The Second Book
I
I SAIAH 50. 11
You that walk in the light of your own fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled, ye shall lie down in sorrow.
1.
D O , silly Cupid , snuffe and trimme
Thy false, thy feeble light,
And make her self-consuming flames more bright;
Me thinks she burns too dimme.
Is this that sprightly fire,
Whose more then sacred beams inspire
The ravisht hearts of men, and so inflame desire?
2.
See, Boy, how thy unthriftie blaze
Consumes, how fast she wains;
She spends her self, and her, whose wealth maintains
Her weak, her idle rayes.
Cannot thy lustfull blast,
Which gave it luster, make it last?
What heart can long be pleas'd, where pleasure spends so fast?
3.
Go, Wanton, place thy pale-fac'd light
Where never-breaking day
Intends to visit mortalls, or display
Thy sullen shades of night:
Thy Torch will burn more clear
In night's un Titan'd Hemisphere;
Heav'n's scornfull flames and thine can never co-appear.
4.
In vain thy busie hands addresse
Their labour to display
Thy easie blaze within the verge of day;
The greater drowns the lesse:
If Heav'n's bright glory shine.
Thy glim'ring sparks must needs resigne;
Puff out heav'n's glory then, or heav'n will work out thine.
5.
Go, Cupid's rammish Pander, go;
Whose dull, whose low desire
Can find sufficient warmth from Nature's fire;
Spend borrow'd breath, and blow,
Blow wind, made strong with spite:
When thou hast pufft the greater light
Thy lesser spark may shine, and warm the now made night.
6.
Deluded mortalls, tell me when
Your daring breath has blown
Heav'n's Tapour out, and you have spent your own,
What fire shall warm ye then?
Ah fools, perpetuall night
Shall haunt your souls with Stygian fright,
Where they shall boyl in flames, but flames shall bring no light.
S. August .
The sufficiency of my merit is to know that my merit is not sufficient .
S. G REG . Mor. 25.
By how much the lesse man seeth himself, by so much the lesse he displeaseth himself; And by how much the more he seeth the light of Grace by so much the more he disdaineth the light of nature .
S. G REG . Mor.
The light of the understanding humilitie kindleth and pride covereth .
E PIG . I.
Thou blowst heav'n's fire, tho whil'st thou goest about
Rebellious fool, in vain to blow it out:
Thy folly addes confusion to thy death:
Heav'n's fire confounds, when fann'd with Follie's breath.
II
E CCLES . 4. 8.
There is no end of all his labour, neither is his eye satisfied with riches.
O How our wid'ned arms can over-stretch
Their own dimensions! How our hands can retch
Beyond their distance! How our yielding breast
Can shrink, to be more full, and full possest
Of this inferiour Orb! How earth refin'd
Can cling to sordid earth! How kind to kind!
We gape, we grasp, we gripe, adde store to store;
Enough requires too much: too much craves more
We charge our souls so sore beyond their stint
That we recoyl or burst: The busle Mint
Of our laborious thoughts is ever going,
And coyning new desires; desires, not knowing
Where next to pitch, but like the boundlesse Ocean
Gain, and gain ground, and grow more strong by motion.
The pale-fac'd Lady of the black-ey'd night
First tips her horned browes with easie light.
Whose curious train of spangled Nymphs attire
Her next night's glory with encreasing fire;
Each ev'ning addes more luster, and adorns
The growing beauty of her grasping horns:
She sucks and draws her brother's golden store.
Untill her glutted Orb can suck no more,
Ev'n so the Vultur of insatiate minds
Still wants, and wanting seeks, and seeking finds
Now fewel to encrease her rav'nous fire:
The grave is sooner cloyd then men's desire.
We crosse the seas, and 'midst her waves we burn.
Transporting lifes, perchance that ne'r return:
We sack, we ransack to the utmost sands
Of native kingdomes, and of forrein lands;
We travel sea and soyl, we pry, we proul,
We progresse, and we prog from pole to pole:
We spend our mid-day sweat, our mid-night oy!
We tire the night in thought, the day in toyl:
We make Art servil, and the Trade gentile,
(Yet both corrupted with ingenious gulle)
To compasse earth; and with her empty store
To fill our arms, and grasp one handfull more;
Thus seeking rest, our labours never cease,
But as our years, our hot desires encrease:
Thus we, poore little Worlds! (with bloud and sweat)
In vain attempt to comprehend the great;
Thus, in our gain, become we gainfull losers.
And what's enclos'd, encloses the enclosers.
Now Reader, close thy book, and then advise;
Be wisely worldly, be not worldy wise:
Let not thy nobler thoughts be alwayes raking
The world's base dunghill; vermin's took by taking:
Take heed thou trust not the deceitfull lap
Of wanton Dalilah : The world's a trap.
H UGO de Anima
Tell me where be those now that so lately loved and hugg'd the world? Nothing remaineth of them but dust and worms: Observe what those men were; what those men are: They were like thee; they did eat, drink, laugh and led merry dayes, and in a moment slipt into hell. Here their flesh is food for worms; there, their souls are fewell for fire, till they shall be rejoyned in an unhappy fellowship, and cast into eternall torments; where they that were once companions in sinne shall be hereafter partners in punishment .
E PIG . 2.
Gripe, Cupid , and gripe still untill that wind.
That's pent before, find secret vent behind:
And when th' ast done, hark here, I tell thee what
Before I 'll trust thy armfull, I 'll trust that.
III
J OB 18. 8.
He is cast into a net by his own feet, and walketh upon a snare.
1.
W H at nets and quiver too? what need there all
These slie devices to betray poore men?
Die they not fast enough when thousands fall
Before thy dart? what need these engines then?
Attend they not, and answer to thy call,
Like nightly coveys, where thou list and when?
What needs a stratageme where strength can sway?
Or what need strength compell, where none gainsay?
Or what need stratageme or strength, where hearts obey?
2.
Husband thy sleights: It is but vain to wast
Honey on those that will be catcht with gall;
Thou canst not, ah! thou canst not bid so fast
As men obey: thou art more slow to call,
Then they to come; thou canst not make such hast
To strike, as they being struck make hast to fall.
Go save thy nets for that rebellious heart
That scorns thy pow'r, and has obtein'd the art
I avoid thy flying shaft, to quench thy fi'ry dart.
3.
Lost mortall, how is thy destruction sure.
Between two bawds, and both without remorse!
The one's a Line, the tother is a Lure;
This, to entice thy soul; that, to enforce:
Way-laid by both, how canst thou stand secure?
That draws, this wooes thee to th' eternall curse
O charming tyrant, how hast thou befool'd
And slav'd poore man, that would not if he could
Avoid thy line thy lure; nay could not if he would!
4.
Alas thy sweet perfidious voyce betrayes
His wanton ears with thy Sirenian haits;
Thou wrapp'st his eyes in mists, then boldly layes
Thy Lethall gins before their crystall gates;
Thou lock'st up ev'ry Sense with thy false keyes,
All willing pris'ners to thy close deceits:
His eare most nimble where it deaf should be,
His eye most blind where most it ought to see,
And when his heart's most bound then thinks it self most free.
5.
Thou grand Impostour, how hast thou obtein'd
Tho wardship of the world! Are all men turn'd
Idiots and lunaticks? are all retain'd
Beneath thy servile bands? Is none return'd
To his forgotten self? Has none regain'd
His senses? Are their senses all adjourn'd?
What, none dismist thy Court? will no plump fee
Bribo thy false fists to make a glad decree,
I unfool whom thou hast fool'd, and set thy pris'ners free?
S. B ERN . in Ser.
In this world is much treacherie, little truth, here, all things are traps; here, every thing is beset with snares; here, souls are endanger'd, bodies are afflicted: here all things are vanity and vexation of spirit .
E PIG . 3
Nay, Cupid , pitch thy trammit where thou please,
Thou canst not fail to take such fish as these;
Thy thriving sport will ne'r be spent: no need
To fear when ev'ry cork's a world thou it speed.
IV
H OSEA 13. 3.
They shall be as the chaff that is driven with a whirlwind out of the floore, and as the smoke out of the chimney.
Flint-hearted Stoicks, you, whose marble eyes
Contemne a wrinckle, and whose souls despise
To follow Nature's too-affected fashion,
Or travel in the Regent-walk of Passion;
Whose rigid hearts disdain to shrink at fears,
Or play at fast and loose with smiles and tears;
Come, burst your spleens with laughter to behold
A new-found vanitie, which dayes of old
Ne'r knew; a vanitie, that has beset
The world, and made more slaves then Mahomet .
That has condemn'd us to the servile yoke
Of slavery and made us slaves to smoke,
But stay! why tax I thus our modern times,
For new-born follies, and for new-born crimes?
Are we sole guiltie, and the first age free?
No, they were smok'd and slav'd as well as we:
What 's sweet-lipt Honour's blast, but smoke? What 's treasure
But very smoke? And what more smoke then pleasure?
Alas: they 're all but shadows, fumes and blasts:
That vanishes, this fades, the other wasts.
The restlesse Merchant, he that loves to steep
His brains in wealth, and layes his soul to sleep
In bags of Bullion, sees th' immortall Crown;
And fain would mount, but Ingots keep him down:
He brags to-day, perchance, and begs to-morrow;
He lent but now, wants credit now to borrow:
Blow winds, the treasure's gone the merchant 's broke;
A slave to silver 's but a slave to smoke.
Behold the Glory-vying child of fame,
That from deep wounds sucks forth an honour'd name:
That thinks no purchase worth the style of good,
But what is sold for sweat, and seal'd with bloud;
That for a point, a blast of emptie breath
Undaunted gazes in the face of death;
Whose dear-bought bubble, fill'd with vain renown,
Breaks with a phillop, or a Gen'ral's frown:
His stroke-got Honour staggers with a stroke;
A slave to Honour is a slave to smoke.
And that fond soul which wasts bis idle dayes
In loose delights, and sports about the blaze
Of Cupid's candle; he that dayly spies
Twin babies in his mistresse' Geminies
Whereto his sad devotion does impart
The sweet burnt offering of a bleeding heart:
See, how his wings are sing'd in Cyprian fire,
Whose flames consume with youth, in age expire:
The world's a bubble: all the pleasures in it,
Like morning vapours, vanish in a minit:
The vapours vanish, and the bubble's broke:
A slave to pleasure is a slave to smoke.
Now, Stoick, cease thy laughter, and repast
Thy pickled cheeks with tears, and weep as fast.
S. H IERON .
That rich man is great, who thinketh not himself great, because he is rich: the proud man (who is the poore man) braggeth outwardly but beggeth inwardly; he is blown up, but not full .
F EIR . R AV .
Vexation and anguish accompany riches and honour: The pomp of the world and the favour of the people are but smoke, and a blast suddenly vanishing: which, if they commonly please, commonly bring repentance, and for a minute of joy they bring an age of sorrow .
E PIG . 4.
Cupid , thy diet 's strange: It dulls, it rowzes,
It cools, it heats, it binds, and then it looses:
Dull-sprightly cold-hot fool, if ev'r it winds thee
Into a loosenesse once, take heed, it binds thee.
V
P ROVERBS 13. 5.
Wilt thou set thine eyes upon that which is not? for riches make them selves wings they flie away as an Eagle
1.
F A lse world, thou ly'st: Thou canst not lend
The least delight:
Thy favours cannot gain a Friend,
They are so slight:
Thy morning pleasures make an end
To please at night:
Poore are the wants that thou supply'st,
And yet thou vaunt'st, and yet thou vy'st
With heav'n; Fond earth, thou boasts; false world thou ly'st
2.
Thy babbling tongue tels golden tales
Of endlesse treasure;
Thy bountle offers easle sales
Of lasting pleasure:
Thou ask'st the Conscience what she alls.
And swear'st to case her;
There's none can want where thou supply'st:
There's none can give where thou deny'st.
Alas, fond world, thou boasts; false world, thou ly'st
3.
What well-advised eare regards
What earth can say?
Thy words are gold, but thy rewards
Are painted clay;
Thy cunning can but pack the cards;
Thou canst not play;
Thy game at weakest, still thou vy'st;
If seen, and then revy'd, deny'st;
Thou art not what thou seem'st: false world thou ly'st
4.
Thy tinsll-bosome seems a mint
Of new-coin'd treasure,
A Paradise, that has no stint,
No change no measure:
A painted cask, but nothing in 't.
Nor wealth, nor pleasure:
Vain earth! that falsly thus comply'st
With man: Vain man! that thus rely'st
On earth: Vain man thou dot'st: Vain earth, thou ly'st
5.
What mean dull souls, in this high measure
To haberdash
In earth's base wares; whose greatest treasure
Is drosse and trash?
The height of whose inchannting pleasure
Is but a flash?
Are these the goods that thou supply'st
Us mortalls with? Are these the high'st?
Can these bring cordiall peace? False world thou ly'st
P ET . B LES
This world is deceitfull: Her end is doubtfull. Her conclusion is horrible; Her Judge is terrible; And her punishment is intolerable.
S. August lib. Confess.
The vain glory of this world is a deceitfull sweetnesse, a fruitlesse labour, a perpetuall fear, a dangerous honour: Her beginning is without providence, and her end not without repentance .
E PIG . 5.
World, th' art a traytour: thou hast stampt thy base
And chymick metall with great Caesar's face;
And with thy bastard bullion thou hast barter'd
For wares of price: how justly drawn and quarter'd:
VI.
J OB 15. 31.
Let not him that is deceived trust in vanitie, for vanitie shall be his recompense.
1.
B E lieve her not: Her glasse diffuses
False portraitures: thou canst espie
No true reflection: She abuses
Her mis-inform'd beholder's eye:
Her Chrystall's falsly steel'd: It scatters
Deceitfull beams. Believe her not she flatters.
2.
This flaring mirrour represents
No right proportion, blew, or feature:
Her very looks are complements;
They make thee fairer, goodlier, greater:
The skilfull glosse of her reflection
But paints the Context of thy course complexion.
3.
Were thy dimension but a stride,
Nay, wert thou statur'd but a span,
Such as the long-bill'd troops defi'd
A very fragment of a man;
Shee'l make thee Mimas , which ye will.
The Jove-slain tyrant, or th' Ionick hill.
4.
Had surfets or th' ungratious Starre
Conspir'd to make one common-place
Of all deformities that are
Within the volume of thy face;
She'd lend thee favour should out-move
The Troy-bane Hellen or the Queen of Love.
5.
Were thy consum'd estate as poore
As Lazar's or afflicted Job's :
Shee'll change thy wants to seeming store,
And turn thy rags to purple robes:
She'll make thy hide-bound flanck appear
As plump as theirs that feast it all the yeare
6.
Look off; let not thy Opticks be
Abus'd; thou seest not what thou should st:
Thy self's the Object thou should'st see
But 'tis thy shadow thou behold'st;
And shadows thrive the more in stature
The nearer we approach the light of nature
7.
Where Heav'n's bright beams look more direct
The shadow shrinks as they grow stronger:
But when they glaunce their fair aspect,
The bold-fac'd shade growes larger, longer;
And when their lamp begins to fall,
Th increasing shadows lengthen most of all.
8.
The soul that seeks the noon of grace,
Shrinks in, but swells if grace retreat;
As heav'n lifts up, or veils his face,
Our self-esteems grow lesse or great.
The least is greatest; and who shall
Appear the greatest are the least of all.
H UGO lib. de Anima.
In vain he lifteth up the eye of his heart to behold his God, who is not first rightly advised to behold himself; First thou must see the visible things of thy self, before thou canst be prepared to know the invisible things of God, for if thou canst not apprehend the things within thee, thou canst not comprehend the things above thee: The best looking-glasse wherein to see thy God, is perfectly to see thy self .
E PIG . 6.
Be not deceiv'd great fool: There is no losse
In being small; great bulks but swell with drosse.
Man is heav'n's Master-peece: If it appear
More great the value 's lesse; if lesse, more dear
VII.
D EUIERONOMY 30. 19.
I have set before thee life and death, blessing and cursing, therefore choose life, that thou and thy seed may live.
1.
T HE world's a Floore, whose swelling heaps retein
The mingled wages of the Ploughman's toyl;
The world 's a heap, whose yet unwinnowed grain
Is lodg'd with chaff and buried in her soyl;
All things are mixt, the usefull with the vain;
The good with bad, the noble with the vile;
The world's an Ark, wherein things pure and grosse
Present their lossefull gain, and gainfull losse;
Where ev'ry dram of gold conteins a pound of drosse
2.
This furnisht Ark presents the greedy view
With all that earth can give, or Heav'n can add;
Here, lasting Joyes: here, pleasures hourely new
And hourely fading, may be wisht and bad:
All points of Honour, counterfeit and true.
Salute thy soul, and wealth both good and bad:
Here maist thou open wide the two-leav'd doore
Of all thy wishes, to receive that store
Which being empty most does overflow the more
3.
Come then, my soul, approch this royall Burse,
And see what wares our great Exchange retains;
Come, come; here 's that shall make a firm divorce
Betwixt thy wants and thee, if want complains;
No need to sit in councel with thy purse,
Here 's nothing good shall cost more price then pains:
But O my soul, take heed; if thou rely
Upon thy faithlesse Opticks, thou wilt buy
Too blind a bargain: know, fools onely trade by th' eye.
4.
The worldly wisdome of the foolish man
Is like a sieve, that does alone retein
The grosser substance of the worthlesse bran:
But thou, my soul, let thy brave thoughts disdain
So course a purchase; O he thou a fan
To purge the chaff, and keep the winnow'd grain:
Make clean thy thoughts, and dresse thy mixt desires,
Thou art Heav'n's tasker; and thy God requires
The purest of thy floore as well as of thy fires.
5.
Let grace conduct thee to the paths of peace,
And wisdome blesse thy soul's unblemisht wayes;
No matter then, how short or long's the lease,
Whose date determins thy self-numbred dayes:
No need to care for wealth's or fame's increase,
Nor Mars his Palm, nor high Apollo's Bayes,
Lord, if thy gracious bountie please to fill
The floore of my desires, and teach me skill
To dresse and chuse the corn, take those the chaff that will.
S. August . lib. 1. De doct. Christi.
Temporall things more ravish in the expectation, then in fruition: but things eternall more in the fruition then expectation .
Ibidem.
The life of man is the middle between Angels and beasts: If man takes pleasure in carnall things, he is compared to beasts; but if he delights in spirituall things he is suited with Angels .
E PIG . 7.
Art thou a child? Thou wilt not then be fed,
But like a child and with the children's bread:
But thou art fed with chaff, or corn undrest:
My soul thou savour'st too much of the beast.
VIII.
P HILIPPIANS 3. 19.
They mind earthly things, but our conversation is in Heaven.
Venus. Div. Cupid.
Ven. W H at means this peevish brat? Whish, lullaby,
What ails my babe? what ails my babe to cry?
Will nothing still it? will it neither be
Pleas'd with the nurse's breast nor mother's knee?
What ails my bird? what moves my froward boy
To make such whimp'ring faces? Peace, my joy:
Will nothing do? Come, come, this pettish brat
Thus cry and bawl, and cannot tell for what?
Come busse and friends, my lambe; whish, lullaby
What ails my babe? what ails my babe to cry?
Peace, peace my dear; alas, thy early years
Had never faults to merit half these teares;
Come smile upon me: Let thy mother sple
Thy father's image in her babie's eye:
Husband these guiltlesse drops against the rage
Of harder fortunes, and the gripes of age;
Thine eye's not ripe for tears: whish, lullaby;
What ails my babe, my sweet-fac'd babe to cry?
Look, look, what 's here! A dainty golden thing:
See how the dancing bells turn round and ring
To please my bantling I here 's a knack will breed
A hundred kisses: here 's a knack indeed.
So, now my bird is white, and looks as fair
As Pelops ' shoulder, or my milk-white pair:
Here's right the father's smile; when Mars beguil'd
Sick Venus of her heart just thus he smil'd.
Divine Cupid
Well may they smile alike; thy base bred boy
And his base sire had both one cause, a toy:
How well their subjects and their smiles agree!
Thy Cupid finds a toy, and Mars found thee!
False Queen of beauty, Queen of false delights
Thy knee presents an Embleme, that invites
Man to himself, whose self-transported heart
(Ov'rwhelm'd with native sorrows, and the smart
Of purchas'd griefs) lies whining night and day.
Not knowing why, till heavy-heeld delay.
The dull-brow'd Pander of despair, layes by
His leaden buskins, and presents his eye
With antick trifles; which th' indulgent earth
Makes proper objects of man's childish mirth.
These be the coyn that passe, the sweets that please;
There 's nothing good, there 's nothing great but these:
These be the pipes that base-born minds dance after
And turn immod'rate tears to lavish laughter;
Whilst Heav'nly raptures passe without regard:
Their strings are harsh and their high strains unheard:
The plough-man's whistle or the triviall flute
Find more respect then great Apollo's late:
We'll look to Heav'n and trust to higher joyes;
Let swine love husks, and children whine for toyes.
S. B ERN .
That is the true and chief joy, which is not conceived from the creature but received from the Creatour; which (being once possest thereof) none can take from thee: whereto all pleasure being compared is torment, all joy is grief, sweet things are bitter, all glory is basenesse, and all delectable things are despicable .
S. B ERN .
Joy in a changeable subject must necessarily change as the subject changeth .
E PIG . 8
Peace, childish Cupid , peace: thy finger'd eye
But cries for what, in time, will make thee cry:
But are thy peevish wranglings thus appeas'd?
Well maist thou cry, thou art so poorely pleas'd.
IX
I SAIAH 10. 3.
What will ye do in the day of your visitation? to whom will ye flie for help? and where will ye leave your glory?
1.
I S this that jolly God, whose Cyprian bowe
Has shot so many flaming darts,
And made so many wounded Beauties go
Sadly perplext with whimp'ring hearts?
Is this that Sov'raign Deity that brings
The slavish world in awe, and stings
The blund'ring souls of swains, and stoops the hearts of Kings.
2.
What Circean charm, what Hecatean spight
Has thus abus'd the God of love?
Great Jove was vanquisht by his greater might;
(And who is stronger-arm'd then Jove ?)
Or has our lustfull god perform'd a rape,
And (fearing Argus ' eyes) would scape
The view of jealous earth, in this prodigious shape?
3.
Where be those rosie cheeks, that lately scorn'd
The malice of injurious Fates?
Ah, where 's that pearl Percullis, that adorn'd
Those dainty two-leav'd Ruby gates?
Where be those killing eyes, that so controul'd
The world? And locks, that did infold.
Like knots of flaming wire, like curles of burnisht gold?
4.
No, no, 't was neither Hecatean spite
Nor charm below, nor pow'r above;
T was neither Circe's spell, nor Stygian sprite.
That thus transform'd our god of Love;
'Twas owl-eyed Lust (more potent farre then they)
Whose eyes and actions hate the day:
Whom all the world observe, whom all the world obay
5.
Se how the latter Trumpet's dreadfull blast
Affrights stout Mars his trembling son!
Se, how he startles! how he stands agast,
And scrambles from his melting Throne!
Hark, how the direfull hand of vengeance tears
The swelt'ring clouds, whilst Heav'n appears
A circle fill'd with flame; and center'd with his fears.
6.
This is that day, whose oft report hath worn
Neglected tongues of Prophets bare:
The faithlesse subject of the worldling's scorn
The summe of men and Angels' pray'r:
This, this the day whose All-discerning light
Ransacks the secret dens of night,
And severs good from bad: true joyes from false delight.
7.
You grov'ling worldlings you, whose wisdome trades
Where light nev'r shot his golden ray;
That hide your actions in Cimerian shades
How will your eyes indure this day?
Hills will be deaf, and mountains will not heare;
There will be no caves, no corners there,
To shade your souls from fire, to shield your hearts from fear.
H UGO .
O the extreme loathsomnesse of fleshly lust, which not onely effeminates the mind, but enerves the body; which not onely distaineth the soul, but disguiseth the person! It is ushered with fury and wantonnesse; it is accompanied with filthinesse and uncleannesse: and it is followed with grief and repentance .
E PIG 9.
What? sweet-fac'd Cupid , has thy bastard-treasure
Thy boasted honours, and thy bold-fac'd pleasure
Perplext thee now? I told thee long ago,
To what they'd bring thee fool To wit to woe .
X
N AHUM 2. 10.
She is emptie, and void, and waste.
1.
S H e's emptie: hark, she sounds: there's nothing there
But noyse to fill thy care;
Thy vain enquiry can at length but find
A blast of murm'ring wind:
It is a cask that seems as full as fair
But merely tunn'd with aire:
Fond youth go build thy hopes on better grounds:
The soul that vainly founds
Her joyes upon this world but feeds on emptie sounds.
2.
She's emptie: hark, she sounds; there 's nothing in 't
The spark-ingend'ring flint
Shall sooner melt, and hardest munce shall first
Dissolve and quench thy thirst:
E're this false world shall still thy stormy breast
With smooth-fac'd calms of rest:
Thou mayst as well expect Meridian light
From shades of black-mouth'd night
As in this emptie world to find a full delight.
3.
She 's empty; hark, she sounds; 'tis void and vast;
What if some flatt'ring blast
Of flatnous honour should perchance be there
And whisper in thine care:
It is but wind and blows but where it list,
And vanishes like a mist:
Poore honour earth can give! What gen'rous mind
Would be so base to bind
Her Heav'n-bred soul a slave to serve a blast of wind?
4.
She 's empty: hark, she sounds: 'tis but a ball
For fools to play withall:
The painted film but of a stronger bubble,
That 's lin'd with silken trouble:
It is a world whose work and recreation
Is vanity and vexation?
A Hagg repair'd with vice-complexion, paint,
A quest-house of complaint:
It is a saint a fiend; worse fiend, when most a saint.
5.
She's empty: hark she sounds: 'tis vain and void.
What 's here to be enjoyed,
But grief and sicknesse, and large bills of sorrow,
Drawn now, and crost to-morrow?
Or what are men, but puffs of dying breath,
Reviv'd with living death?
Fond lad. O build thy hopes on surer grounds
Then what dull flesh propounds:
Trust not this hollow world she 's empty: hark she sounds.
S. C HRYS . in Ep. ad Heb.
Contemne riches; and thou shall be rich, contemne glory, and thou shall be glorious: contemne injuries, and thou shall be a conquerour; contemne rest, and thou shall gain rest contemne earth and thou shalt find Heaven .
H UGO . lib. do Vanit. Mundi.
The world is a vanity which affordeth neither beauty to the amorous, nor reward to the laborious nor incouragement to the industrious.
E PIG . 10.
This house is to be let for life or years;
Her rent is sorrow, and her In-come teares:
Cupid , 't as long stood void; her bills make known
She must be dearly let; or let alone.
XI
M ATTHEW 7. 14.
Narrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it
P R epost'rous fool, thou troul'st amisse;
Thou err'st; that 's not the way 'tis this:
Thy hopes, instructed by thine eye,
Make thee appear more near then I;
My floore is not so flat, so fine,
And has more obvious rubs then thine:
'Tis true; my way is hard and strait,
And leads me through a thorny gate,
Whose ranckling pricks are sharp and fell;
The common way to Heav'n's by hell:
'Tis true; thy path is short and fair
And free of rubs: Ah fool, beware,
The safest road 's not alwayes ev'n;
The way to Hell's a seeming Heav'n.
Think'st thou, the Crown of Glory 's had
With idle ease fond Cyprian lad?
Think'st thou, that mirth, and vain delights,
High feed, and shadow-shortning nights,
Soft knees, full bones, and beds of down
Are proper Prologues to a Crown?
Or canst thou hope to come and view
Like prosperous Caesar , and subdue?
The bondslave Usurer will trudge
In spite of Gouts; will turn a drudge,
And serve his soul-condemning purse,
T' increase it with the widow's curse:
And shall the Crown of glory stand
Not worth the waving of a hand?
The fleshly wanton to obtain
His minute-lust, will count it gain
To lose his freedome, his estate.
Upon so dear, so sweet a rate;
Shall pleasures thus be priz'd, and must
Heav'n's Palm be cheaper then a lust?
The true-bred Spark, to hoise his name
Upon the waxen wings of fame;
Will fight undaunted in a flood
That 's rals'd with brackish drops and bloud:
And shall the promis'd Crown, of life
Be thought a toy, not worth a strife?
An easie good brings easie gains;
But things of price are bought with pains:
The pleasing way is not the right:
He that would conquer Heav'n must fight.
S. H IERON . in Ep.
No labour is hard, no time is long wherein the glory of Eternitie is the mark we levell at .
S. G REO . lib. 8. Mor.
The valour of a just man is to conquer the flesh, to contradict his own will, to quench the delights of this present life, to endure and love the miseries of this world for the reward of a better, to contemn the flatteries of prosperitie and inwardly to overcome the fears of adversitie .
E PIG . 11
O Cupid , if thy smoother way were right,
I should mistrust this Crown were counterfeit:
The way 's not easle where the Prize is great:
I hope no virtues where I smell no sweat.
XII.
G AIATIANS 6. 14.
God forbid that I should glory, save in the Crosse.
1.
C A n nothing settle my uncertain breast,
And fix my rambling love?
Can my affections find out nothing best?
But still and still remove?
Has earth no mercy? will no Ark of rest
Receive my restlesse Dove?
Is there no Good, then which there 's nothing higher
To blesse my full desire
With joyes that never change; with joyes that nev'r expire?
2.
I wanted wealth; and at my dear request,
Earth lent a quick supply;
I wanted mirth to charm my sullen breast;
And who more brisk then I?
I wanted fame to glorifie the rest;
My fame flew eagle-high:
My joy not fully ripe, but all decay'd:
Wealth vanisht like a shade,
My mirth began to flag my fame began to fade.
3.
The world 's an Ocean, hurried to and fro
With ev'ry blast of passion:
Her lustfull streams, when either ebb or flow,
Are tides of man's vexation:
They alter dayly and they dayly grow
The worse by alteration:
The earth's a cask full-tunn'd, yet wanting measure;
Her precious wind, is pleasure;
Her yest is honour's puff; her lees are worldly treasure.
4.
My trust is in the Crosse: let Beauty flag
Her loose, her wanton sall;
Let count'nance-gilding Honour cease to brag
In courtly tearms, and vail;
Let ditch-bred wealth henceforth forget to wag
Her base though golden tail;
False beautie's conquest is but reall losse,
And wealth but golden drosse;
Best Honour's but a blast: my trust is in the Crosse.
5.
My trust is in the Crosse: There lies my rest;
My fast my sole delight:
Let cold-mouth'd Boreas, or the hot-mouth'd East
Blow till they burst with spight:
Let earth and hell conspire their worst, their best
And joyn their twisted might:
Let showres of thunderbolts dart down and wound me
And troups of fiends surround me,
All this may well confront; all this shall nev'r confound me.
S. August .
Christ's Crosse is the Chriscrosse of all our happinesse: It delivers us from all blindnesse of errour, and enriches our darknesse with light; It restoreth the troubled soul to rest; It bringeth strangers to God's acquaintance; It maketh remote forreiners near neighbours; It cutteth off discord; concludeth a league of everlasting peace and is the bounteous authour of all good .
S. B ERN . in Ser. de Resur.
We find glory in the Crosse; to us that are saved it is the power of God and the fulnesse of all virtues .
E PIG 12.
I follow'd rest, rest fled and soon forsook me;
I ran from grief, grief ran and over-took me.
What shall I do? lest I be too much tost
On worldly crosses, Lord, let me be crost.
XIII.
P ROVERBS 26 11
As a dog returneth to his vomit, so a fool returneth to his folly.
O I am wounded I and my wounds do smart
Beyond my patience, or great Chiron's art:
I yield, I yield; the day, the palm is thine;
Thy bow's more true; thy shafts more fierce then mine
Hold, hold, O hold thy conq'ring hand. What need
To send more darts? the first has done the deed:
Oft have we struggled, when our equall arms
Shot equall shafts, inflicted equall harms;
But this exceeds, and with her flaming head,
Twyfork'd with death, has struck my conscience dead.
But must I die? Ah me! If that were all,
Then, then I'd stroke my bleeding wounds, and call
This dart a cordiall, and with joy endure
These harsh ingredients, where my grief's my cure
But something whispers in my dying eare,
There is an after-day; which day I fear:
The slender debt to Nature's quickly paid,
Discharg'd perchance with greater ease then made;
But if that pale-fac'd Sergeant make arrest,
Ten thousand actions would (whereof the least
Is more then all this lower world can bail)
Be entred, and condemn me to the jail
Of Stygian darknesse; bound in red-hot chains,
And grip'd with tortures worse then Titian pains.
Farewell my vain, farewell my loose delights;
Farewell my rambling dayes, my rev'ling nights;
'T was you betrayd' me first, and, when ye found
My soul at vantage, gave my soul the wound:
Farewell my bullion gods, whose sov'reigne looks
So often catch'd me with their golden hooks:
Go, seek another slave; ye must all go;
I cannot serve my God and Bullion too.
Farewell false honour; you, whose ayry wings
Did mount my soul above the thrones of kings;
Then flatter'd me, took pet and in disdain.
Nipt my green buds; then kickt me down again:
Farewell my Bow; farewell my Cyprian Quiver;
Farewell dear world, farewell dear world for ever
O, but this most delicious world, how sweet
Her pleasures relish! Ah! How jump they meet
The grasping soul! and with their sprightly fire
Revive, and raise, and rowze the rapt desire!
For ever? O, to part so long? what? never
Meet more? another year, and then for ever:
Too quick resolves do resolution wrong;
What part so soon, to be divorc'd so long?
Things to be done are long to be debated;
Heav'n is not day'd. Repentance is not dated.
S. August . lib. de Util. Agen. Paen.
Go up my soul into the tribunall of thy Conscience; There set thy guiltie self before thy self: Hide not thy self behind thy self, least God bring thee forth before thy self .
S. August . in Soliloq.
In vain is that washing, where the next-sinne defileth: He hath ill repented whose sinnes are repeated: that stomach is the worse for vomiting, that licketh up his vomit .
A NSELM .
God hath promised pardon to him that repenteth but he hath not promised repentance to him that sinneth .
E PIO . 13.
Brain-wounded Cupid , had this hasty dart,
As it hath prickt thy fancy pierc'd thy heart.
'T had been thy friend: O how has it deceiv'd thee!
For had this dart but kill'd this dart had sav'd thee.
XIV
P ROVERBS 24 16
A just man falleth seven times and riseth up again, but the wicked shall fall into mischief .
1.
'T is but a foyl at best, and that 's the most
Your skill can boast:
My slipp'ry footing fail'd me; and you tript
Just as I slipt:
Me wanton weaknesse did her self betray
With too much play:
I was too bold: He never yet stood sure,
That stands secure:
Who ever trusted to his native strength,
But fell at length?
The Title's craz'd, the Tenure is not good,
That claims by th' evidence of flesh and bloud.
2.
Boast not thy skill; the righteous man falls oft,
Yet falls but soft:
There may be dirt to mire him but no stones
To crush his bones:
What if he staggers? Nay, put case he be
Foyl'd on his knee;
That very knee will bend to Heav'n, and woo
For mercy too,
The true-bred Gamester ups a fresh, and then,
Falls to 't agen;
Whereas the leaden-hearted coward lies.
And yields his conquer'd life, or craven'd dies.
3.
Boast not thy Conquest; thou, that ev'ry hour
Fall'st ten times lower;
Nay hast not pow'r to rise, if not in case
To fall more base:
Thou wallow'st where I slip; and thou dost tumble
Where I but stumble:
Thou glory'st in thy slav'rie's dirty badges.
And fall'st for wages:
Sowr grief and sad repentance scowrs and clears
My stains with tears:
Thy falling keeps thy falling still in ure;
But when I slip I stand the more secure.
4.
Lord what a nothing is this little Span,
We call a Man!
What fenny trash mainteins the smoth ring fires
Of his desires!
How sleight and short are his resolvs at longest!
How weak at strongest!
O if a sinner held by thy right hand
Can hardly stand,
Good God! in what a desp'rate case are they
That have no stay!
Man's state implyes a necessary curse;
When not himself, he 's mad; when most himself he 's worse.
S. A MBEROS . in Serm. ad Vincula.
Peter stood more firmly after he had lamented his fall, then before he fell. Insomuch that he found more grace then he lost grace .
S. C HRYS in Ep. ad Heliod. Monach.
It is no such hainous matter to fall afflicted; as being down to lie dejected: It is no danger for a souldier to receive a wound in battel, but after the wound received, through despair of recovery, to refuse a remedy for we often see wounded Champions wear the Palm at last and after flight crowned with victory .
E PIG 14.
Triumph not, Cupid , his mischance doth show
Thy trade; doth once, what thou dost alwayes do;
Brag not too soon; has thy prevalling hand
Foil'd him? Ah fool, th 'ast taught him how to stand?
XV.
J EREMIAH 32. 40
I will put my fear in their hearts, that they shall not depart from me.
S O , now the soul 's sublim'd; her sowre desires
Are recalcin'd in heav'n's well-tempred fires:
The heart restor'd and purg'd from drossie nature
Now finds the freedome of a new-born creature:
It lives another life, it breaths now breath;
It neither feels nor fears the sting of death.
Like as the idle vagrant (having none)
That boldly 'dopts each house he views his own.
Makes ev'ry purse his chequer; and at pleasure
Walks forth, and taxes all the world like Caesar
At length by vertue of a just command,
His sides are lent to a severer hand;
Whereon his passe, not fully understood
Is texted in a manuscript of blood;
Thus past from town to town, untill he come
A sore repentant to his native home:
Ev'n so the rambling heart, that idly roves
From crimes to sin, and uncontroul'd removes
From lust to lust; when wanton flesh invites
From old worn pleasures to new choice delights;
At length corrected by the fillall rod
Of his offended (but his gracious God)
And lasht from sins to sighs: and by degrees,
From sighs to vows from vows to bended knees,
From bended knees, to a true pensive breast;
From thence to torments, not by tongues exprest
Returns: (and from his sinfull self exil'd)
Finds a glad father, he a welcome child:
O then it lives; O then it lives involv'd
In secret raptures; pants to be dissolv'd:
The royall Of-spring of a second Birth
Sets ope to Heav'n, and shuts the doors to earth:
If love-sick Jove commanded clouds should hap
To rain such show'rs as quickned Danae's lap:
Or dogs (far kinder then their purple master)
Should lick his sores, he laughs nor weeps the faster
If earth (Heav'n's rivall), dart her idle ray;
To Heav'n, 'tis wax, and to the world, 'tis clay:
If earth present delights, it scorns to draw,
But like the jet unrubb'd, disdains that straw:
No hope deceives it and no doubt divides it;
No grief disturbs it, and no errour guides it;
No fear distracts it, and no rage inflames it;
No guilt condemns it, ad no folly shames it;
No sloth besots it, and no lust inthralls it;
No scorn afflicts it, and no passion gawls it:
It is a carknet of immortall life;
An Ark of peace; the lists of sacred strife;
A purer piece of endlesse transitory;
A shrine of Grace a little throne of Glory:
A Heav'n-born Of-spring of a new-born birth;
An earthly Heav'n; an ounce of Heav'nly earth.
S. August de Spir. & Anima.
O happy heart, where pietie affecteth, where humility subjects, where repentance correcteth, where obedience directeth, where perseverance perfecteth, where power protecteth, where devotion projecteth, where charitie connecteth .
S. G REG .
Which way soever the heart surneth itself (if carefully) it shall commonly observe, that in those very things we lose God, in those very things we shall find God: It shall find the heat of his power in consideration of those things, in the love of which things he was most cold, and by what things it fell, perverted, by those things it is raised converted .
E PIG 15
My heart! but wherefore do I call thee so?
I have renounc'd my int'rest long ago:
When thou wert false and fleshly, I was thine;
Mine wert thou never till thou wert not mine.
I SAIAH 50. 11
You that walk in the light of your own fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled, ye shall lie down in sorrow.
1.
D O , silly Cupid , snuffe and trimme
Thy false, thy feeble light,
And make her self-consuming flames more bright;
Me thinks she burns too dimme.
Is this that sprightly fire,
Whose more then sacred beams inspire
The ravisht hearts of men, and so inflame desire?
2.
See, Boy, how thy unthriftie blaze
Consumes, how fast she wains;
She spends her self, and her, whose wealth maintains
Her weak, her idle rayes.
Cannot thy lustfull blast,
Which gave it luster, make it last?
What heart can long be pleas'd, where pleasure spends so fast?
3.
Go, Wanton, place thy pale-fac'd light
Where never-breaking day
Intends to visit mortalls, or display
Thy sullen shades of night:
Thy Torch will burn more clear
In night's un Titan'd Hemisphere;
Heav'n's scornfull flames and thine can never co-appear.
4.
In vain thy busie hands addresse
Their labour to display
Thy easie blaze within the verge of day;
The greater drowns the lesse:
If Heav'n's bright glory shine.
Thy glim'ring sparks must needs resigne;
Puff out heav'n's glory then, or heav'n will work out thine.
5.
Go, Cupid's rammish Pander, go;
Whose dull, whose low desire
Can find sufficient warmth from Nature's fire;
Spend borrow'd breath, and blow,
Blow wind, made strong with spite:
When thou hast pufft the greater light
Thy lesser spark may shine, and warm the now made night.
6.
Deluded mortalls, tell me when
Your daring breath has blown
Heav'n's Tapour out, and you have spent your own,
What fire shall warm ye then?
Ah fools, perpetuall night
Shall haunt your souls with Stygian fright,
Where they shall boyl in flames, but flames shall bring no light.
S. August .
The sufficiency of my merit is to know that my merit is not sufficient .
S. G REG . Mor. 25.
By how much the lesse man seeth himself, by so much the lesse he displeaseth himself; And by how much the more he seeth the light of Grace by so much the more he disdaineth the light of nature .
S. G REG . Mor.
The light of the understanding humilitie kindleth and pride covereth .
E PIG . I.
Thou blowst heav'n's fire, tho whil'st thou goest about
Rebellious fool, in vain to blow it out:
Thy folly addes confusion to thy death:
Heav'n's fire confounds, when fann'd with Follie's breath.
II
E CCLES . 4. 8.
There is no end of all his labour, neither is his eye satisfied with riches.
O How our wid'ned arms can over-stretch
Their own dimensions! How our hands can retch
Beyond their distance! How our yielding breast
Can shrink, to be more full, and full possest
Of this inferiour Orb! How earth refin'd
Can cling to sordid earth! How kind to kind!
We gape, we grasp, we gripe, adde store to store;
Enough requires too much: too much craves more
We charge our souls so sore beyond their stint
That we recoyl or burst: The busle Mint
Of our laborious thoughts is ever going,
And coyning new desires; desires, not knowing
Where next to pitch, but like the boundlesse Ocean
Gain, and gain ground, and grow more strong by motion.
The pale-fac'd Lady of the black-ey'd night
First tips her horned browes with easie light.
Whose curious train of spangled Nymphs attire
Her next night's glory with encreasing fire;
Each ev'ning addes more luster, and adorns
The growing beauty of her grasping horns:
She sucks and draws her brother's golden store.
Untill her glutted Orb can suck no more,
Ev'n so the Vultur of insatiate minds
Still wants, and wanting seeks, and seeking finds
Now fewel to encrease her rav'nous fire:
The grave is sooner cloyd then men's desire.
We crosse the seas, and 'midst her waves we burn.
Transporting lifes, perchance that ne'r return:
We sack, we ransack to the utmost sands
Of native kingdomes, and of forrein lands;
We travel sea and soyl, we pry, we proul,
We progresse, and we prog from pole to pole:
We spend our mid-day sweat, our mid-night oy!
We tire the night in thought, the day in toyl:
We make Art servil, and the Trade gentile,
(Yet both corrupted with ingenious gulle)
To compasse earth; and with her empty store
To fill our arms, and grasp one handfull more;
Thus seeking rest, our labours never cease,
But as our years, our hot desires encrease:
Thus we, poore little Worlds! (with bloud and sweat)
In vain attempt to comprehend the great;
Thus, in our gain, become we gainfull losers.
And what's enclos'd, encloses the enclosers.
Now Reader, close thy book, and then advise;
Be wisely worldly, be not worldy wise:
Let not thy nobler thoughts be alwayes raking
The world's base dunghill; vermin's took by taking:
Take heed thou trust not the deceitfull lap
Of wanton Dalilah : The world's a trap.
H UGO de Anima
Tell me where be those now that so lately loved and hugg'd the world? Nothing remaineth of them but dust and worms: Observe what those men were; what those men are: They were like thee; they did eat, drink, laugh and led merry dayes, and in a moment slipt into hell. Here their flesh is food for worms; there, their souls are fewell for fire, till they shall be rejoyned in an unhappy fellowship, and cast into eternall torments; where they that were once companions in sinne shall be hereafter partners in punishment .
E PIG . 2.
Gripe, Cupid , and gripe still untill that wind.
That's pent before, find secret vent behind:
And when th' ast done, hark here, I tell thee what
Before I 'll trust thy armfull, I 'll trust that.
III
J OB 18. 8.
He is cast into a net by his own feet, and walketh upon a snare.
1.
W H at nets and quiver too? what need there all
These slie devices to betray poore men?
Die they not fast enough when thousands fall
Before thy dart? what need these engines then?
Attend they not, and answer to thy call,
Like nightly coveys, where thou list and when?
What needs a stratageme where strength can sway?
Or what need strength compell, where none gainsay?
Or what need stratageme or strength, where hearts obey?
2.
Husband thy sleights: It is but vain to wast
Honey on those that will be catcht with gall;
Thou canst not, ah! thou canst not bid so fast
As men obey: thou art more slow to call,
Then they to come; thou canst not make such hast
To strike, as they being struck make hast to fall.
Go save thy nets for that rebellious heart
That scorns thy pow'r, and has obtein'd the art
I avoid thy flying shaft, to quench thy fi'ry dart.
3.
Lost mortall, how is thy destruction sure.
Between two bawds, and both without remorse!
The one's a Line, the tother is a Lure;
This, to entice thy soul; that, to enforce:
Way-laid by both, how canst thou stand secure?
That draws, this wooes thee to th' eternall curse
O charming tyrant, how hast thou befool'd
And slav'd poore man, that would not if he could
Avoid thy line thy lure; nay could not if he would!
4.
Alas thy sweet perfidious voyce betrayes
His wanton ears with thy Sirenian haits;
Thou wrapp'st his eyes in mists, then boldly layes
Thy Lethall gins before their crystall gates;
Thou lock'st up ev'ry Sense with thy false keyes,
All willing pris'ners to thy close deceits:
His eare most nimble where it deaf should be,
His eye most blind where most it ought to see,
And when his heart's most bound then thinks it self most free.
5.
Thou grand Impostour, how hast thou obtein'd
Tho wardship of the world! Are all men turn'd
Idiots and lunaticks? are all retain'd
Beneath thy servile bands? Is none return'd
To his forgotten self? Has none regain'd
His senses? Are their senses all adjourn'd?
What, none dismist thy Court? will no plump fee
Bribo thy false fists to make a glad decree,
I unfool whom thou hast fool'd, and set thy pris'ners free?
S. B ERN . in Ser.
In this world is much treacherie, little truth, here, all things are traps; here, every thing is beset with snares; here, souls are endanger'd, bodies are afflicted: here all things are vanity and vexation of spirit .
E PIG . 3
Nay, Cupid , pitch thy trammit where thou please,
Thou canst not fail to take such fish as these;
Thy thriving sport will ne'r be spent: no need
To fear when ev'ry cork's a world thou it speed.
IV
H OSEA 13. 3.
They shall be as the chaff that is driven with a whirlwind out of the floore, and as the smoke out of the chimney.
Flint-hearted Stoicks, you, whose marble eyes
Contemne a wrinckle, and whose souls despise
To follow Nature's too-affected fashion,
Or travel in the Regent-walk of Passion;
Whose rigid hearts disdain to shrink at fears,
Or play at fast and loose with smiles and tears;
Come, burst your spleens with laughter to behold
A new-found vanitie, which dayes of old
Ne'r knew; a vanitie, that has beset
The world, and made more slaves then Mahomet .
That has condemn'd us to the servile yoke
Of slavery and made us slaves to smoke,
But stay! why tax I thus our modern times,
For new-born follies, and for new-born crimes?
Are we sole guiltie, and the first age free?
No, they were smok'd and slav'd as well as we:
What 's sweet-lipt Honour's blast, but smoke? What 's treasure
But very smoke? And what more smoke then pleasure?
Alas: they 're all but shadows, fumes and blasts:
That vanishes, this fades, the other wasts.
The restlesse Merchant, he that loves to steep
His brains in wealth, and layes his soul to sleep
In bags of Bullion, sees th' immortall Crown;
And fain would mount, but Ingots keep him down:
He brags to-day, perchance, and begs to-morrow;
He lent but now, wants credit now to borrow:
Blow winds, the treasure's gone the merchant 's broke;
A slave to silver 's but a slave to smoke.
Behold the Glory-vying child of fame,
That from deep wounds sucks forth an honour'd name:
That thinks no purchase worth the style of good,
But what is sold for sweat, and seal'd with bloud;
That for a point, a blast of emptie breath
Undaunted gazes in the face of death;
Whose dear-bought bubble, fill'd with vain renown,
Breaks with a phillop, or a Gen'ral's frown:
His stroke-got Honour staggers with a stroke;
A slave to Honour is a slave to smoke.
And that fond soul which wasts bis idle dayes
In loose delights, and sports about the blaze
Of Cupid's candle; he that dayly spies
Twin babies in his mistresse' Geminies
Whereto his sad devotion does impart
The sweet burnt offering of a bleeding heart:
See, how his wings are sing'd in Cyprian fire,
Whose flames consume with youth, in age expire:
The world's a bubble: all the pleasures in it,
Like morning vapours, vanish in a minit:
The vapours vanish, and the bubble's broke:
A slave to pleasure is a slave to smoke.
Now, Stoick, cease thy laughter, and repast
Thy pickled cheeks with tears, and weep as fast.
S. H IERON .
That rich man is great, who thinketh not himself great, because he is rich: the proud man (who is the poore man) braggeth outwardly but beggeth inwardly; he is blown up, but not full .
F EIR . R AV .
Vexation and anguish accompany riches and honour: The pomp of the world and the favour of the people are but smoke, and a blast suddenly vanishing: which, if they commonly please, commonly bring repentance, and for a minute of joy they bring an age of sorrow .
E PIG . 4.
Cupid , thy diet 's strange: It dulls, it rowzes,
It cools, it heats, it binds, and then it looses:
Dull-sprightly cold-hot fool, if ev'r it winds thee
Into a loosenesse once, take heed, it binds thee.
V
P ROVERBS 13. 5.
Wilt thou set thine eyes upon that which is not? for riches make them selves wings they flie away as an Eagle
1.
F A lse world, thou ly'st: Thou canst not lend
The least delight:
Thy favours cannot gain a Friend,
They are so slight:
Thy morning pleasures make an end
To please at night:
Poore are the wants that thou supply'st,
And yet thou vaunt'st, and yet thou vy'st
With heav'n; Fond earth, thou boasts; false world thou ly'st
2.
Thy babbling tongue tels golden tales
Of endlesse treasure;
Thy bountle offers easle sales
Of lasting pleasure:
Thou ask'st the Conscience what she alls.
And swear'st to case her;
There's none can want where thou supply'st:
There's none can give where thou deny'st.
Alas, fond world, thou boasts; false world, thou ly'st
3.
What well-advised eare regards
What earth can say?
Thy words are gold, but thy rewards
Are painted clay;
Thy cunning can but pack the cards;
Thou canst not play;
Thy game at weakest, still thou vy'st;
If seen, and then revy'd, deny'st;
Thou art not what thou seem'st: false world thou ly'st
4.
Thy tinsll-bosome seems a mint
Of new-coin'd treasure,
A Paradise, that has no stint,
No change no measure:
A painted cask, but nothing in 't.
Nor wealth, nor pleasure:
Vain earth! that falsly thus comply'st
With man: Vain man! that thus rely'st
On earth: Vain man thou dot'st: Vain earth, thou ly'st
5.
What mean dull souls, in this high measure
To haberdash
In earth's base wares; whose greatest treasure
Is drosse and trash?
The height of whose inchannting pleasure
Is but a flash?
Are these the goods that thou supply'st
Us mortalls with? Are these the high'st?
Can these bring cordiall peace? False world thou ly'st
P ET . B LES
This world is deceitfull: Her end is doubtfull. Her conclusion is horrible; Her Judge is terrible; And her punishment is intolerable.
S. August lib. Confess.
The vain glory of this world is a deceitfull sweetnesse, a fruitlesse labour, a perpetuall fear, a dangerous honour: Her beginning is without providence, and her end not without repentance .
E PIG . 5.
World, th' art a traytour: thou hast stampt thy base
And chymick metall with great Caesar's face;
And with thy bastard bullion thou hast barter'd
For wares of price: how justly drawn and quarter'd:
VI.
J OB 15. 31.
Let not him that is deceived trust in vanitie, for vanitie shall be his recompense.
1.
B E lieve her not: Her glasse diffuses
False portraitures: thou canst espie
No true reflection: She abuses
Her mis-inform'd beholder's eye:
Her Chrystall's falsly steel'd: It scatters
Deceitfull beams. Believe her not she flatters.
2.
This flaring mirrour represents
No right proportion, blew, or feature:
Her very looks are complements;
They make thee fairer, goodlier, greater:
The skilfull glosse of her reflection
But paints the Context of thy course complexion.
3.
Were thy dimension but a stride,
Nay, wert thou statur'd but a span,
Such as the long-bill'd troops defi'd
A very fragment of a man;
Shee'l make thee Mimas , which ye will.
The Jove-slain tyrant, or th' Ionick hill.
4.
Had surfets or th' ungratious Starre
Conspir'd to make one common-place
Of all deformities that are
Within the volume of thy face;
She'd lend thee favour should out-move
The Troy-bane Hellen or the Queen of Love.
5.
Were thy consum'd estate as poore
As Lazar's or afflicted Job's :
Shee'll change thy wants to seeming store,
And turn thy rags to purple robes:
She'll make thy hide-bound flanck appear
As plump as theirs that feast it all the yeare
6.
Look off; let not thy Opticks be
Abus'd; thou seest not what thou should st:
Thy self's the Object thou should'st see
But 'tis thy shadow thou behold'st;
And shadows thrive the more in stature
The nearer we approach the light of nature
7.
Where Heav'n's bright beams look more direct
The shadow shrinks as they grow stronger:
But when they glaunce their fair aspect,
The bold-fac'd shade growes larger, longer;
And when their lamp begins to fall,
Th increasing shadows lengthen most of all.
8.
The soul that seeks the noon of grace,
Shrinks in, but swells if grace retreat;
As heav'n lifts up, or veils his face,
Our self-esteems grow lesse or great.
The least is greatest; and who shall
Appear the greatest are the least of all.
H UGO lib. de Anima.
In vain he lifteth up the eye of his heart to behold his God, who is not first rightly advised to behold himself; First thou must see the visible things of thy self, before thou canst be prepared to know the invisible things of God, for if thou canst not apprehend the things within thee, thou canst not comprehend the things above thee: The best looking-glasse wherein to see thy God, is perfectly to see thy self .
E PIG . 6.
Be not deceiv'd great fool: There is no losse
In being small; great bulks but swell with drosse.
Man is heav'n's Master-peece: If it appear
More great the value 's lesse; if lesse, more dear
VII.
D EUIERONOMY 30. 19.
I have set before thee life and death, blessing and cursing, therefore choose life, that thou and thy seed may live.
1.
T HE world's a Floore, whose swelling heaps retein
The mingled wages of the Ploughman's toyl;
The world 's a heap, whose yet unwinnowed grain
Is lodg'd with chaff and buried in her soyl;
All things are mixt, the usefull with the vain;
The good with bad, the noble with the vile;
The world's an Ark, wherein things pure and grosse
Present their lossefull gain, and gainfull losse;
Where ev'ry dram of gold conteins a pound of drosse
2.
This furnisht Ark presents the greedy view
With all that earth can give, or Heav'n can add;
Here, lasting Joyes: here, pleasures hourely new
And hourely fading, may be wisht and bad:
All points of Honour, counterfeit and true.
Salute thy soul, and wealth both good and bad:
Here maist thou open wide the two-leav'd doore
Of all thy wishes, to receive that store
Which being empty most does overflow the more
3.
Come then, my soul, approch this royall Burse,
And see what wares our great Exchange retains;
Come, come; here 's that shall make a firm divorce
Betwixt thy wants and thee, if want complains;
No need to sit in councel with thy purse,
Here 's nothing good shall cost more price then pains:
But O my soul, take heed; if thou rely
Upon thy faithlesse Opticks, thou wilt buy
Too blind a bargain: know, fools onely trade by th' eye.
4.
The worldly wisdome of the foolish man
Is like a sieve, that does alone retein
The grosser substance of the worthlesse bran:
But thou, my soul, let thy brave thoughts disdain
So course a purchase; O he thou a fan
To purge the chaff, and keep the winnow'd grain:
Make clean thy thoughts, and dresse thy mixt desires,
Thou art Heav'n's tasker; and thy God requires
The purest of thy floore as well as of thy fires.
5.
Let grace conduct thee to the paths of peace,
And wisdome blesse thy soul's unblemisht wayes;
No matter then, how short or long's the lease,
Whose date determins thy self-numbred dayes:
No need to care for wealth's or fame's increase,
Nor Mars his Palm, nor high Apollo's Bayes,
Lord, if thy gracious bountie please to fill
The floore of my desires, and teach me skill
To dresse and chuse the corn, take those the chaff that will.
S. August . lib. 1. De doct. Christi.
Temporall things more ravish in the expectation, then in fruition: but things eternall more in the fruition then expectation .
Ibidem.
The life of man is the middle between Angels and beasts: If man takes pleasure in carnall things, he is compared to beasts; but if he delights in spirituall things he is suited with Angels .
E PIG . 7.
Art thou a child? Thou wilt not then be fed,
But like a child and with the children's bread:
But thou art fed with chaff, or corn undrest:
My soul thou savour'st too much of the beast.
VIII.
P HILIPPIANS 3. 19.
They mind earthly things, but our conversation is in Heaven.
Venus. Div. Cupid.
Ven. W H at means this peevish brat? Whish, lullaby,
What ails my babe? what ails my babe to cry?
Will nothing still it? will it neither be
Pleas'd with the nurse's breast nor mother's knee?
What ails my bird? what moves my froward boy
To make such whimp'ring faces? Peace, my joy:
Will nothing do? Come, come, this pettish brat
Thus cry and bawl, and cannot tell for what?
Come busse and friends, my lambe; whish, lullaby
What ails my babe? what ails my babe to cry?
Peace, peace my dear; alas, thy early years
Had never faults to merit half these teares;
Come smile upon me: Let thy mother sple
Thy father's image in her babie's eye:
Husband these guiltlesse drops against the rage
Of harder fortunes, and the gripes of age;
Thine eye's not ripe for tears: whish, lullaby;
What ails my babe, my sweet-fac'd babe to cry?
Look, look, what 's here! A dainty golden thing:
See how the dancing bells turn round and ring
To please my bantling I here 's a knack will breed
A hundred kisses: here 's a knack indeed.
So, now my bird is white, and looks as fair
As Pelops ' shoulder, or my milk-white pair:
Here's right the father's smile; when Mars beguil'd
Sick Venus of her heart just thus he smil'd.
Divine Cupid
Well may they smile alike; thy base bred boy
And his base sire had both one cause, a toy:
How well their subjects and their smiles agree!
Thy Cupid finds a toy, and Mars found thee!
False Queen of beauty, Queen of false delights
Thy knee presents an Embleme, that invites
Man to himself, whose self-transported heart
(Ov'rwhelm'd with native sorrows, and the smart
Of purchas'd griefs) lies whining night and day.
Not knowing why, till heavy-heeld delay.
The dull-brow'd Pander of despair, layes by
His leaden buskins, and presents his eye
With antick trifles; which th' indulgent earth
Makes proper objects of man's childish mirth.
These be the coyn that passe, the sweets that please;
There 's nothing good, there 's nothing great but these:
These be the pipes that base-born minds dance after
And turn immod'rate tears to lavish laughter;
Whilst Heav'nly raptures passe without regard:
Their strings are harsh and their high strains unheard:
The plough-man's whistle or the triviall flute
Find more respect then great Apollo's late:
We'll look to Heav'n and trust to higher joyes;
Let swine love husks, and children whine for toyes.
S. B ERN .
That is the true and chief joy, which is not conceived from the creature but received from the Creatour; which (being once possest thereof) none can take from thee: whereto all pleasure being compared is torment, all joy is grief, sweet things are bitter, all glory is basenesse, and all delectable things are despicable .
S. B ERN .
Joy in a changeable subject must necessarily change as the subject changeth .
E PIG . 8
Peace, childish Cupid , peace: thy finger'd eye
But cries for what, in time, will make thee cry:
But are thy peevish wranglings thus appeas'd?
Well maist thou cry, thou art so poorely pleas'd.
IX
I SAIAH 10. 3.
What will ye do in the day of your visitation? to whom will ye flie for help? and where will ye leave your glory?
1.
I S this that jolly God, whose Cyprian bowe
Has shot so many flaming darts,
And made so many wounded Beauties go
Sadly perplext with whimp'ring hearts?
Is this that Sov'raign Deity that brings
The slavish world in awe, and stings
The blund'ring souls of swains, and stoops the hearts of Kings.
2.
What Circean charm, what Hecatean spight
Has thus abus'd the God of love?
Great Jove was vanquisht by his greater might;
(And who is stronger-arm'd then Jove ?)
Or has our lustfull god perform'd a rape,
And (fearing Argus ' eyes) would scape
The view of jealous earth, in this prodigious shape?
3.
Where be those rosie cheeks, that lately scorn'd
The malice of injurious Fates?
Ah, where 's that pearl Percullis, that adorn'd
Those dainty two-leav'd Ruby gates?
Where be those killing eyes, that so controul'd
The world? And locks, that did infold.
Like knots of flaming wire, like curles of burnisht gold?
4.
No, no, 't was neither Hecatean spite
Nor charm below, nor pow'r above;
T was neither Circe's spell, nor Stygian sprite.
That thus transform'd our god of Love;
'Twas owl-eyed Lust (more potent farre then they)
Whose eyes and actions hate the day:
Whom all the world observe, whom all the world obay
5.
Se how the latter Trumpet's dreadfull blast
Affrights stout Mars his trembling son!
Se, how he startles! how he stands agast,
And scrambles from his melting Throne!
Hark, how the direfull hand of vengeance tears
The swelt'ring clouds, whilst Heav'n appears
A circle fill'd with flame; and center'd with his fears.
6.
This is that day, whose oft report hath worn
Neglected tongues of Prophets bare:
The faithlesse subject of the worldling's scorn
The summe of men and Angels' pray'r:
This, this the day whose All-discerning light
Ransacks the secret dens of night,
And severs good from bad: true joyes from false delight.
7.
You grov'ling worldlings you, whose wisdome trades
Where light nev'r shot his golden ray;
That hide your actions in Cimerian shades
How will your eyes indure this day?
Hills will be deaf, and mountains will not heare;
There will be no caves, no corners there,
To shade your souls from fire, to shield your hearts from fear.
H UGO .
O the extreme loathsomnesse of fleshly lust, which not onely effeminates the mind, but enerves the body; which not onely distaineth the soul, but disguiseth the person! It is ushered with fury and wantonnesse; it is accompanied with filthinesse and uncleannesse: and it is followed with grief and repentance .
E PIG 9.
What? sweet-fac'd Cupid , has thy bastard-treasure
Thy boasted honours, and thy bold-fac'd pleasure
Perplext thee now? I told thee long ago,
To what they'd bring thee fool To wit to woe .
X
N AHUM 2. 10.
She is emptie, and void, and waste.
1.
S H e's emptie: hark, she sounds: there's nothing there
But noyse to fill thy care;
Thy vain enquiry can at length but find
A blast of murm'ring wind:
It is a cask that seems as full as fair
But merely tunn'd with aire:
Fond youth go build thy hopes on better grounds:
The soul that vainly founds
Her joyes upon this world but feeds on emptie sounds.
2.
She's emptie: hark, she sounds; there 's nothing in 't
The spark-ingend'ring flint
Shall sooner melt, and hardest munce shall first
Dissolve and quench thy thirst:
E're this false world shall still thy stormy breast
With smooth-fac'd calms of rest:
Thou mayst as well expect Meridian light
From shades of black-mouth'd night
As in this emptie world to find a full delight.
3.
She 's empty; hark, she sounds; 'tis void and vast;
What if some flatt'ring blast
Of flatnous honour should perchance be there
And whisper in thine care:
It is but wind and blows but where it list,
And vanishes like a mist:
Poore honour earth can give! What gen'rous mind
Would be so base to bind
Her Heav'n-bred soul a slave to serve a blast of wind?
4.
She 's empty: hark, she sounds: 'tis but a ball
For fools to play withall:
The painted film but of a stronger bubble,
That 's lin'd with silken trouble:
It is a world whose work and recreation
Is vanity and vexation?
A Hagg repair'd with vice-complexion, paint,
A quest-house of complaint:
It is a saint a fiend; worse fiend, when most a saint.
5.
She's empty: hark she sounds: 'tis vain and void.
What 's here to be enjoyed,
But grief and sicknesse, and large bills of sorrow,
Drawn now, and crost to-morrow?
Or what are men, but puffs of dying breath,
Reviv'd with living death?
Fond lad. O build thy hopes on surer grounds
Then what dull flesh propounds:
Trust not this hollow world she 's empty: hark she sounds.
S. C HRYS . in Ep. ad Heb.
Contemne riches; and thou shall be rich, contemne glory, and thou shall be glorious: contemne injuries, and thou shall be a conquerour; contemne rest, and thou shall gain rest contemne earth and thou shalt find Heaven .
H UGO . lib. do Vanit. Mundi.
The world is a vanity which affordeth neither beauty to the amorous, nor reward to the laborious nor incouragement to the industrious.
E PIG . 10.
This house is to be let for life or years;
Her rent is sorrow, and her In-come teares:
Cupid , 't as long stood void; her bills make known
She must be dearly let; or let alone.
XI
M ATTHEW 7. 14.
Narrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it
P R epost'rous fool, thou troul'st amisse;
Thou err'st; that 's not the way 'tis this:
Thy hopes, instructed by thine eye,
Make thee appear more near then I;
My floore is not so flat, so fine,
And has more obvious rubs then thine:
'Tis true; my way is hard and strait,
And leads me through a thorny gate,
Whose ranckling pricks are sharp and fell;
The common way to Heav'n's by hell:
'Tis true; thy path is short and fair
And free of rubs: Ah fool, beware,
The safest road 's not alwayes ev'n;
The way to Hell's a seeming Heav'n.
Think'st thou, the Crown of Glory 's had
With idle ease fond Cyprian lad?
Think'st thou, that mirth, and vain delights,
High feed, and shadow-shortning nights,
Soft knees, full bones, and beds of down
Are proper Prologues to a Crown?
Or canst thou hope to come and view
Like prosperous Caesar , and subdue?
The bondslave Usurer will trudge
In spite of Gouts; will turn a drudge,
And serve his soul-condemning purse,
T' increase it with the widow's curse:
And shall the Crown of glory stand
Not worth the waving of a hand?
The fleshly wanton to obtain
His minute-lust, will count it gain
To lose his freedome, his estate.
Upon so dear, so sweet a rate;
Shall pleasures thus be priz'd, and must
Heav'n's Palm be cheaper then a lust?
The true-bred Spark, to hoise his name
Upon the waxen wings of fame;
Will fight undaunted in a flood
That 's rals'd with brackish drops and bloud:
And shall the promis'd Crown, of life
Be thought a toy, not worth a strife?
An easie good brings easie gains;
But things of price are bought with pains:
The pleasing way is not the right:
He that would conquer Heav'n must fight.
S. H IERON . in Ep.
No labour is hard, no time is long wherein the glory of Eternitie is the mark we levell at .
S. G REO . lib. 8. Mor.
The valour of a just man is to conquer the flesh, to contradict his own will, to quench the delights of this present life, to endure and love the miseries of this world for the reward of a better, to contemn the flatteries of prosperitie and inwardly to overcome the fears of adversitie .
E PIG . 11
O Cupid , if thy smoother way were right,
I should mistrust this Crown were counterfeit:
The way 's not easle where the Prize is great:
I hope no virtues where I smell no sweat.
XII.
G AIATIANS 6. 14.
God forbid that I should glory, save in the Crosse.
1.
C A n nothing settle my uncertain breast,
And fix my rambling love?
Can my affections find out nothing best?
But still and still remove?
Has earth no mercy? will no Ark of rest
Receive my restlesse Dove?
Is there no Good, then which there 's nothing higher
To blesse my full desire
With joyes that never change; with joyes that nev'r expire?
2.
I wanted wealth; and at my dear request,
Earth lent a quick supply;
I wanted mirth to charm my sullen breast;
And who more brisk then I?
I wanted fame to glorifie the rest;
My fame flew eagle-high:
My joy not fully ripe, but all decay'd:
Wealth vanisht like a shade,
My mirth began to flag my fame began to fade.
3.
The world 's an Ocean, hurried to and fro
With ev'ry blast of passion:
Her lustfull streams, when either ebb or flow,
Are tides of man's vexation:
They alter dayly and they dayly grow
The worse by alteration:
The earth's a cask full-tunn'd, yet wanting measure;
Her precious wind, is pleasure;
Her yest is honour's puff; her lees are worldly treasure.
4.
My trust is in the Crosse: let Beauty flag
Her loose, her wanton sall;
Let count'nance-gilding Honour cease to brag
In courtly tearms, and vail;
Let ditch-bred wealth henceforth forget to wag
Her base though golden tail;
False beautie's conquest is but reall losse,
And wealth but golden drosse;
Best Honour's but a blast: my trust is in the Crosse.
5.
My trust is in the Crosse: There lies my rest;
My fast my sole delight:
Let cold-mouth'd Boreas, or the hot-mouth'd East
Blow till they burst with spight:
Let earth and hell conspire their worst, their best
And joyn their twisted might:
Let showres of thunderbolts dart down and wound me
And troups of fiends surround me,
All this may well confront; all this shall nev'r confound me.
S. August .
Christ's Crosse is the Chriscrosse of all our happinesse: It delivers us from all blindnesse of errour, and enriches our darknesse with light; It restoreth the troubled soul to rest; It bringeth strangers to God's acquaintance; It maketh remote forreiners near neighbours; It cutteth off discord; concludeth a league of everlasting peace and is the bounteous authour of all good .
S. B ERN . in Ser. de Resur.
We find glory in the Crosse; to us that are saved it is the power of God and the fulnesse of all virtues .
E PIG 12.
I follow'd rest, rest fled and soon forsook me;
I ran from grief, grief ran and over-took me.
What shall I do? lest I be too much tost
On worldly crosses, Lord, let me be crost.
XIII.
P ROVERBS 26 11
As a dog returneth to his vomit, so a fool returneth to his folly.
O I am wounded I and my wounds do smart
Beyond my patience, or great Chiron's art:
I yield, I yield; the day, the palm is thine;
Thy bow's more true; thy shafts more fierce then mine
Hold, hold, O hold thy conq'ring hand. What need
To send more darts? the first has done the deed:
Oft have we struggled, when our equall arms
Shot equall shafts, inflicted equall harms;
But this exceeds, and with her flaming head,
Twyfork'd with death, has struck my conscience dead.
But must I die? Ah me! If that were all,
Then, then I'd stroke my bleeding wounds, and call
This dart a cordiall, and with joy endure
These harsh ingredients, where my grief's my cure
But something whispers in my dying eare,
There is an after-day; which day I fear:
The slender debt to Nature's quickly paid,
Discharg'd perchance with greater ease then made;
But if that pale-fac'd Sergeant make arrest,
Ten thousand actions would (whereof the least
Is more then all this lower world can bail)
Be entred, and condemn me to the jail
Of Stygian darknesse; bound in red-hot chains,
And grip'd with tortures worse then Titian pains.
Farewell my vain, farewell my loose delights;
Farewell my rambling dayes, my rev'ling nights;
'T was you betrayd' me first, and, when ye found
My soul at vantage, gave my soul the wound:
Farewell my bullion gods, whose sov'reigne looks
So often catch'd me with their golden hooks:
Go, seek another slave; ye must all go;
I cannot serve my God and Bullion too.
Farewell false honour; you, whose ayry wings
Did mount my soul above the thrones of kings;
Then flatter'd me, took pet and in disdain.
Nipt my green buds; then kickt me down again:
Farewell my Bow; farewell my Cyprian Quiver;
Farewell dear world, farewell dear world for ever
O, but this most delicious world, how sweet
Her pleasures relish! Ah! How jump they meet
The grasping soul! and with their sprightly fire
Revive, and raise, and rowze the rapt desire!
For ever? O, to part so long? what? never
Meet more? another year, and then for ever:
Too quick resolves do resolution wrong;
What part so soon, to be divorc'd so long?
Things to be done are long to be debated;
Heav'n is not day'd. Repentance is not dated.
S. August . lib. de Util. Agen. Paen.
Go up my soul into the tribunall of thy Conscience; There set thy guiltie self before thy self: Hide not thy self behind thy self, least God bring thee forth before thy self .
S. August . in Soliloq.
In vain is that washing, where the next-sinne defileth: He hath ill repented whose sinnes are repeated: that stomach is the worse for vomiting, that licketh up his vomit .
A NSELM .
God hath promised pardon to him that repenteth but he hath not promised repentance to him that sinneth .
E PIO . 13.
Brain-wounded Cupid , had this hasty dart,
As it hath prickt thy fancy pierc'd thy heart.
'T had been thy friend: O how has it deceiv'd thee!
For had this dart but kill'd this dart had sav'd thee.
XIV
P ROVERBS 24 16
A just man falleth seven times and riseth up again, but the wicked shall fall into mischief .
1.
'T is but a foyl at best, and that 's the most
Your skill can boast:
My slipp'ry footing fail'd me; and you tript
Just as I slipt:
Me wanton weaknesse did her self betray
With too much play:
I was too bold: He never yet stood sure,
That stands secure:
Who ever trusted to his native strength,
But fell at length?
The Title's craz'd, the Tenure is not good,
That claims by th' evidence of flesh and bloud.
2.
Boast not thy skill; the righteous man falls oft,
Yet falls but soft:
There may be dirt to mire him but no stones
To crush his bones:
What if he staggers? Nay, put case he be
Foyl'd on his knee;
That very knee will bend to Heav'n, and woo
For mercy too,
The true-bred Gamester ups a fresh, and then,
Falls to 't agen;
Whereas the leaden-hearted coward lies.
And yields his conquer'd life, or craven'd dies.
3.
Boast not thy Conquest; thou, that ev'ry hour
Fall'st ten times lower;
Nay hast not pow'r to rise, if not in case
To fall more base:
Thou wallow'st where I slip; and thou dost tumble
Where I but stumble:
Thou glory'st in thy slav'rie's dirty badges.
And fall'st for wages:
Sowr grief and sad repentance scowrs and clears
My stains with tears:
Thy falling keeps thy falling still in ure;
But when I slip I stand the more secure.
4.
Lord what a nothing is this little Span,
We call a Man!
What fenny trash mainteins the smoth ring fires
Of his desires!
How sleight and short are his resolvs at longest!
How weak at strongest!
O if a sinner held by thy right hand
Can hardly stand,
Good God! in what a desp'rate case are they
That have no stay!
Man's state implyes a necessary curse;
When not himself, he 's mad; when most himself he 's worse.
S. A MBEROS . in Serm. ad Vincula.
Peter stood more firmly after he had lamented his fall, then before he fell. Insomuch that he found more grace then he lost grace .
S. C HRYS in Ep. ad Heliod. Monach.
It is no such hainous matter to fall afflicted; as being down to lie dejected: It is no danger for a souldier to receive a wound in battel, but after the wound received, through despair of recovery, to refuse a remedy for we often see wounded Champions wear the Palm at last and after flight crowned with victory .
E PIG 14.
Triumph not, Cupid , his mischance doth show
Thy trade; doth once, what thou dost alwayes do;
Brag not too soon; has thy prevalling hand
Foil'd him? Ah fool, th 'ast taught him how to stand?
XV.
J EREMIAH 32. 40
I will put my fear in their hearts, that they shall not depart from me.
S O , now the soul 's sublim'd; her sowre desires
Are recalcin'd in heav'n's well-tempred fires:
The heart restor'd and purg'd from drossie nature
Now finds the freedome of a new-born creature:
It lives another life, it breaths now breath;
It neither feels nor fears the sting of death.
Like as the idle vagrant (having none)
That boldly 'dopts each house he views his own.
Makes ev'ry purse his chequer; and at pleasure
Walks forth, and taxes all the world like Caesar
At length by vertue of a just command,
His sides are lent to a severer hand;
Whereon his passe, not fully understood
Is texted in a manuscript of blood;
Thus past from town to town, untill he come
A sore repentant to his native home:
Ev'n so the rambling heart, that idly roves
From crimes to sin, and uncontroul'd removes
From lust to lust; when wanton flesh invites
From old worn pleasures to new choice delights;
At length corrected by the fillall rod
Of his offended (but his gracious God)
And lasht from sins to sighs: and by degrees,
From sighs to vows from vows to bended knees,
From bended knees, to a true pensive breast;
From thence to torments, not by tongues exprest
Returns: (and from his sinfull self exil'd)
Finds a glad father, he a welcome child:
O then it lives; O then it lives involv'd
In secret raptures; pants to be dissolv'd:
The royall Of-spring of a second Birth
Sets ope to Heav'n, and shuts the doors to earth:
If love-sick Jove commanded clouds should hap
To rain such show'rs as quickned Danae's lap:
Or dogs (far kinder then their purple master)
Should lick his sores, he laughs nor weeps the faster
If earth (Heav'n's rivall), dart her idle ray;
To Heav'n, 'tis wax, and to the world, 'tis clay:
If earth present delights, it scorns to draw,
But like the jet unrubb'd, disdains that straw:
No hope deceives it and no doubt divides it;
No grief disturbs it, and no errour guides it;
No fear distracts it, and no rage inflames it;
No guilt condemns it, ad no folly shames it;
No sloth besots it, and no lust inthralls it;
No scorn afflicts it, and no passion gawls it:
It is a carknet of immortall life;
An Ark of peace; the lists of sacred strife;
A purer piece of endlesse transitory;
A shrine of Grace a little throne of Glory:
A Heav'n-born Of-spring of a new-born birth;
An earthly Heav'n; an ounce of Heav'nly earth.
S. August de Spir. & Anima.
O happy heart, where pietie affecteth, where humility subjects, where repentance correcteth, where obedience directeth, where perseverance perfecteth, where power protecteth, where devotion projecteth, where charitie connecteth .
S. G REG .
Which way soever the heart surneth itself (if carefully) it shall commonly observe, that in those very things we lose God, in those very things we shall find God: It shall find the heat of his power in consideration of those things, in the love of which things he was most cold, and by what things it fell, perverted, by those things it is raised converted .
E PIG 15
My heart! but wherefore do I call thee so?
I have renounc'd my int'rest long ago:
When thou wert false and fleshly, I was thine;
Mine wert thou never till thou wert not mine.
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