such a thing,
As much as he; when both alike did keepe,
The one his Fathers Asses; t'other, Sheepe:
Saul must forsake his Whip: And David flings
His Crooke aside; And they must both be Kings:
Saul had no Sword; and David, then, no Speare;
There was none Conquer'd, nor no Conqu'ror there;
There was no Sweat; There was no Blood, to shed;
The unsought Crowne besought the wearers head;
There was no Stratagem; No Opposition;
No taking parts; No iealous Competition:
There needs no Art; There needs no Sword to bring,
And place the Crown, where God appoints the King.

10. On David and Goliah .

Sathan's the great Goliah, that so boasts
And threats our Israel, and defyes her Hosts:
Those smoother Stones couragious David tooke
From the soft bosome of the silver Brooke,
Are Scriptum ests: The Sling, that gives them flight,
Is Faith; That makes them flye, and flye aright:
Lord, lend me Davids Sling, and then I know,
I shall have Davids strength and courage too;
Give me but skill to pick such Stones, as these,
And I will meet Goliah, when he please.

11. On Sauls Witch.

VVhen Saul receiv'd no answer down frō heav'n
How quickly was his jealous passion driven
A despr'ate Course! He needs must cure the Itch
Of his extreame desiers, by a Witch:
When we have lost our way to God, how levell,
How easie to be found's the way toth' Divell.

12. On the necessity of Gods presence.

When thou wert present with thy strengthning Grace,
Saul prophesied, and fought:
But when, Great God, thou didst with-draw thy face,
Murther was in his thought:
Thus, as thou giv'st, or tak'st away thy hand,
We either fall, or stand.

13. Davids Epitaph on Ionathan .

Here lyes the fairest Flowre, that stood
In Isr'els Garden; now, in Blood;
Which, Death to make her Girland gay,
Hath cropt, against her Triumph Day:
Here, here lies Hee, whose Actions pen'd
The perfect Copie of a Frend,

Whose milk-white Vellam did incurre
No least suspition of a Blurre:
Here lyes th'example of a Brother,
Not to bee follow'd by another;
The faire indented Counter-part
Of Davids Ioy, of Davids Heart:
Rest then; For ever, rest alone;
Thy Ashes can be touch'd by none,
Till Death hath pickt out such another:
Here lyes a Flow'r, a Friend, a Brother.

14. On Gods Word.

Gods sacred Word is like the Lampe of Day,
Which softens wax, but makes obdure the clay;
It either melts the Heart, or more obdures;
It never falls in vaine; It wounds, or cures:
Lord, make my brest thy Hive, and then I know,
Thy Bees will bring in Waxe and Honey too.

15. On Man.

By Nature, Lord, men worse then Nothing be;
And lesse then Nothing, if compar'd with Thee;
If lesse and worse then Nothing, tell me than,
Where is that Somthing, thou so boasts, proud Man?

16. On Ahaz Diall.

Mans Heart's like Ahaz Dyall; If it flees
Not forward; it goes backward ten Degrees.

17. On Lust.

Lvst in an Ignis fatuus, that arises
From the base Earth, that playes her wanton prizes,
In solitary Hearts, and ever haunts
Darke places, whose deceitfull flame inchaunts
The wandring steps of the diverted stranger,
Still tempting his mis-guided feet to danger:
She neuer leaves, till by her faire delusion,
Shee brings him headlong to his owne confusion.

18. On Thamar and Ammon .

She must be lov'd; Then courted; and what more?
Enioy'd; then hated; then expeld the dore:
Ammon must be discov'red; must obtaine
License to Feast; and then, be drunke; then slaine:
O what Repose is had in sinfull Breath,
Whose love, in hate; whose mirth cōcludes in death?

19. On Loue and Lust.

They'r wide, that take base Lust, for Loves halfe-brother,
Yeelding two Fathers, but the selfe same Mother:
Lust is a Monster, that's conceiv'd and bred
Of the abused Will; maintaind, and fed
With sensuall Thoughts; Of nature rude, uncivill;
Of life, robustious; and whose Sire's the Devill:
But Love's the Childe of th'uncorrupted Will,
Norrisht with Vertue, poys'ned with the Swill
Of base respects; Of nature, sweet and milde;
In manners, gentle; eas'ly knowne, whose Childe;
For, by the likenesse, ev'ry eye may gather,
That he's the Off-spring of a heav'nly Father:
This, suffers all things; That, can suffer nothing;
This, never ends; That, ever ends in loathing:
T'one loves the Darknes most: The other, Light:
The last's the Childe of Day; The first, of Night;
The one is meeke; The other, full of Fyre;
This never laggs; That ever apt to tyre;
T'ones rash and furious; T'other milde and sage;
That dies with youth; whilst This survives with age;
The One's couragious; Tother full of Feares;
That seekes; The other baulks both eyes and eares:
In breife, to know them both aright, and misse not;
In all respects, t'one is, what to'ther is not:
So farre from Brothers, that they seeme disioyn'd,
Not in Condition only, but in kinde:
Admit a Falshood: that they had one Mother,
The best that Lust can claime's a Bastard Brother:

Great God, must thou be conscious of that Name,
Which iealous Mortals count the height of shame?
And not thy Nuptiall Bed alone defil'd,
But to be charged with the base-borne Childe?
And yet not mov'd? and yet not move thy Rod?
Hast thou not cause to be a Iealous God?
Can thy iust Iealousies, Great God, be grounded,
On Mans disloyalty, not Man confounded?

20. On a Tinder-Boxe.

My Soule is like to Tinder, whereinto
The Devill strikes a Sparke, at ev'ry blow;
My Hearts the Flint; The Steele Temptation is;
And his Suggestions hit, and never misse:
His Hand is sure; My Tinder apt to catch,
Soone sets on fier ev'ry profer'd Match.

21. On Achitophel .

Sage were thy Counsels, and as well apply'd,
If thou hadst had but Loyalty on thy side:
I like thy last Designe (above the rest)
When thou hadst set thy House in order, best:
In all Exploits, the Rule is not so ample,
Not halfe so beneficiall as th'Example:
Th'Almighty prosper Christian Crownes; and blesse
All such like Counsels, with the like successe:
Confound Achitophel: and, Lord, impart
His Head to us; and to our Foes, his Heart.

22. On Sinne.

Vnhappy man! Whose every breath
Is Sin: Whose every Sin is death:

Sin , first, Originall; Then our actuall Sin:
Our Sins that sally forth: Our Sins that lurk within,
Our wilfull Sins; and worlds of Sins, by chance,
Our conscious Sins; our Sins of darker Ignorance,
Our oft-repeated Sins: Sins never reckon'd:
Gainst the first Table Sins: Sins done against the second,
Our pleading Sins; our Sins without a cause:
Our gospel-Sins; rebellious Sins against thy laws:
Our Sins against our vowes; fresh Sins agin:
Sin of infirmity; and high presumptious Sin:

Thus like our Lines, our Lives begin,
Continue, and conclude in Sin:

23. On the Sun and starres.

Ovr dying Saviour's like the setting Sun;
His Saints, on earth, are like the Stars of night:
Experience tels us, till the Sun be gon,
The starres appeare not, and retaine no light:
Till Sun-set we descerne no Starres at all,
And Saints receive their Glory, in his fall.

24. On Absolon and Sampson .

Sampsons defect, and thy excesse of hayre,
Gave him his death, oth' ground; thee, thine ith' ayre:
His thoughts were too deprest; thine sor'd too high;
As mortals live, so oftentimes, they die.

25. On Gods favour.

Gods favour's like the Sun, whose beams appeare
To all that dwell in the worlds Hemispheare,
Though not to all, alike: To some, they expresse
Themselves more radiant, and to others, lesle:
To some, they rise more early; and they fall
More late to others, giving day to all:
Some soyle's more grosse, and breathing more impure
And earthy vapours forth, whose foggs obscure
The darkned Medium of the moister aire;
Whilst other Soiles, more perfect, yield more rare
And purer Fumes; whereby, those Beames appeare,
To some, lesse glorious; and to some, more cleare:
It would be ever Day; Day, alwayes bright,
Did not our interposed Earth make night:
The Sun shines alwaies strenuous and faire,
But, ah, our sins, our Clouds benight the ayre:
Lord, drayne the Fenns of this my Boggy soule,
Whose grosser vapours make my day so foule;
Thy Son hath strength enough to chase away
These rising Foggs, and make a glorious Day:

Rise, and shine alwaies cleare; but most of all,
Let me behold thy glory, in thy Fall;
That being sett, poore I (my flesh being hurld
From this) may meet thee, in another world.

26. On a spirituall Fever.

My soule hath had a Fever, a long while;
O, I can neither rellish, nor digest;
My nimble Pulses beat; my veynes doe boile;
I cannot close mine eyes, I cannot rest:
O, for a Surgeon, now, to strike a Vaine!
That, that would lay my Heate, and ease my Paine:
No, no, It is thy Blood, and not my owne,
Thy Blood must cure me, Iesus, or else none.

27. On Davids choise.

Famine ? the Sword? the Pest'lence? which is least,
When all are great? which worst, when bad's the best?
It is a point of Mercy, yet, to give
A choice of death to such, as must not live:
But was the choise so hard? It seemes to me,
There was a worse, and better of the three,
Though all extreame: Me thinks, the help of hands
Might swage the first; The bread of forraine lands
Might patch their lives, & make some slender shift
To save a while, with necessary thrift:
Me thinks, the second should be lesse extreame
Then that; Alas! poore Israel could not dreame

Of too much peace, that had so oft division
Among themselves, and forrain opposition:
Besides, their King was martiall; his acts glorious;
His heart was valiant, and his hand victorious;
Me thinks a Conquerour, a Man oth' sword
Should nere be puzzeld at so poore a word:
In both, however, David, at the worst,
Might well presume he should not die the first.
But ô, the Plague's impartiall; It respects
No quality of Person, Age, nor Sex:
The Royall brest's as open to her hand
As is the loosest Pesant in the land:
Famin? the Sword? the Pest'lence? David free,
To take his choice? and pick the worst of three?
He that gave David power to refuse,
Instructed David, in the Art to chuse;
He knew, no forrain Kingdōe could afford
Supply, where God makes Dearth: He knew the Sword
Would want an arm; the arm would want her skill;
And skill, successe, where heav'n prepares to kill:
He knew, there was no trust, no safe recourse
To Martiall man, or to his warlike horse;
But it is Thou, Great God, the only close
Of his best thoughts, and the secure repose
Of all his trust; He yields to kisse thy Rod;
Israel was thine, and thou art Israels God:
He knew thy gratious wont, thy wonted Grace;
He knew, thy Mercy tooke the upper place
Of all thy Attributes; T'was no adventure
To cast himselfe on Thee, the only Center
Of all his hopes; Thy David knew the danger
To fall toth'hands of man; or frend, or stranger:

Thus Davids filiall hopes, being anchor'd fast
On Gods knowne Mercy, wisely chose the last:
If thou wilt give me Davids heart, Ile voyce,
Great God, with David; and make Davids choyce:
But stay; deare Lord, my tongue's too bold, too free,
To speake of choyce, that merits all the Three.

28. On Mans unequall division.

Lord, 'tis a common course; w'are apt and free
To take the Best, and share the worst to Thee:
We Fleet the Mornings for our owne Designe;
Perchance, the Flotten Afternoones are thine:
Thou giv'st vs Silke; we offer Cammills-hayre;
Thy blessings march ith' Front; our thanks, ith' Reare.

29. On Beggers.

No wonder that such swarmes of Beggers lurke
In every street: 'Tis a worse trade to worke
Then begge: Yet some, if they can make but shift
To live, will thinke it scorne to thrive by gift:
'Tis a brave mind; but yet no wise fore-cast;
It is but Pride, and Pride will stoope at last;
We all are Beggers; should be so, at least;
Alas! we cannot worke: The very best
Our hands can doe, will not maintaine to live;
We can but hold them up, whilst others give:
No shame for helples Man, to pray in aid;
Great Sol'mon scornd not to be free o'th' Trade;

He begg'd an Almes and blusht not; For the Boone
He got, was treble fairer then his Crowne:
No wonder that he thriv'd by begging, so;
He was both Begger and a Chuser too:
O who would trust to Worke, that may obtaine
The Suit he beggs, without or sweat, or paine!
O what a priviledge, Great God, have we,
That have the Honour, but to begge on thee!
Thou dost not fright us with the tort'ring Whips
Of Bedels; nor dost answere our faint lips
With churlish language; Lord, thou dost not praise
The stricter Statute of last Henryes dayes:
Thou dost not dampe us with the empty voyce
Of Nothing for yee: If our clam'rous noyse
Should chance t'importune, turn'st thy gracious eye
Vpon our wants, and mak'st a quick supply:
Thou dost not brand us with th'opprobrious name
Of idle vagabonds: Thou know'st w'are lame,
And cannot worke; Thou dost not, Pharo-like,
Deny us Straw, and yet requier Brick:
Thou canst not heare us grone beneath our Taske,
But freely giv'st, what we have Faith to aske:
The most, for which my large desire shall plead,
To serve the present's but a Loafe of Bread,
Or but a Token (ev'n as Beggers use;)
That, of thy love, will fill my slender Cruse:
Lord, during life, Ile begge no greater Boone,
If at my Death, thou'lt give me but a Crowne.

30. On the two Children.

My Flesh and Spirit, Lord, are like those payre
Of Infants, whose sad Mothers did repayre
To Iustice: T'one is quick; the other dead:
The two promiscuous Parents that doe plead
For the live Childe, is Thee and Sathan, Lord:
Both claime alike; Iustice cals forth the Sword,
And seeing both, with equall teares, complaine,
Proffers to cleave the Children both in twaine;
And make them equall sharers in the same
That both doe challenge, and what both disclaime:
Sathan applaudes the motion, and replyde;
Nor thine, nor mine, but let them both divide;
And give alike to both: But thou, deare Lord,
Dislik'st the Iustice of th'unequall Sword:
Rather then share it dead, thou leav'st to strive,
And wilt not own't at all, if not alive:
The Sword's put vp, and straight condemnes the other
To be the false; calls Thee, the nat'rall Mother:
Lord of my Soule; It is but Sathans wilde,
To cheate thy bosome of thy living Childe;
Hee'd have the Question by the Sword decided,
Knowing the Soule's but dead, if once divided:
My better part is thine, and thine alone;
Take thou the Flesh, and let him gnaw the Bone.

31. On two Mysteries.

A perfect Virgin, to bring forth a Son!
One, three entyre; and Three, entirely One!
Wonder of Wonders! How might all this come?
We must be deafe, when th'holy Spirit's dumb:
Spare to enquire it: Thou shalt never know,
Till Heav'n dissolve, and the last Trump shall blow.

32. A forme of Prayer.

If thou wouldst learne, not knowing how, to pray,
Adde but a Faith, and say as Beggers say;
Master, I'm poore, and blinde, in great distresse;
Hungry and lame, and cold, and comfortlesse:
O, succour him, that's graveld on the Shelf
Of payne, and want, and cannot help himself;
Cast downe thine eye upon a wretch, and take
Some pitty on me for sweet Iesus sake:
But hold! Take heed this Clause be not put in;
I never begg'd before, nor will agin:
Note this withall, That Beggers move their plaints
At all times Ore tenus, not by Saints.

23. On Solomon and the Queene of Sheba .

It spreds: The sweet perfume of Salomons Fame
Affects the Coasts; And his illustrious name

Cannot be hid: The vnbeliev'd report
Must flye with Eagles wings, to th'honourd Court
Of princely Sheba: Sheba must not rest,
Vntill her eye become th'invited Guest
Of Fames loud Trumpet; her impatience strives
With light-foot Time, while her Ambition drives
Her Chariot wheeles, and gives an ayry passage
To'th' quick deliv'ry of her hearts Embassage:
True wisdome planted in the hearts of Kings,
Needs no more glory then the glory' it brings;
And, like the Sun, is viewd by her owne light,
B'ing, by her owne reflection, made more bright:
The emulous Queen's arriv'd; Shee's gon toth' Court;
No eye-delighting Masque? no Princely Sport,
To entertaine her? No, her eye, her eare
Is taken up, and scornes to see, to heare
Inferiour things: Sh'allowes her eare, her eye
No lesse then Oracles, and Maiestie:
How empty, pastimes doe resolve and flye
To their true nothing, when true wisedome's by!
Th'arrived Queene has Audience; moves; disputes;
Wise Solomon attends; replyes; confutes;
Sh'objects; he answeres; She afresh propounds;
She proves; maintaines it; he decides; confounds:
She smiles; she wonders; being overdaz'd
With his bright beams, stands silent; stands amaz'd:
How Scripture-like Apocrypha's appeare
To common Books! how poore, when Scripture's neare!
The Queene is pleas'd, who never yet did know
The blast of Fame, lesse prodigall, then now;
For now, the greatest part of what she knew
By Fame, is found the least of what is true;

We often find, that Fame, in prime of youth,
Does adde to Falshood, and subtract from Truth:
The thankfull Queene do's, with a lib'rall hand,
Present him with the Riches of her Land:
Where Wisedome goes before, we often finde
That temp'rall Blessings seldome stay behinde:
Lord, grant me wisedome; and I shall possesse
Enough; have more, or have content with lesse.

33. On Rehoboam .

Could dying Parents, at their peacefull death,
Make but a firme Assurance, or bequeath
Their living Vertues; Could they recommend
Their wisedome to their heyrs; Could hearts descend
Vpon the bosome of succeeding Sons,
As well as Scepters doe; as well as Thrones;
Sure Rehoboams Reigne had found increase
Of Love and Honour, and had dyed in peace:
Kingdomes are transitory: Scepters goe
Frō hand, to hand; and Crownes, frō brow, to brow;
But Wisedome marches on another guize:
They'r two things, to be Worldly-great, and wise;
It was the selfe-same Scepter that came downe
From Solomon to thee: The selfe same Crowne,
That did enclose his Princely browes, and thine;
The selfe same flesh and blood, the next o'th' Line;
The selfe-same people were alive, to blesse
Thy prosp'rous dayes; But not the same successe:
Where rests the fault? what secret mischiefe can
Yn. same thy peace? 'Twas not the selfe same Man.

34. On the Prophet slaine by a Lyon.

Twas not for malice; not for want of Food,
The obvious Lyon shed this Prophets blood:
Where faithlesse man neglects the sacred Law
Of God; there, beasts abate their servile awe
To man: When Man dares take a dispensation,
By sin, to frustrate th'end of Mans Creation,
The Beasts, oft-times, by mans Example, doe
Renounce the end of their Creation too:
The Prophet must abstaine: He was forbid;
He must not eate: And yet the Prophet did:
Th'obedient Lyon had command to shed
That Prophets Blood: and see, the Prophet's dead:
O, how corrupt's the nature of Mans Will,
That breaks those Lawes which very Beasts fulfill!

35. On Ahab.

How Ahab longs! Ahab must be possest
Of Naboths Vineyard, or can find no rest:
His tongue must second his unlawfull eye:
Ahab must sue: and Naboth must denye:
Ahab growes sullen; he can eat no Bread;
His Body prostrates on his restlesse Bed:
Vnlawfull Lust immoderate often brings
A loathing in the use of lawfull things:
Ahabs desier must not be with-stood,
It must be purchas'd, though with Naboths Blood;

Witnesse must be suborn'd: Naboth must lie
Open to Law; must be condemn'd; and dye:
His Goods must be confiscate to the Crowne;
Now Ahab's pleas'd; The Vineyard's now his owne:
Vnlawfull Pleasures, when they jostle further
Then ordinary bounds, oft end in murther.
Me thinkes, the Grapes that cluster from that Vine,
Should (being prest) afford more blood then wine.

36. On Rehoboam .

People have Balances; wherein to weigh
Their new-crown'd Princes; which can soon bewray
Their native worth: Some counterpoyse th'allow:
Vnhappy Israel had not weights enow,
To weigh thy Fingers: Heads can never rest
In peace, when their poore members are opprest:
Had thy unlucky Fingers weigh'd no more
Then thy light Iudgement; had thy Iudgement bore
But halfe the burthen of thy Fingers weight,
Thou hadst bin prosp'rous, both in Crowne, & State:
The Lyon's knowne by's Paw; The people spends
Their Iudgement of a Prince by's Fingers ends.

37. On leprous Naaman .

The Leper, prompted with his lothsome griefe,
Seekes to the King of Israel for reliefe:
But Naamans vayne desiers could not thrive;
Isrel's no God; to kill, or make alive:

The Morall Man is of too meane a Stature,
To reach his hand above the head of Nature:
The willing Prophet undertakes the Cure;
The Leper must goe wash, and be secure
From his Disease: He must goe paddle straight,
In Iordan's water: 'Tis a faire Receipt:
And why in Iordan? Have our Syrian streames
Lesse pow'r then Isr'els? sure the Prophet dreames:
How hard it is for Mortals to rely
On Faith! How apt is sense, to question, why?
The Cure perplexes more then the Disease;
Prophets prescribe no better meanes then these?
I lookd his Ceremonious hand should stroke
The place; I look'd the Prophet should invoke:
Some men would faine be cleane, if God would stay
Their times, or would but cure them their owne way:
The techy Leper is displeas'd; hee'l hence:
The Iordan Prophet dallyes against sense:
His wiser servants urge their hasty Lord
To Iordan's streames: He washes; is restor'd:
How good a God have we, whose grace fulfils
Our choyce desires oft-times against our wills!
The Lepers clens'd; And now he dos applaud
Not Isr'els streames alone, but Isr'els God:
The Prophet must have thanks, and Gold beside;
The thanks are taken, but the Gold's deny'd:
Who would not deale with Thee, that art not nice,
To sell such Pen'worths at so small a price!
Naaman, in lieu of his refus'd reward,
Vowes the true God; provided, when his Lord
Shall serve ith house of Rimmon, if he bow
For fashion-sake, he may secure his Vow:

Some will not stick to lend their God a house,
Might they reserve one roome for their owne use:
Gehazi thinks the Cure too cheape; He soone
Oretakes the Lepers Chariot, asks a Boone
I'th' Prophets name: But marke what did befall;
He got his Boone; but got his plague withall:
Vnlawfull gaines are least what they appeare,
And ill got Gold is alwayes bought too deare:
Lord, I did wash in Iordan, and was cur'd;
My Flesh, that false Gehazi, hath procur'd
A sinfull purchase, having over-run
The clensed Naaman of my Soule: What's done
By false Gehazi, let Gehazi beare;
Let Naamans Leprosie alone stick there;
O, clense them both, or if that may not be,
Lord, strike Gehazi; and keepe Naaman free.

38. On Chamber-Christians.

No matter whether (some there be that say)
Or goe to Church, or stay at home, if pray:
Smiths dainty Sermons have, in plenty, stor'd me
With better stuffe, then Pulpits can afford me:
Tell me, why pray'st thou? Heav'n commanded so:
Art not commanded to his Temples to?
Smal store of manners! when thy Prince bids Come,
And feast at Court; to say, I've meat at home.

39. On the Widowes Cruse.

Lord, I'm in debt, and have not wherewithall
To pay: My score is great; my wealth but small;
My house is poorely furnisht, and my Food
Is slender; I have nothing that is good:
Lord, if my wasted Fortunes prove no better,
My Debt is ev'n as desp'rate as the Detter:
All the reliefe thy servant this long while,
Hath had, is but a little Cruse of Oyle;
There's none will give of Almes: I neither get
Enough to satisfie my wants, nor debt:
Lord, if thee please to show the selfe same Art
Vpon the slender vessell of my Heart,
Thy Prophet did, upon the Widowes Cruse,
I shall have Oyle to sell, have Oyle to vse;
So shall my Debt be paid, and I go free;
No Debt is desp'rate, in respect of Thee.

40. On the swimming Axe.

The borrow'd Axe fell in: 'Twas lost; lamented;
The Prophet moov'd; the Workman discontented;
A Stick hewne downe; and by the Prophets hand,
Throwne in; The Axe did float, and came aland:
And why a Stick? Had that the pow'r to call
The massy Iron up? Sure, none at all:
Moses must use his Rod; Moses, I doubt it,
Had beene but lame, but impotent without it;

Nor could that Rod have scourged Pharoes Land,
Had it beene waved by an other hand:
God often works by meanes, and yet not so,
But that he can, as well without them, too.
God can save Man without the help of Man,
But will not; Wils not alwayes what he can:
Something is left for us: we must not lye
Ith' ditch, and cry, And if we dye we dye:
We must not lye like Blocks, relying on
The workmans Axe; There's something must be done:
The workmans Axe perchance had never bin
Recald againe, if not the sticke throwne in:
We must be doing, yet those Deeds, as our,
Have no more native vertue, nay, lesse power
To save us, then that sticke had, to recall
The Axe from the deepe bottome of his Fall:
I will be doing; but repose in Him;
Throw I in sticks, hee'l make my Iron swim.

41. On Baals Preists.

Iehu's crown'd King; Iehu the King must fall
To Ahabs God: Iehu must worship Baal:
The gods-divided people must goe call
Baals sacred Preists: Iehu must worship Baal:
None must be left behind; They must come all;
Iehu must burne a Sacrifice to Baal:
The Priests come puffing in; both great and small,
Must wait on Iehu that must worship Baal:
Baals house is fill'd and crouded to the wall
With people, that are come to worship Baal:

What must there now be done? what Offring shall
Perfume Baals nostrils? ev'n the Preists of Baal:
Baals holy Temple's now become a Stall
Of Preistly flesh; of fleshly Priests for Baal;
How would our Gospell flourish, if that all
Princes, like Iehu, would but worship Baal!

42. On the Tempter.

How dares thy Bandog, Lord, presume t'approch
Into thy sacred presence? or incroach
Vpon thy choyce possessions, to devoure
Thy sporting Lambs? To counterfeit thy pow'r,
And to usurpe thy Kingdome, ev'n as He
Were, Lord, at least, a Substitute to Thee?
Why dost not rate him? why does he obtaine
Such favour to have liberty' of his Chaine?
Have we not Enemies to counterbuffe,
Enow? Is not the Flesh, the World enough
To foyle us? this abroad, and that at home;
But must that Sathan, must that Bandogg come
T'afflict the weake, and take the stronger side?
O, are there not enow, enow beside?
Is there not odds enough, when we have none
But mighty Foes; nay, Rebels of our owne,
Beneath a false disguise of love and peace,
That still betray vs? Are not these, all these
Sufficient, to encounter and o'rethrow
Poore sinfull Man; but must that Bandogg too,
Assault us, Lord? We dare not cast our eyes
Our timerous eyes to Heav'n, we dare not rise

From off our aking knees, to plead our case,
When he can commune with thee face to face;
Nay more, were it but possible to doe,
Would draw thee, Lord, to his bold Faction too.
Lord, lend me but thy power to resist
What Foes thou sendst, & send what Foes thou list:
It is thy Battaile: If thou please to warme
My blood, and find the strength, Ile find the Arme;
March thou i'th' Front; Ile follow in the Reare;
Come then ten thousand Bandogs, Ile not feare.

43. On a Cypher.

Cyphers to Cyphers added, seeme to come
(With those that know not Art) to a great sum:
But such as skill in Numeration, know,
That worlds of Cyphers, are but worlds of show:
We stand those Cyphers, ere since Adams fall;
We are but show; we are no summe at all:
Our bosome-pleasures, and delights, that doe
Appeare so glorious, are but Cyphers too:
High-prized honour; Friends; This house; The tother,
Are but one Cypher added to another:
Reckon by rules of Art, and tell me, than,
How great is thy Estate, Ingenious Man?
Lord, be my Figure, Then it shall be knowne
That I am Somthing: Nothing, if alone:
I care not in what place, in what degree;
I doe not weigh how small my Figure be:
But as I am, I have nor worth, nor vigure:
I am thy Cypher; O, be thou my Figure.

44. On Haman and Mordecay .

The King wold fain take rest; But thought denies
To pay her nightly Tribute to his eyes:
The Persian Cronicle must be brought, to set
His eyes in quiet, till they'r payd the debt:
He turnes the leaves; The first he lights upon,
Is the true service Mordecay had done:
Heav'n often works his ends, at such a season,
When Man has will to banish sense, and Reason:
His loyall service must be now recall'd
To blest remembrance: Haman must be call'd
To Councell; question'd, but not know the thing,
The King intends; He must advise the King,
What Ceremony must be us'd, what Cost,
What Honor, where the King shall honor most?
Observe but in the Progresse of this Story,
How God turnes Factor for his Servants glory:
Haman perswaded that such honour can
Fit none but him; nere questions, Who's the Man?
His more ambitious thoughts are now providing
A Horse of State, for his owne Princely riding;
In briefe; his Iudgement is, That such a One,
Must lack no Honor, but the Royall Throne:
How apt is Man to flatter his owne heart!
How faire a Debter to his false desert!
The royall Horse is ready, all things fit,
That could be broach'd by a vain-glorious witt:
Haman expects his answere; His Ambition
Spurrs on, wants nothing but his large Commission:

Haman must haste with all the speed he can,
And see it done: But Mordecay's the Man:
God often crownes his Servants at their Cost,
That hate their persons, and disdaine them most:
Lord, if thou please to make me but thine owne,
I shall have Honour, spight of Honours frowne.

45. On Iobs Temptations.

God questions Sathan: Boasts his Iobs desert,
In the perfection of a Simple Heart:
Iobs Faith was fervent; Sathan was as chill
To yeeld it; but must yeeld against his will;
Condemnes it to be Servile, to be bought
With Gods own coyne: Dos Iob serve God for nought?
It is a common trick, the Tempter uses,
The Faith he cannot conquer, he abuses:
Alas, that Faith requires not so much praise,
'Tis a good Faith, as Faiths goe now adayes:
Is it not strengthen'd by thy' indulgent hand,
That blest his Labours, and inricht his Land?
Puffe out the Fire, his Faith will quickly chill:
Sathan puffe thou; nay Sathan puffe thy will:
Nor Ebbe nor Floud of small, or great estate,
Are certaine Badges of Gods love, or Hate:
What's now to doe? Poore Iob must be bereaven
Of all his stronger Herds; Fire, sent from Heaven,
Must burne his fruitfull Flocks, that none remaine;
His houses fall; and all his Children slaine;
And yet not curse? Alas, poore Iob adresses
His thoughts to heav'n; he worships God & blesses:

The lively Faith that can retaine her God,
May groane; but seldome rave beneath the Rod.
But what sayes Sathan now? The hedge is broke,
That fenc'd my Servant Iob: What further Cloke
For his uprightnesse hath he? what pretence
For his continued Love and Innocence?
Has not thy malice had her owne desire?
'Twas soundly puff'd; thy Puffs have blown the fire:
Gods Tryals are like Bellows: Sathan's Blower,
Blowes out false Faiths, makes true ones blaze the more.
True Lord; His Faith is tough: But Snailes as well
Can thrive without, as live within their Shell:
To save a life who would not lose some skin?
Touch but his Hornes, O how hee'l draw them in!
Sathan I give thy malice leave, be free
To peele the Barke, but spare to touch the Tree:
Feare not ye little Flock: The greatest ill
Your Foes can doe's to scratch; They cannot kill.
What now's th'exployt? Afflicted Iob does lye,
A very Hospitall of misery:
I thinke, that all the Vlcers that have bin
In Egypt cur'd, are broken out agin
In his distempered Flesh; yet Iob is still
The very same, nor charg'd his God with ill:
A Faith that lodges in a double Brest,
May stand the touch; None but true Faiths, the Test:
If these be Flames poore man must swelter in,
He needs a World a patience, not to sin.

46. On bauling Curres.

I feard the world and I were too acquainted;
I hope my feares are, like her Ioyes, but painted:
Had I not bin a Stranger, as I past,
Her bauling Curres had never barkd so fast.

47. On David .

Stands it with State, that Princely David, who
Did weare the Crown, should play the Harper too?
He playes and sings; His glory nere disdaines
To dance, and to receive a Crowne for's paines:
Tis no disparagement, 'tis no misprision
Of State, to play before the Great Musition.

48. On Abraham .

The word is out: Poore Abr'am must be gon;
Must take his Isaak; take his onely Son;
The Son of his Affection; him, from whom,
From whose blest loynes so many Kings must come:
Ev'n him must Abr'am slay, Abr'am must rise,
And offer Isaac a burnt Sacrifice.
God scornes the Offals of our faint desires;
He gives the best, and hee the best requires.
Abr'am forbeares to question; thinks not good
To reason, to advise with Flesh and Blood;

Begs not young Isaacks life, nor goes about
T'object the Law of Murther; makes no doubt:
He rises, rises early; leads his Son;
Hasts where this holy Slaughter must be done:
Where God bids Goe; that very Breath's a Warrant;
We must not linger there: Haste crownes the Arrant.
His Servants must no further: They must stay;
Private Devotion claimes a private way:
They must abide with th' Asse, whilst th'aged Syre
In t'one hand takes the knife; in t'other, Fire:
The sacred Wood of Offring must be pil'd
On the young shoulders of th'obedient Childe:
O here mine eye must spend a teare, to see
Thee beare that Wood, great God, that, since, bore Thee:
Mistrustles Isaac seeing the wood, the fire,
The sacrificing Knife, begins t'enquire,
But where's the Sacred Lamb, that must be slaine?
Resolved Abra'm lest the flesh should gaine
Too much of Nature) sayes not, Thou my Son
Art he; but, The Almighty will provide us One:
Where God commands, 'tis not enough t'effect,
But we must baulk th'occasion of neglect.
The faithfull Abra'm now erects an Alter;
Orders the wood: what tongue can chuse but falter,
To tell the rest? He layes his hand upon
His wondring Isaac; binds his only Son;
He layes him downe; vnsheath's his Priestly knife;
Vp-heaves his arme, to take his Isaacks life:
True Faith is active: Covets to proceed
From thought to action; and from will to deed:
Before the strengthned stroke had time to fall,
A Sudden voyce from Heav'n cryes hold; Recall

Thy threatning Arme, and sheath thy holy Knife,
Thy Faith has answer'd for thy Isaac's life;
Touch not the Childe; thy Faith is throughly showne,
That has not spar'd thine owne, thine only Son:
How easie is our God, and liberall, who
Counts it as don, what we have will to doe!

49. On Censorio .

Censorio takes in hand, by sharp reproofe,
To mend his Brothers error, and to snuffe
His darkned Flame; and yet Censorio's crimes
Are rankt among the foulest of the Times:
Let none presume, Censorio, to controule
Or top the dim light of anothers Soule,
If not more pure then him, that is controll'd:
The Temple-Snuffers must be perfect Gold.

50. On Mordecay and Haman .

Two Steeds appointed were by Hamans hand,
The one at Grasse; The other Steed did stand
In Persia's Mues: The former was providing
For Mordecay; the last for Hamans riding:
But since, in order, last things prove the worst,
Hamans ambition drove him to the First:
But see, proud Hamans prouder Steed did cast
His glorious rider, whilest the Iew sits fast:
What matter Haman? Fortune, though no Friend
Of thine, first brought thee to thy Iourneyes end.

41. On three Fooles.

The Wiseman sayes, It is a Wise-mans part,
To keepe his tongue close pris'ner in his heart;
If he be then a Foole, whose thought denies
There is a God, how desp'rately unwise,
How more then Foole is he, whose language shall
Proclaime in publike, There's no God at all!
What then are they, nay Fooles, in what degree,
Whose Actions shall maintain't? Such Fooles are we.

52. On miserable man.

Adam , the highest pitch of perfect nature,
And lively image of his great Creator,
Declin'd his God; and, by one sinfull Deed,
Destroy'd himselfe, and ruin'd all his seed:
How wretched, then, how desp'rate's our Condition,
Whose ev'ry minute makes a repetition
Of greater sins, against both light of Nature,
And Grace, against Creation and Creator!
Alas! we claime not by descent, alone,
But add by hourely purchase of our owne:
There is no breach of Loyalty, no sin
We are imperfect, and unpractis'd in;
Shall not a world of Sins bring ruine, then,
To One; when one Sin slew a world of men?

53. On Mans two enemies.

Two potent Enemies attend on Man:
T'one's fat and plump; The other leane and wan;
T'one faunes and smiles; The other weepes as fast;
The first Presumption is; Despaire, the last:
That feeds upon the bounty of full Treasure;
Brings iolly newes of Peace, and lasting pleasure:
This feeds on want, unapt to entertaine
Gods Blessings: Finds them ever in the waine:
Their Maximes disagree; But their Conclusion
Is the selfe same: Both jump in Mans Confusion:
Lord, keepe me from the first, or else, I shall
Sore up and melt my waxen wings, and fall:
Lord, keepe the second from me; lest I, then,
Sinke downe so low, I never rise agen:
Teach me to know my selfe, and what I am,
And my Presumption will be turnd to shame:
Give me true Faith, to know thy dying Son,
What Ground has then Despaire to worke upon?
T'avoid my shipwrack upon either Shelfe,
O, teach me, Lord, to know my God; my selfe.

54. On Queene Ester .

Illustrious Princesse, had thy chance not beene,
To be a Captive, thou hadst bin no Queene:
Such is the Fortune, our Misfortune brings;
Had we not first bin Slaves, w'ad nere beene Kings.

55. On Slanders.

Have sland'rous tongues bin busie to defame
The pretious Oyntment of my better name?
Or hath censorious basenesse gone about
With her rude blast to puffe my Taper out?
They have. And let their full mouthd bellowes puffe;
It is their Breath that stinks, and not my Snuffe:
I, let them snarle and burst, that I may smile;
Doe, let them jerk, and I will laugh the while:
They cannot strike beyond my patience; No,
Ile beare, and take it for an Honour too;
The height that my Ambition shall flye,
Is only to deserve their Calumny:
O, what a Iudgement 'twere, if such as they
Should but allow my Actions, and betray
My'endangered name, by their maligne applause,
To good Opinion, That were a just Cause
Of Griefe indeed! but to be made the Story
Of such base tongues, it is my Crowne, my Glory:
I, let them spend their Dust against the winde,
And bark against the Moone, till they be blind,
And weary; Let their malice not forbeare
To baule at Innocence, to wound and teare
An absent name, whilst their unhallowed tongues
Make me a glorious Martyr in their wrongs:
I beg no Favour; Nay, my hearts desire
Is still to be calcin'd by such a Fyre;
That, in conclusion, all men may behold
A faire gilt Counter, from a Crowne of Gold.

Great God, I care not this, how foule I seeme
To Man; may I be faire in thy esteeme:
It matters not how light I seeme to be
To the base world, so I be weight to Thee.

56. On Nabvchadnezzer .

VVhat lucklesse Accident hath bred such ods
Betwixt great Babels Monarch, and his Gods,
That they so oft disturbe him, and affright
His broken slumbers with the Dreames of night!
Alas, what hath this Princely Dreamer done,
That he must quit the Glory of his Throne,
His Royall Scepter, his Imperiall Crowne?
Must bee expeld his Honour, and come downe
Below the meanest Slave, and, for a Season,
Be banisht from the use, the Act of Reason?
Must be exil'd from humane shape, and chew
The cudde, and must be moistned with the dew
Of heav'n; nay, differ in no other thing
From the bruit beast, but that he was a King:
What ayle thy Gods, that they are turn'd so rough,
So full of rage? what, had they meat enough
To fill their golden Stomacks? Was thy knee
Bent oft enough? what might the reason be?
Alas, poore harmelesse things! it was not they;
'Twas not their wills: I dare be bold to say,
They knew it not: It was not they that did it;
They had no pow'r to act, or to forbid it:
Deserv'dst thou not, Great King, the stile of Beast,
To serve such Gods, whose Deities can digest

Their servants open wrongs? that could dispense
With what they'endure without the least offence?
Illustrious Beast, methinks thy better'd state
Has no great reason to complaine of Fate:
Thou art more neere to him thou didst adore,
By one degree, then ere thou wert before:
'Tis some promotion; That there is lesse ods
Betwixt thy Nature, and thy senslesse Gods.

57. On Partio .

Hast thou forsaken all thy Sinnes, but One?
Beleeve it, Partio; Th'ast forsaken None.

58. On Ignorance.

The greatest Friend Religion hath t'advance
Her glory's unaffected Ignorance:
The burning Taper lends the fairest light,
And shines most glorious, in the shades of night.

59. On a great Battaile.

When my rebellious Flesh doth disagree
With my resisting Spirit; me thinks, I see
Two mighty Princes draw into the Field,
Where one must win the Day; the other, yeeld:
They both prepare; Both strike up their Alarmes;
Both march; Both well appointed in their Armes;

They both advance their Banners: T'one displayes
A bloody Crosse: The other Colours blaze
A Globe terrestriall: Nature carries one;
And Grace, the other: Each by's Ensigne's knowne:
They meet; encounter; blowes exchange for blowes;
Dart is returnd for Dart: They grapple; Close;
Their Fortune's hurryed with unequall Sailes;
Somtimes the Crosse; somtimes, the Globe prevailes.
We are that Field; And they that strive to win us,
Are God and Sathan; Those, that warre within vs,
The Flesh the Spirit: No parting of the Fray,
Till one shall win; the other, lose the Day:
My God, O weaken this rebellious Flesh,
That dares oppose: O, quicken and refresh
My dull and coward Spirit, that would yeeld,
And make proud Sathan Master of the Field:
Deare Lord, the Field's thy own; thou thoughtst it good
To purchas't with my dying Saviours Blood:
'Tis thine, Great God, by title, and by right;
Why shouldst thou question, what's thy owne, by fight?
Lord, keepe possession thou, and let th'accurst
And base Vsurper doe his best, his worst.

60. On the World.

The World's an Inne; and I, her Guest;
I eate; I drinke; I take my Rest:
My Hostesse Nature, do's deny me
Nothing, wherewith she can supply me:
Where, having stayd a while, I pay
Her lavish Bills, and goe my way.

61. On the Sabbath.

Away my thoughts: Away my words, my deeds;
Away, what ever nourishes and feeds
My frayle delights: Presume not to approach
Into my presence; dare not once t'encroach
Vpon the hallowed Temple of my Soule;
Ye are not for this Day; y'are all too foule:
Abide yee with the Asse, till I goe yonder,
And cleave the Isaac of my heart in sunder:
I must goe sacrifice: I must goe pay,
I must performe my holy vowes, to day:
Tempt not my tender Frailty: I enjoyne
Your needfull absence; y'are no longer mine:
But if it may not be, that we must sever
Our yoakt affections, and not part for ever;
Yet give me leave, without offence, to borrow,
At least, this day, although we meet to morrow.

62. On Prayer.

In all our Prayres, th'Almighty do's regard
The Iudgement of the Ballance, not the Yeard:
He loves not Words, but Matter; 'Tis his pleasure
To buy his Wares by Weight, and not by Measure.

63. On Fido .

Findst thou no comfort on this fickle Earth?
No Ioy at all? No Obiect for thy Mirth?
Nothing but Sorrow? Nothing else, but toyle?
What, doe thy dayes shew nothing, worth a smile?
Doe worldly pleasures no contentment give?
Content thee, Fido, Th'ast not long to live.

64. On Charissa .

Woldst thou, Charissa, wish thy fortunes better,
Then, by thy act, to make thy God thy Detter?
Ile teach thee how to doe't: Relieve the poore;
And thou mayst safely set it on Gods Score.

65. On Raymond Sebvnd .

I wonder, Raymond, thy illustrious Witt,
Strengthned with so much learning, could cōmit
So great a Folly, as to goe about,
By Natures feeble light, to blazon out
Such Hea'vn-bred Mist'ryes, which the hearts of Men
Cannot conceiue, much lesse the darkned Pen
Expresse; such secrets, at whose depth, the Quire
Of blessed Angels tremble, and admire:
Could thy vaine-glory lend no easier taske
To thy sublime Attempt, then to vnmaske

The glorious Trinity, whose Triune face
Was ne're discovered by the eye of Grace,
Much lesse by th'eye of Nature, being a story
Objected only to the Eye of Glory?
Put out thy light, bold Raymond, and be wise;
Silence thy tongue, and close thy'ambitious eyes:
Such heights as these, are Subjects far more fit
For holy Admiration, then for Witt.

66. On Sinnes.

My Sinnes are like the hayres upon my head,
And raise their Audit to as high a score;
In this they differ; These doe dayly shed,
But, ah, my sinnes grow dayly more and more:
If, by my Hayres, thou number out my sinnes,
Heav'n make me bald, before that day begins.

67. On the Gospell.

Ovr Gospell thrives the more by forreine Iarrs;
It overcomes in outward opposition:
But O, it suffers still, in Civill Warres,
And loses Honour by a home-division:
If thou assist, I care not, Lord, with whom
I warre abroad, so I have peace at home.

68. On the dayes of Man.

Lord, if our Dayes be few, why doe we spend
And lavish them unto so evill an end?
Lord, if our dayes be evill, why doe we wrong
Our selves, and Thee, to wish our Day so long?
Our dayes decrease; but, still, our evils renew;
Great God, we make them evill; Thou mak'st them few.

69. On Sinnes.

My Sinnes are like the Sands upon the shore;
Which every Ebbe layes open to the Eye:
In this they differ; These are cover'd ore
With ev'ry Flood: My sinnes still open lye:
If thou wilt make mine Eyes a Sea of teares,
O, they will hide the sinnes of all my yeares.

70. On Kain and David .

Their Sins were equall; Equall was their guilt:
They both committed Homicide; Both spilt
Their Brothers guiltles blood: Nay, of the twayne,
The first occasion was lesse foule, in Kain:
'Twas likely Kains Murther was in heate
Of blood; There was no former grudge, no threate:
But Davids was a Plott; He tooke the life
Of poore Vriah, to enjoy his Wife:

Was Iustice equall? Was her Ballance even?
Kain was punisht: David was forgiven:
Both came to tryall: But good David did
Confesse that Sin, which cursed Kain hid:
Kain bewaild the punishment; wherein,
His Sin had plung'd him: David wayles his Sin:
If I lament my sins; Thou wilt forbeare
To punish, Lord; or give me strength, to beare.

71. On Plavsvs .

Plausus , of late, hath rais'd an Hospitall;
Repayr'd a Church; Founded a Colledge-Hall:
Plausus hath built a holy Temple; vow'd it
To God: Erects a Schoole, and has endow'd it:
Plausus hath given, through his abundant pity,
A Spittle to the blind, and lame o'th' City:
Plausus allowes a Table for the poore
O'th' Parish; besides those, he feeds at doore:
Plausus relieves the Prisons; Mends the Wayes;
Maintaines a Lecture, on the Market dayes:
Plausus, in briefe, for bounty beares the Bell;
Plausus has don much Good; But nothing, Well.

72. On Sinnes.

My Sinnes are like the Starres, within the skyes;
In view, in number, ev'n as bright, as great:
In this they differ: These doe set and rise;
But ah, my Sinnes doe rise, but never sett:

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Shine Son of glory, and my sins are gon,
Like twinkling Starrs, before the rising Sun.

73. On change of Weathers.

And were it for thy profit, to obtaine
All Sunshine? No vicissitude of Raine?
Thinkst thou, that thy laborious Plough requires
Not Winter frosts, as well as Summer fiers?
There must be both: Somtimes these hearts of ours
Must have the sweet, the seasonable Showres
Of Teares; Sometimes, the Frost of chill despaire
Makes our desired sunshine seeme more faire:
Weathers that most oppose to Flesh and Blood,
Are such as helpe to make our Harvest good:
We may not choose, great God; It is thy Task:
We know not what to have; nor how to ask.

74. On Prosper .

Take heed, thou prosp'rous sinner, how thou liv'st
In Sin, and thriv'st;
Thou, that doest flourish in thy heapes of gold,
And summes vntold;
Thou, that hadst never reason to complaine
Of Crosse, or paine.
Whose unafflicted Conscience never found
Nor Check, nor Wound;
Beleeve it, Prosper, thy deceitfull Lease
Allowes thee neither wealth, nor Ioy, nor Peace:

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Thy golden heapes are nothing but the price
Of Paradise;
Thy Flattering pleasures, and thy ayrie Ioyes,
But painted Toyes;
Thy peacefull Conscience is but like a Dogge,
Tyed in a Clogge;
Beleeve it, Prosper, thy deceitfull Lease
Allowes thee neither Wealth, nor Ioy, nor Peace:
Thy heapes of Gold will stand thee in no steed,
At greatest need;
Thy empty Pleasures, will convert thy laughter,
To groanes, hereafter:
Thy silent Conscience, when enlarg'd, will roare,
And rage the more:
Beleeve it, Prosper, thy deceitfull Lease,
Affords the neither Wealth, nor Ioy, not Peace.

75. On the Sight of a Plague bill.

Five thousand in a weeke, in one poore City?
Because it was thy Pleasure, twas no pity;
Why should thou pity vs, Iust God, when we
Could never finde a time to pity thee?
Thou never strik'st without a reason why,
Nor often, then: We easily cast our eye
Vpon the punishment, but blinde toth' sin,
That farre transcends the Iudgement it calls in:
O, if the weekly Bills of our Transgression
Could but appeare, and make as deepe impression
In our sad hearts, to make our hearts but know
As great a sorrow, as our Plague-bills doe;

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No doubt, no doubt but Heav'ns avenging hand
Would turne a Stranger to our prosprous Land:
O, if that weekly Catalogue of Sin
Could, with our City Bills, be brought but in,
And be compar'd, wee'd think our Bills not high,
But rather wonder there are men, to dye.

76. On Theaters.

Six dayes were made for work; the seventh, for rest;
I read of none, that Heav'n ordaind for Play:
How have our looser Theaters transgrest
The Decalogue, that make it ev'ry Day:
Me thinks, that they should change their Trade, for shame,
Or honour't with a more laborious name.

77. On Players and Ballad-mongers.

Ovr merry Ballads, and lascivious Playes
Are much alike: To common censure, both
Doe stand or fall: T'one sings; the other sayes;
And both are Fripp'ries of anothers Froth:
In short; They'r Preist and Clark of Belials Altar;
T'one makes the Sermon; T'other tunes the Psalter.

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78. On God and the King.

Ovr God and Prince (whom God for ever blesse)
Are both, in Mercy, of a Constitution:
Both slow, till meere necessity shall presse,
To put their penall Lawes in Execution:
And marke, How in a like successe they ioyne;
At both we grumble; and at both, repine.

79. On the life and death of Man.

The life of Man is but th'imperfect Story
Of his Adventure, towards future Glory,
For death to finish: Who will sticke to say,
A glorious Ev'n foretells a glorious Day?

80. On Fox .

There was a time, (wo-worth that heavy time)
When rav'nous Foxes did devoure the prime,
And choyce of all our Lambs: But Heav'n did raise
A more ingenuous Fox, in after dayes,
Whose high immortall Pen redeem'd their breath,
And made those Lambs revive, in spight of death:
To see, how mutuall Saintly Favours be!
Thou gav'st them life, that now give life to thee.

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81. On the Booke of Common Prayer.

The Booke of Common Pray'r excels the rest;
For Pray'rs that are most Common are the best.

82. To Mvndano .

VVoldst thou Mundano, prove too great, too strong
For peevish Fortunes angry brow to wrong?
Renounce her power: Banish Fortune hence,
And trust thee to the hands of Providence;
The poorest heart that ever did importune
Heav'ns ayd, is farre above the frownes of Fortune.

83. On Romes Sacrifices.

It cannot be excus'd: It is a wrong
Proceeding from a too-too partiall tongue,
To say, The proser'd service of false Rome
Had no good favor, and did never come
Toth' gates of Heav'n; Fye, Rome's belyde;
For when our Troopes of glorious Martyrs dy'd,
In that warm age, who were their Priests? By whom
Was their blood shed? Was't not by holy Rome?
Such sweet Perfumes, I dare be bold to say,
Rome never burnt before, nor since that day:
A sweeter Incense, save his dying Son,
Heav'n ne're accepted since this World begun,

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84. On a dead Man.

It is a common use to entertaine
The knowledge of a great man, by his Trayne:
How great's the dead-man then? There's none that be
So backt with troopes of Followers, as Hee.

85. On corner Sinners.

Svch men are like to Owles; They take delight,
To make the night their day; their day, the night:
They hate the Sun, and love dark corners best;
But they shall houle, when day-birds are at rest.

86. On the Kite.

Mark but the soaring Kite; and she will read
Brave rules for Diet; teach thee how to feed;
She flyes aloft; She spreads her ayrie plumes
Above the reach, above the nautious fumes
Of dang'rous earth; She makes her selfe a stranger
T'inferiour things, and checks at ev'ry danger;
At length, she stoopes; and, with a brave disdaine,
She strikes her prey, and mounts her up againe;
By her example, learne to use the earth,
And thou shalt find lesse mischiefe, and more mirth.

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87. On Formio .

Formio bewailes his Sins, with the same heart,
As Frends do Frends, when they'r about to part,
Beleeve it, Formio will not entertaine
A merry thought, untill they meet againe.

88. On bosome sinnes.

How loath is Flesh, to yeild! the Spirit, to win
The glorious Conquest of a Bosome sin!
O, how the'ingenious Flesh will pleade! abuse
The height of Wit, to argue, o excuse:
At length, it yeelds: O, give it leave to stay
A yeare; a moneth; a weeke; at least, a day;
And if not so, yet let my breaking heart
But hugg it once or twise, before we part;
Let me but take my leave, my thoghts shal bind me
From the least touch; let me but looke behind me:
Nay sin, Gehezi-like, will have a blow
At cleansed Namans bounty, ere she goe.

89. On the Eccho.

An Eccho's nothing, but a forc'd rebound,
Or airy repercussion of a Sound,
Proceeding from some hollow place, well knowne
To have no Bulk, no Beeing of her owne:

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It is no Substance; nothing, but a Noise;
An empty sound; the picture of a voyce:
Such is my Courtly Friend, At my request,
Hee'l breath his service from his hollow brest,
And Eccho-like for every word that's blowne
Into his eares, returnes me two, for one;
But when they come toth' Test, alas they'r found
More light then Ayre, meere shadowes of a Sound;
Ile trust my God; His bounty still affords
As many deedes, as my false Friends do words.

90. On a Water-Mill.

The formall Christian's like a Watermill:
Vntill the Floodgate's open, he lyes still;
He cannot work at all; he cannot dreame
Of going, till his wheeles shall finde the streame.

91. On Pavl and Apollos .

Tis not, what this man, or what that man saith,
Brings the least stone, toth' building of my faith;
My eare may ramble, but my Conscience followes
No man: I'me neither Pauls, nor yet Apollo's:
When Scripture gold lyes by me, is it just
To take up my Salvation, upon Trust?
My Faith shall be confin'd to no mans Lists;
Ile only follow Paul, as Paul is Christs.

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92. On Morvs .

If a poore timerous Hare but crosse the way,
Morus will keepe his chamber, all the day;
What Evill portends it, Morusi? It does show,
That Morus is not wise, for thinking so.
But Morus keepes his Chamber: There will be,
Morus, one Foole the lesse abroad by Thee.

93. On some faiths.

Some Faiths are like those Mills, that cānot grind
Their Corne, vnles they worke against the Wind:

94. On the Temporizer.

He seemes to be a Man of Warre; His sayle
Being fill'd and prosper'd with a foreright Gale,
Makes speedy way; and, with her Keele, divides
The sparkling furrowes of the swelling Tides;
Or if the winde should slacke, or cease to blow,
Can make a shift to Tide it to and fro;
But if it prove a Storme, or the wind crosse,
His wavering Bottom soone begins to tosse
Vpon the troubled waves, without regard
Of either steare, or yet the seamans Card;
His prouder Courage quailes, & the rough weather
Transports his wandring keel, he knows not whither;

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Till, after many a ruine-threatning knock,
He's overwhelmd or splitt vpon a Rock.

95. On our sins.

It is an Errour even as foule, to call
Our sins too great for pardon, as too small.

96. On the Hypocrite.

Hee's like a Christmas Candle, whose good name
Crowns his faire actions with a glorious flame;
Burnes cleare and bright, and leaves no ground for doubt
To question, but he stincks at going out;
When Death puffs out his Flame, the snuff will tell
If he were Wax, or Tallow, by the smell.

97. On Secret-mungers.

He, that at Secrets, shall compose his aime,
Is like the Flie that sports about the Flame;
He never leaves to buzze, untill he brings
Himselfe to ruine; or at least, his wings:
And like a desp'rate Fly, though he has bin
Once scorcht, hee'l venture at the Flame agin.

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98. On a Flye.

The Sun-delighting Flye repayres, at first,
To the full Cup, only to quench her thirst;
But, oftentimes, she sports about the Brinke,
And sipps so long till she be drownd in drinke:
When wanton leysure shall present thine eye
With lavish Cups, Remember but the Flye.

99. On Scripture and Apocrypha.

When as the Scripture opens to mine eyes,
I see my Lord in's Bed: But when I meet
Th'Apocrypha at th'end, me thinks it lyes,
Like his well countnanc'd Page, at the Beds feet;
Who wears his Lords old Cloths, made lesse; & sayes
His owne Inventions in his Masters Phrase.

100. To my Booke .

Here comes a Criticke; Close thy Page:
Thou art no Subject for this Age:
And censure, oftentimes, yee know,
Will strike the Dove, and spare the Crow:
But hold; Thy Guilt does not require
That thou shouldst lurke, or yet retyre;
Be open as the Eye of Noone:
And let Dogs barke against the Moone:

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Thou hast no Luster of thy owne,
But what's deriv'd from Heav'n alone:
Feare not: Thy Heav'n-instructed Page,
Will either please, or teach the Age.

The end of the second Booke.

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The third Booke.

1. On old Wine and new.

Old crazy Casks are not designd to hold
New-Wines; nor yet new Vessels, for the Old:
Old must, with Old; and new, with new, be filld:
Else will the vessels breake, and Wine be spilld:
These empty Vessels are thy heart and mine;
The Law and Gospell represents the Wine:
The new's the Spirit, and the old's the Letter;
With reverence to the Text, The new's the better.

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2. On Zacharias and the blessed Virgin.

His tongue requir'd a Signe, which might afford
A cleerer Evidence, then the Angels word;
And had it too: Vntill those things shall come
To passe, his faithlesse lips are striken dumb:
Our blessed Virgin, at her Salutation,
Seemd ev'n as faithles, on the selfe same fashion
Her lips reply'd: And how can these things be?
Hard Iustice! why he punisht, and not shee?
The Reason's easie to be riddl'd out;
Hers was the voyce of Wonder; His, of doubt:

3. On a Picture.

Some Pictures, with a fore-right eye, if seene,
Present unto the view some beauteous Queene;
But step aside, and it objects the shape,
On this side, of an Owle; on that, an Ape:
Looke full upon the World, It proves the Story,
And beauteous Picture of th'Almighties Glory;
But if thy change of posture lead thy sight
From the full view, toth' left hand, or the right,
It offers to thine eye, but painted Toyes,
Poore antick Pleasures, and deceitfull Ioyes.

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4. On Servio .

Servio's in Law: If Servio cannot pay
His Lawyers Fee, Servio may lose the day;
No wonder, formall Servio does trudge
So oft to Church: He goes to Bribe his Iudge.

5. On Peters Cocke.

The Cocke crow'd once, And Peters careles eare
Could heare it, but his eye not spend a teare:
The Cocke crow'd twice, Peter began to creepe
To th'Fyer side, but Peter could not weepe:
The Cock crow'd thrice: Our Saviour turnd about,
And look'd on Peter; Now his teares burst out:
'Twas not the Cock; It was our Saviours Eye:
Till he shall give us teares, we cannot crye.

6. On Ambidexter .

God keepe my Goods, my Name, they never fall
Into the Net of Ambidexters Lawes;
But, for a Cause, he seldome prayes at all;
But curses, evermore, without a Cause:
I'de rather have his Curses, all the day,
Then give his Conscience the least cause to pray.

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[7.] On Lazarus, the Damosell, and a sinner.

Laz'rus come forth? why could not Laz'rus plead,
I cannot come, great God, for I am dead:
Dam'sell arise? when Death had closd her eies,
What power had the Damsell to arise?
Sinner repent? Can we as dead, in sin,
As Laz'rus, or the Damsell, live agin?
Admitt we could; could we appoint the hower?
The Voyce that calls, gives, & gives then the power.

8. On Sin.

How, how am I deceiv'd! I thought my bed
Had entertaind a faire, a beauteous Bride:
O, how were my beleeving thoughts misled
To a false Beauty, lying by my side!
Sweet were her Kisses, full of choyce delight;
My Fancy found no differance in the night:
I thought they were true Ioyes, that thus had led
My darkned Soule, But they were false Alarmes;
I thought I'd had faire Rachel in my Bed,
But I had bleare-ey'd Leah in my armes:
How seeming sweet is Sin, whē cloathd with Night;
But, when discover'd, what a loathd delight!

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9. On Repentance.

Tis not, to Cry God mercy, or to sit
And droope; or to confesse, that thou hast faild;
Tis, to bewaile the sinns, thou didst commit,
And not commit those sinns, thou hast bewaild:
He that bewailes, and not forsakes them too,
Confesses, rather, what he meanes to doe.

10. On Man.

Man is a mooving Limbeck, to distill
Sweet smelling Waters; wherewithall to fill
Gods empty Bottle: Lord doe thou inspire
Thy quickning spirit; Put in thy sacred Fire;
And then mine eyes shall never cease to droppe,
Till they have brimd thy Bottle: to the Toppe:
I can doe nothing, Lord, till thou inspire:
I'm a cold Limbeck, but expecting Fire.

11. On the pouring out of our hearts.

Tis easy to poure in: But few, I doubt,
Attaine that curious Art, of pouring out:
Som poure their hearts, like oyle; that there resides
An unctious substance, still, about the sides:
Others, like Wine; which, though the substance passe,
Does leave a kinde of savour in the Glasse;

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Some pour their hearts like Milk, whose hiew distaines,
Though neither Substance, nor the sent remaines:
How shal we poure them, then; that smel, nor matter,
Nor colour stay? Poure out your hearts like water.

1[2]. On Friends.

God shield me from those friends, I trust; & be
My firme defence from such, as trust not Thee.

13. On the Hypocrite.

Hee's like a Bullrush; seems so smooth, that not
The eye of Cato can discry a knot:
Pill out the Barke, and strip his smoother skin,
And thou shalt find him spungie, all within:
His browes are alwayes ponderous as Lead,
He ever droopes, and hangs his velvet head:
He washes often; but, if thou enquire
Into his depth, his rootes are fixt in myre.

14. On Servio .

Servio would thrive; and therefore, do's obay
Gods Law, and shuts up Shop oth' Sabbath day:
Servio would prosper in his home affaires,
And therefore dares not misse his Dyet-Prayres.
Servio must put to Sea, and do's implore;
Toth' end, that he might safely come ashore:

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Servio's in Suit, and therefore must be tyed
To morning prayre, untill his Cause be tryed:
Servio begins to loath a Single life,
And therefore prayes for a high-portion'd Wife:
Servio would faine be thought religious too,
And therefore prayes as the Religious doe:
Servio still prayes for Profit, or Applause;
Servio will seldome pray, without a Cause.

15. On the Devils Master-Piece.

This is the height the Devills Art can show,
To make man proud, because he is not so.

16. On our Saviours Fishing.

When as our blessed Saviour took in hand
To be a Fisher; Mark the rule he keepes;
He first puts off a little from the Land;
And, by degrees, he launchd into the Deepes:
By whose example, our Men fishers hold
The selfe same course; They do the same, or should.

17. On Mans greatest Enemy.

Of all those mortall enemies, that take part
Against my Peace, Lord, keep me frō my Heart.

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18. On the Hypocrite.

Hee's like a Reed, that alwaies does reside,
Like a well planted Tree, by th'water side;
Hee beares no other fruit, but a vaine bragge
Of formall sanctitie; A very Flagge:
Hee's round, and full of substance, to the show;
But hollow hearted, if enquir'd into:
In peacefull seasons, when the weather's faire,
Stands firme; but shakes, with every blast of Aire.

19. On the holy Scriptures.

Why did our blessed Saviour please to breake
His sacred thoughts in Parables; and speake
In darke Enigma's? Who so ere thou be
That findst them so, they were not spoke to Thee:
In what a case is he, that happs to run
Against a post, and cries, How dark's the Sun?
Or he, in Summer, that complaines of Frost?
The Gospell's hid to none, but who are lost:
The Scripture is a Ford, wherein, tis said,
An Elephant shall swim; a Lambe may wade.

20. On Mans heart.

Nature presents my heart in Ore;
Faire civill cariage gilds it o're;

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Which, when th'Almighty shall behold
With a pleas'd eye, he brings to gold:
Thus chang'd, the Temple Ballance weighs it;
If drosse remaine, the Touch bewrayes it;
Afflictions Furnace, then refines it;
Gods holy Spirit stamps and coynes it:
No Coyne so currant; it will goe
For the best Wares, that Heav'n can show.

21. On Drunkennesse.

Most Sins, at least, please Sense; but this is treason
Not only 'gainst the crowne of Sense, but Reason.

22. On a Kisse.

Ere since our Blessed Saviour was betrayd
With a Lip-Kisse, his Vicar is affraid:
Frō whence, perchance, this common use did grow,
To kisse his tother End: I meane his Toe.

23. On the Alchymist.

The patient Alchymist, whose vaine desire,
By Art, is to dissemble natures Fyre,
Imployes his labour, to transmute the old,
And baser substance into perfect Gold:
He laughs at unbeleevers, scornes and flouts
Illiterate Counsell; neither cares, nor doubts:

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Vntill, at length, by his ingenious Itch,
Hee's brought most poore, in seeking to be rich:
Such is the Civill man; that by his even
And levell actions hopes to merit Heaven;
He thinks, by help of Nature, to acquire,
At least to counterfeit the Sacred Fire
Of saving Grace, to purge and to refresh
His base desires, and change his stone, to flesh:
He spurnes at Counsell; He derides and ierks
Those whining Spirits that renounce their works;
Till, too much trusting to their doing well,
In seeking Heav'n, they find the flames of Hell.

24. On the ten Lepers.

Ten Lepers clensed? And but one, of ten
Returne the Clenser thanks? Vngratefull Men!
But Ten i'th' Hundred? 'That's a Gaine that we
Receive or Sue, yet oft deny it Thee.

25. On the last Epigram.

How, how, am I deceiv'd, that speake to thee
Of Intrest, when the purchase was in Fee!
Thou mad'st a cleane Conveyance to the Ten,
And ne're expectd'st the Principall agen:
Lord, we must reckon by another Rate:
They gave not one yeares Purchase for th'Estate:
Lord, how we palter with thee! We pretend
A present Payment, till w'obtaine our End:

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And then we crave, and crave a longer Day,
Then pay in Driblets, or else, never pay.

26. On the Boxe of Oyntment.

It is no wonder, he, above the rest,
Whom thirty pieces tempted to betray
The Lord of Glory to his death, profest
The Boxe of Oyntment was but cast away:
He that dare murther at so small a cost,
May eas'ly thinke the charge in Buriall, lost.

27. On Mary and Ivdas .

Mary did kisse him: Iudas kist him too,
But both their aymes were coverd in a mist;
Both kisse our Saviour; but their kisses doe
Differ as farre, as did the Parts they kist:
There's danger still, where double hearts do steale
The forme of Love, or weare the cloake of Zeale.

28. On our Saviour and his Vicar.

Me thinks thy Vicar Gen'rall beares the Keyes,
And executes thy Place, with greater ease,
And in one Iubile, enioyes more mirth,
Then thou, my dying Lord, didst from thy Birth:
Alas: Thou hadst not, wherewithall to fill
Thy craving stomack: He has Cates at will:

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Thy empty Coffers had not to defray
Thy Tribute charge: To him Kings Tribute pay:
Foxes have holes; Thou hadst not, whereupon
To rest thy wakefull head: He snorts in Downe:
In short; Thy life was nothing but the Story
Of Poverty; and his, of Princely Glory:
When tempting Sathan, would have giv'n thee all
The wealth and glory of the World, to fall
And worship him; at thy refusall, Lord,
Thy Vicar tooke the Tempter at his word;
So came thy wants so great; so great his store;
The Vicar so-so rich; the Lord, so poore.

29. On the great Prelate.

Ovr Saviours Feet were kist: The people doe
The very same to thee, great Prelate, too;
O, who will seale but such another Kisse
Vpon thy Lips, our Saviour had on his!

30. On Idolatry.

Can common madnes find a thing, that's more
Repugnant to the very Lawes of Nature;
That the Creators Image should adore
The senslesse Image of a sensuall creature!
If such be Gods; if such our helpers be,
O, what are Men! How more then Beasts are we!

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31. On the Tables of Stone.

That stony Table could receive the print
Of thy iust Lawes; Thy Lawes were written in't:
It could be hew'd, and letters grav'n thereon;
Sure, Lord, my Heart is harder then that Stone.

32. On Mans three Enemies.

There's three, that with their fiery Darts, do level
Against my Soule; the World; the flesh; the Devil:
Lord, give me patience, if not strength; For there
Are Three t'afflict me; I'm but One, to beare.

33. On Dinah .

When Dinahs careles Eye was grown too lavish
To entertaine, Sechem found time to ravish:
It is no lesse then silent invitation,
Although we scorne the Sin, to give th'occasion:
Sure, Dinahs Resolution was too strong,
Or to admit, or not resist a Wrong,
And scornes to stoope to the Adult'rers armes;
We often burne, intending but to warme's:
She went but out to see; Perchance, to heare
What Lust could say: What harme to lend an eare
Anothers Sin, sometimes, procures our shames:
It staines our Bodies; or, at least, our Names.

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34. On Fido .

Mark, when the good man prospers with his Plot,
Hee's still envy'd; despis'd, if prosper not:
The Wicked have no peace with God; And, then,
How canst thou, Fido, look t'have peace with men?

35. On Iacob .

How Iacob's troop'd: Laban pursues with one
Great Troope; and Esau meets him with another.
Laban resolves to apprehend his Son:
Esau, to be reveng'd upon his Brother:
Me thinks I see how Iacob stands supplide,
Like Vertue, with a Vice on either side:
Laban pursues him, to regaine his Gods:
Esau, t'avenge his Birth-right and his Blessing:
What hope has Iacob now? 'Twixt both, 'tis ods,
There will be either Death or Dispossessing:
God takes delight to turne our helper, then,
When all our helps and hopes are past with men.
Laban encounters Iacob: He requires
His Gods: And Esau's neare at hand, by this:
Laban's appeas'd; and quencht are Esaus Fyres;
T'one leaves him; T'other meets him with a Kisse;
Iacob's in league with both: The Soule that shall
Have peace with God, has League and peace with all.

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36. On Drunkennesse.

It is a Theife; that, oft, before his face,
Steales Man away, and layes a Beast in's place.

37. On a Tenis-court.

Man is a Teniscourt: His Flesh, the Wall:
The Gamsters God, & Sathan: Th'heart's the Ball:
The higher and the lower Hazzards are
Too bold Presumption, and too base Despaire.
The Rackets, which our restlesse Balls make flye,
Adversity, and sweet Prosperity:
The Angels keepe the Court, and marke the place,
Where the Ball fals, and chaulks out ev'ry Chace:
The Line's a Civill life, we often crosse,
Ore which, the Ball not flying, makes a Losse:
Detractors are like Standers-by, that bett
With Charitable men: Our Life's the Sett:
Lord, In this Conflict, in these fierce Assaults,
Laborious Sathan makes a world of Faults;
Forgive them Lord, although he nere implore
For favour: They'l be set upon our score:
O, take the Ball, before it come toth' ground,
For this base Court has many a false Rebound:
Strike, and strike hard, but strike above the Line;
Strike where thou please, so as the Sett be thine.

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38. On Abels Blood.

Abel was silent: But his Blood was strong,
Each drop of guiltles blood commands a tongue;
A tongue, that cryes; 'Tis not a tongue, implores
For gentle Audience, 'Tis a tongue that rores
For hideous Vengeance: 'Tis a tongue that's bold
And full of Courage, and that cannot hold:
O, what a noyse my Blessed Saviours Blood
Makes now in heav'n! how strong it cries! how loud!
But not for Vengeance: From his side, has sprung
A world of drops; From ev'ry drop, a Tongue.

39. On the Memory.

Does thy corrected Frailty still complaine
Of thy disloyall Mem'ry? do'st retaine
Nothing that's Good? And is the better part
Of what thou hear'st, before it warme thy heart,
Snatcht from thy false Remembrance? Is the most
Of what th'inspired Prophets tell thee, lost
In thy unhospitable eares? And not
To be recall'd? Quite buried? Quite forgot?
Feare not: Thou hast a Chanc'lour in thy Brest,
That keepes th'Exehequer, and hoards up the least,
The poorest Summe: No, no, thou needst not feare;
There's nothing will be lost, that's taken there:
Thinkst thou, that thou hast lost that piece of Gold,
That's dropt into a fairer Heape, untold?

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Or canst thou judge that Fier, clos'd about
With rak'd up Embers, 'cause not seene, is out?
Gold, lost in greater summes, is still thine owne;
And rak'd up Embers will, in time, be blowne
To Flames: Beleeve't, the Words thine eares have lost,
Thy heart wil find, when thou shalt need them most.

40. On the Babel-Builders.

Svre, if those Babel-Builders had thought good
To raise their heav'n-high Towre before the flood,
The wiser sort of people might deride
Their Folly, and that Folly'had salv'd their Pride;
Or had their Faiths but enterpriz'd that Plott,
Their hearts had finisht what their hands could not;
'Twas not for love of Heav'n: nor did they ayme
So much to rayse a Building; as a Name:
They that by Works shall seeke to make intrusion
To Heav'n, find nothing but their owne Confusion.

41. On Esav and Iacob .

Esau goes forth; strives, with his owne disquiet,
To purchase Ven'son for his fathers Diet:
Iacob abides at home; and, by his Mother,
Is taught the way, how to supplant his brother:
There's some that hunt, like Esau, sweat and toyle,
And seeke their Blessing by their owne Turmoyle;
Whilst others crave assistance, and bewray
Their wiser weakenes; in a safer Way:

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O, if the Church my Mother will instruct me;
Make savory Meate, and cloath me, then conduct me
Into my Fathers Armes, these hands shall never
Trust to the poorenesse of their owne Endevor:
Bring I a Kid but of my Mothers dressing,
'Twill please my Father, and procure my Blessing.

42. On severall Sinnes

Grosse Sinne

Is like a Show'r, which ere we can get in,
Into our Conscience, wets us to the skin:

Sin of Infirmity

Is like the falling of an April Shower;
'Tis often Raine, and Sun-shine, in an hower.

Sin of Custome

Is a long Showre, beginning with the Light,
Oft-times continuing till the Dead of night.

Sin of Ignorance

It is a hideous Mist, that wetts amaine,
Though it appeare not in the forme of Raine.

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Crying Sin

It is a sudden Showre, that teares in sunder
The Cope of Heav'n, & alway comes with Thunder.

Sin of Delight

Is like a fethered Showre of Snow, not felt,
But soakes toth' very skin, when ere it melt:

Sin of Presumption

Does like a Showre of Hayle, both wet and wound
With sudden Death: or strikes us to the Ground.

The Sin of Sinnes

It is a sulph'rous Shower, such as fell
On Sodom, strikes, and strikes toth' Pit of Hell.

43. On these Showers.

Good God! what Weather's here! These soules of our
Have still the luck to trauell in a Shower:
Lord, we are cold and pitifully drencht;
Not a dry thrid; And all our Fyer's quencht:

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Our very Blood is cold. Our trembling knees
Are mutuall Andvils; Lord, we stand and freeze:
Alas we find small comfort from the Eye
Of Heav'n; These showring clouds, our sins, doe flye
Betwixt the Sun and us: Wee dry no more,
Then if the Sun had giv'n his office o're:
Nay Lord; if now and then those Beames do chance
To breake upon's, and lend a feeble glaunce
Upon our reeking soules, ere we begin
To feele the warmth, w'are dous'd & drencht agin:
In what a case are we! Our nightly damps
And daily storms, have fild our Soules with Cramps,
With wav'ring Palseyes, and our hoarser tongues
Can doe thee service, nor in Prayres, nor Songs:
Our Zeales are Aguish; hot and cold: They be
Extreamly hot toth' World; as cold to Thee?
Our Blood has got a Fever: Lord, it must
Be set on fire with every wanton Lust:
What worlds of Mischiefs are there, that prevaile not
Vpon our fainting Soules? What is't we ayle not,
That Wet and Cold can bring? Yet have no power
To keepe us in, but dable in the Shower:
Shine forth, bright Sun of glory; Be as feirce,
As these eclipsing Clouds are blacke; Disperse
And clear them with thy stronger beams, that thus
Dare interpose betwixt thy Glory'and us:
Reflect on my distempered Soule; Refine
This vap'rous Earth, this sinfull Flesh of mine,
That, tho some Drops must fall, I may have power,
Shelter'd by thee, t'avoyd the down-right Shower;
O let my dabled Spirit still retyre
To thee, and warme her by thy Sacred Fyre;

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That having ravill'd out some weary howers,
She may arrive where's neither Clouds nor Showers.

44. On Dives and Lazarvs .

Did ever Iudge more equally proceed
To punish Sin? so right in kind, and nature?
Poore Laz'rus was refus'd a Crum of Bread;
And Dives was deny'd a Drop of Water:
Children are oftentimes so like the Mother,
That men may eas'ly know the one, by th'other.

45. On two Suitors.

The Soule is like a Virgin; for whose Love
Two jealous Suitors strive: Both daily move
For Nuptiall favour; Both, with Lovers Art,
Plead for the Conquest of the Virgins heart:
The first, approaching, knockt, and knockt agin;
The Doore being op'ned, at his entring in,
He blushd; and (as young bashfull Lovers use)
Is more then halfe discouraged, ere he sues:
At length, that love, that taught him what to feare,
Gave resolution to present her care
With what he hop'd, and in a lovers fashion,
He oft repeats the Story of his Passion:
He vowes his Faith, and the sincere perfection
Of undissembled, and entyre Affection;
He sues for equall mercy from her Eye;
And must have love, or else, for love, must dye:

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His present means were short: He made profession
Of a faire Ioynture, though but small possession:
And in a word, to make his passion good,
He offers to deserve her with his Blood:
The other boldly enters: with the strong
And sweet-lip'd Reth'ricke of a Courtly tongue,
Salutes her gentle eares: His lips discover
The amorous language of a wanton Lover:
He smiles and faunes, and now and then lets flye
Imperious glaunces from his sparkling Eye;
Bribes her more orient Neck with pearl; with charms-
-Enclosing Bracelets decks her yvory Armes;
He boasts th'extent of his Imperiall Power,
And offers Wealth and Glory for a Dower:
Betwixt them both, the Virgin stands perplext;
The first Tale pleas'd her well, untill the next
Was told: She lik'd the one, the other: Loth
To make a choyce: She could affect them Both:
The one was Iocund, full of sprightly mirth:
The other, better borne; of nobler birth:
The second su'de in a compleater fashion;
I, but the first show'd deeper wounds of Passion:
The first was sadly modest: And the last
More rudely pleasant: His faire lookes did cast
More am'rous flames; But yet the tothers eye
Did promise greater Nuptiall Loyalty:
The last's more rich; yet Riches, but for life,
Make a poore Widow, of a happy Wife:
The first's Estate's but small, if not made good
By Death: Faire Ioyntures comfort Widow-hood:
Whō shal this Virgin chuse? Her thoughts approve
The last, for present wealth; the first, for love:

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Both may not be enjoy'd: Her heart must smother
Her love to one, if she affect the other:
Ah, silly Virgin, Is the choyce so hard
In two extreames? Can thy weak thoughts reward
Two so unequall, with a like Respect?
Knowst thou not which to slight, & which t'affect?
Submit to better Iudgement, and advise
With thy best Friend: O trust not thine owne eyes:
This last, that seemes so pleasant, so acute,
Is but a Slave, drest in his Lords old Suite:
He brags of Glory, and of Princely Power,
When he is kickt and baffled every hower:
The Treasure that he boasts is not his owne,
He basely stole it, and the Theft is knowne;
For which, he is arraign'd, condemn'd toth' paines
Of death; His sentence is, to hang in Chaines:
His plott's to bring thee in as deepe as He;
Beleeve't; It is thy Blood he seekes, not Thee:
The Bribes he gave thee, are but stolne: Fond Girle,
Discard those Bracelets, and disclaime that Pearle:
The first, whose oft repeated knocks did crave
Admittance, was the Lord to that base slave:
His Faith is loyall, and as firme his Vow:
To him, his life's not halfe so deare, as thou:
That wealth, that honour, that dissembled power,
That pleasant Pesant offer'd as a Dower,
Is that faire Lords: Nor peace, nor pow'r, nor wealth
Can any challenge from him, but by stealth:
Match there, my Soule, and let thy sacred Vowes
Plight holy Contracts with so sweet a Spouse:
His left hand's full of treasure; and his right,
Of peace, and honour, and unknowne delight:

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Hee'l give thee wealth; and in that wealth, content,
For present means; And (when thy Glasse has spent
Her latest Sand, that Time untransitory
Thy dayes) a Ioynture of Eternall Glory.

46. On the old and new Garment.

New Garments being brought, who is't that wold
Not scorne to live a Pris'ner to the Old?
Yet though our bounteous Saviour, at his cost,
Presents us new, we love the old ones most:
Alas, they pinch us! O, they fit too strait!
They are too combersome! too great a waight!
No, no; the old were too too light, too great;
So we have ease, we care not to be neat:
Like tyred Iades, our better wils repayre
To a foule Stable, then t'a Rode that's faire.

47. On Mans co-operation.

VVe are not Blocks: We must expect the Call;
And, being cal'd, must move, and rise withall:
The Voyce were needlesse, and as good be dumb,
As, with the Call, not give the pow'r to come:
Deserves he food, that thinkes it vaine to gape?
Christ takes his Spouse by Contract, not by Rape.

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48. On the old and new Tables.

The former Tables of the Law were broken,
And left no Monuments of themselves, no token,
No Signe that ever such things were: But marke,
The later were kept holy in the Arke:
Those Tables are our Hearts. Can we be bold
To looke for new, and yet not breake the old?
Or can the ruines of the old find place
In th'Arke of Glory, not repayr'd by Grace?
Dismount, O blessed Moses, and renew
Those Tables thou hast broken, or make new.

49. On a Crucifixe.

Why not the Picture of our dying Lord,
As of a Friend? Nor this, nor that's ador'd:
Does not th'eternall Law command, that thou
Shalt ev'n as well forbeare to make, as bow?
Not to so good an end? T'advance his passion?
The Gold being pure, what matter for the Fashion?
Take heed: The purest gold does often take
Some losse, some prejudice, for the fashion sake:
Not to a Civill end? To garnish Halls?
To deck our windowes? To adorne our Walls?
Shew-bread must not be common: And the Cruse
Of holy Oyle admits no Civill vse:
No, no; the beauty of his Picture lies
Within; Tis th'object of our Faith, not Eyes.

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50. On praying to Saints.

Not pray to Saints? Is not the Warrant ample,
If back't with Scripture? strengthen'd with example?
Did not that sweltring Dives make complaint
For water? was not Abraham a Saint?
Why should reformed Churches then forbid it?
'Tis true: But tell me; What was He, that did it?

51. On Confession.

Experience tels, That Agues are about
To weare away, when as our Lips breake out:
In Spirituall Fevers, there's the same expression
Of Health, when Lips breake forth into Confession:
But mark: These hopefull Symptomes never doe
Confirme the Ague gone, but faire to goe:
They doe not alwayes worke, what they portend;
Confession profits not, unlesse we mend.

52. On Solomons Rejoyce.

Young-man Rejoyce: What jolly mirth is heere?
Let thy heart cheare thee: What delicious Cheare?
In thy young dayes: Thy Cates will relish sweeter:
Walk thy own wayes: Thy Cares wil passe the fleeter:
Please thine own heart: Carve where it likes thee best:
Delight thine eyes: And be a Ioyfull Guest:

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But know withall, The Day will come, whereon
Thy Iudge will doome thee for the deeds th'ast done:
O what a Feast! O what a Reckning's here!
The Cates are sweet; The Shot's extreamly deare:
Lord, I haue been, and am a dayly Guest
(Too oft invited) at the Young-mans Feast:
The Reckning's great; Although I cannot pay,
I can confesse; Great God, before this Day,
I had been dragd to the redeemlesse Iayle,
Hadst thou not pleas'd t'accept my Saviours Baile;
Lord, he must bear't I doubt: For I can get
Nor Coyne to pay, nor labour out the Debt:
I cannot digge, my Ioynts are starke and lame,
But I can begge, although I beg with shame;
I have no Grace in begging; can receive
The first repulse: I have no Faith, to crave:
If th'Entertainments of the Feast be these;
Lord give me Famine; Take the Feast that please.

53. On Bread.

Take up that bitt of Bread: And understand,
What 'tis thou holdest in thy carelesse hand:
Observeit with thy thoughts, and it will reade thee,
An usefull Lecture, ev'n as well as feed thee;
We stirre our Lands, or give directions how;
But God must send a season for the Plough:
We sowe our Seede; But sowe our seed in vaine,
If Heav'n deny the first, the later Raine;
Small proofe in Showrs, if heavn's pleas'd hand shall cease
To bless those Showrs, nor crown thē with encrease:

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The tender Blades appeare, before thine eye,
But, unrefresht by heav'n, as soone they dye:
The infant Eares shoot forth, and now begin
To corne: But God must hold his Mildewes in:
The Harvest's come: But Clouds conspire together
Hands cannot work, til heav'n shal clear the wether:
At length 'tis reap'd: Between the Barne and Furrow
How many Offices poore Man runs thorow!
Now God has done his part: The rest we share
To Man: His providence takes now the care:
No; yet it is not ours: The use alone,
Not bare possession, makes the thing our owne:
Thy swelling Barnes have crownd thy full desire;
But heav'n, when Mows shold sweat, can make them fire;
I, but the Sheaves are thrasht, & the heap lies
In thy full Garnier: He that sent the Flyes
To Pharoes Court, can, with as great an ease,
Send thee more wastfull vermin, if he please:
Perchance 'tis groūded, kneded: And what though?
Gods Curse is often temper'd with the Dough;
Beleeve't the fruits of all thy toyle, is mine,
Vntill they be enjoy'd, as much as thine:
But now t'has fed thee: Is thy soule at rest?
Perchance, thy stomacks dainty to digest:
No, if heav'ns following favour do not last
From the first Furrow to the very Tast,
Thy labour's lost: The Bread of all thy travill,
Without that blessing, feeds no more then Gravill:
Now wastfull Man, thou mayst repose againe
That Modell of Gods Prov'dence and thy paine;
That bitt of Bread; And if thy Dogg shold fawne
Vpon thy lappe, let not so deare a Pawne

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Of greater plenty be contemn'd and lost;
Remember how it came, and what it cost.

54. On Faith and Reason.

True Faith and Reason, are the Soules two Eyes:
Faith evermore lookes upward, and discryes
Objects remote; but Reason can discover
Things onely neere; sees nothing that's above her;
They are not Matches; Often disagree;
And sometimes both are clos'd, and neither see:
Faith viewes the Sun; and Reason, but the shade;
T'one courts the Mistresse; t'other wooes the Maide:
That sees the Fire; This, only but the Flint;
The true-bred Christian alwayes lookes asquint.

55. On Carnall Mirth.

Who seeks to quench by help of Carnall friends,
Those fiery Errants that the Conscience sends,
Redeemes his Peace, but with a further spoyle;
Drinks in a Fever: quenches Fyre with Oyle.
Lord, if thou strike my Conscience; and that, Me:
I will expect, and trust no Friend, but Thee.

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56. On Prayer.

Prayre's like a Vapour fum'd from earth; that flyes
To th'Gates of Heav'n: It never rotts ith' Skyes:
If Faith and it be joyn'd, it will obtaine,
And melt into a first and later Raine;
If Faith forsake her, and they part in sunder,
It falls in Thunderbolts; at least, in Thunder.

57. On Anna .

What faithfull Anna by her Teares had done
Deserv'd the double duty of a Son:
She was a double Parent; pleas'd to doe
A double Office; bore, and got him too:
Thus Samuel was (It was lesse strange then rare)
Borne of her Body, gotten by her Prayre.

58. On a Gift.

No losse to give to thee: The gift is more
Our owne, being giv'n, great God; then 'twas before.

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59. On my selfe.

If Righteous Ely was not vengeance-free,
How shall I scape! He was a Saint, to me:
Nay, Lord, how would my heart & comfort faile,
If I should weigh thy Mercies in our Scale!

60. On Iustification and Sanctification.

Lord, thou hast promis'd, in and for thy Christ,
To sanctifie where ere thou Iustifi'st:
Lord, all my Evils are Iustifi'd in Thee;
Lord, let those Evils be sanctifide to me.

61. On Mans Love.

When think we, Lord, on thee! & when we do,
How feeble are our thoughts, & sinfull too!
How basely doe our crooked Soules engage
Themselves to heav'n? We make thy Glory, Page
To our Salvation: Mans more servile heart
Loves what he'd have thee, Lord; not what thou art:
This is the very best of Man; wherein
W'are apt to think we merit more then Sin.
But, there's a baser Love: Our cheife respects
Have meere relation to our owne Defects;
Like Dogs we fawne upon our Masters Lapps,
With dirty feet, and only love for Scrapps:

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But there's a baser yet: We love for feare,
Finding, like Kain, more then we can beare,
And, were it not for shame, our hearts would be
As warme to Sathan, as, great God, to Thee:
But there's a baser yet: And baser none:
We love thee, to be lov'd of man alone:
We force a Zeale; usurp the name of Pure;
That we may sin more closely, more secure,
Wee love thee only to abuse thee, just
As Whores love Husbands, but to cloke their lust:
How art thou martyr'd in our lustfull Fyres!
How made a Stale to catch our wilde desires!
Lord, I will love as farre as lyes in me,
Thee for thy selfe, and all things else in Thee.

62. On filiall love and servile.

They'r not alike, although alike appeare:
T'one feares for love: The other loves for Feare.

63. On Grapes.

It is receiv'd, That seed of Grapes being sowne,
Brings forth degenerate Clusters, or else none:
But Stocks being grafted prove a fruitfull Vine,
Whose pleasing Berries yeeld a generous wine;
We are thy Vineyard, Lord; These Grapes of our,
By Nature, are degenerous and sower;
But if thou please to graft us, we shall beare
Delicious fruit; which being prest, shall cheare

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The hearts of Angels, and that blessed Trine
Of perfect glory with their sprightly Wine.

64. On Ioy and Griefe.

Lord, if my Griefes were not oppos'd with Ioy
They would destroy:
And if my Mirth were not allayd with Sadnesse,
It would be Madnesse:
While this, with that; or that, with this contends
They're both my Friends;
But when these happy Warres doe chance to cease,
I have no peace:
The more my earthly Passions doe contest,
The more my heavenly' Affections are at rest.

65. On Doves and Serpents.

We must have Doves and Serpents in our heart,
But how they must be marshal'd, there's the Art;
They must agree, and not be farre asunder;
The Dove must hold the wily Serpent under;
Their natures teach what places they must keepe,
The Dove can flye; the Serpent onely creepe.

66. On Christ and our selves.

I wish a greater knowledge, then t'attaine
The knowledge of my selfe: A greater Gaine

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Then to augment my selfe; A greater Treasure
Then to enjoy my selfe; A greater Pleasure
Then to content my selfe: How slight, and vaine
Is all selfe-Knowledge, Pleasure, Treasure, Gaine;
Vnlesse my better knowledge could retrive
My Christ; unles my better Gaine could thrive
In Christ; unles my better Wealth grow rich
In Christ; unles my better Pleasure pitch
On Christ; Or else my Knowledge will proclaime
To my owne heart how ignorant I am:
Or else my Gaine, so ill improv'd, will shame;
My Trade, and shew how much declin'd I am
Or else my Treasure will but blurre my name
With Bankrupt, and divulge how poore I am;
Or else my Pleasures, that so much inflame
My Thoughts, will blabb how full of sores I am:
Lord, keepe me from my Selfe; 'Tis best for me,
Never to owne my Selfe, if not in Thee.

67. On Man.

At our Creation, but the Word was said,
And we were made:
No sooner were, but our false hearts did swell
With Pride, and fell:
How slight is Man! At what an easie cost
Hee's made and lost!

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68. On Death.

VVe all are going to the selfe same Place,
We only differ in our Way, our Pase:
One treads the common Roade of Age: Another
Travels, directed by the hand of's Brother:
Some crosse the Waves, perchance the neerer way;
Some by the winged Shaft that flyes by Day;
Some ride on Feavers; others beat the hoofe,
With horses in their hands, and make a proofe
Of their owne strength; Others more fairely pase
On beds of Downe; some ride a speedy race
On hot-mouthd Surfeits, emulous for the Cup:
Some hotly mounted fiercely gallop up-
On spurgal'd Broyles, whose Frantick motions send
Their hasty spirits to their Iourneyes end:
Some ride upon the racking Steeds of Treasure;
Others false-gallop on the backs of Pleasure:
All Iourney forwards to the selfe-same Place;
Some, the next way; and some, the faster pace:
All post an end; till beaten out of Breath,
They all arrive at the great gates of Death;
Lord, in this common Rode, I doe not care
What pase I travell, so my Way be faire.

69. On the life of Man.

Ovr Life is nothing but a Winters Day;
Some onely breake their Fasts, and so, away:

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Others stay Dinner, and depart full fed;
The deepest Age but supps, and goes to bed:
Hee's most in debt, that lingers out the Day;
Who dyes betimes, has lesse; and lesse to pay.

70. On Gods Image.

It was a dainty Piece! In every part,
Drawne to the Life, and full of curious Art:
It was as like thee as a shadow could
Be like a substance; There was none but would
Have known thee by't: There needed then no name,
No golden Characters, that might proclaime
Whose Picture t'was: The Art was so divine
That very Beasts did reverence it, as thine:
But now, alas, 'tis blurr'd: The best that we
Or they can judge, is this, 'Twas made for thee:
Alas 'tis faded, soyl'd with hourely dust,
Sullyed, and shadow'd with the smoke of Lust;
So swarthy'as if that glorious face of thine
Were tawnyed underneath the torrid Line:
How is thy Picture altred! How ill us'd
By our neglects! How slubberd! How abus'd!
Her Cedar Frame's disioynted, warp'd and broke;
Her curious Tablet's tainted with the smoke:
The Object's both offensive, and the savor;
Retaining neither Beauty, nor thy Favour:
Lord, let not thy displeased eye forsake
Thy handy-worke; for the bad keepers sake:
Behold it still; and what thou seest amisse,
Passe by: Thinke what it was; not what it is:

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What though her beauty, and her colours fade?
Remember; O, 'twas like thee when 'twas made.
There is a great Apelles that can lim
With thy owne Pencill; we have sought to Him:
His skilfull hand will wash off all the soyle,
And clense thy Picture with his sacred Oyle:
Hee'l mak't more faire then 'twas; at least, the same;
Hee'l mend the Tablet, and renew the Frame:
Till then; be pleas'd to let thy Picture be
Acknowledg'd thine: 'Twas made for none but Thee.

71. On the Penny.

He that endur'd the Tyranny of Heate;
The Morning-sorrowes, and the Midday-sweat;
The Evening-toyle, and burthen of the Day,
Had but his promis'd Penny for his pay:
Others, that loyter'd all the Morning; stood
Ith' idle Market, whose unpractis'd blood
Scarse felt the warmth of labour, nor could show
A blush of Action, had his Penny too.
What Wages can we merit, as our owne?
Slaves that are bought with price, can challeng none,
But onely Stripes: Alas, if Servants could
Doe more, then bid, they do but what they should;
When man endeavours, and where heav'n engages
Himselfe by promise, they are Gifts, not Wages,
He must expect: We must not looke t'obtaine
Because we Run; Nor doe we run in vaine:
Our Running showes th'effect, produces none:
The Penny's giv'n alike to every one,

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That works ith'Vineyard: Equall price was shar'd
T'unequall workers: Therefore no Reward:
Lord, set my hands a worke: I will not serve
For Wages, lest thou give what I deserve.

72. On a Christian.

The Generous Christian must as well improve
Ith' quality of the Serpent, as the Dove;
He must be Innocent; affraid, to doe
A wrong; And crafty, to prevent it too:
They must be mixt, and temper'd with true love;
An Ounce of Serpent, serves a Pound of Dove.

73. On Gods Bountie.

God freely gives; as freely we receive;
It is not, Doe; but Ask, and thou shalt have

74. On Sinnes.

My Sinnes are like to Mountaines, that arise
Above the Clouds, & threat the threatning skyes:
Lord, give me Faith; and let that Faith be prov'd,
In leaving not a Mountaine unremoov'd.

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75. On the life of Man.

A thousand yeares, with God (the Scriptures say)
Are reckon'd but a Day;
By which accompt, this measur'd Life of our
Exceeds not much an hower;
The halfe whereof Nature does claime and keepe
As her owne debt for sleepe:
A full sixt part or what remaines, we ryot
In more then needfull Dyet:
Our Infancy, our Child-hood, and the most
Of our greene youth is lost:
The little that is left, we thus divide;
One part to cloathe our Pride,
An other Share we lavishly deboyse
To vaine, or sinfull Ioyes;
If then, at most, the measur'd life of Man
Be counted but a Span,
Being half'd and quarter'd, and disquarter'd thus,
What, what remaines for us?
Lord, if the Totall of our dayes doe come
To so-so poore a summe;
And if our shares so small, so nothing be,
Out of that Nothing, what remaines to Thee?

76. On the Childrens Bread.

Thy strengthning Graces are the Childrens Bread,
Which maks thy thriving Children strong & able;

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Honour, and Riches are the Crumms that feed
The Doggs that lurk beneath their Masters Table:
Lord, if thy gracious pleasure will allow
But Bread, I'm sure, I shall have Crums enow.

77. On Trust and Care.

Ovr Trust in God, for Riches, neither must
Exclude our Care; nor Care exceed our Trust.

78. On Rvscvs .

Illiterate Ruscus heard Pedantius preach;
Admir'd the Church-mans learning, & cōmended
Such things alone, that were above his Reach;
But meanly slighted what he apprehended:
What hinders then to thinke that Ruscus hath
At least the twi-light of a Bastard Faith?

79. On the receiving of the Lords Supper.

Men take the Sacred Seales of their Salvation,
As some doe Physick, not for health, but fashion;
The Day preceding, and the following Day,
There's none so strict; none so reformd as they:
They curb the fury of their wanton Ryot,
And call their Surfeits to a stricter Dyet:
The Time expyr'd, the first Assault that happs,
Prevailes, and strikes them to a worse Relaps;

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Like Doggs to vomits they returne agin,
As though th'ad past a Patent now to sin:
Let such Day-Christians, on the very toppe
Of all their mirth, remember Iudas Soppe.

80. On Faith.

Th'oft shaken Tree growes faster at the root;
And faith's most firm, that's somtimes vrg'd with Doubt.

81. On the Story of Man.

The word was spoke; And what was Nothing, must
Be made a Chaos of confused Dust:
The word was spoke; The Dust began to thicken
To a firme Clay: The Clay began to quicken;
The grosser substance of that Clay thought good
To turne to Flesh; The moyster turn'd to Blood;
Received Organs; and those Organs, Sense;
It was imbellisht with the Excellence
Of Reason: It became the Height of Nature,
Be'ing stampt with th'Image of the great Creator:
But, Lord, that glorious Image is defac'd;
Her Beautye's blasted, and her Tablet's raz'd:
This Height of nature has committed Treason
Against it selfe; Declin'd both Sense and Reason;
Meere Flesh and Blood, containing but a Day
Of painted Pleasure, and but breathing Clay;

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Whose Moysture, dry'd with his own sorrow, must
Resolve, and leave him to his former Dust;
Which Dust, the utter object of our loathing,
Small time consumes, & brings to his first Nothing:
Thus, from this Nothing, from this Dust, began
This Something, turnd to Dust, to Nothing; Man.

82. On Ananias .

The Land was his: The land was his, alone;
'Twas sold; And now the Money was his owne:
The powre remain'd in the Possessors hand,
To keepe his money, or have kept his Land:
But once devoted to the Churches good,
And then conceald, it cost his life, his blood:
If those that give, may not resume agin,
Without a Punishment, without a Sin,
What shall become of those, whose unjust power
Dispoyles the widdowed Temple of her Dower:
Who take her Profits, and in stead of giving
Encrease to her revennues, make a living
Vpon her Ruines, growing plump and full
Vpon her Wants, being cloathed in her Wooll;
While she sustains th'extremes of cold and hunger,
To pamper up the fat Advousion-monger;
Who thrust their Flesh-hooks in their thrifty Pot,
And only leave her what they value not:
The whilst her sacred Priests, that dayly tread
Their slighted Corne, must begge their early Bread;
Or else, be forc'd to purchase easie shares
With the deare price of their ungranted Prayres:

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Let such turne backe their sacrilegious eyes,
And see how breathlesse Ananias lyes:
Behold the Wages that his sin procures,
That was a Mole-hill, to these Alpes of yours:
He tooke not from the Church: Did but conceale
Some part he gave; But your false fingers steale
Her maine Inheritance, her owne Possession;
His was but bare deceipt; yours bold Oppression:
O, if no lesse then the first death was due
To him, what death d'ye think's prepar'd for you?
So often as your pamper'd Eyes shall looke
On your Estates, think on the Flying Booke.

83. On pious Vses.

They that, in life, oppresse, and then bequeath
Their Goods to pious uses at their death,
Are like those Drunkards, being layd to sleepe,
That belch and vomit what they cannot keepe:
To Gods and Mans acceptance, I presume
Their severall Actions send the like perfume.

84. On Sophronia .

The chast Sophronia knowes not how to scape
Th'inevitable danger of a Rape;
Cruell Sophronia drawes her hasty knife
And would relieve her Chastity with life:
Doubtfull Sophronia knowes not what to doe,
She cannot keepe the one, and to'ther too:

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Sophronia's in a strait; One eyeis fixt
O'th' seventh Commandment; t'other, on the sixt;
To what Extreames is poore Sophronia driven!
Is not Sophronia left at Sixe and Seaven?

58. On the knowning Man.

Hee's llike a lusty Soyle, whose Moysture feeds,
If not a world of Corne, a world of Weeds.

86. On Romes pardon.

If Rome could pardon sins, as Romans hold,
And if such Pardons might be bought for Gold,
An easie Iudgement might determine which
To choose; To be religious, or else rich;
Nay Rome does pardon: Pardons may be sold;
Wee'l search no Scriptures; But the Mines, for Gold.

87. On the world.

The World, compos'd of heaven & earth,'s the story
Of Gods Eternall, and Mans Temp'rall Glory.

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88. On formall Devotion.

Men doe God Service with the same devotion,
As the foule Body takes his loathed Potion:
They stay and stay; then gulp it downe in hast,
Not for the pleasure, but to have it past;
Whose druggy Tast goes so against their minde;
That, oft, the better part is left behind;
And what is taken, 's taken but in vaine;
It either works not; or comes up againe.

89. On heavenly Manna.

O what a world of heav'nly Manna falls
Within the Circuit of our happy Walls!
With how great Ioy wold neighb'ring lands receive
The Fragments of those Fragments, that we leave!
Our furnisht Markets flourish all the yeare:
We need noe Ephaths, nor yet Omers here:
We take, unmeasur'd, from the bounteous heape;
Thanks neuer were so deare; not that, so cheape:
We never hoard, but tosse from hand to hand,
As if that Famine had forsworne the Land;
Our satiate stomacks are so lavish fed,
That we ev'n slight, and wanton with our Bread:
Ah Lord! I feare when carelesse children play
With their spoyld Bread, 'tis time to take away.

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90. On naturall Sins.

To murther Parents, or our selves, has bin,
Though falsly, counted an unnaturall Sin:
By Nature, we are apt to fall intoo't;
I rather think't unnaturall not to doe't:
If heav'n should but forsake us, 'twere agin
The very course of Nature, not to sin.

91. On the Arke.

If Flouds of Teares shold drown my world of Sin,
Alas, my floating Arke retaines, within,
A cursed Cham to store the World agin:
What then? so long as holy Sem vouchsafeth
But to divide a Tent with bashfull Iapheth.

92. On Sophronia .

Sophronia chooses rather to commit
Selfe-murther, then by violence, to submit
Her ventur'd honor to th'injurious trust
Of the eye-sparkling Tyrants furious Lust:
What means Sophronia? Dare her conscience frame,
To act a Sinne, but to prevent a Shame?

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93. On a faire Prospect.

Looke up; And there, I see the faire abode
And glorious Mansion of my gracious God:
Looke downe; In ev'ry garnisht corner lyes
Favours objected to my wondring eyes:
Looke on my right hand; There, the sweet encrease
Of Ioyes present me with a ioyfull Peace:
Looke on my left hand; There, my Fathers Rod
Sublimes my knowledge, from my selfe, to God:
Looke foreward; There, I see the lively Story
Of Faiths improvement and of future Glory:
Looke backward; There, my thankfull eye is cast
On Sinnes remitted, and on Dangers past:
Looke inwards; And mine eye is made partaker
Of the faire Image of my glorious Maker:
Looke up; or downe; About, above, or under;
Nothing but Obiects of true Love and wonder.

94. A Resolution.

If thou hast giv'n me Wealth, great God, I crave
Content; and Grace to have the goods I have;
If otherwise; thy will be done: I crave not
So much, to have, as use the goods I have not:
Lord, make me Thine: And then I shall appeare,
If not thy Almner, yet thy Beads-man, here.

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95. On the worlds welcome.

Earth's Entertainments are like those of Iael;
Her left hand brings me Milke; Her right, a nayle.

96. On our Meditation upon God.

When thy ambitious knowledge wold attempt
So high a Taske as God, she must exempt
All carnall sense; Thy Reason must release
Her pow'r; Thy Fancy must be bound toth' peace;
Thy Spirits must be rapt; They must exile
Thy flesh, and keepe a Sabbath for a while;
Thou must forget thy selfe, and take strong Bands
Of thy owne Thoughts, and shake eternall hands
With thy rebellious Lusts; discard and cleare
Thy heart of all Idea's; Then, with Feare,
And holy Reverence, thou must thinke of One,
As though he were not to be thought upon:
Conceive a Spirituall, a most perfect Being,
Pure, Simple; At the selfe same instant, seeing
Things Present, Past, and Future; One, whose might,
Whose Wisedome, Iustice, Mercy, (in a height
Above Exceeding) is Himselfe; being Great
Without a Quantity, and most Compleat,
Without Degrees; Eternall without space
Of time: At all times Present, without Place:
Think thus: And whē thy thoughts can sore no higher,
Stay there, Stand humbly silent, and admire.

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97. On Faith.

He that wants Faith, and apprehends a Griefe
Because he wants it, hath a true Beliefe:
And he that grieves, because his griefe's so small,
H'as a true Griefe, and the best Faith of all.

98. On Mans folly.

Ideots , and Sense-bound Lunaticks discerne
'Twixt Salt and Suger; very Babes will learne
To know a Counter from the currant Coyne;
Bruit Beasts, by 'Instinct of Nature, will decline
Th'alluring Bait, and sense-beguiling Snare;
Though that seeme nere so sweet; this, nere so faire:
Yet Man, heavn's greatest Master-piece will chuse,
What Fooles, and Mad-men, Beasts, and Babes refuse;
Delights in dangerous Pleasures, and beneath
The name of Ioyes, pleases himselfe to death.

99. On Glorie.

That Saint, in Heav'n, whose Glory is the least,
Has ev'n as perfect Glory, as the best:
There's no Degrees, but in a finite Treasure:
No difference 'twixt Pauls glory' & mine, but measure.

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100. On Reward.

When holy Scriptures mention the Rewarding
Of works, we read not, For; but stil According.

The end of the third Booke.

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The fourth Booke.

1. A good Morrow.

Tis day: Vnfold thine Armes; Arise, and rouze
Thy leaden Spirits, and pay thy Morning Vowes;
Send up thy Incense; Let her early smoke
Renew that League thy very dreames have broke;
Then mayst thou worke or play; Nothing shall be
Displeasing to thy God, that pleases thee.

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2. A Good-night.

Close now thine eyes, and rest secure;
Thy Soule is safe enough; thy Body sure;
He that loves thee, he that keepes
And guards thee, never slumbers, never sleepes.
The smiling Conscience in a sleeping brest
Has only peace, has onely rest:
The musicke and the mirth of Kings,
Are all but very Discords, when she sings:
Then close thine Eyes and rest secure;
No Sleepe so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.

3. On a Printing-house.

The world's a Printing-house: our words, our thoughts
Our deeds, are Characters of sev'rall sizes:
Each Soule is a Compos'ter; of whose faults
The Levits are Correctors: Heav'n revises;
Death is the common Press; frō whence, being driven,
W'are gatherd Sheet by Sheet, & bound for Heaven.

4. A Dialogue, betweene Gabriel and Mary .

Gabriel.
Haile blessed Mary:

Ma.
What celestial tongue
Cals sinfull Mary blessed?

Gab:
It is I:

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Ma:
Who art thou?

Ga:
I am Gabriel that belong
To the high Quire of Heaven:

Ma:
I faint, I dye:

Ga:
Feare not sweet Virgin; all the Earth shall be
Made debters to thy Womb, and blest in Thee.

Ma:
How Lord?

Ga:
Thy Virgin-womb shal beare a Son
That shal redeem the world.

Ma:
My Lord, how can
Such wonders come to passe; such things be done
By a poore Virgin, never knowne by Man?

Ga:
The holy Ghost, at his appointed howre,
Shall make thee pregnant by his sacred powre:

Ma:
Wonder of wonders!

Ga:
At whose height the Quire
Of heav'n stand ravisht, tremble, & admire.

Ma:
O may it be according to thy Word:

Ga:
Before that twice five Moons compleated be
Thou shalt be knowne the Mother of our Lord,
And thou shalt dance thy Saviour on thy knee.

Ma:
Both heav'n & earth shal triumph, & the frame
Of hell shall tremble at Maria's name:

Ga:
All Ages past, and present, and to come,
Shall joy in Mary, and in Marye's Wombe.

5. On Rhemvs .

If Heav'n would please to purge thy Soule as well
As Rome thy purse, thou needst not feare a Hell.

6. On the life of Man.

Mans day's a Song, compos'd by th'great Musition,
Full of harmonious Ayres and dainty choyce;

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But spoyld with Discords, and too much Division;
Abus'd and lost for want of skill, and voyce:
We misse our Rests, and we neglect our Graces;
Our life the Trebble, and our death the Base is:

7. On Mary .

Foure Marye's are eternizd for their worth;
Our Saviour found out three, our Charls, the fourth.

8. On the Church.

Let not thy blacknesse move thee to despaire;
Black Women are belov'd of men that's faire:
What if thy hayre her flaxen brightnes lack?
Thy face is comely, though thy Brow be black

9. On the two Essences.

Gods sacred Essence represents the bright
And glorious body of the greater light:
'Tis perfect; hath a Being of her owne,
Giving to all, receiving light from none:
Mans Essence represents the borrowed light
And feeble luster of the Lampe of night:
Her Rayes are faint, and her Reflection thin,
Distaind with nat'rall blemishes within;
Inconstant, various; having, of her owne,
No light at all; or light, as good as none:

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When too much earth shall interpose, and slipps
Betwixt these Lights, our Soules are in th'Eclips.

10. On our Saviours Passion.

The earth did tremble; and heav'ns closed eye
Was loth to see the Lord of Glory dye:
The Skyes were clad in mourning, & the Spheares
Forgat their harmony; The Clouds dropt teares:
Th'ambitious Dead arose to give him roome;
And ev'ry Grave did gape to be his Tombe;
Th'affrighted heav'ns sent down elegious Thunder;
The Worlds Foundation loos'd, to lose their Founder;
Th'impatient Temple rent her Vaile in two,
To teach our hearts what our sad hearts should do:
Shall senslesse things doe this, and shall not I
Melt one poore drop to see my Saviour dye?
Drill forth my Teares; and trickle one by one,
Till you have peirc'd this heart of mine, this Stone.

11. On Peter .

What luck had Peter! For he tooke a Fish
That stor'd his purse, as well as fill'd his dish;
Whose bounty did inrich, as well as feed him;
But they are better Fishers that succeed him:
He catcht by chance: These catch the like by skill:
He catcht but once: These catch them whē they will:
They cast their Angles into better Seas;
Their bayts are only for such Fish as these:

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Brave sport, and full of curious pleasure! Come,
There is no Fishing to the Sea—of Rome.

12. On Herodias .

I'le tell thee, Light-skirts, whosoever taught
Thy feet to dance, thy dancing had a Fault:
Thou'lt find it deare, Herodias, if thou do'st
Compare thy pen'worth with the price it cost.

13. On Faith and Hope.

How much the stronger, Hopes on life relye,
So much the weaker is my Faith, to dye.

14. On Water and Wine.

The happy diff'rence and sweet change of life,
When a chast Virgin turnes a loyall Wife,
Our blessed Lord, in Cana did divine,
And turnd cold Water into lusty Wine.

15. On Age.

How fresh blood dotes! O how green Youth delires?
It most disdaines the thing it most desires.

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16. On a Figg-tree.

A christian's like a Figg-tree, that does beare
Fruit, greene, or ripe, or blossomes all the yeare.
No wonder then, our Saviour curs't that Tree;
Figg-trees are alwayes dead, where no Figgs be.

17. On Rhemvs .

Rhemus , upon a time I heard thee tell,
A Wall divideth Purgatory and Hell;
And that a gold-bought Masse will cleare th'offence
That brought us thither, and redeeme us thence:
Ah Rhemus, what demented Soule would spare
To ruine Wife, or to dis-land an Heyre,
Rather then feele such torments, you pretend,
That equall Hell in all but Time, and end?
Ah Rhemus, If the power of Gold be such,
How dare you be so bold to dye so rich!

18. On Iacob .

Nere boast thy Bargaine, Iacob: For poore we
Have made a better contract far, then thee:
We envy not his Land thou didst inherit;
Our Brother tooke our Flesh; gave us his Spirit.

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19. On Simon Magvs .

Simon , bring Gold enough; and I will tell thee,
Wher thou shalt buy what Peter wold not sel thee:
Repaire to his Successors; They are free
And frolick Gamsters; not so strict as Hee:
Nay, if thy Gold be weake, they will not stand
To sell good Pen'worths at the second hand:
They'l sell good cheape, but they'l not give to any;
No Pater-noster where there is no Penny:
No, if thy purse be like an empty Shell,
They will not give, what Peter would not sell.

20. On the Bishop of Rome.

Admit, great Prelat, that thou wert that Rock
Wheron the Church was founded; coldst unlock
The gates of Heav'n; and, with thy golden Key,
Make Hel thy Pris'ner, and the Fiends obey,
Thy Papall dignity would far be greater,
If thou wert Simon, but as well as Peter.

21. On Milo .

Do; strive to enter Milo, though the Gate
Be narrow, and the rugged passage straight;
Lessen thy selfe, and fast thy carkas thin;
Take in thy Flesh, 'twill get thee easier in:

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Look up to heav'n, twill raise thy body' uprighter;
Give lib'rall alms, twil make thee tread the lighter:
Sweat forth thy base corruptions, and inherit
Thy promis'd Crowne, halfe lost for want of spirit;
Let not thy dastard, and dull thoughts disdaine
Those works which cold despaire mistakes, as vaine;
Take heed; Let not thy queazy Soule repine
Against those Actions which are none of thine:
Heav'n bids thee shine; what if thy Rayes be dim,
Doe thou thy best; leave the successe to Him:
Follow thy Worke; And when thy Soule shall be
Gather'd from hence, thy Works shall follow thee.

22. On Rome.

Good Works abound in Rome: 'Tis well they doe,
'Tis the best string they chalenge to their Bow:
But ev'ry Hee's no Monck, that weares a Hood,
'Tis well, if they'r well done, as well as good:
When wandring Passengers have lost their way,
No sort of men that ride so fast as they.

23. On three dayes and nights.

Thou knowst our dying Saviour did repose
On Friday; On the Sabbath, he arose;
Tell me, by what account can he be said
To lodge three dayes and nights among the dead?
He dyde for all the Word: what wanted here,
Was full supply'd in t'other Hemisphere.

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24. On Tobits Dogge.

What luck had Tobits dog! what grace! what glory
Thus to be Kenel'd in th'Eternall Story!
Vntill th'Apocrypha and Scripture sever,
The mem'ry of Tobits dogg shall live for ever.

25. On the Gospell.

VVhen two Evangelists shall seeme to vary
In one discourse, they'r divers, not contrary;
One Truth doth guide them both; One spirit doth
Direct them; doubt not, to beleeve them both.

26. On Servio .

Servio , 'Tis scarcely worth thy paines, to smother
Or to subdue one Sin, and hugge another:
Beleeve it Servio, he that is in thrall
To one, is a potentiall Slave to all.

27. On Formio .

Formio will keepe the Sabbath, read and pray,
His lips are seal'd from oaths upon that day;
Formio is clad in black, and will absent
His fleshly thoughts, this holy time of Lent.

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Thinkst thou that Formio's shaken hands with Sin?
No, tis but giving hands to meet agin.

27. On Iohn and Iesvs .

Iohn was the Morning-starre that did fore-run
The long-wisht rising of our Glorious Sun:
The first word that Iohns preaching lips expressed
Was this, Repent: Our Saviours first, was, Blessed:
Iohn makes th'incision; Iesus makes it sound;
Iesus nere cures, where Iohn ne're made a wound.

29. On dis-possessing.

We read, A broyled Fishes heart will scare
A frighted Divel from a troubled brest:
We read againe, By Fasting, and by Prayre
The fierce Demoniack's only dispossest:
What this affirmes, that flatly does denye;
With reverence to the Text, The t'one's a Lye.

30. On Herodias .

I have a young Herodias lives within me,
That never leaves to dance, untill she win me
To grant her Suit; will never cease to plead
Vntill I give her my Iohn Baptists head:
O then my sorrow would be past her date,
And I, like Herod, should repent too late.

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31. On Malfido .

Sathans Injections are like Weeds that fall
Into thy Garden, darted ore the Wall,
Whose loathsom smel unscent thy sweeter Flowr's;
But grow not there, unles we make them ours:
They'l dye, neglected: If thou lend them roome,
They'l stink; But eas'ly thrown from whence they come:
Feare not, Malfido; those they be that spoyle
Thy Flow'rs, that suck their substance from the soyle.

32. On Slanders.

When undeserv'd report distaines my name,
It shames not, but perchāce prevents a Shame.

33. On Law and Gospell.

The Law is rough; The Gospell milde and calme;
That launc'd the Bile; & this powres in the Balme.

34. On a bosome Sin.

That Sin that finds more credit then the rest,
That is thy Darling, leanes upon thy brest;
That, in the Bosome of thy heart does lye;
That dips within thy dish, Sayes, Is it I?

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That gives thee kisses; that's the Sin that slayes thee,
O that, O that's the Iudas, that betrayes thee.

35. On the World.

The World's a Booke, writ by th'eternall Art,
Of the great Maker, printed in Mans heart;
'Tis falsly printed, though divinely pend,
And all th'Erratas will appeare at th'end.

36. On my Soule.

My weather-beaten Soule long time has bin
Becalm'd, and tiding in the Sea of Sin;
But now Afflictions Storme does drive and tosse
Her batterd Keele: The wind is loud and crosse:
Feare fills her tatterd Sailes, & doubts doe drive her,
She knowes not where; & of all hopes deprive her:
Thus, thus transported by the troubled Ayre
Amongst the swallowing Quick-sands of despaire,
If not prevented by a greater power,
She looks for wreck and ruine ev'ry hower;
O, that mine Eyes could raine a Showre of Teares,
That, that would lay the Storme of all my Feares.

37. On the Cuckoe.

The idle Cuckoe, having made a Feast
On Sparrowes Eggs, layes downe her owne i'th' Nest;

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The silly Bird she ownes it, hatches, feeds it;
Protects it from the weather, clocks and breeds it;
It neither wants repose nor yet repast,
And joyes to see her Chicken thrive so fast:
But when this gaping Monster has found strength
To shift without a helper, she at length
Nor caring for that tender care that bred her,
Forgets her parent, kills the Bird that fed her:
The Sin we foster in our bosome, thus
Ere we have left to feed it, feeds on vs.

38. On Tobit .

Was it not time to send his sonne to Rages,
For mony, whē his wife spun hard for wages?
Was't not high time for him to post away,
That for an Angell paid a Groat a day?

39. On David .

Who ever sung so high; so rapt an Io
As David prompted by heroick Clio?
But when thy more divine Vrania sung,
What glorious Angell had so sweet a tongue?
But when Melpomene began to sing,
Each word's a Rapture, or some higher thing:
Sweet were thy triumphs; sweet those joyes of thine;
O, but thy Teares were more then most Divine.

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40. On a Monument.

Seest thou that Mon'ment? Dost thou see how Art
Does polish Nature to adorne each part
Of that rare Worke, whose glorious Fabricke may
Commend her beauty to an after day?
Is't not a dainty Peece? And apt to raise
A rare advantage to the Makers praise?
But knowst thou what this dainty Peece encloses?
Beneath this glorious Marble there reposes
A noysome putrid Carkas, halfe devour'd
By crawling Caniballs, disguiz'd, deflour'd
With loath'd Corruption, whose consuming sent
Would poyson Thoughts, although it have no vent:
Ev'n such a Peece art thou, who ere thou be
That readst these Lines: This Monument is Thee:
Thy Body is a Fabricke, wherein Nature
And Art conspire to heighten up a Creature
To summe Perfection, being a living Story
And rare Abridgement of his Makers Glory;
But full of lothsome filth, and nasty mire
Of lust, vncurb'd Affections, base desire;
Curious without, but most corrupt within;
A glorious Monument of inglorious Sin.

41. On Plavsvs .

Plausus has built a Church: And lest his Glory
Should dye, has boasted his vain glorious Story

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Vpon the painted Wall, and built to Fame
A large Memoriall of his doubtfull Name:
Plausus, 'tis bravely done; Thy Deeds make knowne
Thou either seekst Gods glory, or thy owne.

42. On Censorio .

Thou blam'st the Age, cōdemns the dayes of crimes;
If thou wouldst mend thy Faults 'twould mend the Times.

43. On fooles of both kinds.

Some scorne the Cross, whilst others fall before it;
Some sit and take the Bread, and some adore it;
Some are too bold, and others too too nice;
Fooles act a Sin whilst they decline a Vice.

44. On the name of Iesvs .

It is the common course of man to double
The name of Iesus in the times of Trouble:
The name of Lord is not a stile to please us;
Iesu's no Lord with us; if Lord, no Iesus.

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45. On the Woman with the Issue.

How could thy Soule, fond Woman, be assur'd
Thy long disease could be so eas'ly cur'd?
What? coldst thou think the touch of cloth was good
To dry the Fountaine of thy flowing Blood?
Or was't because our blessed Saviour wore it?
Or why? I read not, that thou didst adore it:
He nere so much as ownd thee, Woman: Sure,
Thy Faith, and not his Garments wrought the Cure.

46. On our Redemption.

We were created at a Word, a Breath;
Redeemed with no lesse then Blood & Death
How much a greater labour is it, than,
To wash a Sinner, then to make a Man!

47. On Gods Arme.

Twas not, that he was weake; or thou so strong;
He dy'd so soone, or that thou liv'dst so long:
The headstrong Oxe is haled to the slaughter,
When the poore worm crawls many a Summer after:
When Heav'ns victorious arme shal please to strike,
The Gyant and the Pigmey are alike.

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48. On our blessed Saviour.

O thou that wert the King of heav'n and earth,
How poorely wert thou'attended at thy Birth!
A Manger was thy Cradle, And a Stable
Thy Privy-chamber, Marye's knees thy Table;
Thieves were thy Courtiers, & the Cross, thy Throne;
Thy Dyet, Gall; A wreath of Thornes, thy Crowne:
All this, the King of Glory' endur'd, and more,
To make vs Kings that were but Slaves before.

49. On Cordvplo .

Keepe in thy Actions, and maintaine the Fences
Of thy clos'd lipps, Corduplo, and thy Senses;
Thou shalt deceive both Man and Devill too,
And mayst be damn'd, and yet they never know;
The Devils power of knowledge never delves
Into our hearts, till we proclaime our selves.

50. On Dreames.

Who dreams a Sin, & not his dreams forbid it
An entertainment, sins as if he did it;
Which if thy slumbring Soule could not prevent,
Th'art safe, if thou hast dreamd thou didst repent.

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51. On Adam .

How soon, poore Adam, was thy Freedome lost!
Forfeit to death ere thou hadst time to boast;
Before thy Triumph, was thy Glory done,
Betwixt a rising and a setting Sun:
How soon that ends, that should have ended never!
Thine eyes nere slept, untill they slept for ever.

52. On Sins and Blessings.

We write thy common Blessings, Lord, upon
A sliding streame; no sooner writ, but gon:
Thy more illustrious Favors we entrust
To the dry Sand, defac'd with ev'ry Gust:
But, Lord, our Scrowle of Sins are written downe
On during Marble, or some harder stone;
And our extreame mis-doings are thought good
To be inscrib'd, like Draco's Lawes, in blood:
Lord, let us change our Tables, or our Story,
And we shall have more Comfort; Thou, more Glory.

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53. On Celia .

Celia complaines, her Heart cannot be well;
Nor will not, Celia, till it cease to swell:
'Tis too-too proud with blood, perverse and stout;
It must be launc'd to let the humour out:
Alas no launce can pierce it; It is growne
More hard then Raunce, or th'Adamantine stone:
Then Celia, like an Adamant, thou must
Make the incision with her owne made dust.

54. On Pvsillvs .

Pvsillus can be jocund, never whines
When he is full, but still, in want, repines;
And, like a bad-nos'd hound, that hunts not true,
Hee's at a Fault, if not the Game in view:
Be well advis'd Pusillus; Heav'n may chance
To pipe no more, if thou give ore to dance.

55. On Beliefe.

The Divels doe beleeve: I know they doe;
But their Beliefe does make them tremble too.

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57. On Crastinio .

Past time is gone; the Future is to be;
Crastinio, say, which most belongs to thee?
The first, thou further goest and further from;
And thou mayst dye before the last shall come:
The first, Crastinio's now growne out of date,
Perchance the last may come, but come too late:
The last's uncertaine, and the first is gone,
The present then Crastinio's thine, or none.

58. On an Hower-glasse.

Mans life is like an Hower-glasse, wherein
Each severall sand that passes is a Sin;
And when the latest sand is spent and run;
Our Sinnes are finisht, as our lives are done.

59. On Kain .

Kain , 'tis true: It was, and did appeare
A Punishment too great for thee to beare:
If thou hadst had a Faith, and couldst have bin
As much opprest and loaded with thy Sin,
Thy greater patience either might out-worne it,
Or found more able Shoulders to have borne it.

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59. On Ticio .

Ticio stands gaping for the clouded Sun
To be informd how fast the howers run:
Ah, foolish Ticio, art thou sound in minde,
To lose by seeking, what thou seekst to finde?

60. On Sortio .

Sortio , that makst a Trade of gaming, know
Thou breakst two great cōmand'ments at a throw:
The third thou break'st by thy abuse of Lott;
Thou breakst the Tenth, that bids thee Covet not:
Now tell me, Sortio, whether sins most high,
He that playes faire, or he that helps a Die?

61. On Raymond Sebvnd .

Honour to high-brain'd Raymond, And no lesse
To thy renowned Scholler, great Du Plesse:
Your high attempts object to our dull Sight
The God of Nature, by dull Natures Light:
But what has Raymond, and Du Plessis done?
They light but two bright Tapers to the Sun.

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62. To Henry Earle of Holland .

Tis not the Sun-shine of great Cesars Eye,
Nor our Opinion makes thy Honour flye
So faire a pitch; Nor need thy Glory claime
Assistance from thy Blood, t'enrich thy Name:
But what it is that mounts thee up so high,
The World shall tell thee, Henry, and not I:
Blood gives no Vertue; nor Opinion, Glory;
And Princely Favors are but Transitory;
Heav'ns Act is mingled with great Cesars Eye:
Heav'n gave thee wings, and Cesar bids thee flye.

63. On Drunkards and Idolaters.

Which is the greater Sin, and which the lesse?
Which finds the sharper? which the milder Rod?
To turne Gods glorious Image to a Beast,
Or turne the Image of a Beast to God?
Thrice happy is that soule, and more then thrice,
That buyes no knowledge at so deare a price.

64. On dying.

He that would dye once well, must often trye;
Practice does bring perfection how to dye:
The Law's our Tutor; and the World our Schoole,
Wherein w'are taught by'example, as by Rule:

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The Rod's Affliction, which being laid away,
The Gospell comes, and begs us leave to play.

65. On Ravens and Lillies.

Are not the Ravens, great God, sustaind by Thee?
And wilt thou cloth the Lilyes, and not me?
I'le nere distrust my God, for Cloath, & Bread,
Whilst Lilyes flourish, and the Ravens be fed.

66. On degrees of Sin.

Cvrses proportion to the Sins degree:
Adam had one; Eve, two; the Serpent, three.

67. A last Will.

My Life's my dying day; wherein I, still,
Am making, alter, and correct my Will:
My Soule I doe bequeath to God, provided,
Some smaller Legacies may be divided
Among my Friends: Item, my Sins I give
To my deare Iesus, whether dye or live:
Item, I give the World, that did refresh
The tender frailty of my feeble Flesh,
My lesser Cares: I doe bequeath moreover,
To my poore body, home-spun cloth, to cover
And hide her shame, & Food for needfull diet;
Some Sleepe, but not immoderate, to quiet

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Distemper'd Nature, and in her Vacation,
Some lawfull Pleasures for her Recreation;
My Charity, to my poore helples brother,
I give; my Prayres to the true Church my Mother;
Whose watchfull eyes I must desier, still,
To be the Over-seers of my Will.

68. On our Iesvs .

Hee's like a Rock, which when we strive to shun
We are in danger to be wreckt vpon;
But when our wide-spred Armes seek Refuge there,
It will secure us from the harmes we feare.

69. To King Charles .

The Common-wealth is like an Instrument;
The divers sorts of people represent
The strings, all diffring in degrees, in places;
Some trebles, and some Meanes, and some are Bases:
The potent Rulers the Musitians are;
The musicke, sometimes peace; and somtimes warre;
The Lawes are like the Ruled Bookes that lye
Before their eyes, and which they practice by:
Play on great Charles; Heav'n make thy strings as strong,
And true, as thou art skilfull: Ravish long
The worlds wide eares, with thy diviner Ayres,
That whosoever to thy Land repayres,
May thence returne amazd, and tell the Story
Of Brittains Triumph, in great Charles his Glory.

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70. A Riddle.

The Goods we spend we keepe; and what we save,
We lose; and only what we lose, we have.

71. On Glorioso .

Nere vaunt, Glorioso, that thou oft reliev'st
The poore; Glorioso, tis not thine, thou giv'st:
Boast what's thy own; Thou art the poor mans Sive;
Thy wealth was giv'n thee, with a Clause, to give;
Put case it were thy owne thou gav'st; what then?
Thy owne Applause hath paid thy own agen.

72. On Ivdas .

Two hundred pence! What's that to thee? But say
That so much Oyntment had beene cast away;
The coyne that paid for't, Iudas, was not thine;
O Iudas, that's the cause thou didst repine.

73. On Impropriator .

Lord, how he swells! as if he had, at least,
A Common-wéath reposed in his brest:
A Common-wealth? Twas shrewdly guest, I tell ye;
He has a Leash of Churches in his Belly.

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74. On the same.

[Prodigious Stomacke! what a cruell deale]

Prodigious Stomacke! what a cruell deale
It can devoure! whole Churches at a meale:
'Tis very strange that Nature should deliver
So good a Stomacke to so bad a Liver.

75. On Lvcro .

Lvcro , it is beleev'd, thy Conscience, either
Is very wide, or made of stretching leather:
Me thinkes thy Conscience rather seemes too small;
So farre from large, I feare th'ast none at all.

76. To God .

If thou shouldst strike a blow for every slipp
That mortalls make, or spurre for every tripp,
Within a moments space, here would be found
No place left free t'inflict an other wound:
Hackneys and spur-gall'd Iades would happier be,
And in condition, better farre, then Wee.

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77. On Sleepe and Death.

It is receiv'd, that Sleep's the elder brother;
I see no reason for't: I thinke, the other:
Though Sleepe does now vsurp the upper hand,
I'm sure that death do's sweepe away the Land.

78. To Rhemvs .

Thy Conscience tels thee, that to make debate
Twixt Prince and People; to subvert a State;
To violate a Truce; to murther Kings
Are lawfull; nay, are meritorious things:
Thou hast a Freedome more then we, wherein
To doe against thy Conscience, and not sin.

79. On Glorioso .

He that relieves his brother in distresse,
And seeks no vaine Applause, do's nothing lesse
Then lend to his Redeemer, laying downe
A worthlesse Counter, to take up a Crowne:
But if vain-glory prompt thy tongue to boast,
It is not lent, Glorioso; 'Tis but lost.

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80. To God .

I wonder, Lord, thou shouldst so much desire
Our yonger dayes, when as the greene-wood fire
Of feeble Nature is but newly blowne;
When ev'ry Roome's unfurnisht; and not one
Fit for the presence of so great a Guest;
None trim'd with Art; no, not so much as drest
With common sense; when as th'vnburnisht print
Of thy faire Image, taken from the Mint
But now, has not the least imbellishment
Of heav'nly knowledge: Lord, what hast thou ment,
To make such choyce, to choose a time so ill,
When we have neither meanes, nor yet a will
To entertaine? Would not our deeper Age,
Wherein the Toyes of Child-hood, and the rage,
The fire of lustfull Youth shall be abated,
Wherein our riper Soules shall be estated
In richer Knowledge, and the strength of Reason;
O might not, might not this bin thought a season,
A time more aptly chosen of the twaine,
For thee to come; and us, to entertaine?
No thou, great God, that art our wise Creator,
Wert better read in our rebellious Nature:
Thou knewst the Bow of our corrupted will
Stood bent to mischiefe, would be drawne to ill
By every Arme; Thou knewst that every hower
Gave new encrease to strength, and double power
To draw those sinfull Shafts that shoot at heaven;
Thou knewst our easie Nature would be driven

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By ev'ry Breath, and that our thoughts would fall
From bad to worse; from worse, to worst of all;
Thou knewst that growing Time wold more unlevel
Our rugged Wills, and tookst the best of evill:
Lord, take it, and betimes; that, being possest
Of that, thou mayst prescribe for all the rest.

81. On Partio .

Thou sayst thy will is good, and glory'st in it,
And yet forgetst thy Maker ev'ry minit:
Say Partio, was there ever Will allow'd
When the Testators mem'ry was not good?

82. On an evill Conscience.

What hells of Horror, an evill Conscience brings!
What strange Chimera's! what prodigious things!
A pregnant womb of wonders! Ev'ry minit
We Sin; but least, when most we sin agin it.

83. To Mvndano .

Nere thinke, Mundano, that one Roome will hold
Thy God, and all thy gold;
If ere they chance to meete within a heart,
They'l either fight, or part;
So long as Earth seemes glorious in thine eyes,
Thy thoughts can never rise;

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Beleev't, Mundano, by how much more neare
Thou getst to Heav'n, the lesse will earth appeare.

84. To my Friend.

Woldst thou be prosp'rous, tho the bended brow
Of Fortune threaten thee? Ile teach thee how:
Call home thy dearest wishes, and recall
Thy hopes; Expect the worst that can befall:
If come; thy heart will be the more secure,
The lesse amaz'd, and abler to endure:
If it come not, Expectance is no losse;
Perchance it armes thee for another Crosse:
Thus wisely sheltred under this reliefe,
Thy Ioy shall be the lesse; and lesse, thy Griefe.

85. To Malfido .

Cheare up Malfido, Lay thy thoughts more level;
Make sure of Grace, and nere suspect thy Food:
He that is Good, can give a thing that's evill
No more, then thou, being evill, canst wish a good:
He better knowes to give, then thou, to begge;
Thou whin'st for Stones, and grumblest at an Egge:
O, let his better will suspend thy wish,
And thou shalt find no Scorpion; if, no Fish.

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86. On Crvcio .

Thou stil complainst that sorrowes do attend thee,
And that their savours do so much annoy thee:
Mistake not; They are weapons, to defend thee;
They be not Engins, Crucio, to destroy theee:
Wilt thou mislike thy Cropps of swelling Corne,
Because th'are trencht, & fenc'd about with thorne?

87. To Rhemvs .

Tis true; we are but dust; but wormes; nay men,
That are more base then either; And what then?
Shall wormes, or dust, or men be well advis'd,
To goe in person (where we have despis'd)
Before a God, a glorious God? I, doe;
Who bids thee Come, will bid thee Welcome too:
Rhemus, when call'd in person, you appeare
By Proxy, tell me where's your manners, there?
'Tis better to be wisely bold, then make
Thy selfe unmannerly, for manners sake:
Some ill-bred Clownes there be, that, being loath
To foule a Napkin, draw a filthy Cloath.

88. To Macio .

Droope, not beneath thy wants, as if forlorne;
Thou must be made a Iewell, to be worne

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In Abrams bosome: Macio, he that comes
To Abrams bosome, finds his way, by Crumms.

89. On Reproofe.

Tis not enough to strive agin the Act,
Or not to doe't; we must reprove the Fact
In others too; The Sin, being once made knowne
To us, if not reprov'd, becomes our owne:
We must disswade the Vice, we scorne to follow;
We must spit out, as well as never swallow.

90. On Cvrio .

Two Eares to let in Knowledge, Nature gave;
To entertaine true Faith, one heart we have;
Why so? Ile tell thee Curio, in briefe,
Our knowledge twice exceeds our halfe beliefe.

91. On Zelvstvs .

Zelustus thinks, his paines are worth his labour
If he love God, though he traduce his Neighbour;
His hot-mouth'd Zeale false-gallops on so fast
In the first Table 't tyers in the last:
Art thou a faithfull Steward of Gods store,
Zelustus, that spends Sixe, and keepst but Foure.

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92. On Philavtos .

Philauto's Charity is like a Mouse
That keepes at home, and never leaves the house,
Till it be fir'd: It stirres for no mans cause,
Vnlesse to feed on Crumms of vaine Applause:
Take heed, Philautos, lest thou heed too late;
The Mouse, in time, will eate up thy Estate.

93. On Dvbivs .

Dvbius , Thy eares are two; Thy tongue but one;
Heare God and Priest; Confesse to God alone.

94. To Sir Ivlivs Cesar, Master of the Rolles.

The high Perfections, wherwith heav'n do's please
To crowne our transitory dayes, are these;
Goods well possest, and not possessing thee:
A faithfull Friend; equall in love, degree:
Lands fruitfull, and not conscious of a Curse:
A boastlesse hand; a Charitable purse:
A smiling Conscience; A contented Mind;
A sober knowledge, with true Wisedome, joynd;
A Brest, well temper'd; Dyet, without Art,
Surfeit, or want; A wisely-simple Heart;

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Pastimes ingenious, lawfull, manly, sparing;
A Spirit not contentious rash, but daring:
A Body healthfull, sound, and fit for labour;
A House well order'd; and an equall Neighbour:
A prudent wife, and constant to the roofe;
Sober, but yet not sad, and faire enough;
Sleepe seasonable, moderate, and secure;
Actions heroicke, constant, blamelesse, pure;
A Life, as long as faire; and when expir'd,
A glorious Death, unfear'd, as undesir'd.

95. On Lvcro .

Lvcro , how poor thy Tyrant-wealth has made thee!
How miserable poore! It has betrayd thee
To thy owne seeming selfe; And it is growne
As little, thine, or lesse then thou, thy owne:
Alas, poore Lucro, how thy fruitfull pawnes
Abuse thy Stomacke, that so often yawnes
For a good Morsell, whilst thy Saint does rome,
Like a Decoy, t'entice evill Angels home,
Whose more imperious presence must controule
And fright the peace of thy perplexed Soule!
Lucro, be slave no longer to thy Pelfe;
Subdue thy Gold, and make thy selfe, thy selfe:
But if thy Saint be growne too strong for thee,
Ile tell thee Lucro; Turne thy Saint to me.

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96. On Mendax.

Faire-spoken Mendax, on the least occasion,
Sweares by his Faith, and by his owne Salvation;
Is rash-brayne Mendax, well advised, then,
To pawne his Faith in God, for Faith with Men?
Sure, small's thy Wit or Credit, to be drawne
For Wares so poore, to leave so great a Pawne.

97. On Blandvs .

When ere I wish my Blandus a Good morrow,
He is my Servant: If I come to borrow,
Or but salute my Blandus passing by,
I am your Servant, Blandus does reply:
If court my Blandus, I must understand,
He is my Servant, and does kisse my hand:
Discourse with Blandus, ev'ry Clause shall be
I am your Servant: If he drinke to mee
My Servant does it; I returne his Love,
My Servant pledges: If my lips doe move
A Suit, he is my Servant; Though I doe
Abuse my Blandus, hee's my Servant too:
How blest am I, his service should be such
To me! He never told his God so much:
How much, dear Blandus, hast thou bound me thine,
That art his Servant, not so much, as mine!

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98. On Rebellio.

The stout Rebellio, scourged by his God,
Slights his Correction, and nere ownes the Rod;
Take heed, Rebellio; Be not stout too long;
Neglected Stripes doe oft returne more strong;
A stubborne Silence more ill nature showes,
Then Sobbs of Stomack, and deserves more blowes.

99. On God and Gold.

My God and Gold cannot possesse one heart:
My God and I; or Gold and I must part.

100. To Iames Archbishop of Armagh.

Renowned Prelate, I nor know nor care
What secret vertue's in Saint Patricks Chayre;
If any; I dare boldly say, 'tis more
Since thou satst there, then ere it was before:
Goe on, great Patriarck; If thy higher Story
(As sure it will) shall drowne S. Patricks Glory:
Iberia will, (as now Iberia vaunts)
Be knowne, as well as cal'd, The Isle of Saints.

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101. On a waking Conscience.

There is a kind of Conscience some men keepe,
Is like a Member that's benumb'd with sleepe;
Which, as it gathers Blood, and wakes agen,
It shoots, and pricks, and feeles as bigg as ten.

102. On our Affections.

O how prepostrous our Affections burne!
We serve the world; love God, to serve our turn.

103. On Zelvstvs .

Zelustus weares his cloathes, as he were clod
To frighten Crowes, and not to serve his God;
As if the Symptomes of Regeneration
Were nothing but a Christian out of Fashion.

104. On Rebellio .

What? ever whining? Evermore alike,
Both when heav'n strikes & when he leaves to strike?
Not stroke thy stomacke downe, when as thy God
Is friends with thee, and throwne aside the Rod?
Take heed, Rebellio, heaven doe not replye
Vpon thy Sobbs, and hee that made thee crye

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For thy owne Good, reward not thy repining
With a new Rod, & scourge thee worse for whining.

105. On Zelvstvs .

Not thy Geneva Ruffe, nor steeple Hat
With flagging Eaves, or Cepresse out of date,
Thy nock-shorn Cloake, with a round narrow Cape;
Thy Russet hose crosse-garterd with a Tape;
Thy Antick Habit, of the old Translation,
Made for the purpose in despight of Fashion;
Tis none of these, Zelustus, that can bring
Thy Zeale in credit; none of these can wring
The least applause from heav'n: Heav'n never ment
A Christians Conscience should be bound or bent
To shapes; Zelustus, we can scarce divide
An Affectation from a secret Pride.

106. On Conscio .

Art thou revil'd, and slandred? and yet whine?
I feare th'art guilty: Is that heart of thine
So faint (if guiltles) that it cannot stoope
Beneath so poore a Burthen, and not droope?
He that has fire at home may well refraine
To blow his fingers, Conscio, or complaine
The weather's cold abroad: Make sure within,
And let them censure, let them snarle agin:
Thou mayst appeare, but not be this, the worse;
If Conscience blesse thee, Doe, let Shemei curse.

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107. To God .

Thy sacred will be done, great God,
To spend, or to suspend thy Rod:
If possible, my will's to misse it;
If otherwise, to stoope, and kisse it.

108. On Devotion.

VVe must not only be to God, but show
To Man; Pauls Cloak must be remēbred too.

109. On the Christian.

Tis not enough that the Kings Daughter should
Be faire within; She must be clad in Gold;
The curious Needle cloathes her whiter skin;
Shee's rich without, and glorious all within:
The true borne Christian, must, as well, be clod
With lives to men, as lin'd with hearts to God.

110. On Mercy and Iustice.

Gods Mercy and his Iustice is the same;
Tis but the Object that divides the Name.

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111. On Avlicvs .

Before that Aulicus was made a Lord,
He was my Friend; we might exchange a word,
As well as hearts; He could be never weary
Of my society; was jocund, merry;
Ingenious, and as jealous to offend;
He was enjoyd; He could enjoy his friend:
But now he swells, looks bigg; his Favours change,
As well as Fortunes: Now his eyes are strange:
His thoughts are Councels, curious webs of State;
And all his Actions must be wonder'd at;
His Speeches must be Lawes, and every word
An Oracle, to be admir'd, ador'd:
Frendship must now be service; A new mold
Must have new Matter, melted from the old:
O Aulicus, 'twere well, if, thou couldst doe
The very same in spirituall honour too.

112. To Rhemvs .

Faith must be joynd to works: Rhemus, I wonder,
What God has joyn'd, thou dar'st presume to sunder!

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113. On Tortvs .

Tis not the bearing of the Crosse, or Cup
Of thy Affliction; Thou must take them up:
Nor ist the taking up, alone, will doe;
Tortus, thou must take up, and follow too.

114. On Gracchvs .

Gracchus so often did repeat a Lye,
Past on, with Credit, from his very youth,
That now his Conscience has forborne to crye
Against it, and perswades him 'tis a Truth:
Tis well for Gracchus; He has gaind thereby:
He now may tell the same, and never lye.

115. On Phares .

Thou sayst, it is a Supper, and is fit
To use the Posture of a Meale, to sit:
Can thy Discretion, Phares, or thy Zeale
Give carnall Gestures to a sp'rituall Meale?
A heav'nly Supper and a fleshly Heart?
Thy Posture has discover'd what thou art.

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116. On the same.

[You'l take it sitting: Pray; and no man know it]

You'l take it sitting: Pray; and no man know it;
You'l doe, and yet you will not seeme to doe it:
You'l bow your Heart, although you bend no Knee;
Tis like your Selfe; You seeme, not what you bee.

117. To my Booke .

So; Now tis time to waine thee from my brest;
Thy Teeth grow sharp, my Babe; It will be best
For both: Thy hasty Nurse is come to take thee
Frō my fond arms: Nere whimper; he wil make thee
A dainty golden Coate: Let it suffice thee,
Thou art mine stil: howere; Thy Nurse wil prize thee
For his own sake and thine: When thou art strong,
And sure of foot, hee'l let thee sport among
Thy fellow children; He will let thee see
The World, which thou hadst never seene, with me:
Thou mayst doe well; if Fortune strike thee lucke,
And faire Opinion; Thou didst never sucke
But one good Friday, and thou mayst improove
As well in Merit, as in pop'ular love:
Thou hast sixe Brethren (borne as well as thee
Of a free Muse) legitimate and free;
Pages to Cesar, and in Cesars Court,
Besides an Ishmael, that attends the Port
Of a great Lord, an Honourable Peere
Of this blest Realme: If ere thou wander, there,

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They'l bid thee welcome, at their times of leasure,
Perchance, and bring thee to the hand of Cesar:
Thou art but young, and tender, (for who knowes
The paths of Fate?) perhaps, and one of those
Whom Clotho favors not; perchance, thy Twine
May be produc'd (for thou art halfe divine)
To after Ages, to the utmost date
Of Time; who knowes? but we subscribe to Fate:
Perchance, thy Fortune's to be bought and sold;
Was not young Ioseph serv'd the like of old?
Thy Bondage may, like his, be made, perchance,
A steppe to Honour, and a meanes t'advance
Thy higher Fortunes, and prepare thy hand
To ease a dearth, if dearth should strike the Land:

But I transgresse, my Babe; 'Tis time to part;
The Lawes of Nature breake the Rules of Art;
Once more farewel: Let Heav'ns high blessings shine
On my poore Babe, as my poore Babe has mine.

The end of the fourth and last Booke.