Abuses stript, and whipt. Or Satirical essayes. By George Wyther. Diuided into two bookes

OF SORROW.

SATYR. 16.

OF this said Passion I may knowledge take, And wel say som-what for acquaintance sake, I heare it is complain'd vpon of many, Yet I dare say it seldome hurteth any, Excepting those by whom 'tis entertain'd, And such indeed haue with iust cause complain'd: For whilest they keepe it they shall neuer rest, 'Tis so vntam'd and troublesome a guest: Yet such a guest, though he his host diseases, 'Tis thought he cannot rid him when he pleases. Yet if that man would vse the meanes he might, Sure by degrees he might out-weare it quite; Yea tis his part and duty. For should he, That must on ••arth Iehouahs Viceroy be? Should he to whom his soueraigne Lord hath giuen A Countenance for to behold the Heauen? Should he, I say, blot out this manly grace, And groueling turne to earth his blubber'd face? It were a shame: yet more shall he that saith, He is a Christian and seemes t'haue faith, For losse of friends; when there's no remedy, Be passionate in such extremity, That childish teares not onely staines his face, (Which may be borne withall in such a case)

But also raues, growes furious, and extends His griefe past reasons limits; who commends A man for that Say, is it any lesse, Then to deny by deed what words professe? For who would think which fees how he bewailes, The losse of breath that in a moment failes, That he beleeues, but rather thinke 'tis vaine, To hope or trust, the flesh shall rise againe; Or that there were, as holy Scripture saith, Any reward for them that die in faith. It's a plaine token of a misbeliefe, When Christians so ore whelme themselues with greef : And therefore though I doe not discommend, The moderate bewailing of a friend; I wish the Extreame hereof men might despise, Least they doe their profession Scandalize: Beside though as I seem'd to say before, Vnles 't be common, 'tis no common sore, Because it hurts but those that entertaine it, Yet were it good if all men could refraine it; For it not onely makes mans visage be Wried, Deform'd, and wrinkled as we see, Himselfe exiling from the common eye, To vexe and greeue alone, he knowes not why: But also brings diseases with his death, By the vntimely stopping of his breath. ••t makes his friends to loath his company, And greatly hinders his commoditie, For who for dealings in affaires is fit, Vnlesse with good will he attendeth it.

And howsoere it seeme, yet surely this, As farre from vertue as bad pleasure is, For as through one one we to much euill runne, So many good things th' other leaues vndone: I wonder that this Passion should touch, The harts of men to make them greeue so much As many doe, for present miseries; Haue they no feeling of felicities, That are to come? If that they be in paine, Let hope giue ease; It will not alwaies raine, Calmes doe the roughest stormes that are attend, And th' longest night that is will haue an end. But 'tis still bad thou saist, take't patiently, An age is nothing to eternitie, Thy times not here: Enuy not though that some Seeme to thee happy; their bad day's to come, And if thou knew'st the griefe they must sustaine, Thou would'st not thinke so hardly of thy paine: I must confesse 'twas once a fault of mine, At euery misaduenture to repine; I sought preferment, and it fled me still, Whereat I greeu'd, and thought my fortune ill; I vext to see some in prosperitie, Deride and scoffe at my aduerstie; But since aduis'd, and weighing in my minde The course of things, I soone began to finde The vainenesse of them; these I saw of late In bliss, (as I thought) scorning my estate, I see now ebbing, and the once-full tide That ouer-flow'd the lofty banks of pride,

Hath left them like the sand shore, bare and dry, And almost in as poore a case as I. Besides, I view'd my daies, now gone and past, And how my fortunes from the first to th' last Were link't together; I obseru'd, I say, Each Chance and Deed of mine, from day to day, That memory could keep; yet found I none, Not one thing in my life that was alone: But still it either did depend on some That was already passed, or to come; Yea, the most childish, idle trifling thing, That seemed no Necessitie to bring; In that hath the Beginnings oft been hid, Of some the waightiest things that ere I did: But cheefely to abate the excessiue ioying, In worldly things; and to preuent th' annoying Of any sorrow, this I noted thence, (And euer-since haue made it a defence For both these passions) I haue truely seene, That those things wherewith I haue ioyed beene▪ Highly delighted, and the dearest lou'd, Euen those very things haue often prou'd, My cheefest Care: And I haue found againe, That which I deem'd my greatest losse, or paine, And wherewithall I haue been most anoyd, And should haue deem'd a blessing to auoid; That which my heart hath ask't for; and wherein, I thought me most vnhappy; that hath bin The ground of my best••ioyes: For which cause, I Aduise all men that are in misery

To stand vnmou'd, for why they doe not know Whether it be to them for good or no: They ought not for to murmur nor to pine At any thing, shall please the powers Deuine To lay vpon them: for my mind is this, Each sorrow is an entrance into Blisse. And that the greatest pleasure we attaine; Is but a Signe of some insuing Paine. But to be plainer, this our life 's a toy, That hath nought in it worth our griefe or Ioy: But there are some base-minded dunghill elues, That sorrow not for any but themselues. Or if they doe 'tis onely for the losse Of some old crest-falne lade; But that's a crosse Past bearing; be it but a rotten sheep, Or two stale egs, they will such yelling keep, As if thereby had perished a brood, In which consisted halfe the kingdomes good: But I intreat them since it must befall, They would be patient; who can doe withall? And also let them of much Griefe beware; For there's small ods betweene the same and Care: And they haue heard (I need not tell them that) 'Tis an old saying, Care will kill a Cat. Then let them take heart, chiefly since they see, None liue but sometime they must loosers be, VVhich is an ease: for I haue heard them tell, With mates they care not, if they goe to hell. But in good earnest now let vs not runne, Willingly hereinto as we haue done;

Rather auoid it as a hurtfull foe, That can effect nought but our ouerthrow: And yet instead receiue into our breast, An honest mirth, which is a better guest; And whatso'ere our former griefe hath been, Let vs nere sorrow more, but for our Sinne: Thus with this Passion end the rest will I, Because it ends not till our End is nigh.