Diuine fancies digested into epigrammes, meditations, and observations / by Fra. Quarles.

DIVINE FANCIES. (Book 3)

The third Booke. (Book 3)

1.

On old Wine and new.

OLd crazy Casks are not designd to hold New-Wines; nor yet new Vessells, 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.

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 stricken 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 she? The Reason's easie to be riddeld 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, to th' left hand, or the right, It offers to thine eye, but painted Toyes, Poore antick Pleasures, and deceitfull Ioyes.

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 Judge.

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 Cocke 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.

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? Admit we could; could we appoint the hower? The Voyce that calls, gives, and gives then the power.

8.

On Sinne.

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 difference 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.

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 sinnes, thou didst commit, And not commit those sinnes, 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; where withall to fill Gods empty B••ttle: 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 easie to poure in: But few, I doubt, Attaine that curious Art, of pouring out: Some poure their hearts, like oyle, that there resides An unctions substance still, about the sides: Others, like Wine; which, though the substance passe, Does leave a kinde of savour in the Glasse;

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.

12.

On Friends.

GOd sheild me from those friends, I trust; and be My firme defence from such, as trust not Thee.

13.

On the Hypocrite.

HEe's like a Bul-rush; seems so smooth, that not The eye of Cato can discry a knot: Pill but the Barke, and strip his smoother skin, And thou shalt find him spungie, all within: His browes are alwaies 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 does implore; Toth'end, that he might safely come ashore.

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 Devils Art can show, To make man proud, because he is not so.

16.

On our Saviours Fishing.

WHen as our blessed Saviour tooke in hand To be a Fisher; Marke 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.

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? Whosoere 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;

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: From 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:

Vntill, at length, by his ingenious Itch, Hee's brought most poore, in seeking to be rich: Such is the Civillman; 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 jerks 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 Interest, when the purchase was in Fee! Thou mad'st a cleane Conveyance to the Ten, And ne'r 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:

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 JVDAS.

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 doe 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 case. And in one Iubile, enjoyes 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:

Thy empty Costers had not to defray Thy Tribute charge: To him Kings Tribute pay; Foxes haue 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!

31.

On the Tables of Stone.

THat stony Table could receive the print Of thy just 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 Soul, 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.

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 JACOB.

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 Jacob 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.

36.

On Drunkennesse.

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

37.

On a Tenis-Court.

MAn is a Tenis-Court: His Flesh, the Wall: The Gamesters 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 chaulk 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 ne'r 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.

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'••, 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 keeps th' Exchequer, 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?

Or canst thou judge that Fier, clos'd about With rak'd up Embers, 'cause not scene, 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 Tower 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 Plot, 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 JACOB.

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:

O, if the Church my Mother will instruct me; Make savory Meate, and cloath me, and 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.

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 to th' 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 to th' Pit of Hell.

43.

On these Showers.

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

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'r: Nay Lord; if now and then those Beames do chance To breake upon's, and lend a feeble glaunce Vpon our reeking soules, ere we begin To feele the warmth, w'are dous'd and 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 Prayers, nor Songs: Our Zeales are Aguish; hot and cold: They be Extreamely 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 mischiefes 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 cleare 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 m•••••• 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;

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 eare With what he hop'd, and in a lovers fashion, He oft repeates 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:

His present meanes were short: He made profession Of a faire Ioynture, though but small possession: And in 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 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Her thoughts approve The last, for present wealth, the first, for love:

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 weake thoughts reward Two so unequall, with a like Respect? Knowst thou not which to slight, & which t'affect? Submit to better judgement, 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 to th'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 ••or 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:

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

46.

On the old and new Garment.

NEw Garments being brought, who is't that would Not scorne to live a Pris'ner to the Old? Yet though our bo••nteous Saviour, at his cost, Presents us new, we love the old ones most: Alas, they pinch us! O, they sit 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 Jades, our better wils repayre To a foule Stable, then t'a Rod•• that's faire.

47.

On Mans co-operation.

WE 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 hee food, that thinkes it vaine to gape? Christ takes his Spouse by Contract, not by Rape.

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 fashions 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 use: No, no; the beauty of his Picture lies Within; Tis th'object of our Faith, not Eyes.

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 here? Let thy heart cheare thee: What delicious Cheare? In thy young dayes; Thy Cates will relish sweeter. Walk thy owne wayes: Thy Cares will passe the fleeter: Please thine own heart: Carve where it likes thee best: Delight thine eyes: And be a Joyfull Guest:

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 extreamely deare: Lord, I have 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 bit of Bread: And understand, VVhat 'tis thou holdest in thy carelesse hand: Observe it with thy thoughts, and it will reade thee An usefull Lecture, ev'n as well as feed thee; VVe stirre our Lands, or give directions how; But God must send a season for the Plough: VVe sow our Seede; But sowe our seed in vaine, If Heav'n deny the first, the later Raine; Small proofe in Showrs, if heau'ns pleas'd hand shall cease To blesse those showrs, nor crowne thē with encrease.

The tender Blades appeare, before thine eye, But, uarefresht by heav'n, as soone they die: 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 shall clear the weather: 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 should sweat, can make them I, but the Sheaves are thrasht, & the heap lies In thy full Garnier. He that sent the Flyes fire; To Pharees Court, can, with as great an ease, Send thee more wastfull vermin if he please: Perchance 'tis grounded, 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 stomack's dainty to digest. No, if heav'ns following favour doe 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 Dog should fawne Vpon thy lappe, let not so deare a Pawne

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 fees the Fire; This, only but the Flint; The true-bred Christian alwayes lookes asquint.

55.

On Carnall Mirth.

VVHo seeks to quench by help of Carnal frends Those fiery Errants that the consciēce 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.

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.

VVHat 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 Prayer.

58.

On a Gift.

NO losse to give to thee; the gift is more Our owne, being giv'n, great God; then 'twas be∣fore.

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 sanctifi'd to me.

61.

On Mans Love.

WHen think we, Lord: on thee! & when we doe, 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 chiefe respects Have meere relation to our owne Defects, Like Dogs we fawne upon our Masters Lapps, With dirty feet, and only love for Scrapps.

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; usurpe the name of Pure; That we may sin more closely, more secure, We love thee onely 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

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 allaid with Sadnesse, It would be Madnesse: While this, with that, or that, with this contends, They're both my Friends: But when these happy Wars 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 marshall'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

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; unlesse my better Gaine could thrive In Christ; unlesse my better Wealth grow rich In Christ; unlesse 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 fores 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!

68.

On Death.

WE 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 os'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 strrngth; 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 Iournies end: Some ride upon the racking Steeds of Treasure; Others false-gallop on the backs of Pleasure: All journey 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 Roade, 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 Fast, and so, away:

Others stay Dinner, and depart full fed; The deepest Age but sups, 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, 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 Objects 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:

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 Pencell; 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 doe 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,

That works ith' Vin••yard: Equall price was shar'd T'unequall workes: 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 D••ve; 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.

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 joyes; 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

Honour, and Riches are the Crummes that feed The D••ggs that lurk beneath their Masters Table: Lord, if thy gracious pleasure will allow But Bread, I'am 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, & commended Such things alone, that were above his Reach; But meanly slighted what he appprehended: 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 reform'd as they: They curb the fury of their wanton Ryot, And call their Surfets to a stricter Dyet: The Time expir'd, the first Assault that haps, Prevailes, and strikes them to a worse Relaps;

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

80.

On Faith.

TH'oft shaken Tree growes faster at the root; And faith's most firm, that's somtimes urg'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, Being 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:

Whose Moysture, dry'd with his owne sorrow, must Resolve, and leave him to his former Dust; VVhich Dust, the utter object of our loathing, Small time consumes, & brings to his first Nothing: Thus, from this Nothing, from this Dust, began Thus 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, VVithout a Punishment, without a Sin, VVhat shall become of those, whose unjust power Dispoyles the widdowed Temple of her Dower: VVho take her Profits, and in stead of giving Encrease to her revenues, make a living Vpon her Ruines, growing plump and full Vpon her Wants, being cloathed in her Wooll; VVhile she sustains th'extremes of cold and hunger, To pamper up the fat Advousion-monger; VVho thrust their Flesh-hooks in their thristy 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 VVith the deare price of their ungranted Prayres:

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, thinke 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 t'other too:

Sophronia's in a strait; One eye is 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?

85.

On the knowing Man.

HEe's like 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.

88.

On formall Devotion.

MEn doe God Service with the same devotion, As the soule 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 no Ephaths, nor yet Omers here: We take, unmeasur'd, from the bounteous heape; Thanks never were so deare: not that, so cheape: VVe 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 sleight, and wanton with our Bread: Ah Lord! I feare when carelesse children play VVith their spoyl'd Bread, 'tis time to take away.

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 into '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 should 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 Sin, but to prevent a Shame?

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 Joyes present me with a joyfull Peace: Looke on my left hand; There, my Fathers Rod Sublimes my knowledge, from my selfe, to God: Looke forward; 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 Objects 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.

95.

On the worlds Welcome.

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

96.

On our Meditation upon God.

VVHen thy ambitious knowledge would 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 Beeing, 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.

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 ne'r so sweet; this, ne'r so faire: Yet Man, heav'ns 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 Glory.

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.

100.

On Reward.

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

The end of the third Booke.