Britain's remembrancer containing a narration of the plague lately past; a declaration of the mischiefs present; and a prediction of iudgments to come; (if repentance prevent not.) It is dedicated (for the glory of God) to posteritie; and, to these times (if they please) by Geo: Wither.

BRITTAN'S REMEMBRANCER.

Canto the first.

Our Author first with GOD beginnes; Describ••s his anger for our si••nes; Of all his Iudgements mus••er makes; Declar••s how Mercy under••akes The pleading of this Kingdome's Ca••se, To bring G••d's wrath unto apawse; And (for the common ••eader) sutes High things, with lowly Attrioutes. Then, steps into a praisefull straine Of CHARLES his new-beginning Reigne; Empl••res that well-suc••e••d be 〈◊〉〈◊〉, And, for his weale 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••ercy pr••y. He Iusti••e al••o, in••roduces, Complaining on our grosse abuses, Who proveth so, our si••full Nation To merit utter Desolation, That all Gods Plagues had ••s encl••sed, If Mercy had not••nterposed. But, after pleading of the case; With Iustice, Mercy do••h embrace, Who (that our sinnes may pun••sht be) To send the Pestilence agree; Their oth••r: Plagues a while suspending, To prove how that will worke amending.

ONe Storm is past, & though some cl••uds appear, A peacefull ayre becalmes our Hemispheare. That frighting Angell whose devouring blade, Among the People such ahavock made,

Is now departed, and hath tooke from hence His pois'ned Arrowes of the Pestilence. God smoothes his b••ow; and lo, we no•• obtaine The cheerfull brightnesse of hi•• ••ace againe. Oh, boundlesse Mercy! what a change is this▪ And what a joy unto my heart 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is! Run quickly Mus••▪ to cary thy Oblation; And, (twixt that Angell, and the Congregation) Some swee•• perfume to our Preserver bu••ne, Before that bloody Messenger returne. •• Let all affaires keepe of••, and give thee way; For, though my faire••t outward Fortunes lay This houre at spoyle, I would not be advis'd▪ To speake for them, till I had sacrifis'd; Nor will I, to the world, one line allow, Till I have made p••••formance of my Vo••. Most awfull Pow'r, by whom hath formed ••in The Globe of Heav'n and Ear••h, and all ••herein; Thou Alpha, and Omega of my Songs, To whom all glory, and all fame belongs; To thee, thrice holy and Almighty King, Of Iu••g••ment, ••nd of Mercy, now I sing. Thou hast unclos'd my lips, and I will raise My thankfull v••ice in setting out thy pr••ise: Thou hast pr••serv'd thy Children in the flame, And we ascribe the glory to thy Name: Thou saved hast thy people from ••heir crimes; And, here, I publish unto ••uture Times, What I have s••ene. Oh! le•• my Poeme be A sanctified Sacrifice to t••ee. Acce••t this poore Oblation I prefer▪ These drams of Incens••, and these drops of M••r••h, (Which fired in Afflictions Flame, perfume Thy sacred Altars) gratiously assu••e▪

And give my Lines a date to last as long As there are speakers of our En••lish tongue▪ That Children, yet unborne, may reade the Story Which now I sing, to thy pe••petuall glory. And, harke ye People: harken you, I pray, That were preserv'd with me to see this day; And listen you that shall be brought upon This Stage of action, when our Scaene is done: Come harken all; and let no soule refraine To heare; nor let it heare my words in vaine. For, from the ••laughter-house of Deat••, and ••ro•• The habitations of the Dead I come. I am escaped from the greedy Iawes Of Hell, and from the furious Lions pawes; With sorrowes I have lodged; and I have Experience in the horrors of the Grave; In those discomfor••s which, by day, assaile; And those black terrors which, by night, prevaile: Despaire, with her grim Furies, I have seene; Spectator of Gods Iustice I have beene; And, passing through Gods Iudgements, had a sight Of those his Mercies which are infinite: And here, I tell the world what I observed▪ For, to this purpose is my soule preserved. That fatall Yeare, in which the forward ••pring Be••ame an Autumne to our peacefull King; When Iames his Crowne and Scepter did forgoe, That Charles (of whom this Kingdome hopeth so) Might shew, when he did weare hir Diadem, How worthily we plac'd our hopes on him▪ Yea, when within the compasse of one hou••e, Two King both had, and had not, ••gall pow'r▪ Ev'n then, by Thames faire Banks▪ I did reside, Where her swe••t waters washeth ev'ry Tide

The spacious verge of that well peopled Towne, Which with most princely Pallaces doth crowne Her goodly streame, and at her Ports and Keyes, Take in the wealth of Kingdomes and of Seas. Our soueraigne Citie, then I did espie Vpon the couch of soft security; And, how with Peace and Plenty being fed, She toyed like a wanton, on her bed. I saw her drest in all that rich attire, Which doth inflame her Lovers with desire; And how her idle Children, ev'ry day, Sate downe to eate, and drinke, and rose to play. For, she was growne insensible of cares; She had almost forgot••en, sighes, and teares; And all this Iland in her cup of Pleasure, With her had quaf••ed (so much out of measure) Till they gr••w drunke together through excesse, And wilde and giddy in their drunkennesse▪ They h••d almost forgotten him, from whom Their ease and their prosperity d••d come. They spent their houres in laughter and in song, And grew regardlesse of the poore mans wro••g. They alwayes clothed went in soft aray; They fed themselues with dainties, day by day; And, that no outward meane•• of pleasure might Be wanting to accomplish their delight, Those iollities, wherein they did appeare, Were further'd by the season of the yeare. The windes then breathed on them wholsome aire T••e G••oves, th••ir su••••er clothings did repaire; The frui••full F••eld•• wit•• f••esh gr••ene gownes were clad, Which Flor•• curiou••ly embroydered had: The pleasant G••rdens their choyce plaints displaid, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Orch••rd with gay blossomes wore arraid;

The winged Choristers did sweetly sing, And with choice Musicke welcome in the Spring: Their streets with m••••chlesse bravery did shine; Their Parlers many beauties did enshrine▪ Their costly Bowres with rarities were hung, And alwayes filled with a merry throng▪ Of nought but sports & triumphs were their dreams Wealth, health & honor, were their studied theam••s No noisome Plagues, within their Gates were found, Of Grones, their dwellings did but rarely sound▪ Nor was there ••••y storme or danger feared: For, in this Hemisphere so bright appeared New CHARLES his waine, that sunlike he did chase All fogs of discontentment from each place, And, all those clouds of griefe, expelled farre, VVhich rose at settin•• of our IACOB Starre. But, oh how ••••••stlesse are those lying showes Of happinesse, on which most men repose Their greatest confidence? And from our fight How swiftl•• did these pleasures take their flight▪ For, whether he, who from his heav'nly sphere Beholde••h all our though••s and actions here, Did with a searching ey••, examine more Our cours•••• at that present then before: Or, whether hee our carelesnesse had cyde, Or our hypocrisie, or else our pride, O•• our impiety; or wh••th••r he Did in this Iland, or this Kingdome see Our old Idolatr••es come creeping in; Or, whether he some new devised sinne Descride to sprout among us here; yea, whether It were some one of these, or all together, Or what it was, I know not: But it prov'd. A crying s••••ne; and so extreamly moov'd▪

God's gentleness•• that angry he became; His browes were bended, and his eyes did flame. Me thought •• saw it so: and (though I were Afraid within his presence to appeare) My Soule was rais'd above her common station; Where what en••ues I view'd be Contemplation. There is •• spacious Round which bravely reares Her Arch above the top of all the Spheares, Vntill her bright Circumference doth rise Above the r••ach of Mans, or Angels eyes; Conveying through the Bodies christalline Those Rayes which on our lower Globe doe shine, And, all the great and lesser Orbes, doe lye Within the compasse of that Canopy. In this large Roome of State is fixt a Throne, From whence the wise Creator looks upon His workmanship; and thence doth heare and see, All sounds, all pl••••es, and all thi••gs that be. Here sate the King of Gods; and from about His eye-lids, so much terror sparkled out, That ev'ry circle of the Heav'ns it shooke, And all the World did ••remble at his looke; The prospect of the Skie, ••hat earst was cleare, Did with a low••ing countenance appeare: The troubled Ayre, before his presence ••led; T••e Earth into her bosome ••hrunk her head; The Dee••s did ro••re; the Heights did stand amaz'd; The Moone an•• Stars upon each other gaz'd; T••e Sun did stand unmoved in his path; The Hoast of Heav'n w••s frig••t••d at his wrath; And with a voice which made all Creatures quake, To this effect, the great ETERNALL spake. Are we a GOD? and is there pow'r in us Ta s••artle all our whole Creati••n thus?

And yet, are we despis'd, as if these Pow'rs Were either lesser growne, or none of ours? Are we, that with our ••entles•• breath can blow All things to nothing, still abused so? Hath our long suffring hardned so our Foes, That now our Godhead into question growe••? N••y (which is worse) have we compassion showne, Till we are quite neglected of our owne? Is this the Land whom we have lov'd so long, And, in our love, elected from among The Heathen Iles (and at the first was burl'd Into the utmo••t corner of the world) That we might raise the glory of her name, To equall King domes of the greatest fame? Is this that Iland, which our love did place (Within our bosome) in the safe embrace Of great Oceanus? and, garden like Did whar••e about (within her watry Dike) With mighty Rocks, and Cliffes, whose tops were higher, Then any foming Billow da••es aspire? Is this the Kingdome, which our band h••th made The Schoole and Shop, of ev'ry Art, and Trad••? The Cornucopia of all needfull plenties? The Storehouse, and the Closset of our dainties? Our Iewell house, and Palace royall, where The fairest of our Loves maintained are? Is this the Cou••t••y which our bounty served With store of bread, when many Lands were starved? And whom we have pres••rved from the spoiles Of Foes abroad, and from domesticke b••oyles? Are theirs the Cities, which doe weare the Flag Of Peace, while Rochel, Heidleb••rg, and Prague, And ••ll the Christian world engaged are, In some offensive, or defensive warre?

Are their's the Cities, to whose fleets were showne, The pathlesse wayes through many seas unknowne? Whose wealthy Merchants have encreast their trade From ev'ry Port and Creek, that we have made? Whose vessel•• have, by our protection, gone Past both the Tropicks, and through every Zone, And made their petty Villages, become Acquainted with more worlds, then ancient Rome? Is this that people unto whom we gave, More lovely Bodies, then most Nations have? And in whose minds (of our especiall grace) We did the best ••pproved temper place? Is this that People, whom we did restore To humane shape, when as the sca••let-whore Had with her charmed Cup of poisned wine, Tran••form'd them into Asses, A••es and swine? Did we in pers••cution heare their cries? T••ke off, the s••••les of blindnesse from t••eir eyes▪ Win••ke at their follies, when they most offended? Forbeare the punishments ••hat were intende••? From diverse Plagues inflicted them release? Make Europe stand and wonder at their peace? Yea▪ save them f••om the malice of their Foe, When all were like to perish at a blow? And, grace and fav••ur undeserved shew, Wh••n they their owne dest••••ction did purs••e? H••ve we, these threesc••re yeares and upwards b••est Th••ir Kingdomes ••rom those troubles that i••fest Most other States? And (when their soules had been Nigh famisht else) did we provide a Queene, (A maiden Queene; with vertues masculine) To nurse them up in holy Discipline? Did we provide, when she her cou••se had ••un, A King who favor'd, what her hand begun?

And now another, who doth both re••tore Those hopes they lost in him, and promise more? Did we but here, of late, when they had lost Their Prince (that now is King) when they almos•• Despair'd of his returne, for evermore, When he remained on th' Iberian shore? Did we a••cept their vowes? observe their teares? Com••assionate their jealousies and feares? And send their Darling home, when few did know Whereon to build a hope it should be so? Yea, when throughout the world no other pow'r, Could such a work have compassed but our? H••ve we endur'd their frowardnesse so long? Forgiven and forgotten so much wrong? Sought after them, when they ••ad us forsaken? So of••, their counte••feit Repentance taken? So many times appa••an•• made unto them, Wha•• mischiefes their owne ••oolish projects doe them? Yea, did we freely▪ sundry blessings daigne Vnaskt, which other Lands could not obtaine By labors, vowes, and prayers? And have they thus, For all those benefits requited us? Is that their vowed thankfulnesse? Are these The fruits of all their zealous promises? Is this their Piety? Goe, draw together Thy Forces, Vengeance: quickly march them th••••her, With all our Armies; and consume them so, That we ma•• never more displeased grow At their unkindnesse; or be cheated by The fained weepings of Hypocrisie. No sooner had he spoken, but, behold, An Hoast (which he doth alway keepe enrold, To execute his wrath) did straight appeare▪ And in his awfull pres••nce mustred were.

So many Troups, did ••ound about him throng, That, all the wo••ld with Plagues, was ove••hung: For not a Iudgement is there, which hath name, But, thither to attend his Will it came. Sterne visag'd WAR (whose very look doth strike) Came driving on his Charret, Iehu like; Arm'd and beset with holberts, bills, and glaves, Bowes, a••rowes, pikes pole axes, darting staves, Guns, balls of fire, and ev'ry thing that furthers The worke of Desolation, Wounds, and Murthers. His prime c••mpanions, The••t and Rapine were, With all those Vices wh••ch most c••uell are. And at their heeles pursu••d all those Bands Of raging mischiefes, that afflict the La••ds On which he falls. This is that roring Fiend Who Lawes, and Leagues, doth into pieces rend. This is that bloody Tyrant, who o're-turnes The goodl'est Monument••, and spoiles and b••rnes The fairest Dwellings. This, is he that raze•• Renowned Cities, and the strongest places. This is that sacrilegious Theefe, who spares Nor Hospitall nor Temple▪ neither heares The ••uits or cries of ••ged or of young; Nor is regardfull of men we••ke or ••trong. The Suckling from his Mo••hers brest be snatcheth And braines it in her sight: The Wife he c••tcheth Ev'n from her Husbands bed▪ and Virgins ••rom Their Lovers armes, his Strumpets to become. A sertile Soile he makes a Wildernesse, And Wolves, and Beares, and Foxes, to possesse Those places, wherein Arts did once abound; And where have dwelled Nations most ••enown'd▪ However, he's an instrument of God's; And usually, the l••st of all those rod••

Which on a thankless•• Kingdome he do••h lay, Befo••e he finally remove away The mean••s of Grace. Next him, came sneaking in Leane Famine, with ••are bones, and pa••ched skinne; With deep sunke eyes, with talons over-growne; With hungry teeth that would have crackt a s••one; And, close behind her, and at ei••her hand, Such Troups did wait, as are at her command. The crawling Caterpill••rs, wa••••full Flye••, The skipping Locust (that in winter dies) Floods, Frosts, & Mi••••ewes, Blastings, Windes, & Storme••, Drough, rav'nous Fowles, & Vermine, Weeds, & Worme••▪ Sloth, Evill busdandry, and such as those, Which make a Scarcenesse where most plenty grows. This is that hungry Houswife, who first found The searching out for meat f••om under ground; To dig up Roots; to rellish, well, the taft Of stin••ing Garlick, and of bitter Mast. She taught poore people ••ow to fill their mawes, With Bramble-berries, Hedge-picks, Hips, & Hawes▪ Twas she who finding on the sandy shore A ••eape of Oisters (all bedaubed o're) First sought within those dirty shels for meat, Else we had never dar'd of them to eate; Nor thought, nor hoped, that so foule a dish Could bring to table such a dainty fish. Twa•• she that learn'd the Spaniards how to dre••••e Their Frogs; the Frenchman how to cooke a me••se Of ••pu••••y Mushromes; Germans how to make A dinner or a ••upper on a Snake; Italians on the slimy Snaile to feed; Our Irishme•• to live upon a weed That growes in Marshes. And I dare to say, That, but for her, we scarce had heard this day

Of Caveär, and twenty such like bables, VVhich Gluttony now sets upon our Tables. The broyling of old shooes, was her device; And so w••s eating Carrion, Rats, and Mice. Those dainty pallats which could relish no••ght But what was fet farre off, and dearly bought, She so hath d••••••ed, that they could feed On mouldy scraps; and beg them too for need. This Hag, hath Townes and Cities famished. VVith humane flesh, she hungry men hath ••ed: She fo••c't them hath to suck their horses blood: To feed on Pigeons dung (in stead of food) And dearly purchase it. Yea, some constrained To drinke their Vrine, when they drought sustained. Nay, this is that un••quall'd cruell-one, VVho urg'd a Mother, once, to kill her Sonne, And make unnaturally that cursed wombe VVhich gave him being, to be made his tombe. Ev'n this is She, God shield us from her cheere, And g••ant her Plagueship never settle here. The Pestilence, moreover, thither brought Her feared forces, and employment sought. This is that Nimble Fury, wh•• did stay Her three and twenty thousand in one day; And in th' Assirïan Camp, to death did smite, Almost two hundred thousand in one night. Betwixt an evening and a morning-tide, From ev'ry house a soule she did divide Throughout the Land of Aegypt; and could mark Their eldest-borne, although the nigh•• were dar••. In little space, she quite hath overthrown•• Great Cities, and dispeopled many a Towne. She from each other makes acqua••ntance run, Before that any injuries be don••;

And of t••e po••s'ning-Art hath found the height, For, she know••s how to poison by conceit. A Mantle wrought with purple spots she wore, Embost wi••h many a Blaine, and many a Sore. She had a raving Voice, a frantick Lock, A noys••me Breath, and in her hand she shooke A venom'd speare, which, where it toucheth, fills The veines with poison, and distracts, and kills. Within her Regiment are all Diseases, And ev'ry Torment which the Body seizes; Go••ts, Collicks, Lethargies, and Apo••lexies, Obstruction, which the spleene, or stomack v••xe••; The ••ox of ev'ry kinde, ••heumes, aches, Stiches, Quick-killing Pleurisies, and Scabs, and Itches; The Burning-Fever, who deserveth well The place of her Lieutenant-Colonell; Consumptions, Gangreeves, Coughes, and Squina••cie••, The Falling-evill, Cramps, and Lunacies, (VVith other such Diseases, many moe Then I am able by their names to know) Besides those maladies the Sea procures, As, sloath-bred Scurvies, and mad Calentures; And all those other Griefes, and Sorrowes, which Those Sicknesses doe bring on poore and rich. But, of that Hoast which here is mentioned, The maine Battalion was both rang'd and led By that slye Prince, (ev'n that malicious one) VVhich in the ayrie Region hath his throne. To fu••ther his designes, he brought in Lyes, Extortion, Bribing, Fraud, and Perjuries; VVith many thousand stratagems beside, VVhose dangerous effects are often tride. All ravenous Beasts, (or rather those of whom Such Beasts are Emblemes) in his troups did come:

To worke his mis••hiefes (with amaze and wonder) He furnisht was ••ith Lightnings, Winds, & Thunder; Prodigious apparitions, and those sights Wherewith mens troubled fancies he affrights; And, thither did (for soule-assaults) ••epaire His two black Twins, Pr••sumpt••on and Despaire. Attended by those manifold Temptations, Wherewith he maketh sure the reprobations Of all obdurate finners; whom in wrath Our God, deservedly rej••cted hath. These greedy Spoilers, hungry for a prey, Stood ready, Gods commandings to obey: Who having view'd their well prepared Bands, (And pointing out his finger to these Lands) Said; Goe ye Plagues. And (had he not beene staid) Lay waste, that sinfull Realme, he would have said. And yet, it seems, these dreadfull shews were ra••her The threatnings of a wise and loving Father, (To bring his Children to a filiall feare) Then such a wrath as doth in Fo••s appeare. For, ne••ther Chance, nor Time, no•• New-desert, Was interposed on the guilty part: But, God's owne good••ess•• brought the means about That stopt our Doome, before his words were out. And thus it was. The great Almighty One Hath evermore attending on his th••one Two royall Daughters. One of t••em is she That's called Iustice; and her Emblemes be An equall Ballance, and a flaming Blade, To weigh the Good their due, and fright the ••ad: And, both with hand and eye she threatens those, That her uprightnesse, any way oppose. The other for her Hierogliphick weares A Box of Balme, and in her bosome beare••

A sucking Lambe, (which meek and ha••mles creature Doth somewhat intimate her gen••le nat••re) Betwixt her beauteous brests, a true Co••passion Erecteth her perpetuall habitation; And, su••h a lovely sweet aspect hath she, Thats if Wrath saw her, Wrath in love would be. We call her Clemency. She o••ten makes Our peace with God, and his displeasure slakes. This Princesse, ma••king well with what inte••t Her Lord would those great Armies forth have sent; And finding, by that wrath she saw in him, What Desol••tions would have followed them; With teares of pitie, to his throne she ran, To kisse and to embrace hi•• feet began; And (whilst his halfe-spoke sen••ence God delaid) These words, the faire-well spoken Virgin said. Deare, ••h deare Fa••her! wherefore frownst thou s••? What fearfull thing art thou about to doe? Hold (I beseech thee hold) thou backe the doome, Which from thy lips is now about to come; And bear (Dread Sov'raign) heare thy Handmaid speak A word or two, before thy Iustice wreake Deserv••d vengeance on that wretched place Which hath so fallen from thy wonted Grace. Loo•• Father▪ looke upon me: it is I, Thy best-beloved Daughter CLEMENCIE▪ Tis I whom thou forget••est. I am she Who in thy bosome lay, belov'd of thee Before all worlds; and had a sov'raignty O're all thy creatures from eternity. Tis I, at whose intreaty thou wert moved To send thine onely Sonne, thy best-beloved (For Mans redemption) to assume the nature, The forme, and frailties, of a finfull creature.

Tis I that have presu••ed to become A suitor now, to stay thy heavy d••ome: And, why should I be doubtfull to make triall Of thy regard, or fearfull of deniall? In Iudgement, thou hast promised, oh Lord! To thi••ke on Me (ev'n in thy w••itten word) Yea, Heav'n and E••rth have often heard thee say, Thou nev••r woul••••t, for ever, cast away Thy Loving-Mercy; and, I k••ow, thou mus•• And wilt, be found in all thy sayings, just. But, then, to what intents, doe These appeare? Why are thy dreadfull Armies mustred he••e? VVhat fav••ur is it possible to show, VVhere such a Rablement as this, shall goe? VVhy may not Pit••e shew her selfe as well VVithin the bottome of the low••st Hell As where these revell? Doubtlesse, these rude Bands VVill spare nor Lawes nor Temples in those Lands To which thou send them shalt; but, from each plac•• Root out (with ev'••y present meanes of Grace) All outward helps of present knowing thee, If equall to their hate, their pow'r may be. And, what if then their breathlesse fury shall Leave some few trifles which are temporall? For what will they reserve them, but to breed A race of Infidels? a wicked seed, For them to prey upon? a Brood, to whom The Blessings left Damnation shall become. Thou hast upon that Iland (I confesse) Bestowed Favours, great and numberlesse. I know that they may justly blush for shame, To heare how grossely they abuse thy Name; Yea, th••y now are, and have a long time bin, Growne out of measure sinfull in their sin.

Yet, if thou look upon them, thou shalt see Some there, who bend not unto ••aal their knee; Some left, who for thine honour sirme ha••e ••••ood; Some, who have garments washed in the blood Of thy unspotted Lamb: and some, which beare Those marks, that Seales of thy free pardon are. Oh! let not them enclos'd w••th Sinners be, Nor swallowed up with such who know not thee. But, for the sakes o•• those forb••are thou, rath••r, The Tares, untill thy Harvest thou shalt gather: So, by those Follies which in them abound, Thy Goodnesse shall the farther be renown'd. If, therefore, thou this Kingdome shouldst not spare, Because, repleat with sin her dwellings are, What Nation is there, or what Habitation, That merits not perpetuall reprobation? Where wilt t••ou finde a People, under Heav'n, Which hath not ev'ry way occasion giv'n Of thy displeasure? Or, what Man is there That in thy sight could justifi••d appeare, If thou shouldst mark him with a frowning eye? And, what a pretty Nothing, then were I, If no man lived, that amisse had done, For me, to exercise my pity on? Nay, if Transg••ession had but finite been, How should thy Mercies infinite. be seene? Though on this Field (which thou hast plow'd & sown With purest Wheat) some wicked-ones have throwne Their Tares, by night; yet, somewhat it hath borne For which it may be ••ald thy Field of Corne. Thy Fence is yet about it; and there stands A Fort, and Wine-presse, builded by thy hands. There are thy Sacraments, thy Word divine, There, is the Schoole of Christian Discipline.

There, may the me••nes of Grace be kept in s••ore For those who will hereaf••er prise them more. Thy poo••e ••fflicted Servants▪ thither may From forraine persecutions flye away; ••••d sheltred in a Storme, there s••f••ly tary, As in a Fortresse, or a ••anctuary. But, whither shall they flye when that lyes wast? Where shall thy sacred Oracles be plac'd? Or whither with her Sonne that Woman goe, Who by the Dragon is pursued so? I know that if thou please thou canst provid•• A place for her, securely to abide, Amid the Westerne wilderness•• (and where Scarce glimmerings of thy favo••rs yet appeare) By moulding out the Heathen Salvages To be a people far surpassing these. This, Lord, thou couldst effect▪ and make of them Thy people, whom these most of all contemne. And, since this Nation, in their weal••••y peace, Have sent out Colonies, but to en••rease Their private gaine: since they faire show••s have made Of publishing thy Gospell▪ when the Trade For cursed lucre (as the Times reveale) Was chiefest founder of their fained zeale: Since they in that, and other things, pretend Religion, when tis farthest from their end: Thou didst but right, if thou shouldst force their se••d To set••le on some barbarous Coast for reed; And, there, thy Truth, to those, with sorrow preach, Whom they neglected, in their weale, to teach. But, since it were no more for thee to doe, This Land to save, and call ano••her too, Then one such worke so compasse; why I pray Shouldst thou remove their Candlestick away?

Why maist not Thou, who all compassion art, Thy people, rather, by thy pow'r convert, Then quite destroy them? wherefore shouldst thou no•• Their errors forth ••f thy remembrance blot, As heretofore? And alwayes praised be For that abundant Love, which is in thee? Why should their Foes and thine, with jeering say, Now, ••ow we see our long-expected Day▪ Why w••lt thou give them cause to domineere? Ev'n those, who love not thee, to laugh, and fleere A•• their destruction, who, thy Truth profest, (If not u••fainedly) in shew, at least. Though t••ey have ill-deserv'd, why should the shame Of their off••nces fall upon thy Name? And, thy Blasphemers (by thy Peoples fall) Assume the ••oldnesse on themselves, to call Thy Gospel into question? Or, thereby, T••ei•• shamelesse falshoods seeke to justifie? Why should the wicked, take occasion from Th••se ••lagues, to say▪ Where is their God become? Where is their pow'r, on which they did r••pose? Where is their ••aith? where are the hopes of those Their s••rvices? Oh! for thine owne deare sake, (However they des••rve) compassion take. Deare SIR, have pittie: and, as often, thou Hast granted my request, vouchsafe it now. Yea, to those many thousands, heretofore, From thy abundance, adde one favour more▪ By these, and other Motives (breathed from A zealous brest) the heav'ns are overcome. His love of us, doth so our Sampson wound, That, he hath taught us, how he may be bound. Yea, Holy-writ informeth us, that He, By such like Charmings, will compelled be.

And, now they so prevailed, that the rage Of our great God, they partly did aswage. Which, MER••Y by his looke, had quickly heeded; And taking that a••vantage, thus proceeded, Oh! what a co••fort is it, to behold▪ Thine Eye speak Mercy, and thy Brow unfold A reconcilement! Now, I seeme to see Thy gracious face, to shine againe on me. I finde it is the jealousie of Love, (And no effect of hatred) which doth mov•• Thy wronged Patience: and, that when thou hides•• Thy presence in an angry Cloud, or chidest, It 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not alwayes in consuming wrath, (••o punish, as the faul•• deserved hath) But, that thy frighting Iudgements might prevaile, To worke a••endment, when thy Love doth faile. That People whom so much thou didst aff••ct, How canst tho•• have a purpose to reject, So long as in their Co••fines doth remaine That Number, which thy Vengeance doth restraine? Who can beleeve ••hat thou defra••a'st such cost, To purchase what, thou meanest shall be lost? Or, labour to erect them, didst bestow, For nothing else, but them away ••o throw? VVhy should I thinke, thy endlesse▪ goodnesse, had So little care, to save what thou hast made, That Sathans Hate, shou••d for their Desolation, Out-worke thy Love, in working their Salvation? Or, that the boundlesnesse of M••ns transgression, Could over-match thine Infini••e Compassion? It m••y not be beleeved; Or, that this Pre••ended warre, for finall ruine is. Since, if in summoning thy Iudgement••, now, Thou hadst propos'd their u••ter overthrow,

Thou wouldst not have discovered an assection, ••y still co••tinu••ng them, in thy prote••tion, As yet thou dost: Nor ••a••ly s••nd unto them Love-tokens, (as if kindnesse, thou wouldst doe them VVhich they should never know of) nor, make show Os having ••eft them, when tis nothing so Thus hav•• I seene, on ea••th, a Lover use His Best-beloved, when she did abuse His true affection. Though he seeme unkind••, That her unkindnesse she may thereby find••; Yea, though he faine some outward disrespec••••, Yet, in his hea••t, so truly he affects, That, whats••ever good, he can, he does her: By meanes unscene, to her lost vertues, wo••es her: For h••r well-doing, takes a thousand cares: Of her ill-doing, hath ten thousand seares: Wakes not, but thoughts of her, in waking, keepes; Sleeps not, but dreameth of her, when he sleep••s. Not ceasing to end••avour, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he see Some sparkes of lost affection kindled be. And, as her over sights she doth deplore, So, he his love discovers, more and more; Vntill the fire, that was a long tim•• bid, Breake forth, and flame as high as e're it did. I never knew thee, yet, to rui••ate A wicked Kingdom••, or a sinfull State, Professing thee; but, thou didst first withdr••w From those Offenders, thy abused Law. And, as in Christian Realmes, the temp'rall Sword Cuts off no Preacher of thy blessed Word, (For any Crime committed) untill he Of Holy-orders, first degraded be: So, thou (most frequently) dost first remove The Scales of Grace, and Pledges of thy Love,

B••fore thou give up Lands into their pow'r, W••o them, and theirs, shall finally devoure: For, till thy holy things, be fetched from Th••ir Coast, such Desolation shall not come. Those, they retaine. And, if conclude I shall From hope of any blessing temporall, That yet thou lovest them (and dost intend Their Land, with future favours, to befriend) That King which thou hast now on them bestowne, Some token of thy Clemency hath showne. For, if man may by good externall signes, Conjecture whereunto his heart enclines: If Thou, to whom all secrets open be, See'st that in him, which mortalls hope they see; And hast not mockt that People, sor their sinne, With shewes of things that have not reall bin: (As Lord forbid) No Kingdome hath a Prince, Whose infant yeares, gave ••etter ••vidence, ••hat with an earthly Crowne he should inherit, A plentious portion of thy sacred Spirit. None liveth now, on whom the gen'rall eye Did so much gaze, and so few scapes espy. F••w private men were in their youth so fr••e From all those vanities, which frequent be In these rude times (he having meanes to doe His pleasure, and, perhaps, s••rong temptings too) Who seemed of those knowledges, more faine That might informe him, to obey, and raigne? How well those crossings was he thought to beare, Which in the times of his subjection were? And, with how brave a temper to neglect, To be aveng'd of wrongs and disrespect? ••hat Sonne, did in his Fathers life time, show •• ••iliall feare and love, united so?

Or, which of all thy Vice-royes d••dst thou see App••are more zealously devout then ••e? Thou knowest which: But, if they doe not erre Who, things by probability, inferre, It might be said, The world had not his peere In all those vertues, that are mention'd here. And should conf••ssed be, ev'n of his soe, They had not flattred who affi••med so: Since, what was of his worth, at home conceiv••d, All Europe for a verity received. And lo••; now by thy Grace he sitteth on The seat of Rule, and in his Fathers Th••one; VVho giveth signes of truer love to thee? Or of more conscience, of his Charge, the•• He? VVhat Monarke, in appearance, better preache••h By good Examples, what thy Precepts teacheth? Or which of all his reverend Prelacy, In shewes of true religious constancie, Outgoes or equals him? Oh! if so cleare His vertues prove▪ as yet they doe appeare, How glorious will they grow? And, what a light VVill he become, when he ascends the height Of his great Orbe? And, oh! what pitty 'twere His minde should ever fall below that spheare Of Grace which he hath climb'd! or, that thy Love Should wanting be, to keepe him still above! How grievous would it be, that his beginning (So hopefull, and such l••ve and honour winning) Should faile that expectation, which it hath? And, make thee shut thy favour up, in wrath? Let not oh God! let not the sins of others Nor any fog (which Vertues glorie smothers) Ascending from his frailties, make obscure His rising honor, which yet seemeth pure.

If might, in him, be w••nting of that worth Which to the publike view is blaz••d sorth, Forgive, and perfect him, that he may grow, To be in deed, what he appeares in show. Yea, Lord (as farre as humane frailty can Permit the sa••e) make him, ev'n such a Man As now that Kingdome needs; and spare that Nation For him, which else deserveth Desolation. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 If he be what he seemeth; Thou (I know) ••ilt save his Land from utter overthrow. Thou, in the life-time of a p••ous King, Wert never yet, accustomed to bring Destruction: For, thou shewedst him compassion, Who did but once, well act humiliation; ••v'n wicked Ahab; and within his Times Thou wouldst not pun••sh (no no••) his owne Crimes. Oh! be as mercifull, as thou hast bin; And let this King▪ thy favours triumph in. ••et that exceeding Grace already shew'd him, (Ev'n that wherewith thy Spirit hath indu'd him) Be Pledges of some greater Gifts, with whic•• Thou shalt in future times, his heart enrich. His br••st inflame thou, with a sacred fire; Teach him to aske, and give him his desire: Grant him thy Wìsdome, and thy Righteousnesse, The wrongs of all his People to redresse. Let him the Widow, and the Orphane save, Releeving all, that need of succour have: And, let his Mountaines, and each lesser Hill, Hi•• humbler Dales, with peace, and plenty fill. As he was honor'd in his Preservation, So, let him glory still in thy Salvation. As he persisteth to relie on thee; So, let him sure of thy protection be.

Be thou his onely joy. Be thou I pray His Triumph on his Coronation-••ay. Crowne thou his head with purified gold: Make st••ong his Scepter, ••nd his Throne uphold, To be renowned by thy Grace divine, As long as either Sunne, or Moone shall shine. Since thou to rule thine Isr••el dost appoint him, Let thy most holy Spirit, Lord, anoint him. Make thou a league with him, as thou hast done With David, and adopt him for thy Sonn••. To thee, Thou art my Father, let him say, My God, my Rocke of safety, and my stay. Throghout those Lāds, where thou to raign shalt place him With Title, of thy First-begotten, grace him. And, let his Kingdomes harbor none of them, Who shall deny him to be their Supreme. So guard, and so enclose him with thine Arme, The Man of Sinne; may nev••r doe him harme. To him, his Adversaries all subject, And, prosper none that him shall disaffect. Lead thou his Armies, when his Warre beginnes; Make thou his Peace, when he the Battle winnes. Let still thy Truth, and Love, with him abide; Let in thy Name, his name be glorifi'd. Doe thou the Seas into his pow'r d••liver; Make thou his right hand reach beyond the River; And, plant so strongly on the Banks of Rhyne, Those fruitfull Branches of his Fathers Vine, (VVhom late the salvage Bore (with tripled pow'r) Hath rooted up, with purpose to devoure) That they may spread their Clusters, far and nigh; And fill, and top, the Germane Empery. Yea, minde thou, Lord, the scorn••s and de••amations, Which they have borne among their neighboring nations▪

And, please to comfort them, and make them glad, According to the sorrowes they have had. To them, so sanctifie their great affliction, That it may bring their vertues to perfection; And, fit them for some place, in which they shall Helpe reare againe, decaying Sions wall. Oh! keep for them, a favour still in store; Preserve them in thy League, for evermore; Blesse thou that Race, which is or shall be given: As lasting make it, as the day••s of heav'n: And, if thy Lawes or Iudgements, they forsake, Or, if thy League, or Covenant, they breake, With Rods, let them, in mercie, be corrected; But, never fall, for aye, to be rejected. The like for this new Monark, I emplore: In him, encrease thy Graces, more, and more. Make ••im a Blessing, for all Christendome: Make him, a Patterne, for all Times to come: Make him, in ev'ry happy course persever; And, let him live, for ever and for ever. His Royall Robe, he hath but new put on; And, I my prayers have but new begun. Oh let me to thy Majestie prefer These few Petitions, in particular: And place them where, they may both day and night, Stand, evermore, unfolded in thy sight. First, teach him, to consider, how and why, T••ou hast enthron'd him on a seat so high▪ And, so to think on his great charge; and trust, As one who knowes he come to reckning m••st: Fo••, honors if by thee they be not blest, Make wisest men as brutish as a beast. Teach him to minde, how great the favour wa••, When thou, of thy meere motion, and thy Grace,

Didst from so many millions chuse out him, To weare this Kingdomes fourefold Diadem: And, make thy Servants, favour'd in his sight▪ As thou hast made of him, thy Favorite. Teach him, the fittest meanes to take away (And let none murmure at his just delay) Those Groves, and those Hill-Altars in the Land, Which suffred are unt••ll his dayes to stand: And, give him wisedome, wisely to foresee, That Wheat from Chaffe, may well distinguisht be. For, some will, else, bring Truth into suspition, Condemne good Discipline, for Superstition; And with faire shewes, of Piety, beguile, That underhand they may encroach, the while, On Gods Inheritance; and from her teare Those outward Ornam••nts his Bride doth weare. Oh! let him purge from Church and Commonweale, Those inflammations of corrupted zeale, And indigested humors, which doe spread Distempers through the Stomacke; paine the Head: And, by prepost'rous courses, raise a storme To rend that Body, which it would reforme. Let him, his Reformations, first begin, Like David, with himselfe: and search within The closset of his heart, what he can finde, Which may annoy him there, in any kinde: And let him thence expell it, though it were, As deare unto him as his eye-bals are. His Houshold, let him next enquire into, And, well informed be, what there they doe▪ That, so he may expect thy Comming-day With heart upright, and in a perfect way. Let him in no prophanenesse take del••ght, Nor brook a wicked person in his sight.

••e•• no Blasphemer in his presence tarry; Nor they that falshoods, to and fro, doe carry. L••t him acquai••tance with all such refrain••; The lowly cherish; h••ughty mindes restrain••; Enquire for them that vertuou••ly excell, And take in honest men with him to dwell. No such Projector, who doth put in vse Great Injuries, to mend a small abuse; Nor such, who in reforming, doe no other B••t rob one Knave, to helpe enrich another; And prove themselves, when tryall doth befall, To be, perhaps, the veriest K••aves of all. Let him be curst with no base Officer, Who doth before true Honor, Gold prefer; And, ••o enrich his Ches••, a little more, Would in his Reputation, make him poore: Or with some needlesse Treasure, to supply him, Lose him more Lo••e, then all his Lands can buy him. Let no man of his daily bread partake, VVho at thy holy Boord shall him forsake; And, lay thou open their dissimul••tion, Who shall approve of Na••mans Tol••ration. K••epe from his Counsells, though their wit excels, All Hypocrites, and all Achitophels. Yea, let thy Wisdome, hi•• discretion blesse, From Rehoboams childish wilfulnesse, VVho lef•• his ancient Princes good directions, ••o follow his young Nobles raw projections. Or, if ••e like their Counsels, and receive them, Harme let th••m bring to none but those wh•• gave them: And, if to him some dammage they procure, Let present losse his future peace procure. Make him perceive that humane Policy 〈◊〉〈◊〉 H••nd m••id to rel••••ious H••ne••ty;

And that, the man who doth foundation•• lay On Iustice, (and proves co••stant in his w••y) Shall mad the Politician; and ••ake vaine His underminings without fear••, or paine. For, as a Fowler seldome doth su••prise That wary Bird, which can her s••lfe suffise, With what thy ••and provideth in the fi••lds, Or, what the ••orrest, for h••r die•• yeelds: So, sl••ights of Policy (although, perchance, They seeme, a while, to worke some hinderance) Can disadvantage no••e, but those, who leaving The pathes of Vertue, and themselves deceiving With some false hopes (which were before them laid) Made them the meanes, whereby they were betrayd. Make him as precious in his Peoples eyes As their owne blood. Far higher let them prise His honor then their fortunes; and let him, Be ev'ry way as tender over them. Yea, let the mutuall love, betwixt them bred, Vnite them as the Body, and the Head. ••or, such a blessed Vnion doth procure More saf••ty then foure Kingdomes can assure; Commands mens hearts, their fortunes, and their lives, Is chiefe of all his chiefe Pre••ogatives; And shall more comfort, and more profit doe him, Then all those frui••lesse claimes can bring unto him; Whereto, perchance, they urge him will, who shall Pretend his honor, when they seeke his fall. Such men in Princes Courts were ••ver found, But, thou their l••wd Projections wilt confound; And, when their vaine devise b••ing on them, Confusion, w••o thi•• r••all Truth contemne; When such men's fool••sh counsels, shall have brought Th••se mischiefs o•• them which thei•• hāds have wrou••••••

(Yea, when opprest, with feares and discontent, They shall, too late, perhaps, their course repent) Then, they in heart shall forced be to say, That, what they sleighted was the safest way. Blesse him from those, who censure his Intents, His Counsel••, or his Actions by events: An•• saw••ily, his Iudges dare appeare On ev'ry sla••d'rous Rumor they shall hea••e. Preserve him from those Minions (who do raise Their credits by another mans dispraise) That Machivillian crew, who to endeare Their base immerits, fill the royall eare With tales, and false reports, concerning those Who their misdoings legally oppose: They, who gr••wne great with rapine, and made strong, With w••alth extorted to the publike wrong, Still add (to cover what misdone hath bin) New w••ongs; and make new partners in their sin, In hope their number ••eep them shall unshent: And, silence and condemne the Innocent. Make him ab••or such Apes, and such Baboones, As Parasi••es, and impudent Buffoone••: Such, as would make their Princes glad with lies: Such, as with filthy tales of ribaldries, With ••curvile songs, with unbese••ming j••sts, And stuffe which ev'ry civill ••are detests, Abuse Kings Chambers. Let all those who buy Their Offices (which is lay Simony) H••ve alwayes his dislike; and not recover His good esteeme againe, till they give ove•• Their evill gotten places. Let all such Who for the seats o•• Iudgement, do as much, A••peare to him as men who are detected Of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 crimes; and ever be suspected

Of some Corruption: for, it may be thought, That mony must be made of wh••t is bought. Let him the causes of Abuse discerne; Let him the cure of ev'ry mischi••f•• learne; Let him of what he knowe••h, practice make; Let all his People, his example take. Give them repentance for their passed crimes; As••ist them by thy grace, in future times; And send thy Holy-Spi••i•• through their Lands, To keep them in the way of thy Commands. So, thou in their Devotions wilt ••e p••eas'd, So, all thine anger will be quite appeas'd; So, King and People, praise thee shall▪ together; And, then, thou need'st not send these Armies thithe••. Thus MERCIE spake; & more she would have said (For, she could everlastingly have praid) To this effect. But▪ IVSTICE having spy'd Gods eye to ma••ke, how she seem'd satisfi'd; (And looki••g somewh••t sternly, to betoken That MERCIE in her injury had spoken) Thus interrupted her. Faire Sister, stay; And, doe not think to beare my right away With smoo••hed words. Thou art an Advocate Well knowne to be the most importunate That ever pleaded: and, thou hast a trick With these moist eyes, beyond all Rhetorick. So that, unlesse I make it still appeare, What grosse offenders all thy Clients are, A Bill of mine (how just soe're the case) Would seldome in this great Star-chamber passe. No place, no pe••sons, are so dissolute, But if they whine to thee, thou makest sute On their behalfes. Thou wert Soliciter For King Manasses (that Idolater

And gotst his pardon. Thou hast Proctresse bin For Ieroboam (who m••de Isr'el sin) That hand recuring which he did extend, The Messenger of God, to apprehend. Thou art f••r any who in thee beleeves, Though Tray••ers, Strumpets, Murtherers, or Th••eves. Thou prayd'st for N••neveh; yea thou hast prayd For Sodome; and my hand had sure beene staid When I consum'd them, if there had beene, then, In five great Cities, b••t tenne righteou•• men. I never yet could get a verdict past On any Sinner, but thou crost it hast, Vpon the teast repentance. And if ••ver To serve an Execution I endeavor, Thou; still, one meanes or other dost procure, To mi••igate the strictest forfeiture. Thee, for delaying Iudgements, I prefer Ev'n farre before the Courts at Westminster. And, if I longer these thy deal••ngs beare, Thou here wilt use me, as they use me there. For, lat••ly I survey••d it; and saw Their Chauncery had halfe devour'd their Law. Sweet Lady call to minde, there is a due Pertaining equally to me and you. As nothing without MERCIE should be done; So IVSTICE shoul•• not be encroa••ht upon. I claime a Daughters part, and I d••sire To keepe min•• owne inh••ritance in••ire. I, for your sake, huge Armies, often save, When they had, else, beene rotting in the grave. I suffer you to wipe more sinnes away Then twice tenne thousand millions in a day. There's none whom I doe punish for his crimes, B••t I doescarre him first, a thousand times

(At your entreaty) when, if I had pleased, I might so many times his life have seized. Yea, I shoul•• none have injur'd▪ though I had Of all the World, long since, a Bone-fire made. For, what effects hath your Compassi••n wrought? What Offring••, to Gods Altars, now are brought By my long sparing them? Nay, have they not H••m, and his aw••ull pow'r, the more forgot? What did I say? forgot him? If they had Vs'd him and his Indulgence but so bad, Thou might'st have spoken for them; and I could Have left thy supplications uncontroll'd. But, they have aggravated their neglect, With such base villanies, such disrespect, And such contempt of Him, of Thee, and Mee, That if we beare it, we shall scorned be. They so presumptuous are, that well I know, Were but a petty-Iustice used so, He would not brooke it: But, so rough appeare, That all the sin-professing houses neare, Of Reformation would be much in doubt; And feare they should not buy his Ange•• out, Though they presented him with coyne and wares; And b••ib'd his Clarke, with whom, tis thought he s••ares. I will not the••efore palliate their despight; I will not be debarred of my right; I will not make my selfe a publike scorne; Nor will I longer beare what I have borne. Here with (as if she thought it were in vaine, For Vengeance, unto MERCIE to complaine) She rais'd her eyes; she fixed them upon The ••hrone of heav'n, and Him that sate thereon: Then bowed thrice, and, then to her complaint▪ She ••hus proceeded lik•• an An••ry Saint

Great IVDGE of all the world just, wise, and holy; Who sin abhorrest, and correctest folly: Who drivest all uncleannesse from thy sight, And feared art, ev'n of the most upright: Consider well my Cause, and let thou not Thy IVSTICE in thy MERCIE be forgot▪ As well as this my sister, so am I Vnited unto thee essentially Before all Time; and there is cause for me To boast thy favour, full as much as she. For, to maintaine thy Iustice (and approve Th••t sacred, never violated Love Thou bearest me) great Monarkies have drunk Thy cup of wrath; and into ruine sunk. For their contempt of me, thou hast rejected The Nation, of all Nations, most affected. Once, thou the Globe of Earth didst wholly drowne; From Heav'n thou threw••st the sinfull Angels down••: And (which is more) thy Best beloved dy'd, That my displeasure might be satisfi'd. But, l••t no former favour me availe, If now of Reason on my side I faile. I n••ver did a Vengeance, yet pursue Before it was requir'd by double due. I never plagued any in despight, Nor in the death of sinners took delight. Why therefore thus is my proceeding staid? And thy just wrath so suddenly alaid? Hath Mercy their offences vailed so, That thou beholdest not what faults th••y do? And wilt thou still continue thy compassion To this unthankfull and forgetfull Nation? What are they, but a most corrupted breed? A wicked, a perverse, ingratefull seed?

A peopl•• for instruction so untoward, So stubborne in their courses, and so ••roward, That, neither t••reats, nor plagues, nor lo••e can mend ••hem, And therefore Desolation must attend them. Me they have injured, past all ••ompare; They flout me to my face; they me out dare Ev'n on my Iudgement-se••ts; they truth deny▪ Although they knew, their hear••rs know they lye. They use my Titles, and my Offices, But as a meanes to rob, or to oppresse The poorer sort: and he that wrong sustaines, Is sure of more, if he for right complaines. Search thou their Streets, their Markets, & their Courts; Note where the greatest multitude resorts, And if thou finde a man among them, th••re, That hath of Truth or Iudgement any care, Him let thine Angell save. But, thou shalt see That nothing else from heele to head they be, But swellings, wounds, and sores: that they are wholly O'regrowne with leprosies of noysome folly; And that, among them, there abideth none, Whose path is right and p••rfect, no not one. Their studies, are in che••ting trickes, and shifts. Their practice, is to compass bribes, and gifts. Their silver is but dross. Their wine impure. Th••ir finest gold, will not the touch endure. The poore oppresse the poore. The Childe ass••mes An El••ers place. The basest Groome presu••es B••fore t••e Noble. Wom••n t••ke on them Mens habits and subjection doe contemne. Men grow ••ffemin••te. Age dotes, Youth raves, The begger's proud. The rich man, basely craves. The neighbour of his neighbour goes in danger; The brother to the brother growes a stranger.

There is no kin, but Cousnage. Few professe Affection, Amity, or Friendlinesse, But to dec••ive. If men each ••ther greet, With shewes of wondrous friendship, when they meet, They doe but practise kin••ly to betray; And jeere, and scoffe, when th••y depart away: Th••y labour, and they study, ly••s to make: To grow more wicked, serious paines they take: Wolves are as mercifull: Their Dogs as holy: Vertue, th••y count a Foole: Religion, folly. Their Lawes are but their nets, and ginn••s, to take Those whom they hate, and seeke their prey to make: The patronage of ••ruth, no••e standeth for: The way of Piety, they doe abhor: They meet u••seene, the harmlesse to ••eceive▪ They h••tch the Cocatrice: They s••ely weave The Spiders web; and, when in bed they a••e, They lye and study pl••ts of mischiefe ••here. And, why thus fares it? b••t, because they see That (how unjust soe're their Courses b••) They prosper in t••eir wicked nesse, and ••hrive, Whilst th••y who honor thee a••fl••••ted live. If any man reprove their damned way, They persecute, and slander him, and say; Come, let us smite him with our tongue, that he, And his reproofes, may unregarded be. They desp'rately resolve a wicked Course; And, ev'ry day proceed from bad▪ to wo••se. Themselves they sooth in evill: and professe In publike manner, Trades of wickednesse▪ They impudently boast of their Transgressions, And madly, glory in their great Opp••essions. Yea, some so farre have ••ver-gone the Devils In shamelesnesse, that they make bragge of evils

Which they committed not (as if th••y fear'd That else they had not lewd enough a••p••ar'd) Whereas, they from themselves would strive to flie, If they could s••e their owne defo••mity. For, what remaineth to be termed ill Which they are guil••lesse of, in act, or will? Th••y, gall unto the hungry prof••r'd have: They, vine••er unto the thirsty gave: With brutish fiercenesse they themselves aray: Vnsatisfied in their lust are they, And neither earth nor heav'n escapes the w••ongs Of their injurious and blasph••mous tongue••. With ev'ry member, they dishonor Thee, No part of them from wick••dnesse is free: Their Eyes, are wandring after vanitie, And l••ere about, advantages to spye. Their Eares are deafe to goodnesse; but most pro••e To heare a sl••nder told of any one: And h••ve an itching after ev'ry thin••, Which, newes of sensualitie, may bring. Their braz••n Foreheads, without shame appeare: Their Teeth are sharper then a sword o•• speare: Their Lips, as keenly cut, as Razors doe; And, under them, is Add••rs poison too. Their Mouthes with bitter cu••sings, over-flow: Their oily Tongues, contention dail•• sow: In Heart, they Falshood before Truth, preferre: Their Throats, are like a gaping Sepulcher: Foule belchings from their Stomacks doe arise, Ev'n filthie speeches; and ranke bl••sphemies. Their Hands (their right hands) lawlesse gifts receive: With Bribes, their Fingers, they desiled have. Their Feet, are swift in executing ill, And, run the blood of innocents to spill.

They are corrupt in ev'ry Facultie; In Vnde••standing, Will, and Memorie; Yea, th••ir most specious works of pietie Are little else, but meere hypocrisie. All stain'd with Murthers, Thef••s, Adulteries, And other unrepented Villanies Thy House they enter, as if they were cle••re, Or, thither came, but to out brave thee there. There, they display their pride: there, they contemne Thy Messengers▪ or, sit and censure them. There, they disturbe thy Children in their pray'rs, By tatling of impertinent affaires. The many roving lookes, they throw about, Doe prove them, far more wanton, than devout. And, say, they bring devotion for a fit: Alas! what pleasure canst thou take in it? Or, what doe they but mocke thee, when they pray, Vnlesse their wickednesse they cast away? What profits it, to kneele sometime an houre? To fast a day? to look demure, or soure? To raise the hands aloft? the brest to strike? To shake the head, or hang it Bulrush like? And, all that while to have no thought of thee; But on base projects, musing, there, to be? I many such enormities might name, Wherein this People have beene much to blame. And, shall they still, thy gentlenesse contemne? Wilt thou forbeare, for this, to punish them? Shall such devotion be regarded more, Then if they brought the ••yring of a whore? Or sacrific'd a Dog? Nay, though they had Of farre fet Calamus an Offring made, Or, incense brought from Sheba; doe they think The smoke of that, shall take away the stink

Of their corruption? shall this wicked Throng▪ (Who partners are in ev'rie kind of wrong, And Reformation hate) still spared be Because they can a little prate of thee? Make zealous outward shewes; and preach thy word, Whose pow'r they have deny'd? (if not abhorr'd:) Let me consume them rather. For, Compassion So often hath prevailed for this Nation, That, all my threatnings are no whit regarded, Thy Pittìe is with disrespect rewarded; Thy Blowes doe nothing soften them: but, more Hard hearted, rather, make them then before. They neither know nor s••eke thee. They scarce daigne So much as thoughts of thee to entertaine. Or if they doe; yet, thou in kindnesse, hast So frequently, their errors over past With gentle stripes; that they conjecture, now That thou art like to them, and dost allow Their wick••d courses. For, Is there (say they) In God, or sight, or knowledge of our way? Doth he behold, or car•• what things we doe? Will he take vengeance? Tush, it is not so. Such fables were devis'd in times of old, And of strange judgements, stories have beene told; But, who hath seene them? or, when will appeare That Day of Doome, whereof so oft we heare? Sure never. For the wo••ld doth still remaine The same it was; and these are feares in vaine. Oh! what will this increase unto, if thus Thou suffer them to make a scorne of us? Where is thy feare, if thou a Master be? Why, (if a God) should they not honour thee? What meanes thy long long-suffring? and, what way To worke amendment wilt thou next assay?

Thou hast already mov'd them to repent, By Threats, Gifts, Precepts, and by Punishment. To stop their wi••kednesse, thou Flouds, and Drought, Frosts, F••••es, and Tempests, hast upon them brought. Distempers, F••ights, and (many times of late) Distrusts, and hazzards of the publike State. With ev'ry kind of Sicknesse, thou hast try'd them; With Pestilence, and Famine, mortifi'd them: With Slaughters ••hou has•• foild them; and betwix•• Each Plague, thou Mercy still hast intermixt▪ Yet▪ all in vaine. Oh! rise, and suffer me On all at once avenged now to be. Plucke from thy bosome, thy sure striking hand, And, let it fall so heavy on that Land, That, all their Follies may their merit have, And, they be put to silence in the grave. Permit them not unplagued to persever, Blaspheming thus, thy Name and thee for ever. But, l••t me ev'ry Plague upon them cast, Which thou, for such as they, prepared hast. Let them perceive, that they have lov'd and served Those gods, by whom they cannot be preserved. Let me transport from their polluted Coast, Those Holy-things, whereof they vainly boast: And, let not their prophanenesse be protected By that, whi••h they so much have disrespect••d. For, why shouldst thou forbeare this people more Then ma••y other Nations heretofore? Since they for their example those have had The lesse excusable their faults are made. Yea, though their wickednesse were but the same, Yet, they are worthy of a greater blame. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 What are they better then the stubborne Iewes? Wherein, doe they thy blessings lesse abuse?

What have their Temples, of more worth in them Then Shilo, Bethel, or Ierusalem, That we should spare their ma••y sleepled Towres, Not rather making them the Ne••sts, and Bowres Of noysome Vermine, and such fatall Fowles, As croking Ravens, and loud screeching Owles? Why shouldst thou not, as low this Ile decline, As Milke and Hony-flowing Palestine? What ••ave they more deserved of thy pittie Then Sion, thy so much bel••ved Cit••y? Or, wherefore should their Seed be thought upon More kindely, the•• the br••tts of Babylon? Why should their Common wealth, more prised be, Then thos•• great Monarchies destroy'd b•• me In former ages, whose transcendent Fate, ••ach Time succeeding, hath admired at? Yea, since the World thou didst for s••••ning, drowne, Why should such mercy to thi•• Land be showne? If thou a piou•• King to them ••ast given, What loseth be, if then from thence to Heav'n Translate him shall? From earthly Crownes, to weare Those wreathes of Glory that immortall are? And from a froward People, to have place With Angells, and there triumph in thy grace? If any man be found observing thee, To him what discontentment can it be To view my hand prevailing over those Who me in my proceedings did oppose? And see those Tyrants ruin'd, who have long Committed violence, and offred wrong To him, and his? what b••rme hath he I pray, To passe through all that sorrow in one day, And in thy blessed pres••nce to appeare, Who else might here have lingred many a yeare?

Of what can he complaine, if being borne Above the reach of ev'ry future scorne, Within thy heav'nly Mansion, he possesse A perfect, and an endlesse happinesse? Why may not IVSTICE glorifie ••hy Name, As well as MERCY can extoll the same? Why should thy former favours, being lost, Oblige thee to defray a future cost On Prodigals, and Vnthrifts, who had rather Live Swineherds, than returne to th••e their Father? Why may not that reproach d••verted be, Which irreligious men will cast on thee Although thou spare not hypocrites; and them Who are the causers that thy Foes blaspheme? What disadvantage can their fall effect To thy pure honour? or, to thine elect, Which may not be prevented (if thou ••lease) Although thou be not mer••ifull to these? Sure, none at all: and, therefore, I will stay My hand no longer; but breake off delay. Thy Sword and Ballance, are with me in trust; To punish Sin, I know it to be just; They both arraigned, and condemned are; My warrant••, in thy written Word appea••e: Their crimes, for Vengeance, loudly crying ••e: Thy Iudgements, ready mustred are, by ••hee: Thine eye doth speake unto me to be gone; And, loe; I flye to see thy pleasure done. As when a Mother on a sudden hearing Her babe to shrieke, (and some disaster fearing That may befall ••he childe) starts up and flyes To see the reason of her Infants cries: So quick, was IVSTICE; & e're now, had brought Her work, to something; and, this Land, to nought.

••ut, to prevent her purpose, MERCIE cast Her arme about that angry Virgins waste▪ Look'd sadly on her; hung about her; kist her, And (weeping in her bosome) said, Sweet Sister, I pray thee, doe not thus impatient grow, Nor prosecute deserved Vengeance, so. Thou art most beautifull; sincerely just; Most perf••ctly upright in all thou dost; For which ••h••ne excellency, and p••rfection, I love thee with an excel••ent a••••ection. And though thou frownest; yet thy frownings be So lovely, that I cannot part ••rom thee. What though some Worldlings offer thee disgraces▪ Sh••ll they (Sweet heart) make loathed my embraces? Shall thou, and I, (who near••r are then twinnes) Fall out, o•• be divorced by their sinnes? Oh never l••t it said, or mutt red be, That we in any thing can disagr••e. For what's more lo••ely, or more sweet then thi••, That we each other may embrace and kisse? And by our mutuall workings, and agreeings, Bri••g all Gods Creatures to their perfect beings. Belee••e me (Deare) Heav'n doth not comprehend That pleasure, which this pleasure doth transcend: Nor is our Father better pleas'd in us, Then when he sees our armes emwined, thus. For should we jarre, the world would be undone, And Heav'n, and Earth, into a Chaos runne. What profit can it bring, or what content, To see a Kingdome miserably rent, With manifold afflictions? what great good To us redoundeth by the death, or b••ood Of any màn? what honour can we have? What praise, from those that in the silent gra••e

Lye raked up in ruines dead and rotten? Or in the Land where all things are forgotten? Seeke not thy Glory by their Overthrow, That are pursued by too strong a F••e, And over-match'd already; thinke upon The pow'rfull hate of that malicious One. Rem••mber they were f••amed of the dust; And that to Cl••y againe returne they must. When they are dead they passe away for ever, Ev'n as that vapour which returneth never. Oh; make them not the Butt of thy displeasure, Nor give them of Gods wrath the fullest measure. I grant this Realme is sinfull; But, what hath That Realme, or people equalling thy wrath? T'is honourable, when we stoope below Our selves; that love or favour we may show▪ Or to correct, with purpose to amend: But if with such we Foe-like should contend▪ It would appeare, as if some Empery Did arme it selfe, to combat with a Fly. When we correction, or forgivenesse daigne, We may correct them, or forgive againe: But in destroying quite, our selves we wound, And to our Infinitenesse, set a bound; For IVSTICE neither MERCY can have pl••ce▪ In subjects, which we totally deface. We must not seeke for purity divine In dust and ashes; till we first refine From earthly drosse the gold that we desire, By using of the Bellowes and the Fire. For till we purge it, what (alas) is good, Or what can holy be in Flesh and Blood? Who lookes that Figs on Thistles should be borne, ••r that sweet Grapes should grow upon a Thorne?

It cannot be. As therefore hereto••ore God promis••d, (that he would never more Contend with man) let us resolve the same; And by some other meanes, their wildenesse tam••. Keepe, yet a while, this Army where it is▪ And let us try to mend what is amisse, (As erst we did) by sending jointly thither, Our Favours, and Corrections, both together: And if they profit not, there is a Day In which thine Indi••nation shall have way. As when a Father, who, in heat of wrath To give a son correction purpos'd hath, Enraged is, untill his lovely wife Doth interpo••e her selfe with friendly strife; But (pleased in the sweetnesse of her speech, Who to forgive the Child doth him beseech) Doth lay aside his whole displeasure, then, And turne his anger into smiles agen; So, IVSTICE was by MERCY wrought upon: And she that would with so much haste be gone, Forgot her speed; Her louing Sister ey'd With calmer lookes; and thus to her reply'd. Thou, and thy charmings have prevail'd upon me, And to abate mine anger thou hast wonne me. I ••herefore will not cast my plagues on all, But on worst Livers, onely, let them fall. Nay, nay, quoth MERCIE, thou must favour show To most of them, or thou wilt overthrow The lawes of Destiny; and crost will be What God did from eternity decree. For, some of these have not fulfilled yet Their sinnes, nor made their number up complete. Some, that are wandring in the wayes of folly, Shall be regenerated, and made holy.

Of them some have morality, that may Be helpfull to Gods childr••n, in their way; Some, must be left, as were the Cana'nites, To exercise the faithfull Isr'elites; Yea some, have in their loynes a generation Vnborne, which must make up the blessed Nation. And till that seed bud forth, those trees must s••and, Although they grow but to annoy the Land. It seemes (quoth IVSTICE) I must then abide, (However they off••nd) unsatisfi'd. Vns••tisfi'd (said MERCIE) Is it that, Sweet Sister, which your zeale hath aimed at? Then, looke you there. And with that word, her eye She pla••'d on him, who sits in Majesty At Gods right hand. Behold that Lambe (quoth she) By him thou fully satisfi'd shalt be. He poore was made, that He their debt might pay; He base became, to take their shame away; He entred bond, their freedome to procure; He dangers try'd, their safeties to assure; He scorned was, their honor to advance; He seem'd a foole, to helpe their ignorance; He sin was made, their errors to conceale; He wounded was, that he th••ir wounds might heale; He thirsted, that their thirst might have an end; He wept, that joy their sorrow might attend; He lost his blood, that they their blood might save; He dy'd, that they eternall life might have. Nor canst thou any for their sins condemne, (Since he hath over-paid the price for them) If by partic'lar faith they shall apply That pardon, which he granteth gen'rally. And lest to that whole Kingdome thou deny it, For want of application, I apply it.

VVhy then (said IVSTICE) I may quite dismisse This hoast of Plagues whi••h here assembled is. Not so, replyed MERCIE: For no curse Is greater, n••r is any mischiefe worse Then want of due correction: And if I Shoul•• yeeld to that, it were not Clemency, But cruell dealing; and my love no other Then is the kindnesse of that cock••ing m••ther, Who spares the rod (out of her pure affection) And sends unto the Gallowes for correction: As if she thought her children apt for learning, If they could take a hanging for a warning▪ I s••eme to cr••sse thy workings, and thou mine, To those that n••••ther know my wayes, nor thi••e: But, is the motions in a Clocke doe tend And move together to one purpos'd end, Although their wheeles contrary courses go••, And force the even ballance to and f••o. Ev'n so, although it may to some appeare, That our proceedings much repugnant are; Yet in our disagreeings, we agree, And helpfull to our chi••fe desi••ne they be▪ We therefore, from Gods A••my will select One Regiment, this people to correct. Not his that is the Generall: for, he Resisteth us if he prevail••ng be. Nor Famine; For, (unlesse permit we shall That she devoure, untill we starve up all) She most unequally consumes the poore, And makes the rich to be enriched more. Nor will we send the Sword; for, that makes way For ev'ry plague to follow; yea, doth lay All open to confusion; and bestowes The pow'r of God oft times upon his foes.

But, we to punish them, will send from hence, The dreadfull, and impartiall PESTILENCE. For, she doth neither Ri••h, nor Poore preferre; The foolish, and the wise, are one to her: Nor eloquence, nor beauty, nor complexion, Prevailes wi••h her; Nor Hatred, nor Affection. S••e seizeth All alike; she visiteth The Palace, as the Cottage; and with death, Or else with sicknesse, strikes at each degree, Vnlesse our Supersedeas, granted be. By meanes of her, in any State, or City, Thou maist avenge, and I may show my pitty With little noise; and both at once, ••ulfill Our wishes, and accompl••sh all our will. For, where a noysome we••d is seene to sprout, She shall, at thy appointment, weed it out. Or if a plant, or bud, or flow'r we see, That's ripe for Heav'n, and may impaired be By standing longer; we the same will gather, To m••ke a precious Posie for our Father. And, as t••ou hast thy purpose, by their fall. Or smart, whom she or wound, or slaught••r shall: Right so have I: For, if they wicked are Whom she removes; th•• better sh••ll they fare, Whose Conversations truly honest be; And from oppression live the longer free. If righteous men this Iudgements ••rey become, It is appointed to secure them from Some greater Plague, which must (perhaps) be sent To scourge this Kingdome, ere it will repent; Or (peradventure) that my hand may take them From Earth, the Citizens of Heav'n to make them: And some, who never e••se on God had thought, Shall, (by her whip) unto his love be brought.

This pleased well, and IVSTIC•• did agree With MERCY, that it should all••wed be: And, for the swift ••ulfilling of their minde, The PESTILENCE, by warrant, was assi••n'd Great Brittan to invade; and limited Where to begin the Plague; how far to spread; How many she should wound; how many slay; How many grieve; how many fright away; How long abide; and when her terme was done, On what conditions (then) she must be gone. Moreover lest her stroke should not amend u••, Gods Hoast of Plagues had warrant to attend us; That if the Pestilence could not prevaile, Another might our wicked Land assaile; And then another, till we did repent, Or were consumed in our chastisement. The Prince of Darknes, (though he could not gaine Permission, fully to unloose his Chaine) His usuall pow'r obtain'd to worke despite On some offenders, and to use the sleight Of Lying-wonders: or by strong temptation To seize upon the Sonnes of Reprobation: Yea many times to buffet (for correction) Ev'n those that have the seales of Gods electio••. Dear••h was commanded, that (to make us feare A Scarceness••) she should scatter here, and the••e, A Floud, or Tempest; and at sometime bring A droughty Sum••er, or a frosty Spring, Or Mel-dewes, to remember us, from whom The blessings of a plenteous yeare doe come. Warre, (who had quite forgotten us almost) Injoyned was to sit upon our Coast; To saile about our Shore, to view our Forts, To visit all our Havens, and our Ports:

And with her dreadfull sounds, to rouze and keepe This Kingdome, f••om securities dead sleepe. But was commanded, not to seize a hoofe Of what w••s ours, till God hath made a proofe How mollifi'd our stony hearts will be; What fruits of true repentance he shall see; What change will be effected in this Land, By his correcting us with his owne hand; And what oblations of true thankes, and love, We render will upon this Plagues remove. Wherein, if we doe faile his expectation, We shall be made a miserable Nation. The Sea that now doth close us, like a wall, Shall be a Sea o•• terror; and it shall Let in our foes upon us, or with ••louds O're-flow our borders, and devoure our goods. Our wealthy Traffiques, and that forraine Trade, (Whereby so proud, and wanton we are made) Cut off shall be, and faile in ev'ry Coast. Our num'rous Fle••ts (whereof so much we boast, (And, in whole pow'r and mu••titude, I feare Ou•• trust, and hopes too much reposed are) By Stormes, and Piracies, that shall pursue them, Or want of meanes, and trading to renue them, Shall waste away unheeded; till we see Our ha••mes beyond our meanes of curing be. Our H••uses shall by strangers be possessed; Our goodly Temples, which, (as yet) are blessed With Gods t••ue worship, shall be raz'd, or bu••ned, Or into dennes of theevery be turned. Throughout those champain fields, & forrests, where We hunted for our pleasure; we by Feare Shall hunted be: and made a prey for them Whom we (perhaps) did most of all contemne.

Our People, (on whose numbers we presume) Shall by degrees be less••ned, and consume. Our Nation (late renowned through the World) Shall be unvalu'd, as old rubbish, hu••l••d In some by-corner, and quite round about us Our Foes, our Neighbo••s, & our Friends shal flout us. O••r Peace, sh••ll make us but effeminate. Our Riches, and our plentifull estate, Shall but enrich our enemies; and we (That of our King so glad, and hopefull be) Shall (for our sinnes, perchance) be quite d••prived O•• those great comforts, which we have conceived. For, e••••he•• God may give an ••ll successe To his be••t Counsells, for our f••owardnesse; Or leave us some dist••ustings in our heart, To make us censure in an evill pa••t His gracious purposes; or give a pow'r To some ill-willers of his peace, and our, To sow the seeds of Discord, and divide Our heart••, which now so lovingly are ty'd: Or let some Politician wo••ke upon His Goodnesse; and so cunningly goe on, That he shall n••ver finde, how he, and his Are injured, till all things are amisse: Which God forbid; yea, grant (O Lord) that I In these su••posals may not prophecie; As (out of doubt I shall) if any sin (That may procure it) we continue in. Yea, though our Projects may a while possesse Our hearts with flatt'••ing hopes of good successe; Th••ugh in aff••ires of VVarre, and in our Fights We thrive a while, as did the Benj••mites; Although a league with Baalam we began; And ••erodach the sonne of Baladan

Had sent us presents; and though he shall seeme To have our health and welfa••e in esteeme; Though to his Lords the treasures we declare, Which in Gods Temple here among us are: Yea, though we g••ve those holy things, to buy His love, and Babylonish amity: It should but linger us along, till they (Who seeke our overthrow) their snares doe lay▪ Vntill they have enlarg'd their growing pow'rs, And by their Policy, befooled ours; Or, till our sinnes, or our securities Have ma••e us objects for their Tyrannies, And, there enthrall'd us, where long since were hung On willow trees, untuned, and unstrung, The Harpes of Syon; and where Men contemne The heav'nly Sonnets of Ierusalem. Ev'n this shall be our lot, and worse then this, If we continue still to doe amisse, Or bring not forth the fruits of Penitence, When God hath scourg'd us by the Pestilen••••. But, if that stirre us to repenting shall, He will not onely back againe recall That raging Plague, to which he gave such pow'•• Within our peopled Cities to devoure: But, he will also on this Realme bestow New benefits, for entertaining so, With lowlinesse, his fatherly correction; And yeelding him our filiall affection. Then, ev'ry one beneath his Vine shall si•• Without disturbance; and with pleasure eate The profit of his labours. Men shall goe In ••afety through ••he Kingdome, to, and fro. Their Lands they shall enjoy in peace; and weare The warmest fleeces, that their flockes do beare.

No sonnes of Belial, shall from them divert Their Princes favour (in the smallest part) Nor shall Seditions Lovers draw from him Their loyalties, by misinforming them; But God that blessed union shall maintaine, Which ought 'twixt King and People to remain••. He, then, will multiply the fruits encrease; Prese••ve our plenty, sanctifie our peace: And guide by Land and Sea, our preparations Of l••wfull warre, to seize upon those Nations That are our foes, and his. Which, that He may Vouchsafe unto us; let us ev'ry day Produce of thankfulnesse some new effect: Let us observe (with ev'ry due respect) The progresse of that Plague sent lately hither; How CLEMENCY & IVSTICE came togeth••r; Relating to each other what we saw To kindle love, or keepe our soules in awe; And so record it, that (should we be rotten) It may be still p••eserved unforgotten. For, that we might his honour forth declare, We bo••h created, and preserved were. To such a purpose, I doe thus employ That scorned Faculty, which I enjoy; And (for the compa••••ing of my intention) Have offr••d up the best of my invention; And what that is (to those, who doe regard Such paines) the following Cantoes have declar'd Behold (O Lord) my purposes from heav'n, Accept of me the gift that thou hast given. Permit not those, who spite or malice me, To interrupt my M••se in praising t••ee. Let none of those, who finde that I neglect The way to wealth, which th••y ••oo much affect,

Conceive, that I my Time have spent in vaine, Because their Studies yeeld them greater gaine; Let them perceive, though this endevour brings Nor Riches, Honours, nor esteeme of Kings; But rather wasts my Fortunes, and doth more Increase my charge, and troubles, then before; Let them (I say) conceive, and also know, That I am highly pleas'd, it should be so; And would not change the bless••ng of my Fate With those, whom they doe hold more fortunate. And let not that, which I have here comprised▪ Become (through my unworthinesse) despised; But grant it such a moderate respect, Th••t I may see my labours take effect For their enc••uragements, who shall apply To such goode••ds, their gift of Poësie; And let all those, who shall peruse my Story▪ Receive some profit, and give thee, the glory.

The second Canto.

Our Muse defends her lowly stile; And (having flowne aside a while) Tells, how the Plague first entred here▪ What meanes to stay it practis'd were. Some vulg••r Tenets are disputed; Some rectified, some refuted. She from the Nature, and the Cause, Of that Disease, conclusions drawes; Declareth how it runnes and creepes, And what un••ertaine paths it keepes: How long strict orders usefull stood;

The fruit of Christian neighbourhood; And many other things, be••wixt These mentioned, are intermixt. She sh••we••h (also) meanes assured By which, this mischiefe may be cured; How to apply that meanes; how those Who use it, should themselves compose; How violent the Plague did grow; Who from it might, or might not goe; How much t'was feared; how men fled; How ill, in flying, many sped; And lastly (as occasion moves) She grieves, she counsells, and reproves.

LEt no fantastique Reader now condemne Out homely Muse, for stooping u••to them, In plaine expressions, and in words, that show We love not, in affected paths, to goe. For, to be understood, is language used; And speech to other ends as much abused▪ Lines, therefore, over-darke, or over-trimm'd, Are like a Picture with a Visour limm'd; Or like Poma••ders of a curious sent, Within a painted Box that hath no vent; Or like Peach-kernels, which, (to get them forth) Require more cracking, then the fruit is worth. Let no man guesse, my Measures framed be, That wiser men, my little wit may see; Or that I doe not hold the matter good, Which is not more admir'd then understood: For, chiefly, such a Subject I desire, And such a plaine Expression, to acquire, That ev'ry one my meaning may discerne; And they be taught, that have most need to learne.

It is the usefull matter of my Rim••s Shall make them live. Wo••ds alter as the Times: And soonest ••heir fantastique Rhetoriques, Who trim their Poesies with schooleboy-tricks. That, which this age affects, as grave, and wise, Th•• fo••lowing generation may despise. Green••s phr••se, and ••••llie's language were in fashion, And had among the wits much c••mmendation; But now, another garbe of speech, with us Is pri••'d; and thei••s is thought ridi••ulous; As ours (perchance) will be, whē Time (who changeth Things changea••l••) the present phrase estrangeth. Let no m••n therefore dreame, I will bestow My precious Time in what will vary so; Since that, which, with most ease I shall produce, May have (for ought I know) the longest use. Let no man thinke, I'le racke my memory For pen and-inkehorne-termes, to finifie My blunt invention; trimming it, as they Who make rich clothes but for Saint George his day; When they may be••ter ••heape a suite provide, To fit that feast, and many dayes beside. Nor l••t unlearned Censurers suppose Our Muse a course unwarrantable ••oes, In framing Objects representative, Which may imprint▪ or in the soule revive, True feelings of that wrath or love, which we In God almighty, by Faiths eyes doe see. For, though his holy Spirit, when he will, Can easily the soule•• of mortals fill With heav'nly knowledges, by wayes unseene; Yet, he himselfe hath sometime pleased beene By ou••ward object•• to employ the senses, In reaching to the soule some excellencies

Conceal'd before. Yea, many times he suites His Deity in our poore attributes; And (that our weaknesse he may work upon) Our usuall speech, and passions, he puts on▪ If so; then we, that have no other way Our hidden apprehensions to conuey From Man to Man, but by the qu••int creation Of some Ideaes in our contemplation; That so the senses may become inclin'd To give some information to the mind: Then we (I say) whose fluid memories Would else let goe our ayrie fantasies, May such a libe••••y with warrant use. And I (no doubt) my selfe may well excuse, If other while things bodilesse I cloath With mortall bodies; and doe give them both Our speeches, and our gestures▪ Fo••, by this A dull affection often quickned is. Nor thus to doe, are Poets onely moved But, these are straines Pro••heticall, approved. To say, that God is angry; or that he Will of our wickednesse avenged be; Moves little: but, to paint his fury, so That Men the dreadfulnesse thereof may know, As if they s••w it: or his love to make So pleading of our cause, as if it spake (Within our hearing) with such earnestnesse, As friends would plead for friends in their distress••; Doth much incite the Reader to attention, And rouseth up the dullest apprehension. Me thinks, I doe, (as with mine eye) behold The reall sight of all that I have told: Yea, that which I my selfe described here, Doth touch mine heart with re••ere••ce, and fea••e.

I have perpetuall Visions of that rout Of Plagues, and Iud••emen••s, which doe rove about To punish us. And, from that dreadfull hoast I see (me thinkes) how to invade our Coast, The Plague march'd hither, like a Regiment That is for services of moment sent From some great Armie. And, when I can bend My troubled spirits truly to attend Gods Iudgements, and his Mercies, as they goe Their daily progresse; I can reach unto Much pleasing thoughts; and oftentimes foresee, What his intents, and their even•••• will be: For, when Mans heart is filled with his Feare, The secrets of the Lord to him appeare. Oh! what rich treasures doth my soule possesse, When I doe contemplate the blessednesse, The Wisedome▪ and the Way of God most high? How farre above my selfe rais'd up am I? How little want I, ••ha•• the world can give? What heights ascend I? what huge depths I dive? How much contemne I dangers here below? How c••rtaine of Gods favours can I grow? And wi••h what sweetn••sse is my brest inspired, When (by the heat of Contemplation fired) I sit lock'd up within a lonely roome, Whe••e nothing to disturbe my thoughts may come; And where may enter neither sight, nor Notion Of any thing, but what may ••••irre Devotion? Sure, were it not, that I am cloth'd about With flesh, that doth compell me to come out; Or, knew I not the Christian Mans estate Extend••d ••urther, t••en to contemplate; Or saw not them unthankfully precise, Who Gods externall blessings quite despise;

Or fear'd I not▪ I never should have union With God, unlesse I were in some communion Of Saints on earth; whom I might sharers make Of those sweet thoughts of him, which I pa••take; Or, if I doubted not, I might with Lot, Vpon the daughters of my b••aine begot, Commit some spirituall incest, had I none To spend the seed of my full Soule upon: Or, if I found it not unnaturall, To leape out of the world, till God did call; And that fantastique wayes of selfe-contenting Are but the certaine paths to selfe-tormenting; If all these things I knew not; I could bide Shut up, untill my flesh we••e Mummy-si'd; And (though the world should woo me) would disd••in (For ever) to unclose my doore againe. For though (when I come sorth) I lose agen My ••aptures; and have thoughts like other men; Because my nat'rall f••ailties, and the fog Of earthly Vanities, my soule doth clog: Yea, though I can as hardly keepe those firings Vnquench'd abroad, which are (in my retirings Inflamed in me;) as a naked Man Retaine that heat upon a ••ountaine can, Which in a close warme chamber he retaineth: Ye•• (for my comfort) somewhat still remaineth: And in my recollections I possesse More happinesse, then I can well expresse. I view contentments, which I cannot measure; I have some tastings of immortall pleasure; I g••immerings have of hid••en mysteries; My ••ou••e on glorious things doth fix her eyes: And though some whited walls (who did attempt To bring my Muse and Me, unto contempt)

Endevour still (with shewes of Pietie) My best-approved paines to v••l••fie: I can with scorne of their base envy, raise My thoughts above their ignorant dispraise: And pitty their dull sottishnesse, who prize Their shadowes better, then real••ties. For I have search'd their folly, and espy'd That they have drown'd their wisdome in their prid••▪ Yea, by their partiall dealings, I now see They judge mens merits, as their titles be: And I have gotten those brave things in chase, That shall advantage me, by my disgrace. When, therefore, by my selfe I am enclosed, And for an heavn'ly rapture, well disposed; I doe not grudge mine enemies to spue Their flanders on my name; or to pursue My labours with reproach; nor prey to make On all my fortunes: But all well can take. I doe not then repine, although I see That Fooles ennobled, Knaves enriched be, And honest men unheeded: but I bide As pleased, as I am at Whitsontide, To see faire Nymphs in Country Townes rejected, And sluttish Milkmaids by the Clownes elected For Ladies of the May. And if I chance Where any of those Hobby horses prance; I can in sport, or courtesie, bestow Those termes upon them, which I doe not owe. For when on Contemplations wings I flye, I then o're-looke the highest Vanity. I see how base those fooleries do•• show, Which are a••mired, while I creepe below: And by the brightnesse of a two-fold light (Re••••ecting from Gods word to cleare my sight)

Faiths objects to her eyes, much plainer are, Then those which to my outward ••••ght appeare. My towring Soule is winged up, as if She over-flew the top of Tenariffe, Or some far higher Mountaine; where we may All actions of this lower World survey. I am above the touch of malice borne; I am beyond the reach of ••v'ry scorne; And could—But what mean I? this seems a ••••rai•• Impertinent▪ Sweet Muse, come downe againe; Soare not so high. For in these lofty flights The Fooles below, doe thinke our Eagles, Kites. The world, to flout such Raptures now is prone; I will enjoy them (therefore) al•• alone: Of their unhallow'd censuring take heed, And in my former purpose, thus proceed: When (as you heard before) the Court of Heav'n Commission to the Pestilence had given To scourge our sinnes, and signed her direction••▪ She tooke vp all her boxes of Infections, Her Carbuncles, her Sores, her Spots, her Blaines, And ev'ry other thing which appertaines To her contagious practices; and all Her followers she did about her call; Appoint them to their places, and their times, D••rect them to the Persons, and the Crimes They should correct, and how they should advanc•• Her maine Designement in each circumstance. Then, on she marched; not as doth a Foe Proclaiming Warre, before he strikes the blow; But like an Enemy, who doth surprise Vpon the fi••st advantage he espies. For (passing through the streets of many a Towne Disguised like a Fever) she, (unknowne)

Stole into London; and did lu••ke about The well fill'd Suburbs; spread••ng there (no doubt) Inf••ction unperceiv'd, in many a place Before the blea••e ey'd Searchers, knew her face; And since they knew her, they have bribed beene A thous••nd times, to let h••r passe unseene. But at the length, she was discover'd at A Frenchmans house without the B••shopsgate. To intimate (perhap••) that such as be Our spirituall Wats••men, should the more foresee That they with d••scipline made strong the Ward, Which God appointed hath for them to g••ard; And chiefly, at this present, to have care, Lest now, while we, and France un••ted are In bodily commerce; they bring unto us Those Plagues which may eternally undoe us. For, such like Pestilences soone begin; And (ere we be aware) will enter in, Vnlesse our Bishops, both betimes, and late, Be diligent and watchfull at their Gate. As soone, as e're the Women-spyes descry'd, This Foe about the City to reside; There was a loud All-arme. The Countrimen Began to wish themselves at home agen. The Citizens were gen'rally appal••'d; The Senators themselves to Counsell call'd; And all (who might advise in such a case) Assembled in their Common meeting place; Where, what discretion publikely was used; What was admitted of, and what refused; What policies, and stratagems invented; That mischiefes, comming on, might be prevented, I cannot say: For I had never wit, Nor wealth enough, to sit in Counsell, yet.

B•••• if to judge of things it lawfull were By ••hei•• events; the propositions there Were such as these. Most thought the surest play To save their persons, was, to runne away; But lest some higher pow'r might then forbid it, They did not pu••lish that, b••fore they did it. Some urged, that the Scav••nger should keepe The s••reet•• more cleane, and oft the channell sweep; Some thought it fit, (and these no harme did thinke) That ev'ry morning we should eate, and drinke. Some (to allay the heat) did hold it meet To sprinkle water often in the street. Some did a little further nat'••allize, And these unto the Ayre would sacrifize (In evening fires) pure F••ankincense or Myrrhe, Sweet herbes, or odorif'rous Iuniper; Or (for default of those) Pitch, Rosin, Tarre▪ And such perfumings as lesse costly are. For if the Heart and Liver of a Fish (Burnt by yo••ng Tobit in a Chafind••••h) A Spirit from his chamber could expell▪ They hoped these might purge ill ayres, as well: Some others (not contented herewi••hall) Did into consultation also call The P••iests of Ae••culapius, and Apollo; And held it fit their grave advice to follow: Nor without cause. For, from the wise Physitia•• We best sha••l know this Enemies condition. And some there were of those, who did advise Not onely to assume those remedies Which Art prescrib'd▪ but also therewithall Observed what was M••taphy••••call. Yea, some s••ncerely, and religiously Vpon the soules infection had an eye,

As well as on the bo••ies: and th••se went The surest way that sicknesse to prevent. But there were others, who derided these, And talked heath'nish••y of this disease. They prated much of Humours, Incl••nations▪ Conjunction, planetary Constellations; Of nat'rall causes, unbeleeved fictions; Impostures, Fables, and meere contradictions In th••t Phil••sophy, which they professe: VVhich fill'd mens mindes with much unsetlednesse. Yet in their disagreeings, they agree'd On that which might their common profit breed▪ One had a rare Perfume of speciall note; Another had a precious Antidote, VVhich at Constantinople had been tride VVhen there two thousand on a day have di'de. A third, prefert'd a Mixture in a bag, Of whose large vertues he did largely brag, And said, the same they doe in Plague times, weare At Rome, (and so I think when he was there.) A fourth, by Diets, safety did assure. A fifth, by Drinkes, the Pestilence would cure. A sixth of Cordials, and Elixars prates; And some of Treacles, and of Mithridates. To offer up a portion of the blood (To save the rest) for some, it seemed good. For other some to purge: for all to take Such meanes as might their purses heavie make. They to the rich prescrib'd Preservatives On costly termes: and, to prolong the lives Of poorer men, their consciences abated The value much: For, health, to them was rated At some few handfuls of that herbe or grasse, Which to be gotten▪ for the gathering was.

This being knowne, the Senators dismisse Those men; and by advice it ordered is, That some Instructions shall be published, To further what was gravely counselled. Moreover, that their discipline might cary Some likenesse to proceedings military, A band of Ha••be••••s, mustred was, to guard The people from the Plague, in ev'ry Ward. And, if they found, by serious inquisition, (Or, had but any probable suspition) Where lodg'd it was (although but for a night) That Host, exiled was from publike sight; Close pris'ner him they kept bo••h night and day, As one that els•• their Citie might betray. And, to compell that his unwelcome Guest Should keepe wi••hin; his doo••e was crost, and blest: And many VVatchmen, strengthned by command, Did round about his dwelling, armed stand. I doe not thus expresse, or mention this, As if I thought those Orders were amisse: But, that I might, hereby, the better show What miseries, attended on this Foe; And, that this Malady, on us did ce••ze, With circumstances, worse then the Disease. My Muse inspires not me so foolishly, That I all naturall causes doe deny. I doe not thinke, but to this Pest••lence, The Constellations, by their influence Might somewhat adde: and that corrupted ayre, Might helpe our healthy being to impaire. I hold, that Diets, Meats, Complexions, Passions, With such as these, and all their mitigations, May helpe or hinder much in such diseases As we endeavor shall; and as God pleases.

Nor doe I flout the wisedome, or the paine Of those who s••ught this mi••chiefe to restraine: Nor blame I their much diligence, or care; But praise it; and could wish it doubled were; W••••h som•• such observ••tion••, as would make Their practices, the mor•• successe to t••ke; And that their naturall meanes had hallowed bin, With so much Fait••, and penitence▪ for sin, As might hav•• brought more workes of Piety, To san••tifie their outward Poluy Fo•• those dull N••turalists, who think, this Foe, Doth by meere nat'••all causes▪ come o•• goe, Are much deceiv'd▪ Yea, in their he••rts, they say, There is no God, how ••ver gl••ze they may: And as their cogitation•• are unholy, So is their seeming wisedome▪ sottish folly. They are the base Conjunctions, and Aspects Of Sin, that this our Climate, so infects; And neither Constellations, nor the Weather: For, then we had beene po••s'ned all together, By this Contagion; and had breath'd the longer Or shorter while, as nature had beene stronger, Or weaker in us Nothing had beene free, But birds and beasts had dy'd as well a•• we; And this Disease had seiz'd on ev'ry Creature Or more or lesse, as it partakes our nature: It was no n••ysome Ayre, no ••ewre, or Stinke, Which brought this Death, as most among us thinke, For, then those places where ill smells abound, Had more infectious at that time beene found, Then we perceive they were; yea, this Disease, On ev'ry person delicate, would seize, Without exception. And where Savours ill Still bide, the Plague should there continue still:

Then, if they brought the same, they sure feed it, And, keepe it alwayes there, as well as breed it. Which God ••orbid; and ••each us to discerne His providence, and what thereby to learne. Vaine thoughts have also they, who credit can That, this Infirmity, at first, began, By meanes of populousnesse. For, were it so; Some Courts and Allies, many yeares agoe, Had beene infected: And, th••se places, where Throng'd up together, greatest numbers are; From Visitation, had not free remained, When open Streets, and Borroughs have complained▪ And, let them not beleeve their fallacy, Because great Cities, have most frequently, This fearfull Sicknesse, or, afflicted be, When little Townes and Villages, are free. For, as there is in great and popular places, More sin, and more abundance of Gods graces: So, it is just▪ that thither should be sent The greater measure of his Chastisement, That so, their eminen••e, might shew abroad, As well the Iustice, as the Love of God; Whose Iudgements being laid on Townes obscure, Might small respect, and lesse effect procure. As ignorant as these, I reckon those, Who this Disease, infectious doe suppose To ev'ry one: and, them, who credit not That Sicknesse, by infection may be got: For, these opinions can have no defence; Since both will false be found, in common sense. For, if we say, this Plague infects not any, How commeth it, we daily see so many Consum'd beneath one roofe in little space? How comes it, that it creeps from place to place,

So orderly, as oftentimes we see, In some close Lane o•• Street? How may it be That twenty Villages (far distant from Infected Places) tainted should become Within some few dayes after their arriving Who in contageous places had their living? None being there, before they came, infected, Nor any such disease neare-hand suspected? How comes all this, unlesse the Malad••e, Hath in it selfe, as had the L••prosie, A spreading Nature, and envenom'd that Which of her poison can participate? Beleeve it; as the Violet, or Rose, (With pure and pleasing sweetnesse) where it grow••s Perfumes the Aire, and sendeth Odours out, Which keepe a certaine distance there-about; And, more or lesse, affect the Passers-by, As they have more or lesse capacity In smelling them; Or, as the calmed aire, Is either, more or lesse, corrupt or faire: Right so, this Plague, ev'n naturally affects A space of Aire about it; and infects, (At such or such a distance) ev'ry one, As he hath weaknesses, to worke upon: Unlesse, that her malignitie be staid By naturall meanes, or powre Divine alaid. And yet, a false Position make they shall Who thence infer, the Plague infecteth all, Who breathe her tainted Aire. For, how did they Escape it ••hen, who long time, night and day In places of infection were detain'd? And in the bosome of this Pest ••emain'd, Ev'n whe••e they often had their eares and eyes, Affronted, by the sad aspect, and cries,

Of Death and Dying men? How scaped he That in the Church, obliged was to be Among infectious people; and to speake Till tired were his lungs; and spirits weake? Ev'n when the peoples, thronging, and their heat Did vapour up their breathings, and their sweat For him to swallow? What preserv'd the Clarkes, The Sextens, Searchers, Keepers, and those Sharks, The shamelesse Bearers? (who were nigh become, A rout too bad, to picke out hangmen, from?) How scap't the Surgeon, that oft puts his head Within the steame of an Infectious bed▪ And, ev'ry day doth handle, search, and dresse, Those Biles, that over-flow with rottennesse? Or (which is more) how scapt those Babes, the Pest, That were not only weake, but suckt the brest Of Mothers deadly sicke, when they did weare Those noisome Blaines, that most infectious are? This often chanceth. Yea, this hath beene seene When on the ve••y brest, the sore hath beene. Nay, I have heard (by credible relation) That neare to Stra••ford-bow, this Visitation, A little Infant was preserv'd alive, Who sucked on the dying brests of five. How this may be I know not; If I shall Conclude with some, this Plague hath powre on al•• Nor can I finde a reason how it stinted, Or how our totall ruine was prevented. For, when it was at height; and when appear'd, Most causes, that Infection should be fear'd; Then, no man was confined, as before: No Bill, or Crosse, was fixt on any doore; We visited the Sicke; we shunned neither The place nor person; but met all together.

Yet then, and (let us marke it) not till then, This Plague, her fury did abate agen; And constantly abate, though most refused To keepe such Orders, as at first were used. Which manifest••th well, that (howsoe're Malignant in it selfe, the ••est appeare) Gods hand restraines it; many a man protecting Immediately: some, mediately directing To such, or such a meanes of preservation, That they might honour him in their salvation▪ And, as he striketh some, that men might feare His Iustice: So, he other some doth spare, That they might love his Mercies; and perceive That he can at his pleasure take, and leave. For, if God saved none; some Athe'st, would not Make doubt, perhaps, to publish that he could not; And, scarce one man would be so neighbourly, To helpe his brother in this malady. Which Charity to further (and to shew How safely, men their Callings may pursue In ev'ry danger) we have had, this yeare, Of Gods great Providence, faire token, here. For, 'tis observ'd, that he hath few destroy'd Who were in this mortality employ'd About those Offices, which have to us (In common sense) appear'd most dangerous. Few Sextons, and few Surgeons have miscari'd, Who in their callings at this want have tary'd. And of those Market-folks▪ who at our need Brought in provisions, this weake place to feed, I cannot heare of one, who did become Infected; or, who brought infection home. Ev'n in that Parish where I did abi••e; And where, nigh halfe a thousand, weekly dy'd)

Not one of all that number perished, That were the common Bearers of the Dead. But, though from midnight, till the break of day, They did infectious Ca••kasses convay From sickly Dwellings, to those Pits of Death, Which breathed out a most contagious breath, With life and health, their service, God rewarded; Ev'n though the most of them nought else regarded, But that base gaine which might their want supply, Or feed them in some wicked vanity. How then, can we, that of this favour heare, From any lawfull action flye through feare? Or doubt of Gods protection, when we make A dangerous attempt, for conscience sake? And know, beside, that what we ••••rive to do, We are both called, and oblig'd unto? Moreover, since the latter sort here named, Are (for the greater part) in life defamed; Such, who their needfull Offices abused; Such, who nor outward meanes, nor inward used; To keep their healths (but, grew the bolder in The practices of ev'ry kind of sin) Such, whom Gods Iudgements stupified more, And made far harder hearted, then before. Since those (I say) of such condition were, And yet preserved in their Callings, here: For what good use I pray can we suppose Those men were so preserved; but that those Who truly seeke Gods glory in their stay, Might have the more assurance in their way? And know, that if to such God please to give This mortall life, they shall much rather live; Or else (which is far better) if they dye, Obtaine a life, with immortality.

Some Wiseman-woud-be, now, perhaps, will prate That this is Claphamnisme: And, that the State (In her good policies to stop the breach Of this g••eat Plague) is wrong'd by what I teach? But, rather they injurious are to me Who so affirme; and vaine their cavils be. For, though to shew the powre Divine the more, Our Muse declares, by what is gone before, That Gods owne hand, our Citie did preserve, When we scarce Mea••es, or Order, did observe. Let no man gather thence, that we maintaine, All Mean••s▪ or Civill Orders to be vaine. For, of selfe-murther that man guiltie dies, Who, meanes of health doth wilfully despise. Yea, doubtl••sse, there belongs a curse to them, That orderly proceedings doe contemne. And, whereas we our Orders did transgresse, It was necessitie, not wilfulnesse, That u••ged it; because, our common woe, Did far•••• beyond the powre o•• O••d••r, goe. At rising of the ••loud we made a Bay; But, at the height, it carri'd all away. In humane Policie, we s••w no hope. But, as the stones and Timbers whi••h doe stop A Breach at first; when all is drowned o're, Doe nothing else, but make the waters rore: So, when our Sicknesse, and our Poverty, Had greater wants than we could well supply, Strict Orders did but more enrage our griefe, And, hinder in accomplishing releefe. Had ev'ry house beene lockt which we suppos'd To stand infected, few had beene unclos'd, Yea, our fi••st Orders had we still observ'd, The healthie Housholds would not halfe have serv'd

To keepe the Sicke. And who should then have heeded Our private cares? Or got us that we needed? As long as from each other, we ref••ain'd, We greater sorrowes ev'ry day sustain'd: Yea, whilst for none, but for ou•• selves we car'd, Our brethren perisht, and the worse we far'd. This made us from our Policies appeale, And meete in Love, each others wounds to he••le. This, made vs from our civill Orders flie, To make more practise of our Charitie. And hereunto, pe••haps, compell'd were we, By meere necessitie, to l••t us see Experiments, of that unmatched good, Which flowe••h from a Christian Neighbourh••od▪ And learne what publike, and what pr••vate case It bringeth in a g••nerall Dise••se: And how it may a Common-wealth sustaine When carnall Wisdome, and Selfe-love are vaine▪ O••, we perchance from vulgar helpes were driven, Lest Overmuch assurance might be given To outward meanes: Or, lest we us'd them so, As if Gods powre were chained thereunto. O•• else, it was permitted, to d••clare That fruitlesse all our best endevours are. Without his blessing: That, no creatures have A Vertue to preserve till he will save: That, his immediate powre must countermand, When any Plague hath got an upper hand: And, that, such Mercy showne in s••ch distresse, Might binde us to the greater thankfulnesse. But, lest what here precedeth hath not showne My purpose fully; be it also knowne, That to restraine, or spurre the PESTILENCE, There is both supernat'rall Providence

And Causes naturall. The first of these Can worke without the later, if it please. The later cannot any thing effect, But, as the former shall the same direct. And, though in ev'ry sicknesse, thus it is, Yet, such hid properties are found in this, Such oppositions in the Naturall Causes, Such knots, and riddles; that it much amazes The naturall man: because he seldome findes (As he perceives in griefes of other kindes) The Causes and Effects agree together; For, there is much uncertainty in either. On some, this Plague doth steale insensib••y, Their muddy nature, stirring secretly To their destruction. Some, it striketh so, As if a mortall hand had with a blow Arrested them; and on their flesh hath seene A palmes impression, to appearance, beene. One m••n is faint, weake, sickly, full of feare, And drawes his breath where st••ongst infections are, Yet scapes with life. Another man is young, Light-hearted, healthy, stout, well-temper'd, strong, And lives in wholesome ayre, yet gets a fit Of this Land Cale••ture, and dies of it. Some are tormented by it, till we s••e Their veines and sinewes almost broken be, The very soule distracted, sense bereft, And scarce the smallest hope of scaping le••t, Yet soone recover. Othersome, againe Fall suddenly; or feele so little paine When they are seized, that they breathlesse lye, E're any dying Symptomes, we ••spy. On some, an endlesse drowsinesse doth creep••: Some others, cannot get one winke of sleepe.

This, useth ev'ry day preservatives, Yet dies: another taketh none, yet lives. Ev'n thus vncertainly this Sicknesse playes; Spares, wounds, and killeth, many sev'rall wayes. From this experience, let us not conclude, As many doe among the multitude, Who misconceiving (to no small offence) The doctrine of Eternall Providence, (Who from the truth of sober knowledge wandring, And Gods Decrees, and Iustice also slandring) Doe so necessitate the Fate of man, That, whatsoever he endevour can, His paines is lost; and that foredoom'd, he must At this or that set moment turne to dust: And that no industry, no innocence, No wilfull carelesnesse, or foule offence, N••r any humane actions helpfull be To life or death, but meerly Gods De••ree. Ev'n such there be. And, howsoever they Preach Faith, or Workes, in show, yet, th••y denay The pow'r of both; and secretly maintaine, (By consequence at least) that meanes are vaine. For, they affirme that ev'ry thing men doe, They are by God predestinated to Before all worlds; So, that our pow'r, or will, Affecteth; not effecteth good, or ill; And that we are by doome inevi••able In ev'ry kind of action made unable. Which Tenet, seemeth rather to arise From those, who write of heathnish Des••inies, Then from a Christian. For, though true it be, That, God Almighty, all things doth foresee, And order so, and so dispose of things, That, to perfection his owne worke he brings,

In spight of Satan, and of every deed That may from his malignant brood proceed: Yet, they have Actions naturally their owne, Which God permits. He likewise hath bestowne On us that are his children, grace, and powres, Good Actions to performe, which we call ours By Gods free gift. Moreover, he doth please To promise blisse, or threaten plagues, for these, According to their natures; that each one May heed the be••ter, what is to be done: Be stirred up to put good workes in use, Or else be left at last without excuse. For▪ though I am assured we possesse, By Nature, no inherent Righteousnesse; I, naithelesse beleeve that ev'ry one (Whose being, first, from Adams loines begun) Received since our Universall fall One Talent, at the least, to worke withall, With so much powre of working also, that We may and should with God cooperate. As Adam all men did of life deprive; Ev'n so by Christ, were all men made alive: Yea, ev'n as Moses did not let remaine One hoofe in Aegypt which did appe••taine To Isr'ell; So beleeve I that not one▪ Was left unransom'd by Gods only Sonne: But that all through the sea of bloud d••d come, As well those other who doe wander from Truths path in this lifes wildernesse; as they Who come within the Land of Promise may. And, though like him, who impudently, laid Injustice to his Masters charge, and said; He reaped where he sow'd not, though, I say; There want not some among us, at this day,

Who like to him, doe most unthankfully This grace of God in IESVS CHRIST deny; (Affirming, that he some injoynes unto Much more, than he did give them power to) Our Maker unto ev'ry soule that lives, So much by vertue of Christs Passion gives, That whosoever falleth, fal••s not by Anothers, but his owne iniquitie; And, by his actuall crimes, makes unforgiven That Debt originall which was made even By his Redeemer, who, that, backe will have, (If we abuse it) which at first he gave. Who ev'r wants powre to doe what God doth bid, Lost in himselfe, that pow••e as Adam did: Yet, we that have it, neither had that powre, No•• keepe it can, by any strength of our; But by his holy Spi••it, who hath taught That path of life wherein to walke we ought. And, this is such a Mystery, that some Which thinke they s••e, are blinde therein become▪ Our guiltie Soules and Bodies were bereft Of all good Faculties, and had not left So much as Will, much lesse the powre to doe What soule or B••d••es health conduced to. Their guilt Christ from them tooke; and by his might Depraved Nature so much sets to right, That unto ev'ry Soule, he gives the will Which Adam had, of chusing good or ill. And then both Life and Death, he doth propose Before them so, that either may be chose. To them, whom in his Church he doth afford To live past Child-hood, He doth by his Word (And by no other meanes) this tender make. With Infants, and with Heathens, he may take

Some other course. But, surely, when, or how He that effects; concernes not us to know. When God doth make this tender (which is then When he doth please, and no man knoweth when) If any Soule by Sathans guile doth chuse, What Gods good Spirit moves her to refuse, She, then, to put in action doth begin The haynous and impardonable sin Against the Holy Ghost (which f••arfull crime Is made apparant to the world, in time, Or more or lesse, by outward actions here, As God shall please to let the same appeare) And, after this refusall, ev'ry thing, Which doth encrease of grace, to others, bring, Doth make her grow more senselesse of her state, Or else enrage, or make her desperate. And, her freewill, in Adam lost before, Is lost againe, by her, for evermore. But, if she chuseth as the Spirit move••h, The Lord, this Soule, without repenting loveth; In her, preserving such affections still, And such a portion of her first Freewill, That though the frailties of her flesh doe seeme To choake them often, in the worlds esteeme; (And sometime in her owne) yet she for ever Doth in her motion towards God persever, Till she arive in him. Nor doth she cease Of pious workes, her number to encrease: But labours for assurance in election, By reaching ev'ry day at more perfection. An••, far is it from God to take away The guerdon of our Faith; or to denay What he did by his Covenant, ordaine, To be the wages of our Christian paine:

Or to command us what should profit nought; Or, to neglect the workes that we have wrought. For, since God heeds those things that are so small, As birds alightings, and as haires that fall; Makes use of ev'ry circumstance, and chai••es (To further those maine ends which he ordaines) Ten thousand little trifling things together; Not one omitting, none displacing neither, Which may be pertinent his ends to fu••ther, Or to effect them, in their timely Order. How could so fond a crotchet be devised, That God our serioust actions hath despised? Or, that by his Foreknowledge, or Decree, Our deeds should all annihilated be? Or, that he should so oft incite us to What he had giv'n to man, no pow'r to doe? I dare not venture upon their distractions, Who search the order of Eternall actions; Nor doe I further seeke what God foreknowes, Then he within his Word revealed showes; Nor will I ever strive to pry into His hidden couns••lls, as too many doe: But their unwarrantable paths eschewing, And, Gods disclosed purposes pursuing, Search onely for the knowledge of those things Which an effecting of his pleasure brings. Since, if I follow them, it cannot be That he would purpose any harme to me; Or in his secret counsell ought ordaine To make his publi••e will to be in vaine. For, though, when Abram, Isa'k thought to kill, God's hidden purpose, and revealed will Did seeme to crosse each other (And when he Did threaten Niniveh destroy'd should be)

Yet, they appeare not opposite to those Whose faith, such holy secrets can disclose. Or were it so; from acts particular None should conclusions generall inferre. God neuer said, as yet, that I could heare, Man, such a day shall perish, howsoe're By faithfull workes for safety he endeauour. But, all his promises and threatnings, euer Were made conditionall; and haue fore-spoken Our life, or death, as they are kept, or broken. Nor is this any barre, or contradiction To Gods free Grace; or to his firme Election, Or never-ending Loue. Nor helpes it those Who, perseverance of the Saints, oppose: But, rather, maketh all those Doctrines good. Yea, being rightly weigh'd and understood, Gods iustice, and his mercy it unites, Whom mens blind Cavills haue made opposites. God knew the doome, and date of Adams crime, Yet, he did fore-expresse no certaine time; But, speaking of it, spake indefinitely, And said, That d••y thou sinnest, thou shalt dye. And sure, of all mens deaths (who e're gaine saies) It is their sinne that setteth downe the daies. For, till transgression forfeited our breath, There was no peremptory day of death. And, in affirming, where Gods Word is mute, It is presumption, to be absolute. Doe this, saith God, and liue; Doe that and perish. Yet some, whose overfights too many cherish, Dare contradict it; and affirme that wee Good, bad, dead, liuing, damned, saued be Eu'n from eternity, without respects, To any causes, or to their effects.

And these imply, that (whatsoe're we doe, Or leaue vndone) God fore-appoints us to A certaine doome; which we shall striue in vaine, With all our strength, to shunne▪ or to obtaine. And wherefore then did God his Gospell send? Why doth his Word exhort vs to amend? Why doth he ••id vs, this, or that to shunne? Why hath he charged some things to be done? If he no power hath giuen, or else by fate Disableth all men to cooperate? And leaues them neither good nor ill to doe But what he fore-decreed long agoe? Why threats he stripes? why promiseth reward? If there be no compassion, no regard, Nor meed for what is done. And what I pray Is all Religion, if these truth doe say? I know God reprobates▪ and doth foresee Before all worlds, who reprobates will be. But, none he forceth to be so accurst, Saue those who haue his Grace rejected first▪ And vnto those, indeed, he powre denies To worke his will, because they did despise His profered Love; And just it is in him, To make them blinde, who did the light contemne. He doth eternally abhorre the crime; But he the persons reprobates in time. And None doth chuse, or personally reject (What ever some conceive) but with respect Vnto his Covenant; which hath implide Something to be perform'd on either side. For, were it so, that God hath fore-decreed What should befall unto us without heed To any Covenant; and bar'd Salvation, By an eternall doome of R••probation,

(In such like manner as the fantasies Of some (not well advisedly) devise) What compasse we by striving therewithall▪ Why spend we time, in rising up to fall? Why linger we to act so many crimes? To suffer over griefe so many times? And live so many sev'rall deaths to taste, To be nor worse, nor better at the last? Or wherefore have we prayed, since we know What must be, must be, though we pray not so? I might be thought o're bitter, if as they I should interrogate, who sharply say; Why doe not these, who this opinion hold, Goe hang themselves before that they are old? Or in their Gardens, TIMON like, erect Faire Gibbets for the Schollers of their Sect? What tends their life unto? why should not they Refuse to eate and drinke; and, wisely, say, "God, for our end, a certaine day hath set, "Which we shall reach, although we taste no meat. Why doe they shun a danger in the street, Since they shall live their time, what e're they meet? If they to any place, desire to goe, Why trouble they their feet to helpe thereto? Since they are sure, that if decreed it were They should come thither, they their paines may spare? If thus I should have said, some men would deeme me To be more bitter then did well beseeme me: For, I confesse that on the quick they grated, Who in this manner have expostulated. And I forbeare it. Yet, this generation Hath some who need this tart expostulation; With whom loud noises more prevaile by far, Then doe those proofes, that Faiths and Reasons are.

I know to these Objections, most replies; I know their strength, and where their weaknesse lies; I know what holy Scriptures, men mistake, Which proofes of their assertions seeme to make: I know, how they their Arguments mis-lay, From that of Esau, and the Potters clay: I know what Times and Termes they misconceive, And wherewithall themselves they doe deceive. I know with what nick-names of heresie, Some Readers will for this my Muse belye; And that nor they, who call'd Armini••ns be, Nor they who reprehend them, will with me Be friends for this; for neither those nor these Am I desirous to offend or please. But to uphold the Truth, which is bely'd▪ Injuriously by most of either side. I know their spight, their vineger, their gall; I know what spirit most are led withall Who spread the Doctrines which I have reproved, And know such Reason nev••r to be moved, With favour to them that I dare to say, It is the nearest and the straightest way To all prophanenesse. It the b••idle gives To ••arnall liberties, and makes the lives And hearts of many men so voyd of care: From hence distractions; hence despairings are. Hence mischiefes; hence selfe murthers doe arise; Hence is it that such multitudes despise Good discipline: yea, this contemned makes The life of Fai••h, if once it rooting takes: Disableth pious practices outright▪ And where it roots, destroyes Religion quite. Let no man then admit into his thought, That God Almighty hath decreed ought

Which on his Iustice may infringement bring, Or on his Mercy in the smallest thing: Or that his Wisedome any thing ordaines Without the meanes which thereunto pertaines: Or thinke, because our sinne he doth permit That therefore he necessitateth it: Or that he wills those errours he foresees, As he the workes of righteousnesse decrees: Or, that our humane actions cyphe••s are: Or, that within this world there ever were Or shall, those persons be, whom God will call Vnto account, untill he giue them shall, At least, one Talent, which may serue vnto The working of that worke he bids them doe. Let no man dreame these dreames; nor censure this, Till he hath well consider'd what that is Which I deliuer. For in this darke way, Our learnedst Clerkes doe sometimes runne astray. Nor let them thinke that I concurre with all, Who in appearance hold this Tenet shall: Or that I differ from all men that may In termes dissent from what I seeme to say. For they that in expression disagree In one well-meaning, oft united be. And either (if that they in loue contend) Shall then at length, obtaine their wished end. Oh! labour this, all you that would be thought GODS glo••y in your studies to haue sought; That though offences come, they may not moue Disunion; but Gods worthy ones approve. And let us with a true sobriety, So heed his Actions of eternitie, That we may see in them a boundlesnesse, Beyond our humane wisdome to expresse;

Leave quarrelling about his waies unknowne, And take more heed here after to our owne. For, though God pleaseth, other while, to use Our vulgar Termes, some notions to infuse Of his eternall workings, and apply His deeds that way, to our capacity, Disclosing them unto us one by one, As if at severall times they had beene done, (Be••ause our shallownesse no meanes can find To entertaine them in their proper kinde) And though (respecting us who temp'ral be) Wee say, that God Almighty doth fores••e, Foreknow us, and pr••destinate; yet sure, His Essence no such termes can well endure In proper sense; Because with him, no doome, Word, Thought, or Act, is passed, or to come. But all things present. Yea, all Times, and all Those things which wee by severall names doe call, Our Birth••, our Lives, our Deaths, and our Saluations, Our free-el••ctions, and pr••d••stinations, Are all at once with God, without foreseeing; Eu'n all in one-eternall-present-being. Which few observing, many men have thought That Gods et••rnall actions should be wrought Like ours in Time, which is, as if they should Endeavour how the world they might enfold Within a Nut-shell. And while thus men strive (According to their fancies) to contrive An order in Gods Workings, they mistake them Blasphemously, and orderlesse doe make them. Yea, to define his actions, they neglect That part which is their duty to effect; Themselves and others losing in a path Which neither profit, end, nor safety hath;

And, by disputing what from us is hidden, Disturb the doing that which God hath bidden: I have digrest enough; and some there are Who think, perhaps, that I have gone too farre. Yet, let it not be judg'd impertinent, That I have so pursu'd this Argument. For, want of minding what is here rehearsed, Hath often times the Pestilence dispersed. Yea, some who fondly said, that ev'ry man Shall live his time decreed, do what he can; And that each one at his fixt houre shall dye, 'Gainst which he seeks in vaine, a remedy: Ev'n these, made much good means of health neglected▪ Much wise and wholsome counsell be rejected; And caused, oft, in this our common wo, That Death was brought and caried, to and fro. But, lest in chasing them, I run astray; Ile prosecute againe my purpos'd way. The Pestilence doth show her selfe inclin'd So variously, she cannot be defin'd. She neither certaine forme, nor habit wears, But, partly metaphysicall appears, And partly naturall. She oft may cary Her Progresse on, by meanes that's ordinary; But, rarely doth begin, or end her Arrant, Save by an extraordinary Warrant. It doth infect, and it infecteth not. It is an arrow which is often shot By Gods owne hand, from his far-striking bow▪ Without the help of any meanes below. It is Gods Angel, which to death can smite, Miraculously, an army in a night. It is a rationall Disease, which can Pick, with discretion, here and there a man;

And passe o're those, who either marked are For Mercy; or, a greater Plague to beare. We see, it suting hath to Natures lawes, A nat'rall motion, and a nat'rall cause; For, as a Fire among great Buildings throwne, Burnes ••imber, melteth Metall, cracketh Stone, Defaceth Statues, makes moist places dry, The Vaults below to sweat, the tyles to flye And manifests his force, in sev'rall kindes, According to the objects which he findes: So, hath the Pestilence a nat'rall pow'r To ha••den, fright, end••nger, or devou••e, (And divers other changes to procu••e) As she doth find a sev'rall temp'rature In mind or body, fitting the rejection. Or for the entertainment of Infection. These things consider'd. They who shall desire To scape from this Contagion, must acquire A double Ward▪ For, doubtlesse, there is none That can resist it with one guard alone. In times of Danger, vainly we presume Vpon our Iv'••y boxes of Perfume. To little purpose, we defend our noses, With Wormwood, Rue, or with our Radeliffe Posies Of tarred Ropes. Small warrant for our lives, Are all such bodily Preservatives, As Cordiall waters, Gums, Herbes, Plants, and Rootes, Our simple or compounded Antidotes. Our Boezar-stone; our med'cines Chymicall; Or, that high-p••ized Iewell wherewithall, For horne of V••icorne, men cheated are: Or, those unhallowed Charmes, which many weare. For, these are far unable to withstand The vigour of his incorporeall hand,

Who strikes for sinne, unlesse to these wee adde A Plaister which of better things is made. Yea Nature failes, unlesse adjoyne wee doe, A med'cine metaphisicall thereto. Moreover, fruitlesly devout are they, And that they seeke to God they falsely say, Who wilfully neglect, or else contemne, That outward meanes, which Nature offers them, And God provides, to cure, or to prevent, The mischiefe of Diseases pestilent. For, since wee fram'd of soules and bodies are, God pleased is, that wee should have a care To both of them; and labour how to finde, What appertaines to either, in his kinde. He therefore, who desireth a defence Against this Arrow of the Pestilence; A compleat Armour must from God procure, And still be arm'd, his person to secure. He must put on the Helmet of Salvation, And shoe his feet with holy Preparation. A Bel•• of Truth must for his loines be sought; His Brest-plate must of Righteousnesse be wrought. The Shield of Faith, his Target must become, The darts of Sathan to secure him from. Gods Word must be the Sword upon his thigh, His Praiers, like continuall shot must flie; And he should keepe for ever his abode, Within the shadow of Almighty God. Or else the Workeman looseth all his paine; And he that watcheth, wake••h but in vaine. He also must expell out of the soule, That filthinesse of sinne, which makes it foule. He must avoid the crimes he lived in; His Physi••ke must be Rue (ev'n Rue for sinne)

Of Herb of Grace, a Cordiall he must make; The bitter Cup of true Repentance take; The Diet of Sobriety assume; His House with workes of Charitie perfume; And watch, that from his heart in secrecie, Arise no savours of Hypocrisie. He must beleeve, God so doth love him, that His everlasting good, is aimed at In all he suffers; and, that, God doth know, And marke his nature, and his temper so, As that he will impose nor more, nor lesse, Than shall be needfull for his happinesse. For, such a Faith, will keepe h••m still content, Still lowly, under ev'ry cha••tisement; Still thankfull, whatsoever doth befall; And Blessings make, of what we Plagues doe call. He must, moreover with a holy Feare, In all his Christian duties pe••severe; Still watchfull, and at no time daring ought Which may from God divert him in a thought: (So neere as possibly, the powre of man, So great a diligence endeavour can.) For, round about him are a thousand Feares, A thousand Dangers, and ten thousand Snares, And, as a Traveller, who for his Bridges, To passe deepe waters, having nought but ridges Of narrow Timbers, dares not cast his eye From off the Plancke, nor set his foot a wrie; ••ecause beneath him, he beholds a Streame, That runnes, and roares, and gapes to swallow him: So, he that must an hourely passage make, Through such like Plagues, as this whereof I speake, (And many dangers waiting on him hath, To catch him, if he slip his narrow Path)

Had need be carefull that he never stray, Nor swarve in any thing beside the way. Let, therefore, ev'ry man desire, at least▪ This pow'r; that his desirings may be blest, With such pe••formances as he shall need, Or, have his Will accepted for the Deed. And, let him to his Calling ever stand: For, whosoe're doth leave that place unmann'd Wherein God set him; ••orfeits that reward (And is d••prived of that Angell guard) Of which his Muse doth prophesie, who sayes, We shall pr••s••rved be in all our wayes. Far is it from my nature, to reprove With proud insultings, those whom feare did move To step aside: For, good and pious men Give way to nat'rall frailties now and then; And, we whom God emboldned now to stay, Hereafter, from lesse frights may run away. Yea, sure I am, that if it doe not flow From Love, and Pity, that their s••apes we show, God may, and will (our folly to deride) Make them dare stand, where we shall seare to bide. And therefore, hoping none amisse will take What I have writ for truth and con••••ience sake; (That men in times to come might looke into This duty, and be heedfull what they doe) I will affirme, th••t ev'ry one hath erred, Who in his lawfull Calling, was deterred So much, as in ••his danger to forsake it: And, though a trifling matter many make it, I know, the most apparant showes of terror Are not excuse enough for such an error. For, that we should not in such cases dread The greatest perils: God hath promised,

That if we keepe ou•• wayes, and him obse••ve, He will not onely, from this Plague preserve; But, cause us w••thout ha••me to walke among, Ev'n Adders, Drago••s, Lyons old and yong: By which pernicious creatures, and untamed, Is ev'••y danger meant ••hat can be named. These things we must obse••ve, if we will hope Gods extraordinary blow to stop; And other circumstances must attend Those meanes. But, they so nat'rally depend On what precedes; that in well doing one, VVe cannot leave the other part undone. Such were those holy med'cines, which prevented The Plague, at Niniveh, when she repented; Such Isr'el used, and it saved them; Such kept the Plague out of Ierusalem; And when the bloody Angell came, had pow'r To stop him in Araunab's threshing floore. Thus Hezekiah was preserv'd; thus David Was from the very same contagion saved: And if unfainedly we pra••tise thus, He doth of safety also warrant us. Yea (through this meanes) we shall be fortifi'd VVith such a coat of proofe, as will abide That murth'ring Arrow which in darkn••sse flyes, From God•• owne Bow, unseene of mortall eyes. And when we thus have done, attempt we may To stop the Shaft, that flyes abroad by day; I meane the nat'rall Sicknesse, whi••h doth smite By meanes, that is appar••nt to the sight. For, as God striketh, oft, immediate blowes By some immediate way: right so he showes A nat'rall cure to those, whom he doth please To warrant from the naturall Diseas••▪

Thus, he for Hezekiah's health revealed That Plaister, wherewithall his griefe was healed, Thus from this Plague have many beene secured, And many saved, who the stroke endured. Here I could shew, what Med••cines may be tooke To cure or to prevent the outward stroke; To qualifie the Aire, what might be used; What Diet should be taken, what refused; What Symptomes doe attend on this disease; What good, or ill, from Labour, or from Ease Too much, or over-little, may be got: But, to proceed in this presume I not, For, to prescribe externall med'cines, here To ev'ry man, too hard a taske it were; Since they must often chang'd and mixed, ••e, As we the sicknesse changeable doe see, And as we finde the measure of infection, The parties Age, his Temper, or Complection. To those I the••efore will commit this part, Who are allow'd professors of that Art; Advising all, that none their aid refuse, Nor out of season, their assistance use. For, if, before our peace with God be made, We (seeking outward meanes) a cure have had; That meanes shall be the meanes our death to ••et: That cure shall onely cure us, to beget Another Plague: unlesse we have repented Our solly, and the mis••hiefe, so, prevented. Yea such, as take that course, doe sugar o're Strong poy••ons, and skin up a festring sore; Because those med'cines, and that watchfuln••sse (From which they did expect a good succes••e) Not being with repentance sanctifi'd, Nor (in their place) with faithfulnesse apply'd,

Corruptd grow; make what was evill, worse; And (in the stead of blessings) bring a curse. This Reason proves, For, since it is from Sin Whence all our griefes, and sicknesses have bin: We shall as vainly strive th'effects to stay, Till we the Causes first remove away, As if we went about to draine a River, Before to stop the Springs we did endeavor. And, as we neither should o're much r••ly On outward helpes; nor take disorderly The meanes of Health; ••ight so, beware we must That we doe never use it with distrust. For as, in seeking safety, most men use Preposterous courses (whence much harme ensues) Or else (when likely med'••ines they have got) Presume so farre, on what availe••h not, Without Gods blessing; that, from him they take His due, and of his Creatures, Idols make: So, some there be so fearfull, that their Feare Corrupts their blood, where no infections were; Begets that Plague within them which they shun; And makes it follow, when they from it run. No place, or counsell can of rest ••ss••re them; No meanes their hope of safety can procure them: But still they are distemper'd; ever taking New courses, and new Med'cines alwayes making. Of all they meet (if any meet they dare) For some Receipt, their fi••st enquiries are. What e're he be that tells them, that, or this Prevents the Plague; it straightwayes practis'd is. They swallow downe hot Wa••••rs, Sirrups, Drinks, Choake up their Chambers wit•• Perfumes, & Stinks; With Rue, and Wormwood cram their bowels up, With Phisicke breake their fa••ts, and dine, and su••:

Yet, still d••spaire, as if that world of sluffe (Which they devoured) were not halfe enough. And, this their terror, doth to me appeare, A greater Plague, then that which they doe feare. Mistake me not; I doe not here condemne The christian, and the filiall feare of them, That are (with holy dread) employ'd about Such meanes, as wo••keth true salvation out. Nor blame it, when a moderate feare doth make Alarums in us, Reason to awake. For, while our Feare preserves a moderation, It is a very necessary passion, And stands for Centinell, to bid us Arme, When any Foe doth seeme to menace harme. Nor doe I checke that nat'rall Feare, which from The knowledge of our weaknesses doth come: For, want of that, is meere stupidity; And such, can neither feele a Misery, Nor ta••te Gods Mercies, with more profit, than The brutish Creatures wanting Reason, can; Who, of their paines, or pleasures, nought retaine Much longer, then it doth in act remaine. I count not each man valiant, who dares die, Or venture on a Mischiefe desperately, When, either heat of Youth, or Wine, or Passion Shall whet him on, before consideration: For, thus a Beast will doe, and hath (no doubt) As much foresight in what he goes about; As those blinde Bayards, who couragious be In perills, whose events they doe not see. Nor will I any man a Coward call, Although I see him tremble, and looke pale In dangerous attempts▪ unlesse he slacke His just Resolves, by basely stepping backe.

For, as the greater part of men w•• find To laugh and blush, by nature, much enclin'd: So, many have a nat'rall inclination, To trembling, palenesse, or some other passion, Which, no Philosophy can take away, Nor any humane wit, or strength, allay: And if their Apprehension proveth better Then other Mens; their Passions are the greater▪ Because their searching wits finde pe••ills out, Whereof the Dullard (never having doubt) Hath boldly ventur'd on them, and out-dar'd, Wh••t being heede••, him to death had scar'd. Give me the Man, that with a quaking arme VValkes with a stedfast mind through greatest harm; And though his flesh doth tremble, makes it stand To execute what Reason doth command. Give me the Soule, that knowingly descries All dangers, and all possibilities Of outward p••rills; and yet doth persever In ev'ry lawfull action, howsoever. Give me that Heart, which in it selfe doth warre VVith many frailties (who li••e Traytors are In some besieged Fort) and hath to doe VVith outward Foes, and inward Terrors too; Yet of himselfe, and them, a conquest makes, And still proceeds in what he undertakes. For, this is double-valour; and such men (Althoug•• they are mis-censur'd now, and then) Enjoy those mindes that best composed are; In lawfull quarrells are without compare; And (when the Coward, hoodwink'd goes to fight) Dare cha••ge their sternest Foes with open sight. Let no Man therefore glory, or make boast Of Courage, when they feele their Dread is lost,

Or thinke themseles the safer, when they finde Their Feare is gone, whilst Perill slayes behinde; Especially, when they besieg'd appeare, With such like Pl••gues, as this, we treat of here. For that endangers, rather then secureth; Since Custome, or else Ignorance procu••eth That bru••ish ••earlesnesse: And, where we see Such hardinesse, Gods judgements fruitlesse be. There is required, yet, one Caveat more To perfect that, which hath beene said before; Ev'n this; that we grow watchfull, lest the while We trust in God, we doe our selves beguile With fruitlesse confidence, and on his grace (Beyond his warrant) our assurance place. For, many thousands wondrous forward are In Gods large promises to claime a ••hare; Who, those conditions never mused on, Which he doth ground his Covenant upon. And as the Iewes (from whom they take example) Bragg'd of their outward worship, and their Temple, As if Gods League extended unto all, Who could themselves, the sonnes of Iacob, call, Without respecting their partic'lar Way: So, we have some among us, that will say, They trust in God, and that, in this infection, They full assurance have of his protection: Because they formally his Truth professe; Performe externall workes of Holinesse; Or visibly, with such, partakers are, With whom the Pledges of Gods love appeare. But, they that on these ou••ward workes rely, Without true faith, and true sincerity; Commit those guilded sinnes, whose glosse will weare, And leave their na••urall corruptions bare:

Yea they, of their professions, idols make; And, will the Covenant of God ••istake, Vntill in his conveyances, they see What duties, on their par••s, required be. God promis••th (indeed) all such to save, Who in his holy Church their dwelling have; And th••t he will vouchsafe them his de••ence From dangers of the noysome Pestilence: But they must love him, and inuoke him, then, Or else the Bargaine is unmade agen. Thus much inferres the Psalmist, in that Ode, Which p••ophecies the saving Grace of God. Those, therefore, too too much on them assume, Yea, (foolishly) of mercy they presume, Who boast of Gods protection, and yet tread Those paths, which to a sure destruction lead. I doe not meane, when any man mis••does Through frailty, or unwillingly mis-goes: But when, with liking, and without remorse, He wilfully pursues a wicked Course. For, such, their confidence on God, bely, Depending on their owne security; And cannot see those dangers they are in, Because ••heir Consciences have seared bin. How many thousands in the Grave are laid, Who, in their life-times, impudently said They should be safe in God? yet never tooke His counsell, nor one vanity forsooke For love of him? How many have I heard Presumptuously affirme, they never fear'd The danger of Gods Arrowes? though they flew At n••one, at midnight, and so many slew In ev'ry street? yea, shamelesly professe Their trust in God, to cause their fearlesnesse,

Yet, nothing for the love of him ••ndevour? How boldly have I seene them to pe••sever In ev'ry ••in, when Gods fierce Angell stood, Ev'n just before them, all embru'd in blood; And slaught'ring r••ūd about thē neighbors, brothers Their friends▪ their kinsmē, children, fathers, mothers, And some of ev'ry sort? Nay, I have heard Of such, who were not any jot afear'd To ba••gaine for their Lust, in times to come, VVithin the compasse of the selfe-same roome, VVhere (at that instant) they beheld their wives Lye newly dead; or lab'ring for their lives. They waste Gods Creatures in luxurious diet; Consume their times in wantonnesse, and riot; They feasts, and merriments, in Tavernes keepe, VVhilst others in the Temples, fast, and weepe; Th••y p••rsecute their brethren, and the poore; Pe••forme no good; forbeare no sin the more; And live so carelesly, as if they thought, That, when the greatest wickednesse they wrought, It prov'd, their trust in God to be the greater; And, that lewd works, shew'd forth their faith the bet∣ter; Or else that God the more obligement had, Because he was so good, and they so bad▪ Ev'n such there are. And these make boastings will, Of ••rust in God, yet such continue still. Alas, it is but vaine to say Lord, Lord, Or to professe a confidence in word, Where lively Faith appeares not: for, God granteth Protections unto none, but whom he planteth Within his Vineyard; wherein growes no tree, But in some measure, it will fruitfull be; Or ••lse, a storme shall come, which down will shake it, With whatsoever, carnall props, we s••ake it.

No high-presuming Cedars, nor stiffe Oakes, Are those whom God exempteth from the strokes Of his tempestuous wrath: but, that which bendeth To ev'ry blast, which he in Iudgement sendeth, As doth a bruised, or low-stooping Reed, Which, by the bowing, is from breaking free'd. Yea those, who really within the shade Of his defence, have their abidings made; Those onely, may depend on his protection, Amid the ragings of this hot Infection. And who are these, but such, as (when they see The threa••ned Plague) afraid, and humbled be? Such, as through hearty love, ashamed grow, That they so good a God displeased so: Such, as are sory for their passed crimes, And truly purpose, in all future times A better life: Such, who, for conscience sake (And not through servile feare) themselves betake To pious exercises: such, who strive To mortifie their lusts, and how to live As worthy their free-calling: such, as they, Who ev'ry houre, doe labour, watch, and pray▪ Their duties to performe; and dare not peepe Abroad at morning, or at ev'ning sleepe, Till they the sacrifice of thankes have paid, For favours past; and begg'd for future aid. Such, as on Gods owne pleasure can rely, And, in his Faith resolved are to dye. Such, as have Charity; and working are Their safeties with continuall joy, and fear••▪ Ev'n such as these, securely may repose When twenty thousand dangers them enclose. On these, Gods Angells wait▪ and these they shall From stumbling keepe, when many Millions fall▪

From ev'ry kinde of harme they shall be free, And sleepe, where feares, and mischiefes thickest be: Yea, though that seize them, which the Plague we cal, It shall to them become no Plague at all; But rather be their furth'rance, to acquire That perfect happinesse, which they desire. Let no man, therefore, in this Visitation Tye God unto the temp'rall preservation; Or be discouraged, if he shall please To exercise him under this Disease, Supposing, he inflicteth it on none (As some fooles thinke) but Reprobates alone. For he did Hezekiah thereby strike▪ He, by th••s Malady, or some such like, Afflicted holy David, his Elected; Whose Reprobation is of none suspected. And though just men from temporall infection Shall finde more certainty of Gods protection, Then others doe: yet sure, that Pestilence (From which God promis'd absolute defence) Is not that sicknesse which the body slayes; But that, which death unto the soule conveyes. Our ••••rthly griefes, to heav'nly joyes doe rear••, And why should any Man or grudge or feare A mortall wound, so he might gaine thereby A body cloth'd with immortalitie? Or why should we repine, in missing that, Which (to our dammage) we had aymed at; When God doth give us more then we desired; ••nd lifts us higher, then our hopes aspired? To him due praises, rather, let us give, Whose love to us, is better, then to live. But, I have said enough to this effect, And if, what I have spoken, have re••pec••,

We shall (I hope) hereafter well dis••erne, What, by this Iudgement, we are bound to learne▪ How much to trust; how much to hope, or feare; What outward meanes, or inward helpes there are, VVhereby, this heavy Plague may be prevented▪ Or entertained, with a brest contented. So few (as yet) have thus prepared bin, That now of late it quickly rushed in In spite of all our Halberds, and our Watches. And as a Flame (which in a Tempest, catches On some full Barne) is blowne about the Village, And fi••eth, here, the hopefull fruits of Tillage; A Cottage there; on th'other side the way A well-••ill'd Stable, or a Rick•• of Hay; Another yo••; close by, doth menace harme Ev'n to the Church; forthwith consume •• Farme; Some dwellings (now, and then) doth overgoe▪ Anon la••es waste a dozen in a row; And still increase, goe forward, and returne, Vntill the Towne in ev'ry quarter burne: So rag'd the Pestilence. And, as we see Those wo••kmen, who, repai••ing breaches b•• In Thame, or Trent, at first the Banks doe raise▪ Shut clos•• the Sluce••, strengthen up the Bay's, And l••bour seriously with much good hope, VVhile they perceive but some few gaps to stop: But, when they see the Flood prevailing more, (Ten breaches made, for ••v'ry one before) And all endeavors faile; they worke forsake, Leaving the waters their owne cours•• to take: So, when this Floud began▪ we had •• thought To keepe it backe; and to that purpose w••ought: But, when we saw it rise beyond our pow'r, VVe gave it way at pleasure to devoure.

At first, the publique Officers did show Their skill in curbing this encroaching Foe, Not sparing to be prodigall of paine, The spreadings of Infection to restraine; And ev'ry private family beside, Against this danger did for armes provide▪ Their Yards, and Halls, were smoked with perfume, To stop the stinkes, which thither might presume. Their Chambers furnisht were with Antidotes, With Viols, Boxes, Glasses, Gallipots, All filled with munition of defence (As they suppos'd) against the Pestilence. Some did in Meats their meanes of safety thinke; Some Epicures did arme themselves with Drinke; Some, foolishly did build up monstrous hope•• Vpon the smoking of Tobacco shops; (But this disease, without a Conscience making Of their presuming on Tobacco taking, Came thither too, and frequently did cary Good-fellowes from their smoaking Sanctuary.) Some, one, and some another course devised▪ Yet, ev'ry day more places were surprised. Which, when we saw, and how it overcast All temp'rall force; we thought upon (at last) The helpe of God: and then we did repaire To crave his ayd in Fasting, and in Prayer, Then some, through servile terror; some, for fashio••, And some, out of a true humiliation, Emplored ayd from heav'n; and show'd in teare•• Their Hope, their true Repentance, and their Feares: But, whether God did for a while contemn•• Ou•• suit, because we gave not eare to him, When first he call'd: or, whether he thought fit, (That we the longer might remember it)

To fright us somewhat more: or whether we Brought not such hearty penitence, as he Expected from us: or appointed were Some further tryalls of our Faith to beare: Sure, some such cause there was; and for that cause, God did not onely seeme to make a pause In answ'ring our Petition; but, to chide More sharply, and to throw it quite aside. For with a doubled, and redoubled stroke The Plague went on; and, in (among us) broke With such unequall'd fury, and such rage; As Brittan never felt in any age. With some at ev'ry turning she did meet. Of ev'ry Alley, ev'ry Lane and Street She got possession: and we had no way, Or passage, but she there, in Ambush, lay. Through Nookes, & Corners, she pursu'd the Chase, There was no barring her from any place: For in the publique Fields in wait she laid; And into private Gardens was convaid. Sometime, she did among our Garments hide; And, so, disperse among us (unespy'd) Her st••ong Infections. Otherwhile (unseene) A Servant, Friend, or Child betraid hath beene, To bring it home; and men were fearfull growne To tarie, or converse, among their owne. Friends fled each other▪ Kinsmen stood aloofe▪ The Sonne, to come withi•• his F••thers roofe Presumed not; the Mother was constrain'd To let her child depart unentertain'd. The love, betwixt the husband, and the wife, Was oft neglected, for the love of life; And many a ••ne their promise falsifi'd, Who vow'd, that nought but death should thē divide.

Some, to frequent the Markets were afraid; And some to feed on what was thence purvay'd. For on young pigs such purple spots were s••ene, As markes of De••th on Plague-sicke men have been▪ And it appeared that our suburbe-Hogs Were little better, then our Cats, and Dogs▪ Men knew not, whither they might safely come, Nor where to make appointments, nor with whom. Nay, many shunn'd G••ds-house, and much did feare So farre to trust him, as to meet him there. In briefe, the Plague did such distruction threat, And Feares, and Perils were become so great, That most mens hearts did faile; and they to flight B••••ooke themselves, with all the speed they might: Not onely they, who private persons were, But, such as did the publique Titles beare. The Maior startled, and some say was gone: But, when his Charge he truly thought upon, It settled him; and he at Helme did 'bide Vntill his roome was orderly supply'd. And (let me doe him right) it since appeared, That, with go••d Diligence his Course he steered. For, on hi•• backe were many burthens laid; The Count••y of provisions us denay'd; The greater part with sicknesse waxed froward; Much want did make the poorer sort untoward; That when I call to minde his heavy taske, And little helpe; me thinkes it praise doth aske. Most of his gowned-Brethren him forsooke, And to their Country Bow'rs themselves be••ooke; Where, how they pray'd, or what they sent by gift, To feed the Poore; I leave it to the shr••ft Of their owne consciences; which best can tell, What things they have performed ill, or well.

Physitians were afraid, as well as these, And neither Galen, nor Hippocrates Could yeeld them any warrant for delay; And therefore (with the first) they went away. Some Leaches of the Soule, (who should have staid) Were much (nay somewhat over-much) afraid, And had forgotten so, how to apply Thei•• heav'nly Cordi••ls of Divinty, Against the feare of ••eath; that when most dangers Beset their Flocks; they left ••hem unto strangers. Nay▪ some there were, who did among us teach, That Men should flie; & that, which they did preach, They taught the people by example too. Pray God, in oth••r things th••y may do so. Few staid, of any calling or degree, VVho to their Country-••riends might welcome be; Or, of themselves were able to provide A place of Harbour, where they might abide. Yea some, (to scape uncertaine Death) did flie Into the Iawes of certaine Beggery, By leaving of their Callings; and are flowne So far, and high a flight out of this Towne, On borrow'd-feathers; that their Neighbour•• feare, They never more will in their shops appeare. Those of our wanton Gentry, that could brooke No Ayre, but Londons; London quite forsooke; And all that Crew of Spend-thrifts, whom (untill This Pl••gue did fright them) nor Star-Chamber Bill, Nor strictest Proclamation, could compell Vpon their owne Inheritance to dwell; Were now, among their racked Tenants faine To seeke for shelter; and to ayre againe Th••se mu•••••• Roomes, which ••heir more thrifty Sire•• Kept warme and sweet with hospitable Fires.

God grant, that where they come, they may do good, Among their Tenants, by their neighbourhood. Of some we hopefull are, they will be such; And of some others we doe feare as much, That by their presence they will plague them more, Then by their willing absence heretofore. In many a mile you scarce could find a Shed, Or Hovell, but it was inhabited, (Sometime with double Families) and Stalls And Barnes were trimmed up in stead of Halls. Those Burgesses, that walk'd in Gownes, and Furs, Had got them coats, and swords, and boots, & spurs; And, till you saw them ride, you would have sworne, That, they, for horsemen, might have serv'd the turn. Those Dames, who (out of daintinesse, and Pride) The rusticke plainnesse did (erewhile) deride, (And, at a better lodging, Fob, would cry) Beneath a homely roofe were glad to lye; And fawne on ev'ry Child, and ev'ry Groome, That, so they might the welcomer become. Those, who in all their life-time never went So far, as is the nearest part of Kent: Those, who did never travell, till of late, Halfe way to Pancridge from the City gate: Those, who might thinke, the Sun did rise at Bow, And set at Acton, for ought they did know: And dreame, young Partridge sucke not, but are sed As Lambes, and Rabbets, which of eggs are bred: Ev'n some of these have journeyes ventur'd on Five miles by Land (as farre as Edmunton.) Some hazarded themselves from Lyon-K••y Almost as far as Erith downe by Sea: Some row'd against the streame, and stragled out A•• far as H••un••low-heath, or thereabout:

Some climbed High-gate-hill, and there they ••ee The world so large, that they amazed be; Yea some are gone so farre, that they doe kno•• Ere this, how Wheat is made, and Malt doth grow. Oh, how they trudg'd, and busled up and downe, To get themselves a furlong out of towne. And how they were becumbred, to provide, That had about a m••le or two to ride. But when whole housholds further off were sent, You would have thought the Master of it, meant To furnish forth some Navy, and that he Had got his neighbours venturers to be. For all the neare acquaintance thereabout, By lending somewhat holpe to set them out. What hiring was there of our hackney Iades? Wh••t scouring up of old, and rusty blades? What running to and fro was there to borrow A Safegard, or a Cl••••ke, untill the morrow? What shift made Iack for girths? what shift made Gil∣lian To get her neighbors footstoole, & her pillian, Which are not yet ••etu••n'd? How great a pother To furnish, and unfurnish one another In this great voyage did there then appeare? And what a time was that for Bankrupts here? Those who had thought (by night) to steale away, Did unsuspected shut up shop by day; And (if good lucke it in conclusion prove) Two dangers were escap'd at one Remove: Some hired Palfr••yes for a day, or twaine, But rode so far, they came not backe againe. Some dealed by their neighbours, as the Iewes At their departure did th' Aegyptians use: And some, (with what was of their owne, content) Tooke up their luggage, and away they went.

And had you heard how loud the Coaches rūbled; ••eheld how Carres, and Cart•• together jumbled; S••ene how the wayes with people ••hronged were; The Bands of Foot, the Troupes of Ho••semen there; What multitudes away by Land were sent; How many thousands fo••th by Water went; And how the weal••h of London thence was borne; You would have wondred; and (almost) have sworne The Citie had beene leaving her foundation, And seeking out another situation; Or, that some Enemy with dreadfull pow'r, Was comming to besiege, and to devoure. Oh; foolish people, though I justly might Authorize thus my Muse ••o mock your flight, And still to flout your foll••es: yet, compassion Shall end it in a kinde expostulat••on. Why with such childish terror did you try To run from him, from whom you cannot flye? Why left you so the place of your abode, Not hasting rather to goe meet your God With true repentance, who for ever hath A mercy for us in his greatest wrath? Why did you not your lawfull callings keepe? But straggle from you•• folds like wandring Sheepe▪ That had no Shepheard? And, oh, why, I pray▪ You Shepheards, have you caused them to stray? Your Neighbours why forsooke you in distresse? Why did you leave your brethren comfortlesse? When God did call for Mourning, why so fast Did you to seeke for mirth, and pleasures, hast? And take away from other, when you fled, What, in their need, should them have comforted? If Death be dreadfull, stay, and learne to die; For, Death affects to follow those that flie.

Had you not ••one, you might for ever after Have said, That Sorrow profits more then Laugh••er. You should have known that Death hath limits here, And loosed was, where he did bound appeare: That many were prese••ved in th•• flame, And many burnt, that came not nigh the same. Yea, some of you, be••ore from hence you went, Had, of these Truths, got some experiment. What ••olly then, or Frenzy you bewitches, To leave your houses, and goe dye in ditches? Forgoe the Comfort, which your Ci••ie yeelds, To venture for a lodging in the fields? Or (which is worse) to tràvell farre, and finde Those prove ungentle, whom you hoped, kinde? A Plague so bitter, That might Plagues be chuse•• I would be Plague-sicke, rather then so used. Did you suppose the Pestilence would spare None here, nor come to seaze on any there? All perish'd not, that did behinde you stay; Nor did you all escape, who fled away. For, God your passages had so beset, That Hee with many thousands of you me••. In Kent, and (all along) on Essex side A Troupe of c••uell Fevers did reside: And ro••nd about, on ev'ry other Coast, Of severall Country-Agues lay an hoa••t. And, most of them, who had this place forsooke, Were eyther slaine by them, or Pris'ners tooke. Sometime the Pestilence her selfe ••ad bin Before them in their Lodging, at their Inne; And hath arrested them upon the Bed, Brought many sicke away, and meny dead. Sometime (againe) she after them hath gone, And when (perchance) she was not thought upo••:

Among their friends, and in their merriment, Hath seiz'd them, to their greater discontent. She divers apprehended on the way, Who to so many mischiefes were a prey; That poorest beggers found more pitty here, And lesser griefe, then richer men had there. I doe not meane concerning that neglect, That barbarous, unmanly disrespect Their bodies had among the clownish crew, When from the tainted flesh the spirits flew. For, if their carcasses they did contemne, What harme, or what disease was that to them? What paine, or torment was it, if that they (Like carrion) in the fields, unburied lay? What felt they, being ••ragged like a Log, Or hurl'd into a Saw-pit like a Dog? What disadvantage could that Doctor have, Who (learnedly) was drawne into his grave By na••ed men? since those things doe disgrace The living rather, and doe wrong the place Th••t suffers, or allowes that barb'rousnesse To shame the Christian Faith, which they professe. Alas; my heart as little can bemone A mangled carcasse, as a broken stone▪ It is a living body, and the paines, Which I conceive a broken heart sustaines, That moveth me: their griefe, in life-time was, And, whilst they liv'd, their sorrowes did surpasse These fained ones, as Death, and loathed Care, By Life, and true Content, excelled are. Some, who forsooke faire houses, large, and high; Could scarcely get a Shed to keepe them dry; And such, who many bed••, and lodgings had, To lye on straw without the doores were glad.

Some over-tyr'd with wea••inesse, and he••t, Could not, for money, purchase drink, or meat; But cruelly of succour were deny'd, Till, through their faintnesse, they grew sick & dy'd. Some, who in London had beene waited on With many servants, we••e enclos'd alone In solitary places; where they m••ght Find leasure, to repent them of their flight. And, when they had supplyes at any need, The bringers did (like those that Lyons feed) Ev'n throw it at them; or else some where set it, Where (after their departures) they might fet it. And many a one (no helper to attend him) Was left to live, or dye, as God should friend him. Some, who unwisely did their homes forsake, That triall of the Country they might make; Have brought their lives to miserable ends Before they could arive among their friends. Some, having reach'd the places they desir'd, (With no meane difficulty, weake, and tyr'd) Have missed welcome, where they sought reliefe; And, strucken by unkindnesse, dy'd with Griefe▪ The sickly Wife, could no ••ssistance have To bring her Husbands body to the grave. But was compelled, with a grieved heart, To act the Parsons, and the Sextons part. And he, that wanted strength ••o beare away His mate, who dead within his presence lay; VVas faine to let the stinking body lye, Till he in death should beare him company. Ah me; what tongue can tell th•• many woes, The passions, and the many griefes of those? What m••rtall pen is able to expresse Th••ir great temptations in that lonelinesse?

What heart can thinke, how many a grieuous feare To those distressed people may appeare, Who are with such afflictions over-tak••n? Of ev'ry Cr••ature in the world forsaken? Without a Comforter left all alone, Where to themselves they must themselves bemone, Without a remedy? And where none may Or know, or pitty, what they ••eele, or say. Me thinkes to muse on those who suffer'd thus, Should bring to minde the mercy shewed us, And make our pennes and voyces to expresse The love of God, with hearty Thankfulnesse. For when no sor••owes of mine owne I had, The very thought of those hath made me sad. And were it not that God hath given me Some trya••ls of those Com••orting••, which Hee For men in their extremities provides, And from the knowledges of others hides: Or felt I not, how prevalent Gods pow'r Appeares in us, when there is none of our: What liberty hee giue's, when wee doe fall Within the compasse of an outward thrall: And what contentments He bestowes on them, Whom others doe neglect, or else contemne: Yea, had I not beleeued him who sayes, That God doth knowledge take of all our wayes; That He observes each rubb within our path, With ev'ry secret sorrow, which it hath; That he is neares•• then, when we bemone His absence, an•• suppose him furthest gone; And often in us dwels, when Those abroad (With most ins••lting) say; Where is their God? Had this beene hidden from me: I had here For ev'ry line I writ, dropt downe a teare;

And in a floud of sorrowes drench'd mine eyes, When first I mused on these miseries▪ But I have knowne them, to my great content▪ And felt so oft, w••at comforts God hath lent, When of all outward helpes we are dep••ived; That (could the same of all men be beleeved) It would be thought, true Pleasures w••re possessed Of none, but men forsaken, and distressed. How ever; though such mercy God bestowes, And brings men comfort in their greatest woes; Let none of us presume, (as some have done) Without our Circle, foolishly to runne; Nor leave our proper station, that we may Goe seeke our fortunes in an uncouth way. Conceive me right; I doe not here deny, Or call in doubt the lawfuln••sse, to flye: Nor am I of their counsell, who despise All such as fled: nor, judge I too precise Those, w••o the Person, or the Place avoid, Which is with any noysomnesse annoy'd. For, when the causes of remove, are just, We then may flye the Plague; nay, then we must; Since, those who will not, (in such cases) goe, Tempt God, and faile in what they ought ••o doe. If that a King, or Prince, should live within A City much infected, it were sin. For he (no doubt) hath some Vice-gerent there Who, in his absence, may supply his care: Or, if that Place were certaine of decay By his departure; yet he might not stay. The Reason is; there many thousands are O•• Townes, and Cities, that in him have share. Who, would conceive, it were unjustly done, That he should venter all their wealth in One.

And make great Kingdomes hazards to endure, The welfare of one City to procure. So, Counsellers of State, and he, whose Charge Extends throughout the Common wealth at large, VVith ev'ry other Magistrate beside, (Except his pow'r to s••me one place be ty'd) Must shun the Plague; because that such, as he, Sworne servants to the whole Weale-publique be. And since the safest Physicke and defence For Children, in the times of Pestilence, Is to remove them: they unwisely do, VVho, having wealth, and f••iends to send them to, Neglect the meanes, by being over nice; Or grudging at the charge, through avarice. Moreover they, whose calling seemes to lye VVithin two sev'rall places, equally, (Till some plaine causes hinder) may be fre•• To live where safety best appeares to be: Vnlesse their secret conscience doe gaine-say; And who can judge of that, but God, and They? Yea, Men, on divers good occasions mo, May from the places of Infection goe. For there be times of stay, and times of going, VVhich, ev'ry one (that is discreet) well knowing, Doth censure no partic'lar Man, at all: But calling unto mind, that blessed Paul VVas once ev'n in a basket forth convay'd From his Pursuers; yet no iotafraid (At other seasons) to continue there, VVhere bloody pe••secutions hottest were. And if my words have done my meaning right, My Muse denyes not, but alloweth flight: Provided alwayes, that Men doe not flie From Casuall Plagues, to Plagues with Certainty:

From those with whom the bands of Charity, Of Duty, Friendship, or Affinity, Or of their Calling, doth requi••e a stay. Provided also, when they part away, That as God blest them hath, they somewhat ••••nde, To comfort those, who must abide behinde; And, that they trust not to their Flight, as tho, That, of it selfe could save: but, ra••her know, And use it as the gracious meanes of him, Who saves; and, not as that which saved them. Let the•• consider likewise, that the Sin Was partly theirs, which did the Plague begin; And, in their absence (with a Christian feare) Make sute for those, who must the burthen beare, From which they scape: yea, let them all confesse Their sins with penitenc•• and humblenesse; Avoiding ev'ry pleasure, where they live, Which out of minde, their Brethrens cares may drive; Lest God pursue them whither they are fled; There ••eize upon them to their greater dread; Or from them take away all due correction, Which Plague were greater then this great Infe••tion. For, when his Iudgements, God, in wrath, removes, His Mercy, then, the greater Iudgement proves. There be, I know, some people gone away, Who mi••ding our afflictions, night and day, Have much bewayled our distressed case, And sent up earnest prayers fo•• this Place: For, of their Piety good fruits are seene, And, by their hands, the poore refresht have beene. These, from this Den of Slaughter, were (no doubt) By Gods especiall favour called out, Who, for their sakes, I hope, those townes will spare, To which, for sh••lter, they es••aped are,

As he did Zoar. And I wish they may Obtaine their lives, and safeties for a prey. But, there be some; (and would to God, that some Were but a little one) who parted from Our City walls, as if they had not gone With Vengeance at their heeles; or waited on By feares and dangers; but, so finifi'd, As if their meaning was, to shew their pride In Country Churches, for a weeke or twaine, Ride out like Co••kneies, and come home againe: The sorrowes of their brethren they forgot; In holy duties they delighted not: In drunken meetings they their leasure spent; In idle visits; foolish merriment: And, to their Country-friends they caried downe Those sinnes that are too common in this Towne. VVhich (if they practise there, as here we doe) VVill bring their wages, also, thither too. These giddy Runnawayes, are they that were Beginne••s of that great unmanly feare, VVhich did first author of disorder prove. These, caused that improvident Remove, VVhich did both wrong the welfare of the Citi••, Distract the Country, make it voyd of pitie; And, give occasion of those Tales which Fame Hath now dispersed, to our common shame. For, if their flight had timely beene provided, (VVith Conscience and Discretion truly guided) Th••i•• profit here at home had beene the greater, And▪ f••iends abroad, had entertain'd ••hem better. And, yet I take small pleasure to excuse T••ose Pesants, who so grosly did abuse T••eir Manhood and Religion, in denying T••e dues of Charity, to people dying.

For, though their folly might their fall deserve, Yet we our Christian pitie should preserve, Our brother in extremities releeving; Not adding sorrowes to encrease his grieving, Nor taking notice of his evill deed••, So much, as of that comfort which he needs: Till, he r••freshed by a friendly ••and, His errors, by our love, may understand. And, sure, there was a meanes to succour stranger•• In their distresse, and to escape the dangers Of that Infection, (which so much was feared) Had Vnderstand••ngs eye be••ne better cleared; And, that Selfe-love, and Avarice, removed, Which kept good path•• unseene, and unapproved. But, since that easie knowledge hath beene hid, By wilfull blindnesse, well enough I did, If, here, I (Satyrizing) should expresse The Countries folly, and fo••getfulness••. And yet, I will not write, to their disgraces, What of some Persons, and particular Places Hath rumor'd beene: lest I should spirt a blot So blacke, as that it would not be forgot In future Ages; but, make Times-to-come, Suspect, they had deny'd their Christendome. For, shou••d our Muse (who, if she list thereto, Cares not who frownes, or frets, at what we doe) Should she put on that straine of Bitternesse, With which their cruelty we could expresse: Should we in our description of their Feare, Cause all their Indiscretion to appeare: Should we illustrate here, the true Relation••, Of what hath past in many Corporations; What uproares in some Townes have raised beene, When Londoners, approaching them, were seene:

How master Maior was straightway flockt about; How they to Counsell went to keepe them out; How they their watches doubled, as if some Had brought them newes that Spinola would come: And what ridiculous actions past among them; Some few, perhaps, wold think th••t we did wrōg thē; And, they would subjects be of scorne, and laughter, For ••ll their evill willers, ever after. Or, should we tell what propable suspition Appear'd, sometime, of wisedome and discretion, In goodman Constable; when, in a standing, To wind-ward from the Rode (& there commanding Browne bills, and Halberts) he examined Such Travellers, as from the City fled: And (at the very lookes of them affrighted) Sent feeble women, weary and benighted, (Without or meat or drink) to try the field•• What Charity, their better nature yeelds. If this we told, it might goe hard▪ when we Should apprehended in their Watches, be. Or, should we shew, what polici••s did pleas•• The wisdome of some rustick Iustices; Describe that wondrous witty stratagem Which for a while was practised by them To starve the Plague; how Christianly they sought That no provisions hither might be brought; Should we produce their Orders, which of late Were put in u••e, and wisemen laughed at: Or, publish to the world what we have heard Of their demeanors, when they were afeard: How they were fool'd by some of them that fled: What course was taken to interre their dead: How▪ he who for that worke could hired be, Was f••r his labour, chained to a tree

A full month after: how, they forced some From their sweet wholsome houses forth to come; And (being sick and weake) to make their bed Within a palt••y new erected Shed, Compos'd of clods; which neere some Common-side Their charitable Worships did provide: Or, should I on some other matters touch VVhich I have heard; it would enlarge too much This booke: and some of those, perhaps, perplex, VVhom I desire to counsell, not to vex. But, I from aggravations will forbeare, And, those their oversights, at this time, spare. For, some (although most others did not so) Thei•• love and Christian piety did show, In counselling, in cherishing, in giving, And, in the wisest manner of releeving. Beside; I love the Count••y, as I pitie The sorrowes and afflictions of the Citie. And (since they both are guilty) being loth To side with either; I the faults of both Have shewed, so, that neither I abu••e. Now, they that like it may; the rest may chuse.

The third Canto.

The House of MOVRNING, which most ••eare, (And flye so much) is praised here. It showes that outward Ioyes and Care, Nor m••erly good, nor evill, are; But things indiff'rent; which the wise Nor over-praise, nor under-prize. The strife within our Authors brest About his stay, is next exprest. Then doth it orderly recite

What Reason argu'd for his flight: What Faith alleaged, to reprove The Motives urging his remove: What Armes for him, she did prepare, To bide the shock of Death, and Feare: What proofe she to his Conscience made, That, he a lawfull Calling had, In midst of this great Plague to tary, By Warrant-extraordinary: What, thereupon he did conclude: What Ioy, and Confidence ensu'd: How much this Favour he doth prise, Above Earths glorioust Vanities: How he his Time desires to spend: And so, this CANTO hath an end.

HOw childish is the World! and what a path Her Throng of braine-sick Lovers trodden hath! Like brutish herds they troupe along together, Both led, and leading on, they know not whither. Much hoping, where no ground of Hope appeares, Much fearing, where indeed, there are no feares. In those things pleased, which t••ue Mirth destroy: For that thing grieved which procureth Ioy: Most shunning, what might bring most gain unto thē; And seeking most, for what would most undoo them. How few are so cl••are-sighted, a•• to see What pleasures mi••gled with afflictions be? Or what conten••ments doe concealed lye▪ Behinde the seeming dangers which they flye? How few have, by experience, unde••stood That God hath sent their troubles for their good? How few consider, to what fearfull ends, The faire smooth way, of easefull Pleasure tends?

And, therefore, oh! how few adventure dare Where Mournings, rather then where Laughters are? Though God himselfe prefer the house of Griese, Before vaine Mirth; and Pleasures of this life Hath termed Thornes, that choke the heav'nly seed: Yet few of us have taken so much heed Of what the sacred Volume doth record, (And, flesh and blood) distrusteth so the word Of his fi••me Truth) that blindly we pursue Our owne vaine counsels, and his Tract ••schew. 'Tis therefore doubtfull, it would vaine appeare, If I should labour to discover here, How many secret pleasures I have seene While in the Ce••s o•• Mourning I have beene. And, what contentments God bestowed hath, When I have walkt the solitary path Of Disrespect; (ass••ulted by those feares, Which oft affront us in this Vale of tea••es) O•• what prevailing hopes I have possessed, When I, beyond all hope, have seem'd oppressed. For, vulgar men, doe such expressions hold To be but idle Paradoxes, told By those, who grown distemper'd, through some gri••f Vent melancholy passions, past beleefe. And as our Vpland Pesants, from the shores Beholding how the Sea swels, fomes, and rores, Iud••e foolishly, that ••v'ry Seaman raves, Who talkes of mirth and safety on the waves: So, they will fondly passe their doome on me, Who strangers to the Seas o•• Sorrow be. But, though the world allow not what I say, Yet, that the Love of God, proclaime I may; That, I may justifie him in his Word; That for mine owne availe I may reco••d

What I have seene: and that experience might Encrease my hopes, and hope put feare to flight, In future suffrings: here I testifie, (And Heav'n is witnesse, I affirme no lye) My soule did never feele more ravishment, Nor ever tasted of more true content, Then when my heart, nigh broke with secret paine, Hath borne as much as e're it could sustaine; And strugled with my passions, till it had Attained to be excellently sad. Yea, when I teares have powred out, where none Was witnesse of my griefe but God alone, He hath infused pleasures into me, Which seldome can in publike tast••d be. Such Griefe is Comforts Mother. And I mow Oft times with mirth, what I in teares did sow. Before my eyes were d••yed; I have had More cause of singing then of being sad. The Lampe in darkest places gives most light; And truest Ioyes arise from Sorrowes night. My Cares ar•• Blessed Thistl••s, unto me, W••ich wholesome are, although the•• bitter be: And though their leaves with prick•• be overgrowne▪ (Which paine me) yet their flowres are full of down, Wher••on my head lyes easie when I sleepe: And I am never saddest when I weepe. Yet, long it was before I could attaine This Mystery: Nor doth it appertaine To all. For, ev'n as Sarah had not leave Within her body Isack to conceive, (VVhich laughter signifies) untill in her Those customes ••ailed which in women are: So, in our soules, true Ioyes are not conceived, Till we by some afflictions ar•• bereaved

Of carnall appetites, and cease from su••h Vaine pleasures as affect us overmuch. To little purpose doe they looke for these Conc••ptions, who are evermore at ease. Such comforts are of those but rarely found, VVhose wheele of Fortune never runneth round▪ No soule can apprehend what maketh glad The grieved heart, but his that griefe hath had, And various interchanges: nor can he VVho knowes the joyes that in such sorrowes be As these I meane, a true contentment take In any merriment, this world can make: (No not in all her pleasures) if among Her sweets, there should be sharpnesse wanting long. For (being fearfull that his bodies rest The soules true peace might secretly molest) His mirth would make him dull: his being jolly (As worldlings are) would make him melancholy: And (if no other cause be thought upon) Would g••ieve, because the sense of griefe were gone. Whilst I have gallopt on in that Career, Which youth, in freedome, so affecteth here; And had the most delightfull blandishment, My youth could yeed me for my hearts content: When I in handsome robes have beene araid, (My Tailor, and my Mercer being paid) When daily I on change of dainties fed; Lodg'd, night by night, upon an easie bed, In lordly Chambers; and had therewithall Attendants forwarder then I to call, Who brought me all ••hings need••ull: when at hand▪ Hounds, Hawkes, and Horses were at my command: When chuse I did my walks, ••n hills, in vallies, In Grove••, neere Springs, or in sweet garden allies▪

Repo••ing either in a naturall shade, Or in neat A••bors, which by Art were made: When I m••ght have ••equir'd without deniall, The Lut••, the Organ, or deepe-sounding Viol••, To cheere my spirits; with what else beside Was pleasant: when my friends did this provide Without my cost or labour: Nay, when all Those pleasures I have shared, which be••all In praises, or kinde welcommings, among My dearest friends; my soule retain'd nor long Nor perfect rest, in those imperfect things: But, often droupt amid their promisings, Grew dull, and si••kly: and, contrariwise Hath pleased beene in want, ••and miseries. Fo••, when long time, ev'n all alone they laid me, Where ev'ry outward comfort was denayd me▪ To many cares and wants unknowne obtruded; From fellowship of all mankinde excluded; Expos'd to slandrous censures, and disgrace; Subjected to contempts, and usage base; With Tortures threatned, and what those attends; By Greatmen frown'd on; blamed of my Friends; In••ulted on by Foes; and almost brought To that for which their malice chi••fly sought: Ev'n then, my spirits mounted to their height, And my Contentment slew her highest flight. In those di••easings, I more joy received, Then can from all things mortall be conceived. In that contemn'd estate, so much was cleared My Reasons eye; and God so bright appeared To my dim-sighed Faith; that, lo, he turned My Griefes to Triumphs Yea, me thought, I scorned To labour for assistance from abroad, Or beg for any favour, but from God.

I fear'd not that which others thought I feared; Nor felt I paine, in that which sharpe appeared: But, had such inward quiet in my brest, Till outward ease made way to my unrest; That, all my Troubles seemed but a Toy. Yea, my Affliction so encreast my Ioy, That more I doubted losse of my content, By losing of my close imprisonment, Then ever I can feare the bodies thrall, Or any mischiefe which attend it shall. For, as if some Antipathy ••rose Betwixt the pleasures of the world, and those Enjoyed then; I found t••ue Ioyes begin To issue ou••, as they were entring i••. Ti••l others brought me hopes of my Release, I scarcely held it worth my hopefulnesse. I had no frighting dreame; no waking care: I tooke no thought for meat, nor what to weare; I sleighted frownes, and I despis'd the threat Of such as threatned, were they meane or great▪ I laught at dreadfull Rumors, and disdained Of any suffrings to have then complained, I valued not a jot the vulgar doome, Nor what men prat••d might of me b••come. I mind••d no such trifles, wherewith you, And I, and others, are oft busied now: But, being, as it were exiled, then, From living in the world, with other men, Twixt God, and mine owne Conscien••e, to and fro, My thoughts, in a quotidian walke, did go. With Contemplations, I was then inspired, Beseeming one that wholly was retyred. I thought, like him, that was to live al••••e; I did like him, that had to doe with none.

And, of all outward actions left the care Vnto the world, and those who lived there, Nor hath God onely pleased beene to show What comforts from a p••ivate griefe may flow, But, that a new experience might be taught me, He to the house of Publike-s••rrow brought me In this late Pestilence▪ And, there I saw Such inward joy commixt with outward awe; Things bitter with such sweetnesses allaid; Such pleasures, into sorrowes cup convaid; Such fi••me-assurance, in the greatest dangers; Such f••endlines, when others friends were strangers; Such f••eedome in restraint; such ••ase in paine; Such life in death, and ev'ry feare so vaine, (Which outwardly affrights) that Pleasures Court Would halfe be robbed of her large resort, (And stand lesse visited,) if men could see What profits in the Cels of Sorrow be. For, he that knew what wisdome there is had, Would say that mirth were foolish, laughter mad: That ••ase perpetu••ll bringeth endlesse paine: That carnall joy arives at hope in vaine: That, from all outw••rd perils ••o be free, M••y prove most per••llous▪ that, h••alth may be The d••adl'est sicknesse: that, our pleasures are But pit-f••ll••▪ our se••urity a snare; And, that sometimes those things to which we run, May bane us more, then those we s••eke ••o shun. I found it so. And, in my blamed slay, (Whilst others f••om the Plague made haste away) I gained some renewings of that ••es••▪ Whereof I h••d beene formerly possest. It forced foll••, further to depart: It brought Gods me••cies nearer to my heart:

Brave combats in my soule did then begin, Which I tooke courage from, and pleasure in. New trialls of my Frailty did befall; And, of Gods love, I had new p••oo••es withall. In all my discontentments, such con••ents, And of Gods wo••kings, such experiments Vouchsafed were; that crowned should I live, With all those glorious wreathes that King•• can g••ve, And had by them obtain'd each happin••sse, Which wo••ldlings in their greatnesse do•• possesse; I would not sell the comfort of my s••ay For that, and all which those imagine may. Nor doe I over-prise the same, altho, The ignoran••e of some will think I doe: For, it hath left within me, ever since, Of Gods firme love, so strong a confidence, That, whatsoever accidents betide, I hope to stand the better fortifi'd Whilst here I live: and that no time to come Can send me to a place, so perilsome, That I shall feare it, or, to undergoe The dreadfull'st perills man can fall into; If that my calling doe oblige me to it, Or God, in Iustice, m••ke me undergoe it. In other cases, I expect no mo••e, But, rather, lesse imboldning then be••ore. For, he that any dangerous taske assumes, Wi••hout good warrant, fo••lishly presum••s; Tempts God; and justly perisheth, unlesse The ve••le of Mercy hide his wilfulnesse. Yea, they who over desp'rately have dar'd Bold things at first; at last have basely fear'd, Re••enting their foole-hardinesse▪ in vaine, When hope was lost, of turning ba••k againe.

For, though from dang••r••, griefes, and miseries, Far greater comforts oftentimes arise, Then from prospe••ity (if we attend God•• pleasure, and accept what he doth send) Y••t, o•• themselves, nor paines, nor pleasures can Felicitate; nor is the wit of man So perfect, that precisely he doth know His owne just temper, or his nature so, As to appoint himselfe, what will be needing Of weale, or woe, (nought wanting, or exceeding) And therefore, as some man hath by affecting Ease, wealth, or temp'rall fame, (without respecting Gods pleasure) often perished by that Which his unbounded will ha••h reached at; So, they who shall that ••ase or wealth contemne (Which God by law••ull meanes doth offer them) And they, who shall unthankfully refuse, Of any outward ble••sing, meanes to use, (Through discontent, selfe trust, or wilfull pride) When they might honestly those meanes provide▪ Ev'n both of these are g••ilty of offence, Against the wise ete••nall Providence: And are in danger to be l••ft of God, In those misleading p••ths which th••y have trod. These things I mused; and in heart revolved A thousand more, before I was resolved To keepe in London, where m••n draw no breath But that which menaced the b••dies death. And, seeing▪ many have condemn'd the fact. As an unwar••antabl••, foolish act: Since, i•• may teach them to forbeare to give Their Verdict, till they Evidence receive: Since, thus to mention it, a m••ane•• may be, To build againe the like Resolves in me

When ••uture perill so requireth it; And when, perhaps, this minde, I may forget: Yea, since the manner of it, may, perchance, Deliver others from some ignorance, And help their Christian Res••lutions out, When they are thrall'd with carnall feare, or doubt: Ev'n for these causes, (and to glorifie The pow'r of God in this my victory) I will relate what Reason•• m••de me stay: What ••opes they were, which drove my feares away: And, with what circumstances, I obtained That knowledg, which my shaking Faith maintained. When I perceiv'd the PESTILENCE to rage In ev'ry street, nor sparing sex, nor age; How from their City-hive, like Bees in May, The fearfull Citizens did swarme away: How fast our Gentry hasted to be gone: How often I was urg'd and call'd upon, To beare them company: what safeties were By absence promist; what great terrors here My death did m••nace: how, by timely flight I might behold my Country with delight: How nothing could be gotten by ••y stay, But wants, and new afflictions ev'ry day: With such like disadvantages, which brought, A hundred other musings to my t••oug••t. They made it seeme, a while, well wor••h reproving, To stay, a minute, longer from removing▪ But, then my Conscience also did begin To draw such pow'rfull Moti••es, from within▪ And, to propose before my understanding Such Reasons, my departure countermanding, As made me stagger, and new doubts to make, What course it best behoved me to take.

At first, I thought by counsell from the Wise, To build up my Resolves, and to advise By their opinions what I ••hould pursue; But, of the gravest I perceiv'd so few Who could advise them••elves; that I grew more Divided by their counsels, then before. I saw such foolishnesse, and such distractions, Appeare among them in their words and actions; That I perceiv'd they had enough to doe, Their owne particulars to looke unto. Then, guided by example would I be; But, that I quickly found no Rule ••or me; For, they who in opinion do consent, Oft differ, in ••he active President. And some, who have a tongue the truth to say, Have wanted grace to walke the safest way. Beside, mens actions, which indiffe••ent are, May foolish, wise, or bad, or good appeare, As their unknowne occasions are who doe them; And, small respect is to be had unto them, By way of P••esident, till we can finde Their outward motives, and their secret minde▪ This heeding; and still waxing more molested, With diff••ring thoughts, and reasons undisgested, I knew no better way, then to repaire For counsell unto God, ••y humble Pray'r; Beseeching his direction, how to take That course, which for his glory▪ most should make. And he (I think) was please•• to suggest, That if I askt my Conscience what was bes••, His Word and Spirit would informe her so, That she should shew me what was best to do. Then, from the noise of other mens perswasions, (From selfe-c••nceit, and from those vaine occasions,

Which bring disturbances) I did retire, Gods pleasure, of my Conscience, to enq••ire. Who, finding in my brest a strong contention Twixt Fai••h and Reason; and, how their dissention Was fi••st to be composed (that I might The sooner understand the t••uth aright) She call'd a Court within me; s••mmon'd thither Those Pow'rs, and all those Faculties together, Which Tena••ts a••e in chiefe u••to the Soule: Their faulty inclinations did controule: And, that she might not without profit chide, Some ill advis••d courses rectifi'd. Then will'd she FAITH and REASON to debate Their Cause at large: and, that which they, of late, Had urg'd confusedly within my brest, She will'd them, into Method, to digest: That so, my Iudgement might the better see, To whether part I should enclined be They both o••e••'d. And, REASON (who suppos'd Delay bred danger) hastily compos'd Those many strong perswasions, wherewithall She did my person from the City call; Before my Conscience, them in order laid, And (as halfe angry) thus me thought she said. What meanest thou, thus fondly, out of season, To shew thy boldnesse in contempt of Reason? Why art thou alwayes these mad courses taking? Thy Lines, and Actions, Paradoxes making? Why thus pursu'st thou what to ruine tends, To glad thy foes, and discontent thy friends? By making wilde adventures, to the blame Of thy blinde Faith, and my perpetuall sh••me? Is't not enough, that by thy little caring To humor Fooles, and by thy over daring

To ••eard proud Vices, thou h••st lately cros•• Thy way to riches, and preferment lost? Is't not enough, that when thou dost become The scorne of Foole••, thou wert delivered from A m••••ked Hate, ev'n in that day, and place, Which Malice had assign'd for thy disgr••ce? And sawst the shame of that unjust I••tention Alight on him who plotted that Invention? Is't not enough, that thou escape•• hast Through many wants and perils und••sgrac'd, When thy advent'rous Muse drew downe upon thee Those Troubles which were like to have undone thee? Suffice not these, unlesse thou now assay A needlesse act? and foole thy life away By tempting Heav'n, in wilfull staying there, Where, in thy face grim death doth alway stare? Looke what thou d••st, and w••ll obse••ve ••hine errors, For, thou art round about, enclos'd with terrors. And if thou be not stupid thou maist see That there is cause thou shouldst affrighted be. Dost thou not smell the vapours of the Gr••ve? Dost thou not heare thy plague-sicke neighbours rave? Dost thou not tast infection in the Aire? Dost thou not view sad objects of despaire? Dost thou not f••ele thy vitall pow'rs assailed? Dost thou not finde thy spirits often quail••d? Or with thy judgement hast thou lost thy sense, That thou dost make no greater speed from hence? Marke there, how fast with Corpses they do throng▪ See yonder, how the Shadowes, passe along. Behold, just now, a man before thee dies: Behinde thy back, another breathlesse lies. That Bell, now ringing, soundeth out the Knell Of him, whom thou didst leave, last ev'ning, well.

Lo, he that for his life, lyes gasping, there, Is one of those who thy companions were This very morning. And, see, see, the Man That's talking to thee, looketh pale, and wan, Is sick to death; and, if thou doe not run For helpe, will die before his tale be done. Yet, art thou no•• afraid? I prethee, tell Why mightst thou not have beene that man as well? Though he this minute hath prevented thee, Why maist not thou, the next that followes be? Why shouldst not thou as quick••y drop away, Since, fl••sh and blood thou art, as fra••l as they? What can thy speedy dissolution hinder, Since thy complexion is as apt as tinder To take that Flame? And, if it seize thee must, What art thou better, then a heap of dust? There is no Constitution, Sex, Degree, Or Age of man, from this contagion free. Nor canst thou get an Antidote to fit For all Infection, though, perhaps, thy wit Could learne thy temper so, as not to wrong•• Thy health, by things too weak, or over strong. For, men oft change th•• temper they should hold, Are sometime hot; sometime againe are cold▪ One while are sprightly, otherwhile are dull; Are now too empty, and anon too full: That, tis a doubtfull, and a curious act, To adde a just proportion, and substract (In using outward meanes of pres••rvation) According to the bo••ies variation. And, many, therein failing, lose their lives, By wrong, or misapply'd Preservatives. Thou shalt have, therefore, but uncertaine hopes From Druggists, or Apothecary shops.

To warrantize thy health▪ if thou on those In staying here, thy confidence repose. And sure, thou neither harbor'st such a thought, That, thou of any better s••uffe art wrought Then other men: nor trustest unto Charmes, To keepe off this Disease from doing harmes: For, those unhallowed Med'cines, and i••pure, Breed greater Plagues, then those they seeme to cure. Nor art thou, of that Brotherhood, which sees The Booke of Gods particular Decrees; And Gypsie like (by heathnish Palmistry, Or by the lines of Phisiognomy) Conjectures dareth not alone to give, Who of this Plague shall dye, or who shall live: But also wicke••ly, presumes to t••ll Which man shall goe to heav'n, and which to hell: Of these I know thou art not. For, as yet I hope thou hast not so forgone thy wit: To credit their illuding p••ophanations, Which are but fantosmes of illuminations Begot in these late Ages (by misch••nce) Betwixt much pride, and zealous ignorance. Thou dost not think thy merits greater are Then other mens, that God thy l••f•• should spare. Nor canst thou hope thy safety to poss••sse, For that thy follies or thy sinnes are lesse. Since if thou hadst but one time beene mis-led, Thy life for that one time were so••fei••ed. And, this Disease, with outward ma••ks, doth strike. The Righteous, and the Wicked, both alike. Then, since thou art a Sinner, and art sure, That sinne did first this Pestilence procure: Since thou maist also justly say with griefe, That, thou of all transgressors art the chiefe:

Since thy offences some of those have bin, Which h••lpe to bring this great Infection in: Nay; since it may be (if thou search thy heart) That thou a principall among them art, Who from the Ship must Ionas-like be throwne, Before this Tempest will be over blowne▪ Why doth it not thy guil••y soule dismay, And make thee hasten more to flye away? It may be thou dost vainly hope for Fame, By doing this. Oh! what availes the same, When thou art raked up quite void of sense, Among the slaughters of the Pestilence? What will it profit when thou sleep'st in clay, Some▪ few should praise, and some lament thy stay? Some heed it not? Some make a mocke thereat? Some deeme thee foolish, others d••sperate? Some, judge thy tarying might for trifles be? Some, for thy best intention slander thee? Or with base trash thy breathlesse Muse bely••▪ Or, mis-report thy dying, if thou dye? For, if thou chance to perish in this Place, These wayes, and other meanes to thy disgrace, Thy Foes will finde▪ and in thy fall contented, Accomplish what, thy life might have prevented. But say to scape alive thy Lott it be; A troupe of other perils wait on thee. Thou know'st not what extremities may fall, Nor how thy heart may struggle therewithall. Such Poverty upon this Towne may seize, E're God asswage the rage of this Disease, That meanes may saile thee; and before supply Thy friends can send thee, thou maist famisht lye: For they who now affect thee, and with whom Thou shal••, perhaps, to live resolv'd become,

Ev'n they may perish in this Pest, and leave thee To strangers whose affections will deceive thee: In time of health, but slenderly befriend thee: In sicknesse, to a lonely Roome commend thee: Make spoile of what is thine, and senslesse be Of helping, and of all regard of thee. And then it will, perchance, afflict thy mind That thou unto thy selfe wert so unkinde, As to neglect th••t wholesome Country Ayre▪ Whereto thy friends invited thy repaire. Thou maist remember, when it is too late, Those pleasures, and that happy healthy state Thou mightst have had: A••d wi••h how much respect Thou shouldst have liv'd with those that thee affect; A comfort to thy Parents, who with feare, D••e sorrow for thy needl••sse lingring here: For, them thou leavest, an•• some friends beside, (To live, 'twixt hope and feare, unsatisfi'd By this thy doing) whom thou dost abuse, If that which may d••scomfort them thou chuse. And, when they shall thy wilfulnesse condemne, With what good Reasons wil•• thou answer them? Thy Dwelling is not here; nor is thy stay Compelled by Affaires that urge it may. Thou hast nor publike neither private charge; But, maist in any place, goe walke at large. The wo••ld conceiveth not the least suspition, That thou art either Surgeon, or Physitian, (Whose Art may stand this place in any s••eed;) Or that thy friends will thy attendance need. For thou canst neither Broths nor Caudles make, Nor drenches good enough for horse to take. Thou hast no Calling, that may warrantize This boldnesse: neither can thy wit devise

How thou will answer God, f••r daring thu•• An act so needlesse, and so perillous. Consider well, that there are paines in death; Consider, that when thou ha••t lost thy breath, Thy Flesh, the deare companion of thy Soule, Shall be rejected as uncleane, and foule, And, lodge within a Grave, contemn'd and vile, Which might have liv'd esteemed, yet a while. Consider, that thou hast not an estate Of being, which is base or desperate; But such, as few on earth possesse a better, Though each one, that hath ought, enjoyes a greater. Consider, that thou dost endanger now The blessing of long life. Consider, how Thou mightst have lived to a larger measure Of riches, of preferment, or of pleasure; And profited thy Country, whereunto Thy Death, or Sicknesse, will no service do. Nay, if thou now miscarry, where will be Those honest hopes which late possessed thee? To ••hose thy Studies who an end shall adde, Which but a while agoe, beginning had? And, being left unfinisht, make the paine And houres, upon them spent, to be in vaine? With somewhat thou endued art, whereby Thou ma••st thy blessed Maker glorifie; Thy selfe advantage, and a joy become To such as well affect thee; and 'gainst whom (If thus thy selfe thou separate) thou shalt Commit a most inexpiable fault. Oh! the••efore, I beseech thee, wary be, To thinke what service God requires of thee: Think, what thou w••st thy selfe; and call to mind, That some wel-wille••s thou maist leave behinde,

Whose hopes thou should'st not wilfully bereave, (Whose loves thou should'st not unrequited leave) By hazarding thy Life, which is a debt To their deservings. For, thou know'st not, yet, How that may grieve thy soule, or fill thy head With troubled sancies, o•• thy dying-bed. I cannot make d••scovery, by all My faculties, and po••'rs rationall, What worke tho•• maist imagine should be done T••at's worthy of the hazard thou dost run. Nor can, as yet, my understanding reach (What hope soever Faith may please to pre••ch) To those Felicities; which after death Her supernaturall Doctrines promiseth. Nor finde I suc•• assurances, a•• may Preserve thee unaffrighted in thy stay. For when within my Naturall Scale I place Those Arguments, and Promises of Grace, Which Faith alledgeth; they so ayrie prove, That they my Ballance very little move. Yea, such transcendent things declareth she▪ As they me thinks should so distemper thee, That doubts and terrors rather should possesse Thy Soule, then hopes of reall ••appinesse; Since what in Death, or after Death shall come, Are things, that Nature is estranged from. Fly therefore, this great perill. Seeke a place Where thou maist plead more safely of thy Case: And, since thy God, with Reason, thee doth blesse, Now, most thou need'st it, be not reasonlesse. All this (and what the ca••nall wit of man Object, in such an undertaking can) Did R••ASON urge, to make my stay appeare An act imp••ovident, and full of feare:

And what her seeming rightfull c••use advances, Was utt'red with such dreadfull ci••cumstances, That she did hal••e pe••swade me to confesse, My Resolution would be foolishnesse. But, when my R••ASON had no more to speake, My FAITH began: & though her st••ength was weak, (Because my ••railties had enfeebled her) Yet, then I felt her with more vigour stir, Then in lesse perills. For, she blew aside Those fogs whe••ewith my heart was t••rrifi'd: Made cleare my Iudgement: and (as having wa••gh'd The speech f••regoing) thus, me thought, she said. How wise is REASON in an Ethnicke Schoole, And, in divine proceedings, what a foole? How many likely things she mus••er can, To startle and amaze a naturall man, W••ich, when I am advis'd withall, are found But pannick feares, and terrors without ground! And yet, how often doth blinde Ignoranc••, Above my reach her shallownesse advance? Or else of madnesse, wickedly condemne My wisdome, and my safest paths contemne? Yet be not thou (my Soule) deceived by The foolishnesse of humane Sophistry. But, since by thy Afflictions, thou hast got Exp••rience, which the world attaineth not; Give heed to me, and I will make thee know Those things which carnall Reason cannot show. Yea make thee by my pow'r more certaine be Of that which mortals can nor heare nor see, Then of the plainest objects that appeare Vnto the sense of corp'rall eye or eare: And though my promise, or my counsell seeme To vulgar Iudgements, but of meane esteeme,

Ile so enable the•• those seares to bide, W••erewi••h the worldly-wise are terrifi'd; And, teach thee such contentednesse to gaine, Though in Deaths gloomy shades thou dost remaine: That, thou (without all doubtings) shalt perceive, Thou shouldst not this afflicted Citie leave. And Flesh and Blood, with wonder, shall confess•• That Faith hath pow'r to teach men fearlesnesse, I•• perils; which do make their hearts to ake, Who scoffe at her, and part with Reason take. It cannot be denyed that this Place Yeelds dread enough, to make the boldest face To put a palenesse on, unlesse the minde Be over much to sen••••esnesse enclinde: Because, we nat'rally abhor to see Such loathed objects of mortality. 'T••s also true, that there is no defence To guard the body from this Pes••ilence, Within the compasse of mans pow••r or wit: Nor can thy merit so prevaile with it, But that (for ought thou knowest) thou maist f••ll The growing number of Death•• weekly-Bill. And what of that? whìlst I befriend thee shall, Ca•• such a common danger thee apal••? Shall that, which heath'nish men, and women beare, (Yea tender infants) without shewes of feare, Amate thy spirit? shall the drawing nigh Of that, from which thou has•• no meanes to ••••ye, (And which thou walkest toward, ev'ry day, (With seeming stou••nesse) fright thee now away? Is Death so busie grow••e in London streets, That h•• with no man in th•• Country me••ts? Beleeve•••• thou, the number he hath slaine Hath added any thing unto the paine?

Or, hast thou lately apprehended more Deaths fearfull gast lin••sse, then heretofore, That in this time of tryall thou shouldst finde Thy Soule to slavish Cowardice enclinde? Death is that Path, which ev'ry man must tread; A••d, whe•• thou shalt d••scend among the dead, Thou go'st but thither where thy fathers be, And whither, all that live shall follow thee. Death is that Haven, where t••y Barke shall cas•• Her hopefull Anchor, and lye moored fast, Exempted from those furious windes and seas▪ VVhich in thy heav'nly voyage, thee diseas••. Death i•• th•• Iaile-deliv'ry of ••he Soule: Thy joyfull yeare of Iubilee: thy Goale: The Day that ends thy sorrowes, and thy sins; And that, wherein, best happinesse begins. A lawfull act, then wherefore shouldst thou feare To prosecute; although thy death it were? Full oft, have I enabled thee to bide The brunt of dreadf••ll stormes, unterrifide▪ And, when thy dastard Reason (not espying That heav'nly Game, at which thy Faith was flying) Di••heartned grew; I did thy body free From ev'ry p••rill which enclosed thee: So working, that those thin••s thy praise became, Which Malice had projected for thy shame; And, common Reason, who suppos'd thee mad, Did blush to see how little wi•• she had. Yet, now againe, how f••olishly she tryes To cast new fogs b••fore thy Iudgements eyes? ••hat childish Bug-Bea••es hath she mus••red ••ere, To scar t••y senses with a causelesse f••are? Of those loath'd Objects wherefore doth she tell, Which v••x the sight, the hearing, and the smell?

Since, when the utmost of it shall be said, All is but Death; which can but strike thee dead. And when that's done, thou shalt (by me revived) Enjoy a better life then thou has•• lived. If those hobgoblin terrors of the grave, (Wherewith meere nat'rall men affrighted have Their troubled soules) deterre thee from that path, Whereto the will of God injoined hath; To thee (oh! Soule) how dreadfull would it be If WARRE, with all her feares enclosed thee? Nay, if such common terrors thee amaze, How wouldst thou quake, if in a generall blaze, The world should flame about thee? (as it may, Perhaps, before thou see another day) Sure, if these Scar-crowes do det••rre thee so, Thou scarce wilt welcome (as thou oughtst to do) That Moment when it comes; nor so rejoyce, As they, who long to heare the Bridegroomes voice. Here therefore stay, and practise to inure Thy soule to tryalls; that thou maist endure All chang••s, which in after times may come: And wait with gladnesse, for the Day of Doome. Seeke here, by holy dread, to purge away Those Crimes which heape up terrors for that day. Endure the scorching of this gentle fire▪ To purifie thy heart from vaine desire. Learne here, the death of righteous men to dye; That thou maist live with such eternally. H••re, exercise thy Faith, and watch, and pray, That when thy body shall be mixt with clay The frigh••full Trumpet, whose amazing sound Shall startle H••ll, and shake earths massie Round. May make thee leape with gladnesse from thy grave, And no sad horrors in thy Conscience have.

What canst thou hope to purchase here below, That thou shouldst life unwillingly for goe? Since, there is nothing which thou canst possesse, Whose sweetnesse is not marr'd with bitternesse: Nor any thing so safe, but that it may, To th••e, become a mischiefe, many a way? If honourable thou mightst live to grow, That honor may effect thy overthrow. And (as it makes of others) make of thee A thing as blockish, as bruit creatures be▪ If Rich; those Riches may thy life betray; Choake up thy vertues, and then flye aw••y. If Pleasure follow thee; that pleasing vaine May bring thy soule to everlasting paine: Yea, that which most thou longest to e••joy, May all the pleasures of thy life destroy. Seeke therefore true co••t••n••ment where it lies, And feare not ev'ry B••bies fantasies. If Life thou love; Death is that entring in Where life which is eternall doth begin. There, what thou most desirest is enjoy'd; And, Death it selfe, by dying is destroy'd. Though length of life, a blessing be confest, Yet, length of dayes in sorrow is not best. Although the Saylor, sea-roome doth require, To reach the harbour is his chiefe desire: And, though 'tis well our debts may be delay'd, Yet, we are best at ease when they are paid. If ••itle••, thou aspire unto: Death brings The Faithfull, to become immortall Kings: Whose glorie passeth earth••y pomp, as far As Phoebus doth outshine the Morning-star. Desirest thou a pleasant healthfull dwelling? By Death thou gain'st a Country so excelling;

That, plenty of all us••full things is there, And all ••hose objects that delightfull are. A golden pavement thou sh••lt walke upon; And lodge in Buildings wall'd with precious stone. If in rich Garmen••s to be cloath'd thou seeke, The Persian Mon••rks never had the like: For, Puritie it selfe thy Robe shall be; And like the Stars, thy Crowne shall s••ine on thee. Hast thou enjoyed those companions here, VVhose love and fellowship delightfull are? Thou shalt, when thou from sight of those art gone, Of that high Order be installed one, VVhich never did false Brother entertaine; VVhereof, ev'n God himselfe is Soveraigne: And in whose company thou shalt possesse All perfect, deare, and lasting friendlinesse. Yea, there ev'n those whom thou on earth hast lo••ed ••n••••se time (with such love as is approved) Thou shalt enjoy againe: and not alon•• Their friendship; but the love of ev'ry one Of those blest men and women, who both were, And are, and shall be, till our Iudge appeare. Hath any mortall beauty pleas'd thee so, That, from her presence thou ••rt loath to goe? Thou shalt in stead of those poore imperfections, VVh••r••on thou setlest here unsure affections▪ The Fountaine of all Beauties, come to see (Wi••hin his lovely bosome lodged be) And know (when thou on him hast fixt thine eye••) That, all earths Beauties are deformities. To these, and happinesses, greater far Then by the heart of man conceived are, Death maketh passage. And, how grim soe're He may to those that stand aloo•••• appeare;

Yet, if thou bide unmoved in thy place, Till he within his armes doe thee embrace; Thou sh••lt perceive that who so timely dieth, Enjoyes contentments which this life denyeth. Thy feare of painfulnesse in death is vain••; In Death is eas••; in Life, alone, is paine. Man makes it ••readfull by his owne inventions▪ By causelesse doubts, and groundlesse apprehensions. But, when it comes, it brings of paine, no more Then Sleepe, to him that restlesse was before. Thy Soules departur••, from the Flesh, doth maze, And thee afflicteth more then there is cause: For, of his sting, thy Saviou••, Death despoiled: And, feares, and dangers from the Grave exiled. Thou losest not try Body when it dyes; Nor doth it perish, though it putrifies. For, when the time appointed, it hath laine, It shall be raised from the dust againe, And, in the s••ead of this corrupted one, Thy Soule, a glorious Body shall put on. But hadst thou not a Faith which might procure the•• Such comforts, and such life in death assure thee: Or, though thou shouldst, by dying, be possest Of nothing else, but of a senselesse rest: Me thinkes thy ••arnall Reason should, for that, Perswade thee rather to be desperate, And stay, and seeke for Death, e'••e languish in Perpetuall sorrowes, such as thine have bi••. For, if to God-ward, ••oy thou foelest not, What comfort to the world-ward ••ast thou got, Which may desirous make thee to delay, Or linger out thy life another day? 'Tis true that God hath given thee a share I•• all thos•• Pleasures, that good pleasures are;

And (to the Giver•• glory be i•• spoken) H••e hath bestow'd on thee as many a ••ok••n Of his abundant love, as he bestowes On any, with so sew external sh••wes. For ev'n of outward things he doth impart As much as fits the place in which thou art; With full as many pleasures as may serve, Thy Patience, in thy suff••ings, to preserve: And, when for Rest, and Plenties, thou art fitter, I know, he will not make thy cup so bitt••r. But if thou live for outwar'd pleasures meerly; By living thou dost buy them over dearly. For (if thy peace in God were s••t aside) So many wayes thou hast beene crucifi'd, That some would think thy Fortune (if they had it) Most bitter; though most sweet thy hopes have made it. H••re, but a Pilgrimage thou dost possesse, I•• wandring, and perpetuall restlesnesse. Like Travellers, in sunshine and in raine, Both d••y and wet, and dry and wet againe. With rest, each Morning, well refresh•• and merry▪ A••d, ev'ry Ev'ning, full of griefe, and weary. To Vanity, in bondage thou dost lie, Still beaten with new stormes of Misery; And, in a path to which thou art a stranger, Assaulted with variety of Danger. His Face, sometime, is hid, whence comforts flow, And, men and devills, seek thy overthrow. Sin multiplies upon thee, ev'ry day: Thy vitall pow'rs, will more and more decay: Wealth, honor, friends, and what thou best dost love, Doth leave, deceive thee, or thy torment prove; Mans very Body burthens him; and brings Vnto itselfe a thousand torturings▪

Thy Heart, with many Thinkings is perplext: Yea, by thine owne Affections thou art vext: And (though by overcomming them at last, Thy soule hath comfort when the fight is past,) Thou hast perpetuall conflicts, which requir•• Continuall watchfulnesse: for, no Desire Or nat'rall Passion, ever did molest The heart of Man, that strives not in thy brest. In ev'ry Pleasure, somewhat lurks to scar thee▪ In ev'ry Profit, somewhat to ensnare thee: Whole armies of Afflictions swarme about thee, Some fight within thee; some assaile without thee: And, that which thou conceivest shall releeve thee, Becommeth oft another meanes to gri••ve thee. Yea, thine owne thoughts, thy spe••ches, and thine actions, Occasion discontentments, and distraction: And all the portion which thou dost inherit, Yeelds nought, but perturbations of the spirit. In Childhood, all thy pleasures were but toyes; In heat of Youth, as fruitlesse were thy joyes: Thy riper yeares, do nought but ripen care: And, imperfections, thy perfections are: If Old thou grow, thy griefes will aged be▪ And, Sicknesse, till thou dye, wil live in thee. Thy Life's a Warfare, which must quite be done, E're dangers vanish, or the Field be won. It is a Voyage full of wearinesse, Till thou thy wished harbor dost possesse: And, thou of no externall Ioy canst b••ast, That may not e're thy dying day be lost. But, truth to say, what thing dost thou possesse, Which others thi••ke to be a happinesse? The world allowes thee little that is hers, And ••hee to very small esteeme prefers.

Among her Minions: but, in ev'ry place Endeavors to affront thee with disgrace; D••prives thee of thy labours, and bestowes On Parasites, on Foo••es, and on thy Foes, Thy due: and with a spightfull enviousnesse, Thy best approved Studies doth suppresse. Behold, •• ••rothy Masq••e, an idle Song, The witlesse jesting of a scurrilous tongue, Th•• capring Dancer, and the foining Fencer, The bold Buffoone, the slye Intelligencer; Those fool••sh raving fellowes, whose delights Are wholly fixed on their Curs and Kites▪ The Termly Pamphlet••rs, whose Dedications Doe sooth and claw the times abominations: Ev'n such ••ike things as these can purchase grace, And quickly compasse Pension, ••ift, or Place; When, thy more honest Labours are abused, Contemned, sleighted, or at best refused. If such a one as these forenam'd, resort To set abroach his qualities in Court, He findes respect, and as an usefull man, His Faculty, some place afford him, can. He soone hath entertainment. Or if not, Yet, something may sor his availe be got. A base Invention, that scarce merit may The reputation of a Puppet-play, So••e spangled Courtier, or some foolish Lord▪ Admires, affects, and of his ow••e accord Prefers it to the Prince, or to the King, As an ingenious, or much usefull thing. And (ten to one) if then the Author can But humor well his Lordship, or his man (That rules his Honors wisdome) it may gaine him Some such like Lord as that to en••ertaine him,

For his c••mpanion; y••a, the privy purse May open to him: and, be fareth worse Then many a Foole hath done, unl••sse e're long▪ He purchaseth to be enro••l'd among The best Deservers; and arise to be Superior to a better man then be. Twixt these and thee what distances appeare? And, twixt your Fortunes what a space is there▪ When thou hadst f••nished a Worke divine, (As much for others profit, as for thine) Thou scarcely found'st a man, to make thee way Thy Present, at thy Soveraigne•• fee•• to lay. And when thou didst▪ No sooner laid he by What tendred was, but some in••urious eye Did quickly take thereof a partiall view, And with detracting Censures thee pursue. Yea, those meere Ignorants, whose courtly wi•• Can judge of nothing, but how cloathes doe fit; How Congees should be acted; how their Boy Obs••rve them should; or some such weighty ••oy: Those Shreds of Complement, patcht up for things To fill vast Roomes in Palaces of Kings, (As Antiques doe in Hangin••••) more for show▪ Then any profit, which from them c••n flow. ••v'n those (scarce worth our laughing at) have pa•••• Their doomes on that which thou presented hast; As if they understood it: and, as those, ••y chance did censure, so the Censure goes. If these, or any such like Mountebanks, By slavish fawning, or by pickin•• thanks; By ho••eliest services, (or worse) by cheating; Extorting from the poore, or by defeating Men hone••••ly disposed, (or, by any Of those ill meanes, whereof this age hath many)

Can, out of heggery, their fortunes reare▪ To hundreds, or to thousands by the yeare: They thinke themselves abus'd, if any grutch O•• m••rmur, as if they had got too much. But, though thou from thy childhood wert employ'd In painf••ll studies, and hadst not enjoy'd So much externall profit, as would pay The charges of thy Troubles, for a day: (Nay, rather, hindrance hadst, and punishment, For that, which gave most honest men content) Yet (marke their dealing) when but hope there was Of gaine to thee (which never came to passe) And though that gaine were lesse then Traders can Allow sometimes unto a Iourney-man: Yea though it were to no mans prejudice; (••ut many profiting) and did arise By thine owne labours: that small yearly summ•• Expected for, nought, yet, but losse doth come) Was grumbled at; as if it had beene more Then any ever gained heretofore; And would the Common-weale have prejudised, Had none, thereof, to frustrate thee, de••ised. Some, therefore (whose maliciousnesse is yet Vnanswer'd for) themselves against thee set; And, by the dammage of their owne estate, Have labour'd, thee and thine to ruinate. Some others, as injuriously, as they, Laid causelesse Nets, to snarle thee in thy way: And have procured, for thy best intents, Reproofes, Contempts, and Close Imprisonments; (As rigo••ous as ever were inflicted, Of those th••t for High Treason stood convicted) Yea, that which might an honest wealth have won thee, ••as that, whereby they sought to have undone thee.

Foule Scandals, thy best actions have attended. And (as if on thine Infamy depended The Kingdomes glory) Pamphlets false and base, Yea, publike Ma••ques, and Playes, to thy disgrace, Were set abroach; till justly they became, To those that made, and favour'd them, a shame. In Rimes, and Libels, they have done thee wrongs; Thou hast beene mention'd in their drunken Songs, Who nothing worse unto thy charge could lay, But, that, thou didst not seeme so bad as they. Meere Strangers, who are quite unknowne of thee, (Although they see not what thy manners be) Take pleasure to traduce thee, and to draw Those things in question, which they never saw. Nay, at their publike meetings, few forbeare To speake that s••andall, which they thinke, or heare▪ Ev'n since this Plague began, and whi••st thy hand Recording was that Iudgement on this Land; Thou art inform'd, that, Westward from this place (Some scores of miles) a generall rumor w•••• Both of thy biding here, and of thy death. And, they who said, thou hadst expir'd thy breath, (Supposing, as it seemes) it could not be That God from this Disease would shelter thee) Reported also, that, of Grace forsaken, And, by the sin of Drunkennesse o'retaken, Thou brok••st thy neck. It may be those men thought, That when the Plague ••hy life to end bad brought, They sh••uld have added som••what, to have slaine The life of good Report, which might remaine. Nor was that ayme quite void. For, (though of all Grosse sins, the staine of t••at, least b••ur thee shall) Some straight beleev'd what malice did surmise; Condemn'd thy Vertues, for Hypocrisies.

Made guilty all thy Lines of evill ends▪ Vs'd thee, as Iob was used by his friends▪ Did on thy Life un••hristian Censures passe▪ Affirm'd, thy Death had showed what it was; And, many a one that heard it, shall not know Vntill his dying day, it was not so. But, then they shall perceive, that most of that Is false, which men of others use to prate. But, wonder it is none, that thou among Some Strangers, in thy Fame hast suffred wrong: For, ••o, thy Neighbours (though they privy be To no such act as may difparage thee, But unto many rather, which in show, Appeared from a Christian minde to flow) Ev'n they, in private whisp'rings, many times Have taxed thee as guilty of those crimes Thou never perpetratedst, but dost more Abhor them, then do Mizers to be poore. And from th••se blots the more thy life is free, The more is theirs defilde, by slaundring th••e. In wicked Places (where yet n••ver came Thy foo••) some ac••ed follies in thy name: That others present, knowing not thy face, Might spread abroad of thee, to thy disgrace, VVhat others did. And, such a mischiefe, none But perfect Malice, could have thought upon. Thy very Prayers, and thy Charities Have ••••cked beene, and judg'd hypocrisies. When thou wert be•••• employed, thou wert s••re The b••sest imputations to endure. When thy intentions ha••e beene most sincere, Mens misconstructions alwayes ha••shest were; And, when thy piou•••• action thou hadst wrought, Then▪ they the greatest mischiefe on thee brought.

The best, and most approved of those Laies, By thee composed for thy Makers praise; Have lately greatly multipli'd thy F••es, And, not procur'd alone the spight of those Whom brutish Ignorance bes••ts among The misconceiving and ill••terate throng: But▪ they who on the seats of Iudgement sate, Thee, and those Labours have inveighed at. The Learned, who should wiser men have beene, Did censure that which they had never seene. Ev'n they, w••o make faire shewes of sancti••y, (God grant, it be not with hypocrisi••) With spightfulnesse, that scarce can matched be, Have shamefully tr••duced that, and thee. Nay, of the Clergy, some (and of the chiefe) Have with unseemly f••ry, post beleefe, So undervalu'd, and so vilifi'd Those Labors (which the tryall will abide, When their proud spleene is wasted) that, unlesse God had, in mercy, curb'd their furiousnesse, (And by his might abated, in some measure, That pow'r of acting their impe••ious pleasure) Their place, and that opinion they had gained, Of knowledge, and sincerity unfained, Had long ere this, no doubt, made so contemn'd Those Lines, and thee; that thou hadst beene condemn'd VVithout a triall. And so true a feeling Hadst gain'd ere now, of base and partiall dealing, That, Disconten•• ••ight then have urg'd thy stay, In hope this Plague, would th••t, have tooke away: But, thou by others, hast receiv'd the ••••ings Of Malice▪ otherwayes, in other things. Those men, whose over-grosse and open crime••, Are justly taxed in thi•••• ••onest ••imes,

Have by the generall notice of thy name, Sought how to bring thee to a generall shame, By raising causelesse rumors to be blowne Through ev'ry quarter where thy lines are knowne. For, there's no place without an enuious ••are, And slan••rous tongues be ready ev'ry where, To cast, with willingnesse, disgrace on those, Of whom, some good report, beforehand, goes. And since thou canst not answer ev'ry man, As he that's knowne in some few Townships, can; The falsest Rumors Men divulge of thee, Doe soone become a common Fame to be. Moreover (that lesse cause there may appeare, Why thou shouldst life desire, or dying feare) The most affected thing this world containes, Hath tor••ur'd thee with most heart-breaking paines. For, they whom thou hast loved: they to whom Thou didst obliged many wayes become: Yea ••hey who knew thy faithfulnesse; ev'n they, Have made their outward kindnesses the way To make thee most ingratefull seeme to be, Yea, they have heaped more disgrace on thee, More griefes, and disadvantages, then all Thy Foes together, bring upon thee shall. And long pursued have, to thy vexation Their courses with harsh trickes of ag••ravation; Yet still pretending Love: which makes the curse, Of this Affliction twenty times the worse. I will ••ot say that thou affl••cted art In this (by them) without thy owne desert: For who perceives in all how he offends? Or thinks, that God correction causelesse sends? Nor will I say this injury proceeds, Fromany Malice. For, perhaps, it breeds

From their distemper'd love. And God to show Some needfullsecret (which thou best maist know By this experiment) a while doth please, To make thy late Contentments thy Disease. Thy first Acquaintan••e, who did many a yeare Enjoy thy fellowship (and glad appeare To seeme thy friends) have wearied out their love, By length of time; and strangers now doe prove. Thou also seest, thy new acquaintance be Worne out as fast as gotten. For, to thee Most come, for nothing but to satisfie Their idle fruitlesse curiositie: And, having seene, and found thee but a man, Their friendship ended, just as it began. Nay, they who all thy course of life have seene, And (in appearanc••) have perswaded beene, So well of thy uprightnesse, as if no••ght Could move in them, of thee, one ••vill thought: These, by a little absence, or the sound Of some untrue Relation (wanting ground) Doe all their good opinion some••ime change; Suspect thy mann••rs, and themselves ••strange, So unexpecte••ly▪ and without cause, That what to judge of them it makes thee pause▪ For they that vertuous are, but in the show, Doe soone suspect, that all men else, are so. Th••se things are very bitter unto such Whose hearts are sensible to ev'ry touch Of kindnesse, and unkindnesse; and they make Life tedious, where they deepe impr••ssion take. But, many other griefes thy Soule doe grinde; And thou by them, art pained in a kinde So diff••ring from the common sense of others, (Although thy patience much distemper smothers)

That Reason might me thinkes contented be, Thou shouldst pursue thy Death to set thee free. I spe••ke not this, as if thou didst repin•• At these, or any other lots of thine: Nor to discourage thee, be••ause the World So little of her Grace on thee hath hurl'd. For, I would have thee scorne her love; and know That whe••her sh•• will favour th••e or no, I wil••, in thy due season, make thee rise To honor, by that way which me•• despise: Ev'n to those honors, which are greater then The greatest that conferred are, by men. And, this I mention, in reproach of them Whose Pride, thy humble Mufings, doth contemn••: And ••o remember thee, how vaine it were, To seeke for life, where such harsh dealings are. And, as I would not have thee wish to live ••or love of any thing, this world can give: So, I am loath her troubles should have pow'r To make thee seeke to shorten life an houre. But rather in contempt of all her spight, To lengthen it, untill pale Envie quite Consume her selfe; and thou at last be sent From hence, victorious, crowned with content. I therefore, here, perswade thee not to stay▪ That vainly thou mightst foole thy life away: Or, that some poore applauses may be got; Or, for such trifling ends as profit not; And, whereof, Reason her di••like infers: For, my opinion jumps in that, with hers. I doe not counsell thee to cast aside That care▪ which teacheth wisely to provide For wholsome Antidotes: Or to observe Such courses, a•• are likely to preserve

Thy body sound: nor is it my intent, Thou shouldst employ, by way of complemen••, Thy time in visiting infected friends; When to their comfortings it little tends. Nor am I pleas'd in him that so presumes, Or such a franticke foolishnesse assumes, As desperately to thrust himselfe among The noisome brea••hings of a sickly thro••g, When such a danger nothing may availe: And, where the meanes of lif•• will surely faile. Nor would I now betray thee to thy sin; Or worke thy losses, that thy foes may win; Or make thee tempt thy God; or grieve thy friends▪ Or barre thy Labors of their wished ends: Nor can••••t thou thinke thy Rea••on well hath said, To cast such stumbling-blockes, as she hath laid: For, just and comely things, I doe advise; And, seeke not Mischiefes, but their Remedies. A carnall Wisedome sayes she seeth not What knowledge and assurance may be got Of those eternall things, that objects are Of Chr••stian hope. But, wherefore shouldst thou feare What ••lesh and Blood blasphemously hath said? Since, into thee already are convaid ••••th Notions, and the reall sense of that Which they, who would not see, doe stumble at? Meere humane Reason cannot ••each to know Of many thousand Creatures here below, The s••cret natures: Doe not wonder thou, That few celestiall things perceive she can: But call to minde, that to be fl••shly wise, Is to be foolish in Truths Mysteries. Give God the praise, who hath on thee bes••owne A better apprehension then thine 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Remember still, to cherish this beleefe; Let Prayer daily fet thy Faith releefe: And be assur'd that I advise thee best, What e're thy carnall Reason shall suggest. If thou suppose that thou hast ought begun, Which may thy Coun••ry profit, being done, Or honor God: proceed thou in his name, With cheerfulnesse, and finish up the same. For God will either give thee life to doe it, (If cause the••e be) or call another to it Of better gifts▪ And, if thou grudge at this, Thou seekest thine owne honor, more then his: And, though a pious purpose thou pretend, Thy holy shew••s have some unholy end. Say, thou among the m••ltitude must fall; Say, they that hate thee, thereof triumph ••hall; Or others (out of levity) contemne Thy course; or thee unj••stly should condemne, As Reason pleads? what prejudice to thee Wo••ld this be more, then s••ch mens pra••ses be? What harme is this to thee wh••n ••hou art gone? And hast no se••se of any wrong that's done? What needst thou care, if all the wo••ld suppose To hell thou sinkest; if thy spi••it it goes The way to heav'n? And in that narrow path A ••lessed being, unperceived hath? Pursue brave Actions, as a Christian ought, And, care not thou what shall of them be thought: (Except to rouze up other men it be, By making them perceive what rouzed thee) When thou dost walke uprightly, walke thou on, And scorne to looke aside, who looks thereon: For▪ he's a foole (if not an hypocrite) That in well-doing feeleth no delight,

Vntill some witnesse of his deeds he know, Or feele some praises his proud sai••es to blow, Nay, he that cannot in a vertuous deed, (Wherein, his Conscience, warrants to proceed) Persist without returning, though he should, Of all the world together, be controul'd; Or, if he thought it not a favour too That God would call him such a worke to doe; (Yea though that for his paines, he should become Abhorr'd of all men▪ t••ll the Day of Doome) Ev'n such a Man is farre below that height, To which by perfect Vertue climbe he might; And lose he doth, by feares that are in vaine, The bravest honor that his Faith can gaine. Thy Reason sayes, that thou a sinner art; And, thereupon doth urge thee to depart. But wherefore should the guilt of sin ••ffright F••••m staying, rather then from taking flight? For, if thou shalt remove away from hence, Thy guilt retaining, by impenitence, God hath not so his Plagues confined hither, But that they may pursue thee any whither. And whereas here, the danger, and the feare, Encompassing this place, might so deterre, So mollifie, and awe thy heart within thee; So move, and to amend thy life, so win thee, That God shall clense thy soule of ev'ry staine; And reconcile thee to himselfe againe: Perhaps, the wicked vaine securit••, That will attend thee whither thou shalt flye, May m••ke the measure of thy sinnes compleater, Thy comforts fewer; t••y afflictions greater; When least thou fearest, most of all disease thee; And keepe off this, that some worse thing may seize thee:

And, though thy Reason urge thee to beeleve, Thy friends may wronged be, or too much gri••ve, By this adventure: I, thy Faith, assure thee, That if my Motives may to stay procure thee, (For such good purposes as I propose) Thy God shall pay thy friends what ere they lose; Make some (by fearing what thy dangers are) Of their owne wayes to take the greater care: K••epe others (by preserving of them sad) More watchfull, that might else lesse heed have had▪ And, sti••re up thee for them, and them for thee, So zealous in continuall vowes to be, As w••ll (perchance) worse perils drive away, Then those, which are so feared, in thy stay. Oh! God, how many soules, by fleeing hence Scape this, and catch a deadlier Pestilence! How many hearts whom Feare doth somewhat strike With sorrowes, which begins Repentance-like, (And might by staying here, accomplish that, Which ev'ry true Beleever aimeth at) Will fall from those beginnings, by their flight, And lose the feeling of Gods Iudgement••, quite? How many! by wr••ng seeking to prevent, Their heav'nly Fathers loving chastisement, Incor••igible in their lives will grow? And bring themselves to utter overthrow? And oh! what multitudes, by staying here, Shall change their dread, into a filiall feare? Their feare to love, and love, and laud thee too, For sending that, which they abhorred so! Like them, who in the Deeps employed be, Here, thou the wondrous works of God shalt see. That thou maist tell ••he world what he hath done; And sing the praise of that Almighty-One

To this, and future a••es. And▪ for what Did he thy Soule and Body first create? For what redeeme thee? For what end infuse That Fa••ulty, which thou dost call thy Muse? For what, but for his honor, to declare Thos•• Iudgements and his Mercies which will h••re Be showne unto thee? and to sing the Story Of wh••t thine eye beholdeth to his glory? For, if not here, then where? Or if not now, Then, at what other time expectest thou So faire an oprortunity, to shew With how much readinesse thou couldst be••tow Thy life, and all thy faculties, on him (And, for his servic••) who bestowed them? What nobl••r Subject can the wo••ld afford, For thee, or for the Muses to record, Then will those Iudgements, and those Mercies be▪ Which God will in this place disclose to thee? If Reason seeke some purpose in thy stay, Me thinks, this purpose please thy Reason may: For, though those men who love their owne vaine praise, Have little care of their Creators waies, And finde small pleasingnesse in those Relations, Which are compos'd of such like Observations; Yet, all the glorioust acts of greatest Kings, A••e triviall, worthlesse, base, and foolish things▪ Respecting these. And, though some nicer wits Scarce think that such a Subject well befits Their artfull Muses. Yet, twixt this and that Whereon they love to plod and meditate, There's much more diff'rence, then betweene their Laie•• And those which they doe most of all dispraise: And they who live (the time) I hope shall see, These Poems, much, more prized then they be:

Yea, though it may appeare to common Reason, An act impertinent, and out of season, For such an end as this to make thy stay: Let not her carnall Sophismes thee dismay. For sin••e thou seest a vaine Historian dares His person to adventure in the warres, That he (for fame, or hire) may w••i••e a story Of wha•• is done to his Commanders glory: This action, wherefore shouldst thou startle from, As if thy Iudgement it would mis-become? If just it be, our safeties to contemne, In such a case (if that be good in him) How much more just, is thy adventure, then Who sin••••t the praise of God, and not o•• men? How mu••h more safely walkest thou, then they? How much more glory, and how much more pay, Can thy great Captaine give thee? And how small Should be thy feare? If thou should'st feare at all. Nor to thy God, or to thy selfe alone, Will acceptable services be done By sta••ing here: but, peradventure some That living are, and some, in time to come, May reap advantage by it, and confesse, That thou wert borne for them; and didst possesse And use thy life, not for thy selfe alone, But ••hat to others profit might be done. The gen'rall notice which men take of thee, Will make thy actions more observed be Then those of twenty others, who doe seeme In their small circuits, men of great esteeme: And, when hereafter it is knowne abroad, To what good purposes thou mad'st abode In this afflicted City: on what ground, Thy blamed resolution thou dost found:

How sensible thou wert of ev'ry seare, And of each perill thou adventredst here: How many friends thou ••adst to flye ••nto: How much elsewhere thou migh••st have found to do; What Censures thou shouldst hazzard, in t••y stay: VV••at pleasures wooed th••e to come aw••y: How, thy continuing here was not by chance By discontent, or humorous ignorance: How, no compulsion, no perswading Friend, No office, hope o•• gaine, or such like end Nec••ssitated thee. Yea, when by such, VVho are to feare e••slaved ••vermuch, All this is heeded well; And when men shall Consider it, comparing therewithall, VVhat causes moved thee; what meditation Confirm'd thy stay; what kinde of conversation Thou daily practisedst; and what good use They may from th•• experiments produce; It will perchance occasion some to learne Those things, which yet they doe not well discerne: Help, in good Resolutions, some to arme: Some weake ones in temptations much confirme: To some become a meanes to make them see That men despised, may enabled be, By Faith, to keepe their place undaunted there, Where men of better seeming gifts doe f••are. And peradventure thou maist compasse that Which likeher men in vaine have aymed at▪ For, though it may be said this place hath store By Calling and by Gifts, adapted more For such a taske; and that there may be some, That have no warrant for departing from Th••se noysome streets, who well enough may take This pain••s; and thereof thee excused make.

Yet, shall not that ••xcuse thee. For, all they Have Callings, which employ them wholly may▪ Yea, they whose wits are ••bler, think not on That worke, perchance▪ as needfull to be done. Or if they doe, perhaps, they may expire Before they have performed it; or tire. And though they should make perfit their designes: Yet their obs••urity, may barre their Lines From taking that effect, which if thou write, Thy being far more knowne, accomplish might. For, Fame prevailes with many (now adaies) And, if uncout••'d, unkist (as Chaucer saies.) Or grant that many had the same attempted, (And men of note) yet wert thou not exempted. For, best it is, when such like things as these Confirmed are by many witnesses. Beside, if those assurances which thou Shalt publish (and thy ••aith shall well allow) Affirmed were by none but such as they Who might not from this place depart aw••y Without much losse, or blame: meere naturall men Might have contemned all those counsels, then, And all those just reproofes, that may, by thee, Or any other man objected be, Against their flavish Feares: and may reply, That no man staid, but he that could not flye: Or that none durst become a voluntary, In such a Fire, for conscience sake▪ to tarie: And, that no mortall man had pow'r obtain'd To bide such brunts, till outwardly constrain'd. Whereas thy free abiding here, will move Much better thoughts: thy constancy approve; Procure the more beleefe to thy Relations; The more effectuall make thy good perswasions:

And stop th••ir mo••thes, who might some other w••y Thy paine•• have wrong'd, had ought proc••r'd thy stay. Oh! f••r, far be it, that Lust, Ava••ce, The strong d••••••empers of some hat••f••ll Vice, A stupid Mel••ncholy or the tumors Of some wilde Passion, or fantasti••ke Humor••, Should fixe more stoutnesse in the heart of man, Then temperate, an•• pious knowledge can. Far be it, that old women, for their pay, Or Sextons for as little b••re, as they, We in the w••lks of Death should walking see Without all f••are; yet, they deterred be, Who boast of knowl••dge; and have sung, and said, That though in Deaths black shadowes they w••re lai••▪ They would without dism••y continue th••re; Because Gods Rod, and Staffe, their keepers are. Oh! let not this be so: And be it far From proving true; that they who studious are Of Wisdome, and of Piety, should shrinke, Where he, whose head peece is but arm'd with drinke▪ Sits fearlesse: Or, that Vse, or Custome shall Embolden more, then Christian Faith, and all The Morall Ve••tues: Or, that thou shouldst yeeld To carn••ll Reason, and forgoe the Field. Moe Arguments I could, as yet, expresse, To prove thy staying hath much usefulnesse: As that it were unkindnesse to forsake Those persons here, who comfort in thee take. For, some professe already, that th••y bide, By thy example, greatly fortifi'd, (In their compelled stay) by seeing thee So willingly, the••r griefes companion be. Y••a, many a one, observing thee to stay, Confesseth, he doth shame to flye away.

Thereby, those Resolutions they have got, Which very lately they embraced not; And might, perhaps, if now thou shouldst depar••▪ Become afraid, because thou fearfull art. Me thinks, it is unmanlinesse to flie From those, in woe, whom in prosperity Thou lovedst: yea, tis basenesse, not to share In ••v'ry sorrow which thy f••iends d••e beare, As well as in their pleasures, if they be Such friends, as some of thine doe seeme to thee. Here, thou hast long continu'd. On the bread Of Dainties, in this City thou hast fed. Here, thou hast laught and sung; and here thou hast Thy youthfull yeares, in many f••llies past; Abus'd thy Christian-liberty, and trod That Maze, which brings forgetfulnesse of God. Here, thy example, some corrupted hath; Here, thou hast moved thy Creators wrath: Here, thou hast sinned; and thy sinnes they were, Which holpe to bring this Plague now raging here. Here, therefore, doe thou fast: here, doe thou mourne, And, into sighes, and teares, thy laughter turne. H••re, yeeld ••hy selfe to prison, till thou see At this Assize, how God will deale by thee: Ev'n here, the time redeeme thou: here, restore B•• good examples, th••se whom heretofore Thou hast offended: here, t••y selfe apply Gods just incensed wrath to pacifie. Here, joyne in true Repen••ance, to remove ••hat Storme which now descendeth from above. And the••, or live or dye▪ this Place, to thee A place of Refuge, and of ••oy shall be. Nor Sin, nor Death, nor H••ll, no•• any thing Sh••ll d••scontentment, fea••e, or perill bring

Which to thy Soule or Body, shall become A disadvantage; but helpe save thee from Destruction: Ioyes, as yet, unfelt, procure: In all temptation, mak•• thy minde secure: Discover plainly how thy Reason failed; And, make thee blesse the time, thy Faith prevailed. But, thou dost w••nt a Calling (REASON cries) Thy staying in this place to warrantize. And, that untill thereof tho•• dost obtaine The full assurance, all my speech is vaine. Indeed, the glorioust worke we can begin, Vnlesse God call us to it, is a sin. And ther••fore, ev'ry man should seeke to k••ow What, God, and what vaine ••ancy cals him to. For, Pride▪ and over-weening Arrogance, The Devill, or a zealous Ignorance, Suggests false warrants; and allureth men To dangerous adventures, now and then: Yea, maketh some, from God•• commands to fall, And take employments at the Devils call. To judge thy Calling, then, learne this of me, That, some Vocations ordinar•• be, Some extraordinary If thou take An ordinary Calling, thou must make The common entrance, which that pow'r doth give Within whose Iurisdiction thou dost l••ve: Else (whatsoever Cause thou dost pretend) It is Intrusion: and, thou shalt offend. If thou conceivest thou some Calling hast In Extraordinary; see it past By Gods allowance, from Gods holy Writ▪ Before such time as thou accept of it. And, then, beware that nothing force thee back, Or, make thee in thine Office to be slacke.

In briefe; a Calling extraordinary, To justifie it selfe, these Markes must carie; And, if it faile of ••hem, but in the least, Thy Conscience is deluded in the r••st. Gods glory will be aymed at, in chiefe: It will be grounded on a true beleefe: It doth not Gods revealed will oppose: No step that erres f••om Charity it goes: It seeketh not, what cannot be enjoy'd: It makes no ordinary calling void: Some cause not frequent must invite thereto: And (to accomplish what thou hast to doe) Some Gift, that's proper for it, must be given, And then, thou hast thy Calling seal'd from h••aven. Approve thy selfe by these, and thou shalt see, That, God, no doub••, hath truly called thee. To this adventure. For, thy h••art intends His praise in this, above all other ends. Thou dost bele••ve, that (whether live or dye) Thy st••y shall somewhat adde, to glorifie Thy blessed Maker; and that something shall To thine, and others profits, here, befall. Thy Iudgement, to thy Conscience nou••ht discloseth, Wherein it Gods revealed Will opposeth: It well agrees with Charity, and tryes To compasse no impossibilities. Nor binders it, nor calls it th••e from ought Which is more necessary to be wrought. A Cause not ordinary now requires Thy presence here; and, God himselfe inspires Thy B••est with Resolutions that agree To such an a••tion. Gi••ts, which none but he Can give, he gives thee; such, as are by Nature, Not found in any sub••oelestiall Creature,

But, me••rly of his Grace •• and, such, as none Can counterfeit, by all that may be done. And, whence are all th••se Musiags here exprest? Wh••nce come these combatings within thy brest Twixt M•• and Reason? who is it that makes Thy heart so fearlesse, now such horror shakes The soules of others? what embolden can The frightfull spirit of a naturall man, In such apparant dangers to abide? And yet, his Reason nothing from him hide, That seemeth to be dreadfull; neither leave him Such Aymes, or s••ch like Passions to deceive him, As harden others? Who, but he, that giveth Each p••rfit Gift, these Gifts to thee deriveth? And sure he nought bestowes, but therewithall He sends occasions that employ is shall. Few Officers shall w••nt a doubtfulnesse That they their places doubtfully possesse, If this be doubtfull; whether God (or no) Hath called thee to what I bid thee doe. For, outward Callings, most men doe, or may Intrude upon, by some sinister way: By Symony, by Bribe••y, by Spoiles, By open Violence, or secret Wiles. And therefore (though the Se••les of Kings they gaine To strengthen what unduly they obtaine) Some doubting of their Callings may be had To God ward, though such doubts be rarely made. But, for thy Calling thou Commission hast So firme; and it so many Seales hath past, That nothing should induce thee to suspect Thy Wa••rant, or distrust a good effect. God, from thy Cradle, seemes to have ordain'd thee To such a purpose: for, he yearly train'd thee

Through sev'rall cares, and perils, so inure Thy heart, to what he meant thou shouldst endure: Else why shouldst thou (whose actions honest were To Man ward, though to God ward foule they are) Be more for that afflicted, which doth seeme (To some) a worke deserving good esteeme, Then are a multitude in these our times, Convicted of the most notorious crimes? Why, at thy very birth, did he infuse Thy Soule with na••urall helpes to forme thy Muse, Which is a Faculty not lent to many, Nor by meere Art attained to, of any? To thee, why gave he Knowledge, such a way As others l••se it by? And why I pray Did he bestow upon thee so much Fame For those few childish lines that thou didst frame In thy minority▪ Why did he then (When scarce a man) enroule thy Name with men? And make thee to be prais'd and priz'd before Those men whose Yeares, and Sciences are more? What was there in thy Poems? what in thee, That seem'd not worthy of contempt to be, Much more then of applause? And what hast thou From scorne to save thee, but Gods mercy now? Beleeve it, he divulgeth not thy Name For thine owne honor: But to make the same A meanes of spreading his. From p••rills past He sav'd not thee, for any worth thou hast, But, to declare his Mercies At this season, He moves this plea betwixt thy Faith and Reason, Not to be passed over, as in vaine; But, in thy Brest true courage to maintaine. Thy Muse he gave thee, not to exercise Her pow'r in b••se and fruitlesse vanities,

Or to be silenc'd: but, to magnifie The wondrous workings of his Majesty. And, as the seales of Kings authorize those To whom they doe their Offices dispose, So, these are Signes which force enough doe cary To seale this calling extraordinary: And, they who sleight the same will in some measure Incur the King of heavens high displeasure. Mor•• might be said (hereof to make a proofe) But, more to say, were more then is enough. Of this, no further, therefore, I'le dispute; But, bid thee stay, thy Place to execute. When FAITH had made this pleading in my brest My REASON was perswaded to protest Her full assent, to what she first gainsaid, Which, that it might be constantly obey'd, My Conscience, in her Court, did soone decree; And, all my thoughts were then at peace in me. From that time forward, neither Friend, nor Foe, Could startle me in what I meant to doe. No vaine desires within me did controul•• My purpose: no distrusts did fright my soule: Nor seemed it, so dangerous, to stay, As (knowing what I ••new) to flye away. For, though these Arguments, and such as these, Can never fit in all mens Consciences, The just Meridian (seeing, variations, In manifold respects, make alterations) Yet, mine they suted with; and may, and shall Be some way usefull, to my Readers all. I wisht it so: For, I was then inspired With love to all▪ and all mens weale desired. Me thought, I pitied those, who should not see What God within this place did show to me:

And should have grieved to have beene constrained, Within the City, not to have remained. For by my selfe, when I to censure b••ought My present Lott; it pleas'd me: and, me thought, That, Go•• vouch••afed to employ me so, And furnish me for what I was to doe, With such a healthfull body, and a minde To act his will so readily enclin'd; It seem'd more comfort, and more honour far, Then if a Mona••kes Favorite I were, Or might for temporall respects become The noblest person of all Christendome. A•• ••, if I shall not still this minde embrace, A dog halfe hanged is in better case. For, when that favour I doe value lesse, I shall grow senselesse of all happinesse. Oh! God, how great a blessing, then, didst thou Confer upon me? And what G••ace allow! Oh! what am I, and what my parentage? That Thou of all the Children of this Age Didst chuse ou•• m••, so highly to prefer, As of thy Acts, to be a Register? And g••ve me Fortitude and Resolution, To stay, and view thy Iudgements execution? That, I should live to see thy Angell here, Ev'n in his grea••est dreadfulnesse appeare? That, when a thousand fell before my face, And at my right hand (in as little space) Ten thousand more, I should be still prot••cted From that contagious blast, whi••h them infected! That, when of Arrowes thou d••dst shoot a flight So thick by day, and such a storme by night Of pois••ned shaft▪ I, then, should walke among The sharpest of them; and yet passe along

Vnharm'd▪ And that I should behold the path Which thou dost pace in thy hot burning wrath, (Yet not consume to Ashes) what a wonder To me it seemes, when thereupon I ponder! How great a grace it was, whose tongue can say, That I who am but breathing dust and clay, Should waking (and in all my senses, well) Walke downe the Grave almost as low as hell, Yet come againe unscar••ed? and have leave To live and tell what there I did perceive! Yea come (as from the dead) againe to show The faithlesse wo••ld what terrors a••e below! (And justifie, that though a man be sent Ev'n from the Grave to move men to repent, No Faith would in those hearers be begot, Who Moses and the Prophets credit not.) How great a Mercy was it, that when I Was thought in dangers, and in griefes to lye, That, for my Shepheard I had thee my God? And in the p••th of best contentments trod? That I, on sweetest Pleasures banqueted, When other men did eate Afflictions bread? That, I had perfect joyes ev'n in my teares? Assured ••afety in my greatest foares? A thousand ••omforts, whereof they who lived In better-seeming states, w••••e quite deprived? And much content, which they will never know, Who keep those paths in which the Vulgar go. What ma••••hlesse benefits were these! & whence Canst thou, that gav'st them, have thy recompence, But from thy self••▪ Or who but ••hou alone Can give me heart enough to thinke ••pon These Gr••ces as I o••••ht? Oh! therefore, daigne To make my brest suffici••nt to containe

That measure of due thankfulnesse, which may Accepted be, for what I cannot pay. And, suffer not my frailties, or my sin To hide againe, what thou dost now begin To make me see; but grant to me thy grace, For ever, to behold thy cheerf••ll face. Nor Oile, nor Corne, nor Wine can glad me so: Nor shall their brutish lovers ever know What joyes within my brest begotten be, When thy pleas'd countenance doth shine on me. Let those who of great Kings affections boast, (And for ••heir ••avours are engaged most) Those, who possesse (their starveling soules to please) Sweet Gardens, Groves, and cu••ious Palaces, Rich Iewels, large Revenues, princely Stiles, The flatteries of Lords, and female smiles, The pleasures of the Chamber, and the Fields, All those which dainty fare, or Musique yeelds, The City or the Court; and all tha•• stuffe Of which their hearts can never have enough: Let these, and those who their desires approve, With such entising Objects fall in love: Let them pursue their fancies, till they finde What so••rowes and disgraces come behinde: And let the•• ••urfet on them, till they see By tride experience, w••at their fruit will be. I never shall ••nvy their happinesse; Nor cove•• their high for••unes to possesse, If thou p••eserve m•• still in thy protection, And cheere my spi••it by thin•• eyes reflection▪ For then I shall not feare the scornes of such▪ My ••ares, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shall never grieve me much: I shall not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to ••rouch and sue to them, Who thee, and me, and ve••tue shall contem••e▪

I shall nor shrinke nor startle, when I heare Those evill tidings, which men daily feare. Not leave my standing, though that in the roome Of this great Pestilence, a Warre should come. Or (which were wo••se) anot••er Fiery-triall, To ••orce us, of thy Truth to mak•• denyall. And, in these fearfull times, no temporall blisse Would seeme a greater priviledge then this, To those, who now with trembling soules, expect What our proceedings will at last ••ffect. Yea, they, perhaps, who now are stupifi'd, Will praise my lot, whē they their chance have try'd. But (though ev'n all men living should despise The comfort of it) I the same will prise. I praise thee for it, LORD, and here emplore. That I may praise thee for it, evermore: Th••t these expressions of thy love to me, May helpfull also to thy praises be In other men: And (if it may be so) In other times, and other places too: And, that the shewing how I did compose The wa••re which twixt my Faith and Re••son ros••, M••y teach some others how they should debate Such doubts within themselves; and arbitrate (Within their Co••rt of Conscience) what is fit To be concluded, and so practise it. For, why so largely, I have this exprest, That, was not, of my p••rposes, the least. I beg moreover, that I may pursue To utter that which I have yet to shew. And, that nor Sloth, nor Want, nor any Let, M••y to these Po••••es their last period set, Till I have made my Readers to conceive, That this was undertaken by thy leave▪

And, that my Censurers may come to say, There was an usefull purpose in my stay: Or shew me what they did; or, what I might Have done to better uses in my flight. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I lastly, crave (which is, I trust, begun) That, I ••he way of thy Commands may run, The remnant of my Talent, and my dayes, Employing in good actions, to thy praise: That, I, for ever, may those paths refuse Which may unhallow, or pervert my Muse: And that, when this is done, I may not fall Through Pride or Sloth; as if this act were all: But, humbly strive such other wo••kes to doe, As thou r••quir'st, and I was borne unto. Yea fu••nish me with ev'ry thing by which I best may se••ve thee, and I shall be rich. This beg I, LORD; and nothing else I crave, For, more then that, were lesse then nought to have: I beg of thee, nor Fame, nor mortall praise, Nor carnall pleasures, nor yet length of dayes, Nor honors, nor vaine wealth, but, just what may The Charges of my Pilgrimage defray. Oh grant me ••his; and heare me when I call: For, if thou stand not by me, I shall fall.

The fourth Canto.

Our Muse, in this fourth Canto, writes Of melancholy thoughts, and sights: Wha•• changes were in ••very place; What Ruines in a little space: How Trades, and how provisions fail'd; How ••orrow thriv'd, how Death prevail'd; And, how in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he did ri••e▪

With all his horrors, by his side. To LONDON, then, she doth declar•• How suting her afflictions were To former sinnes: what good and bad Effects, this Plague produced had: W••at friendly Champions, and what Foes For us did fight, or us oppose: And, how the greatest Plague of all On poore Artificers, did fall. Then, from the Fields, new griefe she takes, And, usefull Meditations makes: Relates, how flowly Vengeance came, How, God forewarn'd us of the same: What other Plagues to this were joyned: And, here and there are interlined Vpbraidings, warnings, exhortations, And, pertinent expostulations.

WHen Conscience had allowed my Commission, For staying, & declar'd on what condition; I did not onely feele my heart consent To entertaine it, with a full content, But also, found my selfe prepared so To execute the worke I had to do, That without paine (me thought) I was employ'd, And all my Passions to good use enjoy'd. For, though God fre••d my soule from slavish feare, Ye••, so much awe he still preserved there, As kept within my hea••t some naturall sense Oft is displeasure, and of penitence He gave me Ioyes, yet left some Griefe withall, Lest I into security might fall; Or▪ lose the fellow-feeling of that paine, Whereo••, I heard my neighbours to complaine.

He lent me health: yet, ev'ry day some twitches Of pangs unusuall; many qualme••, and stitches Of short continuance, my poore heart assailed, That I might heed the more what others ayled. He kept me hopefull: and yet, now and then, His rods (wherewith▪ in love, he scourgeth men) Did make me smart; lest else I might assume The liberty of Wantons, and presume. My ordinary meanes was made their prey, Who seeke my spoile, and lately tooke away. Yet, me with plenties, daily did he feed, And I did nothing wan••, which I could need, Which God vouchsafed to assure to me, That when unusuall workes required be; He will (e're we shall want what's necessary) Supply us by a meanes, not ordinary. By many other signes, unmention'd here, Gods love, and providence, did so appeare, And so me thought ingage me, to remove What ever to his work a let might prove; That (so farre forth as my fraile natu••e could Admit, and things convenient suffer would) My owne Affaires aside, a while I threw, And bent my selfe, with heedfulnesse, to view What, worth my notice, in thi•• Plague I saw, O••, what good uses I from thence might draw. But, ••arre I needed not to pace about, Nor long enquire to finde such Objects out. For, ev'ry place with sorrowes then abounded, And ev'ry way the cryes of Mourning sounded. Yea▪ day by day, successively till night, And from the evening till the morning light, Were Sc••e••es of Griefe, with strange variety▪ Knit up, in one continuing Tragedy.

No sooner wak'd I, but twice twenty knels, And many sadly-sounding passing-bels, Did greet mine eare, and by their heavy towles, To me gave notice, that some early soules Departed whilst I slept: That other some Were drawing onward to their longest home; And, seemingly, presag'd, that many a one Should bid the world good-night, e're it were noon••. One while the mournfull Tenor, in her tones Did yeeld a sound as if in deepe fo•• grones, She did bewaile the sorrow which attends The separation of those loving friends, The Soule and Body. Other while, agen, Me thought, it call'd on me, and other men To pray, that God would view th••m with compassiō▪ And give them comfortable separation. (For, we should with a fellow-feeling, share In ev'ry sorrow, which our brethren beare) Sometime my Fancy tuned so the Bell▪ As if her Towlings did the story tell Of my mortality, and call me from This life, by oft, and loudly sounding, Come. So long the solitary nights did last, That I had leasure my accounts to cast; And think upon, and over-think those things, Which darknesse, lonelinesse, and sorrow brings To their consideration, who doe know, From whence they came, and whither they must go. My Chamber entertain'd me all alone, And in the roomes adjoyning lodged none. Yet, through the darksome silent night did flye Sometime an uncouth noise; sometime a cry, And sometime mournfull callings pierc'd my roome, Which came, I neither knew from whence, nor whom.

And, oft betwixt awaking and asleepe, Their voices who did talke▪ or pray, or weepe, Vnto my listning eares a passage found, And troubled me, by their uncertaine sound. For, though the sounds themselves no terror we••e▪ Nor came from any thing that I could feare; Yet, they b••ed Musings; and those musings bred Conjecturings, in my halfe sleepi••g head: By those Conjectures into minde w••re broug••t Some reall things, before quite out of thought; They, divers Fancies to my soule did shew, Which m•• still further, and still further drew To follow them; till they did thoughts procure Which humane frailty cannot long endure: Ev'n such, as when I fully was awake, Did make my heart to tremble, and to a••e. And, when such frailties have disheartned men▪ Oh! God, how busie is the Devill then? I know in part his malice, and the wayes And times, and those occasions which he layes To worke upon our weaknesse; and there is Scarce any which doth shew him like to t••is. I partly also know by what d••g••ees He worketh it; how he doth gaine or leese Hi•• labours; and some sense I have procu••'d, What p••ngs are by the soule that while endur'd. For, though my God, in mercy, hath indu'd My Soule with Knowledge, and with Fortitud•• In such a measure, that I doe not feare (Distractedly) those tortures which appeare In solitary da••kness••: yet, some part Of this, and of all frailties in my heart Continues he; that so I might confesse His mercies with continuall thankfulnesse,

And, somewhat (••vermore) about me beare, Which unto me my frail••ies may declare. Yea (thou••h without distemper, now it be) So much of those grim feares are shewed me, Which terrifi'd my childhood, and which mak•• The hea••ts of a••ed men, sometimes to quake▪ That I am s••nsible of their estate; And can their case the more compassionate, Who on their beds of ••eath doe pained lye, Exil'd from com••ort, and f••om company, When dreadfull Fancies doe their soules af••ight▪ Begotten by the melancholy nig••t. Glad was I, when I saw the Sun appeare, (And with his Rayes to blesse our Hemi••phere) That from the tumbled bed I might arise, And with more lightsomnesse refresh mine eyes: Or with some good companion••, ••ead, or pray, To passe, the better, my s••d thoughts away: For, though such ••houghts oft us••full are, and good▪ Yet, knowing well, I was but flesh and blood, I also knew mans naturall condition Must have in joyes, and griefes, an intermission, Lest too much joy should fill the heart with folly, Or, too much griefe breed dangerous melancholy. But, when the Morning came, i•• little shewed, Save light, to see discomfortings renewed: For, if I staid within, I heard relations Of nought but dying pang••, and lamentations. If in the Stre••ts I did my footing set, With many sad disasters there I met. And, objects of mortali••y and feare, I saw in great abundance ev'ry where. Here, one man stagger'd by, w••th visage pale: There, lean'd another, grunting on a stall.

A third, halfe dead, lay gasping for his grave; A fourth did out at window call, and rave; Yonn came the Bearers, sweating from the Pit, To fetch more bodies to replenish it. A little further off, one sits, and showes The spots, which he Deaths tokens doth suppose, (E're such they be) and, makes them so indeed; Which had beene signes of heal••h, by taking heed. For, those round-purple-spot••, which most have thoght Deaths fatall tokens (where they forth are b••ought,) May prove Life tokens, if that ought be done, To helpe the worke, which Natur•• h••th begun. Whereas, that feare, which their opinion brings Who threaten Death; the want of cordiall things (To helpe remove that poison from the heart, Which Nature hath expelled thence in part) And then, the Sickm••ns liberty of having Cold drinks, and what his appetite is craving, Brings backe againe those humours pestilent, Which by the vitall pow'rs had fo••th beene sent. So by recharging him that was before Nigh spent, the fainting Combatant gives o're: And he that cheerfully did raise his head, Is often, in a moment, strucken dead. Fea••e also helps it forward. Yea, the terror Occasion'd, by their fond and common error, Who tell the sick••, that markt for Death they be, (When those bl••w spots upon their flesh they see) Ev'n that hath murthred thousands, who might here Have lived, ••lse, among us, many a yeare. For, if the Surgeons, or the Searchers, know Those markes, which for the markes of death do goe, From common-spots, or purples, (which we must Confesse, or else all kinde of spots d••str••st)

Then, such as we Death-tokens call, were seene On some, that have long since, recover'd beene. Before I learned this, I fixt mine eyes On many a private mans calamities, And saw the Streets (wherein a while agoe We s••arce could passe, the people fill'd them so) Appeare nigh desolate; yea, quite forlorne And for their wonted visitant•• to mourne. Much peopled Westminster, where late, I saw, So many rev'rend Iudges of the Law, With Clients, and with Suitors hemmed round: Where Courts and Palaces did so abound With bus••nesses: and, wh••re, together met Our Thrones of Iustice, and our Mercy-seat; That place, was then frequented, as you see Some Villages on Holy-dayes will be When halfe the Towneship, and the Hamlets nigh Are met to revell, at some Parish, by. Perhaps, the wronging of the Orphans cause, Denying, or perverting of the Lawes There practised, did set this Plague abr••eding, And sent the Terme from Westminster to Reading. Her goodly Church and Chappell, did appeare Like some poore Minster which hath twice a yeare Foure visitants: And, her great Hall, wherein So great a Randevow had lately ••in, Did look like those old Structure••, where long since Me•• say, King Arthur kept his residence. The Parliament had left her, to goe see If they could learne at Oxford to agree; Or if that ayre were better ••or the health And safety of our English Common-wealt••. But there, some did so counsell, and so vrge The Body politike to take a purge,

To purifie the parts that seemed foule: Some others did that motion so ••on••roule, And plead so much for Cordialls, and for that Which strengthen might the sinnewes of the State, That all the time, the labour, and the cost, Which had bestowed beene, was wholly lost. And, here, the empty House of Parliament Did l••oke as if i•• had beene disco••t••nt, Or griev'd (me thought) that Oxford should not be More pro••perous, yet; nor c••uld I any see Res••rt to com••ort her: But, there did I Behold two Traytors hea••s, which perching high, Did shew their teeth, as if they had beene grinning At those Affli••tious which are now beginning. Yea, their wide ••ye holes, star'd, me thought, as th•• They lookt ••o see that House now overthrow It selfe, which they with Powder up had blowne, Had God, their snares, and them, not overthrowne. White Hall, where not three months before▪ I spi'd Great Britaine in the height of all her pride, And, France with her contending, which could most Outbrave old Rome and Persi••, in their cost On Robes and Feasts: Ev'n that lay solitary, As doth a quite-forsaken Monast••ry In some lone Forrest; and we could not passe To many places, but through weeds and grasse. Perhaps, the sinnes, of late, committed ••here, Occasions of such desolation were. Pray God, there be not others, in the State, That will make all, a•• last, be desolate. The Stra••d, that goo••ly thorow-fare between•• The Court and City (and where I have seene Well nigh a million pa••sing in one day) Is now, almost, an unfrequented way:

And peradventure, for those impudencies, Those riots, and those other foule offences, Which in that place were frequent, when it had So great resort; ••t is now justly made To stand unvisited▪ God grant it may Repent▪ lest longer, and another way It stand unpeopled, or some others use Those blessings, which the owners now abuse. The City-houses of our English P••eres, Now smoakt as seldome, as in other yeares Their Country-palaces: and, they perchance Much better know then doth my ignorance, Why so it came to passe. But, wish I shall That they their wayes to minde would better call; Le••t both their Country▪ and their City-piles, Be smoaking seene, and burning, many miles. The Innes of Court I entred; and I saw Each Roome so desolate, as if the Law Had out-law'd all her Students; or that there Some fear'd arrestings, whe••e no Sergeants were. Most dreame, that this great fright was thither sent Not purposely, but came by accident; And so, but little use is taken from Gods Iudgements, to amend the times to come. Yet, I dare say, it was a warning given Ev'n by appointment: and decreed in heaven: To s••gnifie, that if our Lawyers will In their abusive wayes continue still, The cause of their profession quite fo••getting▪ And to their practices no limits setting, Till they (as hereto••ore the Clergy were) Are moe in number then the Land can beare. Their goodly Palaces shall spew them forth, As excrements that have nor use nor worth;

And, be disposed of, as now they s••e, The Priories, and Monasteries be. It griev'd me to behold this wofull change, And places so well knowne, appeare so strange. But, oh poore LONDON! when I lookt on thee, Remembring therewithall, thy jollity Erewhile; and how soone after I did meet With griefe and sad complaints in ev'••y street▪ When I did minde how throng••d thy Ga••es have bin And then perceiv'd so few past out or in. When I consider'd that abundant store Of wealth, which thou discover'dst heretofore: And, looking on thy many empty stalls, Beheld thy shops set up their wooden-wals▪ Me ••hought, thou should••t not be that London, w••ich Appear'd of late so populous, and rich; But, some large Burrough; either falling from Her height; or, not unto her greatnesse come. If to thy Port I walkt; it mov'd remorse, To see how gr••atly, Trade and Intercourse Decayed there; and what depopulations, Were made in thy late peopled habitations. Thy Royall Change, which was the Randevow Wherein all Nations met, the whole world through, Within whose princely walls we heard the sound Of ev'ry Language spoke on Earths vast Round; And where we could have known what had bin done In ev'ry forraine Coast below the Sun: That Place, the City-Merchant, and the Stranger Avoyded as a place of certaine danger: And feared (as it seemes) they might have had Some bargain ther, that would have spoild their trade Thy large Cath••drall, whose decaying frame Thou leavest unrepaired to thy shame,

Had scarce a Walker in her middle Ile; And, ev'ry Ma••ble of tha•• ancient Pile, Did often drop, and seeme to shed forth teares, For thy late ruine, though thou sleightest hers. The time hath been, that once a day, from thence, We could have ••••d a large intelligence Of most occurences, that publique were. Y••a, many times we had▪ relations there, Of things, who••e foolish actors never thought Their deeds to open scanni••g should be brought. There, heard we oft made publique by report, What S••••resi••s were whisper'd in the Court. The Closet-Cou••sels, and the Chamber work, Which many thinke in privacy doth lurke. There heard we what those Lords, and Ladies were, Who m••t disguised, ••hey know when, and where. The••e ••eard we what they did, and what they said; And many foolish plots were there bew••ai••: There, heard we reasons, why such men were made Gre••t Lords and Knights, who no deserving had, In common view: and how gre••t Pr••nces eyes Are dazled ••nd abus'd wi••h fallacies. Th••re heard we for what G••f••s most Doctors rise, And gaine the Church••s ••ighest dignities. The truest causes also there we••e knowne, Why men advanced are, or pulled down. Why Officers are changed, or displaced; Why some confined are and some di••graced; And w••at amo••g the wise, those men doe seeme, That are great Stat••smen, in their owne es••eeme. Th••re we have heard, what Princ••s have intended, When they to doe s••me other thing p••e••ended. What Policies▪ and Projects, men pursue▪ With publique aymes, and with a pious s••ew.

Why from the Counsell one is turned out; What makes another counterfeit the gout, And many other mysteries beside, Whith hardly can the mentioning abide. But those Athenian Merc••antmen were gone, Who made exchange of Newes; and few or none To heare or make reports remained there. Yea they who scarce a day (as if they were Of Pauls the walking Statues) staid from thence Since LONDON felt the last great Pestilence, Ev'n they were gone; and those void Iles d••d look As if some properties had them ••orsooke. Our Theaters, our Tavernes, Tennis-courts, And Gaming houses whither great resorts Were w••nt to come; then, seldome were frequented: Not that such vanities we much repented; But, lest those places, which had follies taught us, Might some reward, unlooked for, have brought us. Where we with Pestilences of the ••oule Each other had polluted and made foule, Our bodies were infected; and our breat••s, VVhich had endanger'd our e••ernall de••t••s, (In former times) by uttring heresies, By ••candals, and by basest flatteries, Or wanton speeches; put••ifide the Ayre, The blood ev'n at the fountaine did impaire, To coole our lust▪ And they that were the bliss•••• Of some▪ mens lives, did poison them with kisses. The Ma••kets which a while before did yeeld What ayre, se••s, riv••rs, garden, wood, or field, To furnish them afforded; no•• had nought, But what some few in secret thither brought. For (as a foresaid) it was ordred so, That none should with p••ov••sions, come or goe.

So, like a Towne beleaguer'd thou didst fare, In some respect••: And, but that God had care By m••king others feele necessities Which forced them to minister supplies; Thou hadst beene famisht, or beene faine to b••ing Provisions in by way of forraging: And then their foolishnesse, had brought upon Those men, two mischiefes, who did feare but one. Hereafter ther••fore, practise well to use Those plenties thou didst he••etofore abuse; Lest God, ••gaine bereave thee of thy sto••e, And never so enlarge his bounty more. For, to co••rect thy Surfets, and Excesse, Thy sleighting of the poore, thy thanklesnesse, And such like sinnes; God wo••thily rest••ained Those plenties which thy pride and lust maintained. Thy Dwellings, f••om whose windowes I have se••n A thousand Ladies, that might Queenes have beene For bravery, and beauty: And, some far More faire then they that fam'd in Legends are. Those s••ood unpeopled, as those ••ouse•• doe Which Sprights, and Fairies doe reso••t unto. None to their closed wicke••s made repai••e; Their empty gasemen••s gaped wide for ayre; And where once foot clot••es and Ca••oches were Attending; now stood Coffi••s, and a Biere. Yea Coffins oftner past by ev'ry doore, Th••n Coaches, and Caroches, heretofo••e▪ To see a country Lady, or a Knight Among us then, had beene a•• rare a sigh•• As was that Elephant which came from Spaine, O•• some great Monster spewd out of the Maine. If by mischance the people in the street, A Courtier, or a Gentleman did meet,

They with as much amazement him did view, As if they had beheld the wand••ing ••ew. And, many, seeing me to keepe this place, Did looke as if they much bewaild my cas••, And h••l••e belee'vd that I was doomed hither, That (since close-prison, halfe a yeare together, Nor private wrongs, nor publique dis-respect, Could breake my heart, nor much the same deject) This Plague might kill me, which is come to whip Those faults which her••tofore my pen did strip. But here I walkt in safety to behold What changes, for instructio••, see I could. And, as I wandred on, my eye did meet, Those halfe built Pageants whi••h, a thwa••t the street, Did those triumphant Arches counterfeit, Which heretofore in ancient Rome were fet, When their victorious Generalls had thither The spoile of mighty kingdomes b••ought together. The loyall Citizens (••lthough they lost The glory of their well-intended cost) E••ected those great Structures to renowne The new receiving o•• the Sov'raigne Crowne By hopefull CHARLES (whose royall exaltation, Make thou oh! God, propitious to this Nation.) But when those works, imperfect, I beheld, They di•• new c••uses of sad musings yeeld, Portending ruine. And, did seeme, me thought, In honor of Deaths trophees to be wroug••t; Much rather, then from purposes to ••pring Which aymed at the honor of a King. For, their unpolisht forme, did make them fit For d••••efull Showes: yea, DEATH on them did sit. His Captives passed under ev••••y Arch; Among them, as in Triumph he did march;

Through ev'ry Street, upon mens backs were borne His Conquests. His b••ack Live••ies were wo••ne▪ In ev'ry House almost. Hi•• spoyles were brought To ev'ry Temple. Many Vaults were frau••ht With his new prizes And his followers grew To such a multitude, that halfe our Eugh, And all our Cypresse t••ees, could ha••dly lend him A branch for ev'ry one who did attend him. My Fancy did present to me that houre A glimpse of DEATH ev'n in his greatest power. Me thought I saw him, in a Charret ride, With all his grim companions by his side. Such as Oblivion, and Corruption be. Not halfe a step before him, ••ode these t••ree, (On Monsters backt) Paine, Horror, and Despaire: Whose fury, had not Faith, and Hope, and Pray'r, Prevented, through Gods m••rcy none had ever Escap'd Destruction by their best endevour. For, next to Death, came Iudgement: after whom, Hell w••th devou••ing lawes, did gaping come, To swallow all: But, she at One di•• snap, Who now, for many, hath made way to scape. Death's Carr, with many chaines, & ropes, & strings, And, by a mu••titude of severall th••ngs, As Pleasures, Passions, Cares, and such as they, VVas drawne along upon a beaten way, New gravell'd with old bones: and, Sin did seeme To be the formost Beast of all the Teeme: And, Sicknesse to be that whi••h haled next The Charret wheele; for, none I s••w betwixt. Time led the way; and, Iustice did appea••e, To sit before, and play the Chariote••r. For since our Sin to p••ll on Death begun, The whip of Iustice makes the Charret run.

There was of Trumpets, and of Drums the sound; But in loud cries, and roarings it was drown'd. Sad El••gies, and songs of Lamentation Were howled out; but, moved no compassion. Skulls, Coffi••s, Spades, and Mattocks placed were About the Charret. Crawling Wormes were there And whatsoever else might signifie Deaths nature, and weak mans mortalitie. Before the Cha••ret, such a multitude Of ev'••y Nation in the world I view'd, That neither could my eye so farre perceive, As they were th••onging; nor my heart conceive Their countlesse number. For, all those that were Since Abel dy'd, he drove before him there. And▪ of those thousands, dying long agoe, Some here and there, among them, I did know, Whose Vertues them in death distinguished (In spight of Death) from others of the dead. I saw them stand, me thought, as you shall see High spreading Oakes, which in ••el'd Copses be, O're-top the shrubs; and, where scarce two are found Of growth, within ten thousand ro•• of ground. O•• those who dy'd within the Age before This yeare, I sc••rce distinguished a score From Beasts, and Fowles, & Fishes. For, Death makes So little difference twixt the flesh he takes, That, into dust alike he ••urnes it all. And▪ if no vertue make distinction sh••ll, Those men who did of much in lifetime boast, Shall dying in the common heap be lost. But, of tho••e Captives which my fantasie Presented to my apprehensions eye To grace this Mon••r••es Triump••; most I heeded Those t••oups, which next before the Carr proceeded,

Ev'n those which in the circuit of this yeare, The prey of Death within our Iland were: It was an Army royall, which bec••me A King, and loe, King IAMES did lead the same. The Duke of Richmond, and his onely brother The Duke of Lenox, seconded each other. Next ••hem, in this attendance follow'd on That noble Sco••, the Marquis Hammilton, Sou••hampton, Su••folke, Oxford, Nottingham, And Holdernesse, their Earledomes leaving, came To wait upon this Triumph. There I saw Some rev'rend Bishops, and some men of Law, As Winchester, and Hubbard, and I know not Who else▪ for to their memories I owe not So much as here to name them: nor doe I Vpon me take to mention punctually Their order of departing, nor to sweare That all of these fell just within the yeare. For of the time if somewhat I doe misse, The matter sure, not much materiall is. Some Barons and some Viscounts, saw I too▪ Zouch, Bacon, Chichester, and others moe, Whose Titles I forg••t. There fol••ow'd then Some Officers of note; some Aldermen; Great store of Knights, and Bu••gesses, with whom A couple marcht, that had the Shcriff••dome Of London that sad yeare: the one of which In Piety and Vertue dy'd so rich, (If his surviving fame may ••e beleeved) That for his losse the City much hath grieved. To be an honor to him, here, therefore I fixe the name of Crisp, which name he bore: And I am hopefull it shall none offend, The Muses doe this right unto their friend.

Some others also of great state and place, To me no•• knowne by office, name, nor face, Made up the concou••se. But, the common Rabble To number or distingu••sh, none was able. For, rich and poore, men, women, old and yong, So fast and so confusedly did throng; By strokes of Death, so markt, so gastly wounded, So thrust together, and so much confounded Among that glut of people, which from hence Were sent among them, by the Pestilence, That possible it was not, to descry Or who or what they were who passed by. Yet, now and then, me thought, I had the view Of some who much resembled those I knew. And▪ faine I would the favour have pro••u••ed To keepe their Names from being quite obscured Among the multitude. But, they were gone Before the meanes could well be thought upon. And passe they must for aye, unknowne of me: For, this was but a waking Dreame, I see. These Fancies▪ Melancholy often bred: Yea, many such like Pageants in my head My working apprehension did beget, According to those objects which I met. Some, full of comfort, able to relieve The heart wh••m dread••ull thoughts did over-grieve. Some full of horror▪ such as they have had (It I mistake nor) th••t grow desp'rate mad. Some, like to their illusions, who in s••ead Of being humbled in this place of dread▪ Are puffed up by their deliverance: And being full of dangerous a••rogance, Abuse t••eir soules, with vaine imaginations, Ill-grounded hopes, suggested revelations,

And such like toyes, which in their hearts arise From their owne Pride, and Sathans fallacies. Some, such as these I had; and other some, Which cannot be by words expressed from My troubled heart. And, if I had not got Gods hand, to help untie the••r Gordian-k••ot; His presence, my bold reas'nings to controule; To curb my passion; to informe my soule; My faith to strengthen; doubtings to abate; And so to comfort, ••nd to arbitrate, That I m••ght see I was of him beloved, (Though me with many sec••et ••eares he proved) Su••e, in my selfe, some Hell I had invented, Wher endless thoughts, & doubts, had me tormented. But, God those depths hath show'd me, that I might See ••hat we cary in our selves to fright Our selves withall And what a hell of feare Is in our ve••y soules, till he be there. Ev'n when I had the b••ight••••sse of the day, To chase my melancholy thoughts away, I was to musings troublesome disposed, As well as when the da••knesse me enclosed; Th••t, by experiments, w••ich reall are, Those horrors which to others oft appeare (And are not demonstrable) might in part Be felt in me, to mollifie my heart; To stir up hearty thankfuln••sse; and make My soule, in him the greater pleasure take. For frō those prospects, & those thoughts that g••ieve me, I, those ext••actions make that much releeve me. And when my inward combatings a••e past, It give••h to my joyes the sweeter tast. But leaving th••s, I will againe returne To that for which the people soonest mourne.

I lookt along the Streets 〈◊〉〈◊〉 chiefest trade; And, there, perpetuall Holiday they made. They that one day in sev'n could not forbeare From trading; had not one in halfe a yeare. And, all which some had fro•• their childhood got, The charges of their flight defrayed not. To m••ke the greedy Cormorant regard The Sabbath more, and of ill gaines affear'd. False wa••es, fal••e oathes, false measures, and false weights, False promises, a••d ••alsified lights, Were punisht with false hopes, false joyes, false fears, False servants, and false frien••s, to them, and theirs. The•• who of late their neighbours did contemne, Had not a neig••bour le••t to comfort them, W••en neighbourhood was need••ull Such as were Selfe-love••s, by th••mselves remained here; And w••nted those contentments, which arise, Fro•• Christian Love, and mutuall Amities. Mo••t Trades were tradefaln, & few Merchāts thriv'd, Save those men, who by Death and Sicknesse, liv'd. The Sextons, Searchers, they that Corpses ca••ie, The Herb-wife, Drugg••st, and Apothecarie, Phy••itians, Surgeons, Nurses, Co••••in-makers, Bold Mounteb••nckes, and shamelesse undertakers, To cure the Pe••t in all; these, rich become: And what we pray to be delivered from Was their advantage. Yea, the worst of these Grew stout, and fat, and proud by this disease. So••e, vented refuse w••res, at three times more, Than what is best, was prized at before. Some set upon their labours such high rates▪ As passed Reason: so, they whose estates 〈◊〉〈◊〉 faile of reaching to a price so high, Were faine to perish without remedy.

Some, wolvishly, did prey upon the quick, Some, theevishly, purloyned from the sick. Some robb'd the dead of sheets, some, of a grave, That there another guest may lodging have: Yea, Custome had so hardned most of them, That they Gods Iudgements wholly did contemne. They, so hard-hearted, and so stupid grew, So dreadlesly their course they did pursue, Yea so they flouted, and such jests did make At that, for which each Christian heart did ake, That greater were the Plague their mind to have, Then of the Pestilence to lye and rave. Now muse I not at what Thucidides Reporteth of such wicked men as these, When Athens was depopulated nigh By such a Pestilence. Nor wonder I, That when the Plague did this time sixty yeare Oppresse the Towne of Lyons, that some there Were said to ravish women, ev'n when death Was drawing from the•• their last gaspe o•• breath. And when infectious B••aines on them th••y saw, Which ••ight have kept their lustfull flesh in awe. For man once hardned in impenitence, Is left unto a reprobated sense. Till God shall s••nct••fie i••, weale, nor woe, Can make us feare him as we ought to doe. His love made wanton Is••'••l ••purne at him; His plagues made Phar'oh, his sharpst rod contemn: And as the Sun from dunghils, and from sinks, Produceth nothing but ranck weeds, and s••inks; Yet makes a Garden of well-tilled ground, With wholesome fruits, and fragrant flowres abound: Or, as in bruising, one thing senteth well, Another yeelds a loathsome, stifling smell;

So, Plagues and Blessings, their effect•• declare, According as their sev'rall objects are. Indeed, my young experience never saw, So much security, and so much awe Dwell both together in one place, as here In this mortality, there did appeare. I am perswaded, time and place was never In which afflicted men did more endevor By teares, vowes, prayers and true penitence, To paci••••e Gods wra••h for ••heir offence. Nor ever was it seene, I think, before, That men in wickedness•• presumed more. Here you should meet a man with bleared eyes, Bewailing our encreasing miseries; Another there▪ quite reeling drunk▪ o•• spewing, And by renewed sins, o••r woes renewing There sate a peece of sh••melesnesse, whose flaring Attires and looks, did show a monstrou•• daring: For, in the postures of true impu••ence, She seem'd as if she woo••d the Pestilence Yonn talkt a couple, ma••ter worth your hearing: Hard by, were others, telling lyes, or sw••aring. Some st••eets had Ch••rches full of people, weeping: Some others, Tavernes had, rude-revell keepin••: Within some houses Psalmes and Hymnes wer sung: W••th raylings, and loud scouldings, others rung. More C••arity, did never, yet, appeare: Nor more maliciousnesse, then we had here. True piety was ominentl•• knowne; H••po••risie as evidently showne. More avarice, mor•• gapers for the wealth O•• such as dy'd; no former times of health Afforded us; nor men of larger heart, ••hings need••ull for their brethren, to impart.

Their masters goods, some servants lewdly spent, In nightly feastings, foolish merriment, And lewd uncleannesse. O••her some againe, Did such an honest carefulnesse ••etaine, That their endeavo••s had a good successe, And, Man, and Master m••t with joyfulnesse. Yea, Good and Evill, penitence and sin Did here so d••ive each other out and in; That in observing it, I saw, me thought, In sight of Heav'n, a d••ead••ull Comb••t fought Concerning this whole Iland, which yet lyes, To be Gods purchas••, or the Devil•• prise. Vice wounded V••rtue; Vertue o't co••peld The strongest Vices to forsake the field. Distrust rais'd up a storme, to drive ••way Sure-helpe, our ship, which at Hopes anchor la••; And brought supplies with ev'ry winde and tyde, Whereby this Land was fed and fo••tifi••d. The Fort of Faith, was plaid on by D••spai••e: But then the gun-shot o•• continuall-Pray'r (Well aym'd ••t Heav'n) Devotion so did ply, That, he dismounts the Foes Artillery. The Spirit and the Flesh together strive, And, oft each other into perill drive. Presumption, huge high Scaling ladders, r••ared, And then the taking of our Fort was feared. But awfull Reverence did him oppo••••, And with Humilities de••pe Trench enclose The Platforme of that Fortresse, from whose Towres We fight with Principalities, and Pow'rs. Suggestion lay pur due by Contemplation, And sought to disadvantage M••ditation. The Regiment of Prudence was assailed, By head-strong Ignorance, who much prevailed

Where Temperance was quarter'd, there I saw Excesse and Riot, both together draw Their troups against her: and, I some espy'd To yeeld, and overcome on either side▪ The place that v••liant Fortitude made good, Faint-heartednesse (though out of sight he stood) Did cowardly oppose, and courses take, Which otherwhile his Constancy did shake. For Carnall policy her Engineer, Had closely suncke a Mine which had gone neere To blow all up. But Providence divine Did soone prevent it by a Counter-mine. Yet Morall-Iustice (though a Court o•• Gu••rd Was plac'd, and oft r••leeved in her Ward) Had much adoe to m••ke a strong defence Against her Foes. For, Fraud, and Violence, Respect of persons, Feare, Hate, Perjury, Faire-speaking, and corrupting Brib••ry, Did wound her much; though she did often take Avengement; and o•• some, examples make. Some Vices, there, I saw themselves disguise Like Vertues, that their Foes they might surprise; As doe the Dunkirks, when aboord to lay Our ships, an English flag they do display. Pride went for Come••••nesse: profuse Excesse, For Hospitality: base Drunkennesse Was call'd Good fello••ship: blunt Rashnesse came Attyr'd li••e Valour: Sloth had got the name Of Quietnesse: accursed Avarice, Was term'd Good husbandry. Meere Cowardice Appear'd like prudent Warinesse, and might Have passed for a very valiant wight. Yea, ev'ry Vice, to gaine his purpose, had So••e ma••kes o•• vertue-like disguise•• made▪

And, many times, such hellish plo••s were laid, Th••t divers morall Vertues were gainsaid, Defam'd, pursu'd, and wounded by their owne; Whose glory had no•• else beene overthrowne. ••ust-de••ling hath beene tooke for Cruelty: Pure-love for Lust: upright Integri••y For cu••ning Falsh••od: yea, divinest Graces Have beene at variance brought in divers Cases, (By wicked Stratagems) that vaine Inventions, M••ght frustrate pious workes, and good intentions. To furthe•• stri••e, great Quarrels broached are, Twixt Faith and Workes. There is another j••r Begun erewhile, betwixt no worse a pai••e, Then Preachin••, and her blessed Sister Pray'r. God grant they m••y agree; for, I ••e're knew A quiet Church, but where they kept one Pew. Faith and Repentance also are, of late, About their Birth-rig••t fallen at d••bate. But by the Church-bookes it appeares to me Their Bir••hs and their Conceptions mention'd be Without such nice regard to their precedings, As some have urged in their needlesse pleadings. And, so it pleas'd the Father, Sonne and Spirit: Because that Law by which they shall inherit The promist meed; doth never question move, How soone or late, but how sincere they prove. Moreover, in this ••attell I espy'd Some Ambodexters, fight on either side. The Moralist, who all Religion wants; Church-Papists; Time-observing Protestants. All Double-dealers▪ Hypocrites, and such Base Neutrals, who have scandalized much, And much endanger'd those who doe contend This ••le, from desolation, to defend.

Beside these former Combatants, which fought Against or for us; I perceiv'd, me thovght, Both good and evill Angels fi••hting too, The one, to help; the other, ha••me to doe. And though thi•• battell yet appeareth not To common view, so cru••ll nor so hot As I conceive it: yet it will appeare To all in time, with comfort, or with feare. For, s••ill, and ev'ry day, those enemies Stand a••m'd and watc••ing opportunities To seiz•• us; and will seize us, if th••s•• times Shall make complete the measure of our Crimes; Or our continuing ••ollies drive away Our Ange••l G••ard, which doth our ••all delay. Oh st••y them Lord! and make that side the stro••ger, For whom this Lan•• sh••ll yet be sp••••ed longer. And let us, my dea••e C••untrimen, with speed, Of that which so conce••neth us, take h••••d. Obse••ve, thou famoust City of this L••nd, How h••avily on thee God layes his hand. The very rumor of this Plague did make The fa••th••st dwellers of this Ile to shak••: And such a sent of D••ath they seem'd to c••ry, Who in o•• nea••e about thy Climat•• tary, That, from the Mount to Ba••w••ck they were hated, Or shunn'd, as persons excommunicated. ••nd three weekes ayring on old Sarum plaine, Woul•• ••••arce a lodging for a brother gaine. Yea, mark, ma••k London, and confesse with me, That God ••at•• justly thus afflicted thee, And that in ev'ry point this Plague hath bin According to the nature of thy sin. In thy prosperity, such was thy pride, That thou the Countries plainn••sse didst deride.

Thy wanton Children would oft straggle out, At honest husban••men to jeere and flou••. Their homely garments, did offend thine eyes: They did their rurall Dia••ect•• despise▪ Their games and merriments (which for them, be As commendable, as are thine for thee) Thou laughedst at: their gestures, and their fashions, Their very diet, an•• their habitations Were sported at: yea, those ingratefull Things, Did scoffe them for their hearty Welcomings; And taught ev'n those that had been country-born The wholesome places of their birth to scorne. And, see, now see, those thanklesse ones are faine To seeke their fathers thatched Roofes againe; And, aske those good old women blessing, whom They did not see, since they did rich become; And never would have seene, perhaps, unlesse This Plague had whipped their ingratefulnesse. Yea, thine owne naturall Children have beene glad To scrape acquaintance where no friends they had; To praise a homely, and a sm••ky Shed; A darke low Parlour, an unea••••e Bed; An ill drest di••t; yea, perchance, commend A chu••lish Landlord, for an honest Friend; Yet be contented bo••h to pray and pay, That they may leave obtaine with him to stay. And peradventure, some of those who plaid The scoffers hereto••ore, were fully pai••. Th••n, Citizens were sha••k••, and prey'd upon, In recompence of wrong•• before time done To silly Countrim••n; and were defeated Of ••ha••, whereof, some Rusticks, they had cheated. Moreover, for the Countries imitations Of thy fantastick, vaine, and fruitlesse fashions,

(Of thy apparell, and of thy excess•• In Feasts, in Games, in Lust, in Idlenesse; With such abominations) some of those Who came from thee, shall doubtlesly dispose To ev'ry Shire a Viall of that wrath, Which thy transgression long deserved hath: That, thou and they, who sinners were together, May Rods be made to punish one another; And give each other bitterness•• to sup, As you have joyntly quaft of Pleasures Cup. As to and fro I walked, that I might On ev'ry ruthfull Object fix my sight, Vpon those Golgatha's I cast mine eye, Where all the comm••n people buried lye. Lie buried did I say? I should have said, Where C••rkasses to bury Graves were laid. Lord! what a sight was there? & what strong smells Ascended from among Death's loathsome Cells? You scarce could make a little Infants bed In all those Plots, but you should pare a head, An arme, a shoulder, or a leg away, O•• one or other who there buried lay. One grave did often many scores enclose Of men and women: and, it may be those That could not in two Parishes agree, Now in one little roome at quiet be. Yonn lay a heape of skulls; another there; Here, halfe unburied did a Corpse appeare. Close by, you might have seene a brace of feet That had kickt off the rotten winding-sheet. A little further saw we othersome, Thrust out th••ir armes for want of elbow roome. A locke of womans hayre; a dead mans face Vncover'd; and a gastly sight it was.

Oh! here, here v••ew'd I what the gl••ries be Of pamper'd flesh: here plainly did I see How grim those ••eauties will e're long appeare, Which we so dote on, and so cove••, here. Here was enough to coole the hottest flame Of lawlesse lust. Here, was enough to tame The ma••st ambition. And, all they that goe Vnbetter'd from such objects; worse doe grow. From hence (fo•• here was no abiding long) Our Allies and our Lanes, I walkt among, Where those Artificers their dwel••ings had, By whom our idle Traders rich are made. The Plague rav'd there indeed. For, who were they Whom th••t Contagion fastest swept away But those whose d••ily lab'••ing hands did feed Their honest Families? and greatly steed This place by their mechanick industries? These are the swarmes of Bees, w••ose painfull thighes Bring Wax unto this Hive; and from whose bones The Honey drops, that feedeth many Drones. These are the Bulwarks of this ••enselesse Towne, And when this Wall of Bones is overthrowne, Our stately Dwellings, now both faire and tall, Will quickly, of themselves, to ruine fall. Of these, and of t••eir housholds, dai••y dy'd Twice more then did of all sorts else beside; And hungry Poverty (without reliefes) Did much inrag•• and multipliply their griefes. The Rich could flye; or, if they staid, they had Such meanes that their disease the lesse was made▪ Yea, those poore aged folkes that make a show Of greatest need, did boldly come and goe, To aske mens Almes▪ or what their Parish granted; An•• nothing at this time those people wanted,

But thankfulnesse▪ lesse malice to ea••h other; A••d grace to live more quietly together. Their bodies, d••y'd with age, were seldome struck By this Disease▪ Their neighbours notic•• took Of all their wants. Among them, were not many That had ••ull fam••lies. Or if that any Of these had children sick; some good supplies Were sent them from the generall Charities. Moreover, common Beggers are a nation Not alwayes keeping in one habitation. They can remove as time occasion brings: They have their progresses as well as King; And most of these, when hence the rich did goe, Remov'd themselves into the Country too. The rest about our streets did ask their bread, And never in their lives, were fuller fed. But, those good people mentioned before, Who, till their worke did faile them, fed the poore As well as others; and maintained had Great families, by ••ome laborious trade: Ev'•• those di•• suffer most. For, neither having Provision left them, nor the face o•• craving; Nor meanes of labour: First, to pawne they sent Their brasse and pewter: t••en, their bedding went. Their garments next▪ or stuffe of best esteeme: At length, ev'n that which should the rest redeeme, Their working Instruments. When that was gone, Their Lease was pawned, if it might be done. And peradventure, at the last of all, These things were sold outright for sums but small▪ Or else quite forfeited. For, here were they Who made of these poore soules, a gainfull prey. And as one Plague had on the li••e a pow'r, So did these other Plagues, their goods devoure.

When all was gone, afflicted they became With secret griefes, with poverty, and shame. And, wanting cheerfull minds, and due refection, Were seized on, the soone••, by Infection: For, hearts halfe broke, and housholds fa••••isht neare▪ Are quickly spent, when visited they are. The carefull Master, though it would have saved A servants life, to get him what he craved, No kinde of Med'cine able was to give him; Nay scarce with bread and water to relieve him▪ The tender hearted Mother, hath for meat Oft heard her dearest child, in vaine, intreat; And had or foure or five on point of dying At once, for drink to ease their torment, crying. The loving husband sitting by her side, To save whose life he gladly would have dy'd, Vnable was out of his whole estate, To purchase her a dram of Mithridate; One messe of Cordiall broth, or such like thing, Although it might prevent her perishing. Sometime, at such a need, abroad they came, To aske for helpe; but, then, the feare of shame, Of scorne, or of deni••ll, them with-held To put in practice, what their want compell'd. Vpon an Evening (when the wa••ning light Was that which could be call'd nor day nor night) I met with one of these, who on me cast A ••ut••full eye: and a•• he by me past, Me thought, I heard him, softly, somewhat say, As if that he for some reliefe did pray: Whereat (he seeming in good cloth••s to be) I staid, and askt him, if he spake to me. He bashfully replyed; that, indeed He was asham'd to speake aloud, what Need

Did make him softly mutter▪ Somewhat more He would have spoken, but his tongu•• forbore To tell the re••t; b••cause his eyes did see Their teares had (almost) drawne fo••th tears frō me, And that my hand was ready to bestow That helpe which my poore fortunes could allow▪ Nor his, nor all me••s tongues, coul•• mo••e relate, Then I my selfe conceiv'd of hi•• estate. Me thou••ht, I saw, as if I had beene there, What w••nts in his, and such mens houses were; How empty, and how naked it became▪ How nasty, Poverty h••d made the same▪ Me thou••ht I saw, how sick•• his wife mightlye; Me thought I heard his halfe sta••v'd children cry; Me thou••••t I felt, with what a broken heart He lookt upon t••em, e're he could depart To try, i•• (by Gods ••avour) he could meet With any meanes of comfort in the street. And, Lord my God, thou know'st, that, when alone The griefes of such as these, I mused on; My pitie I with watry eye•• have showne, And more bewail'd their sorrowes, then my owne▪ But, since those Dewes are vaine that ••ruitlesse be; And since the share that is allotted me▪ Of this worlds heritage, will not ••uffice To bring relie••e to these mens miseries; Oh! let my teares (ye ri••h men) make your ground With fruits of Charity the more abound. Let me intreat you, tha••, when God shall bring Vpon this place, another Visiting, You would remember, some reliefe to send To those, who on t••eir labours doe depend, And have not got their impudence of ••ace, Who idlely beg their bread from place to place.

God, you the S••ewards of his g••ods doth make, And how you use them, he accou••t will take. It will not be enough, that you have paid The publique taxes on your houses laid; Or that▪ you, now and then, doe send a summe To be disposed, to you know not whom: But, you yo••r selves, must, by your selves alone, Those neighbour••, o•• acqu••intance think upon, Who likeliest are in such a time of need, To want of t••at, whe••ein you do exceed: And, if you know of none, enquire them out; Or leave some honest neigbour thereabout, To be your Alm'ner (when the Towne you leave) That, yo••, and they, a Blessing may receive▪ For, if that ev'ry weal••hy man w••uld find But one, or two, to cherish in this kind: Gods wrat•• would much the better be appeased, And we should of our plagues be sooner eased As I request the Richer men to take This pious course; A suit, I likewise m••ke That our inferiour Tradesmen, would not so Abuse their times of profit, as they doe. For, most of those doe live at rates as high, As all their gaines (at utmost) will supply. Yea, many times they mount above t••e tops Of present fortunes, and ensuing hopes: That, if a sicknesse, or unlook'd for Crosse, Or want of trade, or any slender losse, But for a Yeare, a Qu••rter, or a Terme, Befalls them: it soone maketh so infirme Their over-strain'd Estates; that Almes are neede••, Ere any failin••s are by others heeded. Of these, and other things I notions gained, Whilst in our sickly Citie I remained;

And much I contemplated what I saw, Some profitable uses thence to draw. But, feeling that my thought•• nigh 〈◊〉〈◊〉 were, With over-musing on those objects there: I thought to walke abroad into the ••••eld, To take those comforts, which f••esh ayre doth yeeld; And, to revive my heart, which heavy grew, With what the streets did offer to my view; But little ease I found; for, there mine eye•• Discover'd Sorrow in a new disguise: And in so many shapes, himselfe he shewed, That, still my passion was afresh renewed. Her••, dead upon the Roade, a man did lye, That was (an houre before) as well, as 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ There, sate another, who did thither come In health, but had not strength to beare him home. Yonn, spraul'd a third, so sicke, he did not know Fro•• whence he came, nor whither he should goe. A little further off, a fourth did creepe Into a ditch, and there his Obit keepe. Abo••t the Fields ran one, who being fled (In spite of his attendance) from his bed, Lookt like a Lunatique from Bedlem broken; And, though of health he had no hopefull token; Yet, t••at he ailed ought, he would not yeeld, Till Death had, stru•• him dead upon the field. This way, a Str••nger by hi•• Host expel••ed, That way, a Servant (shut from where he dwelled) Came weakly stagg'ring fo••th, and (crush'd beneath Diseases, and unkindnes••e) sought for Death; Which soone was f••••nd and glad was he, they say, Who for his Death-••ed gain'd a Cock of Hay At this crosse pa••h, were Bearers fetching home A Neighbour, who in health did thither come:

Close by, were others digging up the ground, To hide a stranger whom they dead had found. Before me, went with Corpses, many a one; Behinde, as many mo did ••ollow on, VVith runnin•• sores, one begg'd at yonder gate: At next Lanes end, another Lazar sate. Some halted, as if wounded in the wars; Some held their necks awry, some shew'd their scars▪ Some, met I weeping, for the losse of friends; Some others, for their swift approching ends; And ev'ry thing with sorrow was affected, On whatsoe're it was mine eye reflected. The Prospect, which was wont to greet mine eye With showes of pleasure in variety, (And lookt, as if it cheerfully did smile, Vpon the bordring Villages, ere while.) Had no such pleasingnesse as heretofore, For ev'ry place, a mask of sorrow wore. The walks are unfrequented, and the path Late trodden bare, a grassie Carpet hath. I could not see (of all t••ose Gallants) one That visited Hide-par••e, and Mary-borne. None w••ndred through the pastures, up and downe▪ But, as about some pe••ty Country towne: Nor could I view in many Summers dayes, One man of note to ride upon our wayes. Lord, w••at a d••ff••rence did••t thou put betweene That Summer, and the rest that I have seene! How didst thou change our Fi••lds! and what a face Of Sadnesse, didst thou set upon each place! Yet oh! how few remember it, or feele The touches of it, on their hearts of s••eele! And when our banisht ••••i••h thou didst renew, Who did returne to thee the praises due?

What others apprehended, they know best; But if it could be fully here exp••e•••• What of that alteration I conceiv'd▪ When of their pleasures, God our fields bereav'd; It would much mo••e be minded: For they had Nought in them, but what moved to be sad. Not many weekes, before, it was not so. But, ••leasures, had their passage to and fro. Which way so••ver from our Gates I went, I lately did behold with much content, The fields bestrow'd with people all about: Some paceing homeward, ••nd some passing out. Some, by the bancks of ••hame their pleasure taking; Some, Sulli-bibs, among the Milk-maids, making; With musique, some upon the waters, rowing; Some, to t••e next adjoyning Hamlets going; And Hogsdone, Islington, and Tethnam-Court, For Cakes and Creame▪ had then no small resort. Some, sate and woo'd their Love••s in the shadowes; Some, straggled to and fro athwart the meadowes; Some, in discourse, their houres, away did passe; Some, playd the toyish w••ntons on the grasse; Some, of Religion; some of bus'nesse talked; Some coached were▪ some horsed; and some walked. Here Citizens; there Students, many a one; Here ••wo together; and, yonn one alone. Of Nymphs and Ladies. I have often ey'd A thousand walking at one Evening tide; As many Gentleman: and yong and old Of meaner sort, as many▪ ten times told. And, when I did from some high Towre survey The Rod••s, and Paths, which round below me lay, Obser••ing how each passage thronged was W••••h men and Cattell, which both wayes did passe;

How many petty path••, both far and neare, With rowes of people sti••l suppl••ed were; What infinite provision still came in, And what abundance hath exported bin; Me thought this populous City and the trade Which we from ev'ry Coast about her had, Was well resembled by an A••t-h••ll, which (In some old Forrest) is made lar••e, and ••ich By those laborious creatures, who have thither Brought all their wealth, and Coloni••s together. For, as their peopled Borrough ha••h resort From ev'ry quarter, by a severall Port, And from each Gate thereof a great Rode hath That branches into many a little Path; And, as those Negroes doe not on••ly fill Each great and lesser t••act unto th••ir hill, But, also, spread them••elves out of those wayes, Among the grasse, the leaves, and bushy sprayes: Ev'n s••, ••he people here, did come and goe Through our large Rodes; disperse themselves into A thousand passages; and, often stray O're neighbouring Pastures, in a pathlesse way. This, formerly I saw; and, on that Station, Where this I markt; I had this Contemplation. How happy were this People, did they know What rest, our God upon them did bestow! On us, what show••es of blessings hath he rained, Which he from other Cities hath restrained? And, from how many mischiefes hath be freed us▪ Which ••all on those that in good workes exceed us▪ Here lurke no ravenous Beasts to make a prey On those fat C••ttell which these Fields o're-lay. Within our Gro••es no cruell Out-lawes hide, That in the blood of passengers are dy'd.

Our Lambs, unworry'd, lye abroad, benighted; By day, our Virgins walke the Fields unfrighted. No neighbouring Country doth our food forestall; No Convoyes need to come and g••e withall; No forraine Prince can sudd••••ly appall us, For Seas doe mote us, and huge Rocks doe wall us. No rotten Fennes doe make our ayre unsound; No Foe, doth with a trench enclose us round. We neither tumults have by night or d••y, Nor rude unruly Garisons in pay. No Taxes, yet, our Land doth over-load: Our Children are not prest for warres abroad. From Spanish Inquisitions we ar•• free; (God grant that we, for ever, so may be) We are compeld to no Idolatries; Our people doe not in rebellions rise: No sactious spirits much disturbe the State; No Plagues, our dwellings, yet, dep••pulate. No Rots or Murraines have our Cattell kild: Our Barnes and Store-house••, with fruits are fild: On ev'r•• thr••sh••ld, store o•• children play; Our breeding Cattell fill both street and way. And, were we thankefull unto him that gave them, There are no blessings, but we here might have them. See, how like Bees upon a Summer-Eve, (When their young Nymphes have ove••-fill'd the hive) They swarme about the City, sporting so, As if a winter gale would never blow. How little d••e they dreame, how many times, While ••hey deserved ruine for their Crimes, God, naitheless••, hath shewed mercies on them, And s••opt those Plagues that comming were upon them! How seldome is it thought, the pow'r of him, ••hose love they much forg••t (if not contemne)

Might heape upon t••em all t••ose fea••full things, Which he upon our neig••bouring Nations brings. For, in a moment, he could s••mmon hither His Iudgements, and inflict them, all together. Ev'n all. B••t, one of those which he hath brought On other Cities, would enough be thought. If in displeas••re ••e should call from thence Where now it r••ves, the slaugh••ring Pest••lence, Or else the Famine▪ what a change ••ere that, To them that are so healthy, ••nd so fat? How desolate, in lesse t••en halfe a yeare, Might all our lodgin••s and o••r streets appeare? How unfrequented would that randevow Be m••de, in which, we throng, and just ••e now? How lonely would these walk••s and fi••lds be found, Wherein I s••e the people s•• abound? Or, should ••e w••istle for his armed Bands, (Which now are wasting ••ther Christian Lands) To put in action on our Commick Stage The Tragedies of VVar, and bru••••sh rage: What lamentations then here would be made, And calling unto minde, what peace we had? Should we in ev'ry house▪ at boord and bed Have So••ldiers and rude Captaines bille••ed, That would command, and swagger as if they Had all the Towneship (where they lodge) in pay, To w••it upon their pleas••res; and should see Our owne defenders, our devourers be. Should we behold these Fields (now full of sport) Cut out with T••enches; there, a warlike Fort; Another here; A Sconce not farre from that; A new rais'd Mount, or some fire-spitting Cat, From which the Foes our actions might survey, And ma••e their B••llets on our houses play.

Should we behold our Dwellings beaten downe; Our Temples batter'd; Turrets over throwne; Our seats of pleasure b••rning from afarre; Heare, from without, the thundring voice of War▪ Within, the shriekes of children, or the cry Of women, strucke with feares, or famisht nigh. Should we behold, what painfully we got, Possest by those that seeke to cut our thr••at; Our children slaine befor•• us, on the ground; Our selves pierc't through with some deep mortall wound; And see (••v'n there) where we have wantonniz'd, Our beau••eous wives, by some sterne Troup surpriz'd, And ravisht in our view. Or (which is worse) When we have seen all this, be forc't perforce To live; and live their slaves that shall possesse Our wives, and all our ou••ward happinesse; And, then, want also, that pure Word of Grace To comfort us, which yet adornes this place. Should such a Destiny (as God d••fend) This people, and this place, thought I, attend. (For, this may be; and ev'ry day we heare That other Nations doe this burthen b••are) Should we who now for pleasure walke the field, Be saine to search what weeds the pastures yeeld To feed us; and peake hungerly about, Some Roots, or Hawes, or Berries to finde out, To keepe from starving; and not gaine a food So meane, without the hazard of our blood: Should some contagious sicknesse, nois••me make This place, wherein, such pleas••re now we take: Should in these places, whither we repaire Our bodies to refresh with wholesome ayre, Those blastings or Serenes upon us fall, Which other places are anoy'd withall.

Should from the wife the husband be divorc'd, Or from the parent should the child be forc'd, While here they walk••, and perish by the sword: Or, should here be a famine of the Word, On which would follow, to our griefe and shame, A thousand other Plagues which I could name. Should th••se things be; then w••at our blessings are It would by such a curse too soone appeare. Then, fe••le we should, what comforts might arise From those great mercie••, which we now despise, Or think not on. Yea, so we might enjoy But part of that which now we mis-employ, We thi••ke it would, a greater happinesse, Then, yet we finde in all we now possesse. We then should know how much we have b••ene blest In our long time of plenty▪ health, and rest: How sweet it is that we may to and fro Without restraint, or feare, or danger goe; How much we owe to him that hath so long Our Granards filled, and our Gates made strong; Permitting us to walke for our delight About our fields, whilst others march to fight; And s••ffring us to least, whilst others fast, Or, of the bread of sowre Affliction tast. As heretofore the peopled Fields I walked, To this effect, my thoughts within me talked; And though all present Objects gave cont••nt, My heart did such Ideaes represent Of Iudgements likely to be cast upon So great a City, and a sinfull one; That much I feared, I should live to see, Some such afflictions, as here mention'd be. And loe, (though yet, I hope, not in his wrath) God, part of that I fear'd, inflicted hath:

A warning War he hath begun to wage Against the crying sinnes of this our age, And of this place: And in a gentle wise Pour'd out a taste of those Calamities Which other feele at large: that, we should mourn•• For our transgressions, and to him retu••ne. Vouchsafe, oh! God, that soone returne we may, Lest thou, in anger, sweepe us all away. If we observed, well, what God hath done, And in what manner, he with us begun; How he forewarn'd us of those Plagues, which he Vouchsafed David should a chus••r be: (And how, ev'n he himselfe, in mercy chused, To keepe us from what David had refused) We should perceive, that our most loving God At first did threaten, with a Fathers rod. A little while before this Pestilence, Of his just wrath we had in••elligence By divers tokens▪ which we did contemne, O••, at the best, but little heeded them. The Spring before this Plague, one jerke we had By WAR, which made no little number sad, By calling many from their ease; by taking Some husbands from their wives, & childless making Some Parents: which permitted was to show us In part, what sha••pe corrections God did owe us. And make us minde, that this unhallow'd place Is thus long spared meerly of his grace. Else, to awake us with some touch of that Which he hath brought on many a forraine State. For, that he might but touch us, he did call No Armies hither, to affl••ct us all. But, as a Generall in time of war, When all his Troupes of somewhat guilty are;

On them the fo••tune of the lot doth try, That some as warnings to the rest may dye: Ev'n so, the God of Armies, in like case, Pickt, here and there a man, f••om ev'ry place, To meet the sword: that, ev'ry place might learne, His Mercies, and his Iustice to discerne, And, leave off sinne; which, if we breake not from, His Plague••, and terrors all, w••ll shortly come. If any shall object, we lost in these But some corrupted blood, which did disease The common Body: Let them under••tand, That it portends hot Fevers in the Land, When suc•• Phl••botomy is needfull thought: And, that, good blood, as well as what is nought, Is lost at ev'ry op••ni••g of a veine. The foot was prickt, and we did feele no paine; The next blood letting may be in the Arme, Where lyes our s••rength▪ God shend us frō the harm Of such like Surgery; unlesse we see The Signe be better then it seemes to be. God scar'd us, lately, also, by a Dearth, And for the peoples faults did curse the Earth. The Winter last before the Pes•• began, Throughout some No••••herne Shires a Famine ranne, That starved some; and other some were faine, Their hungry appetites to entertaine With swine, and sheep, and horses, which have dy'd By chance: For, better coul•• they not provide. Some others on boild nettles gladly fed, Or else had oft gone supperlesse to bed. And this was much, considering the soile And o••dinary plenties of this Ile. Nay, since the Si••knesse, we small hope•• p••ssessed, Of ••hat, wherewith, this Ki••g••om, God hath blessed.

For, when Earths wombe did big with plenty grow, When her large bosome, and full brests, did show Such signe•• of faire encrease, that hope of more Was never in our life-times, heretofore: A later frost, our early blossomes cropt; The heav'ns, upon our labour••, leannesse dropt; An•• such perpetu••ll showres, and flouds we had, That o•• a Famine, we were fearfull made, And scarce had any hope (in common reason) Of harvest either in, or out of season. Yet, he wi••h-held that Plague. The Sky grew cleare; A kindly weather drove away our f••are; The Floods did sinck; the Mildewes were expell'd; The bending eares of ••orne, their heads up held; And Harvest came, which fild our Granards more, Then in the fruitfull'st, of sev'n yeares before. And, doubtlesse▪ had we gone to meet our God, Wi•••• true repentance, when this fearfull Rod Was raised first; it had away be••ne flung, And not continued in this Realme so long. For, as a Fath••r, when his dearest chil•• Growes disobedient, rude, and over-wilde, ••irst warnes; th••n threatens; then, the rod doth show; T••en frownes; and then doth feare him with a blow. Th•••• doubles, and redoubles it, untill He makes him grow more plyant to his will, And leave those wanton tricks, which in conclusion May prove th•• p••rents g••iefe, and childes confusion. Ev'n as this Father; so, our God h••th wrought. Vs, by his Word of Grace, he first besought: T••en▪ of his Wrath, and Iustice spake unto us: Next, hanging over u••, he plagues did show us. Yea, divers months before this Vengeance came, The spotted Fever did forewarne the same.

Was made her Harbenger; and in one week Sent hu••dreds, in the Grave, their bed to seek. Which nought prevailing, he did thereupon (As being loath to strike) first strike but one. Then, two or three: then slaid a while; and than To smi••e ano••her number he began, And then a greater. Neither did God show This mercy, onely, in the publike blow; But daign'd it, also, in that chastisement, Which he to ev'ry man in private sent. To hasten his repent••nce; first, he smote Some one of those he knew, in place remote; Wi••hin a w••eke, another better knowne; Next week a friend; the next a dearer-one; A lit••le after that, perhaps, an••ther; And then a kinsman, or ••n onely brother. Which no a••endm••nt working, God did come (To make him heedfull) somewhat nearer home: Knockt at h••s neighbours house, and took out all Or most, who lodg'd on tother side the wall: Then called at his doore, and seized on A servant fi••st; soone afterward, a son; Next night wa•• hazarded a daughters life; And e're that morning c••me, he lost his wife: At last fell sick himselfe, and then repented, Or dy'd, or liveth to be worse tormented. Thus, as it were by steps, God came upon us, That either Love or Terror migh•• have won us, To seeke our peace. But, yet, so ••ew were warned, (And this long suffring, so few soules discerned) That some the nature of this Plague beli'd; The number of the dead, som•• strove to hide. On groundles hopes, ••ods Iudgmē••s, some deferred. Some scofted others, when they were deterred.

Some rais'd a profit from it. Yea, so few Conceived what was likely to ensue; That, when we should like Niniveh have fared, For sports, and causelesse Triumphs we prepared▪ Of pleasure, in ••xcessive wise, we ••asted. We feasted, when we rather should have f••sted. And when in sack-cloth we should loud have cry'd, Ev'n then, we ruffled in our greatest pride. Which God ••••rceiving, and that we were growne Regardlesse of his smiles, and of his frowne; He did comm••n•• his Mercy, to let goe That hand, which did restraine his Iustice so. Then, catching up a Viall of his wrath, (W••ich he in store for such offenders hath) He did on thi•• our Citie, poure it downe. And, as strong poison shed upon the crowne, Descendeth to the members, from the head; And, soone, doth over all the body spread: Ev'n so, this noysome plague of Pestilence, On our head City Falling, did from thence, Disperse, and soake throughout this Emp••ry, In spight of all our carnall polici••. Our want of penitency, to allay Gods wrath, and stop his anger in the way, Enflamed and exasperated so This F••end, that he did thousands over-throw In ••ome few minuts: and▪ the greedy Grave Devou'd, as if it none alive would save. Death lurkt at ev'ry angle of the s••eet, And did a••rest whom ever he did meet. There scarcely was that house or lodging found, In which he did not either slay or wound. In ev'ry roome his murthers acted he, Our Close••s nay our Temples were not free

From his attemptings; no not while men pray'd, Could his unb••idled fury be delay'd. In sundry Families the••e was not one Whom his rude hand did take compassion on: Nay many times he did not spare the last, Vntill the buriall of the first was past. For, e're the Bearers back againe could come, The rest were r••ady ••or their graves at home. Nor bad nor good, nor rich nor poore did scape him, Nor foole nor w••seman, an excuse could shape him: He shunned not the yo••g man in the sadle, Nor him that lay and cryed in the cradle. So dreadfull was his looke, so sterne and grim, That many dy'd through very feare of him. For, to mens fancies he did oft ap••ea••e In shapes which so exceedi••d gastly were, That flesh and blood, unable was, to brooke, The horror of his all a••••righting look. Ev'n in that house, whose roofe did cover me, Of this, a sad ••xperiment had we: For, there, a plague-sick•• man (at least) conceiued That Death a shape assuming, he perceiued Deform'd and vgly; where at lou•• he cryes, Oh! hi••e me, hide me, ••rom his dreadfull ey••s. Looke, oh! looke there he comes: now by the ••ed He stands; now at the f••••t; now at the head. Oh! draw, draw, draw the Curtaine, Si••s I pray, That his grim loo••e no more b••hold I may. To this ••ffect, and such like wo••ds he spake, But that their hea••ers hearts they more did sh••••e. Then, rested he a while, and by and by Vp starting, with a lamentable cry, Ran to a Couch, whereon his wife (w••o waking Two nights b••fore had beene) some ••est was taking;

There, kneeling downe, & both his hands up rearing, As if his eye had seene pale Death appearing To st••ike his wife; Good Sir, said he, forbeare To kill or h••m•• that poore yong woman there: For God's sake doe not strike her; for you s••e She's great w••th child. Lo, you have wounded me In twenty places; and I doe not c••re How me you mischi••fe, so that her you spare. Ev'n this, and more then I to minde can call, He acted with a looke so tragic••ll, Tha••, all by standers▪ might have ••hou••ht▪ his eyes Saw reall objects, and no fantasies. To others, Death, no doubt, himselfe convaid In other formes; and other Pageants plaid. Whilst in her armes the mother thought she kept Her Infant saf••; Death stole him when she slept. Sometime he took the mothers life away, And left the little babe, to lye and play With her cold paps, and childish game to make About those eyes, that never mo••e shall wake. Som••times whē friends were talking, he did force The one to leave unfinisht his discourse. Sometimes, their morning meetings he hath thwar∣ted, Who thought not they for ever had beene parted, The night before. And, many a lovely Bride, He hath defloured by the Bridegroomes side. At ev'ry hand, lay one or other dying; On ev'ry part, were men and women crying, One for a husband; for a friend another; One for a sister, wife, or onely brother: Some children for their parents mone were making▪ Some, for the losse of servants care were taking; Some parents for a childe; and some againe ••or losse of all their children did complaine.

The mother dared not to close her eyes, Through feare that while she sleepes, her baby dyes. Wives trusted not t••eir husbands out of doore, Lest they might back againe returne no more. And in their absence if they did but heare One knock or call in hast, they quak'd through feare, That some unluckly messenger had brought The newes of those mis••hances they forethought. And if (with care and griefe o're-tyr'd) they slept, They dream'd of Ghosts, & Graves, & sh••iekt, & wept. He that o're night went healthy to his b••d, Lookt▪ e're the morning, to be sicke, or dead. He that rose Iusty, at the rising Sunne, Grew faint, and breathlesse, e're the day was done And, he that for his friend, this day did sorrow, Lay close besid•• him in a grave the morrow. Some men amidst their pleasures were diseased▪ Some, in the very act of sin were seized: Some, hence were taken laughing, and some singing: Some, as they others to their graves were bringing, Yea, so impartiall was this kind of Death, And so extreamly venemous his breath, That they who did not in this place expire, Where saved, like the Children in the fire▪ It may be that to some it will appeare, My Muse hath onely poetized here; And that I fa••n'd expressions doe rehearse, As most of those that use to wri••e in verse: But, in this Poeme I pursue the story Of reall Truth, without an Allegory: And many yet surviving witnesse may, That I come short of what I more might say. But, what I can I utter; and I touch This mournfull string, so often, and so much,

As in this Book I doe; that I might show To them that of these griefes forg••••full gro••, What sorrowes and what dangers ••hey have had; That all of us more thankefull may be made: And if to any these things doe appeare Or tedious, or impertine••t; I feare That most of them are they, who take no pleasure, For good and usefull things to be at l••isure. And more delight in Poems worded out, Th•••• those that are Gods works employ'd about. Me thinkes, I cannot speake enough of that Which I have seene; nor full enough relate What I declare; but 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it seemes to me I leave out somewhat that should utt'red be. For, though in most, the sense thereof be gone, It was God's Iudgement, and a fearfull one. And, LONDON, what availed then thy pride, Thy pleasures, and thy wealth so multiply'd? Or, then, oh! what advantage didst thou get By those vaine thi••gs, whereon thy heart is set? How many sev'rall Plagues did God prevent, Befo••e this Iudgement was upon thee sent? How many loving ••avours had he done thee, Before so roughly he did seize upon thee? And, that thou mightst his purposes discover, How long togethe••, did he send thee over The weekly newes, of those great Desolations, Which he infl••cts on many ot••er Nations? How often did he send, e're this befell, His Prophets, of his Iudgements ••o foretell? How many thousand Preac••ers hath he sent, With teares, to pray, and woo thee ••o repent? To ••ell t••ee, that thy pride, and thy exc••sse, Thy lusts, thy surfets, and thy drunkennesse,

Thine idlenesse, thy great impieties, Thy much prophanenes••e, thy hypocrifies, And other vanities, would bring at last Those pl••gues wher•• of thou now some feeling hast▪ How did thy Pastors to repent conjure thee? How st••ongly did Gods Ministers assure thee That all thy love, thy labour, and thy cost Besto••'d on carnall pleasures, would be lost? That, t••ou hereafter ••houldst become ashamed Of that whereof thy comforts thou hadst framed; And that those evills would at length befall From which no mortall hand reprieve thee shall. 'Thou canst not but acknowledge these things were Ev'n ev'ry moment, rounded in thine care; And that thy Sonnes of Thunder did presage What, for thy sinnes, should be thine heritage. Yet, thou to heare their message didst refuse. And, as the stubborne unbeleeving Iewes, Despised all those Prophets, who foreshew'd The times of their approaching servitude, Yea, punisht them, as troublers of the Land, And such as weakned much the peoples hand: So, thou accountedst of thy Teachers, then, But as a crew of busie-headed men, Who causlesly, thy quietnesse distu••bing, Had for their saucinesse, deserved curbing. But with amazement, now thou dost behold, That they have no uncertainties foretold. For, God in this one single Plague, comprised Those other Iudgements, all, epitomized; Which for thy ruine he at large will send, If this be not enough to work his end. Observe this Pestilence, and thou shalt see, That as there may be some one sin in thee

With other great Transgressions interlaced, So, divers Plagues in this great Plague were placed, It shew'd thee (in some fashion) their dist••esses, Whom WAR, in a besieged Fort oppresses: For, lo, thou wert deprived of all Trade, As if t••y Foes blockt up thy River had. And, though no armed Host thy wall surrounded, Yet (which was worse) thou by thy friends wert boun∣ded: For, wha••soever person passed f••om Thy Ports, upon an enemy did come. And none more cruell to thy children proved, Then some of thine, who from thy Pl••gues removed. Confusion, and D••sorder, threatn••d thee, (On which attendeth all the Pl••gues that be) For, most of thy grave Senate, who did beare Thy names of office, far departed were, To other places; leaving thee, nigh spent And languishing for want of Government. Yea, they that were thy Trust, and thy Deligh••, In times of health, did then ••orsake thee quite; To teach us, that those men, and vanities, Which have our hearts, in our prosperities, Will in affliction be the first who leave us; And, when we most expect, then most deceive us. Oh! whither then; oh! whither were they gone, Who, thy admired Beauty doted on? Where did thy Lovers in those dayes appeare, Who did so court thee, and so often sweare Affection to thee? whither were they fled, Whom thou hast oft with sweetest junkets fed? And they, whom thou so many yeares, at ease, Didst lodge within thy fairest Pal••ces? Where London, were thy skarlet Fathers hou••'d, Who in thy glory, were to thee espous'd?

What were become of all thy children, whi••h W••re nursed at thy brest, made great, and rich By thy good-huswifry? and whom we see In thy prosperity so hugg'd of thee? Where were thy rev'r••nd Pastors, who had pay To feed thy Flocks, and for thy sinne to p••ay? (I must confesse) the meanest, and some few Of better sort, were in affection true, And gave thee comfort. But, oh! where were those, Those greater ones, on whom thy hand bestowes The largest portions? Those, who have profest A zealous care of thee, above the rest? Those, who (as I conceive) had undertaken A charge that should not then have beene forsaken? Those many silken-Doctors, who did here In shining satten Casso••ks late appeare? They who (till now, a thing scarce heard of ever) Do flaunt it in their Velv••••, Plush, and Beaver. And they, whom thou didst honor far above Those meane ones, who, then, shewed thee most love? Where were they? &, where were thy Lawyers too That he••etofore, did make so much adoe Within thy Courts of Iustice? Pre••hee, where Were those Physitians, who so forward were To give thee physick, when thou neededst l••sse, And wert but sicke, of ease, and wantonnesse? Where did their foot-cloth•• wait? whe••e couldst thou call For their assistance? what became of all Their Diets, and Receipts? and why did they In that necessity depart away? Where lurckt those Poe••asters, who were wont To pen thy Mummeries, and vainly hunt For base reward, by soothing up the Crimes Of our Grand Epicures, in lofty Rimes;

And doe before each others Poems raise The huitlesse Trophees of a truthlesse praise? Da••'d none of all those matchlesse wits to tary This b••unt? That his experienc'd Muse might cary This Newes to after times; and move compassion, By his all-moving straines of Lamentation? What, none bu•• me? me onely leave they to it, To whom they s••ame to yeeld the Name of Poet? Well▪ if they ever had a minde to weare The Lawreat Wre••th, they might have got it ••ere: For though that my performance may be bad, A braver Subject, Muses never had. Where were thy t••oups of Ro••ers? where were they Who in thy Chambers did t••e wantons play? Provoking God Almighty, down•• to cast Those plagues from which they fled away so fast? Yea, wh••ther were tho••e Nothings, all retir'd, Of whom thou wer••, of late, so much desir'd? Alas! was there not any of all these Who staid to comfort thee, in this Disease? Did all depart away? And, being gone, Leave thee to beare thy sorrowes all alone? Left they upon thy Tally all that sin, Which had by them and thee, committed bin? Yes, yes, they left thee: ev'n all ••hese: and they So left thee, London, when they went away, That thy afflictions they did aggravate, And make more bitter thy deplored Fat••. A Dearth mixt also in this P••st was found, For they who did in riches most abound, (And should have holpen to relieue the poore) Departing hence, diminished thy store. To other Borroughes they themselves betooke: Their sick distressed brethren, they fo••sook••,

And, lest on those th••t would be hospitable, A b••rthen which to beare they were unable. Those few, of worth, who did in thee remaine, Had multitudes of beggers to sustaine; And, from the Country (as before I said) The sending of supply was long delaid. There was a Famine also, which exceeded This other; though the same by few was heeded. We had not so much scarcity of bread, As of that food wherewith our soules are fed. For, of our Pastors (in the greatest dangers) Som•• left us to the charity of Strangers. And, many soules, whom they were bound to cherish Depriv'd of timely sustenance, did perish. Who could have thought, this Vineyard, heretofore So fruitfull; and wherein the salvage Bore Of Turky rooted not: and whose thick fence Hath long time kept, the Bulls of Bashan thence; Should then (ev'n in the Vintage t••me) be found So bare of what, so lately did abound? And, then (a thing worth note) when ev'ry Field And meanest Villages did plenties yeeld? Indeed, not long before, we surfeted, And plaid the wantons with our heav'nly bread. Our appetite was cloy'd; and we grew dainty, And either loath'd, or murmur'd at our plenty. Yea, many of us, when at will we had it, By private Cookeries, unwholsome made it. For which, and for our base unthankfulnesse, Our portion and allowance waxed lesse: And, we who (like fond children) would not eat, Vnlesse, this man, or that man carv'd our meat, Then (like poore folks, that of meere almes do live) Were glad to take of any that would give▪

The Laborers were few; the Harvest large: And of the best of those that had the ch••rge To sp••ead God•• ••able▪ so••e g••ew faint and tired By th••i•• perpetu••ll trav••ile: some expired Their p••infull soul ••s, and freely sacrifiz'd Thems••lves for us, t••at we might be suffiz'd. Among which ••ap••y number I doe ••lesse The memory of learned Mak••r••••sse, And zealous Eton, who••e l••rge ••••ng••••g••tions, Bemoan'd their losse with h••a••ty l••me••••ations. And worthily: for, ••hey di•• labour here Wi••h cheerfuln••sse and in their C••lli••gs were So truly diligent w••i••st vigour lasted, That they then li••e blood, yea ••hei•• spi••its wasted; And ev'n unslackt the very ne••ves and powres Of their owne soules, to helpe enable ou••s. To bury, nigh a hundred in a day, To church, to ••arry, study, preach and pray; To make b•• times; at ni••h•• late watch to keepe; To be distu••b'd at midnight from their sleepe; To visit him that on his death-bed lyes; Oft to communicate; more oft baptize; And daily (and all day) to be in action, As were those two, to give due satisfaction To their great Flocks; mo••e Laborers there needed; And their consumed strengths, it much exceeded. But they are now at re••••: their w••ke is done, Their Fight is finished: th••i•• G••ale is won: And, though no Troph••e I to them can raise, Save, this poore withe••'d Wreath of mortall praise; Their Master (to reward their faithfulnesse) For them rese••ved Crownes of Happinesse; Because, unto his houshold, they the Bread Of life, in season, have distribute••.

Nor was the ••ood of life diminisht more By such mens want alone, then heretofore. But, to our discontent, we also had Our d••e allowances the sho••ter made Ev'n by command. Fo••, some (I know not why) Had ••alsely mis in••orm'd Autho••ity, That o••r promiscu••us meetings, at the Fast, Increast the Plague: which wa•• beleev'd in hast. And being urg'd, pe••haps, with such fane shewe•• Of Reason, as ••onj••cture cou••d in••u••e; (The matt••r ••ei••g aggrav••ted too, With suc•• ••ntruth••, as t••ave••l to and fro) The publike p••eaching on the Fasting day, Was, in an evill season, tooke aw••y. For, when the flesh was fed, and soule deprived Of two Repasts, whi••h weekly we received, Prophanenesse, and hard-hea••tednesse began To get new rooting in the mind of man. We miss•••• those good helpes, and those examples Which had beene prea••hed to us in our Temples. The poore did want full qui••kly, to their griefe, Those Almes the Fast b••ought out for their reliefe. And, when with Prayers, Preaching did not goe, Our cold Devotions, did far colder grow. VVhat instrument of mischiefe might he be VVho caused that? And, what a ••oole was he! If Wensday-Sermons holpe infect; I pray VVhat kept us safer on the Sabbath day? Since most fast then till noone without refection? Or, what at Funeralls, did stop infection? Good God! in thy affai••es, how vaine (to me) Doth carnall Policy appeare to be? How apt is flesh and blood to run a course, Which makes the soules condition, worse and wo••se?

To vent••re on eternall death how toward! And in a temporall danger what a cowa••d! Su••e, had not such a ••roject, had a scope Beyond the reaching of the D••vils hope, And be••n too damnable for any on•• To be his Procurator thereupon; Some w••••l•• have made the motion that we might Have liv'd ••xclu••ed from our Churches quite: And, that ••ill ••od his hand should please ••o stay, None ••hould in publ••ke, either preach, or pray. 'Twa•• well the weekly number of the dead, By Gods meere m••rcy, was diminished, Before t••e prohibition of the Fast: The Fi••nd had els••, for evermore, di••g••ac't That Discipline: and carnall Pol••cy H••d so insulted o're Divinity, That, in succeeding Ages, men unholy, Would thence have proved, such Devotion, Folly. But, God prevented it, that we should take Go••d n••tice of it; and good uses make: And I have mention'd it, that here I may God's Wis••dome and Man's foolishnesse display. Oh▪ let us to our Fasts againe returne; Let us, for our omissions truly mourne; And not capitulate with God, as tho He, first his Rod out of his hand should throw, He••e we would come unto him: for, if thus A son of ou••s should beare himselfe to us, It would our••ire exasperate the more; And make the fault seem greater then before. Why should we in an action that is just The mercy of our gracious God distrust? Or, unto any place be loath to go, Where God is to be heard, or spoken to,

Through feare of that which may be caught at home And in a thousand places where we come? Our sinnes and plagues were publike: so should wee In Pray'rs, and Teares, and Almes, and Fastings be. ••or, that s••rong D••vill which hath tortur'd thus Our generall body, is not cast from us By single Ex••rcismos: neither ••hall Our p••iv••cies advantage us at all, Except in what conduces to the health Of private men, or of their private weal••h. If we in close retirements (by our feare) At ma••kets, or where worse Assemblies are, Infected grow: the Devill, by and by With us perswadeth, either to belye The Church, our constant Fasting, or some one Good wo••ke, or pious action we have done. (As visiting the sick, in ti••e of need, Or any other such like Christian deed) For, he those practices doth greatly spight, And, to disparage them hath much delight: Because he sees, that such as are inclinde To pious meanes, will soone by triall finde, Good hopes to thrive beyond their expectations; Their knowledge, foole his cunning machinations; Their faiths grow strong; temptations weak appeare; Their joy most perfect, where most sorrowes are; And know, that when the Lord of Hoasts is armed, With all his Iudgements, that, he least is harmed, Who, bold through Love, selfe-trust quite f••om him throws And, runs with cōfidence to meet his blows. Let no man then be fearfull to repair•• Vnto the house of Preaching, or of Pray'r; Or, any whither else, those works to doe, Which he by Conscience is obliged to:

No, though the Devill in the passage lay, Or strow'd most ••earfull dangers in the way. For, if in such a case, our death we t••ke, Our death, shall for our best advantage ••ake. Yet, let none thinke I this opinion cary, That ev'ry Church, will be a Sanct••a••y, To all ••hat come For, sure, if any dare Without Devotion▪ in Gods house appeare, To them, that pl••ce, more pe••ill threaten••, then, A chamber thronged with infected men. Some fainted in the Church, as others did Within their houses (where themselves they hid) Yet not so o••ten. For▪ though some did please To blame the Church for spreading this disease, No places were more harmlesse. None did we Beh••ld more healthy, or to sc••pe more free From this Infection, then those persons, whom We saw most often, to Gods worship come. Nor were there any houses more infected Then theirs, who most th•• hous•• of God neglected. I spe••ke not this by rumor: For, ev'n thither Resorted I, where thronged were together The greatest multitudes: And day by day I sate▪ where all the croud I could survay. Yet, I nor man, nor childe, nor woman saw, To finke, looke pal••, or from their place withdraw▪ And, d••ubtlesse, if such faintings there had beene, As many prated of; I some had seene. Which, since I did not see, I wish ag••ine, None would at such a time, Gods house refraine, Except in Congregations not their owne, And w••ere in••ection feared is, or knowne: Or in their owne Assembly, where disorder Committed wilfully, the Pest may further.

Or, when their bodie's weak••ne••, or the Aire Their ••afet••es may ••ome other wa••es impaire. Excepting to (••n ••imes of Visitation, When they a••e ma••kt with ma••kes of Separation, As Rising, Bl••••es, or So••es. O, newly f••om The ••••mpany of such like pe••sons, come. Or, whensoe••er they or do••, or may Suppose themselves Infectio••s any way. These (as t••e ••epers did, by Mose Law) From publike Congregations should withdraw, For, sure, if any such themselves intrude To mixe among a h••althy Multitude, (Though p••ayers or devotions they pretend, Or whatsoever o••her pious end) Their foolish practise is vnwarrantable; Yea, their condition so uncharitable, That I abhorre it: and bel••eve that for So doing, God their prayers doth abhor••e: And, here, (although it may impertinent By some be thought) I canno•• chuse but vent, How I dislike, ou•• so much liked fashion Of b••riall, where the publike Congregation Are bound to meet: And then▪ especially, When of ••nfectious griefes great number•• dye. I know both Custom••, and Opinion, have So rooted thi••, that I my breath may save In reprehending it. Yet, when I must Be tak••n hence, and turne againe to dust, Let nought but Earth and Heav'n my carkasse cover, And neither Church nor Chappell roof•• me over; Nor any other Buildings, saving those That on••ly serve, such reliques to enclose. For, though I doe ingenuously confesse, W•• should to shew our Christian hopefulnesse

Of rising from the dead, lodge decently Their flesh, who in Christs Faith p••ofesse to dye: And, that Churchyards, or plots distinguisht from The vulgar use, doe best of all become That purpose. Yet, I know the common guise Of bur'ing in the Church, did first arise From ancient Superstition; and to gaine Some outward profit, to the priestly tr••ine. For, many simple men were made conceive That if (when they were d••ad) they might have leave To rest within those plots of hallowed ground, Which either Church or Chappell did surround▪ No wicked Spirit should permittance have, To trouble or abuse them, in the grave: Whereas (which yet old fooles beleeve they do••) They might else rise, and walke at midnight too About their streets, and houses, or crosse wayes; Till some Masse-monger them at quiet lay••s: And then it was suppos'd, how much the nigher They lay unto their Altar, or their Choïre, By so much more the safer they should rest; Which ••••ought no petty summes to Dagons chest: Thence was it, that our Churches, first of all, Were glaz'd with Scutchions like a Heralds hall; And that this age in them depainted sees So many vaine and lying Pedigrees. Thence comes it th••t we now adayes behold Some Chancels filled up with rotten, old, And foolish monuments. From hence we see So many puppet Images to be On ev'ry wall within our Oratories: So many Ep••taphs, and lying stories, Of men deceast▪ and, thence the guise was gotten, To let so many Banners dropping rotten

Deforme our pillars; and withdraw our ••yes From picus objects to those vanities. If any man desirous be to lye Within a Monument, when he shall dye: Let ••v'ry noble Family erect Without their Cities some faire Architect, Within the compasse of whose roofed wall There may be founded some good Hospitall Or build••ngs for the law••ull r••••reation O•• youth, and for the honor of the Nation. And of that Name or kin, w••en any dyes, There lay their bones; or to their memories Erect there Tables. And, let them tha•• had Such minds, and fortunes, to the Structure ad••e. Yea thith••r (if they please) let them transl••te Their Ancestors. But, I have spoke too late, Those time•• ••re past in which our noble ones Were able to ••rect such piles of stones As might be emin••nt. Our kingly race Had by the s••ven••h H••n••y such a place Erected for them, so magnificent, That to this Land it is an ornament. ••et them th••t cannot reach the cost of these, Raise Cawsies, Bridge••, and make Docks, and Keyes For publike use: which with as little cost As now upon th••ir pedling Tombe, is lost, Should make them live farre longer in their fames; For▪ we would ••hose entitle by their Names. All they that love their Country, ••ow they know Which way they may their money best b••stow, (••o memorize their Friends, with profiting The publike) will consider of this thing And build them Tombes where we may praise the work▪ Not in a Church obscure, unseene to lurke,

Where few shall view them; and where most who shall Be••old them, take no heed of them at all. If some good Patriot woul•• begin the fashion, It ••ig•••• allu••e, perhaps, to imitation. And if it were not gr••edinesse of gaine Am••ng Church-Officers, whi••h did maintaine Such Custom••s w•• should som••what more forbeare To lay so ••any sti••king bod••es there Where God we s••••ke (and him should seeke to finde, With ••urity of body, and of m••nde) Indeed our s••••ne, alone pollutes; and y••t An ou••ward decen••y is a••so fit. Was't well, that in the Church (where throngs and beat Did mak•• us in the croud to pant and sweat) Ev••n in the midst of our Devotions too, Men should, as oft it pleased t••em to doe, Thrust in (where we could hard••y stand in e••se) With f••ure or five strong sm••lling Carkasses? Was'•• fit, so many Gr••ves, at such a season Should g••••e and brea••h upon us? was it reason▪ That heaps of ru••bish, C••ffin-boards, ••nd stones▪ Late bu••y'•• bodies, and halfe•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bones, God's Templ•• should poll••te? a••d make it far More loath some, then most Charnell ••ouses are? Was't fitting that to gaine their griping fees, They should endang••r multitudes to leese Their lives, or healths? or, that they should fulfill A fool••sh motion in a dead mans will, By wronging o•• the living? God ••orbid It should ••e reason; and yet, thus they did. Thus did they? yea, far worse: f••r should I tell At what high rates, some Churchmen, here, did sell Their burying grounds: What feet they did exact: H••w Readers, Clarkes, and Sextons did compact,

To racke the de••d: to what a goodly summe Their large Church-duties (in some cases) come: What must ••e p••id for Bearers, though m••n have Their friends to helpe convey them to the grave: What for the B••lls, though not a Bell b•• rung: What, for their mourning clothes, though none be hung V••on them but their owne: what pay did passe For F••n••rall S••rmons, where no Sermon was: And, what was oft extorted (without shame) To give him leave ••o preach, who f••e••ly came: If her•• (I say) I should discover ••hat I might, of t••ese things m••n••ioned, rel••••e, Those men who die, that charges they may s••ve, Would f••are they might be legger••d in the Grave: For, more ••o take th•••• lodging ha•••• ••eene spent, Then would h••ve bought a pret••y tenement. Thus, a•• one matter drew another on, My Muse hath diuers things discourst upon To many sund••y purposes: but, what I chiefly in this Can••o aimed at VVas, to prese••ue in mind an awfull sense Of what we suf••red in this Pestile••ce: VVhat we deserved; and how variously, Gods Iustice, this one Cors••ve d••d apply, To eate out all Corruptions, which be spotted Our soules, and h••d ere this our bodies rotted. I might as well have memorized here, How diversly God's Merci••s did appeare, Amid his Iudgements: ••ow he comforted, VVhen outwa••d com••o••t failed: how he sed, VVhen oile and meale w••re wasted: how he gaue Their lives to them, whose feet were in the graue. VVhat Patience▪ what high Fortitude he granted, And, how he still supplyed what we want••d.

I might commemorate, a world of Grace Bestow'd in this affliction, on this place, Both common, and in private. Many a vow (Of theirs, who will, I feare, forget it now) Was daily heard. Ten thousand suits were daigned; Repri••ves, for soules condemned were obtained▪ Frie••ds prayd for friends; the parents for the lives Of their deare children▪ Husbands for their wives; Wives for their husbands beg'd with teares & passiō, And, God with pitie heard their lamentation. In friends, in servants, in the temporall wealth, In life, in death, in sicknesses, and health, God manifested Mercy. Some did finde A Friend, to whom till then, none had beene kind. Some, had their servants better'd, for them, there, By Gods correction. Some, left wealthy were By dying kindred, who the day before Were like to beg their bread from doore to doore, Some, by their timely deaths were taken from Such present paines, or from such woes to come, That they are happy. Vnto some, from heav'n, The blessing of a longer life was giv'n, That they might call ••o minde their youthfull times Repent omissions, and committed crimes; Amend their courses, and be warisome That they displeas'd not God, in ••imes to come. Againe, some others by their sicknesses, And by the feares they had in this Disease, Grew awfull of Gods Iudgements; and withi•• Their harts, good motions were, wher none had bin▪ Ev'n in their hearts who fear'd nor God nor Devill, Nor guilt of sin, nor punishment for ••vill. And, some had health continu'd, that they might Gods praise ex••oll, and in his love delight.

Should I declare, in what unusuall wise God op'ned here their soules dimsighted eye••, Who blinded were before; how nig•• they reacht To highest Mysteries: what things they preacht Ev'n to their neighbours, and their family, Before their soules did from their bodies flye; Or, should I tell, but what young Children here Did speake, to take from e••der folke their feare O•• Sicknesses and Death; what they exprest O•• heav'nly blisse, and of this worlds unrest; What faith they had; what strange illuminations; What strong assurances of their salvations; And with what proper termes, and boldnesse they Beyond their yeares, such things did open lay, It would amaze our Naturallists, and raise A goo••ly Trophee to our M••kers praise. But, this for me were too▪ too large a task, And many yeares and volumes it would aske, Should I in these particula••s record The never ending mercies of the Lord. For, he that would his meanest act recite, Attempts ••o measure what is infin••te. That story therefore, in particular To med••le with I pu••pose to defer Till in the Kingdome of eternity My soule in honor of his Majesty Shall Halelu••ah ••ing; and over-looke With hallow'd eyes, that great eternall Booke, Which in a moment to my view shall bring Each passed, present, and each future thing, And there my soule shall read, and see revealed What is not by the LAMBE, as yet, un••ealed. Meane while Ile cry Hosannah, and for all His love to me, and mercies generall,

His three times holy, and thrice blessed Name I p••aise, and vow for aye to praise the same.

The fifth Canto.

The Author justifies againe His Method, and his low••y Straine. Next, having formerly made knowne The common Feares, he tels his owne. Shewes with what thoughts he was diseased, When first the Plague his lodging seized: Of what God's Iustice him accused; Vpon what Doubts, or Hopes, he mus••d; On what, and how, he did resolve; And who from Death, did him absolve. The Plagues encrease, he then expresseth: The Mercies of the LORD confesseth: Emplores that he himselfe may never Forget them, but, be thanke••ull ever: Then, mounting Con••emplations wings, Ascends to high and usefull things. From thence his Muse is called downe▪ To make Great Britaines errors knowne: Wherein, he doth confesse a sailing; And (his infirmities bewailing) Is fitted and resolv'd anew, His purpos'd Message to pursue: And, having fi••st anticipated, His Arrant is, in pa••t, rel••ted.

PErhaps, the nicer Cri••ickes of these times, When they sh••ll sl••ightly view my lowly Rimes, (Not to an end, these Poems fully reading, Nor their Occasion, nor my Aymes, well h••eding)

May taxe my Muse that she at random flyes; For want of Method, makes Tautelogies; And commeth off, and on, in such a fashion, That▪ oft she ••a••les their curious expectation. It is enough to me, that I doe know What they commend, and what they disallow. And let it be enough to them, that I Am pleas'd to make such faults for them to spy. For I intend the Method which I use▪ And, if they doe not like it, they may c••use. They who in their Composures, keep the fashion Of elder times, and write by imitation; Whole quaint Inventions must be trimd and trickt, With curious dressings, from old Authers pickt; And whose maine workes, are little ••l••e, but either Old scattred Peeces, finely glew'd together; Or, some concealed Structures of the Braine, Found our (where long obscured they have laine) And new attir'd: These, must (and well they may) Their Poesies in formall garbes aray, Their naturall defects by Art to hide; And, make their old new-straines the Test abide. These, doe not much amisse, if they assume Some ••stridge feath••rs, or the Peacockes plume To strut withall: nor had I greatly h••eded That course of theirs, if they had not proceeded To c••nsure mine. My Muse no wh••t envies That they from all their he••thnish Po••sies Have skumm'd the Creame & to themselves (for that) The s••ile of Prince of Poets a••••ogate. For, Plautus, Horace, Perseus, ••uvenal, Yea Greece and Romes best Muses, we may call Their Tr••b••taries; since from them c••me in Those Treasures which their princely Titles win.

Sometime, as well as they I play the Bee: But, like the Silkeworme, it best pleaseth me To spin out mine owne Bowells, and prepare them For those, who thinke it not a shame to weare them. My Matter, with my Method, is mine owne; And I doe plucke my Flow'rs as they are blowne. A Maiden when she walkes a••road to gather Some herbs to strow the dwellings of her Father, (Or fragrant flow'rs to deck her wedding Bowre, Or make a nosegay for her Paramour) She comes into the Garden, and first seizeth The Flow'rs which first she sees, or what she pl••aseth; Then runs to those whom use or memory, Presenteth to her thought, or to her eye: As toward them she ••asteth, she doth finde Some others, which were wholly out of mind••, Ev'n till that very moment: while she makes Her prise of those, she notice likewise takes Of Herbs unknowne before, that lurking lay Among the pleasant Plants within her way: She crops off these, of those she taketh none, Makes use of some, and lets as good alone; Here plucks the Cowslips, Roses of the prime, There, Lavander, sweet Marj••r••m, and Thyne, Yon•• Iuly••low'rs, or the Damask Rose, Or sweet-breath'd Violet, that hidden growes▪ Then some againe forenam'd (if need she thinks) Then Daisies, and then Marigolds, and Pincks: Then Herbs anew, then Flow'rs afresh doth pull, Of ev'ry fort, untill her lap is full. And otherwhile, before that worke be done, To kill a Caterpiller she doth run, Or catch a Butterfly; which varies from That purpose whereabout she first did come.

So, from the Muses Gardens, when I meane Those flow'r•• of usefull Po••sie to gleane, Whi••h being well united may content My Christian Friends; or with a pleasing sent Perfume Gods house, or beautifie, or cheere My soule, which else would rude, and sad appeare▪ When this I meane; I paint out ev'ry Tho••ght, As to my heart I feele it to be brought: I t••eat of things, as cause conduces to them, And as occasions, unto me, doe show them. Some••imes, I ••rom the matter seeme to goe, For purposes, which none but I may know Sometime, an usefull Flow'r I may forget; Anon, into my Nosegay, I doe set Some other twice; becau••e, perchance, the place Affo••ds it better use, or better g••ace. A•• one conceit I seriously pursue, That, brings perhaps another to my view, And that another; and that, many a one, Which if in M••thods Allies I had gone, Ha••, peradventure, ••lse remain'd unseene; And, in my Gar••and might have missed beene. E're I my pen assume, I feele the motions Of doing somewhat, and have gen'rall notions O•• what I purpose: But, Mogul doth know As well as I, what path my Mus•• will goe. What, in particular, I shall expresse, I know not (as I hope for hap••inesse) And though my matter, when I first begin, Will hardly fill one p••ge; yet being in, Me thinks, if neither faintnesse, friends▪ nor night, Disturbed me, for ever I could wri••e. Vpon an in••tant I oft feele my brest With infinite variety possest;

And such a troup of things together throngs, Within my braine; that, had •• twenty tongues I shou••d (wh••lst I assai•• to utter it) Twice more, then I could mention, quite forget. A hundred Masings, which I meane to say, Before I can expresse them, slip away; Which to recall, although I much endever, Oft passe out of my memory, for ever; And cary forth (ev'n to the wo••lds ••arre end) Some other thoughts, which did on them depend. Whilst I my pen am dipping downe in inke, That's lost which next to tell you I did thinke; And, somewhat instantly doth follow on, Which till that present, I ne're thought upon. This, fo••ceth me those Methods to forgoe, Which others in their Poems fancy so. This makes me ••i••th to my Concep••ions give, As fast as they the••r Beings doe receive. Left whilst I for the common Midwife ••ary, The fl••tting is••ue of my braine miscary. And, howsoe're they please to censu••e me, Who but Stepfathers to their Poemes be; This, is that way of uttrance that e••ch Muse Makes practice of, whom Nature ••o••h infu••e: And, warrant from th••ir Naturall strai••es do••h fet▪ Whom Artifi••iall Poets counterfeit. These a••e true Raptures; ••h••irs are imitations, Or, rather, of old Rap••u••es▪ new Translations. Thi•• Method long agoe, old Moses used, When God ••is Hymne of ••raise, to h••m in••used. Thus, Solomon hi•• Song of Songs, compased: And, when thy sin••er, ••s••••el, was disposed To praise the Lord or sp••a••e ••nto his God, O•• ven•• his passiens in a mou••••••u••l Ode,

In thi•• contemned wi••e, from him did flow, Those heav'nly Raptur••s which we honor so. As God's good Spirit cary'd him along, So vary'd he, the m••tter of ea••h Song. Now prayes; straight praiseth; instantly l••menteth; Then halfe d••spaires; is by and by contented; The pe••son of the changeth; oft ••epeate••h One sentence; and one su••t oft iter••teth. Which manner of expression, s••emes to some So methodlesse, and so to wander from A certainty, in what he did intend, That they his well-knit Raptures discommend, As broken and di•• jointed; when, indeed, From ignorance (or from their little heed To such exp••essions, and such mysteries) Their cau••elesse disesteeme, did first a••ise. Yea, Ignorance, not knowing what they meant, When such an uncouth p••th the Muses w••nt; Was wont (long since) to call our soule-rapt straines, Poetick Furíes: And that Name remaines. Yet, this old tr••ct I follow; this I use; And, this no true-borne Poe••▪ can refuse. My scope, I ever keepe, in all my Layes; Which is, to please, and profit, to Gods praise: But, in one path, or in one pace to ride, It is not fi•• a P•••••• should be ty'd. Sometime he must be grave; lest else, the wi••e The m••tter, or the m••••ner, may despise. Sometime he must en••evor to be plaine, Lest all that he d••••ivers be in vaine: Another wh••le, he Parables must use, And ••iddl••s, lest some should the truth abuse, And th••y that are the Nymrods of the times Grow mad, in slead of leaving oft their crimes.

Sometime he must be pleasing, le••t he may Drive all his frow••rd Re••ders quite away. Sometimes he must have bu••er stroine••, to keepe T••e sullen Reader f••om a drow••ie sleepe; And whip those wantons, from an evill course, That, without wa••ning, would be dai••y worse. Sometimes againe, he must be somewhat merry, Lest Fooles, of good instruction, should be weary. Yea, he to all men all things should become, That he, of many, might a••vantage some. This, m••kes me chang•• the Person, and the Style, And vary from the matter, other while. Thi••, makes me mix•• smal things, and great together; Here, I am grave; there, play I with a fea••her. One page, doth make some Reader halfe beleeve, That I am angry: In the next, I give The C••ilde an Aple. In one leaf••, I ch••de; I somewhat in another doe provide, To helpe excuse those ••railties I ••eproved: And those excus••s, are in place ••emoved, From such reproofes; left following on too nigh, Th•• Che••k, might without heed, be p••ssed by. This course b••c••me•• the Muses. This doth save Our ••ines from just reproofe, when Tyrants rave At our free Numbers: and when Fooles condemne Our Straine••, because they understand not them. Such Po••fie is right: and, therefore▪ they Who study matter, ••nd what words to say, Doe falsly arrogate to be inspired; Since, when they boast their soules are this way fired, It is but Wine, or Passion ma••es them rave: And thence the Muses their disgraces have. Most times, when I compose, I watch, and fast. I cannot find my Spirits, when I taste

Of meats and drinks; nor can I write a line, Sometime, should I but take one draught of wine. Men say, it makes a Poet, and doth warme His braine, and him with strong invention arme. No m••••vell then, that most doe reckon me For none, who of this Age the Poets be; And▪ that so ••nviously at me they strike, For they and I are not inspir'd alike. In such like workes as these, if I should fill My head, my Muse would have an empty qu••ll; And▪ that w••ich to expresse she then presumes, Would smother'd be, with vapourings and fumes. But, when those write; thēselves they first make mery With Claret, with Canary, or with Sherry. And these are sure the Deities which make A sensuall eare, of them, best liking take. When such as they reprove a sinfull State, Or would those great enormities relate, Wherein their times offend; they may be brough•• To question for it; and it may be thought Their sple••ne, revenge, or envy, did incite Their braines to hammer, what their pens did write, Because they did premeditate, and straine Their faculties, their projects to attaine. But, when a man one Subject purposing, Sits downe to write it, and another thing (Vnthought upon before) qu••te thrusteth out That matter which at fi••st he went about: When he remembers, that nor spight, nor spleene, No•• envy, hath his primus motor beene: When he perceives, nor dangers, nor disgrac•• Can fright him, when such Raptures are in place: When he doth find, that with much ease & pleasure He utters what exceeds the common measure

Of his owne Gifts: ••nd that (although his Rimes Are none of those strong lines that catch the times) They from the V••rtuous, good respect can draw, And keepe the proudest vitious-men in awe: What should he thinke, but that the pow'r of God Ins••ireth him, to show his will abroad? What nee•• he feare, but, most undantedly, Make use of his inspired Facultie? No arrogance it were, if he, or I, Should say that God our pe••s had spoken by, To those we live among, since, we might say, He speak••s by all his creatures, ev'ry ••ay: Yea, since in elder times it came to pass••, That he declar'd his pleasure by an ••sse. What should we do but speak, when we are willed? What can we doe but speake when we are filled? While wicked men we do•• remaine among, With David, w•• a while may curb the tongue; But, burne it will within us, ti••l we speake, And forth, at last, some thundring voice will breake▪ And what should then our hearers doe, but learne Their errors, by our Poems, to disce••ne? Why should they raile at u••, who neither fea••e Then fury, nor for all their threatnings care? Why doe they, childishly, our Lines condemne, That strike but at their sollies, not at them? Why, so unjustly still, are we pursued, Who shew them ho••v their falls may be eschewed? And why doe they by seeking of our shame, Encrease our glor••es, and themselves defame? Whence comes all this, but from that sot••i••hnesse Which doth most people of this age possesse? But, let these questions passe; lest by degrees, They draw us on, untill our ma••ke we leese.

Thus far my Muse hath wilfully digrest, And of he•• purpose, now she vents the ••est. When divers weeks together •• had wasted In vi••wing th••se afflictions others tasted; When day by day, •• long had walkt abroad, Beholding how the scou••ging hand of God, Afflict••d other men, and how, each morning My going out, and ••ow my b••ck ••etu••ning, Was ev'ry night in safety; I be••an Gods care and my unworthinesse to scan. And, 'twas, me thought, a favour, w••ich required To be both much acknowledg'd, and ••dmi••ed; That (when so many houses, ••v'ry day, Were visited) t••e place wherein I lay Stood free so long; co••sidering we were many, And, then, ••esorted to, as much as any. But, th••re was somewhat needfull to be knowne, Which no mans griefe could 〈◊〉〈◊〉 me but mine own. And, that I migh•• thereof in••ormed be, God sent at last his Iudgements home to me. Y••a, peradventure, in my soule he saw Some ••ailings of my former filiall awe; Some thanklesnesse; some inward pride of heart; Or over-ween••ng of mine owne desert, Arising from the mercifull protection W••ic•• he vouchsafed me from this In••••ction; And t••erefore sent as my Reme••bra••cer, His dread••ull, and his bloody Messenger To t••ke his lodging, where my lodgings were; And put his rage in execu••ion there. For, in upon us, that Contagion broke, Five soules out of our Gate, it quickly tooke, And left ••nother wounded; that I might Conceive my danger, and Gods love, a••ight.

It fell about the time in which their sum Who weekly died, to the full was come: Then, when infection to such height was growne, That many dropped on a sudden downe In ev'ry street: yea, when some fooles did tell The lying Fables of the Falling-B••ll At Westminster; and how that then did flye No Bird through Londons ayre which did not dye. Ev'n then it was. And, though some few did please, By such like tales, and strange Hyperboles, To overstraine the stories of our so••row: They did but needlesly their fictions borrow To set it forth. Nay, their false rumors made Our woes appeare lesse great, then those we had. Till now, I made th•• smart o•• othe••s knowne: The Griefes I next will tell you, are mine owne. At fi••st, I stood as one who f••om a Towre▪ Beholding how the swo••d doth such ••evo••••e (Who in the streets beneath him fig••ti••g be) Accounts himselfe from danger to be free. But, at the last, I fared, as it fares With such, whose Foes have made, at unawares, A breach upon their Bulw••rke; and I stood No meane assaults, to make my standing stood. For, both within me, and without me, too, I had enough, and full enough to doe. No sooner to my Chamber was I gone, But, I was follow'd straight, and set upon By strong Assailants, who did much intrude, And much disease me, by their multitude. My Reason, who to Faith did lately stoop, Revolted, and brought on a mighty troup Of trayt'rous Arguments, whereby she thought, On this my disadvantage, to have wrought.

Temptations, slye-Suggestions, Feare, and Doubt, Did undermine, and close me, round about. My Conscience did begin to be afraid My Faith had beene a false one; who betraid My Soule to Death: and (whether then it were The pow'r of strong I••fection, or else Feare, Occasion'd by those combatings within, Or both together) I did then begin To finde my body weakned more and more, And felt those pangs, till then unfel•• before. Ev'n many dayes together, so it fared: And sure, if Superstition could have scared My better setled heart, there hapned that, Which I had fear'd, and somewhat startled at: And (though I never outwardly complained To any one, of that which I sustained) That week, in which our house was visited, And made complete the number of her dead; I had a sleeplesse night; in which with heat Opprest, I purged out (in stead of swear) Round-rud••y-spots (and, that, no little store) Which on my brest, and shoulders, long I wore. Perhaps, it was the Pestilence, which then So ma••ked me▪ and I, as other men, By her had beene devour'd, had I not Through Gods great mercy, my free pardon got. Which, how, and on what termes, the same I gain'd, I••e now declare. For, though they seeme but fain'd▪ Or melancholy thoughts, which here I tell; Yet, sure, to smother them, I did not well. For, some, perhaps will thinke (as well as I) That none should sleightly passe such musings by: And some (who at first viewing will surmise, That in these things I meerly poetise)

VVill find, perchance, in times that shall ensue, Expe••imentall proofe, that all is true; Should D••rk••esse, where her visage, Danger, showes, (••t such a disadvantage) them enclose. VVhen all alone I lay, and apprehended, How many mischiefes my poo••e soule attended; I plainly saw (••hough not with ca••nall eyes) God's dreadfull Angell, ready to su••prise My trembling soule; and ev'ry hideo••s feare, VVhich can to any naturall man appeare, (In such a case, to aggrava••e his terror) Approacht, with ev'ry circumstance of horror. I ••aw the Muster of each passed evill, And all my youthfull follies, by the Devill Brought in against me, marshall'd▪ and prepared, To fight the battell which I long had feared. And such a mult••tude of them sur••ounded My Conscience, that I was almost con••ounded. A thousand sinnes appear'd which were forgot, And which I till that moment minded not, Since first committed; and more ugly far They seem'd, then when they perp••trated were. Yea many things whereof I bragg'd, and thought That I, in doing them, some good h••d wrought, Declar'd themselves against me; and I found That they did give my soule the deepest wound. VVhen these had quite enclosed me, I saw The Tables, and the Volumes of the Law▪ To me laid open: and I was, me thought, Befo••e the presence of God's Iustice brought, VVho from her eye did frownes upon me dart, And se••med, thus to speake unto my heart. (Oh! Readers marke it well; fo•• to this D••ome, O•• to a worse then this, you all must come.

Suppose thou not, vaine man, thou dost possesse This lif•• till now, for thine owne righteousnesse, Or that thou merit••st mo••e grace to have Then they who now are sent to fill the Grave: Lo, here, thy Foe hath brought of thy offences An Army, and so many evidences Of thy Corruption; that, plead what thou wilt Of merit in thy ••elfe, th••y prove a guilt So hainous, that thy soule thou canst not free: Yet other sinfull thoughts of thine I see. I search thy heart, and •••• discover there Deceits, which cannot to thy selfe appeare▪ I know thy many secret imperfections, I know thy passions, and t••y vaine affections; And, that performances thou hast not made According to those favo••rs thou hast b••d. Vaineglory, profit, or some carnall end, Thy best endeavor alw••yes did attend; And, as distrusting, God would thee beguile, An arme of fl••sh thou se••kest otherwhile: Not as the second, but the chiefest Cause: Which from the glory of thy God withdrawes. Mine eye doth see what arrogance and pride Thou dost among thy f••irest vertues hide; And, what impieties, thou shouldst have done, Had I not stopt the course thou though••st to run. Of•• ••••mes, when others Vices, thou hast showne, Thou hast forgotten to repent thine owne. And, many times, thy ta••t reproofes have beene The fruits, not of thy Vertue, but of Spleene. Thy wanton Lus••s (b••t that I did restraine Their f••ry, when thou w••uldst have slackt the Reine) Had horne thee he••dlon to those deeds ••f shame, With which thy evill willers blur thy Name.

Shouldst thou have done the best that thou wert able, Thy services had beene unprofitable: But, thou scarce h••lfe thy Talent hast employ'd; And, that small good thou didst, is nigh destroy'd, By giving some occasion, needlesly, Of questio••ing thy true sincerity. God of•• hath hid thy frailties, and thy sinne, Which being knowne, would thy d••sgrace have bin. The show of Wit and Vertue, thou hast had, He, to the world more eminent hath made, Then theirs, who wiser, and much better are, Though outward helpes, and fortunes, wanting were▪ And, though thy knowledge, and thy former Layes, Among your formall Wizzards got no praise, Yet what they co••nted foolishnesse, became A greater honor to thy sleighted Name, Then they obtained: And, that Grace (I see) Begot more pride, then thankefulnesse in thee: And, I was faine, to let some scandals flye, To teach unto thee, more h••mility. In all thy wants, thou still hast beene relieved; From heav'n thou comfort hadst, whē thou w••rt grieved▪ When Princes threatned, thou wert fearlesse made; In all thy dangers, thou a Guard hast had; In closest prison, thou best freedome gainedst; In great contempts, thou most esteeme obtainedst; When, most thy fo••s did labour to undoe thee, They brought most honour, and most profit to thee. Yea, still when thy destruction was expected, Then, God, thy peace beyond thy hope, effected. And, in the stead of praising him for this, Thou robdst him of much honour that was his. Tho•• w••rt content, to heare the Vulgar say, Thy Spirit, and thine Innocence made way

To ••••y escape. Whereas, thy ••ons••ience kn••w Thou wert a ••oward, till God ••id ••n••ue Thy heart with Fortitude, and f••••ely gave thee That innocency which from harme d••d save thee. When God thy Na••e div••lg'd for some good end, (Which his w••se P••ovidence a••d soreintend) Thou took'st the glory of it for thi•••• ••wne, And, justly, therefore thy so being knowne, Hath beene a m••••n••s whereby t••y Fo•••• h••ve sent Their sc••ndal f••r••her, then they else ha•• went. As soon•• as, God from trouble ••id release thee, (O••, but w••th ••••pes of ou••w••rd things possesse thee) Some fruitlesse thoughts d••d quit•• thy heart estrange, And after such vaine Project ••ake thee range, That he was o••t compeld to put thee ••rom Those blessi••g••, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to thy lips were come; Lest, being then unseas'na••ly received, Thou mightst of better thing•• have beene ••ere••••ved▪ F••w men so nigh g••eat Hopes attained ••ver▪ With such small fortunes and w••thout en••eavor, As thou hast done▪ and f••we•• ha••e beene crost▪ That way (which thou h••s•• been••) in what was lost; That see and kn••w thou mightst, such losse and gaine, He sent; and, that he neither sent in vaine. Yea, that those evils which thou h••dst in thought, Should scape the being into action brough••, Ill ••ong••es w••••e stirred to prevent the f••ct, By blazing what was never yet in act: Bu••, might have beene, perhaps▪ had not that er••ed Thy heart▪ whereby t••y foes would thee h••ve harmed. Thou to refresh thy soule h••st pleas••res had, And tho•• by their abuse, hast f••••bl••r ma••e H••r use••••ll F••culties. Thou hast ••nj••yed Youth, strength, an•• health; and▪ them hast mis employed.

Thy God hath made thee gracious in their eyes, Whose good esteeme, thy soule doth highly prise; And (of ill purpose though Il•• not condem••e Thy love, or meaning, to thy selfe or them) Thou hast full often stole their hearts away, Ev'n from themselves; and made thine owne a prey To many passions▪ which did sometimes bring Vpon your s••lves, a mutuall torturing: Because you did not in your loves propose Those ends, for which, Affection, God bestowes. But, spent your houres (that should have beene employ'd To learne and teach how you should have enjoy'd Gods love) that flame, to kindle, in each other▪ Wherein, you might have perished together. Thou aggravated hast thy pard'ned crimes, And, it••rated them, a thousand times. Ev'n yet, thou dost renew them ev'ry day; And when for Mercy thou dost come to pray, Thou meri••est confusion, through that folly, Which makes thy prayers to become unholy. Nay, at this time, and in this very place, Where God in Iudgement stands before thy face, Thou oft forgetst the danger thou art in; Forgetst Gods mercy, and dost hourely sin. Thou dost neglect thy time, and trifle out Those dayes, that should have beene employ'd about The service of th•• Maker. Thou dost give Thy selfe that liberty, as if to live Or dye, were at thy choice▪ and that at pleasure, Thou mightst pursue his worke; and at thy leasu••••. Thy Talent thou mis-spendst; and here, as though To looke upon Gods Iudgements were enough For thee to doe; thou dost with negligence Performe thy vowes; which adde to thy offence.

And loe, for these thy faults, and many moe; Whereof thy Conscience thee doth guilty know, My spotted-Hound hath seized thee: from whom, That thou with life shouldst ••eene have to come, What canst thou say▪ I could not make reply; For, Feare, and Guilt, and that dread Majesty Which I had apprehended, tooke away My speach; and not a word had I to say. But Mer••y who came arme in arme along With Iusti••e, and about her alwayes hung; Did looke, me thought, upon me with an eye So truly pitifull, that instantly My heart was cheer'd, and (Mercy prompting her) Such words, or thoughts as these she did p••efer. Tis true most awfull Iustice, that my sin Hath greater then thine accusations bin▪ The most refined actions of my soule, Are in thy presence, horrible and foule. And if thou take account of what is done, I cannot of ten thousand answer one. As soone as I am cl••••sed from my sinne, To saile my selfe anew▪ I doe begin. I to my vomit, like a Dog, retire, And like a Sow, to wall••w in t••e mire. I have within my soule, distempers, passions; And hourely am besieg'd with strong temptations. My Flesh is weake, except it be to sin; My ••pirit faints, when I the goale should winne. My Will ••ff••cteth most, what is most vaine; My Memory doth ••vill best retaine. That little good •• would, I cannot doe; Those evil•• I detest, I fall into. The vapours whi••h from earthly things arise, Too often veile heav'ns glories f••om min•• eyes.

And I, who can sometimes by contemplation, Advance my soule above the common station, (The world contemning) do•• sometime•• agen Lye groveling on the ground with other men: My Faith doth faile; my mounting wings are clipt; Of all my braveries I quite ••••n stript▪ My hopes are hid; my sins doe me defile; And in my owne esteeme, ••y soule is vile. I will acknowledge all my aherrations, According to their utmost a gravations; And here consesse, that I deserve th••refore The losse of Mercies love for evermore; Which were a greater plague, then to abide All torments here, and all hell plagues beside. But, I repent my sinne: loe, I abhore it, And, with my heart, am truly sory for it. I feare thine anger, (but, to feare the love Of Mercy could be lost, would in me prove A greater horror) and no slavish dread, But loving feare, this griefe in me hath bred. It paines my soule, that I who have conceived Such pleas••re in thy favours, and received Such to ens of thy love, from day to day, Should passe a moment of my time away In any va••i••y; or live to be One minutes space without a thought of thee. But, more I grieve, that I should more ••ransgresse Then many doe, whom thou hast favour'd lesse. Although I am a sinner▪ yet I vow, I doe not in my soule my sinnes allow; But, I d••t••st them, and oft p••ay, and strive, That, I accord••n•• to thy Law may live. (At least I thinke I doe) and hopefull am, My love to thee is true, though much to blame.

In me there how rely rise (against my will) Those lusts which I should mortifie and kill: And as I am enabled, I doe smite As well the fat, as leane Amalekite. But, if I have a sin that is become My Ag••g; or as deare as Absolom, I wish a Samuel, or a loab may Destroy it e're my soule it shall betray. For, if my heart hath not it selfe deceived, It would, wi••h willingnesse, be quite bereaved Of what it most affects (yea, sacrifice That which is dear••r then my hands, or e••es) E're cher••sh, wittingly, w••thin my bre••••, A thought, which thy uprightn••sse doth detest. Thou knowest, that I take no pleasure in That act which I doe feare to be a sin: Much lesse if I doe k••ow i•• so: and, this Doth bitt••r make it, when I doe amisse. Though in my wayes my walkings, now and then, Appeare irregular to other men; (And other while may shewes of evill make) Because from thence offences others take, Yet, thought I not, it lesse offended thee To use it, then unus'd to let it be, I would not tread once more in such a path, To save my life, and all the joy it hath. But, should it cost my life I canno•• tell If (in some actions) I doe ill or well. For, many times, when I doe se••ke to shun A plash, into a whirlepoole I doe run. The Wolfe I flye, and loe, a Lyon frights me; I shun the Lyon, and a Viper bites me. A scandall followes, if I take my course; If I divert it, there 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a worse.

If I persist in that which I intend, It giveth some occasion to offend: If I forgoe it; my owne knowled esayes I fin, and scandall give some other wayes. I find not in my actions, or affections That thing that is not full of imperfections. I cannot doe a good or pious act But there is somewhat evill in the fact, Or in the manner; and it either ••ends To this mans d••mmage, or that man offends, Whatever I resolve upon, I finde It doth not fully satisfie my minde. I am so straitned, that I know not whence To finde the meanes of shunning an offence; And, if deare Mercy, thou assist me not, My fairest act will prove my foulest blot. The Wo••ld, our Fri••nd••, our Passion, or our Feare, Hath so intangled us, at unaware, With manifold engagements; and so drawes And win••es us, by degrees, into that Maze Of endlesse Wandrings; that it leads us to That sin, sometimes, wh••ch we abhor to doe: And, otherwhile so strangely giddifies The Reason, and the soules best Faculties; That (as I said before) we doe not know What in our selves to b••ke, or disallow. Yea, we such turnings and crosse wayes doe finde, That of••, our Guides (as well as we) ••e blinde. The Spi••it and the Flesh have their delight, In things, so diverse, and so opposite; And, such a Law of sinne doth still abide With••n our Members; that, we swarve aside Doe what we can: and, while we helpe the one, To what seemes needfull, th' ot•••••• is undone.

If by the Spirits motion, I proc••ed To compasse what I thinke my Soule may need, My Body wants the while; and I am faine To leave my course, that her I may sustaine: L••ft my engagements, or necessities, Might my well meant endeavor scandalize. If I but feed my Body, that it may Assist my Spirit in some lawfull way; It straight growes wanton: If I fast, it makes My spirit faint in what she undertakes: And, if I keepe a meane; meane fruits are they, (And little worth) which then produce I may. If in a Christi••n love some houres I spend To be a comfort to some female friend, Who needs my counfell: I doe cause, ••he while, Another with hot jealousies, to boyle: Nor know I how my selfe excuse I may Vnlesse anothers weaknesse I display. Which if I doe not, or some lye invent, They censure me unkinde, or impudent. I can nor doe, nor speake, nor thinke that thing; But, still, some inconvenience it will ••ring; Or, some occasion of anevill, be To me, or others; or to them, and me. And from the body of this Death, by whom But, by my Saviour, can I freed become? Oh! therefore, sweet Redeemer, succour lend me, And, from these bogs, and s••ares of sin, defend me▪ Deare God, assist in these perplexities, Which from our fraile condition doe arise. S••t straight, I pray thee, Lord, ••he crookednesse Oferring Nature; and these faults redresse. So out of frame, is ev••ry thing, in me, That, I can hope for cure, from none, but thee.

To thee I ther••fore kneele; to thee I pray; To thee my soule complaineth; ev'ry day: Doe thou but say, Be whole; or be thou cleane; And, I shall soone be pure, and sound, agen. The Will thou gav••st me, to affect thy Will, Though it continue not so perfect still, A•• when thou first bestow'dst the same; accept it, Ev'n such as my polluted Vessell kept it. For▪ though it wounded be, through many fights Continu'd with my carnall appetites: Yet, i•• my h••arts desire to me be knowne, Thy Pleasure I preferre before min•• ow••e. If I could chuse, I would not guil••y be Of any ••ct di••pl••asing unto thee. In all my life, I would not sp••••ke a word, But, th••t which to thy lik••ng might accord. I woul•• not thinke a thought but w••at might fhow, That f••om thy Spirit, all ••y ••usings flow. I would nor hate, nor love, nor hope, nor feare, But as unto thy praise it usefull were. I would not have a joy within my heart, Of which thou should••t not be the greater part. Nor would I live or dye, or happy be In life or death; but (Lord) to honour thee. Oh! let this Will (which is the precious seed Of thine o••••e Love) be taken for the deed. Assist thou m•• against the potent evill Of my great Foes, the World, the Flesh, the Devill. Renew my fainting pow'rs, my heart revive; Refresh my spirits, and my soule relieve. Lord draw me, by the cords of thy affection, And I shall fall in love with thy perfection. Vnloose my chaines, and I shall then be free; Convert me, and converted I shall be.

Yea, to my soule (oh God!) and to my senses Display thy beautie and thy exc••••lencies So plaine, that I may have them still in sight; And thou shalt ever be my sole delight. The world though she should into pieces teare me With troubles; from thy love should never scare me; Nor ••ble be to tempt me from one duty To ••he, with all her pleasure and her beauty. Behold; I came to seeke thee, Lord; ev'n here, Where, to attend thy presence most men feare. Though here I saw the Pestilence withstand me, I stand to know what worke thou wouldst command me. From all the pleasures of the world, and from H••r hopes of safety, I am b••••her come Where thou art angry: and to see thy frowne Am at thy feet, with terror, fallen downe. Yet, hence I would not flye (although I might) To gaine the chiefest of this worlds delight, Till I perceive thou bidd••st me goe away; And, then, for twenty wo••lds, I would not stay. I came as heartily as fl••sh and blood Could come (that hath in it so little good) To doe thee service: and, if dye I must▪ Loe, here I am; and, I pronounce thee just. Although thou sl••y me yet my soule well knowes Thou lov••st me: And Ile trust in thee repose. Though in my selfe I feele I am polluted; I finde a better righteousnesse imputed Then I have lost. Thy blessed Love doth fill me With joyes, that will rev••ve me, though thou kill me. My sins are great; ••ut thy compassion's greater. I ha••e thy Quittance, though I am thy Debtor. And, though my temp'rall hopes may be destroid▪ Yet, I have those, that never shall be void.

Thus, to the Lord, my soule I powred out, When I with d••ngers wa•• enclos'd about; And though I was a sinner, this appeased His wrath in Ch••ist, a••d my g••iev'd soule was eased▪ He graciously accepted, in good part, This poore oblation of an humbled heart. His Mercy se••l'd my pardon; and I shook The Pestilence (which hold upon me tooke) From off my shoulder, without sense of harme, As Paul did shake the Viper from his arme. That weeke, moreover, God beg••n to slack His Bow, and call his bloody Angell backe; VVho by degrees retyr'd, as he came on. For, weeke by weeke, untill it f••ll to none, The number which the Pestilence did kill, VVas constantly, and much abated still. VVhen we were fleating on that Inundation, At first we sent a carnall Lamentation; VVhich like the Raven (••rom Noahs Arke) did flye, And found nor rest▪ nor hope of remedy. Then sent we D••ve-like Mournings: but th•••••• feet A while could with no resting places mee•• Then forth againe we sent them, out from ••ence VVing'd with mo••e Charity, and Penitence. And then, they brought an Olive-b••anch of peace, VVhich made us hopefull of this Floods decrease. The Lord did favour to this Kingdome daigne, And, brought from thrall, his Iacob, back againe. His peoples crimes he freely did release; His ir•• abated; his hot rage did cease. His praise had in our Land a dwelling place; And Mercy there, with Iustice did embrace. And 'twas a grace to be considered, That a Disease, so generally spred,

(And so contagious) in few weeks should from So many thousands, to a cypher come. That our infectious beds, and roomes, and stuffe▪ (VVhich in all likelyhood had beene enough To keepe the Plague among us, till it had Our Cities, and our Townes unpeopled made, Should from their noy••omnesse, so soone be ••r••ed▪ Is out of doubt a matter worth our heed. Yea, tis a Mer••y (though most mind it not) VVhich in this Land should never be forgot: That from an enemy so dangerous, So great a City and so populous Should in three months be purified so, That all men might with safety, come and goe. For, e're the following Winter was expired, The Citizens were to their homes retired: The Terme from Reading, was recalled hither, From ev'ry Quarter, Clients came together; New trading was begun; another brood Soone fild the houses which unpeopled ••••ood; Our Gentry, tooke up their old rendevow; And such a concourse through our streets did flow, That ev'ry place was fill'd: and, of all those, (Those many thousands) who their lives did lose (But some ••ew mon••hs before) no want was found, The people ev'ry where did so abound. To thee oh Lord, to thee oh Lord! be praise: For, thou dost wound and cure, strike down and raise Thou kill'st, and mak'st alive: thou frownst at night, And, thou art pleased e're the morning light. VVhen we offend thee, thou a while dost leave us▪ VVhen we repent, thou dost againe receive us. To ruine thou deliver'st us; and then, R••turne againe (thou saift) ye sonnes of men.

For, in thy wisedome thou considered hast▪ That man is like a bubble, or a blast: A heape of Dust, a tuft of wither'd Grasse, A fading F••owre, that soone away doth passe: A Moment fled, which never shall retire; Or smoaking Flaxe, that quickly loseth fire. An idle ••reame, which nothing doth betoken; A bruised Reed, which may with ease be broken: And therefore ••ost in Iudgement, Mercy minde, Yea, in thy greatest anger thou art kinde. As is the space twixt heav'n a••d ea••th, above, So large, to those that feare thee, is thy love. As far ••s doth from È••st, the West ••eside, So f••r thou d••st from us our sins divide. Such a•• a father to his childe doth beare, S••••h love is thine, to those who thee do feare. T••y Iustice thou fro•• ••ge to age declarest; But, such as love thee, thou for ever sparest. I thou but turne away from us, thy face, Loe, we are breath••esse in a moments space. Thy looke doth us with life againe endue, And all our losses instantly renew. As oft as we rebell, thou dost forgive us; And though into dist••esse, sometime, thou drive us; Yet, alwa••es in our sorrowes we were eyed, And thou didst please to heare us when we cried. With t••••rst and hunger faint, some stray'd aside, To seeke a place where safe they might abide. With, worse then bands of iron, they were chained, And in the gloomy sh••des of D••ath detained. With h•••••• and ••ick••esse▪ they dejected were; And to deliver them; no helpe was there. Their wickedness•• when they were plagued for, Their soules th•• sweetest mor••••ls did abhor.

They for their follies, did afflicted lye, And, to the gates of Death approached nigh. Their soules within them were nigh dead with feare; Yea, they distracted, and amazed were. But, when to thee they called, they were eased, And out of all their troubles quite released. Thou sent'st abroad thy Word, and they were healed; Thy Wr••t of Indignation was repealed Frō out of Death's black shades t••ey were reprieved; And in their sorrowes and their paines relieved From East and West, from North & South, and from Their sev'rall wandrings, thou shalt call them home▪ In ev'ry quarter of the Realme thou soughtst ••hem; Yea to their City back againe thou broughtst them: And there (now) joy••u••l, and in health they be; From all their feares, and all their dangers free. Oh▪ would that men this love would think upon, And tell their seed what wonders thou hast done: Would they, Oblations, of thanksgiving, bringing, Thy works would praise, and publish them, in singing. Oh! would they were so wise that they might lea••ne Thine infinite compassion to discerne; And that they would assist me to declare, How grea•• thy Iudgements and thy Mercies are! Though none can of thy favours make relation, Nor fully utter all thy commendation; Yet, let us doe our best, that we may raise A thankfull Trophee to thy boundlesse praise. Let us, whom thou hast saved, thee con••esse. And to our utmost pow'r t••y goodnesse blesse. Let us proclaime thy bounties, in the street, And, preach thee where ou•• Congregations meet. Let us in private, at noone, morne, and night, And in all pl••ces, in thy praise delight.

Let Prince, and Priest, and People, old, and yong, The rich, the poore, the feeble, and the strong, Men, Angels, and all creatures that have name, Vnite their pow'rs, to publish out thy fame. But, howsoever, others may endevor, Let me oh! God, let me oh God! persever To magnifie thy glory. Let nor day, Nor any morne, or evening, passe away, In which I shall not to remembrance bring Thy Iudgements; and of thy great Mercy, sing. Let, never whilst I live, my heart forget Those Dangers, and that strong entangled Net, In which my soule was hamper'd. Let me see (When, in this world, I shall best pleased be) My dangers such appearing as they were, When me, they ••ound about enclosed here: Yea, when, o'rewhelm'd, with terrors, I did call, Like Ionas, from the belly of the Whale, And was deliver'd. Lord, remember thou, That with unfainednesse, I beg thee, now, To keepe me alwayes mind••ull of thy love. And, if herea••ter, I forgetfull prove; Let this unfainednesse which thou dost give, An Earnest be, of what I shall receive In time to come Refresh my cooled zeale, And let thy Spirit, thy hid Love reveale. Let nor the fawning World, nor cunning Devill, Nor wanton Flesh, incite my heart to evill. Let not my wand••ing eyes, be tempted by Those Objects that a••lure to Vanity; Nor let my eares be charmed by their tongues, Wh•• to betray me, chant out Syren-songs. Let me nor taste a Pleasure, nor obtaine That carnall Rest, whereof I am so faine▪

Till it shall make me plainly to perceive Thy love▪ and teach me, foolish paths, to leave. Let me be still in want; and ever striving With some affl••ctions (whilst that I am living) Till they for better Fortunes, better me: And, then, let into Rest, my entrance be. From yeare to yeare, (as thou hast yearly done) New sorrowes, and new trials bring thou on My stubborne heart, till thou hast softned it, And▪ made it, for thy service, truly fi••: Bu••, give me hopes, and daily comforts too, To strengthen me, as thou hast us'd to doe. And, that, in Iustice, Mercy may appeare, Inflict (Oh Lord!) no more then I can beare. I feele (and tremble that I feele it thus) My flesh hath f••ailties which are dangerous, To mine owne safety: and as soone as thou Shalt quite remove the feares that seize me now; My sense of thee, and those good thoughts (I doubt) May faile within me, or be rooted out. Some L••st may quēch them, or some Care may choke them, Vaine ho••••s may vaile thē or new-thoughts revoke thē; The wisdome of the world, or of the Devill, Or, some suggestion, in my selfe, that's evill, May urge, perhaps, that it is melancholy, Whic•• fills me no••; that superstitious folly Begot this awfulnesse; that ••his Disease Did accid••nt••lly, our C••t•• seize; And, that 'tis vaine to muse so much upon Those times or trou••les, that are past and gone. Oh! rather, then it should in me be so, Some other house of Sorrow send me to; And keepe me, Lord, perpetuall pris'ner there, Till all such dangers overpassed are.

Nor weale nor woe I crave, but part of either, As with my tem••er best agrees together. For, joy without ••hy grace, is griefes encreasing, And wealth is poverty, without thy blessing. But if by passing this lifes p••rging fires, Thou shalt so purifie my hearts desires, That without perill to my hopes of heav'n, A temp'rall rest may at the last be giv'n; Vouchsafe it Lord, ev'n for the good of them Who my best resolutions, yet, condemne. Let the•• discerne, thou blessings hast provided, For that, which they unjustly have derided. Thou her••tofo••e didst heare thy Servant call, And mad'st me free when I was close in thrall. Oh! to those ••o••tals make me not a scorne, Who to my Sham•• my Glory seeke to turne: But let it in thy time to them appeare, That thou didst me e••ect, and me wilt heare. Let them perceive (though they my Lott disdaine) The promise of this Life doth appertaine To me as unto them. And for their sakes Whose weaknesse, otherwhile, of••ences takes At my perpetuall scandals; let their eye Behold the ••urne of my Cap••ivity; And know tha•• I have walked in a path, Which, in this life time, some smooth paces hath. B••t, nought repine I, though this boone thou grant not. For, that which thou to me deny'st I want not. I know thy Wisedome knowes what best will fit me: I know thy Pow'r enough those things to get me: I know thy Love is large enough to me: I know thy Pleasure should my pleasure be: Thy will be done, and hallowed be thy Name, Although it be through my perpetuall shame.

Whilst on such Meditations I was fe••ding My pleased soule (and Gods great goodnes heeding) That I might fill her with contemplating On him, from whom all happinesse doth spring: A suddaine Rapture did my Muse prepare For higher thi••gs then she did lately dare. Me thought, I saw Gods Iu••tice and his Love Installed on one throne in heav'n above. I had imperfect fights, and glimmering notions, Concerning some of their parti••••lar motions, About this Orbe. I much perceiv'd, me thought, O those their wondrous works w^c they had w••ough•• In former dayes. And, as within a Glasse, Some things I saw, which they will bring to passe In future times. By helpe of Gods great Booke, (Which for my Ephimerides I tooke) I had proc••r'd a large intelligence Of Iustice and of Mercies Influence. There, learned I theseverall Aspects, And, of those St••ries the severall effects: W••ile in co••juncti••n those two Lights I saw; The best Alt••o••o••ers could never draw From all the pl••n••t••ry Constellations (Ev'n 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••heir best) such heav'nly consolations. I co••••d conjectu••e of their wo••ke divine, In S••xtile, or in Qu••drine, or in Trine; And what pro••igious Plagues the world should fright If their asp••ct were wholly Opposite. Some things, by calculation I discerned, Which this our British Latitude concerned; And most of them not much impertinent For all Mer••dians through Earths Continent. I saw of Weale and Woe the many ranges: I saw the restlesse Wheele of mortall changes:

I saw how Cities, Common-wealths, and Men, Did rise and fall, and ••ise and fall agen. I saw the reason, why all Times and States, Have such vicissitudes, and various fates. I saw what doth occasion War, and Peace; What causeth Dearth, and what doth bring Encrease. I saw what hardens, and what mollifies; And whence all Blessings, and all Plagues arise▪ I saw how sins are linked in together As in a Chai••••; how one doth cause another; And how to ev'ry linke throughout the Chaine, Are fixt those Plagues which to that Crime pertaine▪ I saw un••eal'd, that hellish Mystery, Of carnall and meere wor••dly ••olicy, Whereby the Devill fooles this generation, And brings on Christendome such molestation. I saw (as plaine, as ever I did see The Sun at none) what damned projects be Veild o're with Piety, and Holy zeale: And how, a Christian Ath'isme now doth steale Vpon this age. Forgive me that I saw A Christian Ath'isme; for, ev'n to betray Christ Iesus, Christ and Iesus, those two Names, Are oft usurped; and it us defames. I saw, why some abuse their holy Calling, And why so many Stars from heav'n are falling. I had a Licence given me, to come Where I might see the Dev••ls Tiring-roome, And, all the Maskes, the Visards, and Disguises, Which he to murther, cheat, or rob, devises. And weares himselfe, or lends false-hearted brothers Therewith to foole themselves, or cozen others. Here lay a Box of zeale prof••ssing Eyes, Which serve for acting of Hypocrisies.

Hard by, another, full of Double-hearts, For those who play the Amb••dexters parts. There, stood a Ch••st of counterfeited Graces; Another, full of honest-seeming Faces. Yo••n, hung a suit, which, had some Traytor got, He might have pass••d for a Patriot. Close by, were pr••ss•• fuls of such suits, as they Doe wea••e (in ev'ry Kingdome at this day) Who passe for Statesmen; when, God knowes, they be As far from that, as knaves from loving me. There, hung those masking-suits, in which the Popes, And Cardinals, pursue their carnall hopes. There, were those fo••mall Garbs, wherein false friends Disguise themselves, for some unfaithfull ends. Faire counterfeits for Bishops saw I there, So like their habits that are most sincere, (And so be••ainted) that if they were set Vpon the back of our Arch counterfeit, He could not be distinguisht from the best O•• all those Prelates, that have Christ profest. There, view'd I all those juggling sleights with w^ch Men worke false miracles; and, so, betwitch Deluded soules There, saw I all the trick•• And Fa••tosmes wherewithall our Schismaticks Abuse themselves and others. There (with ruth) I saw false-Doctrines, t••imm'd about with Truth; Fac'd out, with Fathers; pee••'d, and neatly dea••ned, With Sentences, and Sayings, of the Learned. Yea, with Gods holy Scriptures, interweaved, So cunningly, as w••uld have nigh deceived Ev'n hi•• Elect: (and, many a one, alas, Of these, for Christian Verities doth passe.) I saw moreover, with what Robes of Light, The King of Darknesse doth his person dight▪

To make it Angel like; and how he scrues Himselfe among our musings, to abuse Our understandings; how he layes his hooks▪ And baits, at Sermons, and in godly-books; (Although the Authors had, in their invention, A pious meaning, and a good intention) I saw what venome he doth hurle into Our heert'est prayers, and those works we doe In purest charity: and how he strives To poison us in our preservatives. When all these M••skings, and a thousand moe, My apprehensions eye had lookt into: From thence my Con••emplation rais'd my thought, And, to a higher Station I was brought. There, I beheld what ruine and confusion, Was of these M••mmeries, the sad conclusion. There, ••aw I what Catastroph••s attend Those Vanities, wherein ou•• times we spend: How God still counterworks▪ and overthrowes The projects of the Devill, and our Fo••s. And, tell I could (••ut that it would be prated, I some Propheti••k spirit arrogated) Strange newes to those m••n•• eares, who have not learned What nay, by M••litation, be dis••erned▪ Yet, all th•••• •• conce••v•• I cannot write: Nor would I though I co••ld: for, so I might Throw Pearles to Swi••n; of whom I may be torne▪ Be t••ampled in the m••re, and ma••e a scorne. Nay, tell m•• sel••e I d••re not, what I spy, When I have ••••oughts of most transcendency; Lest Pride possesse me, and should cast me downe, As far below, as I on high hav•• flowne: For, when we nearest unto heav'n do so••re, (Till we are there) our perils are the more;

Since, there is wicked••esse which we doe call The wickednesse that is spi••itu••ll In he••v'nly places And as we doe know The••e is a Light••ing which dot•• oft••n goe Quite thr••ugh t••e body, to the vitall pa••t, And kill the very spirits at the h••art, Y••t never harme the fl••sh; becau•••• it m••y Through v'ry por••us member make it way W••thout impr••ssi••n▪ So, from our offences, Th•• Devill doth extract some Q••••ntess••••ses▪ Which we may rightly nam••, the spiri•• of 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ And, til•• ou•• thoughts have sublimat••d bin, They a••e too grosse for that to worke upon. But, when ••uc•• Sublimations are begun, He do••h infuse his ••hym••ca••l receipt, And, ••ither w••••k•• precipita••••on, st••a••ght, O•• m••kes those V••••tues, which pure gold were thogh•• When they shall come to triall, worse then nought▪ I saw this danger (as my soule did flye To God ward) and the Devills Chymistry, I lear••••d how to frust••ate; by assuming H••mil••••y▪ and shunning high presuming. I, of those lovel•• G••ace••, got the view, Which te••ch us how such peril•• to eschew. I learned there, how th••y m••g••t be p••ocured; How the•• continu••nce might be still secured; And, in my pow'•• i•• is not to expr••sse, How I was fi••l'd with h••pes of happinesse. My thoughts (yet) climbed higher and perceive•• A ••l••mpse o•• thin••s ••h••t ca••not be ••onc••ived. The Love of God; the Ioyes that are ••o co••e; A••d many fights ••hat long were h••dden from My blinded Soule. This, set my heart ••n fire To climbe a lit••le, and a little high••••;

Till I was up so high, that I did see The World, but like an Atome, under me. Me thought, it was not worth my looking on; Much lesse, the setting of my love upon. My soule did strive to mixe her selfe among The Cherubins, and in their Angell-song To beare a part; and, secrets to unskreene, That cannot by our mortall eyes be seene. And, I would gladly thither have ascended, Whe••e joyes are perfect, and all woes are ended. As thus I mounted; by degrees I felt My strength to faile me, and my wings to melt: My flesh waxt faint; my objects grew too pure, For my grosse understanding to endure. A kind of shuddring did my heart surprise, Like that which comes when sudden thoughts arise. I far'd like him, who sleeping, dreames of store, And waking, finds himselfe exceeding poore. A pow'r unseene, did hold upon me take, And, to my soule, to this effect it spake. "I say it was Gods Spirit; if you doubt "I arrogate, come heare the matter out: "For, who the Speaker is, that will disclose: "And, if 'twere he, his Flocke, his language knowes. Despaire not Soule (it said) though thou art faine To sinke from these, to common thoughts againe. Nor murmur thou, that yet thou must not rise To thy wisht height. God's favo••r will suffise For that which wants; and these high thoughts are giv'n In earnest of chat part of thine in heav'n, Which by t••y Royall Master is prepared; And, in thy time allotted, shall be shared. St••ive to ascend; but straine not over long, Thy cl••mbing spirits, lest thou doe them wrong.

The Flesh is heavy, though the Soule be light▪ And, Heav'n is seldome reached at one flight. Mount high; but, mount not higher then thy bound; Lest thou be loft, and all that thou hast found. Search deepe; but search no deeper then thy pow'r; Lest some infernall Depth may thee devoure. Obse••ve thy Makers glory by reflection; But, gaze not overmuch at his perfection; Lest that great lustre blinde thee. Take thou heed, Lest while thou thinkst thou homeward dost proceed, Thou quite be loft: For, though these flights do raise Thy Soule with pleasure, they are dangerous waye••. When higher then the vulgar pitch she towres She meets with Principalities, and Pow'rs, Who wrestle with her, that she may not rise▪ Or tempt her on, by Curiosities, To lead the mind astray, untill it wanders Among the windings of unsafe Meanders. Then doth it whirle about, to see things hidden; Pryes after Secresies that are forbidden; And by a path, which tends to Heav'n, in show, Arivéth, unaware, at Hell below. Take heedof this▪ the way to heav'n is steep; Yet, e're thou climbe it, thou must often creep. The worke appointed thee, is yet unended, And, Gods good pleasure must be still attended Ev'n in this world, untill he cal•• thee thence. His Kingdome must be got by vi••lence. Thou must with many frailties, yet, contend, Before thy Christian warfare hath an end. The World is brewing yet another Cup Of Bitternesse, for thee to swallow up. Thou hast from Heav'n an Arrand yet to doe, Which (if God hinder not) will call thee to

More troubles, and more hatred bring upon thee, Then all thy former Messages have won thee. And be thou sure, the Devill will devise Al•• sl••nders, and all wicked infamies That may dispa••age thee: or ••ruitlesse make, That use ••ll wo••ke which thou dost unde••take. Thou must prepare t••ine eares to ••eare the noise▪ Of causelesse thre••tnings, or the foolish voic•• Of ignor••nt ••epr••vers▪ ••nd expect The secret C••••sures of ea••h g••ddy Sect. Thou must provide thy selfe, to hea••e great Lords Talke, withou•• ••eason, big impe••ious wo••ds. Thou must contented be to make repai••e (If need require) before the Scorn••rs Chaire, To heare t••em jeere, and flout, and take in hand To scoffe at what ••hey do•• not understand. Or say, perhaps, that of t••y selfe thou mak'st Some goodly thing; or th••t thou undertak'st Above thy Calling; or u••warranted: Not heeding from who••e mouth it hath bin sed, "Gods Wisdome oft elects, what m••n despise; "And foolish things, to foole the worldly wise. But ••ea••e thou n••t. For, he that in all places, And from all dangers, wants, and all disgraces, Hath hi••herto preserv'd the••; will secure Thy safety now. That hand which did procure Release from thy clo••e Thraldomes, and maintained Thy hea••t content, while thou went so restrained; Will be the same for ever: and, like stubble, Consume; or, like the weakest water-bubbl••. Dissolve t••e force of ev'ry machination▪ Whereby the world shall seek thy molestation. Thoug•• thou in knowledg•• ar•• a Child, as yet; And, seemest not by outward Calling fi••

For such a taske: yet, doe not thou disable What God shall please to say is warrantable. His Word, remaineth s••ill in date, which sayes, That, On the children of the later dayes, He would poure out a measure of his Spirit; And, thou the••eof a portion shalt inherit. Though thou d••spised art; yet God by thee Shall bring to passe a worke which strange will be To most beholders; and, no doubt, it shall Occasion some to stand, and some to fall. For, men to ruine doom'd, will misconceive it; And, they that shall have safety, will receive it. Thy God ha••h toucht thy Tongue, and tipt thy Pen; And, t••erefore, feare not thou the face of men, Lest ••e destroy thee. For, this day to stand 'Gainst Princes, Priests, and People of this Land, Thou a••t appointed: and they shall in vaine Contend. For, thou the conquest shalt obtaine. Al••hough that viperous Brood upon thee lights, Whose pois'ned tongue with killing slander smites; And, though the ba••barous People of this Ile, Doe thereupon adjudge thee, for a while, A man so wicked▪ that (although thou hast The Sea of Troubles, without ship wrack, past) Gods Vengeance will not suffer thee to live The life of honest Fame: Let that not grieve Thy heart a whit. F••r, though their eyes doe see Reproaches, which like Vipers, hanging be, Vpon thy flesh; th••y shall perceive e're long, That thou (unharmed) them away hast flung. And they who did exp••ct to see thee fall, For thy firme standing, p••aise Gods mercy shall. Against oppression, he will ••afe maintaine thee, Ev'n God, who oft did his protection daigne thee;

And tooke thy part against all those, that sought How they thy Muse, to silence, might have brought. He, that preserv'd thee from this plague, will save thee: For, he thy life ev'n of meere mercy, gave thee, To serve him with Thou knowst thou art a Brand, Snatcht from the flaming fire, by Gods owne hand; And that to him thou owest, all thou art, And all thy Faculties, in ev'••y part. Take heed, therefore, that nothing thou refuse To utter, which he prompts unto thy Muse. Be constant: and, Elihu-like, beware That thou accept not persons; nor declare With glozing ••i••les, that which thou shalt say; Left God may take thee suddenly away: But, publish that which he of thee requires, In termes, and words, as he the same inspires. For, to this Realme and City thou art sent, To warne, that of their follies they repent; To shew for what omissions, and offences, God sendeth Famines, Wars, and Pestilences; And to pronounce what other plagues will come, If their Transgressions they depart not from. Indeed, of Priests and Prophets, store have they, And, some of them are like enough to s••y; When came the Spirit of the Lord to thee, From us, who no such dangers can foresee As thou pretendest? These are they that share The pleasures of the time, with such as are The Lands perdition. These are they which tye Soft pillowes to mens elbowes; and still cry Peace, peace; ev'n when perd••tion, hanging over The peoples heads, they plainly m••y discover. But, they that are true Priests of God among them, And his true Prophets, think not, he doth wrong thē,

If he doe chuse a Heardman: nor will such ••nvy the same (or at the blessing grutch) I•• all were Prophets, and God pleased were To make that Gift to ev'ry man appeare. Though Gods own presence, had made Moses wise; Yet. Iethro's counsell would he not despise. He, whom the Angell fed, did also eat Ev'n when the Ravers came to bring him meat: And, all that of their spirit partners be, Will heare what's good, though published by thee. Behold; this thanklesse P••ople (from whose Land God hath but newly tooke his heavy hand) Forget already what his mercy hath Vouchsafed; and his late enflamed wrath. S••e, how they flocke together, to pursue New mis••hiefes, and old follies to renew. Their evill courses, they afresh begin; And, ev'n those very purposes of sin, Whose p••osecution this great Plague hath staid, To finish now they are no whit afraid. Those Discords which they, many times, pretended, Amid their feares, should christian••y be ended, (If God would spare them) are againe revived; And divers new malicious plots contrived. Those Lusts, of which th••y seemed much ashamed; Those Vanities, for w••••ch themselves they blamed; Those Bargains, whic•• their conscience did perswade Were wicked; & o•• ••od abhorred made them; (thē, That Pride; that Slo••••; that Envy; that Excesse; That C••uelty; t••at I••religiousnesse; Yea, all that wickednesse pur••ude before, (And which they fai•••••• so truly to deplore) Returnes with intere••t; and they contemne Good things; as if the Plague had hardned them.

Like Phar'oh, they repented while the Rod Was laid upon them. But, as soone as God Removed it; their mindes they changed too; And would not let their evill customes goe. Goe therefore instantly, goe draw the Map Of that great Plague from which they did eseape: Set thou before their eyes, as in a glasse, How great Gods Mercy, and their danger was. Lay open their grosse crimes, that they may see How hatefull, and how infinite they be. Declare what mischiefes their enormities Have caused; and will daily cause to rise. Pronounce those Iudgements which Gods holy Word Doth for the Wages of their Crimes record. And (as the blessed Spirit shall enable, Thy Muse; and, show thee what is warrantable) Tell boldly, what will on their wayes attend, Vnlesse their lives and courses they ••mend. D••lay it not; and let no worke of thine; No goodly-seeming hope, or faire designe, (How promising soeve••) draw thee from This Taske, untill unto an end it come. For, no affaire of thine shall finde successe, Till thou hast finisht this great Businesse. If any man that is thy friend, or foe, Shall this deride; and say it is not so; But, that thy Fancy onely eggeth on Thy Muse: or, that to doe, or leave undone This worke, were much alike. If any ••ay Thou maist proceed herein, with such delay, As, vulgarly, dis••retion thinketh fit: Or, as thy common Bus'nesse will permit. Nay, if thou meet, as thou maist me••t with some, Who like a Prophet, unto thee will come;

And (as the Man of G••d seduced was, Who told in Bethel what should come to passe Concerning Ieroboams Altar there) Perswading thee, those thoughts delusions are: That, selfe-conceit, or pride, hath made thee dreame That thou art bound to prosecute this Theame: Beleeve them not. For, if that Man of God Here mentioned, did feele so sha••pe a rod, When his delay was but to eate and drinke; (Perchance through hunger) and when he did think A Prophet sent by God, had licenc'd him: Take heed thou doe not this advice contemne. For, since this motion urgeth nought that's ill, Nor contradicteth Gods revealed will; But rather helpes effect it: since he moves it So nat'rally, that thine owne soule approves it To be his act; beware how thou suspect it, Or how thou shalt be carelesse to effect it. Let not a worldly wisedome, (nor the scoffe Of any) from this motive drive thee off. Take heed the feare of dangers, not the losse Of carnall hopes, thy purpose, herein, crosse. Take heed, that Ionas-l••ke, thou be not bent To Tharsus▪ when thou knowst that thou art sent To Niniveh. For, all thy doubts, and feare, Will be as causelesse, as his doubtings were: And be thou sure, that wheresoe're thou be, A Tempest and a Whale shall follow thee. My heart receiv'd this Message; did allow It came from God; and made a solemne Vow▪ It would not entertaine a serious thought Of any worldly thing, till that were brought To full perfection: no, although it might Endanger losing my best fortune quite.

But, oh I how fraile is Man? and how unable In any goodnesse to continue stable? How subtile is the Devill? and what b••its, And undermining policies and sleights, Hath he to coozen us? My soule was raised So high, e'rewhile, that I admir'd and praised My blest estate: And thought, with D••vid, then, My heart sh••ll never be r••mov'd age••. But, see, how soone, if God withdraw his eye▪ We fall to hell, that up to heav••n did flye. I would have sworne (when in my Con••emplation, I was ascended to t••at lofty Station, So lately mention'd) that I should h••ve scorn'd The goodl'est prize the Devill could have subo••n'd To tempt me by. I thought, if God had said, Doe this; that (though the World had all beene laid To be my wages, if I should delay The doing of the same▪ but halfe a day) 〈…〉〈…〉 ••••ve rather cho••e to have forsaken My life: then so to have beene overtaken. Yet, lo••; so craftily a bait was laid; S••••h showes of Goo••nesse▪ thereinto convaid▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 meanes of hel••e to Piety, pretended; ••o me so seem'd it, to be re••ommended By God himselfe; and, such necessity App••ar'd of taking opportunity As th••n it off••ed was, that I suspected I had ••one ill, the same to have neglected. N••y, to my Vnderstanding, true Disc••etion, And, all the Wisdome of this Generation, Did ••o concur together to betray My h••a••t; that I did foolishly delay The Tas•• enjoy'd. Yea, what I had bgun, (Proceed••d in) and pu••pos'd should be do••••

Before my best affaires; ev'n that I threw Aside; and other hopes I did pursue. I brake my Vow, and I was led awry For that which was mor•• light then Vanity; And so my hopes my judgement did beguil••, That, I supposed all was well th•• while. Most, also, th••ught me wi••ely to ha••e done, And, ••uch a fortune to have lighted on; That o••h••rs, of my happinesse, began To talke; and reckon me a prosp••rous man. But, many scandals, passions, and vexations, Much hindrance, and a wo••ld of perturba••ions, Pursued me; to let me unde••stand, That I had taken some wrong ••ct in hand. For, though like Ionas, I resolv'd not quite From Gods commands to make a stubbo••ne slight; Yet w••nt I to his Worke the fu••thest way▪ And, travell'd, as mine owne occasions lay. Which he perceiving, s••nt a Storme that c••est me; Mad•• shipwracke of my hopes; my labou•• les•• me; Bef••ol'd my wisdom••; of ••uch joy bere••t me; Within the Sea of many troubles lest me; And, what with speed and ease I ••ight have done At first▪ hath long with paine beene lingred on. Yea, when the Ha••v••st of my g••eat r••pute Was looked for (and most expected fruit) It proved chaffe; and, plainly I perceived, That God had suffred me to be d••ceived; To warne me, that hereafter, I should never▪ Omit, for any reason what••oever, His motions; nor with holy vowes d••spense: B••t worke his pl••••sure, with all diligence. Which after I had heeded, I descry'd By what, and whither, I was drawne aside▪

I plainly saw, that what I then had sought W••th hope of comfort, would my woe have wrough••▪ I f••und that likely to have beene to me A Curse, which promised my Blisse to be. I prai••ed God, as for a savour done, That he did lose m••, what I might have won: And what the world did think me hapl••sse in, I ••ound a gracious blessing to have bin. I s••w my fault; I saw, in vaine I sought To worke my will, till •• Gods will had wrought. I saw that while the furthest way I went, Gods Mercy did my foolishnesse prevent: Yea, made it (by his providence divine) A great advantage to his owne Designe. And, for my negligence when I had mourned, To my propos••d Labour, I r••turned. I begg'd of God ••hat he would give me grace, To be more constant in a godly race. I did beseech him to bestow againe Those Apprehensions, which my hopes in vaine Had made me lose: and that, for my demerit▪ He would not q••ench in me his holy Spirit: But, gran•• me pow'r to prosecute my story, And utter forth his Message, to his ••lory. My su••e was heard: I got wh••t I desired: My soule, with m••tter, was anew inspired. M•• eyes were clear'd; my heart was new enlarged: Bold Resolu••ions h••d all F••ares discharged: And, that which was d••sclosed unto me, Doth appertaine, G••eat Britaine, unto the••▪ Come heare me the••efore; for, howe're thou t••ke it▪ My Conscience bids me, and I meane to speake it. Within thy pow'r thou hast me; and what e're Shall good and right in thine owne ey••s appeare,

Thou maist inflict upon me: But, this kn••w, That what I shall declare, God bids me show; And that, if I for this, have harme, or shame; My God shall at thy hands require the sam••. Oh! let not my requests in vaine be made; Nor to thy former sinnes, another adde. And, my sweet Country, and deare Co••ntrimen, Let not these overflowings of my pen Distastfull be; as if their spring had beene▪ But either from the Gall, or from the Spleene. Let not this ages false Int••rpr••ter, (Which makes both Iudgement and Affection erre) Corrupt my Text, by their false Commentary, To make your good opinions to miscary. For, though in me (as in all flesh and blood) M••ch error hinders from that perfect good Which I ••ffect: y••t I his meed may claime, Who makes Gods glory, and your weale his ayme; And, begs but of his words a pa••ient hearing; And, from your follies a discreet forbea••ing. If there be Truth, and Reason, in the M••ss••ge, Let not my person hinder my Ambass••ge. If God shall in his Mercy pleased be, To make a Factor for his praise of me; Let none the poorenesse of my gifts de••ide, Since he to no ••xternall meanes is ty'd. Despise not what I speake, for what I am; Vnlesse you find the mat••er be to blame. For, God by Babes and Sucklings, oft, reve••l••s, What from the wisest worldlings he conceales. Both Heav'n and Earth, to witnesse here I c••ll, I dar'd not speake what now I utter shall, Vnlesse I thought, that God did me inspire; And would this duty at my hands require.

Nor dar'd I to be silent, though I kn••w That ev'ry m••n had vowed ••o pursue My So••le to D••ath; because m•• conscience takes A••kn••wl••dgement, that God w••thin me speakes. I doe not this, for that I se••selesse am, (Oh! Englan••) of thy infamy or shame: For, thy dishonor doth concerne me nearly; And thee my he••rt affect••th far more dearly, Then cow••rds doe their lives. I would dist••ll My blood (as inke is drained from my quill) Ev'n drop by drop; or else, at once, le•• all Gush forth, to save thy honor from a fall. I aime not at a vaine or fruitlesse glory, B•• d••ring: for, I know the mortall story Of all the glorioust actions, that are under The heav'ns large curt••in, are but nine daies wō••er. And that the most deserving workes we doe, M••y ruin•• us, and helpe disgrace us too. I doe it not that I may wealthy grow: For, I the worlds rewards already know ••n such attempts. Experience I have g••ined, What poore preferments this way are ob••ained. My former Strain••s (which did but way prepare For that, which I hereaft••r should declare) R••ceived evermore the worst reward, As they grew better worthy of regard. A•••• (if God let not) as these are my best, M•• troubles, will for them, exceed the rest. Tis odds, but that the wilfull Generation, F•••• who•• I write this large Anticipation, (••o stay their censur••) will scarce reade so f••r, A•• hitherto, where th••se Preventions are: B••t, here, and there, picke out some tart relations, W••••hout observing of those moderations

That follow or precede them. Else, perchance Their brazen and Herculcan Ignorance Will strongly keepe that Vnderstanding from them, Whereby the pow'r of Reason might o'recome them. Some also, peradventur••, will ••orget, How, when I formerly was round beset W••th many troubles, I did still despise The r••ging fury of mine enemies. Yea some, no doubt, will have a minde to see What kinde of pow'r, there is in them, or me; And whilst such men there are, he thinks amisse, Who thinkes to thrive by such a course as this. Tis not from envy of their Lott, who grow Great men, or wealthy, whence these lines doe flow▪ For, I rejoi••e in each mans happinesse, Th••t to Go••s praise, good fortunes doth poss••sse: And they that know my person, witnesse can, My lookes assure, I am no envious man. It i•• not malice that hath wrought upon My Passi••ns: for, I vow, I malice none. No line or word of this which now I write, Proceeds from r••ncor, or unchristian spight. When I have wrong received, if I say Wher••in; what harme doe I in th••t I p••ay? 'Twere much if when we inju••y susta••ne, We neither may have helpe, nor ye•• complaine. 'Twere hard, if knowing I had many foes, I might not say so, lest some should suppose What Names they bear. To no man this wil show thē, But, unto ••uch as doe already know them. Nor▪ when I mention wrongs, doe I intend Their shame who doe them; but some better end. For, they that yet are enemies of mine, May prove Go••s friends, and to my good encline.

I wis•• them well, what e're they wish to me; And of their harm•• wou••d no procurer be. In gen'rall termes, I point out those that orre; With none I meddle in particular: For, knaves and honest men a••e so alike, In many things, that I amisse may strike. I finde the faults; let others finde the men. I no man judge; let no man judge me then. My M••se ••ath not usurped this Commission: No•• arrogateth to mine owne condition, More excellence then others: But, I shar•• A part in those rep••oofes that others b••a••e. I doe not thinke mine owne a spotlesse eye, Because it faults in others can ••spye. I never thought it was enough for me, A Criticke in my neighbours faults to be, Vnlesse I m••rkt mine owne: which here I doe▪ And ch••ck the wo••lds and m••n•• owne errors too. I meane t•• winke at n••n••; at none I ayme; To heed or friend•• or foes▪ I doe disclaime. My Bow i•• bent, and I must sho••t a flight▪ Of shafts, that wil•• ••n d••ver•• places light. Perhaps some o•• them my best friends may wound▪ Vpo•• my self••, som•• o••he••s m••y rebound. S••••e (shot alo••t) may ••••ar the Kites that flye A••ove th•• clouds, themselves to Eaglifie. Some p••er••e t••e••r s••des, who thoght they had bin got B••••ond th•• re••ching of my winge•• shot. A•••• some who thou••ht th••y h••d concealed beene, M••y fe••le my ar••ow••••, wh••re they lurke unseene. Ligh•• w••ere they w••ll the car••'s already tooke: Si••c•• none but he tha••'s guilty can b•• strooke. Hist thou fo••got, oh! Britain••, (and so soone) ••hy lates afflictions, and Gods graci••us boone?

As soone as e're thy necke unflacked feeles The curbing Reine, dost thou let flye thy heeles? Shall nor Gods Iustic••, nor his matchlesse Love▪ Thy flinty nature to repentance move? But wilt thou still in crooked paths persever, And of thy Vanities repent thee never? Oh! looke about thee; yea, looke backe, and see What wondrous things thy God hath done for thee. Thou wert in future times, an uncouth place▪ That had of wildnesse the deformed face. Thou wert long time, the seat of Desolation, And when thou had••t but slender reputation, God lookt upon thee, with the first of all Those Gentiles, whom in mercy he did call. Of his beloved Vineyards, thou wert one; And s••••uate like that, once plac'd upon The fruitfulst Hill. God, for thy Fence prepared A naturall wall, by ••is owne hands uprear••d. He tooke away that stony heartednesse, Which did thy heathnish children first possesse; And hath beene pleased, many times, since th••n, To gather out those flinty hearted men, Who by a bloody persecuting hand, Did harme thy tender Sapling•• in thy Land. He plucked out of thee the stinki••g weeds Of Sin and Superst••tion; that the seeds Of Truth and Hol••ne••se might here be sowne, Where wickednesse the so••le had overgrowne. The choicest Plants (of that Vine-mys••icall, His onely-Sonne) he planted thee withall. The stately Watch towre of his P••ovidence Compleatly furnished, for thy defence, In thee was builded up; and did appeare To many other Kingdomes, far and neare:

And on the lofty Turrets of the same He set his Flags, and Ensignes of his Name, Whose beautious Colours being wide displaid, Did make thy adversaries all afraid. Within thy Borders, hath his Love divine The Wine-presse, of a Christian discipline Erected; and in ev'ry season given (To make thee fruitful) dewes & showrs from heav'n. Yea thou hast had, since food of life grew scanty, Not barely seven, but seventy yeares of plenty. What grace soever might repeated be That God for Isr'el did, he did for thee. He from a thraldome, worse then they sustained, While in th' Aegyptian bond••ge they remain••d, Did bring thy Children thorough Baptismes Flood, And drowne thy Fo••s, within a Sea of Blood. Thy Coast unto a large extent he stretcheth, For, ev'n from Sea to Sea it compasse fetcheth▪ Thy Land with Milke and Hony over-flowes. In thee all pleasure, and all plenty growes. God kept thee as the apple of an eye; And, as when Eglets are first taught to flye, Their Dam about th••m hovers; so, thy God, Doth over thee, display his wings abroad. A Land of Hils and Dales thou wert created; And in a Clime, so pro••itable, seated, Th••t whereas many other Lands are faine To water all their seeds, and plants, with paine, Thou fav'st that labour: for, the Dewes yeeld matter To ch••ere thy Gardens, and the Clouds bring water. Faire Woods & Groves, do yet adorn thy Mountain••; Thou a••t a Land of Rivers, and of•• ountaines: Springs hot and cold, and fresh, and salt, there be▪ And, some that cure diseased folk in thee.

Thee, both in Towne and Field, the Lord hath blest; Thy People and thy Cattell are encreast. Blest wert thou in thy going forth to war; And blessed also thy returnings were. He blest thee in thy store, and in thy basket: Thine owne request he gave, when thou didst ask it: He evermore hath timely fauours done thee: Throughout the yeare his eye hath beene upon thee: He carefull was, what perills might betide thee; And heedfull all things needfull to provide thee: In Grasse, and Corne, and Fruits, thou dost excell: Thy Horse are strong, thine Oxen labour well: The udders of thy Kine grow large with milke: Thy Sheep yeeld fleeces, like the Persian silk: Thy Stones are Iron, and ••hy Hills are big With Minerals, which from their wombs we dig: Thy Soile is neither over moist, nor dry: The Sun n••r keeps too far nor comes too nigh: Thy Ayre doth few contag••ous vapours breed: Nor doth it, oft, in heat, or cold exceed. Still, for thy sins, thou hadst thy due corrections; And, foundst compassion in thy great afflictions. His Prophets and his Preachers God hath sent In ev'ry age, to move thee to repent; And, them thou smot'st, and murtherd'st, now & thē; Yet, gave he not to other Hu••bandmen His wronged Vineyard: but, doth yet a••tend, In expectation, when thou wilt amend. He, over all thy Foes, the conquest gave thee: He did from wrōg, by neighb'ring Nations, save thee: And, they to feare and honor thee were moved, Because they saw thee, of thy God, beloved. Thou hadst a Deborah bestow'd upon thee, Who freed thee from thy Foes, and glory won thee,

In spight of Sisera: For, God did please To make the Stars, the Clouds, the Winds, and Se••s, To fight thy batt••ls. When her turne w••s gone. He raised up another Solomon, With••n thy Borders to ••stablish peace, Who to thy glories added an increase. Thou wert as often warn'd, and punished; As much besought; as largely promised, As Iudah was. Thy Church that lately seemed Like barren Hannah (and was disesteemed Of proud Peninnah) in a spirituall breed, Doth most of Syons Daughters, now exceed: And thou hast viewed many of thy sonnes, To sit and governe, on earths glorious Thrones. The Iewish Commonw••alth was n••ver daigned More great Deliverances then thou hast gained. Nor was their helpe vouchsaf'd in better season; As Eighty eight, and our great Powder-••reason, Can witnesse well. For, then thy preservation Was wrought by God (to all mens admi••ation) Ev'n when Hels Iawes, on thee, were like to ••lose; And when, for humane aide to interpose, There scarce was meanes, or time. All which was done That thou Gods love mightst think the more upon. Moreover, that no meanes might passe un••ride, Which God did for the Iewes of old provide; To thee he also sends his onely Sonne: Not, as to them, a poore con••emned one, (That, seeing him, they might not him perceive, And hea••ing him, no knowledge of him have) Not as a weakling, or illi••e••a••e: Or meane, or in a persecuted ••late: Or one whose person, beauty, and ••••mpl••xion, In th••m, had nothing stirring up affection;

Nor as a man that worthy seem'd of scorne, Of mocks, of whips, and of a crowne of tho••ne: He came not so to thee for, thou hadst ••hen Despis'd and crucified him agen, As well as they: yea, thou perchance, hadst more Despighted him, then others heretofore. But, in a glorious wise to thee he came: With pow'r, with approb••tion, and with fame. His Fishermen (that heretofore did seeme To Iewes and Gentiles, of so meane esteeme) Had won whole Count••ies from Idol••try, And made them to confesse his sov'raignty▪ He comes to thee with honor, like a King: He did into (the Church) his Kingdome, bring A setled Government. He had assw••ged That Iewish and that Ethnick spight, which raged At his first comming. Emperours became His Viceroyes; and did governe in his Nam••. Thou sawst fulfilled, many things (of old) Both by his Pr••phets and Himselfe, foretold; Which did confirme him, that Messiah, whom Thou shouldst receive. His Doctrines well become His purity: and, witnessed is he By Martyrs and Confessors, him to be Whom thou should'st heare. And (this hath greater made Thy Favours, then that Grace the Iewes have had) Their threats, th••ir punishments, their ignorances, Thei•• pe••tinacy, and deliverances, Their fallings, risings, and relapses, are Recorded, that by them thou mightst beware. Thou knowst what Desolation they are in, In recompence of their despightfull s••n, The murther of their Brother: yea, like Cain, Thou seest, that, yet, they vagabonds remaine.

Thou hear'st, their fruitfull Land hath ever since, Beene cur•• with barrennesse, for their offence: That, w••thout King, Priest, Prophet, or good order, They through the wo••ld have wandred for their mur∣ther Nigh sixteene hundred yeares: and that al••ho They be abhorred, wheresoe're they goe, They have upon them, still, the marke of Caine, Which will prevent their being wh••lly staine; Lest (as the blessed Psalmist hath foretold) The People of the Lord▪ forget it should. Yet, nor their good Examples▪ nor their Fall, Nor all their Blessings, nor their Sorrow••s all, Have better'd thee: but, thou continu'st in Their obstinacies, and in all their s••n. Like them thou murmur'st, if God, but to try thee, Some blessing, for a little time deny thee, So, thou dost wanton it, as soone as e're, In any suffring, he thy voice doth hear••. So, thou Gods wholsome counsell dost despise, To follow thi••e owne foolish Policies. So, thou dost mixe thy selfe with other N••tions, And, learne to practise their abominations. So, on those broken Reeds thou dost rely, Which will deceive, in thy necessity. So, thou dost stop thine cares (to thine owne harme) Although the Charmer ne're so wisely charme. That which thy Prophets teach, and well advise; Iust so, thou dost neglect; just so, despise: Yea, though from time to time, thou seest the path Which ••hou dost follow, ill successes hath: Though thou hast found, that they who did fore••ell Thy course was foolish, did forewarne thee well: Though thou dost finde, no rest, nor peace, in that, Which thou art yet unwisely ayming at:

And, though thy truest Lovers, ev'ry day, Doe counsell thee, and for thy safety pray; Thou runn••st headlong, still, thy wilfull cou••se, And vaxest ev'ry moment, worse and worse. Thy eyes are blinded, and thou canst not see; Thy heart is hard, and will not softned be. To thy best Friends thou shewst thy selfe a Foe, As if, thou rip'ned wert, for overthrow: And, till God please to turne thy heart againe, All, that speake truth to thee, shall speake in vaine. Whence doe thy troubles, and thy losses come, But, from thy carnall policies, and from Thine owne vaine projects, which thou dost pursue, By courses, that will still thy cares renew? What gaine thy children, by their of•• alliance With Babels issue, or by their affiance, But mungrell off-springs; which will ready be, To stir up everlasting strifes in thee? Though thou hast heard, the Midianites doe give Their daughters to no end, but to deceive; And that the people who to Moloch pray, Wi••l for their Idoll, cast their sonnes away: Though thou hast heard what plagues ensu'd upon The wivings of the wise King Solomon; And knowest that by God, forbid it was, A Bullocke should be yoaked with an Asse: Though thou hast seene that their ••ffiniti••s Are ev'n, among themselves, poore slender ties; And such as they doe nought at all respect, Vnlesse they serve their p••ojects to ••ffect: Yet, in their course, thy Children doe proceed, And sow Gods Garden with a mixed s••ed: O•• which, unlesse they t••uly doe repent, And s••eke, by carefell tillage to prevent,

What may ensue thereon (as yet they may) Thy Land will suffer for't, another day. T••y Guiltinesse (oh! Britaine) makes thee feare, And often troubled where no terrors are. Thy faith hath fail'd thee, and thou didst not see Those armies, which have round encl••sed thee For thy protection. For, had they beene heeded, Thou no Aegyptian succours should'st have needed. If thou coul••'••t walke within a constant p••th, This Iland should not feare Iberi••'s wrath. It should be needlesse for thee, to pro••ure Alliances, that cannot long ••ndure. Thou shouldst not care (but, as t••ey Christian•• be) What Kings on earth, were friends, or foes to thee. No pow'r abroad, should make thy children tremble; Nor home-bred faction cause thee to dissemble: But, being safe in God, thou shouldst contemne The greatest dangers, and get praise by them▪ Oh! call to minde, the times now past away▪ Those, which our Fathers, yet, remember may; And let thine Elders tell thee (for they know) How strong in Gods protection thou didst grow. What ••antedst thou, when thou we••t all alone? When thou hadst nothing to rely upon, But Gods meere mercy? and such grace bestowne, That thou couldst use those pow'rs that were thine owne? When blest Eliza wore but half thy Crown, And, almost all the world, on her did frowne; When Romes proud Bishop; and, of Christendome The pow'••fulst Monarck, did her foes become. When ••he had no Alliance, to make strong Her party: but, wa•• hatefull growne, among The neighb'ring Princes; for her casting by The yoake of ••abylonish tyranny.

When she within her Kingdome had a swarme Of Hornets, which did howrly threaten harme Both to her State and person. VVhen their pow'•• And fury, w•••• more likely to devoure, Then at this present it appeares to be. VVhen her owne Court ••rom traytors was not free, VVhen she had Irish Rebels to co••rect; Opp••essed Netherlanders to protect; And France to umpire in: ev'n when all these, And other troubles did her State disease. VVhat glory, wealth, and safety ha•••• t••ou got, That she, amid those d••ngers, purchast no••? Religion in her dayes did still en••re••se; At home she had bo••h plentiousne••se and peace; Abroad, ••he was renow••'d: she did not paus•• In execut••ng o•• her whol••••ome Lawes, Through feare o•• any Malecontents at home; Or any threatnings from the Sea of Rome. She triple Geri••ns forces did con••emne; Her neighbours sought h••r ayd; she sought not thē. She aw'd the West: she from the Sp••nish Coast Did rend their golden-fl••eces; and she crost Their hopefull'st aimes. They could not unde••mine He•• Counsells; nor by any slye designe, Defea•• her Forces: Fr••nce was prudent then, And would not stir the w••ath of En••lish••e••: For, they p••eserv'd their honor, by pr••serving Their trust in God; and coastan p••••hs observin••. Then, to affront us, did no D••••chman dare, Nor, in ou•• Voyages presume to sh••re, But, with our favour. VVe had ••ame by land; O••r pow'rfull Navies did the Seas command. To ours, the strongest Fleets did strike their sailes; They, that now bark; then, d••r'd not w••g their tailes▪

Yea, ••hough our Lyons not so many were, Our strongest Fo••, to ••ouze them, sto••d in feare. No sonne of thine presumed, then, to be So trai••erous unto thy God, and thee, As to allow a popish Liberty: Much lesse to move, ••or that impiety, In publick hearing. No man sought to sell, For any summe, the peace of Israel: No no•• within ou•• Ir••sh ••onfin••s; tho It somewhat urgent seem'd to have it so: Because that peace••••ll pow'r thou hadst not got, Which now thou hast: nor, then, the neighb'ring Scot So firme unto thy State; nor so engaged To tame that Nation, if a war it waged. Thy Patriots perc••iv'd, that to begin With Ireland, would become the meanes to win Great Britaine to the Romish yoake anew; And, give the Spaniard courage, to pursue His great designe upon the British nations. They saw what civill broyles their Tolerations Have bred in France. For, if within her wombe, Rebecca could not but diseas'd ••ecome, (Whilst she, at once, two sons did nourish there, Which Fathers of unlike Religions w••re) They ••hought, that if one Kingdome should admit Two such Concepti••ns, to grow ••ipe in it, They ••ould, by daily struggling with each other, Afflict the body o•• their nat'ral•• Mother; And, cause an endlesse Warfare, untill one Were setled in possession, all alone. Thou didst not then, within t••y Bounds afford An Altar b••th to Baal▪ and to the Lord. What thou resolv'dst, was put in execution; Thy zeale was chill'd with no irresolution.

No haltings were appa••a••••. No disunion Did hazard (though it troubled) thy Communion: And, though thy many follies brought afflictions, (Which, of tho••e errors, were the due corrections) Yet, was thy faith in God, l••sse violated: Apparant evils not so p••lliated: Propha••enesse, not so patroniz'd, as now: Nor didst thou such impieties allow. But, th••u art changed from what once thou w••r••; Thy worse hath ouercom•• thy better part. Vpon thin•• owne distempe••s thou art ••ost: Thy confidence in God is almost l••st. And, thence it comes, that though thou dost ab••und In many blessings▪ thou art needy found. This makes Transgressions to encrease upon thee; They bring new troubles, and new dangers on thee; These make thee feare; thy terror causes thee Impatient of thy feared harmes to be: Impatience makes thee so unfit to stay Gods l••asure; that, thou ru••n'st another way, And seek'st for helpe in thine owne Fantasies, In fleshly Leagues, and humane Policies. Those courses overwhelme thee with new sins: From them, another b••ood of Pl••gues begins, Whi•••• doth not mollifie, but more obdure Thy ••linty brest: and will at last p••ocure Thy to••all overthrow; unlesse thou climbe The hill of hea••ty Penitence, in time. Growne fat with case, & wealth, thou hast forsook Thy God; and many crooked courses tooke. God, who did thee so love, and so esteeme; Who did create thee, and thy life redeeme; Thou hast fo••gotten: yea, r••jected him, And, sought those gods, thy Father did contemne

His Counsells, and his law, thou hast despised; Na••, unto Devi••ls, thou has•• sac••ificed; And, them and t••ine owne ••ust••, preferd before His honour, whom ••hou shou••dst have prized more. The corne, and oil•• & wine which thou enjoyedst As tokens of his love, thou mis••imployedst. The jewel•• he vouchsa••ed to adorne thee, (For his own pleasure) thou on those th••t scorn thee Bestowst agai••e▪ The beautie which he gave, That he the more delight in the•• might have▪ Thou ba••ely p••ostitutest unto those That a••e thy lust••ull woo••rs, and his foes▪ Thy Vines like ••••ose of Sodom are become, Ev'n like those plants, that are derived from Gommorrah's Vineyard; and their Clusters all Ar•• sowre; or else, more bitter, far, then gall. Thy Wi••e is Dragons poison: yea, thou hast In all thy pleasant things, a lothsome tast. But, thus in grosse, why should I l••nger sp••nd My time, thy wickedness•• to reprehend? Since thou art impudent, and hast the face, To make of the••e upbraidings my disgrace? In my next Canto's therefore, Ile prefer Of thy Transgr••ssions a PERTICVLER, So du••y urg'd; that none shall justly say I utter what I should not open lay: Or th•••• my Verse doth brand t••ee with a crime, Whereof their liues not witnesse all this time. Observe it; and if ought I mention here, N••t fitly ••poken t•• the publike ••are; O•• if, but in a word, I wrong thee shall; Me to the most impartiall c••nsure call▪ L••t my good purp••s••s be punisht more, And pittied▪ also lesse then heretofore.

L••t me of all thy chil••ren be reviled; Fro•• thy most pleasa••t Bord••rs live exiled: And n••ver be recall'd. But, if I tell What thy best Lovers shall app••ove of well. I•• Truth I utter; and such Truth as is To be discl••s'd: then ma••ke what's found amisse. Amend thine errors▪ Le•• thy folly cease. Love him, that loves unfainedly thy peace. At least, despight him not. But, if thou doe, Yet he will serve thee still, and love th••e too: Thy w••l••are rather then his owne prefer: And, leave this Bo••ke for thy REMEMBRANCER.

The sixth Canto.

The Poet (wei••hing w••ll his War••ant) Goes on with his enjoyned Arrant. I••partially he doth relate This Iland•• good and bad estate. What s••v'rall sinnes in her have place; How grosse they are; how they ••ncr••ase, He also t••ls: and, then he sn••w••s That nor the Gentiles, nor the Iewes, We••e ch••ck'd, or pl••gu••d for any Crimes, Which are not reigning in th••se times. N••xt ••hat, he boldly doth reprove ••he course in which ou•• Nobles ••ove; Derides their folly, blames th••ir sin, And warnes what dan••ers we are in. Ou•• G••ntry then he repr••hends; Their foolish humours dis••••n m••nds; And (having brought them to their sights)

Vpon the guilty Clergy lig••ts; On Lawyers that abuse the Lawes, On Officers, and on the Cause Of most Corruptions: Last of all On some enormities doth fall Which are in Court and City found; And runs this Canto, there, aground.

BVt, am I well a••vis'd? and doe I know From whence, & from what Spirit this doth flow? Doe I remember what, and who I am, That I this famous Monarchy should blame? Am I assur'd no ill-suggesting Spirit (In hatred of thine honou••able merit) Seduceth me (oh Britaine) that I might Become an instrument of his despight? Have I considered of what esteeme Thou art? How great thy Piety doth seeme? What glorious titles, and trans••endent stiles Thou ••ast obtain'd above all other Isles? What attributes unto thy selfe thou givest? What of thine owne perfections thou beleevest? And what thy fl••ttri••g Priests and Prophets say O•• thy admired happ••nesse this day? Yes, yes; all this I ponder'd, and I know What g••o•• or evill ••rom this act may flow. I am not ignorant, th••t thou hast beene Among the n••••ghb'ring Countries as a Queene, Among ••er Ladies▪ Fo••mes of Government, O•• Lawes, or Custom••s through Earths Continent, A••e no••e ••eceived that more pious be, Or mo••e upright then those t••at are in thee. Among fai••e Sions Daughter••, none doth sit M••••e frée f••om blemishes (the•• t••ou art yet)

In points of Ch••istian Doctrine (though there are Some, who that simplenesse begin to marre) No people doth retaine a Dis••ipline More Ap••sto••••c••ll, ••hen some of thine. No Church that's visible, hath kept more pure The grounds of Faith, nor countenanced fewer Of Romes innumerable Superstiti••••s; Of usel••sse, ••r of burdensome Tr••ditions, Then thou ha••t lately done. I feele thou hast Some warmth yet left. As yet, so brazen-fac'd Thou ••rt not growne, but that thou dost despise Notorious C••imes, and open Heresies; Because the hidden Leaven of t••y sin To sowre the Lumpe, is (yet) but new put in. I••le doe thee right, and give thee all thy due, Before thy follies further I pu••sue. I know that thou with patience heretofore (Ev'n like the Church at Ephesus) hast bo••e Thy Christian Labours; t••at, thou hast been moved Against offenders; that, thou such hast proved, Who fa••sely did ••ffirme themselves to be Apostles; and, strong ••aith was found in thee. Yea, ••hou didst long those heresies resist, Which God abhorreth; and ••idst th••m detest. I know▪ that like the Smyrnian Congregation Thou h••st through pove••ty and tribulation, Got heav'nl•• Riches: neither didst thou feare, When they, who of the Church of Satan were, Blasphem'd the T••uth, and did themselves professe True Isra'lites, when they were nothing lesse. I know, that when ••hy Lott it was to dwell Like Pergamus, ev'n where the throne of Hell Erected was (and in their bloody Raigne, By whom so many Martyrs here were slaine)

Thou didst not then the Faith of Christ deny, Not from professing of his Gospel flye. I know, that Thyatira-like thy love, And t••y devotion did unfained prove; And that thy piety, and righteousnesse, Did (for a season) more and more encrease. I know, thy goodnesse i•• not quite bereft, But that (like Sardis) thou some Names hast left That walke with Christ, from all pollution free, In those white Garments that unspotted be. I know, that like the Church of Philadelph, Thou hast a little strength within thy sel••e: Gods word, and holy Sacraments yet are (As pledges of his love) preserved here. An•• I doe know, that, sin••e thou heretofore Didst love the Truth; God will his Grace restore, On thy repentance; and in all temp••ation Become thy sole-sufficient preservation; Yea make all them, who now false boasters be Of true Religion, to subscribe to thee; Confesse he loves thee; and to thee hath given That Ci••ies title, th••t came downe from heaven. But, much is, yet, amiss••; and (to prev••nt Thy Ruine) I advise thee to r••pent. Remember (oh! remember th••u) from when••e Thou fallen ••rt; and seeke by penitence To ••se againe. Thy former works renew; Thy lately practis'd wi••kednesse esc••ew; What th••u hast lost, ••nde••vor to regaine, Hold ••ast that Faith which yet thou dost retai••e; Awake, and use thine utmost pow'rs, to cherish Those Graces, which in thee are like to perish. O••! doe it speedil••, whilst he doth knock Tha•• ope•• th•• doo••e, which no man can unlock,

And shuts, where none doth open: yea (lest he Come suddenly, and take away from thee Thy pretious Candlesticke) renew thy zeale; And unto him thy sinne, betimes, reveale. Marke, to the Churches, what the Sp••rit saith; And purchase thou of Christ (by lively faith) To make thee rich, gold t••yed in the fire. To hide thy filthy nakednesse, desire The pure white ••••yment of his Righteousnesse. Thy former sight, tha•• thou maist reposs••sse, His eye salve take: The conquest strive to get, That of the hidden Manna thou maist eate; And g••ine the Stone inscribed with a Name, Which none can know, but he that wea••es the same▪ For, I must tell thee, thou art run astray, And (like a whorish wife) hast cast away Thy old affection: thy fi••st-love is gone, An•• other friends thy heart hath doted on. Thou ••st not halse that zeale, which thou hast bore To thy Redeemers honor heretofore; That simplenesse, thou h••st not in thy workes; Put, base d••ss••m••ling in thine actions lurkes. Some Doctrines also are in thee profest, Without ••eproofe, which God doth much detest. Thou dost let goe unpunished in thee, Those persons that notorious sinners be, And impudently wicked: thou mak'st light Of their misdeeds, in vertuous mens despight. Thou hast conniv'd at those, who in the Land Have with an high, and an imperious hand (Like Iezabel) oppressed, and bereav'n Thou poore mans portion, in contempt of Heav'n. Thou hast blasphemers, who d••e falsely say, That they are Catholiques, (and none but they)

Yet, if they heeded what their words imply, Their owne Distinction giv••s themselves the Lye. The Babylonish Strumpet thou (as yet) Within ••••y territories dost permit▪ Who doth s••duce Gods people, and thy N••••ions; And make them drunken with her Fornications. Tho hast those Hypocrites that make a show Of zeal••••s hearts, when they are nothing so. T••ou hast those B••alamites▪ that in the way Of weake Prof••ss••rs, stumbling blocks doe lay: And pra••tise cunning slei••ht•• o•• policy, To bring thee b••••ke unto Idolatry. To trouble and di••tract thee▪ they invent St••ange qu••stions, dou••tfull, and impertinent. By needlesse provings, by their vaine confuting••, By over nice distinctions, and disp••ting••, And by their multitudes of windy notions, They have so in••orrupted thy devotions, So over whelm'd thy Fait••; so tired out Thy knowledge, (with still running round about) That there is left but lit••le care in thee, How much decayed thy good manners b••. Indeed, of thy lost Vertues, there's a Fame Remaining still; and thou hast yet a Name To be alive; but, some doe greatly feare That thou art either d••••d▪ or very neare. Though Laodicea like thou proudly vauntest, That rich thou art, and that thou nothing want••st: Though thou art h••ppy in thine owne esteeme, And dost to thine owne s••lfe quick-sighted seeme: Yet, were thy Iudgement cleared, thou wouldst finde That thou art wretched, naked, poore, and blinde. Thou dost almost that lukewarme temper hold, Which neither can be termed hot, nor cold.

Thy wi••kednesse is (well neere) growne as ripe, As hers, that served for thy Prototype. Nay, Gods great Volume mentions not a sin, Wherewith or place, o•• person, taxt hath bin, But thou hast practis'd it; and of thine owne Host added others, to those times unknowne. With our first Parents, there are some in thee▪ Who ••trive to eate of Gods forbidd••n tree; And have upon them such an itch to know Those t••ing•• which he v••uchsafeth not to show: That, from their eyes true wis••dome it hath hid, And m••re en••ang r'd them, then Ad••m did. Thou hast a brood of Cainites, that envi••s Their bre••hrens better pleasing sacrifice; And pe••secut••s, and slanders, (what it may) All those that walke not in their wi••ked way: And th••rst with greedinesse to shed t••eir blood, Who seeke their safeties, and effect their good. There be, am••ng thee, some just like that Race, Who (being made the So••nes of God, by G••ace) Did with mans female issue fall in love; And these beget a mungrell brood, that prove The Giants of their times; and, those, that will The measure of the worlds misdeeds fulfill. They (as those carelesse people did, on whom An universall Deluge once did come) Eate, drinke, and take their pleasure, without care, How many or how great their follies are. And, though a Iudgement on their head is pour'd, They will not heed it, till they are devour'd. As soone as any Pla••ue from us is gone, We build and plant, and in our sins run on: Or when (with Noah) blessings we have had, (In st••ad of being in Gods favour glad)

We doe in some vaine mi••th bewray our folly; I•• drunken feastings, or in games unholy. Since out of beastly Sodom they were got, Thy Children have among themselves (like Lot) Committed much uncleannesse; whence proceeds A Race, which discord in thy borders breeds. Like Laban, many wickedly detaine The workmans hire; and make unlawfull gaine From their owne Children. Some (with Isma••l) Are bitter mockers; some (with Esau) sell Their heav'nly Birth-rights: & for what d'yee think? For worse then porridge▪ ev'n for smoake and slinke. We hav•• a•• m••g••ty Hunters (now adayes) As Nimrod, and as wilfull in their wayes. Som••, of their brethren merchandizes make, Li••e Iacobs Sonnes, and money for them take. With Simeon, and with Levi; some, pretend Religio••s cause; when for some other end They doe proj••ct: and, m••••kes of holy zeale Doe often bloody cruelties conceale. For wives, for wealth▪ and for our vai••e d••lights, We change Religio••, like the Sichemites▪ We have those Iudges, who will (Iudah-like) Their brother, for his fault severely strike; Deride, taunt, censure, and without compassion, To death condemne him, for the same transgression Which they are far more guilty o•• then he: And, those the Plague-sores of this Iland be. We have in either sex, of those that are As wicked as the wife of Potiphar. Ev'n those, who so wil slander, and accuse; If any to obey their lust refuse. Like Er and On••n, we have wicked heires, Who rather would consume themselves, and theirs,

In fruitlesse▪ vanities, then part from ought By which their brothers welfare might be wrought▪ With Phar'oh, we Gods judgements do contemn▪ And grow the bolder, and the worse by them. When he most plagued us, we most presumed; And sinned most, when we were most consumed. Nor ••lood, nor frogs, nor loathsome lice, nor flyes, Nor murraines, biles, nor botches can suffice To make our Nations their bad lives reforme; Nor Locusts, nor the leafe-devouring worme; Nor horrid darknesse, liable to sense, Nor Haile, nor Thunders, nor the Pestilence; Nor bringing us to sp••ings that bitter are; Nor sweetning those things that unsav'ry were; Nor strange deliv'rances by sea and land; Nor Gods protecting us with his owne hand; Nor Q••ailes, nor Manna, (blessings which be rare) Nor favou••s which more ordinary are: No, nor Gods dreadfull Anger, nor his Love, Can our hard hearts unto repentance move; But, we (l••ke Aegyp••) in rebellion be, And, full as faithlesse as the Iewes, are we▪ Among us, we have wealthy men, who may W••ole Groves dispend; yet on the Sabbath day They'll gather sticks. Ev'n to the Devill, some With no lesse worthy sacrifices come, Then sons and daughters. For, what lesse do they Who them in wedlocke wickedly betray To open Hereticks? Or, they that make Their mar'ages, fo•• wealth, and hor••ors sake, Without affection? And (I pray) what lesse Doe they, who force their children to professe Vnlawfull trades? There be among us, living, Too many, that, ev'n whilst the Law is giving,

Do•• set up golden-calves. Such men are they, Who in the Church, or on Gods Holiday, Are plodding on the world; whil••t they should bend Their eares to God, and on his will attend. We have (our best proceedings to withstand) A Iannes, and ••amb••es in t••e Land, Who (by their ••orceries) continue shall Some people of this M••narchy in ••hrall: Vntill a Plague (like Ae••ypts ••owsinesse) Shall make them God Almightie, pow'r confesse. Young Vadab•• and A••••h••es, we have some, That with strange fires unto Go••s altars come: T••••ir dull devotions kindled are with sticks, And wither'd leaves of humane Rhetoricks; They offer up to God, their vaine Orations, Compos'd of Cli••bings, and Adnominations; Which he abhor••es; with all that frothy stuffe, Of which this age hat•• more then thrice enough. Our b••ethren by extortion we oppresse: True st••ange••, (nay, our kin) are harbou••lesse; And those o••fences we have Patrons for, Which many Heathen p••ople did abhor. With Miriam and with Laron, we have such, Who at their 〈…〉〈…〉 preferment grutch; Hot spirits, trouble••om•• to civill states; Like C••rah ••nd his rude confederates. These a••gue mach for p••p'lar p••rities, And raile upo•• all civill di••••iti••s; But▪ when they can attaine the••, none speake louder In their de••ence; nor are there any prouder. We Gallants have mo••e imp••dent, then e're, Yong Z••nri, and his Caz••i did appeare: And doubtl••sse we have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 who ••••ve hidden Some Babylonish things which are forbidden.

For all the Land much troubled we may see; And many thinke, it shall not quiet be, Till they be found. Reveale thou their transgressions, O Lord! and be thou prais'd in their confessions. We have, this day, amongst us, many a Bramble, That, like Abimelech, knowes how to scramble Abov•• their owne deservings: and (though base Vnworthy ••hrubs) durst arrogate a place More eminent, then dares the noblest Plant, Whereof the Mountaine Libanus doth vaunt. By others vert••es these ascend on high, And raise themselves to such authority, That our most noble Cedars are o're-topt; Our pleasant Figtrees, are b••scratcht and dropt▪ Our Vines are shadow'd, and unfruitfull made; Our Olives robbed of that oile they had; Yea, all our forrest and our garden trees, By their ambition, fruit, or honour, leese. Thou nourisht hast, and fondly doted on Those cunning Dalilahs, who having won Thy good respect, doe practise how to spye Wherein the chiefest of our strength doth lye; That (having by their flatt'ries lull'd asleepe Those watchmēs eyes that should our fortress keep) They may (unheeded) steal our pow'r away, And to our greatest Foes our lives betray. Here want not such as Michah, who with ease Can make a new Religion when they please; Coine ••ormes of worship proper to their Sect; A private Church among themselves erect; Make Priests at their owne pleasure; furnish them Ev'n with their owne new-fangled Teraphim; And preach abroad for good Divin••ty, The tumours of their windy fantasie:

Nay, some of them far stranger things can doe; For, they can make their gods, and eate them too. There be of us, as wilfull Favourites Of wicked men, as were the Benjami••es; And, rather then we will deliver ••hem To feele the stroke of Iustice, who contemne The wayes of goodnesse; we will h••zardize Our peace, our fame, and our posterities. We have those Prophets, who (with Balam) know Gods pleasure, and what way they ought to goe: And, yet, will for preferment doe their best, That they his plaine revealed Will may wrest. And though they are, perhaps, asham'd to say Their minds in publique, closely they'll betray The Lords inheritance; and Scripture proofe Inferre for all things to their owne behoofe. If of the pop'lar faction these become, And thinke some gaine may be atchieved from That side; Gods word they will produce for those That would disloyally their King oppose: If by the Prince advantage may be had, Then, God himselfe an instrum••nt is made To warrantize their claimes; an••, Tyranny, Sh••ll pr••ved be a lawfull M••narchy. As rash as Iephth••, in our vowes are we; As Ehu••s gift, such oft our presents be. In ent••rtainments, some like Iael are; And, in their complements may well compare W••th bloody Ioa••: for, they make their table Become a snare: and (when most serviceable They doe appeare) unheeded, they unsheath So••e fat••ll instru••ent, t••at wounds to death. Like old indulgent Eli, some connive At all the sins, in which the••r children live:

Nay, glory in their lewdnesse; and maintaine In them those follies, which they should restraine; Till their owne shame, and their undoing followes, And their wilde brood be tamed at the Gallowes. Nor were the sonnes of Eli, heretofore More wanton at the Tabernacle doore, Then some young Priests of ours; whom to correct, The Fathers of our Church so much neglect, That if they long connive as they have done, The glory of our Isr'el will be gone. Like those Philistians, whose advice it was To fixe God's Arke, and Dagon, in one place, We have too many; and, they cannot see, Why God and Baal in one, should not agree. But, when they raise their I••ol in these Lands, Lord, let it fall, and lose both head and hands. We are as cur••ous as the B••thsh••mites, And long as much to see forbidden sights: Like those of Ekron, we professe to know The truest Go••, and whence our troubles grow: Yet, are so stupid, that we sleight his Grace, And, send him from us, to another place. Yea, like the Gadarens, we for our Sw••ne, Would banish Christ, and sleight his love divine: Wi••h Saul, we doe neglect what should be done▪ And sacrifice, when God requireth none. Fat Sheepe and Oxen were prefer before O••edience to the Lord; and follow more Our wills then his. When God saith kill, we spare, And where he bi••s, be kinde, we cruell are. No love, no kindnesse, no sincerity, No tokens of unfained piety Can stay our furies, or divert our mind. When we are once maliciously enclin'd.

Goliah like, Gods army some contemne; With R••bsh••k••h, some others doe blaspheme; Some curse (w••th Shimei) Gods best beloved; As causelesly, to ••rieve them they are moved, And are of gaine as greedy. For, if they Have but an us••••sse Groome escap'd away, (O•• lost a beast) for such a petty prise, They will not stick their l••ves to haza••dize. VVe have those Michols, which will scoffe & flou•• At such as are mo•••• zealously devout. We have those dog-like Doegs in our Courts, That gladly heare and utte•• all reports, To disadvanta••e them, whose wayes a••e pure, And cannot their impieties endure. VVe have those Nabals, upon whom all cost, All curtefies, and kindnesses a••e lost. We have (like Vzzah) those that dare to touch Gods holy Arke. Nay, we have worse then such, Ev'n those that rob it; and themselves adorne With Iewels, from the San••tuary torne. With David, some have thought their sins to hide▪ And, their Adulteries, in Murther dy'd. Officiou•• knaves (like Ziba) we have some, VVho by their Masters falls, to gre••tnesse come; And (though they did men inno••ent betray) VVithout reproving, they doe passe away. VVe have those wicked A••mons, who defile Their sisters. And, to lay a cunning wile For helping their companions to a drab, VVe have more subtile Bauds then ••onadab. Those disobedient Absoloms there be Among us ••ere••t at wish and seeke to see Their Parents dea••hs; like him they can conceale Their ends, till they (by faire dissembling) steale

Mens hea••ts away; and then abuse them so, That all seemes just and honest which they doe. VVe have Achitophels, that are a•• wise Against Gods honor, projects to devise, As if the Delphian Oracle were sought: But, still in their owne pit-fals they are caught. For, he that honest purposes doth blesse, Conve••ts their wisedome into foolishnesse. VVe have with Solomon (though none so wise) Men wonne by women to Idolatries. VVith Ieroboam, we have those who strive A settled temp'rall fortune to contrive By ruining Religion; and to win An outward peace, by tolerating sin: Not heeding, that a greatnesse so procur'd, Hath seldome to a third descent endur'd. To serve an Idoll we like him proceed, Although Gods Messengers reprove the deed. And though our arme be wither'd, for our sin, Our obstinacies we continue in. VVe want not Re••oboams Counsellors, VVhose unexperienc'd Policy prefers H••rsh courses, rather then a calme proceeding; VVhen times are troublesome, & dangers breeding. VVe have (with Ahab) those who covet so Their neighbours Vineyard, that they f••llen grow, And can nor eate, nor sleepe, till they may plot, How their ungodly longings may be got: And we have Iezabels enough, to further Their claimes by slanders, perjury, and murther. Nor want such Elders, and such Nobles here, As those that Citizens with Naboth were. For should (as God forbid) our hopefull King, Desire to compasse any lawlesse thing,

Or seeke his loyall Subjects to bereave Of what their Ancestors to them did leave: We have of those (I doubt) that would effect it According to their pow'r: nay, project it, And urge him, and perswade him, that (of right) He overthrow their lawfull freedomes might. We have of those (I feare) that would command A Fast (like Iez••bels) throughout the Land, And underneath a maske of Piety, Proceed to practise any Villany, Which might advance their greatnesse: and, I doubt Some Priests would helpe to set the project out. Yea, we those Iud••es, and those Elders have, That if a man his neighbours Vineyard crave, He need not, for his purpose, name the King, Or Letters from the royall Signet bring To move the same: Nor were it necessary That (to corrupt them) he Epistles cary From some g••eat Lords. For, if he can but make The tongues of golden Angels for him speake; Or get some one, on his behalfe to write, That is but servant to a Favourite; The deed is done: and they will feele no sense Of others griefes▪ or o•• their owne offence. We have such Prophets a•• Zidkiah was, Who are no whit asham'd, in publique place, To speake fal••e messages; and those to smite, Tha•• in Gods name have spoken what is right. We have Gehezies; fellowes that will take Vnlawfull bribes▪ ev'n those who sale doe make Of what their Maste••s should have, gratis, done; And force out fees, where they can challenge none. Gehezies did I call this crew? I fea••e I wrong the Leper: for his brib'ri••s were

Put petty pillages, to those rich preyes, On which some one of these his fingers layes. He askt, and had a willing gratulation, From one both rich, and of another Nation: ••ut, these extor••, compel••, and stil•• serue Vnjust demandings, as a lawfull due. From friends, from strangers, from both poore & rich Their fingers to be scraping have an itch. For making their poore suitor, wait and pray, (When they might have dispatcht him) he must pay. For surly speeches, and for proud neglect, They must be humoured with all respect. When to their ••lient, they a w••ong have done, He must not seeme to know or think ••hereon; But, faine all noble thoughts of them to have, Or, in some other persons call them knave▪ And bribe them still, in hope they may be won, Yet, at the last, be cheated and undone. We have among us, men as very fooles As Na'man was; who thinke Damascus pooles A•• good as Iordan: and (like him) at home Some serve one God; and when to Court they come, Professe another. We have those that be As trustlesse of Gods promises, as he, Who in Samar••a••s gate was trodden on: These may behold the favours which are done To faithfull men; but, till they can beleeve, They shall not taste what blessings those receive. Here be like Haz'el, those who seeme to hate All tyrannizing, in their low estate; Yet, being once promoted, throw aside All pity; and all piety deride. Yea, that which forme••ly they did condemne, (As vilifying, and debasing them,

Below a Dogs condition) they allow, VVhen to their height of ••reatnesse once they grow. (If none yet live) we had in former time, Ev'n those that guilty were of Zimries c••ime. Most Officers like Iehu, doe begin Good reformation, at first entring in; Their violent Zeale doth seeme to say, Come see, How just in our proceedings we will be. But, oft they prove mee••e Hypocrites, who having Acquired meane•• to colour their deceiving, Surpasse the worst; and by degrees proceed, Till they appeare the men they were indeed. Like wicked Haman; some, unlesse they may Insult and trample on poore Mordecai, Are so distemper'd by their haughty minde, That they nor pleasure, nor contentment finde, In honours, riches, or in any blessing, Which they already have in t••eir possessing: But, will pursue, and ruine, if they can, VVhole Kingdomes, for their malice to one Man. As p••oud are we as Nebuch••dnezar: In feastings, as profuse as Bal••hazar, And as prop••ane as he. VVe sometime seeke The god of ••kron, Abaziah like. Like Amiziah (an informing Priest Of Bethel) we have those that will resist Gods Messengers; and would not heare them bring Into the Court or Chappell of the King▪ The sound of that reproo••e or punishment, VVhich to pronounce among us th••y we••e sent: And, these, perhaps, wh••n they my Arrand see, VVill prove as busie as that Priest with me. But, if they doe (as Amos sa••d to him) Although I be no Prophet, nor of them

That are the sonnes of Prophets; God doth know He called me to thi•• (which now I doe) From viler actions, then from gathering fruit, Or foll'wing herds: And I will make pursuit Of what he b••ds me; though o••pos'd I stand, By all the Priests and Prelates in the Land. And if they contradict, what well is done Their heads, at last, the sh••me shall light upon. Some ••ourtiers now, like Daniels foes, there are, That wi••l object as things piacular, The truest Piety; and s••eke to bring Ev'n those to be suspected of the Ki••g, Who strive most loyally, to keepe his Name In honor; and his Kingdome without blame. As Iudah had (in Zephaniahs times) Her Priests of Baal; the name of Chemarims; Those, who the heav'nly army did adore; Those also, who by God, and Mal••••om, swore; And multitudes among them, who did weare Fantastick Habits: So, we harbor here Some Shavelings yet; some Romish superstitions; To Saints we offer up some vaine petitions; Equivocating Oathes we often take; And, we our selves, in our apparell, make Deformed, by a skittish imitation Of ev'ry new-found guise, in ev'ry Nation. I doe not think (nor have I ever thought) That in it selfe it is materiall ought, What shaped Robes I weare: nor do I hold That any Fashion, whether new or old, Doth so much handsome or disfigure any, As it may seeme to do, perchance, to many. It is the Time, or else their mindes, that weare Such clothes, which make them good or bad appear.

Those fooles who bring new fashions first; and they That hast to follow them (and thinke it gay And generous) are those unworthy ones, That bring such folly, shame, and cost upon's. But, when those Garbes grow generall; then, we That first abhorred them, compelled be To take them up: lest our old clothes be thought New fashions from some forrain kingdomes brought: Or, lest we shoul••d by some be thought to erre, In being over nice, and singular. Most other people, both at home, and here, Doe in their habits, like themselves appeare: But, wheresoe're we come, we change our shapes, And, in our gestures, are all N••tions Apes. True gravity, we so are fallen from, And, so absurdly blockish are become; That, strangers jeere us, to behold how soone We get the garbe of ev'ry fond Baboon. Yea, they are proud, to see that we condemne Ou•• o••ne attires, by imitating them. And I doe blush to thinke, that our whole Nation Should of it selfe admit a transformation, So suddenly (as oftentimes we see) To imitate the guise of two or three. But, so it is: And at this present ti••e, Our female Gentry is so frenchifi'd; That we have scarce a Gentlewoman now, In clothes, more handsome bodied then a Cow. Those women who e're while were goodly creatures, Proportion having, and (me thought) sweet features; Doe looke as triple-bodi'd Gerion did, When they in their mis shapen gownes are hid: For, either arme, in such a mould is cast, As makes it full as fulsome as their waste.

Their necks stand sneaking out, before those rustes, Which lie behind their backs with wide mouth'd puss As doth a peeled Ewes, whose fleece unshorne, Was from about her neck with brambles torne. Their flaring cu••les about their shag-shorne browes, Doe, of the fairest Lady, make a blouse. Those demy-skarfes, they wreathe about their chaps, (Which may be comely to some•• eyes, perhaps) Doe make them seeme as Antick-like to me, As Hag••, that sent to fright yong children be. And I am sory, that a foolish pride Should make our Beauties their perfections hide In such a masking suit. And that a few Fantastick women, so great numbers drew To follow their new-fangles; and besot Their judgements, by that fashion newly got. For, not meane wits alone; but, of the wisest; (Nay, of the most religious, and precisest) There are great multitudes befool'd in this: And, She, that of that Guise their Patterne is, (Perhaps) derides their ficklenesse. For she Is from their minde, and from their folly free. Nought, but her count••y fashion, she hath worne: And, that which them deformes, do••h her adorne. Yea, they have either missed o•• her dresse: Or else she gives it much more lovelinesse, For to my eye there is some excellence Which puts t'wixt her and th••m much difference▪ And this opinion is not mine alone: For▪ so much hath beene said by many a one. Oh! shew the sweetnesse of your disposition, In hearing me, and granting my petition. Lay off your strange attires, that we may know If you be Englishwomen, yea or no.

Your monstrous habit, each true Britaine lothes; And, were your bodies formed like your clothes, (Which, God in Iustice, may effect, perchance) You might go seek your fortunes out in France, From whence your new prop••rt••on hither came: For, we shall never truly love the same. Because, if other men have thoughts like mine, It would appeare to be some fatall signe, To see our women leave th••ir native fashion, And, turne themselves into another Nation. But, let these Females goe I hope that she Who shall be mine (if any such the••e be) What ever accident or change be••alls, Will still retaine her English na••urals. More bl••me then this might in this kind be laid On women: but, unwillingly I said What here is uttred. And, if they had bin In those attires that I have seen them in, I had not on this over-sight reflected; But, left them to be counsell'd and directed By their neare Friends or Husbands. Yet, ala••! We have of them, whose levity doth pass The ••icklenesse of these: and, they alone Are oft the cause, that th••se have so misgone. Nor ever did this folly more appeare, Then now it doth; ••v'n in this very yeare, Where••n the Pestilence devoured so: And, as that Plague de••reased, this did grow. But, in Trans••ressions, how we parallell The times before, I will proceed to tell. High-priest have we, who send ou•• spies to watch T••e Preachers of Gods word; and pick, and catch Advantages against th••m. Some of us Are like the Silver-smiths at Ephesus,

And, for their private lucre will contend Against the Truth, and Heresies defend. We, Demas like, have those Apostataes, Who, for the world, forsake the Christian cause. And, some there be, that with Diotrophes, Affect preheminence in these our dayes. Some, like the Scribes and Pharises do rinse The Cup without; but, have no care to clense The loathsome inside. Some, have arrogated Such Holinesse, that they are separated From others, as a spotlesse Congregation, That is without all blame, or prophanation. Some, like to those, their Brethren d••s••espect: And, lo••dly titles over-much affect, As did the Iewish Rabbies. Some, as they On others backs uneasie burthens lay: Which they themselves, to cary do refuse. The Orphane, and the Widow, some abuse, By shewes of piety. And, we have some, In tything Anniseed, and Mint, become Exceeding zealous: yet, have neither care Nor conscience, in those things that waighty are. VVe have our sev'rall Brotherhoods of those, VVho seriously do Sea and Land enclose, (And practise, by a multitude of sleights) To win unto their Sects new p••oselites: Not out of love to Truth, or Charity, But ra••her to advance their Heresie. VVho ever all their crotchets doth embrace, Is instantly become the child of Grace, (In their opinions) whatsoever he In other points, or in his manners be. Bu•• whosoe're he be that shall despise, One branch of any toy, which they devise,

Is judg'd a Reprobate. Yea, though in all The grounds of Faith, and in his works he shall Appeare unblemished; they will contemne His judgement; and traduce and censure him. Yea, some of those there be who have des••ride A tricke to know who are unsanctifide; Though they have all the ma••kes of holin••sse. Nay, some a••e not ashamed to confesse, To know what persons those hid ma••ks do beare, W••ich knowne to no men but their wearers are. Like Ananias, and Saphira, here Are they that holy Brethren do•• appeare, Yet want sin••erity. And, I could tell y•• Of Multitudes, who meerly for their belly, Doe follow Christ. With Herod, we have such Who heare m••n gladly, till those Crimes they touch Which are their Darlings: But, then mad they grow, And what they truly are, they truly show. Like Dives, we have those that ev'ry day Are fed with dainties; cloth'd with rich aray, And, full as mercilesse unto the poore, That lye uncloth'd, and hungry at the doore. We have a rattle-brain'd and wilfull Crew, That with a purblinde zeale the Truth pursue: And would be found, were not their pow'•• so small, More bloody, and more violent th••n Paul, Before his name wa•• c••anged: for, they teare That Robe, whereof they doe profe••se a care. We have those Nobles, who with Felix, can Confesse the inn••cency of a m••n Accus'd before them; and, yet leave him bound, If ought to their advant••ge may r••dound. We have of those that parcell Christians be, As King ••grippa. Othersome have we

That walke for company, th••y care not whither; And, some that sleight Religion alt••gether. Nor want we those, that while th••y Christ professe, Convert his Graces into wantonness••. We are almost as wicked as old Rome: Of Heresi••s we are as full become, As Amsterdam. Nay, many men have we, That can of three or ••oure profession•• be, (Ev'n all at once) although that ev'ry Sect Each other doth directly contradict. We have an Elimas, who doth apply His cunning to pervert the Depu••y: Like Simon Magus, we have Merchants here, That were baptized; and yet without feare, Dare buy and sell those things that holy be; And which, by Gods donation, s••ould be f••ee. Nay, in the gall of bitternesse they lye, More deepe then he, fr••m whom their Symony Deriveth name: for, he, in shew, repenting, Did crave the Churches prayers for preventing Of his deserving: whereas, these devise Quaint arguments▪ their sin to patronize; Or make it lesse. Else, by equivocation, Or, by ••heir tricke of m••ntall reservation, They hide thei•• fault: and (that the s••n they doe May grow compl••at) themselves they perjure too. There be, that Mammon, for their God, adore: That make Christs members, members of a whore: And stained be with those offences all, Wher••of the Gentiles were accus'd, by Paul. We all are guilty of much fraud, debate, Imp••ety, uncleannesse, envy, hate, Backbiting, stealing, pride, maliciousnesse, Dissembling, murther, lying, spightfulnesse,

Truce breaking, disobedience, ignorance, Implacability, bold arrogance, Want of affections naturall, excesse, Inhumane cruelty, ungratefulnesse: Blaspheming, swearing; and innumerable Transgressions more, of ••hat ungodly rable: And, some (when God Almighty poured hath Vpon their heads the Viols of his wrath) In stead of penitence, encrease the score Of their offences; and, blaspheme the more. Nay, that we may be partners of thei•• guilt, That have the blood of Gods Anointed spilt, With Pilate and the Iewes, we have, againe, The Lord of Life, both crucifi'd, an•• slaine. Thou hast, Oh Britaine, ev'ry thing misdone, That Ashur, Moab, Ammon, Babylon, Or any Kingdome hath transgressed in, Which unto Piety a foe hath bin. Of whatsoever Isr'el was detected, For whatsoever Iudah was corrected, Thou maist be taxed; for, among thy Nation•• Are daily practis'd their abominations. Their tricks thou hast, to hinder and oppresse, Those men who tell thee of thy wickednesse. Right so thou dost debase; so slander them: Right so, their just reproofes thou dost contemne: And, though their words are daily verifide, Yet, thou dost alwayes wilfully deride Their admoni••ions; and, passe all things by, As falling on thee but by casualty. I doe beleeve, and know, that, yet, in thee Some Obadiahs, and some Ezraes be. Some Courtiers, and some Nobles yet remaine, Which doe their true Nobility retaine:

But, most of them their dignity have lost; And can of nought but painted Scuch••ons boast. As did of theirs, the Iewish Prophet say, Thy Princes doe procrassinate the day Or thy Calamity; and will not heare, O•• that affliction which approacheth neare: But, of Iniquity they climbe the seat; And, by extortion make their house•• great. Their Palaces, they seele and trim with gold, Gods Temples being ruinously old. On beds (more pretious then of Ivory) They stretch themselves, and live luxuriously. The pasture Lambes, and wainlings of the stall, Suffice not them; but they make prey of all. Which liveth in the wood, or in the field; Or which the land, the sea, or ayre doth yeeld. Their lushious wines in pretious bowles they quaff••▪ While Ioseph is afflicted, they doe laugh; And sing unto the Violl, wanton straines, While Syon in captivity remaines. They have but little care of Gods commands; They breake his yoake, and cast away his bands. Thy men in honour, without knowledge be, Like beasts that perish; and, dishonour th••e. Some have aspired to their present heights Of wealth and greatnesse, by ignoble sleights: Of others houses, they have got possession, And, furnished their chambe••s, by oppression. Their wives and children, waste in brave attire, The poore mans portion, and the workmans hire. Their credits they have pawned, to main••aine Their luxury, their pride, or gaming vaine. And, by their Honors ••ave so falsly sworne. That men their Idoll, and their oath do scorne.

Some, have so blushlesse and so shamelesse beene, To let their Coach, and foot-cloth horse, be seene At common Strumpets doores: their Favorites, (And they, in whom their Noblenesse delights) A••e gamesters, ••oarers, persons dissolute, And such; for unto them such best do sute. To bold fac'd Rimers, Iesters, or to those Who make their Lordships laugh with foolish prose; To Fence••s, Fidlers, Tumblers, and to such, W••o any way t••eir sensuall humors touch, Their hands are prodigall; and these obtaine Rich favours to requite their idle paine. Their tongues, to speak on their behalfe are free; When question'd for the foulest c••imes they be. (Ev'n fellonies and murthe••s) but a••e mutes In vertuous causes, and in honest suits. When wise and painful men, have spent their wealth, Their strength consumed, or impair'd their health, In profitable works; and to reveale Such ••hings as might advance the publike weale; Their labours (for the most) are over-past With••ut encouragement; sometimes, disgrac••d By arrogant impostors; who arise To greatn••ss••, by discrediting the wise; Or broaching such good projects for their owne, Which were by those mens industry made knowne, Whom they have ruined. For, what were some (That now to places eminent are come) Before they got aloft on others wines, But poore unworthy, and ignoble things? Nay, what (as yet) appeare they (unto those Whose good experience their true value knowes) But gild••d ignorance? who having got The shadowes of the substance they have not,

Doe passe for men of worth, in their esteeming, Whom they have cheated, by a cunning seeming. Admit but some of the••e into such place, VVhich may afford them priviledge or grace, To speak before their Prince; and you shall heare Their tongues to run, as if their knowledge were A•• great as Solomons; and that of all The pl••nts, ev'n from the Hysope of the wall, Vnto the Cedar, they could tell the nature; And knew the qualities of ev'••y creature. They, Pro••eus like, will any thing appeare; A Sea-man, Ship-wright, or an Engin••ere, Or what soe're they list: and having bought Of some poore Artists; or (some worse way) wrought Their project from them, that they may be showne, As if the quaint invention were their owne: (And, having gotten also termes of Art, To help them in the acting of their part) To such opinion of themselves they rise, That men of soundest knowledge they despise; Deride experience; and, ev'n to their face, The skill of most approved men disgrace. M••ke these men Counsellors, and though till then They knew not halfe so much as common men, Nor had the meanes of knowing any thing, But how to ride a horse, or take the Ring, Or hunt, or hawk, or caper: yet (behold A wonder) in a moment they grow old In State affaires; and nothing doth concerne Or peace o•• war, which they have need to learne. If any question be, before these, made, Of Merchandise; the skilfull'st in the trade Are fooles to them; and tis an arrogance To offer to instruct their ignorance.

If armes be treated of, there's no man knowes By practice, that which th••se men can disclose By contemplation. And though they have seene No other warres but those at Mile end greene, Or Tutle-fields; great Mars himselfe, of these May learne to be a Souldier, if he please. If any thing concerning Navigation, Be tendred to a grave consideration, These either dare affirme, or to deny What all the Masters of the Trinity Oppos•• them in; and Nov••ces would make Of H••wkings, Frob••sh••r, and f••mous Dr••ke, Were they now living. And, y••t such a•• they, The wreathes of Honor soonest beare away. With empty Names, and Titles, b••ing ••lowne Above themselves, they are unweildy growne; An•• g••••ater in their pride, and in their traine, Then their consume•• fortunes will maintaine. Which doth compell them, by unworthy wayes, To seeke the patching up of their decayes: And, still in their p••ofusenesse they proceed, As if thei•• pro••••gality should breed New fortunes; and, were like those wells that fill, And grow the purer, by exhausting still. In feasts, apparell, furniture, and things Of such like nature, m••ny Christian Kings, To equall them shall finde it much to doe: But, them they cannot very far outgoe, Vnlesse they meane to draine their fountaines dry, With Fooles, in prodigality, to vye. Hence comes it, that the Rents and Royalties Of Kings and Princes, which did well suffice In former times, to keep in comely port An honour'd, and an hospitable Cou••t,

(Yea, and an Army if occasion were) Can hardly now the charge of houshold beare▪ For, they must either in their large expe••ce, Come short of that p••ofuse magnificence Among thei•• Vassals: o•• else waste away The price of many Lordsh••ps, to defray The cost of one vaine supper; and, from this, With other such like things, growes all am••sse. For, one exc••sse another still produces; One Foole out-vies his fellow Fooles abuses; Vnt••ll their wealth, and hop••s, and reputation, Be wasted in a witn••sse emulation: Not heeding what is taught them in the Fable, That when a Toad hath sweld while he i•• ••ble, An Oxe is bigger, and with ease can smite His pride to nothing when it is at heig••t. This over la••ge profusenesse, they are faine By many evill cou••ses to maintaine: By bribery, by g••iping, by the sale Of Iustice yea of Consci••nce, and of all That may be sold for mony. From hence springs Deceiving, and mis-leading of good Kings. This makes their Treasuries to ebbe so low; This, makes their Subjects discontented grow; This, makes the Me••chant, and the Tradesman, break; This, makes the arme of Iustice grow so weake; By this, are States unjointed, by degrees; By this, their honour and their love they leese; And, that confusion in upon them steales, Which ruines Nations, Kings, and Commonweales. From hence are all those rascall Suits derived, By which the common dammage is contrived: Hence, they (who by the publike desolation Would raise themselves) pretend the••reformation

They purpose not: and, by their faire pr••tences To ••ure old griev••n••es, breed new off••nces. Hence comes it, that to keep ••hemselves on hie, They sell their country, and p••sterity To slave••y and bondage; ca••ing nought▪ So they have rest, how dearly it be bought. This, makes the Gr••nts of Kings ••ecome so tickle, An•• O••ders, and De••rees of State, s•• si••kle, T••at no man knowes when he hath ought procured, How he, of w••at he hath may be assu••ed; For, in a righteous cause, though be proceed, A••d hav•• it ••atified and decreed, By all Authority that may be gained; A sleight suggesti••n (without reason f••ined) May ••••u••tr••t•• make the Royall-confirmation, O•• k••••p him in an endl••sse exp••ctation, Till he be quite undone. And, if his foes Have weal••h▪ (though no good reasons to oppose His rig••tfull cause) he may be whe••l'd ••bout, With O••ders, tha•• will ••••tch him in and out, Till he be tyr'd: and, neith••r side is sure O•• conq••est, till the other can p••ocure No brib•• to give. VVhich is m••re wicked far, Then thos•• injustices which practis'd are In heathen Kingdomes: since, when any t••ere, For Iustice or Injusti••e b••ibed are; A man ••h••ll hav•• his bargaine. And in this More just they be then many a Christian is. For, when some here a••e forced for their owne To give great fines, they afterward a••e throwne From their possessions if another come To buy Injustice with a larger sum. O••! what a madnesse is it, for one day On earth, to foole Eternity away?

To sell both soule and body for meere toyes; And r••all comfort••, for deceiving joyes? To build the••r house with morter, which will bu••ne The timber, and the structure overturne? Perchance before the finishing be done, But (doubtlesse) e're the third descent be gone? What folly is it for a man to waste At one vaine triumph (which an houre doth last) Mo••e then the portion, ten and ten times told Which all his predecessors leave him could; That, to his prejudice it may be knowne, How hastily a ri••h man he is growne? What meaneth he, who doth consume upon One banquet, wh••t a towne of Garison Might live a yeare withall; to heare it spoken, That so much cost was but a certaine token Of his corruption? And that all the store He wasts, was got by making ot••ers poore? Or that t••e greatnesse of his new gain'd glory, Is of the common wrong•• a reall story? Who prai••eth him for this? or who doth call Him honorable, wise, o•• l••berall. For those expences; but ••he rascall rable Of Coxcombs, and of G••lls, that haunt his table? What honour is it? or what can it please, To be the Lord of many Palaces? To have their Cambers, and their Galleries Adorned with most precious ••arities? To feed, and cloath, and patronize a number Of Parasites, and of Buffoones, to cum••er Their w••lks and lodgings? To have ev'ry day Th••ir servants following them in rich aray? Rich stuffes, with rich embroyderies to bury, To ride on princely charets? or to hurry

In gilt Caroches? or o•• pampered Steeds, (From Turky fetcht, or from the Barbary breeds) To p••aance about the streets to show their pride? Or with vaine titles to be magnifi'd? What pleasure is all this, when they sh••ll heare, How loud the clamou•• sounds in ev'ry eare, Of their oppressions, ••rau••s, and cruelties? And how the people curse their tyrannies? Their state, and their ambition to maintaine; How many, oh! how many to complaine Conftrained are? Alas! how m••ny a one Have their proud followers tyranniz'd upon? And of their servants, what great numbers too, Doe these by thir ambitiousnesse undoe? The faces of the poorer sort they grinde; The bread of Orphanes (who the while are pin••e) They feed upon. The people they have sold For old-worne shooes •• on Altars they lay hold; And, of each holy thing they m••ke their prey, Whereon their sac••ilegiou•• hands they lay. The portion of their brethren they devoure; A••d, by us••rping an unl••wfull pow'r, They save each other harmlesse from the lawes; And overthrow the poore complainants cause. Their neighbours, often, and t••eir nearest friends, (To who•• they daigne respect but for their ends) Are so engaged to uphold their pride, That they their foolish heads are faine to hide. Som•• Tradesme••, for their vaine credulity, (In trusting to their H••nors) now doe lye Imprison'd for their aptn••sse to beleeve: And, what they suffer, or how m••ch they grieve, Their Lordships care not: For (except their owne) Of all mens troubles they are sens••lesse growne.

Their houses, and their lodgings, ev'ry day▪ Are full of Suitors, who as humbly pray Fo•• what's their owne, as if that they were some Who to entreat for charity were come: And oft are answer'd with such harsh replyes, For their compelled impo••tunities, As if it were an impudence or wrong, To aske the debt which had beene ••ue so long. The Baker and the Butcher, sometime serve Great men with bread and flesh untill they sta••ve Themselves almost: and, if they doubt they shall Be quite undone before it so befall▪ They oft a••e glad to lose the summe that's due, Through feare that for their own if they should sue, (In stead of recompence) receive they might Some evill turne, their boldnesse to requite. For, some are growne so base, that now and than Their Costermonger▪ yea their Butterman, And Herbw••fe is halfe begger'd and undone, By suffring them upon their scores to run. Oh! with what faces can these Tyrants ride Along the streets, in such a h••ight of pride, As oft they doe, when they are lookt upon By those poore Tradesmen whom they have undone? What j••y have they to see, or to be s••ene In those gay feathers, which have plucked beene From others wings; whose nakedn••sse appeares To cry aloud for Iustice, in Gods eares? And what a Plague is fallen on that L••nd Where such as these have places of command? Where t••ese are chose for Statesmen, what protecti•• Is Vertue like to finde? what due correction Hath Vice where such controule? or what is he Can looke for Iustice, where such Iudges be?

Would I could say, oh! Britaine, thou hast none Of these Or else might name thee such a one, As lawfully, as I might boldly do it, For thy advantage, were I called to it. But, that authority which I have got, Checks faults alone, with persons meddles not. Thy ancient Vertues are not wholy lost, In all thy families. Yet, ••or the most, As are thy Princes, now, thy Gentry be▪ According to the height of their degree. They spend their youth in lust and idlenesse; In impudent p••ophanenesse, and excesse; In foolish complements; in thriftl••sse games; And in oblivion do interre their Names: Through want of knowledge, and that reall worth Which sets the lustre of true Gentry forth. The ma••kes of Gentle-blood, and that which praise Did thereunto acquire, in fo••mer dayes, Were Iustice, Temp'rance, Courage, Prude••cy, True Courtsie, Meeknesse, Liberality, And such as these. Their Ex••rcises were Those which the mind or body might prepare For ve••tuous practices: as leaping, runn••ng, To handle Armes, to shoot, to shew their cunning In m••naging great Horse; in studiousnesse Of piety, and of the Sciences. Which we terme liberall. But now, alas! Th•• Gentry, Britaine, is not as it was. To be a Gentlem••n, is now, to we••re Fant••stick habits, horrid oaths to swe••re; To w••ifte Tobacco; to be drunk, and game; To do a villany, and boast the s••me. To dare the Pox; to talk with impudence▪ How oft they had it, without griefe or sense,

Of their misdoings; no••hin•• to pro••esse Or p••acti••e, but to live 〈◊〉〈◊〉; To quarre••l; to be in••ole••t, and proud; To che••t, and brag, and lye, and speak aloud In stea•• of ••p••aking reason: to p••esume Abov•• his wo••th; unwise••y to ••o••sume Hi•• p••t••imony; fast and loose to play; To borrow▪ ••ithout purposing to pay; To spend their time in ••••uitless•• visi••ations, In beastly and p••ophane communications; In telling and in liftning a••ter newes; In viewing idle sights, or haunting Stewes; With such like exe••cises: as if they Were made to flutter all their time away Like Butterflyes, and lived, pu••posely, For nothing, but to eate, and drink, and dye. Their noblest mark, is di••ting a brace Ofhandsome Nags, to run a ••quitting Race. Or keep••ng of a cast of Norway Kites, To show them yearly halfe a dozen flights; Or else, the feeding of a stinking pack Of yelping Hounds; that when discourse they lack, They m••y whole d••yes together, pra••e a story, In which so••e Dogs, or Hauks, or Horses g••ory ••s m••gnifi'd; and him they c••unt a Clowne, That in their folly is no partner growne. Oh! wou••d these lines had po'wr to make thē see, How fooli••h and absurd their cou••ses be: And that my Muses now could reach the straine, Might win them nobler t••oughts to ente••ta••ne. But, mine will h••rdly prove such Charmes, I feare; For, at t••e very root we rotten are; And, where our Maladies their cure should have, T••e dangerou•• infections we receive.

Our Nurseries of Arts are not so pure, But th••t in them our bane we may pr••cu••e. Our Inne of Court have lost their good repute, By ha••boring of persons ••issolute. The ••chooles of Law are Sanctuaries made For Out-lawes, and where once our Gentry had That nurture which enobled them; now, ther•• By lewd examples, which too frequent are, O••, by too great a liberty, we gaine A habit in ••ll courses tha•• are vaine. A••d most of those, of whom the world beleeves Most good (among them) are but civill theeves. For, Lawyers, and some Officers, in thee, (Which Ministers of Iustice seem•• to be) Have made t••e Courts and Offices, whereby We should of wrongs receive a remedy; To prove to us things more uneasie, far, Then those, for which their just complainings are. So costly b•• their wilde interpretations Of Lawes and Customes; and such variation•• Are found in their opinions, that few know When they up••ightly, or in safety goe. If any Common Ba••reter will please By suits u••just his neighbors to disease; The Plea may be mai••tained, though that all His allegations prove untrue they shall: Or manifest, ••y d••u••tlesse demonstration, He pu••pos••d nou••ht but wilfull molesfation. For, Lawy••rs will defend and plead the Cause, Which to their knowledge doth oppose both Iawes And Conscience too; as if they did contemne His threatnings that pronounced woe to them, Who justifie the w••cked in their fin; Or him gainsay which hath not faulty bin.

Ev'n in our Court of Co••science, some things are Vnconscionable. For, if any here Be causlesly compl••••n'd on well is he If uncondemn••d in the ••uit he be. For, this Defen••ant h••th small r••medy, Save that, an•• patie••ce, for his injury. His causl••sse trou••l••s, and his large expence, Hath no req••it••ll save his innocence. For, if all they that are u••ju••tly grieved, By h••••ing co••ts o•• suits ••••ould be re••••ved; Or if the Plaintiffe should his B••ll ave••re Vpon his oath, as ev'ry Answerer Confirmes his An••wer, m••ny •• brawling K••ive W••uld then be quiet, and that Court would have Far lesse employment: yea, and we••e it not Their Trave••ses did knit againe the knot, W••ich Answers upon O••th, almost unty, Suits would not h••lfe so long unended lye. This, many Offi••ers doe seeme to feare; And th••refore (as if Courts erected were To m••ke them rich, by n••urishing contention; Much rat••er then to co••passe the prevention Of wrongs and discord) they continue still, T••at cou••se w••ich brings most grists unto their mil. If I would m••ke a Libell, it should be By way of Suit: f••r, I did never see A scurrilous Rime or Pamphlet, so compact O•• sl••n••ers (nor so cunningly derract) As doe their than-lesse Bils, and their Replies, Who seeke, th••t way, mens names to scandalize. They dare p••etend (as if with warranty) Those things of which no probability Was ever seene. For, thou••h they prove it no••, They kno•• the very mention of a blot

Doth leave a sta••n••; ••nd, that aspersions laid Sup••osedly, are often so ••••nvaid, And so disperst; a••d in disperting, will Such new additions g••the•• to th••m s••••ll; That, at th•• last (althoug•• most fal••e they were) For t••uths, they told and heard, of ma••y, are. But, their I••tergatorie▪ have a tricke Beyond all other L••b••dings, to stick An infamy on any: for, in those, O•• ••ll which they will causl••sly suppose W••thin their Bils; they may the qu••st••on move, To whoms••ever t••ey preten•• •• sh••ll prove Wh••t they object And, t••ough no p••oofe be broght, N••y, thoug•• it never came within his thought, That is complai••'d a••ainst▪ to doe or say Those things which they object against him may: Yet, he th••t is examined, or he That ••eads what matters question'd of him be; Suspects, perhaps, (although he nothing knew Con••erning them) that ev'ry thing is true W••ich their Intergat••ries doe imply. For, why thinks ••e (that meaneth honestly) Should Propositions of these things be made, If they no likelihood of being ••ad? Or w••o (suppose••h he) hath so abhord A mind, as to suggest, and on ••e••ord To leave aspersions (o•• deserving blame) O•• him, that no way merited the same? Yet, this is frequent: and this li••elling Much profit to th••ir Common wealth doth bring, Who gaine by others losses. And, there's none O•• whom this mischiefe m••y not ••all upon. For ••ne example ••f suc•• g••osse abuse, My selfe I can, and justly may, p••oduce.

For, sitting lately in a roome alone, My owne occa••••ons meditating on: Two men, who talking at the doore had bin, (And, as appeared, knowing me within) Ma••e entrance and besought me both to heare, (And witnesse) what they had agreed on th••re. I heard them; and, I purposed to do As they requi••ed, being call'd thereto. But, mark what ••ollow'd. Twelve months after that Th•• one of these (not well content with what His b••rgaine wa••; and knowing, I alone Cou'd re••tifi•• wh••t they a••reed upon) Did i•• this k••vish c••nn••ng wise project To make my wi••nesse take the lesse effect. Forsooth, ••e m••k••s me pa••ty in the cause; A pitifull complaining Bill he drawes; Wherein his le••rned Counsell did devise Such Combinations, and Conspiraci••s, Such Plots, such Pra••tices▪ and such large tal••s, Of Premises, of Bargai••i••gs▪ of Sales, And such like Heathrish ••••uffe: and his pretence, Was wo••ded out with so much impudence; T••at, surely, whosoever came to see That peece o•• Ch••uncery, supposed me A very cheating Rascall: or, tha•• I (At least) was privy to some knavery; Whereas he knew, who then did so abuse me, I blamelesse was of w••at he did accuse me. Yea, then so farre was I from any plot, Or purpos'd wrong; that I had quite forgot Both man and ma••ter: and, but for his Bill, Had beene (I thinke) unmin••full of them sti••l. A wrong like this, if any please, he may Inflict upon me ev'ry other day,

With safe impunity. For, such as he, Intituled Am••••i Curiae be: And, many thousand fees would quite be lost, Were they▪ in such like suits, to beare the cost. If I should here disclose what I have seene, The p••actice of some Lawyers to have beene; What cunning in convey••nces they use, How strangely their Profession they abuse▪ And what a glory to them••elves they take, Wh••n they an evill cause to thrive can make: Or, should I he••e character their Delayes, Their Errors, their Demurs, their many w••yes Of hindring Iustice; their impertinent And costly ted••ous Formes; their impudent Extorting from their Clients doubl•• fees; For Motions, which they willingly d••e leese: How they doe move by halfes; how they mistake (Of purpose) for themselves, new wo••k to make; How oft their Orders have by procrea••ion, Made up, almost, the hundreth generation; What double-tongu'd ••eports, for double fees, Are gotten by cor••upted Referrees; (Who when the truth is plaine, can coine a doubt To bring againe the fals••st Cause about) How sense lesse of mens losses, griefes, or paine, They are in all things which concerne their game; To what expences they their Clients bring; How they doe ride them in an endlesse Ring, And prey upon them: or, if here I should Disclose as evidently as I ••ould, How full of wicked bribes, their closets be; What brutish cruelti•••• mine eyes did see; How many honest Causes I have knowne, For want of prosecution, overthrowne;

Because our tedious f••rmes of triall, stretch Much further then the Clients purse can reach. How many miles poore men are forc'd to come, For trifling suits, w••ich might have end at home; But that our higher Co••rts more seek encrease Of t••eir base profits, then of blessed ••eace. Sh••uld I relate, wi••h what strange tyrannies Some Officers their places exercise; What par••iality they shew; what pride▪ How they insul•• on men; how they d••ride; How big they speak; how scur••ilous ••hey be, In taunting and reviling men more free From vice, then they themselves: Or▪ should I tell How little tendernesse doth seeme to dwell VVithin their bosomes, when they do oppresse The needy w••dow, and the fatherl••ss••: If all these things I should insist upon, And so describe them, as they might be done; The wo••ld would know that all those injuries, For which the Law appointeth remedies, Are oft lesse grievous to the Common weale, Then most, w••o most pretend her sores to heale: And that as little help from them she sees, As when she sets her Cats to keep her Cheese. For, some of them are trusty in their kind, And so, some trusty Lawy••rs she may find: Yea, those ••here be, that in these evill dayes, Like Rubies mixt with peble••, send forth rayes Of Christian p••eties; which do declare, That some remaine who yet an honor are To that prof••ssion; and all those are free From being t••xt, or blamed here by me. The rest shall beare their shame; for, they were bor•• To be our plague; and they shall be my scorne:

Their torments ••o afflict both night and day, An•• there are few such tortu••ers as they. Fo••, of those wrongs which we by them sust••ine, We scarcel•• a••e pe••mitted to complaine. Nor will this ••land better dayes be••old, So long as Offices are boug••t and sold. Nor shall I ever think that a••y one, Much cares, what right or injury be done, That buyes or sels an Office; chiefly he, Who chaffe••s that where seats of Iudgement be. Fo•• order s••ke, to ••hese my knee I bend; Or, I to give them titles can descend, And ev'••y outward reverence; that so The pla••e they beare, con••emne•• may not grow: Yet, nobler far he seemeth in mine eyes, Who, by a due election, doth arise To be but Heardma•• in some Country Borrough, Then all those Lordlings who have passed thorough The greatest Office••, by giving pay; Or by some other unapproved way. When mē were sou••ht, that Office they might beat And had it gratis▪ they such persons were, Whose wo••t••, whose vertue••, and whose noblenesse, Bro••gh•• ho••or to t••e seats they did po••sesse. With faithfulnesse, their du••ies they discharged, No ancient fee unjustly was enlarged; Or n••w extorted; neither did they take The poore mans money, when he mone did mak••: For, by an easie entrance they were able (When need required) to be charitable. Their just expences, also, to provide; And to sust••ine a comely port b••side. But, since men sought out Offices; and thought Of their owne merits, better then they ough••,

(Int••uding, without modesty, to sit Vpon that Seat, ••or which they were u••fit) Since men expe••ienced (by serving long In some inferior places) ha•• such wrong, Tha•• ignorant Impostors got possession O•• what pertaines to them, by due su••cession: Yea-since to sac••ed Calling•• men are chose By th••m, that should not of such ••hin••s dispose; What can e're long expected be, u••lesse It be an overflow of Barbarous••esse? Since each base fellow (who, perhaps, by steal••h, By fraud, or by extortion, scrape••-up wealth) May pu••cha••e, by his evill gotten pel••e, A place o•• honor, to ens••once hims••lfe, And fortifie his wickednesse withall; What hope of good proceedings follow shall? Since needy, worthlesse, base, & shamel••s grooms, May se••ue their persons into noble roomes, By meanes ignoble; no man must exp••ct From such a Cause, to draw a good Effect; Or, that he honor gets, who in such times To any honorable title climbs. He'•• but a theefe, that in at window comes; The buyer sells, and sells ••or greater sums; By bribery, he bribery defend••, Of unjust Mammon he do••h make him friends, To nourish Pride; or else to make up that, W••ereby possession of his pl••ce he gat; Without compassion, he doth grieve, oppresse, And rack the widow, and the fatherlesse: All places▪ and all things t••at appertaine To ev'ry place, he put•• to sale, for gaine: Yea, most men of each other, now, m••ke sale: Of th••ir owne liberties, of lives, and all.

Great Offi••ers pretending to the gift 〈◊〉〈◊〉 some inferiour places, make a shift ••o save the giving, and, so dearly sell That their poore underlings they oft compell To serve without allowance; or to raise Their maint••nance, by some unlawfull wayes: VVhich they must co••ntenance; or else contrive That others at such doing•• may connive. VVhereby those places held disg••acefull be, VVhich, otherwi••e, from scandall, had bin free. VVhy then reproach we such with odious names, Since they that are the author•• of then shames, (And those to whom base te••me•• do appertaine) Are their great Mast••rs, who make wicked gaine Of what should ••reely be bestow'd on those To whom they ought such places to di••pose? From them, and their corruption, doth arise The multitudes of base enormities That swarme among our petty Officers. It is a sum ••f mony that prefe••s To ev'ry place; and that makes knaves, and sharks, Of Sergeants, Waiters, and of Vnder-clarks. This maketh Registers, in ev'ry Court, And other Ministers, so much extort: This makes them seek out knots, demurs, delayes, And practise many unapproved wayes, To make up that which ••oolishly they paid: Yet, in the grave, thei•• heads, perhaps, are laid Ere halfe recover'd be: and oft their wives, (VVhose portion bought those places for their lives) Are le••t, with many ch••ldren, to a lot Vnpitied, as they others pitied not. For, many a one of these, although you see Their wives and children in apparell be

As costly as a Lords (that yea••ly may Dispend as g••eat a sum, as these did pay For their new Offices) engaged are To Vsurers, for twice the better share Of ••heir large Fines: and, sometime they undoe Themselues, their kindred, and their neighbours too. Hence comes it, that Receivers, Bailifes, Reeves, And other such, are worse then common theeves; And ••ack and pill so boldly; and from hence It flowes, that few suppress their insolence: Ev'n from their base corruption, who do thrive By such mens losse; and not alone connive At their misdoings, but, oft patronize them, And from just censures an escape devise them. For they that else would Furze and Brambles burn••, Will cherish them, where they may save their co••ne. Thus, Britaine, most of them have used thee, Whose Offices, by purchase, gotten be. These, and a multitude of other crimes, They cause, and act, and suffer in these times: And are so insolent in what they doe, That they dare practise, and defend it too, Without remorse of mind, or seeming sense Of being guilty of the least offence. Nor come thy Priests or Prophets much behind The worst of these: but, passe them in their kind. For, though a learned Clergy thou possessest, And ev'ry day in knowledge much increasest: Although I do beleeve thou hast in thee Those Guides whose wayes are from reproofe as free As are the best on earth: yet, thou hast more That are perverted, now, then heretofore. Of late, thou heaps of Teach••rs gotten hast, Resembling empty vapours, or a blast

That breathes no comfort. What God never ment They publish fo••th; and come e're they are sent. Thy peoples hurts, t••ey cure with sugred speech; W••••n there's no peace at all, of peace they preach; Thou pu••bl••nd Watchmen hast, and some that see, As blindly walke, as they that blindest be. Dumb Dog•• thou hast, who spend their time in sleep; And, some who barke, but to affright the sheepe. Like hungry Curres, some alwayes gurmandize; Yet nothing can their greedin••sse s••ffice. They follow their owne wills, and their owne waies They hunt for their owne profit, their owne praise. They tread the p••ths where common sinne••s wal••e; Amongst themselves, they most prophanely talk; And, at the Tavernes meet, and sit and ••will Strong drinke, and wine▪ untill their guts they fill. In taking Gifts, and compassing Promotion, They shew more zeale, and practice more Devotion Then in their holy Callings. They delight In Flatterie••; and the fawningst Parasite In all t••e Cou••ts of Europe, cannot prate More Heathnishly, nor more ••nsinuate Then some of th••m. The blessed Sacraments And holy Word, are us'd as inst••uments To compasse th••t, for them, which they projected; And oft polluted are, and of•• negl••cted. Their sacred Orders, are abus'd and made To serve them for an Office, or a Trade, To be in••iched by; and to that end The preaching of the Gospel, they intend. They come not ••y the doore into the fold; Things holy, they hav•• often ••oug••t and sold; Conspiraci••s they m••ke in matters fowle; They prey vpon the body and the soule;

And, fat and rich, and mighty to become, They daub and plaister with untemper'd ••ome. With lies, and faire pretences they beguile; And violate the Law of God, the while. His Altars they prophane, they sla••ve his flocke; They make Religion but a mocking-flocke; And, by examples horrible and vile, Cause other men, Gods Temples to defile. There is no avarice which theirs exceeds; No malice which a mischiefe sooner breeds: No pride so sutly as their Clergy-pride, Except among the Beggers, when they ride. They, who but few yeares past, would h••lfe have broke Thei•• kindreds, to have purchas'd them a cloake; And in poore threed bare Cassocks sought to preach Beneath an Vnder-Curate; or to teach The chil••ren of some Farmers, for their meat: And seem'd scarce worthy so much grace to get, Vntill by counte••f••it humility, (By fawni••g mixt with importunity, And g••lt with fained zeale) they wr••ught on some; To bring their wandring feet into their home. Ev'n some of these, so well have acted out Their part••, of seeming honest and devout; That (either like to Micahs Priest, by leaving Their Patrons; and their hopefull trust dec••iving: Or, some su••h likely wayes) they have acquired A ••i••her st••tion, then th••y first desired. They have so quaintly humour'd, and so pleased T•••• present times; that, they have proudly s••ized Supremest places: and, now, over peere Their heads by whom, they fi••st a••vanced were. And v••ry profit••ble, sure it is, To heed them, since their met••mo••••••••s••s.

For, if thou mark, how stately now they beare Their lofty heads; how insolent they are; How pitilesse to suters they become; With what contempt poore men be rated from Their angry presence; what imperious Lords Their Docto••ships are grown; what haughty words They thunder forth; what Antichristian state They take upon them; how extreame ingrate And inhumane they prove (ev'n unto those By whom, they from the dunghill first ••rose) Wer't well observ'd how strangely they contemne Their ancient friends; and twixt themselves, & them, What distances they set; or, to their kin How harsh and evill natur'd they have bin; (Except to those, that having meanes to rise As well as they, their folly do despise.) Wer't knowne, what selfe opinion they have got Of their owne worths; how they themselves besot With arrogance; how peevish, and unquiet They be in their attendance, and their diet; In small or trifling matters how severe; In those which of the greatest moment are, How carelesse growne: how envious of the grace O•• gifts bestow'd on those, in meaner place. Were notice also taken, with what straine Of p••ide and loftinesse, they entertaine Their brethren of the Clergy, when they are By any summons called to appeare ••efore th••ir Lordships; with what Pope like phrase They seek to terrifie, and to amaze Their humble Suppliants, with what balde conceits T••ey v••nt their humors, that the crew which waits To claw and sooth such follyes, may begin (In ••tead of some applause) to fleere, and grin.

How tar••ly they can chide, and raile, and play, And jest on those, who but the other day Did equall them in tempr'all dign••ties; And are more worthy, though less high they rise. Were these things heeded, and some passages Which name I could, as worthy note as th••se; A man would har••ly think, that these had beene Those Priests, who but a while before were seene So be••gerly, and so expos'd to scorne; But, that, they had (at least) beene Prelates borne. None could have thought that these mē had bin they Who lately did so bitterly invey Against the pride Episcopall; and plained, To see themselves so sleighted, and disdained Of their superiors: no man would ••ave thought These had bin poore mens children, who had nought To give them nurture; or, that they, bereft Of all their friends, were to the parish left. None would beleeve, almost, that any such Should from so little, rise to have so mu••h In such a Calling; and so wo••thlesse be In their condition: for, it seemes to ••e, They little con••cience make of that Prof••ssion, Whereby they have those glories in possession: Since then (me thinks) so ••ar they would not swerve From his pure word, whom they pretend to serve. Oh! pray that God would mak•• thos•• watchmen see What blots and errors in their c••urses be. And, that, by good example they may teach, What they by word, unto the people preach: For, by their actions▪ many overthrow The growth of that, which they themselves did sow. Or by their failing, or their falling f••••m A Christan zeale, make others cold ••ec••me.

And, some of these are those, of whom Christ sayes, We should embrace their words, but not their wayes. But, many a one will neither say nor doe, What we may follow, or give heed vnto. Yea, we have now among us many a one, (That could have spoken well) whose voice is gone, By growing over fat with double Cures: And pampring up themselves like Epicures. How many Doctors have we, who before They were advanced, from conditions poore, Were glad and willing twice each Sabbath day, To preach, and all the publike pray'rs to say? Yea, without any show of being weary, The Sacraments to give; to wed, to bury, And, often in the week, those works to do, Which by their Calling they were bound unto? Of those how many in these dayes are seene, Th••t having to promotion raised beene, Are well nigh silenc'd, now performing neither Of all those duties, for whole months together? Of these, how many lately have I knowne, So proud (or else perhaps so lazy growne) To cast upon their hirelings all that care, And al that pains, which they themselves should bear? Vouchsafing not so much as once a day, (Though they are present) publike pray'rs to say; Or preach; or, of the dutie•• to be done, To ease their Curate, in performing one? But (sitting as meere strangers, or as he Who thought such works, for him too meane to be) Take ease and state upon t••em; more I wis, Then either needfull or beseeming is. Indeed (when they are any way engaged By publike studies, weak, or sick, or aged)

Sometime to ease themselves, deserves no blame: But having no excuse, it is their shame. How unbeseeming is it, to behold Our Doctors, who nor crazy are, nor old, Nor any way disabled, save through sloth, Or through their pride (or else perchance through both) To leave that charge to some inferior one, Which is too worthy, to be undergone By him that's worth'est, in respect of all Those dignities, the world afford them shall? Why should the adding of a new Degree, Or la••ger meanes (which no additions be To their essentiall wor••h) make wise men seeme So highly praised, in their owne esteeme, As to debase that worke, for whose meere sake, Gods mercy them so eminent did make? For, if it were not so, why do they more Neglect those duties now, then heretofore? Why, in performing them, respect they so The times, and persons, as we see they do? At solemne feas••s, or in those places where Most honorable personages are, Why do they preach more often? why baptize, And wed, and bury, where their living lies, The richer fort, and let the poore alone; If what they do, for conscience sake be done? Ala••! preferment, and the being rich, Doth choak up vertues, and the mind bewitch, The daughter sleights the mother. For, Devotion Brought forth by painfull travell, faire Promotion; And lo, no sooner is Preferment borne, But, proud she growes, and doth her Mother scorne. They who d••d much sor little; now, possessing A great abundance, do requite the blessing

With doing lesse, in stead of doing more; And, marre with pride, what paine did plant before. The greater favours we from God receive, The greater thankfulnesse we should conceive. Yea, when that he advanceth us most high, We should expresse the more humility; And think, that ev'n the meanest circumstances Belonging to his holy Ordinances, Could not with reverence enough be done, When we have all our worthinesse put on. And, doubtlesse, when to God most high we raise Our hands, in offring up his publike praise, The man (in my opinion) fitteth best That work; who seemes more worthy then the rest. And, whosoever should that act eschew, (Except just cause within himselfe he knew) I know (how high soe're his place hath bin) His Calling is dishonored therein: Or, if to be assistant he doth shun, When any priestly work is to be done, Where he hath Cure: for, into others roomes, To make intrusion, no man it becomes. God grant those men humility, and care, Who otherwise, in this, affected are; And show o••r Clergie what uncomelinesse Appeares in this. For, some herein transgresse By other mens examples; and indeed, Some other men, by want of taking heed Of what they doe; who having weigh'd the fact, Will never put the same, againe, in act. Lord waken these; and, humble those, I pray, Whom pride, or vanity have led astray. And oh! ye house of Levi, warning take ye; Lest God, for times to come, examples make ye,

As he that Clergie, your example made, Whose monstrous pride, the age before you, had So great a fall. Oh! minde it, and be more Regardfull of your Charge then heretofore: Lest they that spight the Churches dignities, (And of her Dowry seek to make a prize) For your ambitious pride, occasion take, On Gods Inheritance, their pr••y to make. So will our Clergie, which is yet respected, Be scorn'd, become as poore, and as neglected, As in those Countries, where their former pride Hath made their Calling to be vilifide. Oh! leave, oh! leave your haughtinesse betimes, Your avarice, your envy, and those crimes, That are observ'd among you; left for them God shake the wall of our Ierusalem. For, heav'n and earth for me shall testifie, That this my Muse in nothing doth belye. Your manners; but that you are mo••e then stain'd, With ev'ry fault whereof I have complain'd. And as it was their Priests and Prophets sin That brought the Deluge of those troubles in, Which overwhelm'd the Iewish Commonweale: So, if with us the Lord severely deale, Your sinnes and errors will enlarge the rent, Through which the mortall arrow shall be sent, That deepest wounds. Oh! God defend us from Such judgements; or, if thou be pleas'd they come, Vpon our sinfull bodies strike the blow; And keepe us from a spirituall overthrow. Excuse me worthy Prelats; and all you Whom God with la••ge preferments doth endue, And raise to honor, out of low degrees, Because ingrafted in your hearts he sees

Such inward vertues, and such outward graces, As doe become your high and holy places; Excuse me if in ought deliver'd here, Injurious to your worths I may appeare: For, not a Line of these reproving straines, To you or any one of your pertaines; Nor need you cure, if any shall apply, These tart reproofes, to blur your Callings by: Because you know, that none are this way harmed, Who are by true and reall vertues armed. Because you also know, that some have shamed Your pl••ces by such ••••imes as I have named. I know you will not frowne, though I did say, That some of Christs Disciples would betray Their Master to his foes. Since this no more Redounds to your disgrace, then heretofore It did to his Apostles, that he said How he by one of them should be betraid. None taxe you shall, by meanes of this, but heady And hairebrain'd fooles, that are your foes already; Nor would I for the world unloose my tongue, To do the Vertuous, or your Calling wrong. Let no man gather hence, my Muse envies The Clergie, or the reverend Dignities To them pertaining; or dislike to see Great Prelates raised up from low degr••e: For, them I honor most, who from a race Of meane esteeme, have gain'd an honor'd place, By true desert. And (might I be as able As willing) I would make more honorable Their holy Callings; and for ever close Their greedy mouths, and bind the hands of those Who speak, or act, what might infringe their due, Who in those places good examples shew.

I know, among our Bishops, there are some, Who make their outward honors to become A meanes to keep Religion, and their Calling, From being vilified, and from falling Into contempt: of S••iles account th••y make not, For their owne glory: to themselves they take not Their Lordly Attributes; but to adorne Their Office, and to keep the same from scorne. Some such there are: and for the sakes of such It is, that yet our Clergie hath so much Of that esteeme which our forefathers left them; And that these greedy times have not bereft them Of those endowments which were granted here When Kings the Churches nursing Fathers were. From these reprooses, let such therefore be free; And fall the blame on those that faulty be. But, as the Shepherds have deserv'd the strokes Of Gods displeasu••e; so their wanton Flocks The same have merited; and, blame there lyes On all conditions, and fraternities. I woul•• not speake what might offend the Throne Of Iustice; or the King that fits thereon. From all taxation let him scape as free As he is innocent; yea let him be Vntouched: and, let ev'ry vertuous Peere, Be free from all, that shall be spoken here: For, I will ayme at none, but whom it shall Become an honest Muse to chide withall. In this, beleeve me Readers. For, I pray Forgive my bluntnesse. And I dare to say The Court is fraught with bribery, with hate, With envie, lust, ambition, and debate; With fawnings, with fantasticke imitation, With ••hamefull sloth, and base diffimulation.

True Vertue's almost quite exiled ••hence, And vice with vice, for chiefe preheminence M••intaineth w••rs. The mo••t profuse Excesse, And Avarice, one bo••ome oft possesse: The greater pa••t are of a Mushroome breed, Spring up upon a sudden, without seed, Or plant, or graft, and, often, in one day, (Yea som••time in a moment) swept away. With lyes, they seeke their Sover••igne to delight; And act their impudences in his sight. They flay the people, an•• their flesh they teare Ev'n from the bones; as doth a greedy Beare. They cannot broo•• the mention of their error; They drive out of their mindes the day of ter••or. Deep pits, to hide their mischiefes in, they m••ke; And think th••t God no heed of them will take. They live upon the Commons; and yet grow More fat, then others in enclosures do And, that which followes t••eir encreasing pow'r, Is but to be devoured, or devoure. Their wealth consists of Projects: their esteeme Is that which they to one another seeme. Their Honors are bare Titles; and, that state Which they themselves do fancy and create. Their Ze••le is wilfulnesse. Their Faith is such As Reason breeds; and, most times, not so much. Their Hope is something, but I know not what. Their Charity is nothing; or else that Which I should call Selfe-love. Their Strength i•• in Opinion▪ and in ablenesse to sin. Their Wisdome, and their Policy, (if we May guesse at things that undiscerned be) Is to resolve on nothi••g: so, the Foe Shall never compasse their designes to know.

Their Courtesie (if men will be content To think it may consist in Complement) Is wondro••s great. Their Valour is in oaths. Their greatest Glory doth depend on cloaths; In which they are so vaine, that ev'ry morne (Almost) a new attire by some is worne, Of sev'rall stuffes or fashions: and they dresse Their bodies, with such tedious curiousnesse, And, such a multitude of hands there are To tr••m them (and their trappings to prepare) That halfe so many, of good workmen, may Erect a house, e're they themselves aray. Of Honesty they scarce the name afford: For, should I terme one, there, an honest Lord; It might be thought as clownish, so to do, As it were fal••e, perhaps, to call him so. Gods holy Sabbaths, most among them, there, Observe not much; except it be to weare Their finest clothes. The Bus'nesses, that may, And should be done upon some other Day, Are then debated on, as frequently, As those affaires which by necessity Are urg'd upon them. And, all sorts of men (When they should serve their God) are forced then To wait upon the world; to whom God gave Sixe dayes; for ev'ry one which he should have. Nor, thereby, many other mens unrests Occasi••n they alone; but, ev'n their beasts Are then disquieted; and cannot have That right, which both Gods Lawes, & Natures, gave▪ Sometime, they to remove, that Day, prepare; Yea▪ then begun, sometimes; Removalls are; And in the Court, more Carters, we may see Employ'd that day, then through the Kingdome be.

On Sun••ayes far more Coaches rumble thither, Then doe in some three other dayes together: And, seldome have they leisure for a Play, O•• Maske, except upon Gods Holy-day. I doe not think we are obliged to A Iewish Sabbath, as great numbers do: But sure I am, from Piety we swarve, Vnlesse a Christian-one we do observe. And, though to them no fault it may appeare, Who on such Evenings do but only heare Or (for their honest recreation) view The action of some Enterlude, or Shew; Yet, needs it must be knowne, to some of these, That to prepare for such Performances, To many persons must occasions be Of Sabb••th-bre••king in a high degree. In whom this fault most lyes, as yet, my Muse Descrieth not: bu••, sure I may excuse The King: and if but halfe ••o forward were Those Clergy men that have his royall ••are, To cause him such enormities to see; As they are thought in other thing•• to be Which lesse concerne them; he would soone fo••bid Those customes; and as Nehemiah did, More hallow'd make the Sabbath. Nay if none O•• them, whose wisdome he d••pendeth on, In this have mis-inform'd him; he will prov•• O••r Nehemiah, and this fault remove, When he hath warm'd his Thro••e: for we have hope That all our Breaches he e're long shall stop. But leaving him, I'le finish the repo••t Which fits the greater number in the Co••rt. Religion they have some, but many care not I•• ••he••e the use or mention of it were not:

Some others have divided it betweene Our gracious Sov'raigne, and his royall Queene; And, till in one Religion they agree, They stand resolv'd, that they will Neuters be. Oh! make betwixt them, Lord, a blessed Vnion, And, us partakers of thy blest Communion. Our Cities are as wicked as the Court; Of he•• transgressions they come nothing short: But, rather passe them; if a man might say That Infinites admit exceeding may. And, London, thou thy Sisters all hast passed, In all the faults, whereby they have transgressed: To thee alo••e, my speech I therefore bend, And will in ••hine their follies reprehend. I know that thou hast m••ny soules in th••e, Who truly zealous of Gods glory be: Yea, thousands that by prayers and repenting, Doe seeke thy peace, and labour the preventing Of thy perdition; and, though they indure Scoffes, t••unts▪ and injuries, from thy impure And faithless•• Children ••yea, though such as are Thy shame, and m••rk•• Gods heavie wrath to beare, Contemne and malice those, and use their pow'r Those innocents to ruin•• and devoure: Yet, they are those who keep away Gods wrath; And for whose sakes be ••o long spar'd thee hath. They make that pl••asing Number, who restraine Those flames of Sulphure, that consum'd the plaine Which now the Lake Asphaltis overflowes. And when (from out of thee) God calls for those, Thou feele it shalt; and, not unlike become Those Asian Churches, which departed from Their ancient love▪ and are the loathsome den Of Satyrs, Faries, and of Beasts uncleane.

A place for Zim, and Iim; a nest for Owles, Night Ravens, Vultures, and ill-boding Fowles. And, then, in ev'ry house (as heretofore, When popish-darknesse spred this Kingdome o're) Men shall be frighted with strange dreadfull noises; Deformed visions, and hobgoblin voices. I know, Good-works in ••hee are to be found; And that, above the rest, thou dost abound In publike Charities. I know thou hast All Cities, in this Kingdome, over-past In plentifully preaching of Gods word; And, that thou bountifully dost afford Large voluntary pensions to that end. (Yea, somewhat else I might in thee commend.) But, if thou take a note of thy transgr••ssions▪ If thou at thy Assises, at thy Sessions, Or, at thy other Courts, observe, or heare, How many horrid crimes detected are; How many filthy and abhorred things, God there discloses, and to Iudgement brings; And if thou think, withall, how many m•••• Committed are, which few do come to know. Or heededst thou how few, and worthlesse, all Those works appeare, which thou dost Vertues call▪ What would they seeme, compared to thy sin? Or to those favours, which have heaped bin, By God, upon thee? Doth he owe thee ought, Or hast thou done him services for nought? Oh! LONDON, hath he not advanced thee The Mistris, and the Soveraigne to be Of all the Townes, and Cities of this Ile? Hath he not rais'd thee many a goodly pile? Art not thou plac'd above, and they below? Continuing blessings doth he not bestow?

And many priviledges, yet, deny'd To all the Burroughs of the Land beside? Behold, thou hast the principallest Trade, And all their Merchants are thy Chapmen made: Thou art the Royall Chamber of the King; Whose residence doth wealth and honor bring To magnifie thy greatnesse. Kept in thee His Parliaments, and Courts of Iustice be. Among the famoust Cities under heaven, God hath to few a situation given For pleasure, health, and profit, well united, To thee compar'd▪ Yea, God did seeme delighted In thee to make his Dwelling (ev'n among Thy Temples) by maintaining here so long His Harbengers, and Ledgers, to provide Fit mansions, for his Graces to reside. Thy God, to be thy Hu••band, thou hast had; And, wer't by him a fruitfull Mother made, So plenti••ull in Child••en; that, they play Like swarmes of Bees, about their hives, in May. No place in Europe, hath been so supply'd With soule and bodies food; or, fortifi'd By Garisons, Forts, Bulwarks, and munition, As thou art hitherto (by Gods tuition) Without such charge or trouble. And the day Will come, wherein, if any man shal•• say What peace thou hadst; and, in what plenty ••ere Thy Children lived (without want or feare) It will not be beleeved, that a Nation So blest, could suffer such an alteration. For, as (by Seas) from ev'ry other part Of Earths vast circuit, thou enclosed art: So, from the sudden comming of invasions, And from the many troubles and occasions

Of Wars and wants, which in the world, we see; Divided, also, these doe seeme to be. Such is thy blest condition; and, although Thou hast, about thee, of all things enough, That may thy pleasure, or thy need suffice; Yet, all the dainties and the rarities, The World affords, are yearely hither sent, From ev'ry quarter, of Earths Continent. Oyles, wines, and fruits, that good & pleasant are, Swimme hither through the Straights of Gibraltar. Cold Norway, (or the parts adjoyning) g••eets Thy River with materialls for thy Fleets. America doth oft renew thy store With Suger, drugs, with gold and silver Ore; With Ambergreece; with woods that sweetly smell; And other things, that please thy ••ancy well. Ormus, with Pearle thy beauties doth adorne, The Silkes of Persia, in thy st••eets are worne. From divers parts of Africa, (and from Cham's linage there) white Ivorie doth come; And Apes and Fe••thers. China, where they printed, And used Guns, ere we those Arts invented, (If Fryers be not lyers) doth impart The f••uits of their Inventions, and their Art, To thy Inhabitants. Ra••e stones o•• price, Sweet smelling gummes, and odoriferous spice, Are broug••t unto thee ma••y thousand miles; Ev'n from ••he Easterne Indies, and their Iles. This shewes Gods bounty: and of his compassion Thou lately hadst, (ev'n by thy preservation, In thy g••eat Plagues remove; and by his pitty Vouchs••fed otherwaies, unto thy City) Such evidence: that all men may confesse He did respect thee, with much tendernesse.

What should I mention more, since, to recount God•• benefits would doubtlessly amount To many Volumes? and sure none is able To number that which is ina••merable? This may suffice (for this time) to expresse His Bounty, and thy great unthankfulnesse. For, what h••st thou returned him, ••or these. And all those ••lessings, which his Love doth please To showre upon thee? What hast thou repay'd For all the Charges which he hath defraid, (In fencing, planting, and manuring thee) That worthy, such a Husbandman, may be? Thou hast faire-seeming Grapes, I must confesse, But, they are sowre, and full of rottennesse. Thou mak'st great sh••w of charitable works; But, that hypocrisie within them lurks, Which marrs their acceptation. Thou hast built Some Churches; yet, art tainted by the guilt Of Sacriledge: and, those thy gifts that eary The pioust showes have ••earce beene voluntary. Great numbers, in thy Hospitalls are fed, And lodg'd, and cured: but, the men are dead Who founded them; and few doe bring supply To such good works, till they are sick, or dye. Thou entertainest Proachers, but they must Speake pleasing things; or else away are thrust. Thou hast of Pastors, some who shewes do make Of so much Conscience, that they will forsake Their Livings rather then it shall be said Theyle weare a Surplesse: yet, some are afraid, That most of these, doe cunningly conceale Much pride or avario•• beneath their zeale, And that their suff••ing of a silencing, Doth much more liberty or profit bring,

Then two good Pers••nages: and that, thereby, Good meaning folke are brought to beggery. Thou hast redeem'd some Captives; but, it was With sparingnesse, and hardly brought to passe. Thou plantest Colonies; but, thou dost dra••ne The nourishment away, that should maintaine And settle them. God grant some be not gl••d To flye (for this) to them, that should have had More helpe from thee, and in farre Countri••s peris••, Because those plants they did no better nourish. Much know thy people; but (alas) they do As if good life belong'd not thereunto. Strict Gospellers thou hast, that can professe Religion, with much for••all holinesse: But they, like Zodoms apples, prove within As loathsome, as their ou••sides ••aire have bin. Yea, they (against their brethren) oft are found In hate, and pois'nous malice to abound. Good Orders, Lawes, and Customes thou hast many; But, very seldome exercisest any, Except for private gaine; or to acquire Some Vengeance, which thou dost, perhaps desire. Thou hast judiciall Courts, wherein I (heeding Their Lawes) saw promises of just proceeding: But, marking well their Formes, they seemed, rather, Devices for thine Officers, to gather Rich fortunes by; then to afford redresse For those, whom their oppressors doe oppresse. Thou hast a Magistracy, to maintaine The peace of honest men; and, to restraine The rage of wickednesse: but, loe; ev'n some Of those are patrons of mis-rule become; Disturbing quiet men, and thriving by Befriending sin; else I have heard a lye.

Yea, some are famed, to encrease their living, By cunning rig••ur, mixed with conniving: Deceiving honest people, by strict shewes Of punishing of those whom they excuse. For when by doing Iustice they compell A wicked man beyond their bounds to dwell, (Some thi••k) their griefe, and losse, it doth augment, As much as losing of a Tenement. Thou hast Correction-houses; but, thou mende••t Not many, whom to chasten thou p••etendest: For, thither they are oftner ••ent to ease thee Of them, or of their pilfrings, which disease thee; Then out of Christian purposes, to force Such vagrant people to a better course: And, therefore are thy Suburbs pestred now, With beggers; yea, for that, so large doth g••ow The number of thy vagrant Rogues, and Cheaters, That they begin to imitate their betters, In Government, and Method: and, are growne To have both Lawes, and Language, of ••heir owne. Thy Children yeeld some good conformity To Rules and Precepts of Morality: But, most observe good orders, to enjoy Their owne state safe, and to prevent annoy That might be••ide themselves; much ••ather, then In true obedience unto God, or men. Within thy Corporation, I likewise Have notice taken of Societies, Which be••re a goodly shew of ordering Thy sev'rall Trades: and I in many a thing Theire use commend: yet, some of them, to me, Grosse Monopolies, doe appeare to be. Which do in secret, with some open shewes Of publike good, the publike weale abuse.

Nor would it be a••isse, if some things were M••re free, which by their meanes restrained are: Or if the State would better looke unto Those injuries, which many of them do. Fo••, when these Bodies politick oppresse, Their pow'r doth make the wrong without redresse▪ Their purses, and continuance, may o'rebea••e The righ••full'st cause (if so they pleased are) The friends, and oft, the very noise they'll make, (Because a multitude) much hold doth take For their advantages; although the cause Be both against good Consci••nce, and the Lawes. Nay, should the Common••weal••h her s••lfe, oppose These Corporations, for some wrong that flowes From their proceedings; it would scarce obtaine That pow'r which could these Petty-weales restraine. For, having gaine or losse, accrewing by Their Claime, which doth concern thē, far more nigh, Then that, oft seemes to touch those men, who stand To take the Kingdomes gen'rall cause in hand, It makes them t•• pursue it, more then they; More Patrons to procure, more bribes to pay; And, at the last, to conquer▪ by that course, Which makes the better cause to seeme the worse. This brings to mind same wrongs that I have had, And what a••count of honest suits is made, If once a greedy foolish multitude Vpon the right of any doth intrude. But, left by thinking on it, mixe I may My private harmes, with what I meant to say For publike ends: here breathe I will a space, Vntill my present thoughts I can displace. Forgive me, Lord, if I have guilty beene In this my worke, of any private spleene.

My Musings h••llow thou; confirme thy love: Infuse me with thy Spirit from above, With better things then flesh and blood discernes; Inspire me with each Ve••tue which concernes The finishing of what I undertake: Make profitable all that I shall speake. And, to thy Name some honor let it be, Although it should both shame and ruine me.

The seventh Canto.

First, of Himsel••e he somewhat speakes: Then, of the Cities errors, makes A larger Scrowle, and, therewith••ll Inserts abuses generall. He sh••wes (by reason of her sin) What misery this Land is in; What ill successe, and what dishonor, Is, for her follies, come upon her, In forraigne parts, and here at home: How senselesse, also, she's become: What sev'rall wayes against this Land, God hath of late stretcht out his hand. And, how the blame for what's amisse, From one to th'o••her shift••d is. By many Symptomes, he declares How sicke this Commonweale appeares; Disputes ••he late distemper bred, Be••wixt the Body and the Head: And layes the blame, whe••e lye i•• should;

Yet, therein, proves not over-bold. T••en aymes he at some imperfections In Burgesses, and their Election••; And, briefly pointeth at the way By which our Cure effect we may.

WHen I (whose lawfully emboldned Muse The faults and errors of her time pursues) Have by some slips, or frailties of mine owne, Alaid that flame, w^ch Gods good Sp'rit hath blown; Or when such heat within me, waxeth lesse By fainting, through a nat'rall wea••inesse; Or, by that willing, or constrained pause, Whereof my friends, or bu••••nesses, are cause: At such a time, when I perusall m••ke Of these beginnings; and, strict notice take What here is dared; I oft find, as then, Such feares in me, as move in other men. And, being flesh and blood, as fraile as they, I stagger in my best approved way. E're I thus farre proceeded, I was tyr'd, Ev'n in this present Worke (although inspir'd With all that zeale thereto, which you may see In some fore-going Leaves, exprest by me) My heart was oft assail'd; and I, almost, My best confirmed Resolutions lost. Yea, twice, at least, since I this Taske assaid, It hath by false suggestions beene delaid: And, many painfull strivings are within me, When from this Worke, Temptation fights to win me. Lord! (thinks my heart) somtimes, what means my Soule To make me in this desp'rate wise controule Those carelesse Times? have I done well or no, With nests of angry Waspes to meddle so?

Hath he, or wit, or common sense, that stirs, A f••oward Beare? or playes with testy Curs? Will any think me capable of Reason, Thus bold to be at such a dangerous season? Nay, will not all account me mad to vent Such Lines as these? adventuring to be shent, And be undone, perhaps, to no more end, Then that whereto my Labor seemes to tend? Doe I conceive the Times, or Manners, be Amended ought, by what is said by me? Am I, that have, my selfe, unwisely done, A fitting man, to hurle this heavy stone At other sinners? what may many say, But that in this I raile, or else doe play The witlesse Furie? It hath brought me losse, (Thinke I) already; and will surely crosse The setling those affaires of mine, which are Nigh rip'ned, with much paine, expence, and care. And then the world, and my necessities, Begin to tempt me, by such fallacies, That I halfe yeeld. How wilt thou live, or pay Where thou engaged art? they seeme to say. By what, or whence, thy wants wilt thou supply, If thou for this imprisoned shouldst lye, Divided from thy friend••? or, on the bed Of sicknesse, shouldst by God be visited? Nay, though thou nothing wantest; yet thou ha••t So universally thy censure past, On all offenders, (and it will so vexe In private, and so openly perplex Great multitudes, so many sev'r••ll wayes) That, it will make thee hated, all thy dayes. Where dost thou live, or whi••her canst thou goe, But there thou art assured of a foe?

The City, and the Court, thou hast controld, With Commons, and with Nobles thou art bold; Vnconscionable Lawyers here are checkt. Thou dost some faults of Clergy-men detect, With so much evidence, that be thou sure Of all the mischiefe which they can procure; And that, not one of them thy friend will be Who from those imputations is not free. All they that are notoriously, Transgressors, All Schismaticks, and all our false Professors Will bitterly oppose thee. And no spight Is like the malice of an Hypocrite. In briefe (excepting those that are sincere In life and Doctrine) no man will appeare As thy partakers: And, what are those ••ew. To that great Army, which will thee pursue? If this deject me not, another thought Is by another way upon me brought•• It whispers to me, that these Li••es will wake De••raction; and that she revenge will take, For interrupting and reprouing Sinne, That in security would faine have bin. Nor, is that now unpractiz'd: For, there be A world of dogges already ba••ting me. Hypocrisie▪ and Envy doe combine, With guil••y Malice, how to undermine My good Repute, (that by a dis-respect Of me, my words may take the lesse effect) They compasse me about, they watch my wayes, And marke my speeches (as good David sayes) That if but sparkes of error, they can see, They blow them may, till flames they seeme to be. Let but a foolish word, slip out among My c••mmon t••lkings, (for alas' whose tongue

Doth never erre▪) they straight to censure take it, And, such a piece of wickednesse they make it; That, should on them a judgement ••o severe From God be past (or by the world) I feare It would so heavy on their pe••sons come; That they would think the same a cruell doome. If they but see me doe what they suppose May tend to folly, (though my Maker knowes The deed suspected, is as far from fin, As that which I am best employed in) They instantly a rash conclusion draw; And speake their dreame, as well as what they saw. They fancy in their owne corrupted thought, What may at such a time, or place, be wrought, By evill minded folks: and, thereupon, Conclude the very same by me was done. Then they ••elate it: and though nought were seene Which might indeed a likelihood have beene Of such an act; they, by themselves devise To fashion out faire probabili••ies Of what they speake: and, by the Devils aid, Acts innocent, sometimes are so betray'd; So mis reported by the spight o•• those Whose wickednesse, perhaps, I did oppose▪ Yea, blamelesse circumstances, otherwhile, Are so mistaken; and do so beguile With shewes of proving and confirming, that Which was conceived by prejudicate And false opinion; that, it makes them ••old, To think their fained slander may be told, With good beleefe: then to divulge about Their lyes (of me) they search companions out. And as they are of sundry minds who raise Such Scandals; so, they vent them divers wayes.

If of the sort they be, whose open sin, Hath in my Poems reprehended bin; Or such as they, who dai••y guilty be Of doing that, wherewith they flander me: Then, in despight, or to extenuate Their owne offences; thus, of me they prate. This man (say they) that strips & whips the times And, doth so thunder in his rayling rymes, (Against the faults of others) is no lesse Ingul••ed in the sinck of wickednesse Then he that's worst. His Dalilah hath he, And his beloved sinnes, as well as we. He such a place frequenteth; he hath beene Met there, and there: him, we have daily seene With such or such a one, at such a season: Doe so, and so; for which we know no reason: Thus he is thought to be, and thus to doe: Yea, some of them will impudently to, Affirme they saw, what they but misconceived; If they doe find their slanders vnbeleeved. And when they speake such things, they neither care To whom, nor when, nor yet how false they are. If they be such who meerely out of spight, Or envy, to disparage me, delight; (As doe some Poetasters) they forbeare To speake downeright (because they doe not dare) And utter Parables. They, knavishly, Their f••lshoods to some Truths, doe closely ty, To get beleefe. Things proper unto me, They mixe with attributes that cannot be To me apply'd, that so they may evade, When question of their purposes is made. They speake but halfe their matter out; and leave The rest, for those that heare them to conceive

What they shall please: but, first disclose they will Enough to make their best coniectures ill. With words ironicall, they doe revile me: The Valiant Poet, they in scorne doe stile me. The Chronomastix; and when taxt they are That me they meant, their meanings they forswea••. When these applauded Wits, have at the Po•• Some Novice, or some new admirer got Of their Strong-lines (which warmed by the heat, Of Sack, or Claret, they, perhaps repeat) Twere worth your sight, to see how soone the fire Of Bacchus, their large braine pans doth inspire. With mimmick straines: And how they shuffle i•• Selfe-praises; and how grossely they begin Occasions, that they may enthrall your eare With some new-pe••ee of theirs, which you shall heare Perforce; yet heare it with so much adoe, That you must thinke you have a fauour to. For with as many tedious circumstances As doth some capring foole before he dances, (Or Singer, which must tyred be with wooing, To doe what willingly, he would be doing) They doe begin to read, or to rehearse Some fragments of their new created Verse, With such a Gesture, and in such a Tone, As if Great Tamberlaine upon his Thro••e, Were utt'ring a majesticall Oration, To strike his hearers dead with admiration. Which oft so works upon their Auditory, That, to the great aduancement of their glory, They lade them with applauses, and with drinke Till they themselves▪ the Kings of Poets thinke. To which opinion, when once rais'd they be, Then shall t••e Draw••••, or the Tapster see

Their nat'rall humor, which (if true some say) Is better worthy seeing, then a Play. Among the rest, 'tis odds, but e're they goe, The Poets must be summon'd in a row To bide their drunken censure; which doth shame Those few they praise, much more then those they blame. Among the rest, it chanceth, some By-stander By naming me their Catalogue doth slander. If then a man of fashion he appeare, Who undertakes my name to mention there, The man (say these) may passe; but, such as he (By us) no Poets are esteem'd to be. A haz the way of making pretty Rimes, To fit the apprehension of the times; And, him for that, the multitude doth favour: But, in his lines, there is but little savour Of Reading, or Antiquity. Thus far They go, if they perceive their hearers are Indifferently affected. And if they Do find them jealous of my fame, they'll say, Most fawningly, sometime those wo••ds of me (In way of praise) that I should blush to be Within their hearing. Yet, they'll interpose Some jestings, now and then; or, in the close, Induce, by way of merriment, some cause To bring their good opinions to a pause. Affirming, that though Drunkard I am none, Yet, I reputed am a wanton-one: By some such way their ••pleen they'll satisfie. But, if no friend of mine appeareth by, So freely, then, they vomit all their gall, That they scarce make me any thing at all. And some, who neither knew them well, nor me, Have thought me baser then the basest be.

Some others, by their malice, thought I had Some worth in me, which them so envious made; And came to know me; and when me they knew, They told me this, which I have told to you. Some other, shew at large, they wish my shame, But to their Libels will not set their Name, For feare of danger. And though such can gaine No prudent man (at first) to entertaine Their fatherlesse reports: yet, sure they are, The world hath Knaves and Fooles enow, to heare The falsest tales; and that, when far they go, The best suspect, and oft beleeve them too. There be some other, who (out of a light Vaine hum••ur) love to heare, and to recite Mens personall defects (without intent Of doing right or wrong in what they vent) They speak at randome, whatsoe're is new, Not much regarding whether false or true; And, do but serve to beare the tale about, And blow the fire, which else would smother ou••. There is another brood of these Detractors, Who in traducing me, are common actors: And, they are such who cunningly conceale Their hate and envy with a holy zeale: They, whose Religion, and whose honest••es Consist in judging those infirmities That are in others. If these men espy Some little Atomes in their brothers eye▪ They straight as busily do heave at them, As if the smallest were a mighty Beame. Their lying suppositions must be took For verities; or ••lse they will not brook A word you speak: nay (if you do misdoubt Their ••ensures) from the Church they thrust you out.

They Charity pretend; and, though they are Well pleas'd when they have something to declare VVhich may disgrace another, they will seeme, To have his reputation in esteeme. As loth to speake; they'le bring it round about; And thus (or some such way) divulge it out. Now verily it gri••ves our very hearts, The man whom God hath blessed with such parts, Should walke in such unsancti••••ed wayes. And then, they white me over with some prayse To make the spots the blacker which they meane To spirt upon me, from their mouths uncleane. And though those Tales they build their Censures on VVere first receiv'd from some such wicked one VVhom they in other matters doe distrust, Yet is their criticisme so unjust, That in disgracing me, their words theyle take▪ And, ••lso, of themselves, conjectures make To justifie their scandal••; that they may The su••er be, their staines on me to lay. Thus by the seeming sanctity of those, My good intention (in these Poems) growe•• More frustrate, then by all the rage of them▪ VVho, with an open impudence, contemne My best Designes. These, strike me deeper than The wounds of twenty thousand others can: Ye••, by their meanes the w••rke th••t I have wrought (VVith such a minde, as th••t it might have brought More good repute, then many others get) Serves but to make me seeme a counterfeit: Yea, all my doings which are most upright They judge as actions of an Hyp••crite, VVhich is the worst of Sinners. And in this▪ If they have plac't their bitter doomes amisse,

VVhat sinne is theirs? Or, when can greater wrong, Be done at any, live he nev'r so long? Thou knowst oh! God (for thou all hearts dost know) That though through frailty, of•• astray I goe; And, otherwhile may tread that doubtfull path Of which the world a wrong opinion hath; That neither I allow of any sinne VVithi•• my selfe, nor would continue in The ••mallest error, if I knew the same. Thou knowst that what hath caus'd my greatest blame Among some Censurers; is that by which I am indeed, become most truly rich: And that it also maketh me reforme My wayes the better; and those workes performe To which thou callest, with fa••re greater ease. And I am likewise hopefull, thou wilt please To blesse my cou••ses. For, thou Lord hast knowne▪ (In that rough track, through which my feet have gone:) How griev'd I am, when I misled have been, Or in my actions, if ought hath beene se••ne Of••ensive unto others Thou dost view My path; and with what mind I doe pu••sue The way I goe▪ Thou knowest Lord, that I Have oft refrain'd the Christian liberty I might have tooke; left many that are weake Might of my lawfull freedome, evill speake. Thou knowest this; and I am certain to Th••t pleases thee which in thy feare, I doe. By these, and such like mischiefes which I see This wicked wo••ld hath power to bring on me, I oft wax doubtfull; and sometime I shrinke Ev'n from those just im••loyments, which I thinke God calls me to And then I halfe desire I might into obscurity retire

From whence I came; and be discharged quite From this great warfare, wherein, yet, I fight. For, many heavy waights on me are thrown By these engagements (to the world unknown) Yea private combats there are fought in me, So many, and so dangerous they be, That oft my Hopes are almost driven from me, And, dull Despaire would surely overcome me, Were God not alwayes ready to defend me, And, as mine faileth, his own pow'r to lend me▪ But, when my selfe o'recharged I do find; When flesh and blood begin to shrink behind; And when I see my Foes have mustred all Their force against me: I start up, and call A better ayd then mine own Vertue gives me; And, by his holy Spirit, God relieves me: He makes me strong, in each good undertaking; A••d answers all the doubts my heart is making, In ••his, and all good purposes, whereby I have been hopefull him to glorifie. He warrants me I have no cause to feare These Lines the fruits of thoughts distempred are, Though some shall judge them such; since he whose mouth Doth speak the words of sobernes and truth, May seem to those, who thought judicious are, As mad, as Paul, to Festus, did appeare. He hath assured me, I cannot run This honest way, a course to be undone. He doth perswade me, that if I grow poore By doing well; my wealth shall be the more. He sayes, that if his glory I have sought, (And for no wicked purpose closely wrought) I shall no mischiefe, nor displeasure have; Nor any losse, by which I shall not save.

He makes me ce••taine that my former paine, And this endeavor, some effect shall gaine; Although it compasse not that reformation, Which I desire to see in this our Nation. For though their present evills be not staid From growing worse, by that which I have said; It shall to other times a warning give, And aggravate their faults who now do live; If, having such a plaine Remembrancer, Their (called for) Repentance they defer. He bids me know, that though I am not Sainted, So much, as of all sin to live untainted, Yet▪ to oppose each Vice, as I am able, (In word and deed) it will be warrantable; And, that, to strike at Sin, t'will all become, Though Persons may be touched but of some. He tells me, that (although the world shall please To terme it railing, when such Messages Are utt••ed forth) it cannot bring me shame, To call g••osse Sinners by their proper name; And, that Gods blessed Saints have done as much, Who aid the fol••ies of their ages tou••h. He wills me that on him I should depend; And, not distrust that while he me doth s••nd About his bus••nesse, he will suffer mine To be unprosperous, or my soule to pine. Since unto him that for his glory strives, The promise of all needfull things he gives. He strengthens me, and gives me satisfaction Against all envie, malice, or detraction: Sayes, that a guiltlesse conscience needs not care How bitter or foule▪ mouthed others are: Perswades me, that if my repute be needfull To honor him; he will, himselfe, be heedfull

To keepe it faire: Else, glorifi•• his Name The more, perhaps, by bringing me to shame. And, so the Name of God I glorifie, I pleased am, though I have infamy. By these, and many other such like things Which God (I trust) to my remembrance brings, My fainting soule is cheered, when she droupes; These, raise againe my courage when it stoupes: And though illusions these appeare, to some, Yet, to approve of them a tim•• will come; And, when that Day of tryall, on shall draw, (Which I attend for, both with joy and awe) It shall be knowne, whose heart was most upright▪ Or mine, or theirs, that in my harme delight: For, then their Iustice which a vaile yet weares. Will shine like Phoebus when no Cloud appeares. Thereof (just now) I have an earnest given: These Musings drew it (for me) downe frō heaven: I feele them warme my heart, and fetch againe My chilled blood, to run in ev'ry veine. They rouze my spirits, and my drouping soule They so revive, that now I could controll An hoast of Kings. For, now (ju••t now) the glowing, Of their kind ••eat, I find more strongly growing: Iust now I feele in me their operation, To urge me forward to the consummation Of what my fo••mer Canto's have beg••n: And, Go•• assi••ting that shall no•• be done To thee oh London, I directed last My just reproofe; And I will back••a••d cast An eye on thee againe: For, off I brake My speech before my mind I fully spake. I have not vented yet, what I could say Of many sinnes abounding at this day;

As, thy intemp'rancy, and thy excesse In food and rayment, thy loose drunkenesse; Thy multitudes of beggers, which encrease For want of orders, in thy Times of peace. Thy Sloth, Lust, Avarice, and all that rabble Of vices, and of things abominable Which in each corner of thy streets appeare, As if they justly tollerated were. I toucht not thy corrupted Officers, I have not mentioned thy Senators, Nor have I showne as yet what scandall growes To thee, and unto thine, by some of those; How partiall, nor how ignorant they be, How prejudiciall many times to thee, And to thy publike weale, for private gaine▪ How cowardly thy Customes they maintaine▪ How ••eadily thy Freedomes they betray (If their promotions, it ought further may, Or spare their purses) This, I have not showne, For, what belongs thereto, is better knowne To others then to me. Yet, much hath beene Of them reported; and I much have seene Of their condition, which deserveth blam••▪ Nor doe I greatly wonder at the same▪ But I, much rather marvell that in thee So many prudent Senators there be; Since, very few of all thy double dozen For Courage, wit or honesty are chosen. Wealth makes an Alderman (however got) If he be pleased to accept the Lot. In hope to gaine his Fine, thou wilt adventer To let the most ignoble fellow enter That is but rich; and worthy men forgoe, Who to thy Government, might ho••or doe.

Thou seldome carest how he did become So••••ch, if he but harrow up the sum Th••t makes him capable of such a place; Nor heedest thou, a jot, how base he was. No honest Occupations I contemne, Nor their professors; but I honor them, Though of the lowest order; If I find They have not lost the vertues of the mind, In those meane Callings; and, have sought as much In knowledge, as in mony, to be rich: Yea, those (when from poore fortunes they ascend, To wealth) to honor also I commend. But, is it possible, that man whose minde To serve his Mammon only, was enclin'd; Or is it possible, the man that had By birth and breeding, nothing but a trade To get experience by; (and, that perchance ••ome handicraft, which furthers ignorance In usefull knowledge) or, that they who scrape And scratch together an unweildy heape Of needlesse riches, by penurious fare; By sparing••esse, in what they should not spare: Or, which is worse, by cruellest extortion; By robbing others of their lawfull portion, By rapine, guile, and such impieties; Is't possible (I say) when these m••n rise To weare thy skarlet-Robe; that they will be Or honor, or advantage unto thee? If those black Aeth••ops, if those Leopards, change Their spots, or colour, I shall think it strange: If ever they regard what weights be throwne Vpon thy back, so they may ease their owne: Or for thine honor stand (who have no sense Of any thing▪ but saving, and expence)

I shall beleve that Wolves will tend our Sheep, And greedy Kites, young Chickens harmlesse keep. I might have mention made of that report Which is divulged of thy Orphanes court: Of those perpetuall Iurors, which for pay Attend judiciall trials day by day: Of those Ingrossers who thy trades abuse; Of those who make thy Freedomes and thy Dues A dammage to thee: and of other some, Who other wayes injurious are become, I might have spoke; and would; but that I hear•• They do already sound in ev'ry eare. Truth is, the spreading leprosie of sin, Into thy very wals have eaten in, And will not thence be scraped out (I feare) As long as there be stones, or morter there. Thy Vineyard brings not forth wilde grapes alone, In lieu of all thy God bestow'd thereon; But, also, of it selfe prevents his curse, And hath produced what is ten times worse: Thornes, bryers, nettles, hemlock, and such weeds As choke all pleasant plants, and fruitfull seeds. No place, no person, calling, nor degree, Nor sex, nor age, is from corruption free. Within thy Chambers lodgeth Wantonnesse; Vpon thy Boards is heaped all excesse: With vomitings, they oft o'reflowed are; And, from uncleannesses no Roome is cleare. Thy Hals are daily filled with a rable That stand and sweare about a Shove-groat table. Within thy Parlours, I can little see, But visiting of Mistris-idle-be. Within thy Wardrobes, Pride layes up her store▪ Vpon thy Couches, Sloth dot•• lye and snore.

Within thy Pleading-Courts, are shameles railings, And, of upright proceeding, many failings. Thy Churches (be it spoke without offence) Are full of rudenesse, and irreverence. Thou usest in thy Shops ••alse weights and lying; Vnpitied at thy Dores, the poore a••e crying. Within thy Closs••ts, mischiefes are invented; Thy Theaters a••e usu••lly frequented Wit•• perso••s dissolute: disparag'd are Sometimes, the most de••erving actions, there. There, see you may uncomely p••esentations, And often heare unchristian p••ophanations. Yea, ev'••y corne••, ev'ry street, and p••th An overf••••w of sinne, and folly hath. Am••ng thy Feasts, are surfetting•• uncleane; Vaine curiosities, and songs obsceane. Thy Merry m••etings the procurers be Of most disor••ers that are found in thee: There, lawlesse games are used; there, are broched Vile sl••nders; and, good men are there reproched. There, they that a••e not good, are oft made worse By lewd examples▪ or prophane discourse. And, few contentions have occasion'd bin, But, at such meetings, they did first beg••n. Thy Aged-folke are froward, avaritious, Selfe willed, and imprudently ambitious. The yonger fort, are ••eadstro••g, rash, and haughty, Thy Children are forgetfull of their duty. The men imperiously their power abuse, And counsell from their helpers doe refuse. Thy women▪ too much dote on vaine attire••, And are incon••tant in their owne desires. The Magistrates doe bad examples give, And, as men borne but for themselves they live.

Of persons, they retaine too much respect: Their places, for their credits, they affect (O•• for their gaine) but n••t for conscience sake▪ Inferior Officers, doe also take The selfe-same courses: and (in what they doe) Are parti••ll, cruell and unfaithfull to. Few single-persons live in chastity; In Mariage, there is much disloyalty. Perpe••uall suites, and quarrels I doe see Among those Neig••bour••, that sh••••••d loving be: No malice is like that which I have knowne, Twixt Brothers, when dissention hath beene sowne. Their p••actices, who friend••hip doe p••ofesse (In my op••nion) promise nothing lesse: For, all their form all kindnesse, oft is spent In visitings, and fruitlesse complement. And, all t••ey seeke (for ought that I perceive) Is, how they one another may deceive In friendly Terme••; Or, how to doe as they Who act the parts o•• friendship in a Play. Thy Richmen, doe Idolatry commit With M••mmon, and Gods benefi••s fo••get. Am••ng the poore are many wicked t••ings; Impaciency, ungodly murmurings, Theft, scolding fightings, cursings, taleing, lies; And though they live by others charities, N•• people will pursue each other so With malice and d••spig••t as they will doe. At D••ores and windowes, Strumpets impudent D••e si••; and wanton gestures there invent To woo, by their allu••ìng provocations, Vaine men to drinke their Cup of Fo••ni••ations. T••y Suburbs, are the Coverts, and the den W••••rein are sh••ltred many beasts uncleane.

Thy Tavernes, are the places where most soule And hainous things are done, without controule. There▪ d••ink they healths, till health is drunk away; And, nought ashamed are to let the day Be w••••nesse of their drunken vomitings, Brawles, ••eelings, ravings, and such brutish things: Nay, to consume the day in drunkennesse, A••d all the night, is nothing now, unlesse T••e Hoboyes, Cornets, Drum and Trumpet sound, To tell the neighbours how the healths go round. And when, acco••ding to their heathnish fashions, They offer up their devillish Drink-obla••••ons, What do they better then Idolatries, And Festivals, to Bacchus solemnize? In thee (beside thy proper faults) are found Those also which are common, and abound Throughout thy Kingdomes. And ev'n thou, and they Have beene companions in one evill way. We all, as in one Teeme, have drawne on sin; Gods promises and threatnings mockt have bin; The lust mans righteousnesse we have bely'd; And, sinners, in their sins, have justifi'd. Of Good and Evill, we exchange the name; And, that, which to remember, is our shame, Or should with griefe repented be; ev'n that We tell with laughter; and make jests thereat. Gods Iudgements work not on us; we are scourged; And yet, unto amendment are not urged. We break the Sabbath-dayes, and we despise The Churches pow'r, and her Solemnities. Her Holy-times to us are wearisome; And in our hearts, we wish the morrow come, That we might freely buy and sell againe. Those Messengers we soonest entertaine,

That of strong drink, and wine, do prophe••ie; And, Truth is not so welcome as a ••ye. We sooth our neighbours in their sinfulnesse: And (that their secrets, and their nakednesse We may discover) we the wine bestow; Then, work upon then to their overthrow. Vpon our lusts, the precioust things we spend; And unto God the Lame and Blind we send. We rob him of his Tythes, and his Oblations, Our publike Fasts, are publike prophanation••: For, ev'n our pray'rs, our fasts, our almes, and all, Are oft for show, and hypocriticall: And used more, our safeties to provide, Then that our Maker may be glorifi'd. Our hearts against Gods Prophets hardned are▪ And what they preach or threat, we little care. The Land, throughout, because of Othes doth mourn; We stagger in our paths; and to returne To Aegypt ready seeme; unlesse God grant (••t our first longing) ev'ry toy we want. The blood of Innocents hath spilled been Vpon our skirts; most filthy things are seen Within our vessels; and, yet, some of us Presume to say (ev'n to our brethren) thus; Stand off, for we more holy are then ye. And, these like smoak within Gods nostrils be▪ We stumble at noone day: and as the blind, We groap, uncertainly, the wall to find▪ With Death, and Hell, a bargaine we have made▪ And, nothing for our hopes, but lies have had. If any Morall Verues do appeare; With some unsavorinesse they leaven'd are. If any do a kindnesse to his brother, It is in policy to get another:

Or else, with some upbraiding, or vaine boast, Whereby the comfort of the deed is lost. If ought be spoken to anothers praise, It is some p••ofit to our selves to raise. If comfort to the grieued be p••etended, The grieved party is as ill bef••iended As Iob: For, what we doe is but for fashion; Without good meaning, wisdome, or compassion. If we instruct, we doe it but to show That we much more then other men doe know. If we our brethrens errors doe reprov••▪ It is not as it ought to be, in love: But, with such bitternesse as plaine doth shew, We more the person, then the vice pursue. We cann••t give an Alme••, but we must sound A trumpet: neither wall a rod of ground For publike use: nor set a pane of glass•• In some Church-window, where it needlesse wa••; Nor trimme a pulpit, nor erect a stile; Nor mend a foot path, though but halfe a mile; Nor, by the highway side, set up a stone To get a horsebacke; but we fixe thereon Our Names, or somewhere leave upon record, What befactors we have beene (good Lord) For such hypocrisies, and sinnes a•• these On other places, doth Gods judgements seize: For these, thy Pastors oft have warned thee; For these, they said thou shouldst afflicted be: And, at this present, veng••nce is begun; Thoug•• ignorant thou seeme of what is done. For these offences, God did now of late Make all thy fairest lo••gings desolate. For them, the Pestilence continues yet, A••d we with scabs, and sores, and blames are smit.

For them, thou of thy braveries uncloth'd, Wert in thy greatest sorrow, left and loth'd, For them, a Famine lately did begin. For them, have goodly habitations bin Consum'd by fire. For this, the goods of some A prey to Seas, and Pyrats are become. For them, thy tradings faile, that were enlarged; And thou sor single gaine, art double charged. For them, the Sword (that such a while hath hung Sheath'd up) is newly drawne, and will ere long Devoure thy sons and daughters; if there be No more Repentance then yet seemes in thee: Yee throughout all this Iland, it will rage And lay it wast before another age. For, not our ••ities onely tainted are With sinnes contagion; but ev'n ev'ry where This Land is so diseas'd, that many doubt (Before it mend) some blood must issue out. There is not any Towneship, Village, Borrough, Or petty Hamlet, all this Kingdome thorough, But merits (in proportion) as much blame, As any City of the greatest fame. The simple seeming Peasants of the Land, (Who for their Names do make their sh••epmark•• stāl And have not so much Cle••k••hip, as to sp••ll) Can play the subtil•• cheating knaves, as well As m••ny cu••ning Sophisters; and cogge, And lie, and prate of Law, and pettifogge As craftily (som••times) as ma••y a one Who, divers yeares hath studied Littleton. Yea, they who never had the wit to learne Those knowledges which honesty concerne; Have witty craft e••ough to entertaine Or plot a bargaine for unlawfull gaine.

They persecute each other▪ they envy Their neighbours welfare, and prosperity; They drive each other from their tenements; And are the causes of inhauncing rents, By over-bidding (for their neighbours Land) Those Fines the Land-lords purpos'd to demand; Yet stand their Farmes already rackt so high, That ••hey have begger'd halfe their Tenantry. In divers townes they have decayed tillage; Depopulated many a goodly village; Yea, joyned field to field, till for the poore No place is yeelded, nor employment more: And, where were housholds, lately, many a one, A Shepheard and his Dog, now dwell alone. To make of griping Vsury their trade, Among the Rich, no scruple now is made In any place: for, ev'ry Country Village, Hath now some Vsury, as well as Tillage. Yea, they that lending most of all detest, Though but for tollerated Interest, Do nathelesse take those Annuities, Which often prove the biting'st Vsuries. By nature, Mony no encrease doth bring: Most, therefore, think it a prodigeous thing That Mony put to lone, should bring in gaine. Yet some of these, by practice do maintaine As monstrous usuries, and nought at all Are tou••hed in their conscience therewithall. In usury of Cattell, or of Leases, We may disburse our mony for encreases More biting far, then those he dares to take, Who by meere lending, doth advantage make. As Mony nat'rally produceth nought, So, by the Earth small profit forth is brought

Vntill both cost and labour we bestow, For little, else, but thornes and weeds will grow. The Landlord, therefore, here I dare aver, To be no lesse a griping Vsurer Then is the Mony-master, if he break The Rule of Christian Charity, and take More profit then his tenant can affo••d; And such as these are hated of the Lord. Of Vsurers, there are some other sorts, Who keep no certaine place: but, both in Courts▪ In Cities, and in Country townes they dwell, And in the trick of griping they excell. There be of these, that Vse for Silence take. Some others, an usurious profi•• make Of their Authorities; and do advance Their wealth, by giving others countenance. Their cariages, their neighbours fetch, and bring; They have their seed-time and their harvesting, Dispatcht almost for nothing: such as these, Are many of our Country Iustices. Some, by another engine profit catch: They must be pray'd and payed for dispatch. Yea, Cla••kes, and many other Officers, Are greater, and more hatefull Vsurers, Then they that most a••e hated for that crime▪ Since these do often for a little time (Which they delay unjustly) take what may Of no meane sum, the annuall Interest pay. These men are cruell. And, yet worse by far, Most Treasurers, and their pay-m••sters are. For, that which due unto us doth remaine, They do not only overlong detaine. But, oft, of ev'ry hundred, twenty take, E're payment of our owne, to us, they make.

They must have Bribes; their wives must have Ca∣ro••hes Or ho••se, or jewells; after which encroches Their servant also, for some other dues (As they p••etend) which if we doe refuse To pay unto them, twise as much we leese. This tricke inricheth also ••eferres In Chancery, and in some other Courts And this or makes, or marreth most Reports, This, is that common Cheat, and meanes by which Meane Officers, so speedily grow rich, Although they give large Incomes. By this way Their wives doe on a sudden grow so gay, That were but Kitchin-maid•• few yeares before. Yea, many in the blood of Orphanes poore, Have dide their gownes in scarlet by such courses, And cloth'd, & fed themselves, with widdowes cu••ses. But, these Destroyers, make not spoyle of all▪ For, ••ull as many into ruinefall By complement, and foolish emulating Their neighbours; otherwhile, by imitating The City Fashions. Yea, by these, and some Such other wayes, are many men become So wėake in their estates; that most of those Who live in fashion, and make handsome showes Of being rich, would prove (I am afraid) Far worse then nothing, if their debts were paid. This floweth from our pride, or from excesse; And this is cause of other wickednesse▪ But, in our Iland, one thing I have seene, Which (though it hath not much observed beene To be a fault) will make a large addition To fill the measure of this Lands transgression. And much I am afraid, that all in vaine I shall of this impiety complaine.

For, Avarice, who nought will give away, Whereon her griple fingers she can lay, Pleads for it: yea, and Custome hath so long Confirm'd it, that, it is a lawfull wrong▪ I doe not meane the Laities retaining Of Tithes, or Lands unto the Church pertaining. For, though I would not build my house with ought▪ Which from the Sanctuary had been•• c••ught, To gaine the world, y••t, I may doe amisse To judge of others Consciences in this. It is the barbarous usage, wherewith we Doe entertaine those men that shipwra••kt be, Which here I meane: For, many people have Lesse mercy then the Tempest, and the wave. That Vessell, which the Rocks had pitty on, The cruelty of man doth seize upon; And him that is oppressed, quite bereaves Of what the quicksand und••voured leaves. When some poore ship upon the billowes tost, Is driven by a storme upon the Coast, With rudder lost, with t••cklings rent and torne, With maine-mast split, and fore-mast overborne; And reeles and rowles, and takes in water so That all the Mariners through feare forgoe Their crazie Charge, some swimming to the shoare•• On peeces of the decke, or broken oares. Some on an empty Chest; some holding fast O•• splinters of a Yard, or of a Mast; Now riding on the waves; straight sinking downe▪ Now hoping life, anon afraid to drowne; Pu•• off, and on; yet lab'ring to attaine The Land, in hope more pitty there to gaine: I•• this poore plight, when they (with much adoe) A dryer ••lement have ••ea••ht unto,

And, wet and tyred (both on feet and hands) Come creeping, or else staggering on the sands▪ The neighb'ring people (who in this are far More s••lvage, then most barbarous Nations are) In stead of bringing comfort and reliefe, Add new afflictions to their former griefe, By taking that small meanes which is reserved To keep them living, when their life's prese••ved. Fo••, those remaining fragments of the••r store, Which God, sometimes, in pity sends ashore To help n••w cloath and feed them, till there come Some friends to aid them; or supplies from home; Ev'n spoile of those they mak••: and of th•• prey ••o greedy are; that often when these may Mens lives preserve, they leave them to their chance, In hope their death, their profit will advance. And, if that b••uised-Bark which they fo••sook (To save their lives) upon some Ouze hath strook, Or on some shelve; from whence, by timely aid, The goods to land may safely be convaid. Or if (as chance it may) the Hull be saved, Yet, thereof, is the Owner qui••e bereaved. For, by a brutish Custome (which, I know, Nor Co••sci••nce, nor good Reason doth allow) Some Officer who farmes the Royalties Within that place, doth make thereof a prize. Else, he that owns the Land whereon it fals, Doth seize it: and, his right, the same he calls. Pa••l did a peop••e, ev'n at Malta, find, (Although a barb'rous Iland) far more kind. Men wrackt, they comforted; but we bereave them Of those remainders which the Sea doth leave them; Except some living thing abiding be Aboard the Ship. For, then the same is fr••e

From being pr••v'd a wrack (we say) though that Which there surviveth, be some Dog, o•• Cat: A goodly matter, surely, whereupon Poore men should be reli••ved, or undone. Some dw••llers, also, on those Borders, where Such wofull sights, too often viewed are, Rejoyce to see them; yea, some people say, That, for such mischiefes, they both watch and pray; With curs••s, banning the••, who set up Lights, To guide the Seaman in dark stormy nights. And (though they ••eek it with a devillish mind) Gods-good, they call, what on the shore th••y find. Gods-gift, in••eed it is, which unto them Do••h from the Seas, without an owner swim: Yet, when the master of it shall be knowne▪ Gods gift it is not; but a bai••, that's throwne To catch the soules of those, who seek to raise Their fortunes on distressed mens decayes. No marvell, while such cruelties are found (Vpon the Coast) the Sea o'reflowes her bound. No marvell, she so often, here and there, Doth from their fields so many furlongs teare. No marvell she, sometime, their cattle drownes, And, sweeps away the rich••s of their townes: Or, of those people, otherwhile, devoures So many housholds, in a few sho••t houres: For, since they grieved others, in distresse, The Sea, to them, is justly mercilesse. Of many other things, complaine I could, Which th••ough this Kingdome, I amisse, behold: But, should I now an Inven••ory make Of each abuse, whereof I notice take In all professions; sure, it would goe neare, To finde my Readers, reading for a yeare.

I feare, our gen'••all Body f••reth so, As, in the•• sicknesse, they often do Who feele not their disease, when they are nigh (Without good help) upon the point to dye. They would not be distu••b'd; but, vex and fret, At those who do prepare them wholsome meat, Or needfull Physick: and, perhaps, with me My Country, also, will displeased be. But, for unjust displeasure, 'tis no matter; As faith••ull friends (to sick men) will not slatter, Nor humor them in any such disease; No more will I be fearfull to displease A sickly people, when I truly know, I do that work my Conscience calls me to. I tell thee therefore, Britaine, thou art sick; Thy sins have made thee so; and thou art like To perish in them, if thou physick take not, And, for thy safety, good provision make not. If thou nor feelest, nor wilt ••redit give To what is spoken: Mark thou, and beleeve The Symptomes of it. For, they will declare So truly, how (at this time) thou dost far••, That they who are not reasonlesse, shall see And say (in times to come) I loved thee. Behold, ev'n at this day, throughout the Land, Most Manu-factories are at a stand; And, of those Engines, some main wheeles are broke, Though where they faulty be, small heed be took. Thy Mer••hants, by whose trade great profit comes (And, to the Kings Exchequer, royall sums) Those M••rcuries, by whose industrious paine. Thou di••st becom•• the Mistresse of the Maine, And art maintain'd with ships, which are the walls, By which thy temp'rall gr••atnesse, ••t••••ds, or falls.

Ev'n they, begin to sinke, for want of trade, And through those boo••ies which of them are m••de. Their Ship•• without advantage are employ'd; And if the Wars, or Time, had them destroy'd Which are in being; they have (to augment Or fill the number) no encouragement. The present muster of thy shipping, failes Of what it was, in many scores of failes, Not long ••ime since: and, thy next neigh'bring nation Growes rich in thy decaying Navigation. Yea, some suspect, that of our publike Trade (For private profit) sale to them is made. Indeed, ••ost Office••s, if so they may Enlarge thei•• profits, for the present day; Or gaine, or save the King, but for a yeare, Some tho••••and••, do suppose they much endeare Their service to the State: when ('tis well knowne To us abroad) the gaine is most their owne: And that, before two ages more be spent, The waies by which their incomes they augment, Will cost this Kingdome, for each ounce of gold So got, hundred, if their courses hold. It is by them, the Prince becommeth poore. And (thou••h they would be thought (forsooth) much more Then all his other subjects, to maintaine The dues belonging to a Soveraigne) They rob him more, then all men else beside: They lose him ten times more then they provide. They make him needy first; and then they grieve, And begger them, that should his wants relieve. The vulgar Cit••z••ns do much complaine For want of tra••e sufficient to maintaine Their families; and, many, lately broken, Are of that poverty a certaine token.

That famous and that wealthy Merchandize, Which from our clothings, and our wooll•• arise, Is much decay'd. For work, the poore man prayes: The Clothier hath not mony; and he layes The blame upon the Merchant; who doth sweare, His ships and goods, so often stayed are, And times so giddy, and so little got (With so much perill) that he dareth not To make adventures, as 〈◊〉〈◊〉 e••st hath done▪ And, so, to ruine all is like to run. For, from their voyages so oft have some Beene hindred (or have beene so long from home In fruitfulesse services) that it hath brought Rich Owners, and their Vessels, unto nought. Some others, also find it, to maintaine Their, shi••s so costly, (without hope of gaine) That to repaire them they do stand in feare It may undoe them, e're things better'd are; That (might their men be safe) they do protest▪ They know not, if to sink, or swi•• were best. The winds and seas, that here••ofore ha••e borne us Good will; have prov'd our foes, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 & torne u••. Our Mariners are like to run away To serve our foes, for want of work▪ and pay. Those places, and those portion••, which belong To mens deserts; and should to make them strong, And to encourage them, conferred be; Are otherwise d••spos••d of: and w•• see The most deserving men are in disgraces▪ Or else neglected; or else, in their places Impoverished (or else disheart•••••• so) T••at some men will not; and some cannot do Their Country that good service which they might. And, if this hold, we lose our honor quite.

By those adventures, which are just and free To ev'ry Nation, where good Patriots be, Thy sons, to fetch thee wealth, and honour home, Would prodigall of goods and lives become; By private cost, augment the publike store, And by encr••ase of shipping guard thy shore; If they might freely seek, and keep that lot, Which by their cost and valour might be got. But, men that are of courage, and of worth, Disdaine their goods and lives to hazard forth, On servile termes; or, to be prey'd upon When they returne, by some ignoble Drone: And, by this meanes, oh thou unhappy Ile, Thy ••oes grow strong, & thou grow'st weak the while. I do protest, I see not that condition Of man, that hath a fortune in fruition, That is not perilsome; but, he that's borne The mischiefes of this present life to scorne. Nor from the highest to the low'st degree, Doth any man well pleased seeme to be. The King complaines of want: his Servants say, They stand ingag'd in more then they can pay: And they who in their person service do him, Want much of that which should oblige them to him. The charge of War, still more and more doth grow; The Customes faile as trading falleth low: There's new occasion ev'ry day of spending, And much more borr'wing, then good means of len∣ding. 'Tis said, some royall Rents to sale were profer'd; That Iewels of the Crowne to pawne were offer'd: Tha•• Church Revennues, for the present need, Sequestred are (to stand a while in stead Of temp'ralties) And▪ some themselves perswade, That, they shall now be lay possessions made.

But, God forbid: for he that shall bereave The Church of her inhe••itance, doth leave A curse upon his children; which will stay Vn••••ll his whole descent be wo••ne away. To help thy wants, (so great it seemes they prove) There be of those who did not blush to move Religion might be set to ••ale; and that We might promiscuous worships tollerate. The common people murmur of oppressions; Of being robbed of their due possessions; Of impudent abuses, done by those Who should redresse them: ev'ry winde that blowes, Brings tidings of ill luck; yet, still men feare There's worse untold, then that which they do hear••. For, we have lying Newes authorised So long; and falshoods, have so many spread; That, when of that a true report is told Whereof a firme beleefe receive we should, We cannot credit it: and, this, perchance, May to our safety be some hinderance. If in our selves, we feele not what's amisse, Observe we, by ••eflection, what it is. The Germane Emp'rour, and two King••, that be As rich and pow'rfull, ev'ry way as he, Are Foes pro••essed; and they bend their pow'r, Our Countries, and our Nation to devoure: And, while to fight Gods battel••men do faine▪ The Kingdome of the Devill they maint••ine. Our Friends, and our Consederates; for us, Engag'd in undertakings dangerous. Have suffred losse; and yet, in hazard are By an unequall and injurious war. Some, who possesse an Vnion with our Land, Do work their owne advantage underh••••d,

To our disgrace and losses. Other some, Are neuters yet, who will our foes become, And with our enemies the spoile divide, If any ill Adventur•• shall betide. That princely Branch of our most royall Stem, Made poore by the Bohemian Diadem, (But, rich in her owne vertues, and that trea••••re Of heav'nly graces, which in plenteous measure Gods bounty gave her) that illustrious D••me, (To whom I owe, ev'n more then all I am) Lives banisht, (oh! the mischieves of this age) And quite excluded from her heritage. Her LORD, and all those deare and hopefull Peeces, Drawne off by them; the Nephewes, and the Neeces Of our dread Sov'raigne, are as pilgrims, faine Within a forraine Country to remaine. Our costly Treaties, do but crossely speed. Our new Alliance, proves a broken Reed. Our fo••raine enterprizes, full of charge, Do serve but others glories to enlarge. Our mighty Navies strongly furnisht ou••, Have lost their pains, in what they went about. One little Towne keeps all our Ports in feare; Vpon the Seas, our Coasters scared are; And, we that bore the Trident of the Seas; We, who of l••te, with smaller Fleets, then these Which now we set aflote, did once constraine The Carraks, and the Argofies of Spaine To strike their sailes: we, that have aw'd the Deeps, And ev'ry Foreland, through the world, that peeps Above the Seas: yea, we that from each shore, Whereon the brinish waves of Neptune rore, Have brought rich Trophees of our valours home, Now, back with neither spoiles, nor honors, come.

God, with our Fleets, and Armies, doth not so Go forth of late, as he did use to doe. But, divers yeares together, as of••ended, His arme ag••••nst our forces h••th extended▪ That hopefull Voyage, w••ich brave Rawleigh made, To prosecute tho••e golden hopes he had, Was overthrowne, and, (to enlarge the cost) In him, we more in wit, th••n mony lost. For, to resist us, God himselfe did stand: And, st••ll against us, he extends his hand. Vpon A••geir we had a faire designe, That much extracted from our silver Mine, But▪ nothing prosper'd, which was then projected, Nor was there ought, but losse and shame effected; For, God preserv'd our enemies from harme: And, still, against us, stretcheth he his arme. When in Virginia we had n••rsed long Our Colonies, and hoped they were strong▪ And, almost able to subsist alone: By n••ked people they were set upon, And, sore endanger'd: For, on us▪ fo•• ill, God laid his hand; and layes it on us still. Auxiliary forces, forth we se••t; (Or, voluntarily from us they went) To settle on Bohemiahs fatall throne, Him, whom that Land had cast her choice upon. But, there our men were wasted: and in steed Of Iacobs staffe, we proved Egypts-reed: For, God against our pow'rs his pow'r did set; And, he his band doth raise against us, ••et. We made new Leavies, and marcht up the Rhine, To guard the Country of the Palatine; But, all in vaine. For, nothing did we there, Except prolong the miseries of War.

God, would not that deliver'd they should be By people that so wicked are as we. But, scourged them and us, in bitter wise; And, still, his heavy hand upon us lies. Then, mustred we Ambassadors together; We sent them oft, and almost ev'ry whither; But, by our Treaties we acquired nought: Nay, many disadvantages they brought; For, then, our foes for battle did prepare, When we of peace together treating were. Yea, God hath caus'd the h••rme that they have done us; And, still, his hand li••s heavily upon us. The fortune of the War we tride againe By Mansfield; which did ••••kewise prove in vaine. To Denmark also we did send supplies, And there, moreover, sick and bleeding lies O••r honor. And, yet still, against our Land The Lord of Hosts hath stret••hed out his hand. Throughout the Easterne Indies where we had A wealthy and an honorable Trade, A petty Nation, doth now baffle, dare us, And, out of trading, hope e're long to weare us. Our glorious Fleet, that lately braved Cales, Of her exploits affords not many tales. Another▪ and another too, since then, Was put to sea, and driven home agen All shaken and be••atter'd. Some, the wind Sent back, and frustrate made what was design'd. Some others, were by other lets delay'd, And, made to faile, in that which they assail'd: For, God with this our Nation was offended; And, yet, his hand against us 〈◊〉〈◊〉 extended. Another N••vie, worthy greater note, Then all of these forenamed, now doth flo••e

Vpon the seas: and such a fame it beares, That all the neighb••ring kingdome•• it deters. For, Land and Sea it threatens: and we heare Before the Ile of Ree, at rode they are, Where they of brave atchievements hopefull grow. I wish, and I do pray it may be so As they desi••e, if God be ••l••as'd therein. But, much I feare, that we have guilty bin Of somewhat unrepented yet, that will Make all our undertakings prosper ill, Till we are humbled more. For, God hath laine His heavy hand upon us, long in vaine. And, though our hearts with foolish hopes we fill, His Arme, against us, forth he stretcheth still. Or else it could not be our forces great, So many times should suffer a d••feat. ••or when a lesser Fleet was sent to do A Mischi••fe, it had pow'r enough thereto. But let us take a little further heed; How ill our hopes in forraine parts succeed. The French and Germane Churches, in w••ose ca••e, And in whose persecutions we do share; Have beene afflicted in a grievous wise, And still a heavy but then on them lyes. Gods foes, and theirs, and ours, have cras••ily Combined in a strong confederacy The tents of Edom, and the Ishma'lites, The seed of Agar▪ and the M••abites, With Ashur, and the sons of Lot conspire; With Gebal, Ammon, Amalek, and Tyre. Yea, Gog and Magog; close and open foes, E••'n all those Armies which Gods truth oppose, (And by the Names, here mention••d, figur'd were) Confederated, and resolved are,

To prey upon us. Come, now come, ••ay they, Let's root their Nation, and their Name away. And, if our God be silent over-long, Their strength encreasing, will encrease the wrong His Church endures: our cause will be o'rethrowne, And, they will take Gods houses for their owne. If yet, thou dost not feele thy sickly case, Nor in these forraine glasses view thy face, Look home agen; and I will shew thee there Moe things, that worthy notice will appeare. There, thou shalt find distr••ction in the State; The Commons, and some Nobles, at debate; The Court it selfe disturbed with disunions; Some following others; some their owne opinions; Some striving, ••rom their seats, their mates to thrust; Few knowing in who••e friendship they may trust. There see thou shalt most seeking the disgraces Of o••hers; and in all their fellowes places Men so experienc'd, that they leave to do Those duties, they themselves are call'd unto. There, thou shalt see such foolish imitations; Such complements; such grosse ••issimulations; Such ••ractices; such projects, and devices; Contriving o•• such foolish paradises; Such doing and undoing, what is done; That, 'twill be matter worthy musing on▪ Those Offices, and those high seats of State, (Est••em'd mo••t honorable) are of late Become so sk••ttish; or the men that get them, Such artl••sse riders, that they cannot sit th••m. When liv'd, at once, so many, who did c••ry, (And left disgrac'd) the st••les of S••cretary, Of Chamberlaine, Chiefe-Iustice, Treasurer, Of Lord high Keeper, and Lord Chancel••r?

Of these, and other ••itles, when was s••ene Such chopping and such changing, as hath beene In later yeares? sure, something is amisse, That such uncertainty among us is. Those pers••nages, whose words were heretofore As Oracles; are credited no more Then Cheaters are. Their hand & seale doth stand For nothing, if no other come in band. So void are some advanced to high place, Of common understanding, and of grace, That neither shame, nor losse, which doth befall To other men, can move them ought at all. But, as men markt for Venge••nce, or else sent For thy dishonor, and thy punishment, They dare proceed t•• practise ev'ry sin For which thei•• predecessors shent have bin. Nay, some who for corruption were remov'd To give those place, mi••ht well have beene approv'd Respecting them; if all the peoples cries, From just occa••ion may be thought to rise. Yea▪ they have just••fi••d, and honor done them, Who went before, in having overgone them In doing wrongs. And, in those wrongs they do, They are so p••actised, and hardned to, That no examples, or faire warning shall Ta••e place ('tis thought) till they have ruin'd all. Some Offices are growne so over large For those who undertake them, to discharge, Else, they that have them, so unable are, Or of their duties have so little care, Th••t suiters poo••e have many times attended Whole months together, e're they were befriended, So much, ••o have their humble suits perused. Yet, these, as if they had not else abused

The Common-wealth enough, do often add To those employments which before they had, New Offices; and take so much upon Their feeble shoulders, that no good is done. If thou observest mens communication, Thou heare it shalt so full of desperation, As if they feared God had us forsaken, And, to some other place himselfe ••etaken. But, thou, indeed, his Covenant hast b••oke; His Word distrusted; his Commands forsook; And, aid from Egypt, and from Ashur sought, Whose tru••••lesse f••iendship will availe thee nought. Nay, some there be, that in these dayes of evill, Advise to make atonements with the Devill. For, they doe little better who would call The Turk••, to helpe maintaine the Churches wall. Yea, they who make that Foe our ayd ••ecome, Do save a hou••e, by firing Ch••istendome. The Land appeares, as if ••t rip••ning were For Desolation: and ev'n ev'ry where Most ••en are growne so p••odigally vaine; So greedily pursue they pre••en•• gaine; And, from this pleasant Kingdome have so rent Her woods, her grov••s, and ev'ry ornament, (With••ut all care of pla••ting, or renewing For their Posterities, in times ensuing) As if they either thought, or did foresee, That when they dy'd▪ the world would ended be▪ Or that, before the following generations, This Land should be possest by other Nations. We have not pow'r their counsell to receive, Who for our safeties best advisement give: For, in themselves, such basenesse most retaine, That, all are thought to ayme at private gaine.

And doubtlesse we have many Mountebanks, Who arrogate the profit and the thanks Of others labours; or else seek to crosse Their good designes, to their disgrace and losse. Yea, such extreame corruptions ev'ry where In men of ev'ry quality appeare, That whatsoever reasons may be rendred, To prove that by some courses which are tendred, (To be proceeded in) the common peace Or profit might in future times encrease, And be advanc'd, a million by the yeare: Yet, if but any p••ivate persons feare It may some income•• f••om their ch••sts withdraw, For which they neither Conscience have nor Law: These men (if they attempt it, and be able To give a bribe that may be valuable In any measure) quite shall overthrow That good designment: and not onely so, But these and they that were their instruments Shall purchase him who that designe invents, (For his reward) both infamy and hate▪ And make themselves appeare unto the State Good Patriots; who (being sifted well) Are scarce so honest men as go to hell. Rapt by a sp••rituall Vision, I have seene The thin and crasie wall, that stands betweene Our fight, and their concealed practices, Who have the place of Elders in these dayes: And spying there a hole, I dig••'d into Their se••resies; to see what works they doe. W••ere (not without Gods warrant, and his ayd) Most foule abominations I su••vaid. I saw their Chambers of Imagery, And all those Objects of Idolatry

To which they bow, upon the wals depainted: I saw t••ose toyes ado••ed and besainted: I saw what strange devo••ions there they use; How they in private do the world abuse▪ And from their Censers seemed to arise A cloud which dimm'd the Sacrificers ey••s. There (oh! good God) how many did I see, Who zealous Prelats do appeare to be? How many Statesmen, and how many a one That ou•• high s••ats of Iudgement si••s upon? How many who ••igh•• honest men appeare? In outward show how many draw••ng neere Vnto their graves? how many learned men? How many, that will stoutly now and then M••int••ine an honest cause, to some g••od end, (For ought we k••ow) when they no good ••ntend How many ill-disposed men (oh! God) Who otherwise aff••cted seeme abroad, Beh••ld I there in secret prostituting Th••mselves to breathlesse Idols, and imputing Great pow'r unto them? and how base are those Sometime i•• private, who make goodly showes Of noblest thoughts? Some, to the rising-Sun Directly kneele; s••me, fix their eyes upon The Moone, which from his beams receives her light: Some, stand devoted to the works of Night: Some, deifie their ••ride, and some their Lust: In ca••nall Policy, some put their trust: Some (as a Goddesse) V••ngean••e do emplore: V••••ighteous Mammon, othersome adore: With worldly Honor, some idolatrize; Some other, to their Nets do sacrifise: To Pleasure, many offer their estates; H••ms••lfe to En••y, one man dedicates:

Another makes Vaineglories altars fume, Till all his pa••rimony he consume: A third, to Sloth and Idlenesse doth bow. Before Excesse▪ a fourth doth fall as low: Yea, Horses, Dogs, and Hanks; ev'n Beasts and Fowl••s, Are Idols of their love. Nor hath their Soules Id••lat••iz'd with brutish things alone, But, ev'n with Gold, and Silver, Wood, and Stone. Nor have they only of such things as these, (That reall be) set up vaine images Within their hearts; but, they goe•• further, far, And worship Fictions, which the likenesse are Of nought in heav'n, ea••th, sea, or in the waters Below the earth; but, meere fantasticke matters. And, that by such l••ke Gods, as are their Treasure, Their Honor, their Preferment, and their Pleasure, They may be happy made; what things I pray, To shew their zeale (suppose you) offer they? Ev'n those, respecting which, these gods are vile. For, they do give unto them, otherwhile, Their naturall rest and sleep; sometime their heal••h▪ Sometime what's due to God they take by stealth, To waste upon their Mawmets; and of these, One ostred is, another to appease. Their beautious daughters some of them have given To Moloch: other some their wives have driven To passe the fire: great numbers make oblations Of all their friends, to those Abominations. To serve them, some, their Country set to sale; Her love, her wealth, her honor, peace, and all. Yea some, ev'n their owne lives to losse expose, (Their consciences, and soules) for love of those; And (lest unto a reprobated sense) With Gods and Natures Lawes they can dispence••

Of these, a Vision did appeare to me: Iudge Readers, whe••her true or false it be. If no such doings be, my word•• contemne, And let this Vision passe but for a Dreame. If really thou find it to be so, Then think oh! Britaine, what thou haft to do. But, thinke it seriously: for, things that are In foulest plight, wi••l often f••ire appeare. Bel••eve not all that shall reported be; But, prove and search; and trust what thou dost see. The Land is over-spred with wickednesse; Y••t, no man will himselfe in fault confesse. Men daily talke how bad the times are growne, Yet, few men see an error of their owne. The Country is distressed many wayes, And on the Cities pride, the blame it layes. The City finds her trading salleth short, And thinks the cause thereof is in the Court, The Court complaines, and railes as much agen, Against the Farmer, and the Citizen. Our Parliaments imputed have of late, Our troubles to some errors in the State. The State off••nded is, and discontent With some proceedings in the Parliament. Our Court Divin••s, protest the Lawyers stand So much upon the Customes of the Land, (The Lawes and ancient Freedomes, which belong Vnto the Commons) that, the King they wrong. The People vow, the Prelats flatter so To get preferment, that they will undo Both Church and Common-wealth; & some conceive, If we their State-Divinity beleeve, It will of ev'ry priviledge bereave us, And no more Law, but Will and Pleasure leave us.

And, as the Iewes, to save their Place, and Name, Did that, which losse of both of them became: So, thought it is, th••t if our Prelats fall, The way, they seek to stand, effect it shall. The followers of Arminius some revile, As troublers of the Churches of this Ile. Some think the doubts & questions they have moved Shal make the Truth more known, & more approved. The Papist sayes, that we afflicted are, Because their superstitions banisht were. Som•• Protestants beleeve we fare the worse For fav'ring them; and that they bring a curse Vpon the La••d. Some others, do accuse The Separatists, and those men who refuse Vnto this Churches orders to conforme. They, on the other side, as much do storme Against our Discipline and Hierarchy, As parts of Antichristian-heresie. And though we all are nought; yet, we do all Each other censure, persecute, miscall, And so c••ndemne; as if we had no such Infirmities, as we in others touch. But, as her vertue may be ne're the more, Who first, in scoulding, calls her neighbour whore, So, he that soone••t check abuses can, (At all times) proveth not the holiest man. Ev'n I, that in whole Volumes, do complaine Against those faults, which in my times do raigne; May be a Villane, when all that is done, If other signes of goodnesse I have none. But, why speak I of Symptomes, when all see Thy Sicknesse, to be evident on thee? Thou hast a fearfull trembling at thy heart, And, a quotidian Fever shakes each part.

Thine eyes do see thy flesh doth fall away; The lovely colour of thy cheeks decay. Thy veines grow empty, which did lately swell; Those parts are naked, that were clothed well: Those limbs are weakned, that e're while were strong; And into gronings thou hast chang'd thy Song. Yea, thou maist feele (unlesse that sense be dead) A paine betweene thy Body, and thy H••ad. The Staves of God, of which we read it spoken By Zachary▪ are bruized, if not broken. The Staffe of Bands (or Vnion) hath some cracks: And, that of Beautie now so little lacks Of being shiv••r'd; tha•• thou art almost The scorne of Christendome: and hast nigh lost Thy form••r glory. Neither art thou ••oly Despised and dishonor'd, by thy folly; But in those mischiefes which thy sin•• procure, Thy Prince a disadvantage doth endure. His ver••ues are repulsed from that height O•• honour, whereunto ascend they might, Wert thou lesse wicked. He, whom as our eyes We seemed (as but yesterday) to prize; He, for whose absence we so much complained, And wept, and pray'd, and vow'd, whilst he remain••d Divided from u••: and at ••hose returne We did so many ••iles to ashes burne: Ev'n he, hath not received that content From us, which he expected, and we meant. Some spirit of Dissention loos••d hath bin; Some sparks of Discord have beene hurled in, And blowne among us; so that he and wee Not so well pleased in each other be As both desire. And should this flame encrease, God knowes how much it would offend our peace.

Thy Body, England, representative, Vnable was prevention to contrive For such a mischiefe; neither dare men say (Although they could) on whom the blame to lay. Some, doe accuse the Parliament; some blame Another Facti••n; and, I doubtfull am, Some rashly taxe the King: but, to provide A Iudge, by whom such parties may be tride, Who knowes (I pray?) or what is he that can Such points as these, without reproving scan? Nay, where is he, from faction or from feare So free, that (though he knew it needfull were) He da••es pre••ume in any publike wise, So much as mention such State-mysteries? Yet, sure, ••hey must be mention'd; and they may, By those who know good Reason, and the Way Of so unfolding them, that no offence Be given; whatsoe're be taken ••hence. And therefore, though such men who cannot see What calling at this present warrants me, Or, by what spirit I am urged to Those actions which I undertake to do; Though such conjecture may, that I presume Too far, and on my selfe too much assume, (Beyond my place) yet, in ••y selfe secure, I'le put my selfe their censure to endure; And all that perill, which the••e coward times Suppose may follow my truth-speaking Rime••. Direct thou so, oh God! my hand by thine, That I in this may draw an eaven Line. For, no advice from carnall wits I crave: Nor any Counsellor, but thee, to have. My Prince and Country▪ though perhaps I be Not much to them; a••e both most deare to me.

And may I perish, if to save my life I woul•• betwixt that couple nourish strife. Or if for one of them I that would say, Which might from toth••rs due take ought away. If God direct me not, I may do ill In this performance; but, I know, to will And to desire their welfare, is from heaven (Ev'n by his grace) to me already given. I may perchance in what I best intend, Have neither King nor People to my friend; Yet will I speake my mind to profit them, Though both should, for my labour me condemne. For, from all other ends and hopes I'me free, S••••e those, which in an honest man should be. If that which profits e••th••r I propose, They both shall gaine, and neither party lose. But, if that harme shall by my words be done▪ I'le weigh them so, it shall be mine alone. My censure I will give in things, which none Have da••'d to passe a publike Iudgement on. Come, marke me, you who thinke I now begin To tread a path which I shall stumble in: And, if you see, what justly you may che••k; Trip up my heeles, and make me breake my neck•• Although we heed not▪ or else will not see, Those Maladies which daily growing be; I find (and I doe much compassionate What I behold) a rupture in the State, Of this great Body. Lamed are the Feet; The Legs, that sho••ld support her, scarcely meet, For that gr••at structure which upon them stands▪ The Sine•••• are enfeebled; and, the Hands Vnfit for action; deafned are her Eares, And what concerne•• her most, she hardly heares.

Her Eyes (which are her wa••chmen) are become Halfe blind▪ her Tongue is almost waxen dumb: It cannot speak the truth for her owne wealth: Her Nose, that should distinguish, for her health▪ Twixt things that wholsome, and unwholsome were, Hath lost that faculty: her Pulses are Vncertaine: her Digestion is not good; And, that hath filled her with tainted Blood: Her Iudgement, and her Common-sense so failes, That she▪ her selfe perceives not what she ayles: Her Spleene is stop••; and, ••hose obstructions make Bad fumings, which have caus'd her Head to ake. And He (alas) is bound about the Crowne With cares, that make him bow his forehead dow••e. Thou art this Body, England, and thy Head Is our dread Sov'raigne. The distemper bred Betwixt you two, from one of you doth flow; And which it is, I purpose here to show. Be bold to heare me Readers; for, in season I speake; and here's not fellony, nor treason. In this that followes; to have pow'r or aime To touch the Lords Anointed, I disclaime. I have no warrant; neither know I ought, To reprehend him for, although I mought. And, they of my upright••••sse judge amisse, Who think I flatter, in affirming this. For, as my Princes fault•• I may not blaze▪ So, I am also bound (as there is cause) To justifie what vertues I doe heare To be in him, or, see in him appeare. The gen'rall faults of others, mine owne eyes Have seene; and that's enough to warrantize A generall reproofe: but never, yet, In him beheld I, what did unbefit

Hi•• pe••son or his place: much have I seene, That, rather, hath an honor to him beene. And, whatsoe're shall mutter'd be of ••ome, There reignes not any King in Christendome, Of whom there was divulg'd a better fame; Or, whom a royall Throne so well became. And, what is lately done, to blot the story Of his desert? or to deface his glory? Or wherewithall can any tongue tradu••e His actions, which admitteth not excuse? What if his people have expected more (From hopes, by them conceived heretofore) Then yet succeeds? what can from thence redound To prove his Vertues or his wayes unsound? Why may not this effect arise from them That so suspect, much rather then from him? As God long since unto those Iewes did say, (Who judged him unequall in his way) So say I England; is thy Sov'raignes path Vnequall? or is't rather thine which hath Such indirectnesse? wherefore may not all Which is amisse, by thine owne fault befall? Why may not (England) a diseasednesse (Occasioned by thy unrighteousnesse) Make him unpleasing in his course to thee, Whom thou hast praised? and whose graces be The same they were? thou knowest many a one, In bodily diseases, thus hath done. Those meats and drinks, that are both sweet & pure, They can nor truly rellish, nor endure. We seldome see the Bodies torment bred By ought which first ariseth in the Head; But, oftentimes we feele both head and eyes Diseas'd by fumes which from the Body rise.

And though downe from the head there may distill Some humour, otherwhile, which maketh ••ll The lower parts; yet, that first vapor'd from Those crudities and noysome fumes whi••h come From ••ll digestion; or, from stoppages Which are in our inferior passages. 'Tis thus in nat'rall Bodies; an•• the like May be observ'd in Bodies p••litick. The head and body both are evill pleas'd, When any part of eithe•• is diseas'd: But, their distempers, wo••se or easier are Sustained, as their fi••st occasions were. When Lungs or Liver doth defective grow By ought within it selfe, it paines not so The head, as when from thence doth also fall Those ••hew••••es and humors, that by tickling shall Occasion coughs and strainings, to distend The passages, as if each part would rend. Nor is the Stomack so distempered, By any hurt or bruise upon the Head, (By its owne fault receiv'd) as when it ake••h, Through fumings, which from parts below it taketh. So fares it with a People and their King. Ev'n all their e••rors, griefes and cares doe bring Vpon each other so, that what the one Misdoeth in, doth b••ing some smart upon The other party▪ But, they shall not be Afflicted with it, both in one degree. For, if the Princes oversight or sin, Of any publike Plague first cause hath bin, The greatest mischiefe will at last be his. And, if the Subjects have so done amisse, That Vengeance followes it, the King may g••ieve; But, they shall be consumed, I beleeve:

And, that for each ones personall defect The greatest harme will on himselfe reflect: What then to be performed is remaining, But, that we leave repining, and complaining On one another, and our labours bend, Our selves, as much as may be, to amend? Let ev'ry one examine well his way, And, for himselfe, and for all others pray. For, this is far more likely to redresse The present mischiefes, then o••r frowardnesse. The party that hath innocency, shall Be sure to stand, though all about him fall. And, if we all perve••sly wicked prove, We sh••ll have all, one judgement from above. If in thy King (oh Britaine) ought amisse Appeares to be; 'twixt God and him it is. Of him he shall be judged. What to thee Pertaineth it, his censurer to be? If thou shalt suffer with him; thy offence Deserv'd it; and nought else ••ut penitence Becomes thy practice; neither shall there ought That's wrong, by other meanes, to right be brought. Thy generall voice, but newly, did confesse In him much vertue, and much hopefulnesse; And, he so late assum'd his Diadem, That there hath scarce beene time enough for him Those evils to performe, that may in••erre A generall mischiefe. Neither, do I heare Of ought, as yet, which thou to him canst lay, But that he doth to thee thy will den••y. Or with a gentle stoutnesse claime, and strive, For what he thinks his just Prerogative. And why, I prethee, may not all this flow From some corruptions which in thee do grow

Without his fault? why may not, for thy crimes Some instruments of Sathan, in these times, Be suffred to obscure from him a while The truth of things? and his beleefe beguile, With vert'uos showes, discreet and good pretences, To plague and punish thee for thy offences? Why may not God (and justly too) permit Some Sycophant, or cunning hypocrite, For thy hypocrisies, to steale away His heart from thee? and goodly colours lay On projects which may cause him to undo thee, And think that he no wrong hath done unto thee? Nay, wherefore may not some thy King advise, To that which seems to wrong thy liberties, Yet in themselves be honest men, and just, Who have abused been by those they trust? Thy wickednesse deserves it: and that he Who in himselfe is good, should bring to thee No profit by his goodnesse, but augment Thy sorrowes, till thy follies thou repent? For, what is in it selfe from evill free, Is evill made, to those that evill be. Why may it not be possible, that thou Demandedst what he might not well allow Without dishonor. Or, if all were right Which thou requiredst; yet the manner might Distast him? Or, who certaine is, but some (Pretending publike grievances) might come With private spleene and m••lice, to pursue Those faults in others, which their conscience knew That they themselves were guilty of; and had No peace with God by true repentance mnde? If so it were, I doe admire the lesse That thy petitions had a•• ill successe.

If any single man hath ought misdone, It is so little while since he begun His being to receive; that, in respect O•• thine, his errors could small harme effect. But, t••ou hast heap'd up sin for many yeares; And, thy exceeding guiltinesse appeares, With so much evidence, that ev'ry man Of some particular faul••s accuse thee can; And, openly r••prove thee, to thy face, For evils, done in ev'ry time, and place. Then, blame not him, if God hath falsifi'd Some hopes, of late, or to thy griefe, denide That refo••mation, which thou didst require; And add••d (in the stead of thy desire) New grievances. Nor too too bitterly Pursue those errors of infirmity, Which were by others, heretofore commi••••ed: But, let all past offences be remitted. If thou perceive but hope of reformation, Goe offer up to God, for thy Oblation, A true forgivenesse of their injuries, Who heretofore have wrong'd thy Liberties. And, do not this in policy (altho The times now present may require it so:) But, so forgive, as by the God of heaven Thou dost desire thy sins may be forgiven: For, by thy faults, dishonor'd more is he, Then thou by ••hei••s that have offended thee. And if to them thou t••ue compassion showest, God will not urge, perhaps, the debt thou ow••st. Of Reformation thou dost show great zeale; But, some corruption maist thou not conceale That mars the bl••ssing? A•••• thou ••ure thou hast No just occasion given to distast

Thy King? Doe thy complainings all, intend The publike welfare, without private end? And, in preferring them, didst thou commit No errors; nor no decencies forget? I will not say thou didst; but I do feare, That they who wisest are, in some things erre▪ Forgive me thou high Court of Parliament, If I shall utter what will discontent Thy disunited members, who have sate In former times, grave matters to debate. For, though I will not arrogate the wit To teach so great a Counsell what is fit; Nor censure any Act which thou hast done, When all thy parts have joyned been in one. Yet, I will take upon me to reprove Their private errors, who in courses move Repugnant to thy Iustice; and oft be The cause of much dishonour unto thee. For, none (thogh thou art wise) can wrōg thee ought To think, that thou hast members may be taught. And, as in pitched Battels, when by-standers Do apprehend mistakings in Commanders, (As oft they do) 'twere better they should say What they observe, then let them lose the day: So also (though I may be thought too bold) 'Twere fitter my experience should be told, Then that a publike mischiefe should ensue, And I, in times to come, my silence ••ue. For, some (no doubt) will well approve the same, Though other some will think I was to blame: Yea, that which I will speak shall help, perchance, (In times to come) thine honor to advance: For, I will speak no more then what is due, And, what my Conscience bids my Pen to shew.

Thou art an honor'd Counsell: but upon thee Such blots are cast, and so much wrong is done thee, (By some, who sca••cely nat'rall members be) That, as this Kingdome represents in thee Her Body; so, thou dost become likewise A representment of her Vanities. Yea, when at first, to be, thou dost begin, Thou art conceived, and made up in sin. For, to thy Ho••se of Commons, whither none Thou shouldst admit, excepting, such a one Whose life or knowledge that respect may draw, Which doth become the Maker of a Law; Too oft el••cted are, in stead of those, The rich, and them that make the gre••test showes Of youthful gallantry; and, otherwhile, The very'st humorists of all this Ile. When choice was of thy Members to be made, Th••ir ent••ances, but little signe have had Of prosperous ends: for, they that should have past A f••ee election, have their voices cast By force, constraint, or for some by-respect, On those, whom others, for their ends elect. There be in Court, and bord••ing round about Thy Burroughs, many wiser men, no doubt, Then some that in Elections have their voice; And, by their ayd, there is sometime a choice Of good and able men: yet, best it were, That all men le••t to their just freedomes were. For, they to whom the Providence of heaven, The right of chusing Burgesses hath given; Are also by that providence (how wise Or foolish e're they seeme in others eyes) In making of their choices so directed, As best may serve to make his will e••tected.

And, though the same shall just as well be done By meanes of them who lawlesse courses run, Yet, not for their advantage, to the best, Who from their proper motions such things wrest. Why did the King from his Prerogative, To any place a priviledge derive, But, that they might enjoy them? And, I pray, What conscienc•• tyes the People to obey Those Lawes or Acts, in Parl'ament concluded, By those that have by force or fraud intruded? What reason is it that a stranger should Entreat me to commit my best Freehold, To be dispos'd of, by some one, whom he Shall (for I know not what) commend to me? What man but he that modes••y doth want, Can be so impudently arrogant, To sue by f••iend••, or lett••rs, pl••ce to take In such a Counsell▪ yea, and Lawes to make? As if, because he hath a little pelfe, He ther••fore might some Solon think himselfe, Or some Licurgus? Or, as if he thought The Common-wealth would surely come to nought, Vnlesse his knowledge, or his vertues, were Elected, to be exercised there. Whereas (God knowes) too many do aspire To such employments, either through desire To shew their wits; to gaine some vaine repute, Themselves, or friends to furthe•• in some sute; To keep off Creditors; or else, perchance, To entertaine their curious igno••ance With mysteries of State. Beleeve it, those Whose modesty forbids them to expose Themselves to be elected, I think far More apt for such employments then they are

That seeke them: a••d 'tis fittest that in all Such places, men should sit till they do call (Of their owne will) to whom the choice pertaines▪ For, those God sends; and unto them he daignes Fit graces for the worke. The other, hast (Mov'd by their owne ambition) to be plac'd In that great Couns••ll, with a mind corrupt; Which doth dishonor oft, and interrupt Their best p••oceed••ngs. And from hence it is, So many things among us are amisse. Hence is it, so much time is spent about The searching of undue elections out. Hence is it, that in stead of persons grave, Such numbers of our Burgesses we have In those Assembl••es, who come ••uffling ••n With habits which have far more fitting bin For Theat••rs; then for the reverent And sacred presence of a Parliament. Thence is it that so many Children are Elected to have place and voices there; Yea chosen Counsellers, when hardly past Their Tutors rod: beleeve me, this is hast. Although it might excused be, if some Youngmen should thither for experience come: It is not tollerable, nathelesse, That many should admitted be: much lesse Those no••age Youths, to whom our Lawes deny A pow'r in things that smaller trust imply. Hence is it that sometime the very noises Arising from the multitude of voices, Foiles Reason. This maintaineth also factions, And makes in plainest ma••ters great distractions. T••is, to those meetings much disturbance bring, And doth occasion many foolish things.

Thence is it, also, we admit of those, In making Lawes, who either do oppose Proceedings legall; or, protections g••ve To them that in contempt as Outlawes live▪ I hold it not amisse, that they who spend Their time the publike bus'nesse ••o attend, Should have their servants from arestings free, Whilst they themselves in those employments be; Nor is it worthy blame, if they protect Poore Debtors, who endeavoring to ef••ect Their Creditors contents (as they are able) And using time (in courses warrantable) For such a purpose; or else to prefer Complaints against some vile extortioner: Or to such ends. But, when they doe by dozen•• (To ev'ry p••odigall, that cheats and cozen••) Vouchsafe protections; yea, to those that are Meere strangers too; it worth reproving were: And, them who do it, I suppose unfit In places of Lawgiver•• there to sit. M••reover, an Election out of order, Doth other inconvenie••t matters further, Not mention'd yet. The party that is chose By suit, or ill-got favour, seldome goes Against his Chusers, if it chance that ought In opposition unto them be brought: Whereas▪ in such a case, each man is bound To be as if new risen from the ground He should not know his father, nor the son Of his owne body: no nor any one O•• all his neere acquaintance, or his kin; Nor any that his friend or foe hath bin. But, fixe his eye upon the cause alone, And, do as that requireth to be done.

Had this beene practis'd, many a good conclusion Had follow'd more then did. Yea, much confusion, Much needlesse cost and pains, had beene prevented; And, many had not gone so di••contented To their owne homes, when they with hearts o're∣grieved, Besought the Parli••ment, to be relieved. For, if the••r causes (which but right had bin) Their trials had receiv'd, as they came in; If no man might, by savour of a friend, Prefer new suits, b••fore all those have end Which entred are before; poore Sui••ers might Have hope of sooner compassing their right. Yea, spare much cost, and many months attending, To b••ing their endlesse bus'nesse to an ending. For then, what day, or week, or month, at least, They should be heard, it partly might be gu••st. But p••ivate friendship showne at such a season, To work meere private ends, opposeth reason. It doth put off and on; and so employ One friend, anothers friendship to destroy, (And, so delayeth him in his just suit, Who is of such acquaintance destitute) That, many a one whose cause deserv'd regard, Is quite undone, before he can be heard. Fo••, to attend three Sessions on a row, With Lawyers often feed, the cause to show, (Perhaps, a ••undred miles, or two, from home, With witnesses which on his charge do come As far as he) may make a rich man poore, And, homeward, beg his bread from doore to doore. There also were (and they who came unsent, Are likely to be they that now are meant) Vnwise, and undiscreet ones, mixt among Ou•• Parliaments, who did those meetings wrong▪

By controverting of Religion there, And moving questions that improper are To that Assembly. For, there is provided A Synode, whe••ein ought to be decided Such matters; and what they determine shall, Th•• Parli••ment may ratifie; and call, And censure those, who either shall proceed To crosse or vilifie what is dec••eed. But, we may blush to see, how much amisse Some stretch the Parliamentall pow'r in this. How, they doe cause the weake offence to take▪ And, say our Parliaments Religions make; How much the due proceedings hindred are, By spending time in such like mat••ers, there, To that high Courts disturbance; and how muc•• The Common-wealth is damnifi'd by such Impertinent, and over-busie wits, Who know not what the Parliament befits, And what the Synod. But, mistake not me, I doe not think the Parliament should be Restrained so, as not to shew her care That true Religion be maintained here. Far be it from my heart: I wish they should Religion to their utmost pow'r uphold: But, my de••ire is also, that ••••ey further The Church affaires, in their owne place and order: And that they would be pleas'd (as hitherto They g••avely were accustomed to doe) To check their busie Novices, who breed Much scandall when unwisely they proceed. For, though some threaten fearfull things to those Who dare a Parliamentall p••w'r enclose Within a Bound: yea, though some talking things 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as if they might make and unmake Kings;

Coine new Religions; yea, and Gods, for need; Yet, I shall never entertaine their creed, Nor feare, when good occasion I have got, To say what may be done, or what may not. For, they who make that pow'r or more or lesse Then ought to be, doe equally transgresse. This, many Members, a•• some former sitting, Not heeding, or else ove••much fo••getting, Have scandaliz'd that Meeting; and made bold To run a great way fu••ther then they should In their discourse (if not when they have sate, Where they did matters publikely debate. Yea, 'tis the property of most of those, Who by their owne procurement have beene chose For Knights or Burgesses, to stand it out More boldly▪ and more obstinately slout, For some fond custome, then for what befitteth His Iustice who in such a Counsell sitteth. Of these they be, whose indiscretions bring So many discontentments to the King, Through want of more exp••rience, or sound reason; Or by t••eir urging matters out of season: And, such as these you easily may know From wiser men. For, thus themselves they show. If while a Session lasteth you shall chance To meet them, where themselves they do advance In some discourse; assure your selves ye may, By their perpetu••ll ta••ling, which are they. For, they ingr••sse the talke, w••ere e're th••y come, And speak, as if their lips nought flowed from But Apothegmes; or, as if each cause They undertook should passe among the Lawes. And, what another sayes, th••y'll ••o condemne. As i•• a whole Committee spake in them.

In my poore judgement it doth much concerne Our Parliament••, that those their members learne Mo••e silence: for, no sooner come they out▪ But ev'rywhere they p••ate, and spread about The secrets of the House; and blast them so By their rank breathings, e're they ripe can grow▪ That oft they perish, or are shaken from The tree, before the gathering time is come. In this, our Peeres I have not quite excused▪ Nor said, that no ill customes they have used In this great Meeting: For, the best have some Blameworthy things (no doubt) if all should com•• To bide the censure: and, among the rest, The voice by P••oxi▪ hold I not the least. For, unto me, it doth unfit appeare, To give my voice, untill the cause I heare. Who knowes the hearts of other men so wel••▪ Or, of their judgements, who the depth can tell, So punctually, that (whatsoever shall Proposed be) he trust them should in all? Our owne affaires (though wisdome sayeth nay) To other men we absolutely m••y Refer to be determin'd on: but, that Which doth concerne the gen••rall estate▪ It were injustice, and a thing unfit, To others, at adventure, to ••ommit. For, most Selfe-lovers are; and we do know▪ That many p••blike inju••ies may flow From this one root; I will not say they do, Although I think I might affirme that too. Thi•• Custome seemeth ancient: and (if tol•• The truth may be) as evill as ti•• old: And▪ from what cause soe're it first did flow, It wa•• n••t fr••m the firs•• beginning so

Nor, should old presidents (growne out of season) Be follow'd, for their age, by m••n of reason: Nor will this custome last, p••rchance, when they Who may remove it, well the same shall weigh••. For, I perce••ve it usefu••l to no end, But indirect proceedings to bef••iend. And, they whose courses are m••st indirect, Are they that will such ••ustomes most prot••ct. If this▪ and other errors yet unnamed, Had well beene heeded: some had more bin blamed, Some lesse: some highly praised, who have seemed Vnactive Mem••••rs, and beene disest••emed. Yea, thou hadst ••••lt most grievances amended ••'re this; and many troubles had beene ended. But now (what faults soe're concurring be In others) those defects that were in thee Oh! England, were sufficient to procure Those perturbations thou dost yet endure. Thy ove••-soone fo••getfulnesse of that G••eat Pestilence affli••ting thee of late; Thy thanklesnesse for Gods admired ceasing That strong contagion▪ and the new encreasing Of thy transgressions, since his mercy daigned; Deserveth mo••e then thou hast yet sustained. Yea, that which thou wert overseene in there, W••ere thy Assembli••s cong••egated were To ••ectifi•• thy selfe; ev'n th••t, alas! Suffi••ient to deserve these t••oubles was. And therefore, w••ensoe're thy Soveraigne shall Be pleased, for thy helpe againe to call In such a publike Meeting; let, in God, Thy Knights and ••urgesses (now spred ab••oad) Collect••d be: and, let not any f••om Thy B••rroughes, by und••e election come▪

Let Lords and Ladies letters, to such ends Move none▪ but only, witnesse who are friends To base corruption. Let their suits be scorn'd, And, no respect unto them be retu••n'd. Le•• ev'ry one of those that shall be sent To represent thy Body; represent Thy true repentance. Let them lay aside Prejudicate opinion••, faction, pride; And (to their utmost) in t••emselves restraine, All those enormities which they retaine: That, setting to their owne desires, a law, They may the more enabled be to draw A Rule for others. Let all they that come To serve the Publike, leave such thoughts at home As meerly private are: for, in them lu••ks An enmitie to all good publike works. Let none propose in such a Congregation, What is not first prepar'd by consulta••ion, For otherwhile, their pretious houres are spent About a needlesse tr••fling argument: And, oft, from matters of least moment spring Those disagreeings which great harme ••o bring. What their forefathers unto them did leave, Let them not suffer any to bereave Their children of. For, they m••y that deny Ev'n to th••ir King, provided, loyally They do it, in ••esi••ting his demands By legall Pleading••; not by force of hands. It ••s as Naboths Vineyard; and, to live He merits not, who doth repine to give His life to save it: yea, accu••st is be That would not zealous in those causes be. Let them, therefore their ancient rights maintain, By all just meanes: and let them yeeld againe,

The royall dues. For, those things prosper not, Which are, amisse, ••••om God, or Cesar got. All wrongs shall be revenged: but none brings Such vengeance, as the wrong to God, and Kings. If but in word alone (nay, but in thought) We have against our Prince committed ought Which is disloyall, hid it shall no•• lye, But, be revealed by a winged-spy. Let▪ therefore, all just freedomes of the Land, That can be proved, ••orth in publike stand; And not in old Records (halfe smother'd lye) In danger to be lost by casualty; Or else embezel'd; or, by wormes and dust To be devoured: or, by those we trust. Let us not whisper them, as men that feare The claiming of their due, high treason w••re. Nor let us (as we doe) in co••ners prate, As if the Sov'raigne power, or the State Encroacht injuriously; and so defame The government: disgrace the royall Name; And nourish, by degrees, an evill spirit, That us of all our peace will dis-inherit. But, let us, if we see our ancient right Inf••inged; bring our grievances to light, Speak loyally, and orderly, and plaine, Those things which for our owne we can maintaine: So, Kings the truth perceiving; and their ends Who did abuse their trust, will make amends ••or all our suffrings: giv•• our foes their doome; And make us more secure for times to come. But, bring not, when ye come to plead with Kings, (Against their claimes) some bare conjectu••ings: For, what thou hast no ce••taine evidence To be thy right: the right is in the Prince.

It is a royalty, to Mona••ks due, But, if for any Freedome, ye can shew A Law enacted; or, a Custome old, Or Presidents, that have not beene controld (As often as produced) ye may lay Your clai••e; and keep it, ev'ry lawfull way. Each President, and every Demand Which doth from time to time opposed stand, Concludeth nothing This, let ••ach man heed, And with a conscionable awe p••oceed In such affai••es Let pure humility, True piety, true love, and charity, Be brought along And, when all these ••e bring, Then goe with l••yalty and m••et your King, In his and your affaire•• without mistrust: And then (as certainly as God is just) In ev'ry due req••est ye shall prevaile, O••, gaine some g••eat advantage, if ye faile. Desire of God to teach and guide you so, That in this narrow path you straight may go. If you would have a King be just to you, Be ye upright, and to his honor true. Yeeld first to him, i•• ev'ry fit demand, And, long capitulating do not stand, On what you may determinate with speed. Because perhaps, delay may danger breed. Af••ord him his requests, unto you•• pow'rs; Be his the fault, if he denieth yours; Or if miscounselled he shall re••u••re What shall his weale oppu••ne, or your desire. Goe cast your selves before him with submission; Present him with petition on petition. With one accord, and with a fea••lesse face, Informe him how much hindrance, or disgrace,

Or danger to the Land there may accrue, If He your loyall counsell shall eschew. For, God because his lawes we disobey, Vs at our Soveraignes feet doth meane to lay, To humble us a while. If we repent, To all our loyall suits he will assent. If otherwise; God will give up this Land, Our lives and freedomes all into his hand. Go offer, while to offer you are free; And what you give him, shall peace-offrings be; If that which for atonement you provide, With love and penitence be sanctifide. The world ag••inst our State doth now conspire; Intestine dangers also, doe require That we in concord should united be, And to supply the Kingdomes wants agree. Lest while we st••ive, and fondly froward grow, We be surprised by our common foe. Vnwise is he that in a dangerous place Doth stay to wash a spot out of his face, When Outlawes he approaching heares, that may His body wound, or take his head away. If I should heare a Lyon neare me roare, I'de arme my selfe, though I with wounds were sore, And what I had not leasure then to cure, Would seek to heale, when I of life were sure. In times of trouble all must look for crosses; And they must ••eare, who cannot shift their losses▪ There may be smart by what we s••ffer shall; But, better smart, then not to be at all. When I do think a blow my head may harme, I'le ward it off although it break mine arme; For, though my arme be lost, yet I may l••ve; But, on my head, a blow my death may give.

I am not so besotted, as to think, We ought to give the wanton pall at drink, Vntill the head be giddy, (left it may Bring all the body head••ong to decay) Nor praise I them that are so over-wise, To spare what shall be need••ull to suffise The gen'rall want (although to needlesse ends, Some private h••nd, the publike wealth dispends) This, only, is the scope of my petition, That all be done with love, and with discretion. For, we must understand, that m••ny things Which are not just in us, are just in Kings; And, that it is a kind ••f trait' rousnesse, To give them more then due, as well as lesse. They, who deny the King free pow'r to do What his Republikes weale conduceth to, Because some Law ga••nsayes; ev'n those deprive Their Sov'raigne of a due prerogative; Since, for the common good, it just may be, That some injustice may be done to me, Or any few. Moreover, men that say Kings may do more, then of true right they may, And that no law doth bound them; make a King And him that is a Tyrant, all one thing. In my opinion, these men are like those Who in sweet meats, a poison do enclose That kils a twelvemonths after. Tis as tho We should affirme, that God may evill do If so he please. It is a needlesse pow'r That serves for nothing, but to help devoure The owner. Yea, it is as if we ••hould Prepare our f••iend all instruments we could, Wherewith if he should sick, or foolish grow, He might have meanes himselfe to overthrow.

And they who to themselves this pow'r do take, Do silken halters, and gilt ponyards make For their owne throa••s: or, Nero-like to kill Themselves, with poisons, golden viols fill. For, though a ri••hteous King will never stray From what is just (though none with hold him may) Because he to himselfe becomes a L••w; Yet, vicious Princes, thence, occas••on draw To perpetrate that Act which them d••prives, O•• kingdomes, lives, and all prerogatives. And they that were as wise as Solomon, Or as vpright as David, being gone, May leave a son or grandchild, as did they Whose wilfulnesse shall cast t••n Tribes away. And, then, their trait••rous couns••ll curse he will, Who told him, he had pow'r of doing ill. For, though such Couns••llors may think they doe Their Sov'raignes honor, and much pleasure too, In over straining their Prerogatives; Yet are they to their Honor, States and Lives, Egregious tra••tors; since a plot they lay, Whereby thei•• Princes shall themselves betray To th••ir owne follies (if they vicious grow) Yea, by this meanes they l••nd a pois••ned blow To King, and Realme; which while the traitors live, Will ea••e to some Impos••ume seeme to give, Or cure a wart, upon the body bred, And, fester to the heart when they are dead. Abhor ye these; and do not favour th••se That would their King mor•• n••rrowly enclose Th••n shall be honora••le, or befits His Majesty that as God's Viceroy fits. When he compelled by necessities, Requireth of his people due supplies.

They must be had: although some oversight, Forepast, may make it seeme to wrong the right And freedomes of the Land▪ We are not bound To keep a Priviled••e, that shall confound Both us and all our L••berties. They have No blame, tha•• yeeld up what they cannot save Without a greater losse: nay, wise is he That serves on•• day, to be for ever free. Your Wisdomes may, at ease, a course invent To ple••se the King yet make no president To future tim••s, from whence there shall arise Infringement of our lawfull Liberties; Or to our Cause reproach: an••, to be taught You need not, ••f together you were brought, According to the freedome of e••ection: For, no man then would need my poore direction. But, th••re shall full be some th••t will in••rude, And I for their instruction, am thus rude. Some cry, The Land is poore, and cannot give. Tis poore indeed: and yet I do beleeve Few Kingdomes are so rich. ••is poore become, Respecting that innumerable sum O•• our arrear'd Repen••ance, yet u••paid. Tis poore, if all our vertue should be weigh'd With what is wanting: or, if we compare Ou•• Worthies, living now, with such as were. Tis poore, if we on those r••fl••ct our eyes, On whom the labour of this K••n••dome lies: Those people, whom our great and wealthy ones Have rackt, opprest, and eaten to the bones, To fatten and ado••ne their carkesses; The Land (I must confesse) is poore in these. Nay, if we should consider, what a rate The richer sort among us liveth at;

How many needlesse wayes they do enlarge (Without all temperance) their yearly charge: And how each one his humor to enjoy, Doth emulate his friend in ev'ry toy. Or, were it heeded well, how out of measure Some wast their fortunes on a wicked pleasure; Ev'n (otherwhile) for that which for a bubble Of Mirth, doth bring them halfe an ages trouble: Or, were it well observ'd what beggeries, What shifts, what basenesse, what necessities, This brings on those that richest men are thought: What costly suits and troubles it hath brought; And how indebted and ingag••d they stand To one another quite throughout the Land. These things, I say, consider••d, well we may Affirme this Realme is beggerly: and say The rich are poore. But, he this Ile belies Who taxeth it of other poverties. Yes, he or blinded is, or maketh l••sse (To Gods dishonor) out of wilfulnesse, His matchlesse bounty. What one Kingdome, yeelds Th••ough Europe, in barnes, granards, stalls, and fields, Of Cattell and of Corne, in ev'ry kind, More plenty, then among us, yet we find? Where do their Gardens or their Orchards beare, More fruits, for food or physi•••• then are here? Our Sheep, fine wools enough afford us do, To cloath ou••selves, and other nations too. And, by their golden fleeces bring in sums As la••ge, as any that from India comes. Our B••es do gathe•• honey from our flowers; Our Meads are fruitfull by our Aprill showers. Within the Land rich Minerals do lie; Our Ayre hath Fowle, in great variety.

In stately Pallaces, we doe abound; With many Townes▪ our hills and dales are crown'd: In woods, and groves, this Kingdome hath excelled, (And, some yet stand though most of thē are felled) Faire Ports we have▪ sweet Rivers, and the Sea•• Surrounding us; and wealth comes in by these. Our fruitfull waters fish enough doth yeeld To feed us, though we had nor Grove, nor Field. Yea did we riot lesse, and labour more, Our Fish alone, would feed us all at shore. If yet, this Kin••dome needy seeme to be, Goe looke upon her Cities, and there see And marke, their costly Piles, their precious wares, What choice, and store of rarities appeares Within their Magazines. Observe their state; Their clothes, their jewels, furniture and plate; And tell me, if they doe not signifie That there is farre more Pride, then poverty. Gold, silver, pearles and diamonds doe glare And glitter in your eye-sight, ev'ry where. Himselfe disgrac't the meanest Cobler thinks, Vnlesse his Beere and Wine in Plate he drinkes, And eates in silver. Yea, the poorest ones Must of that mettall have their bowles or spoones: On every thing, almost, pure gold is spilt. The meanest instruments are hatcht, or gilt. Their Servants, in their garments are as gay, As if that all the week•• were Holy day. Their Feastings are abundant, and their pleasure, Maintained is not, with a little Treasure. But, Cities are the Treasuries you'l say, Wherein the Kingdomes riches up we lay Survey the Country then, and tell me where The rusticke villages replenisht are

With such faire booties. Other Kingdomes have Their Cities, peradventure rich and brave, But in their scattered Villages, we see That few or none, save Peasants dwelling be, Possessing nor good house, nor houshold stuffe, Nor comely Clothes, nor wholesome food enough. Our Farmes are stor'd with usefull implements Enough to purchase all the tenements, And Lands in many forraigne Realms, that are As large as this our Cou••try doth appeare. Of yron, and of brasse enough have we To buy their gold. Our pewter should not be Exchanged for their fi••v••r; if all were Summ'd up, that's found with ev'ry Cottager: Nay, there be many houses in this Land That in remote obscurity doe stand, Which to the Foe would yeeld a richer prize Then many Townships which they might surprize On other shores: And yet, some doe not shame With poverty, this Iland to defame. WAR threatens us; and we of want complaine, Not knowing how our safeties to maintaine: Yet we doe nothing want that may conduce In warre or peace, to serve a needfull use. Armes, victualls, men, and money we have store; Yet, still, we falsly cry that we are poore. We are so greedy, that we will not spare, To save the hogge, one farthing worth of tarre. Gods blessings we so long time have abused That now we know not how they should be used. Or else we thinke each other so unjust, That no man knows with whom the meanes to tru••t. Oh! pray to God, to take away the cause Of these distempers; and to breake the Maze

In which we wander. For, like those we fare, Who sitting at a banquet, starved are. If we had peace with God, and could agree, This Kingdome which so needy seemes to be, Might with her superfluities maintaine Far greater armies, then the King of Spaine, With all his Indies. We might begger him, And make all who feare him, to contemne His winning projects; if we had but eyes To see and take the course that open lies. It is his gold encreasing his ambition, Which to the Christian world will bring perdition: And if prevention longer we delay, (Or if we doe not find a better way Then yet is trod) the current of his pow'r Will grow so strong, that it will all devoure. For, w••ere a streame runs broad, and swift, to stop His fury there, I see but little hope. Materials both for war and peace, must come To him from divers quarters; for at home His Country yeelds him little. But the yeare As it renewes, with us, reneweth here Our food and rayment; and though no supplies Come in, a staple of Commodities Our Iland is, which both in war and peace Will still be in request, and still encrease. Let therefore those who on t••e Continent Doe feare him, use their utmost to prevent His greatnesse there; and let our Sea-gi••t Ile (Forbearing on Land forces for a while, To spend their strength) intirely bend their pow'r, (As in preceding times) the Seas to scoure: For, with more profit, and a lesser charge, That shall our lost advantages enla••ge,

And, make his Armies, which are now so strong, Draw ba••k, decay, and mutiny, e're long. Were we resolv'd our course this way to bend, Of our maine stock we needed not to sp••nd One moitie. For, halfe of what is lost, Within this Kingdome (sav'd) would quit that cost, Let all, according to the port they beare, Forbeare but one vaine Feast in ev'ry yeare: Let ev'ry houshold, for the publike wealth, (Which also would advance the bodies health) Fast but one meale a week, and separate The price thereof, for service of the State: Or spare from their full boards of fl••sh or fish, The dressing, or the sawce, but of one dish: Le•• us but lay one lace or gard the lesse Vpon our Clokes; or save the co••••l••nesse In our ap••arell, which we well might spare, Yet, no defect upon the same appeare: Let us ••ese••ve but halfe the ••ithe of those ••xpences trifled ou•• in gam••s and showes; Which do not only needl••sse charge encrease, But still the kingd••me full of idlen••sse: O•• these, and many other such expences, (Which wast our wealth, and multiply offences) I•• we but part would give; perhaps, that cost Would save our lives, and all, from being lost. Tobacco (which the age that went before, Nor knew, nor needed) doth expend us more Then would maintaine an army: for, few think How much there is consum'd in smoake and stink. Pride is so c••stly, that if ev'ry Girle Should give t••e worth but of one lace or purle, Which trims her Crosse cloth, it would sailes provide ••or halfe the ships which now at Plimouth ride

H••d we but ev'ry forfeiture that's due, ••••om those of our notorious drunken crue; Or, ••f the value were together got, Although but of their twentieth needlesse pot, I am perswaded it aflote would set A greater Fleet then we have armed yet. The very Oaths which we may daily heare, (The men, the women, and the children sweare) If thundred forth together; would rore louder, ••hen all our Cannons: and, great shot and powder, Much more then would at ••ea and land suffise, Might purchas•• be, by halfe the penalties Which might be justly taken; if we had R••g••rd to execute the L••wes we made. God grant that of his honor, and of what Conce••nes the gen'rall safety of the State, We m••y mo••e zealous grow; and that some course May stop that mischiefe, which ye•• wax••th worse. And th••t f••om this, or from some better light, The meanes of ••eformation tak•• we might: Of which I hopefull am, and that e're long, Our Commonwealth shall sing a sweete•• song. When such •• time I see I shall be sure T••es•• Lines, oh! England, will thy love procure; And, I who for thy weale this paines bestow, Shall find more favour then 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for now▪ Yea, then shall I t••at yet have beene desp••s'd, ••ewa••led dye; o••, li••e much better priz'd. But not till then: No•• shall I live to v••ew Thy sorrowes ended, •• thou do not ••ue Thy sins with speed▪ Oh! the 〈…〉〈…〉 he To turne ••o God, ••hat he may t••rne to thee. B••s••••ch him, England, to unclose thine eyes, And let thee see in what thy sicknesse lies.

••mplore thou him to mollifie thy heart, Thy Children from their f••llies to divert, And, break tho•••• chaines of ignorance and sin▪ Which at th••s present thou ly'st fetterd in. Endeavor to be friends with God againe: And, he will all thy furious foes restrain••. Thy faulty members, who doe now disturb Thy peace; he either will remove or curb. Those G••ces thou perceivedst heretofore Adorne thy Soveraigne, shall be hid no more By those darke fogs which from ••hy sins do rise, For, God will take the skales from oft th••ne eyes. On thee, his countenance againe ••hall shine; That thou maist la••d him in a Song divine: And, th••y who now lament thy ••ad ••st••te, In Hym••es of joy shall praise thy happy Fate.

The eighth Canto.

Our Poet having ••oucht againe Wh••t fr••il••ies in hims••lfe remaine, D••cl••res, th••t many Plagues doe steale As well on Chu••ch, as Commonweale: Rel••tes wh••t cro••che••s doe possesse Some, who Religionsn••sse professe: W••at n••ysome ••lants, what tares and weeds, A••e sprung, ••o choake the holy seeds: Wh••t fai••ed zeale, and affectation, H••th fool'd this formall Generation: And, how from some, great scandall growes, Who ••eare the keyes, that bind and loose. Next, he delivereth Predictions Of plague, of sorrowes and afflictions, Which on this ••••and will descend,

Vnl••sse our manners we amend. And, whensoever civill j••rs, Or mischiefes, by the rage of wars, Oppresse this Realme; his Muse doth show▪ Who shall occasion it; and how. Which fearfull Iudgement to prevent, He calls upon her to repent: By ••en apparant signes, hath showne, Gods patience nigh expir'd is growne: Then, for the Publike-wea••e, he prayes: Then, for himselfe; and, there he stayes.

I Doe not wo••der, as I e••st have don••, That when the Prophet Ionas should have gone To N••niveh, Gods word he disobey'd, And would himselfe to Tha••sus have convey'd: For, I have now a sense how flesh and blood The motions of the Holy Ghost withstood, And feele (me thinks) how many a likely doubt The Devill, and his frailty, found him out He was a man (thoug•• he a Prophet were) In whom no li••tle weaknesse did appeare: And, thus he thought, perchance, What shall I doe? Astrange at••empt my heart is ur••ed to: And, there is somewhat, earnestly incites That I sho••ld hasten to the Ninivites, And, preach, that if they alter not their wayes, Their time of standing▪ is but forty dayes, My soule perswadeth God injoynes me to it; And sle••pe in peace, I cannot▪ till I doe it: B••t common Reason strivet•• to rest••aine Th•• motion, and p••rswade•• me tis in vaine. I•• saith, I am a sin••er▪ and so fraile, That, many times, my best endeavors f••ile

To rectifie my s••lfe. How shall I then Be hopefull of recl••iming other men? To Isr'el •• have threa••ne•• many yeares Gods judgements: yet, no fruit thereof appearess Although the, hav•• some knowledg•• of the Lo••d, And are within his League, they sleight ••is word: What hope then is there, that a he••then Nation Will prove regardfull of my exhortation? The stile of Prophet, in this land I cary, And such a Calling, here, is ordinary; But, in a forraigne State, what warranty Have I, to publ••sh such a Prophesie? How may th•• King and People take the same, If I shall in the open streets d••fame So great a City? and, condemne for sin, A place wherein I never yet have bin? If I shall say, the Lord comm••nded me: Then, they perhaps, will answer: What is he? For, they professe him not. Nay, some suspition They may conceive, that I to mo••e sedition Am sent among them. Or, if otherwise They sh••ll suppose; how can they but d••s••ise My person, and my counsell, who shall from So f••r a place, som••ere a stranger come, That no man knowe••, or what or who I am, Or from what Countr••, or from w••om I came? Such thoughts (belike) delay'd▪ and fear'd him so; And, so the Spirit urg'd him still to go For N••niveh; that nor to goe, nor stay, Could he resolve: but, fled another way. From which rebellious course, God fetcht him back With such a vengeance, that he did not lack Sufficient proofes, how Reason did betray him, And, in his Calling▪ causlesly aff ay him.

Yea (mark heav'ns providence) thou••h Io••as went Another way, it crost not God's intent, But furthred it. For, doubtl••sse, e're he came To Niniveh, the miracle and fame Of his Deliverance, was s••nt before; And, made his preaching worke on them the more. Now, though I doe nor arrogate, nor dare My selfe (except in frailties) to compare With blessed Ionas: yet, I may be bold To say, o••r Causes a resemblance hold▪ My heart (and when that moves, as one averres, It more prevailes then many Counsellers) My heart (I say) perswaded me e're while, To reade a warning Lecture to this Ile. And in such manner moved; that, to say It came from God, me thinks, be bold I may. Yet, my owne nat'rall frailty, and the world, Among my ••houghts so many doubtings hurld, That ev'ry step had rubs. I lev••ll'd some In my last Canto. Yet, I could not come To eaven ground, till I had overtopt Some other Mountaines which my passage stopt. Beware, said Reason, how thou u••dertake This hazardous adventure, which to make Thou hast resolv'd. For, this wise age denies That God vouchsafed any Prop••••sies Concerning them; or, that the application Of ought for••told, pertaineth to this Nation. She saith, my Constancy is no true si••ne That God first moved this intent of mine▪ Since Hereti••ks, and T••aytors oft are seene As bold in all their causes to have beene As Martyrs be. And, that for what they d••e▪ They can pretend t••e holy ••p••••it too.

And she pe••s••ades, tis likely I shall passe (At best) for on•• that much deluded was She saye••, more••ver, that if these times be Indee••, so wicked, as they seeme to me, I shall in stead of movin•• to repent, Nought else but stir their fury, and be rent Perhaps in pieces, by their hasty ••••age. For, what's more likely in a wicked age? When people in their sins grow hardned once, She sayes I may as well goe talke to s••ones, As tell them ought. For, they are in the dark; And, what they see and heare, they do not ma••k. She urged that the Prophets in old times Did speak in vaine against the peoples crimes; And if in them their words bega•• no faith, Much lesse will such as mine, my Re••son saith. She tells me also, that this Ile hath store Of Prophets, and of Preachers never more: She sayes that thou•••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 calling none suspect, Their paines appeare to take but small ••ffect••: And, if suc•• men authorized as they, Doe cast their words, without successe, away; In vaine my Muse (whose wa••rant most contemne) Doth seeke to work more piety in them. A t••ousand things unto the like effect, Yea, all and more then any can object, (Who shall peru••e this Book) my Reason brought Before me, and objected to my thou••ht. And, as a Pilgrim (who occasions hath To take some extraordinary path) Arivall making a••a double way, Is doubtfull whether to proceed or stay: So fared I; I was nigh tired quite, Before I could be c••rtaine of the right.

Yea, twixt my doubts, and all those replies Which in my meditations did ari••e; I so amazed grew, I could not know Which way it best befitted me to goe. But, at the last, God brought me thorow all My doubts and feares, as through the Storm & Wha••••, Once Ionas came: That so, all they, who are Ordained for their good, these Lines to heare, The more may profit, when they think upon What straits I passed, e're this work was done: To that intent my frailties I h••ve so Insisted on, as in this book I do. Yea, I am hopefull also, they that read These lines of mine (and mark with how much heed And Christian awfulnesse, my heart was won To censure and reprove as I have done) Will plainly see, these Numbers flow not from Fantastick rashnesse; nor from envy come▪ Nor spring from faction; neither we 〈◊〉〈◊〉 By their distracted zeale, who (knowing not What Spirit guides them) often are beguiled With shewes of truth; and madly have rev••led Both good and ill: and whose unsavory Rimes Defames mens persons more then che••k their crimes. Dishonour Kings; their sacred names blaspheme; And having gain'd some notions in a dreame, Or by report (of what they know not well) Desire their gid••y thoughts abroad to tell: In hope to merit: as in deed they doe, Sometime the pillory, and g••llowes too. I trust, I say, these lines will seeme no such; Or, if they doe, truth is▪ I ••are not mu••h, Because I certaine am what pow'•• infused Those matters, whereupon I now have muzed:

And know, that none will these or me condemne, But they whose rage and follies I contemne. Yet, that they may be sure I neither care Who c••nsures me, nor what their censures are, (When honest things I doe) here, somewhat more I'le adde to what is me••tioned before: And give thee, Britaine, a more perfect sight Of thy distempers, and thy sickly plight. Yea, thou shalt know, I have not seene alone A bodily Consumption ste••ling on, And was••ing of thy Temporalties▪ but, that I also have discovere•• ••f late, A Lethar••y upon thy soule to steale: And that as well the Church as Commonweale Doth need a cure. Oh! doe not quite neglect The good of both; but▪ one (at least) respect. Though Iudahs sicknesses unheeded be, (Although thy t••mporall wounds afflict not thee) Yet▪ looke on Syon: yea, behold and see Thy Spiritual••ies▪ how much empair'd they be. The Churches Pa••••••mony is decay'd; And many a one is in her spoiles araid: Those Patrons (as we terme them in this age) Who of her Dowries have the patronage, Doe rob and cheat her, many times of all; And, their Donations basely set to sale. Those Cananites, whom thou pres••rvest here, (And by thy lawes to be expelled were) Are in thy borders now so multiply'd, That they are thornes and thistles in thy side. They are become a Serpent in thy path, Which bites unseene; and nigh unhorsed hath Some able Riders. On thy Places-high Thy people do commit Idolat••y▪

And reare strange Altars. In thy Fields are found Those cunning harmfull Foxes to abound, That spoile thy Vines. And, some I have espy'd, Twixt whose oppo••ed t••les, are f••••ebrands ••y'd, Which waste thy fruits. Thy Ha••v••st se••meth fai••e; But secret blasting•• doe so much impai••e And blite the Corne; that when it come•• to bread, Thy Childr••n oft unwholsomly are fed. Men use Religion as a stalking-horse To catch preferment; yea, sometime to wor••e And baser uses they employ the same; Like that bold Harlot, who quite, 〈…〉〈…〉 Did of her Vowes, and her Peace of••••ngs make A sinne, lascivious customers to take. Yea, some (resembling him, from whom was cast One Devill) when one sin they ••ave d••splac't▪ Of which the world took notice, sw••ep a••d ••l••nse Themselves (in show) from a••l thei•• other si••s; Yet secretly, let Sathan reposs••sse, And foul•• them with a seve••-fold wi••kedne••••••. An univ••rsall dulnesse will ••enu•• Thy senses, if thou doe not soone become More heed••ull of thy state, then thou a••t yet: For, ev'••y pa••t hath ••elt an ague-fit. Thy Academs, which are the famous places In which all pious knowledges and graces Shóuld nourisht be▪ and whence thy chiefe supply Of Teachers, com••, (as f••om a Nurse••y) Ev'n those faire ••ountaines are much tainted grown, With doctrines hardly found, which thence are blown Through ev'••y quarter. In their Schooles are heard Vaine ••••ggs and jangling••, worthlesse of regard. The ••very Pulpi••s, and their Oratories, Are Stages, whereupon their owne vainglo••ies

Men often act. Yea, many a vaine conceit, Is brought in stead of arguments of weight: And (which is worse) disorder is so rise Among them; and the weeds of evill life Have so o'regrowne those Gardens, that (unlesse Good government shall speedily redresse That spreading mischiefe) it will overtop The plants of Syon, and destroy her crop. To be thy Shepheards, Wolves are stolen in▪ And, thou hast those who ev'n by day begin To sow their Tares among thy purest Se••d; And, with mixt Graines thy Lands pollution breed. For hire and money▪ prophesies the Prophet: The Priest do••h preach, to make a living of it, Ev'n meerly for a living; and, ••ut few Th••ir holy charge, for co••science sake pursue: W••ich I by many signes could make apparent, But t••at it is not yet wi••hin my Warrant. Loq••untur C••rae leves▪ little Cures Doe 〈…〉〈…〉 preach, whilst poverty endures. Ing••nt••s s••upent; but, large livings make Our Doctor•• dumb: condemne not my mistake: For, though I doe the Lat••ne sent••nce wrong, That's true I tell ••ou in the Engl••sh ••ongue. Our N••tion, which of l••te prophanenes••e ha••ed, Is in that sin almost Itali••nated. The Scriptures without reverence are used: The ho••y phrase, in jestings▪ is abused: To flout, or praise, or cu••se, we ••an apply Gods holy word, most irrel••giously: Instead of Emblem••s, moving thoughts divi••e, The filthy pictures of lewd Aret••ne, Are found in many Clossets. Foolishlies, Prophane and most lasciviou: Ele••••es

Are publike made. Yea, those whom heretofore A heathen Emperour did so abhor, That he▪ for them, their wanton Author sent To undergoe perpetuall banishm••nt: Ev'n these, we reade; and worse then those, by far, All••wed passe, and unreproved are. Nay, their vaine Authors often cherisht be: At l••••st, they have the favour to goe free. But, if a graver Muse reprove thei•• sin, Lord, with what hasty zeale they call it in! How libellous they make it! and how vile, Thou know'st; and at th••ir fol••y thou dost smile. Full war••ly, the politick Divi••e, (Who should allow it) scanneth ev'ry Line Before it passe; each phrase he doth su••pect; Although he findeth nothing to be chekt, He feares to Licence it And if by chan••e It passe abroad, forthwith doth ignorance Mistake or mis••pply; and false and bade Constructions are, of good expressions made. Yea, they who on the ••ea••s of Iud••emen•• fit, Are o••t, most ready, to miscensure it. I would they were as fo••ward to disgrace Those Autho••s, who have filled ev'ry place With fruitlesse Volumes. For d••spersed are Ev'n qui••e throughout this Iland ev'ry yeare, Ev'n many thousand Reames of scurri••e toyes, Songs, Rymes and ••allads, whose vaine use destroyes Or hinders Vertuous knowledge, and D••votion. And this we doe to f••••ther the promotion Of our Diana. Yet, behold, if we To publish some few sheets required be, Containing pyous Hymns, or Christian Songs, Or ought which to the praise of God belongs:

We doe so feare the hindrance of our gaine, That like th' Ephesian Silver-smiths, we faine A great complaint. As if to have enlarged A little Booke, had grievously o're charged The Common-weal••h. Whereas if it were weigh'd, How much o•• late this Land is overlaid With ••••iviall Volumes: ••r, how much they doe Corrupt our Manners, and Religion too, By that abusive matter they containe; I should not seeme unjust••y to complain•• These times do swarme with Pamphlets w••ich be far More dangerou••, then mo••tall poysons are Ev'n in thos•• bookes, whereby the simple thought To fi••d t••u•• knowledg•• th••y their Bane have caught: For, thence, strong Heresies (there b••ing hid Amid some doub••l••sse Truths, a while unspid) Steal out among the people, by degrees; More mis••hi••fe working then each Reader sees. And, so, to ruine knowledge▪ that is made An instrum••nt; whereby it rais••ng had For (by their lucre, who the Chu••ches peace D••sturb, their p••ivate profit to encre••se) Tho••e Doctrines which are unauthori••ed, Are so promiscuously divulg'd, and spread, Among approved V••rities; that some Are in those Lab••rinths amaz'd become: And▪ such a Contradiction is in that Wh••ch their confused Pamphlets doe relate; That, Common Readers, know not which to leave, Nor, which the Church of England doth receive. And, f••om this mischiefe many others flow, Which will, in future tim••s, more ha••mfull grow. This, spins vaine Controversies to their length; By this, most Heresies receive their strength.

And what distraction it already makes, Our grieved Mother wofull n••tice take••. In stead of active knowledge, and her fruit▪ This filleth men with itching•• of dispute, And empty words; whereby are set abroach A thousand quarrells, to the Truths reproach. The Sectaries, the Mun••ey••s, and the Apes, The Cubs and Foxes, which do mar o••r Grape••; The Wolves in sheep-skins, and our frantick rable Of Worship-mongers, are innumerable. And, as the Churches quiet they molest, So they each other spightfully infest. We have some Papists: some that halfe way goe: Some Semi-puritans; some▪ w••olly ••o; Some Anabap••ists; some, who doe refu••e Black puddings; and good porke; like a••rant I••wes: Some also term'd Arminians are among Our Priests and People, ve••y lately sprung. What most, so call'd, professe, I stand not for: And what some say they teach, I doe abhor▪ ••ut, what som•• other, so misnam'd, beleeve, Is that whereto best Christians credit give. For, as we see the most reformed man, By Libertines, is term'd •• Puritan: So (by our purblinde Formalists) all those Who new fantastick crotchets doe oppose, Begin to be mis-term'd Arminians now. And, hence e're long will greater mischieves grow Then most imagine. For, the foolish feare, Lest they to be Arminians may app••are, Or else be termed Puritans, will make Great multitudes Religion quite forsake. And, I am h••lfe perswaded, thi•• will on•• Of those great Schismes (or ea••••hquakes) cause which 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Foretold in his Apocalyps; and they Are bl••st, who shall not thereby fall away▪ Some Brownists, and some Familists have we; And some, that no man can tell what they be; Nor they themselves. Some, seeme so wondrous pur•• They no mens conversations can endure, Vnlesse they u••e their plaistrings, and appeare In ev'ry formall garbe which th••y sh••l•• w••are▪ The••e be of those who in their words de••y, And hate t••e practice of Idol••try, Yet make an Idol of their form••l•• z••ale, And underneath strict holin••ss••, c••nceale A mystery of evill, whi••h dece••ve•• them, And, when they think all ••a••e in danger le••ves th••m▪ Their whole Religion, some d••e pla••e in hea••i••g: Some, in the ou••w••••d action o•• fo••b••aring Ill deeds; or in wel doing▪ though the heart In t••at performance beare ••o ••eall pa••t. Some othe••s, of th••i•• mo••••ll action, make Small conscience: and, affirme that God doth take No notice how in body they transgresse, If him they in th••i•• inward man conf••sse: As i•• a soule b••loved could reside Wit•• in a body quite unsanctifi••e. Some, not contented in t••e ••ct of sin, Are growne ••o impudent, that they begin To justifie th••ms••l••es in wickedn••sse; Or, by quaint ••rguments, to make it lesse: And, by such Monsters, to such ends as this, The Christian-liberty defamed is. N••w fanglednesse, Religion hath o'rethrowne; And, many as fantastica••l are growne In that as in ••pparell. Some, deligh•• In nothing more then to be opposite

To other men: Their zeal they wholly spend The present Government to reprehend; The Churches discipline to v••lifie; And raile, at all, which pleads Antiquitie. They love not peace: and therefore have suspition Of Truth it selfe, if out of persecution: And are so thankleffe, or so heedlesse be Of Gods great love, in giving such a free And plenteous meanes of publishing his word, That, what his Prophets of the Iewes record, Some verefie in us. Much praise is given To that b••inde age, wherein the Queene of heav'n Was worshipt here. And, f••lsly, we ••xtoll Those Dayes, as being much more plenti••ull. Some, at the frequency of Preach••ng gru••ch, And, tyred with it, thinke wee have too much: Nay, impudently practise to suppr••sse That Exercise, and make our plenty lesse. And, that their d••ings may not want some ••ayre Or goodly coulor, they doe call for Pray'r, In stead thereof; as if we could not pray, Vntill our Preaching we had sent away. As these are foolishly, or lewdly, wise▪ We have some othe••s wantonly precise. So way wardly dispos'd, amidst our plenty, And through their curiositie, so dainty; That, very many cannot w••ll dig••st The Bread of life, but in their m••nner drest. Now will Gods Manna, or that measure serve Which he provides; But, they cry out they starve, Vnlesse they feed upon their owne opinions, (VVhich are like Egypts Ga••licke and her Oynions) Some like not Prayer that's ext••mporary▪ S••me love not any t••a•• s••t fo••me 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••ary.

Some thinke there's no devotion, but in those That howle, or whine, or snuffle in the no••e; As I that God vouchsafed all his Graces For ••••ined gestures, or for sowre faces. Some think not that the man, who gravely teacheth, Or hath a sober gesture when he preacheth, Or gentle voyce: hath any zeal in him, And the••efore, such like Preachers they contemne. Yea, th••y suppose that no mans doctrine saves The soule of any one, unlesse he raves, And rores aloud, and flings, and hurleth so As if his armes he quite away would throw; Or over-leap the Pulpit; or els breake it: And this (if their opinion true may make it) Is to advance their voyces Trumpet-like▪ A•• God commands: yea, this (they say) doth strike Sinne dead. VVhereas, indeed, God seldome goes In whi••lwinds: but is in the voyce of those VVho speake in meeknes. And it is not in The pow'r of ••oyse to shake the walls of sinne: For clamors, ••ntique actions, writhed looke••▪ And such like mi••••micke Rhetoricke none brooke•• That hath discretion: neyther doth it move The heart of any, when we so reprove; Ex••ept it be in some contrary motion, Which interrupts the hearers good devotion. The well aff••ct••d Christian pit••ies it; It makes prophanest men 〈◊〉〈◊〉 naught to set God•• O••dinance. Mee••e mor••ll men despise Such affectation: much it ter••••ies The ignorant: but very few srom thence Rece••ve sound knowledge, or ••ive penitence. Some relish nothi••g, but those points th•••• are In controversie: some would nothing heare

But songs of Mercy; some, del••••h•• i•• none But Sons of Th••nder; and sc••rc•• any one Is pleas'd in what he heares. Nay, of th••i•• Preachers, M••cha••••••k arroga••e to be their teachers. Yea most of us, what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 our Pastor sayes, Keepe sti••l ••ur owne opinions and our wayes. To heare and know Gods word, to some among Our Nation, seemeth only to belong To Clergymen; and, their implicite Faith Is built on what the common rumour saith. Some others fill'd w••th curiosity Affirme that ev'ry sev'rall mystery Within Gods Book included, doth concerne Ev'n each particular Christian man to learne: Whereas they might as well affirme, each guest That is invited to a publike Feast, Is bound the sev'rall dishes there to heed, And upon ev'ry meat b••fore him feed. Nay, some have almost this imagination, That there is hardly hope of their salvation▪ Who speake not Hebrew. And, this now adayes, Makes foolish women, and young Prentises To learn•• that holy Tongue▪ in which they grow As cunning as doe those who nothing know, Save to be arrogant, and to cont••mne Those Pastors, who have taken charge of them. The appetite of some growes dull, and ••ailes, Vnlesse it m••y be pampered with Quailes; High flying crotchets, which we see d•• fill Not halfe so m••ny soul••s as they do kill We cannot be content to make our flights, For that which God exposeth to our sights, And search for that which he is pleas'd to show, But, we must also p••y, what God doth know.

W••i••h ••as inde••d an a••c••ent fallacy O•• Sathans; and the v••••y same whereby He cheated Eve. From seeking to disclose Beyond our warrant, what God only knowes, Proceedeth many erro••s. Thence doth come Most questi••ns that have troubl••d Christendome. Yea, searching things conceal'd, hath overthrowne The comfo••table use o•• what is knowne. Hence flow••s their fruitlesse fond asseveration, Who blundred on Eternall Reprobation, And many groundlesse whimsies have invented, Whereby much better muzings are prevented. Of Reprobation I no doubt have made; Yet, those vaine quarrellings which we have had, Concerning her, and her antiquity, (But that the world hath wise•• fooles then I) Appeares to me to bring so little fruits, That I suppose i•• fitter for disputes In hell (amo••g the reprobated ••rue) Then for a Church of Christia••s to pursue: At least to braule about wi•••• ••••ch hot rage, As hath poss•••••• so••e ••p••rits of this age. For, some have u••g••d this p••••nt of ••e••••obation, As if the chi••••e•••• ground-w••••k of salvation Depended on ••••••e••ving, just, as they (Deluded by their fancies) please to say. And, though they n••ver found God•• holy wo••d Did any mention of the same affo••d, But, as of that which did begin since Time; And with respect to s••me committed crime: They, nathelesse, their strengths together gather, To prove the Child is older then the Fat••er. And, since that f••tall thr••d, there, finds her spinning, But from of Old; at fa••thest from B••ginning:

They Reprobation, otherwhile confound With our Predestination: which is found No where in all the Scripture▪ to ••e••pect The Reprob••tes, but ••nely Gods Elect. And then they are compeld to p••ove the sense Of their dar••e Tenet, by an inference; And to affirme (••rom ••eason) that Election Eternall, doth infer the like ••ejection. (As if an action of Eternity, Were fit to square out shallow reasons, by) Which A••gument because it hath not tak••n True Faith, to ground on, may with ease be shaken▪ Their tottering structure, there••ore, up to keep, They into Gods fore know••edge boldly peep, Beyond his warrant; searching for Decrees And secrets, farther then an Angell sees: Presuming then, ••s if all things they knew, And had Eternity within their view. But, that hath such an infinite extension, Beyond their narr••w-bounded comprehension, That, th••••e they wa••••er on, ••ill they are madd: And 〈…〉〈…〉 lit••le knowledge w••ich they had: Fo•• ••spa•• they but m•••• men who maintaine The g••••di••-••••••cies of their owne weake braine, For Theses of Religion, which we must Beleeve as they affi••me t••em, or be thrust Among the Repr••bates? What lesse, I pray, Are they then m••d••, who fool•• ••heir wits away In wheeling Arguments which have no end? In ••traines which man shall never apprehend? In seeking what their knowledge do•••• exceed? In vaine disputings, which contentions breed. In strange Chymera's, and fantastick notions, That neither stirre us up to good devotions,

Nor mend our manners? But our w••yes pervert, Distract the Iudgment, or puff up ••he heart. If this I may not ••adnes call, or folly, Tis (all the best) religious-melancholly. What shal we iudg of those who strive to make Gods word (who••e Termes and Scope they much mi∣stake Their proofes for that wh••reof no proofes they are, And sleight these Truths, for which the text is clear▪ What shall we deeme of these, who quite mistaking Good Authors, (and their Volumes guilty making Of what th••y never meant) do preach and write Against those Bookes, with rancorous despight, Which being well examin'd, say the same Which they affirme, and check what they do blame. Such men there be, and they great noise haue made By fighting furiously with their owne shade. What may b•• thought of them, who likely, ever, In their perverse opinions to persever, Take knowledge up on trust: and follow those Who leade them on, as wild-ge••••e fly in ••owes? And when their multitude is waxen great, Do then so wilfully prejudicate, Become so confid••nt of that they hold, And in their blind assurance, so are bold, That they can brook no tryal••, neither see Their oversights, how plaine so ere they be? But fondly think (though we beleeve it not) That they infall••••ilitie h••ve got? Some pious men; yea, some great Doctor•• tread, Such Loabrinths; and often are misled By holding that which t••ey at fi••st were taught, Without due proving all things as they ••ught: And vulgar men are often led awry, By their examples and for company.

For, as a Trav••ller, that i•• to come From some far Count••y, through large desarts, h••me▪ (Not knowing well the way) is glad to take His course with such who showes of cunning make, And walks along, d••pending s••ill on them, Through many a wood, an•• over many a streame, T••ll he and they are loft: there to remaine He finds no safety, nor meanes back againe, Nor list to leave his company; because He hopes that nearer homeward still he drawes, And that his guides full sure of passage are, Although they cannot well describe it, there. So, when plaine men doe first attempt the way Of knowledge, by their guides, they walk as••ray, Without distrust; and when ariv'd they be Where many troublesome windin••'s, they do see, And where no certaintie they can b••h••ld, Yet, on their leaders knowledge they are bold, O•• on their multitude▪ yea, though they know, And, see them erre, and ••u••ne, and stagger so, (In da••ksome paths) that well suppose they may, They rove and wander in an unc••uth way; Yet, still they are unwilling to suspect The wild me of the Fathers of their Sect. Yea, though no satisfaction t••ey can find, Though feare, and doubtings ••o affl••ct their mind, They still impute it rat••er to their owne Infirmities, or to the depths unknowne Of those mysterious points, to mention brought; But never call in question what is taught: Lest being by those Teachers terrifide, They might forsaken in d••••p••i••e abide. Their Doctors, also, fail••ng to d••vise Strong Arguments, their h••arers to suffice;

This course, to salve their credits, la••e have ••ot; They say (forsooth) Faiths doctrine ••eules not With naturall capac••••ies; and that The Spirit must those men illuminate Who shall receive them▪ And, indeed in this, They doe both say the truth, and say amisse: This is a lesuitish juggling trick, And, if allow'd it be, each lunatick, And ev'ry brain-sick Dreamer, by that way, May foist upon us all that he can say. For, though Gods holy Spirit must create New hearts within us, and regenerate Depraved nature, e're it can be able To make our outward hearings profitable; We must not think that all which fancy saith (In termes obscure) are mysteries of Faith. Nor make the hearers want of pow'r to reach Their meanings, to be proofes of what they teach. There is twixt ••en, & that which they are taught, Som•• naturall proportion▪ or tis naught▪ The deepest mystery ••f our profession, Is capable of literall expression, As well to R••probates, as men elected; Or else it may of error be suspected Yea wicked men a power granted have To understand, although they miscon••eive. And can of d••••kest points make plaine relations, Though to themselves they faile in applications. God never yet did bid us take in hand To publish that which none can understand: Much lesse affecte••h he a man should mutten Rude sounds of that▪ whose depth he cannot utter; Or in uncertaine termes as many doe, Who preach Non sense, and oft nonentia too.

For those whi••h man to man is bound to show, Are such plaine Truths, as we by word may know; Which when the hearer can expresse againe, The fruit hath equalled the Teachers paine. Then, though the soule doth many ••imes conceive (By Faith, and by that Word which we receive) Deep mysteries, and that which farre transcends A carnall knowledge: though she a••prehends Some glimmerings of those Objects, that a••e higher Then humane Reason ever shall a••pire; Though she hath tastings of th••t blesse••n••s, Which mortall tongue could never yet expresse; And though the soule may have some earn••st g••ven On earth, of what it shall enjoy in heauen; Though God may when he list (and now and then For cause not ordinary) to some men Vouchsafeth (for their secret satisfactions) A few reflections fr••m eternal•• actions: T••ough this be so, let no man arrog••te That he such sec••ets can by word relate. For, they are things▪ of which no voyce can preach; High flights, to whi••h no mortall wing can reach; Tis Gods owne worke, such raptures to convay, To compasse ••h••m there is no other w••y, But by his blessed Spirit. And, of tho••e Most can we not; some must we not disclose For, if they onely touch out pri••ate state, They were not sent, that we should them relate▪ But d••igned that the soule they stren••then might Amid the perills of some secret fight; When men to honor God, or fo•• their sinn, The terrors of this life are glun••ed in. And, as it i•• reputed of those things. Which foolish people thinke some Fairy b••ings.

So, of Euthusiasmes speak I may; Discover them, and straight ••hey flye away. For▪ thus they fare who boast of Revelations, Or of the certainty of their Salvations, Or any ghostly gift, at times or places, Which warrant not the mention of such graces: Yea, by revealing things which they should hide, They entrance make for over-weening p••ide, And that quite marres the blessing they possest, Or, for a while, obscureth it, at best: And yet, if any man shall climbe so high, That they attaine unto a Mystery, Co••ceiv'd by few; they may, if they be able, Dis••lose it where it may b•• profitable, But, they must know, that (if it be, indeed, Of such transcendency, as doth exceed Mee••e naturall reaches) it should be declar'd To none, save unto those who are prepar'd For such conceptions; and more apt to know them By their owne thoughts, then are our words to show them. Else, all they utter will in clouds appeare, And, errors men for truths, away will beare. Would this ha•• beene observ'd a little more, By some who in our Congregations roare Of Gods unknowne Decrees, Eternall-Callings, Of Perseverance, and of Finall, Fallings, And such like Mysteries▪ Or else, I would That they their meanings better utter could, (If well they meant.) For, though those points afford Much comfort and instruction (as Gods word Hath mention'd them) and may applyed be, And opened, when we just occasion see; Yet, as most handle them, who now adayes Doe passe for Preachers, with a vulgar praise▪

They profit not: for, this ripe age hath young And forward wits, who by their fluent tongue, And able memories, a way have found To build a house, e're they have laid the ground. With common places, and with notes purloin'd, (Not well applyed, and as ill conjoyn'd) A garb of preaching these have soone attained, Which hath, with many, approbation gained Beyond their merit. For, they take in hand Those mysteries, they neither understand, Nor studied on. And, they have much distracted Some hearers, by their doctrines ill compacted: Yea, by enquiring out what God fore-sees, And medling much with his unknowne Decree••, The Churches peace so much disturb'd have they; So foule and crooked made Faiths plainest way; Such scandals rais'd; and interrupted so. By doubts impertinent, what men should do; And, their endeavors nullifide, so far, That many of them at a nonplus are. I am not of their minds, who take from this And other things, that are perform'd amisse, O••casion to disparage frequent preaching; Or, to abate our plentiousnesse of teaching: For, of our Harvest, Lord, I humbly pray, The store of Labourers continue may. And, I could also wish, that none were chose To be a seed man, till he truly knowes The Wheat from Tares; and is indu'd with reason, And grace, to sow in order, and in season. And that those a••tlesse workmen may be staid, W••o build before foundations they have laid••▪ Lest, when our Church well built, suppose we shall, It sink, and overwhelme us in the fall.

It pities me to marke what rents appeare Within our Syon; and what daubings are To hide the ruines; and I feare the frame Will totter, if we long neglect the same. Our Watchme••, for the greater pa••t, are growne Lesse mindfull of Gods honor, t••en their owne: For either almost wholly we omit That worke, or undiscreetly follow it. Some, speak the truth, without sincere intention, As they who preach the Gospell for contention. Some, by their wicked lives do give offence, And harden men in their impenitence. As if nor hell nor heav'n they did beleeve, They riot, game, drink drunk, and whore, and theeve. For avarice, and envy, none are worse; They are malicious, and blaspheme, and curse, As much as any others. None are more Regardlesse of the soule that's meane and poore; Among their neighbours, none more quarrelsome, Or, that more hardly reconcil'd become, Then many Clergie-men. And as we see They are the best of mon, when good they be; So, there are none that wander more astray, When they have left a sanctified way. Some Pastors are too hot; and some too cold; And, very few the golden temper hold. Some, at the Papist with such madnesse fling, As if they could not utter any thing Of them too vile; though ne're so false it were: And, we so used by their Iesuits are. Some others at the Puritan do strike, So furiously, that they are often like To wrong the Protestants: for, men impose That name, sometime, upon the best of those.

Yea, they who are prophane, that name mis-lay On all who make a conscience of their way. Some Shepheards, on their Flocks are go••g'd at full, And sumptuously arayed in their wooll. But, those that are diseas'd, they make not strong; Their sickliest sheepe they seldome come among; They take no care, the broken up to bind, The Sheep that's lost, they doe not seeke to find; They let such wander as will run ast••ay; And, many times their fury so doth f••ay The tender conscience; that their in••iscretion Doth fright their hearers headlong to perdition. Gods bounty hath large pastorage provided; But, they have not his flocks with wisedome guided: For, in the midst of plenty, some be ready To starve in ignorance. Some sheep are headdy; Some get the staggers; some the scab; and they Infect their fellowes. Some, the wantons play Among the thornes and bryers, which have torne The marks and fleeces, which they should have worn. Some straggle from the flock; and they are straight Surpriz'd by Wolves, which lye for them in wait. Some, sought large feeding, and ran••k pastures got, Which prov'd not wholsome; & they caught the Ro••. For, many preach themselves, and fancies broach, That scandall preaching, to the Truths reproach. Yea, some terme that (forsooth) Gods word divine, Which would halfe shame me, should they terme it mine. And they we see, that longest pray and speak Are priz'd of most (though head nor foot they make) Because the common hearers of this land, Think best of that, which least they understand. Some, also, by their feet disturb the Spring••; Or trample and defile Gods pasturings;

And they are either such who make obscure Faiths p••inciples; or, such who••e lives impure Prophane their Doctrines. Other some have we, Who (like the beasts that over gamesome be) Doe push their ••eaker brethren with their hornes▪ And hunt them from the flock, by wrongs, or scorne. Gods horses, also, much neglected are; And of his Sanctuaries, few have care. A barne, or any common house, or roome, Is thought as well Gods worship to become, As in the Churches infancy; or there, Where wants, and wars, and persecutions are. Amidst our peace and plenties, we do grutch Our Oratories should be trimm'd as much As are our vulgar dwellings; and repine That exercises which are most divine, Should with more Rites, or Ornaments, be done, Then when the troublous times afforded none. As if a Garden, when the flow'rs are blowne, Were still to look as when it first was sowne. To worship so in spirit, we pretend That, in our bodie••, we doe scarcely bend A leg, or move a cap, when there we be, Where Gods most holy Mysteries we see. Yea, many seeme so caref••ll to have bin, To let no Superstition enter in, That they have, almost, wholly banisht hence, All Decency, and pious Reverence. The Church, by Lukewarme-Christians, is neglected By brutish Athe'sts it is disrespected; By greedy Worldlings, robbed of her fleeces; By selfe-will'd Schismaticks, nigh torne in pieces; By Tyrants, and by Infidels opposed; By her blind Guides, to hazard oft exposed;

By Hypocrites, injuriously desamed; And, by the fr••ilties of the best, oft shamed. A pow'r ecclesiasticall is granted To them, full often, who those minds have wanted Becomming such Authority: and they Play fast and loose, ev'n with the Churches Key. They censure and absolve, as best shall make For their advantage; not for consc••ence sake. As they shall please, they punish or connive; And, by the peoples follies they do thrive. Of evill customes, many are we see Insinuated, and so strict are we To keep them, that we sottishly deny To leave them, for what more would edifie: And we so much do Innovations feare, That needfull Reformations no••e appeare. We have prophan••d ev'ry holy thing; Ev'n out most Christian ••••asts, which are to bring God•• Mercies to our thou••••t; and memorize Of Saving-Grace, the sacred Mysteri••s: Some have ev••n those gain-sayed; and, in that Have evill spoken, of they know not what. Some others keep them; but, as heathnishly, As Feasts of Bacchus; and impiety Is then so rife, that God is rarely nam'd Or thought upon, except to be blasphem'd. By these, and other wayes, the ••hurch doth lose Much honor, to the glory of her so••s, And our great sham•• and losse: for, her decayes Shall be this Realmes disprofit, and dispraise. God hath a controversie with our La••d; And, in an evill plight affaires do stand. Already we doe smart for doing ill; Yet, us the hand of God afflicteth still,

And many see not; as many be So wilfull, that his hand they will not see. Some, plainly view the same, but nothing care: Some, at the sight thereof amazed are Like Balthazar; and have a trembling heart, Yet, will not from their vanities depart. About such matters, other some are loth Their thoughts to busie (meerely out of sloth) Like him, who rather would in hazard put His life, then rise from bed the doore to shut. Some, dreame that all things doe by chance succeed, And that I prate more of them then I need. Bu••, Heav•••• and Earth, to witnesse I invoke, That, causlesly, I nothing here have spoke. If this, oh sickly Iland, thou beleeve, And for thy great infirmity shalt grieve, And, grieving of thy follies make confessions; And so confesse thine infinite transgressions, That thou amend those errors: God shall then Thy manifold distempers cure agen; Make all thy skarlet sins as white as snow, And cast his threatned judgement on thy foe. But, if thou (fondly thinking thou a••t well) Shalt sleight this Message, which my Muse doth tell, And scorne her counsell; If thou shalt not rue Thy former wayes; but, frowa••dly pursue Thy wilfull course: then, harke what I am bold, (In spight of all thy madnesse) to unfold. For, I will tell thy Fortune; which, when they That are unborne, shall read, another day; They will beleeve Gods mercy did in••••se Thy Poets brest with a prophetick Muse. And know, that he this Author did prefer, To be from him, this Iles REMEMBRANC••R.

If thou, I say, oh Britaine! shalt retaine Thy crying sinnes, thou dost presume in vaine, Of Gods protection. If thou stop thine eare, Or burne this Rowle, in which recorded are Thy just Inditements; it shall written be With new additions, deeply stampt on thee With such Characters, that no time shall race Their fatall image, from thy scarred face. Though haughtily thou dost thy selfe dispos••, Becau••e the Sea thy borders doth enclose. Although upon the Rocks thy neast is plac'd; Though thou among the Stars thy dwelling hast; Though thou encrease thy ships; and unto that Which is thine owne, with King Iehosophat, Ioyne Ahabs forces. Though thou watch and ward, And all thy Ports and Havens strongly guard; Although thou multiply thy inland forces, And muster up large troups of men and horses▪ Though like an Eagle, thou thy wings display'st, And (high thy selfe advancing) p••oudly say'st; I sit aloft, and am so high, that none Can ••etch me from the place I rest upon. Yea, though thou no advantages didst want, Of which the glorioust Emperies did vaunt; Yet, sure, thou shalt be humbled and brought low; Ev'n then, perhaps, when least thou fear'st it so. Till thou repent, provisions which are made For thy defence, or others to invade, Shall be in vaine; and still, the greater cost Thou shalt bestow, the honor that is lost Shall be the greater; and thy wasted strength, Be sick of a Consumption, at the length. Thy Treaties, which for peace or profit be, Shall neither peace, nor profit, bring to thee.

Or, if thy Counsels prosper for a while, God will permit it, onely to beguile Thy foolishnesse; and tempt thee on, to run Some courses, that will bring his Iudgement on. Yea, all thy winnings shall but fewell be, To feed those follies that now spring in thee; And make (with vengeance) those the more enrag'•• Who shall for thy correction be engag'd. What ever threatned in Gods Book ha••h bin, Against a wicked people for their sin, Shall come on thee: His hand shall be for ill, On ev'ry Mountaine, and high-raised Hill. Thy lofty Cedars, and thy sturdy Oake••, Shall feele the fury of his thunder-stroakes. Vpon thy Ships, thy Havens, and thy Ports, Vpon thy Armes, thy Armies, and thy Forts, Vpon thy pleasures and commodities, Thy Crafts mechanick, and thy Merchandize; On all the fruits, and cattell in thy fields, On what the Ayre, or what the Water yeelds, On Prince, and People; on both weak, and strong▪ On Priest, and Prophet; on both old, and yong; Yea, on ea••h person, place, and ev'ry thing, The plague it hath deserved God shall bring. What ever thou dost hope, he frustrate shall; And, make what e're thou fearest, on thee fall. This pleasant soyle, wherein such plenty growes, And where both milke and honey overflowes, Shall for thy peoples wickednesse be made A Land as barren, as what never had Such plenties in it. God shall drive away Thy pleasant Fowles, and all those Fish that play Within thy waters; and for whose great store Some other Nations would have prais'd him more.

Those Rivers, that have made thy Vallies rich, Sh••ll be like sh••ames of ever-bu••ning Pitch. Thy dust, ••s Br••mstone; fields as hard and dry As i••on is; the Fi••mament, on high, (••••ke b••ass••) shall yeeld thee neither raine nor dew, The ••ope of wasted blessings to renew. A leann••ss••, shall thy fatnesse quite devoure; Thy Wheat shall in the place of wholsome flowre, Yeeld nought but bran. In stead of grasse and corne, Thou shalt in times of harvest, reap the thorne, The thistle, and the b••yar. Of their shadowes Thy Gr••ves shall robbed be. Thy flowry Medowe•• Shall sterile waxe. There shall be seldome seene Sheep on thy Downes; or Shepherds on the greene. Thy walks, thy gardens, and each pleasant plot, Shall be as those where men inhabit not. Thy Villages, where goodly dwellings are, Shall stand as if they unfr••quented were. Thy C••ies, and thy Palaces, wherein Most neatnesse and magnificence hath bin, Shall heaps of rubbish be; and (as in those Demolisht Abbies, wherein Dawes, and Crowes, Now make their nests) the bramble, and the nettle, Shall in their halls, and parlou••s, root, and set••le. Thy Princes houses, and thy wealthy Ports, Now fill'd with men of all degrees and sorts, Shall no inhabitants in them retaine, But some p••ore Fisherman, or country Swaine, Who of thy glories, when the marks they see, Shall wonder wha•• those mighty ruines be; As now they doe, who old foundations find, Of Townes and Cities, perisht out o•• mind. The places where much people meetings had, ••hall vermine holes, and dens for beasts be made.

Or wal••s for Sprights, who from those uncouth room•• Shall fright the passenger, which that way comes. In stead of mirth and l••ughter, lamentation Shall there abide: and, loathsome desolation, In stead of company. Where once was heard Sweet melody, men shall be made afeard With hideous cries, and howlings of despaire. Thy very Climate, and thy temp'rate ayre, Shall lose their wholsomnesse, for thy offences; And breed hot Fevers, Murraines, Pestilences, And all diseases. They that now are trained In ease, and with soft pleasures entertained; In stead o•• idle games, and wanton dances, Shall practise how to handle guns, and launces: And be compell'd to leave their friends embraces, To end their lives in divers uncouth places; Or else, thy face, with their owne blood defile▪ In hope to keep themselves, and thee, from spoile. Thy beautious Women (whose great pride is more Then theirs, whom Esay blamed heretofore) In stead of paintings, and of costly sents, Of glittering gems, and pretious ornaments, Shall weare deformity about their faces; And, being rob'd of all their tempting graces, Feele wants, diseases, and all such like things, Which to a wanton Lover lothing brings. Thy God, shall for thy overflowing vices, Scourge thee with Scorpions, Serpents, Cockatrices, And other such; whose tailes with stings are armed, That neither can be plucked forth, nor charmed. Thou shalt not be suffiz'd when thou art fed; Nor shalt thou suffer scarcity of bread And temp'rall food alone; but, of that meat, Whereof the faithfull soule desires to eate.

That curse of ravenous beasts, which God hath said, Vpon a wicked kingdome shall be la••d, He will inflict on thee. For, though there be No Tygers Lyons, Wolves, or Beares in thee, By beastly minded men (that shall be farre More c••uell then those bloody spoilers are) Thou shalt be torne: For, each man shall assay His fellow to devoure as lawfull prey. In stead of Lyons, Tyrants thou shalt breed, Who nor of Conscience, nor of Law take heed; But, on the weak mans portion lay their paw, And, make their Ple••sures, to become their Law. In stead of Tigers, men of no compassion, A furious, and a wilfull generation, Shall fill thy borders. Theeves, and outlawes vile, Shall hunt the wayes, and haunt the woods for spoile▪ As Beares, and Wolves. A subtile cheating crew (That will with tricks and cousnages pursue The simpler sort) shall here encrease their breed▪ And, in their subtleties the Fox exceed. That hoggish herd, which alwayes rooting are Within the ground, and never upward reare Their grunting snouts; nor fix their eyes on heav'n▪ To look from whence their daily food is giv'n: Those filthy swinish livers, who desire To feed on draffe, and wallow in the mire; Those, who affect ranke pudles, more then springs; To trample and despise most precious things; The holy to prophane; Gods herbs of grace To nouzle up; his Vineyard to deface; And such like harmes to doe: these spoile thy fields, Marre worse, then those wilde Bores the desart yeelds. If thou remaine impenitent, thou art Like Egypt; and, so stony is thy heart.

For w••ich obduratenesse, those plagves will all Descend on th••e, wh••ch did on Egypt fall Blood, Frog••, and Lice, great swarms of uncou••h Flies, Th'infectious M••rraine, whereof Cat••le dyes; Boiles, Scab••, and Bl••ine; fierce H••il, & Thunder-storm••; The ••ocust, and all fruit devouring Wormes. Grosse Darknesse, and the Death or those that be Thy Darlings; all those Plagues shall fall on thee, According as the Letter doth imply, Or, as in mystick sense th••y signifie. Thy purest Rivers God shal•• ••u••ne to blood; With ev'ry Lake, that hath beene swe••t and good. Ev'n in thy nostrils he shall make it stinke▪ For, nothing shall thy people eate or drinke▪ Vntill their owne, or others blood it cost; Or, put their lives in hazard to be lost. Most loathsome Frogs; that is, a race impure▪ Of base condition, and of birth obscure. (Ev'n in unwholsome fens, and ditches, bred) Shall with a clownish rudenesse over-spread Thy pleasant'st fields; thy fairest roomes possesse; And make unwholsome (by their sluttishnesse) Thy kneading troughs, thy ovens, and that meat, Whereof thy people, and thy Princes eat. This hatefull brood, shall climbe to croak and sing, Within the lodging chambers of the King. Yea, there make practice of those naturall notes, Which issue from their evill-sounding throats: To wit, vaine brags, revilings, ribaldries, Vile slanders, and unchristian blasphemies. The Land shall breed a nasty Generation, Vnworthy either of the reputation Or name of men. For, they as Lice shall feed Ev'n on the body whence they did proceed;

Till poverty, and sloven••y, and sloth, Have quite disgrac'd them, and consum'd them, both▪ There shall, moreover, swarmes of divers Flies, Engendred be in thy prosperities, To be a plague: the Flesh flye shall corrupt Thy savory meats; Musketoes inte••rupt The weary traveller; thou shalt have Drones, Dor••s, Hornets, Wasps, and such l••ke angry-ones, Who represent that sw••rme whose buzzing tongues (Like stings) are used in their neighbours wrongs▪ And, still are flying, and still humm••ng so, As if they meant some weighty wo••ks to do, When as, upon the common stock they spend; And nought performe of that which they p••etend. Thy Butter-flies shall plague thee too; ev'n those, Who waste their Lands and Rents, in gawdy clothe••, Or idle flutterings; and then spawne their seed, Vpon thy goodly'st flow'rs, and he••bs to feed. As Beasts destroyed by the Murraine be, So, they that are of beastly life in thee, By lewd example shall infect each other; And in their foule diseases ••ot toge••her. On all thy people, of what so••t soe're, Shall scabs, and biles, and running sores appeare, The fruits of their corruption. Yea, wi••h paines (Within their conscience, and with scars and blaines Of outward infamy) ••hey shall be grieved; And, in their to••tures perish, unreli••ved. Tempestuous stormes, upon this Ile shall fall, Hot Thunder-bolts, and Haile-stones therewi••hall; Men▪ either too too ho••, or too too cold; Or else lukewarme. But, few or none sha••l hold A rightfull temper: and, these meteors will Thy borders with a thousand mischieves fill.

The Locust also and the Palmer wro••es, Shall prey on what escapeth f••om the Stormes: Not they alone, which on the grass•• do breed; Bu••, also, they who fro•• the ••it proceed Which hath no bottome: and, when any thing Doth by the dew of heav'n begin to spring, They shall devoure the same, till they have left thee, Nor leafe nor blossome; but, of all bereft thee. Then, shall a darknesse follow, far more black, Then when the light corporeall thou dost lack. For, grossest Ignorance, o'reshadowing all, Shall in so thick a darknesse thee inthrall, That, thou a blockish people shalt be made, S••ill wandring o•• in a d••ceiving shade; Mistrusting those that saf••st paths are showing; Most trusting them, who counsell thy undoing; And aye ••ormented be with doub••s and feares, As one that o••tcries, in darke places heares. Nor shall the hand of God from thee returne, Till he hath also smo••e thine eldest-b••rne. That is, till he hath taken from thee qu••te, Ev'n that whereon thou se••••t thy whole delight; And filled ev'ry house throughout this Nation, With deaths unlooked for, and lamentation. So great shall be thy ruine, and thy shame, That when the neighb'ring kingdomes hear the same Their eares shall tin••le. And when that day comes, In which thy follies must re••eive their doom••s; A day of clouds, a day of gloomin••sse, A day of black despaire, and heavinesse, It will appeare. And, then thy vanitie••, Thy gold, thy silver, thy confederacies, And all those reeds on which thou hast depended; Will faile thy trust, and leave thee unbefriended.

Thy King, thy Priest, & Prophets, then shal mourn; And, peradventure, f••inedly ••e••u••ne To beg of God to succou•• them: but, they Who will not ha••k•• •• ••his voice to day, Shall c••y unh••ede••: and he will despise Their v••wes, thei•• prayers, and their sacrifice: A sea of troubles, all thy hopes shall swallow: As waves o•••• wav••s, so plague on plague shall follow: And, ev'••y thing that was a blessing to thee, Shall turne to be a curse, and helpe undo thee. Thy Sov'raignes have to th••e thy Fathers bin; By meanes of them hath peace been•• k••pt within Thy sea-gi••t limits: they, thy weale befriended, The blessed Faith they stoutly h••ve defended: And, thou hast cause of goodly hopes in him, Who hath, of late, put on thy Diadem. But know, that (till thou shalt repent) no part Belongs to thee of what is his desert. His princely vertues, to his owne availe, Shall profit much: but, they to thee shall faile. To thee his clemency shall seeme severe, His favours all, shall injuries appeare; And when thy sin is fully ••ipe in thee, Thy Prince and People, then, alike shall be. Thou shalt have Babes to be thy Kings; or worse▪ Those Tyrants who by cruelty and force Shall take away thy ancient freedomes quite, From all their Subjects; yea▪ themselves deligh•• In their vexations: and, all those that are Made slaves thereby, shall murmur, yet not dare To stir against them. By degrees, they shall Deprive thee of thy patrimonies all; Compell thee (as in other Lands, this day) For thin•• owne meat, and thine owne drink to pay.

And, at the last, begin to exercise Vpon thy sonnes, all heathnish tyrannies, As just Prerogatives. To these intents, Thy Nobles shall become their instruments. For, they who had their bi••th from noble races, Shall (some and some) be brought into disgraces: From offices they shall excluded stand: And all their vertuous off-spring, from the Land, Shall quite be worne: in stead of whom shall rise A brood advanced by impieties, By flattery, by purchase, and by that Which ev'ry truly-noble one doth hate. From stems obscure, and out of meane professions▪ They shall ascend and mount by their ambitions, To seats of Iustice; and those Names to beare, Which honor'd most within these Kingdomes are▪ And being thither got, shall make more strong Their new-built Greatnesse, by encreasing wrong: To those, will some of these themselves unite, Who by their births to Lordly Stiles have right; But, viciously confuming their estate, Did from their fathers worths degenerate. By this Confederacy, their nobler bloods Shall countenance the others ill got goods; The others wealth againe, shall keep from scorne Their beggery, who have beene nobly borne: And, both together, being else unable, (In their ill course to make their standing stable) Shall seek how they more great, and strong, may grow By compassing the publike over-throw. They shall abuse thy Kings, with tales, and lyes; With seeming love, and servile flatteries. They shall perswade them they have pow'r to make Their Wils, their Law▪ and as they please to take

Their peoples goods, their children, and their lives, Ev'n by their just and due Prerogatives. When thus much they have made them to beleeve, Then, they shall teach them practices to grieve Their subjects by; and, instruments become To helpe the screwing up, by some and some, Of Monarchies ••o Tyrannies. They shall Abuse Religion, Honesty, and all, To compasse their designes. They shall devise Strange projects; and with impudence, and lyes, Proceed in setling them. They shall forget Those reverent usages, which do befit The majesty of State; and raile, and storme, When they pretend disorders to reforme. In their high Counsels, and where men should have Kind admonitions, and reprovings grave, When they offend; they shall be threatned there, Or scoft, or taunted, though no cause appeare. It is unseemly for a Iudge to sit And exercise a jibing Schoole-boyes wit Vpon their trades, or names, who stand before Their judgement se••ts: but, who doth not abhor To heare it, when a Magistrate objects, Birth, poverty, or personall defects In an upbraiding wise? Or, who with me Derides it not, when in out Courts we see Those men, whose bodies are both old and weake, (Forgetting gr••ve and usefull things to speake) Vent Giant•• words▪ and bristle up, as tho Their very breath could armies overthrow▪ Whereas (poore we••klings) were there in their place•• No more authority, then in their faces, Their persons, or their language, all their chasing▪ And threatning, nothi•••• would effect but laughing.

For, unto me big looks, and crying hoh, As dreadfull seemes, as when a child cryes boh To fright his Nurse: yea, such a bug beare fashion Effecteth nought but scornfull indignation. But in those times (which neare•• are then some Suppose perhaps) such Rhetorick will come To be in use; and arguments of Reason, And just proceedings, will be out of season. Their wisdome shall be folly; and, goe nigh To bring contempt on their Authority. Their Counsell-Table shall a snare be made, And those 'gainst whom they no just matter had▪ At first appearance, shall be urg'd to say Some word or other, e're they part away, Which will betray their innocence to blame, And bring upon them detriment and shame: Yea, many times (as David hath of old, Concerning such oppressors, well foretold) To humble crouchings, and to fained showes, Descend they shall, to worke mens ove••throwes▪ And, what their subtlety doth faile to gaine▪ They shall by rigour, and by force obtaine. What ever from thy people they can teare, Or borrow, they shall keep, as if it were A prize which had beene taken from the Foe: And, th••y shall make no conscience what they do To prejud••ce Posterity. For, they To gaine their lust, but for the present day, Shall with such love unto themselves endeavor, That (though they knew it would undoe for ever Their owne posterity) it shall not make Those Mo••••ters any better course to take. Nay, God shall give them up for their offences, To such uncom••ly reprobated senses:

And, blinde them so, that (when the a••e they see Ev'n hewing at the root of their owne tree, By their owne handy strokes) they shall not griev•• For their approaching fall: no, nor beleeve Their fall approacheth; nor assume that heed Which might prevent it, till they fall indeed. Thy Princes, Brittain, in those dayes, will b•• Like roaring Lyons, making prey of thee. God shall deliv••r thee into their hand, And they shall act their pleasure in the Land▪ As once his Prophet threatned to that Nation▪ Which doth exemplifie thy Desolation. Thy Kings (as thou hast wallowed in excesse) Shall take delight in drinke, and wantonnesse. And, those whom thou dost call thy Noble-o••es Shall to the very marrow, gnaw thy bones. Thy Lawyers wilfully shall wrest thy Lawes▪ And (to the ruine of the common Cause) Shall mis-interpret them, in hop•• of grace From those, who may dispoile them of their place▪ Yea, that whereto they are obliged, both By Conscience, by their Calling, and their Oat•• To put in execution; they shall feare, And, leave them helplesse, who oppressed are. Thy Prelats in the spoyle of thee shall share; Thy Priests, as light shall be, as those that are The meanest persons. All their Prophecies▪ Or preachings, shall be heresies and lyes. The word of truth in them shall not remaine, Their lips no wholsome knowledge shall retaine▪ And all his outward meanes of saving Grace, Thy God shall cary to another place. Mark well oh Brittain! what I now shall say, And doe not sleightly passe these words away;

But, be assured that when God beginnes, To bring that vengeance on thee, for thy sinnes, Which hazzard will thy totall overthrow, Thy Prophets, and thy Priests shall sliely sow The seeds of t••at dissention, and sedition, Which Time will ••ipen for thy sad perdition. Ev'n they, who forme••ly, were of thy peace The happy instruments, shall then increase Thy troubles most. And▪ ••v'n as when the Iewes Gods truth-presaging Prophets did abuse, He suffred those who preached in hi•• Name, Such falshoods as the chiefest cause became Of their destruction: so if thou go on To make a scorne (as thou hast o••ten done) Of them who seeke thy wel are, hee will send False prophets, that shall bring thee to thine end, By saying all things thou wouldst have them say: And lulling thee asleep in thine owne way. If any brain-sick Fellow, whom the Devill Seduceth to inflict on thee some evill, Shall coyne false Doctrines, or perswade thee to Some foolish course that will, at length, undoe The Common-weal: his counsell thou shalt follow; Then, cover'd with his bait, a hooke shalt swallow To rend thine entrailes: and thine ignorance Shall, also for that mischiefe, him advance. But if that any lover of thy weale, Inspir'd with truth, and with an honest zeale, Shall tell thee ought pertaining to thy good, His Messag••s shall stiffly be withstood: That Seer shall be charged not to see; His word shall sleighted as a po••sherd be; His life shall ••e traduced, to disgrace His Counsell••; or, his errant to debase:

In stead of recompence, he shall be sure, Imprisonments, or threatnings to procure▪ And, peradventure (as those Prophets were, Who did among the Iew••sh Peers declare Their States en••r••ities) h••s good intention May be so wrong••d, th••t he, by some invention, May lose his li••e, wit•• publ••ke shame and hate, As one that i•• a trouble•• o•• ••he State. But, not unl••sse ••he ••riest thereto consent: For in tho••e ••aye•• shall ••••w men innocent Be g••iev'd (t••r••••••h any qu••••ter of the Land) In which thy C••e••g••e ••hall not have some hand. If ever in thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉, (as God ••orbid) The blood of t••in•• owne children shall be shed By civill discord, they sha••l blow the flame, That will become thy ruine, and thy shame. And thus it shall be kindled. When the times, Are nigh at worst▪ and thy encreasing crimes Almost compleat; the Devill shall begin To bring strange crotchets, and opinions in Among thy Teachers; which will breed disunion▪ And interrupt the visible communion Of thy establisht Church And, in the steed Of zealous Pastors, (who Gods flock did feed) There shall arise within thee, by degrees, A Clergy, ••hat shall more desire to fleece, Then feed the flock. A Clergy it shall be, Divided in it selfe: and they shall thee Divide among them, into sev'rall factions, Which rend thee will, and fill thee with distractions▪ They all in outward seeming shall pretend Gods glory, and to have one pious end: But, under colour of sincere devotion, Their study shall be temporall promotion▪

Which will among themselves strange quarrels make Wherein thy other Children shall partake. As to the Persons, or the Cause, they stand Affected, even quite throughout the Land. One part of these will for preferment strive, By lifting up the King's prerogative Above it selfe. They shall perswade him to Much more then Law or Conscience bids him do▪ And say, God warrants it. His holy Lawes They shall pervert, to justifie their cause; And, impudently wrest, to prove their ends, What God, to better purposes, intends. They shall not blush to say, that ev'ry King▪ May doe like Solomon, in ev'ry ••hing, As if they had his warrant: and shall dare Ascrib•• to Monarchs, rights that proper are To none but Christ; and mixe their flatteries, With no lesse grosse and wicked blasphemies, Then Heathens did: yea, make their Kings beleeve, That whomsoever they oppresse or grieve, It is no wrong; nor fit for men oppressed, To seeke by their owne Lawes to be red••essed. Such counsell shall thy Princes then provoke, To cast upon thee Rehoboams yoake. And, they not caring, or not taking heed How ill that ill-advised King did speed, Shall m••ltiply thy causes of distraction. For, then, will of thy Priests, the other faction Bestir themselves. They will in outward showes, Those whom I last have mentioned, oppose. But, in thy ruine▪ they will both agree, As in one Center, though far oft they b•• In their Diameter. With lowly zeale, An envious▪ pride they s••ily shall conceale▪

And, as the former to thy Kings will teach Meere Tyranny: so shall these other preach Rebellion to the People▪ and shall straine The word of God, Sedition to maintaine. They shall not feare to say, that if thy King Become a Tyrant, thou maist also fling Obedience off; or f••om his Crowne divorce him▪ Or, by the ter••or of drawne swords enforce him. Which false Divinitie, shall to the Devill Send many soules and bring on thee much evill. Oh! be thou therefore watchfull; and when e're These Lambs with Dragons voyces doe appea••e, Repent thy sinne, or t••ke it for a token, That some great Bulwark•• of thy peace is broken, Which must be ••oone repair'd or els, all The greatnes o•• thy glory, downe will fall. Take heed of those false prop••ets, w••o will strive Betwixt thy Prince and People to cont••ive A disagreement. And, what euer come, Thy due Allegeance never sta••t thou from. For (their oppressions though we may withstand By pleading Lawes, or Customes) not a hand Must move against them, save the hand of God▪ Who makes a King, a Bulwark, or a Rod, As pleaseth him. Oh! take ye therefore heed Yee People, and yee Kings (that shall succeed) Of these Impostors. Of the last beware Yee Subjects: for, their Doctrines hellish are. And though they promise Liberty and peace, Your Thraldome, and your Troubles they'll increase. Shun oh! yee Kings the first; for, they advise What will your Crownes and honors prejudice. When you doe thinke their Prophecies befriend you, They doe but unto Ramoth-Gilead send you,

Where you shall perish; and poore Micahs word, Though lesse esteem'd more safety will afford▪ They will abuse your piety, and all Your vertues. To their wicked ends they shall Apply the Sacred Story; or what ever May seeme to further their unjust endevor. Ev'n what the son of Hann••h told the Iewes, Should be their scourge (because they did refuse The sov'raignty of God, and were so vaine To aske a King which over th••m might raigne A•• heathen Princes did) that curse they shall Affirme to be a Law Monarchiall Which God himselfe established to stand Throu••hout all ages, and in ev'ry land. Which is as good Divinity, as they Have also taught, who doe not blush to say That Kings may have both Wives and Concubines; And, by that Rule whereby these great Divines Shall prove their Tene••, I dare undertake (If ••ound it hold) that I like proofe will m••k•• Of any Iewish Custome, and devise Authority for all absurdities. But, false it is. For, might all Kings ••t pleasure (As by the right of royaltie) make ceasure Of ••ny mans possessions: why I pray Did Ahab grieve, that Naboth said him nay? Why made ••e not this answer thereunto, (If what the Proph••t said some Kings would do, We••e justly to ••e done) Thy Vineyard's mine; And, at my pleasure, Naboth, all that's thine Assume I may. Why, like a Turky-chick, Did he so foolishly ••row sullen sick, And get poss••ssion by a wicked fact Of what might have beene his by royall act?

Thus God is pleas'd, to humble and to raise: Thus, he by sev'rall names, and sev'rall wayes, The world doth govern. Yea, thus, ev'n in one nation, And in one State, he makes much alteration In formes of Governme••t; oft changing that Which is but acc••dentall to a State. And, such his Iustice, and his Wisdome is, That he preserveth by the meanes of this, Those things which doe essentially pertaine To that great Power, which over all doth raigne. Nor is he pleased thu•• it should be done In States that meerely civill are alone▪ But, also, in the Churches governments, Allowes the change of outward accidents. Yea, they to whom he gives the oversights Of some particular Church, may change old Rites, The Customes, Formes, or Titles, as occasions Are off••ed them; or, as the Times, or Nations, Require a change: provided so, that they Take nothing which essentiall is, away; Nor adde what shall repugne or prejudice Gods Lawes, his Kin••dome, or the Liberties Of them that ar•• his people. For, in what Hath any Church a pow••r, if not in tha•• Which is indifferent? Or, in what I pray Will men the C••urch authority obey, If not in such like things? O••, who should be The Iudge what is indifferent, if not she? A private Spirit knowes what be••t agrees With his owne fancy; but the Church best se•• What fit•• t••e Congregation. From what gives Offence to one▪ anothe•• man receives Much comfort: and, his conscienc•• edifies, By disciplines, which many doe despise▪

A Parish is a little Diocesse; And, as of Cities, Townes, and Villages, A B••shoprick consists: so, that doth rise By ••ythings, Hamlets, and by Families. And lit••le diffrence would be in the same, (Excepting in the la••genesse and the name) I•• their opinions were allow'd of all, Who savour not the stile Epis••opall: Fo••, ev'ry Priest would then usurp the same Aut••ority, wher••of o•• some hate the name. Yea, many a one would then his Parish make A little Popedome, and upon him take (Con••ide••ing his mean•• pow'r) as much as h•• That V••ive••s••ll Bishop claimes to be: And, prove more p••oud, and troublesome, then they Against whose Lordlinesse they now inveigh. This therefore is my Rule; that Government (What e're it be) in which to me God ••ent My birth and breeding; that, untill my end, I will obey, and to my pow'r d••fend. Yea, though it tyrannize, I will denay No more obedience, then by Law I may: Ev'n by those Lawes and Customes which do stand In force, and unrepealed in that Land. What right another had, e're I was borne, Or how, or for what sinne, Gods hand hath torne His Kingdome from him, I will never care; Let them go answer that who Subjects were, (When lost it was) and had that meanes, and calling, And yeares, which might prevented have his falling. Or should another Country take me home As one of hers; when thither I did come I would nor seek, nor wish to innovate The Titles, or the Custome•• of that State,

To what some other Countries better thought: But, leave such things to those to whom I ought. And, there, if any Faction shall constraine That I one pa••t must take, I will maintaine What bore the Sov'raignty when I came thither; And, I and that will stand and fall together. The same obedience, also, keep I shall. To governments Ecclesiasticall Where e're I come; if nothing they command Which doth Gods word, ess••ntially, withstand: Or, indirectly, or directly, thwart His glory, or the purity pervert Of Ch••istian Principles; nor further strife, Nor c••use, nor countenance an evill life. The Hye••archy, here, I will obey, And reverence, while I in England stay. In Sco••land if I liv'd, I would deny No due respect to their Presbyterie. G••neva should I visit, I would there 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my selfe to what their customes were. Yea, wheresoe'••e I am, I will suppose The Spirit in that Church much better knowe•• What best that place befitteth, then I do: And, I will live conformed thereunto, In ev'ry thing that's me••rly politick, And injures not the Doctrines Catholick. To ev'ry temp'rall pow'r I'le be the same, By whatsoever cognizance, or name, M••n please to call it. If I should be sent To Poland, where a mixed government Establisht is; I would not t••ll them, there, That any other Custome better were. Were I in Switzerland, I would maintaine ••••mocrity; and, think to make it plaine,

That for these Times, those Can••ons, and that Nation. There could not be a better Domination. In Venice, far before a Monarchy I would p••efer an Aristocratie. In Spái••e, and France, and in Great Britaine here, I hold no Governments more perfect are Then Monarchies. And, if Gods will should be, Bene••th a Tyrant to envassaile me, I would p••rswade my selfe, that heavy yoake Were best, for some respects; and, to the stroke Ev'n of an i••on Mace would subject be, In body▪ with a minde that should be free From his inforcement, (••f he did withstand, Or bid me what Gods Law doth countermand.) There is, I know, a middle-way that lyes Ev'n just betwixt the two extremities, Which to sedition, and to faction tend. To find which tract, my whole desire I bend; And wish it follow'd more. For, if we tread That harm••••sse path, we cannot be mis-led; Nor sham'd, though blam'd we be. To ev'ry man I faine wou••d give his due; and all I can I doe endeavor it. I would not wrong My Country; neither take what doth belong To Cesar: nor infringe, or prejudice, The Vniversall Churches liberties; Nor for her outward Discipline prefer Or censure, any Church particular; Or any State, but as befit it may, His Muse, which nought but needfull truths doth say. Nor have I any purpose to withdraw Obedience, or respect from any Law That's positive; or, to dishearten from Those Customes, which a Christian state become.

If such Divinity, as this were true, The Queen•• should not have needed to pursue Poore Naboth, as she did; or, so contrive His death; since by the Kings Prerogative, She might have got his Vineyard. Nor would God Have scourg'd that murther with so keene a rod, O•• Ahab, had he asked but his due. For, he did neither plot, nor yet pursue The murther; nor (for ought that we can tell) Had knowledge of the deed of Iezabel. Till God reveal'd it by the Prophet to him. Nor is it said, that Naboth wrong did do him, Or disrespect; in that he did not yeeld, ••o sell, or give, or to exchange his Field. The Iewish Commonwealth did so instate, That, their possessions none could alienate, But for a time; who ever, for his mony, Or in exchange, desir'd their patrimony. And▪ doubtlesse, we offend, who at this day Those Freedomes give, or lose, or sell away, Which were in common right possest of old, By our Forefathers; and, continue should To all their after-commers. For, altho We may dispose of what pertaines unto Our persons: yet, those dues which former ages Have left unto us for our heritages, (And whereunto, the child that borne must be, Hath ev'ry whit as good a right as we) Those dues we should preserve with all our might, By pleading of our just and ancient right, In humble wise; if so the Sov'raigne state Our Freedomes shall attempt to violate. But, when by peacefull meanes we cannot save it, We to the pleasure of the King must leave it,

And unto God our Iudge: For all the pow'r In us, consists in saying, This is our. A King is for a blessing, or a ••urfe: And therefore though a F••ole he were, or worse, A Tyrant, or ••n Ethnick) no man may So much as in their p••ivate clossets, pray Against his person; though they may petition Against the wickednesse of his condition. Nor, is this ••uffrance due to those alone, Who ••••bject are unto a Monarchs throne, But, from all those who either subjects are To mixed Governments, or popular. For, though irregularities appeare In ev'ry State; because but men they are Whom God exalts to ••ule: yet, it is he By whom all Governments ordained be. And ev'ry Government (although the Name Be different) is in effect the same. In Monarchies, the Counsell (as it were An Aristocracy) one while doth beare The sway of all▪ and though they name the King▪ Yet, him they over-rule in ev'••y thing. Sometime a••••ine, the pop••lar voice we see, Doth awe the Counsell, when in them there be Some pop'lar Spirits. Aristocracies Are otherwhile the same with Monarchies. For, one great man among them gets the pow'r, From all the rest, and like an Emperour, Doth act his pleasure. And we know tis common. To have some foolish Favorite, or Woman, To governe him. So, in a pop'lar State, Affaires are manag'd by the selfe same fate; And, either one or moe, away do steale The peoples hearts, and sway the Commonweale.

Thus God is pleas'd, to humble and to raise: Thus, he by sev'rall names, and sev'rall wayes, The world doth govern. Yea, thus▪ ev'n in one nation, And in one State, he makes much alteration In formes of Governmen••; oft changing that Which is but accedentall to a State. And, such his Iustice, and his Wisdome is, That he preserveth by the meanes of this, Those things which doe essentially pertaine To that great Power, which over all doth raigne. Nor is he pleased thus it should be done In States that meerely civill are alone; But, also, in the Churches governments, Allowes the change of outward accident••. Yea, they to whom he gives the oversights Of some particular Church, may change old Rites, The Customes, Formes, or Titles, as occasions Are offred them; or, as the Times or Nations, Require a change: provided so, that they Take nothing which essentiall is, away; Nor adde what shall repugne or prejudice Gods Lawes, his Kin••dome, or the Liberties Of them that are his people. For, in what Hath any Church a pow••r, if not in ••hat Which is indifferent? Or, in what I pray Will men the Church authority obey, If not in such like things? O••, who should be The Iudg•• what is indifferent, if not she? A private Spirit knowes what be•••• agrees With his owne fancy; but the Church best se•• What fit•• the Congregation. From what gives Offence to one; another man receives Much comfort: and, his conscience edifies, By disciplines, which many doe despise▪

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Nor h••ve I any thought to scandalize, Or speake amisse of Principalities; Or, to traduce mens persons: but, I fall On errors of mens lives in generall, And, on those great Abuses, which I see To blemish ev'ry Calling and Degree. Of Dignitie•• and Persons, I observe All me••nes I can, their honors to preserv••, When I reprove their faults. And, ev'n as he That hunteth Foxes, where Lambes feeding be, May fright that harmlesse flock, and suffer blame Of some By-standers, (knowing not his Game) When from his Dog••, those Innocents are free, And none but their devoure••s bitten be. So, though my reprehensions, often are Mistook by foolish Readers; they are far From repr••hending those, or taxing that Which is unfitting for my shooting at. I speake those things which will advantage rather Then harme: and hence this blinded age may gath••r M••ch light. This little Volume doth relate Nought else but what is like to be our Fate; If sin encrease; and what in former times Did fall on other Nations for their crimes, I utter what our welfare may encrease, And helpe confirme us in a happy peace; Which they will never compasse, who p••••sue To speake what's pleasing, rather then what's true. How ever, here my thoughts deliv'red be: Let God as he shall please, deliver me. And if what here is mention'd, thou dost he•••• (Oh Britaine!) in those times that sh••ll succeed, It may prevent much losse, and make thee shun Those mischiefes, whereby Kingdomes are undone.

But, to thy other sins, if thou shalt adde Rebellions (as false Prophets will perswade) Which likely are to follow, when thou shalt In thy profession of Religion halt: Then, will thy Kings and People scourge each other, For their offences, till both fall together: By weakning of your pow'rs, to make them way, Who seeke and look for that unhappy day. Then, shall disorder ev'ry where abound, And neither just nor pious man be found. The best shall be a Bryer or a Thorne, By whom their neighbours shall be scratcht & to••••e. Thy Princes shall to nothing condiscend For any merit just, or pious end; But either for encreasing of their treasure, Or for accomplishing their wilfull pleasure: And un••o what they ••ell or daigne for meed, There shall be given little trust or heed. For, that which by their words confirme they shall, (The royall Seales uniting therewithall) A toy shall frustr••te; and a gift shall make Their strictest O••ders no effect to take. The Iudge, without a bribe, no Cause shall end: No man shall trust his bro••her, or his friend: The parents and the children shall despi••e And hate, and spoile each other: she that lies Within her husbands bosome, shall betray him: They who thy people should protect, shal stay them: The aged ••hall reg••r••ed be of none: The poore shall by the rich be trodden on: Such grievo••s inf••olencies, everywhere Shall acted be; that good and bad shall feare In thee to dwell; and, men discreet shall h••te To be a Ruler, or a Magistrate;

When they behold (without impenitence) So much injustice, and such violence. And, when thy wickednesse this height shall gain, To which (no doubt) it will e're long attaine▪ If thou proceed: Then, from the bow that's bent (And halfe way dr••wne already) shall be ••ent A mortall arrow; and it pierce thee shall Quite through the head, the liver, and the gall. The Lord shall call, and whistle from af••rre, For those thy enemies that fiercest are: For those thou fearest most; and they shall from Their Coun••ries, like a whi••le wind hither come. They shall nor sleep, nor stumble, nor untie Their garments, till within thy fields they lye. Sharp shall their arrowes be, and strong their bow. Their faces shall as full of horror show As doth a Lions. Like a bolt of thunder, Their troups of horse shall come, & tread thee und••r Their iron feet. Thy foes shall eate thy bread, And with thy flocks both clothed be, and fed. Thy Dwellers, they shall cary from their owne, To Countries which their fathers have not known••▪ And, thither shall such mischiefes them pursue, That they who seeke the pit-fall to eschew, Shall in a snare be taken. If they shall Escape the sword, a Serpent in the wall To death shall sting them: yea (although they hap To shun a hundred plagues) they shall not scape; But, with new dangers, still be cha••'d about, Vntill that they are wholly rooted out. The Plowman, then, shall be afraid to sow; Artificers their labour shall forgoe▪ The Merchant man shall crosse the Seas no more▪ (Except to flye and seeke some other shore)

Thy ablest-m••n shall faint: thy wise-ones, then, Shall know themselves to be but foolish men. And th••y who built and plant••d by oppression, Shall leave their gettings to the foes possession. Yea, God wil scourge thee, England, ••even times more With seven times greater Plagues then heretofore. Then, thy Allies their friendship shall withdraw; And, they that of thy greatnesse stood in awe, Shall say (in scorne) Is this the valiant Nation, That had throughout the world such reputation, By victories upon the shore? Are these That people, which were masters of the s••as, And grew so mighty? yea that petty Nation, That were not worthy of thy indignation, Shall mock thee too; and all thy former fame, Forgot shall be, or mention'd to thy shame. Mark how Gods pl••gues were doubled on the I••ew•• When they his milde corrections did abuse: Marke what, a•• last upon their Land h•• sent; And, look thou for the se••e same punishment, If them thou imitatest. I or their sin, At fi••st, but eight yeares Bondage they were in. Their wick••dn••sse grew more; and God did then, To Eglon, make them sl••ves, ••ight yeares and ten. They dis••beying, still, the God of heaven; Their yeares of Servitude were twenty seven, To Iabin and to Midian. Then, prevailed Philistia fo••ty yea••es; and, when that failed, To make ••hem of their evill wayes rep••nt, There was, among themselves, a fatall rent; And, they oft scourg'd each other. Still, they trod The selfe same path; and, then the hand o•• God Brought Ashu•• on them; and, did make them beare His heavy yo••ke, untill the seventie••h yeare.

And last of all the Rom••ne Empire came, Which from their Country rooted out their Name. That foolish project which they did embrace, To keep them in possession o•• their place, Did lose it. And, like Cain, that vagrant Nation, Hath now remain'd in fearfull Desolation Nigh sixteene hundred yeares: and, (whatsoe're Some l••tely dreame) in vaine, they look for he••e A temp'rall Kingdome. For, as long agoe Their Psalmist said; No Prophet doth foresh••w This ••hraldomes end. Nor shall it end untill The Gentiles their just number doe fulfill: Which is unlike to be untill th••t houre▪ In which there shall be no more temporall pow'r, Or temporall K••ngdome. Therefore▪ gather them (Oh Lord▪) unto thy new Ierusalem, In t••y due time. For, ye••, unto that p••ace They have a promi••t right, by thy meere grace. To those who shall repent, thy firme Electiòn Continues in this t••mpo••all rejection. Oh! ••hew thy mercy in their desol••••ion, That thou maist honor'd be in th••ir salvation. Yea, teach us also, by their fearfull fal, To hea••ken to thy voice, when th••u do••t ca••l; (Lest thou in anger, unto us protest, That we ••h••ll never come into thy rest) For, we ••ave follow'd them in all their sin: Su••••, and so m••••y, have our warnings bin: An••▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou st••••l prolong not thy compassion▪ To us belongs the selfe same Desolation. And it will ••ho••tly come▪ with all those terror•• T••at were on them inflicted, for their errors. Then, woe shall be to th••m, th•••• hereto••ore By joy••••••g house to hou••••, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the poore▪

And field have into field incorporated, Vntill th••ir Tow••esh••ps were depopulated. For, desolate their dwelling shall be made: Ev'n in their blood the Lord shall bathe his blade: And they that have by avarice, and wiles, Erected Pallaces and costly Piles; Shall think, the stones and timbers, in the wall, Aloud, to God, for vengeance on them call. Then, woe sh••ll be to them who early rise To eate, and drinke, and play, and wanton••ize; Still adding sin to sin: for, they the paine Of cold, and thirst, and hunger, shall sustaine; And be the servile slaves of them that are Their Foes; as to their Lusts they captives were. Then▪ wo to them who d••rknesse more have lov'd Then l••ght; and good advice h••ve d••s••pprov'd: For, they shall wander in a crooked pa••••, Which neit••er light▪ nor end, nor c••m••ort hath And, when for Guides, and Couns••ll they do cry, Not one sh••••l pity them, who p••sseth by. Then, wo to them that have corrupted ••in, To justifie the wicked in his sin; Or, for a bribe, the righteous to condemne: For, fl••mes (as on the chaffe) sha••l seize on them: Their bodies to the dun••hill shall be cast; Their flowre shall turne to dust; their flock shal wast▪ And all the glorious t••••les they have wo••ne, Shall but encrease their infamy and scorne. Then, wo to them that have beene rais'd aloft By good mens ruines; and by laying soft And easie pillowes, under great mens armes, To make them pleas'd in their alluring charmes. Then, wo to them, who being growne a••raid Of some nigh perill, sought unlawfull aid;

And, setting Gods protection quite aside, Vpon their owne inventions have rely'd. For, God their fo••lish hopes will bring to nought; On them, their feared mischiefe sh••ll be brought▪ And, all their wit and strengt••, shall not suffi••e, To heave that sorrow off, which on them lies. Yea, then, oh Britaine! woe to ev'ry one, That hath without repentance evill don••: For, those who doe n••r heed, no•• beare in mind His visitings, Gods reaching hand will find; And they with howling cries and lamentation, Shall sue and seeke, in vaine, for his compassion. Because they car••lesse of his M••rcies were, Till in consuming wrath he did ••ppea••e. But, still, we set far off that evi••l day; In dull security we passe away Our pretious time; and with v••ine hopes and toyes, Build up a trust which ••v'ry puffe destroyes. And therefore, still when healing is expected, New and unlookt for troubles are effected. We gather Armies, and we Fleets prepare; And, then, both strong and safe we think we are. But, when we look for victories, and glory, What followes, but events that make us sory? And tis Gods mercy that we turne our faces With so few losses, and no more disgraces. For, what are most of those whom we commend Such act••ons to; and whom we forth do send To fight those Battels, which the Lords we call, But, such as never fight for him at all? Whom dost thou make thy Captaines, and dispos•• Such Offices unto, but unto those (Some few excepted) who procure by friends▪ Command and pay, to serve their private ends?

Their la••guage, and their practices decla••e, That entertained by Gods Foe they were. Their whoring, swearing, and their drunkennesse, Do far more plainly to the world expresse What Generall they doe belong unto, Then all their Feath••rs and their Ensignes doe. These, by their unrep••nted sins, betray Thy Cause. By these, the honor, and the day Is lost: and when thou hopest tha•• thy trouble Shall have an end, thy danger waxeth double. We wisht for Parlia••ents; and them we made Our God: ••or, all t••e hope that many had To remedy the publike discontent, Was by t••e wisdome of a Parli••ment. Well; Parliaments we had; and what in being, Succeedeth ye••, but greater disag••••eing, With g••eater gri••va••ces then heretof••re? And reason good: for, we depended more On outward meanes, then on Gods will that sends All punishments; and all afflictions ••nds. Beleeve it should our Parliaments a••ree In ev'ry motion: should our Sov'raigne be So gracious, as to condiscend to all Which for his weale and ours, propose we s••all; Ev'n that Agr••••ment, till our sins we leave, Shall make us but secure; a••d helpe to weave A snare, by whose fine threds we shall be caught, Before we see the mischie••e that is wrought. Whilst we by Parliam••nts do chiefly se••k Meere temp'rall ends, the King shall do the like: Yea, till in them we mutually agree To helpe each other; and unfained be In lab'ring for a Christian Reformation; Each Meeting shall b••get a new vexation.

This Iland hath some sense of what she ayles, And very much, these evill times bewayles: But, not so much our sinnes doe we lament, Or mourne that God for them is discontent, As that the Pla••ues they bring disturb our pleasures, Encrease our dangers, and ••x••aust our treasure••. And, for these causes, now and then we ••ast, And pray, as long as halfe a day doth last. For, if the Sunne doe but a li••tle cleare That cloud, from which a tempest we doe fear••▪ What kind of g••iefe we took, we plainly shew By those rejoycings which thereon ensue: For, in the stead of such du•• thankfu••ness••, As Christian zeale obligeth to expresse; To Pleasure (not to God) we sacrifize; Renue our sins; revive our vanities; And, all our vowed gratitude expi••es, In Games, in Guns, in Bels, in Healths, or Fires▪ We faine would be at peace; but few men go That way, ••s y••t, whereby it may be so. We have not that h••mility which must Effect it: we ••re f••l••e, and cannot trust Each other▪ no nor God with true confessions: Which shewes that we abhor not our transgression••▪ It proves, t••at ••f our errors, we in heart Repent not, neither purpose to depart F••om any f••lly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 or all they that are Sincerely penitent▪ doe nothing feare So much as t••••ir owne ••uil••; nor seeke to gain•• Oug••t more, then to be reconc••l'd againe: And, they that ar•• ••hus minded, never can Be long unreconcil'd to God, or man. When we should ••••oop, we most our selves exalt; And (though we be) would no•• be thought in fault.

Nay, tho••gh we faulty be, ••nd thought, & known, And proved so; and ••ce that we are th••owne By our apparant erro••s, into straits, From which we cannot g••t by all our sleights: Yet, still ou••selves we vau••t and justifie, And struggle, ••ill the sn••re we faster ••ye. We sin, and we to boast it have no shame, Yet s••••rme when othe••s doe our follies name: And rather then we will so much as say We did amisse (though that might wipe away The staine of all) I think that some of us So wil••ull are, so proud, and mischievous, That we ours••lves w••uld ruine, and our Nation, To keep our shadow of a Reputation. Oh! if we are thus headstrong, tis unlike We any part of our proud sailes will strike Till they have sunke our Vessell in the Sea, Or by th•• furious winde••, are torne away. Twere better▪ tho, we did confesse our wound, Then hide it till our s••ate grew more unsound. Twere better we some wealth, or office lost, Then keep them, till our lives, and all, it cost: And therefore, let us wisely be advised, Befo••e we by a tempest be surprised. Downe first with our Top-gallants and our Flags; In stormes▪ the skilfull'st Pilots make no brags. Let us (if that be not enough) l••t f••ll Our Misne-yeard, and strike our top-sailes all. If this we find be not enough to doe▪ Strike Fote-saile, Sprit-saile, yea and Main-saile too. And, rather then our Ship should sink or rend; Let's over board, ••oods, mast, and tackling send. Save but the Hull, the Master, and the Men; And we may l••ve to scoure the seas agen.

Beleeve it England, howsoever some (Who should fo••esee thy plagues before they come) End••vor to perswade thee that thou hast A hopefull time▪ and that the wo••st is past. Yet I dare bol••ly tell thee, thou hast nigh Worne out Gods patience by impiety. And, that unlesse the same we doe r••nue By penitence, our folly we shall rue. But, what am I, that me thou should'st beleeve? Or, unto what I tell thee, ••redit give? It may be this adul••rous Genera••ion Expecteth tokens of her desolation; And therefore I will give them signes of that Which they are almost now arived at. Not signes, so mysticall as most of those Which did t••e ruine of the Iewes ••isclose; But, signes as evident as are ••he day. For, know ye Britanies▪ that what God did say Ierusalems destruction should foresh••w, He spake to ev'ry State that should ensue. And, tha•• he nought of her, or to her sp••ke, For hers alone, but also for our sake. One signe that Gods long-suffring we have tired, And that ••is patience is almost expired, Is this; that many Iudgements he hath sent, And still remov'd them e're we did repent. For, God (ev'n by his Holinesse) did sweare, (Saith Amos) such a Nation ••e will teare With Brye••s, and with Fish hookes rend away The whole posterity of such as they. Cl••ane teeth (saith God) I gave them; and with bread In many places, them I scantly fed; And yet they sought me not: Then I restrained The dewes of heav'n; upon this Field I rained,

And not on that; yea, to one City came Some two or three, to quench their thirsty ••lame; Yet, to ret••rne to me, no care they tooke: With Blastings then, and Mildewes, I them strook; And mixt among their Fruits the Palmer-worme; Yet, they their lives did not a jot reforme: Then did I send the Pest••lence (said he) Devoured by the Sword, ••heir youngmen be; Their Horse are slaine, and up to heaven ascends Their stinke; yet I discover no amends. The selfe same things thy God in thee hath done, Oh En••land! yet, here followes thereupon So small amendment, that they are a signe To thee; and their sharp Iudgement, will be thine. The second Tohen which doth fore declare When Cities, States, and Realmes, declining are, Ev'n Christ himselfe hath left us: For, (saith he) When Desolation shall approaching be, Of wars, and warlike rumors ye shall heare; Rare signes and tokens will in heaven appeare; Downe from the Firmament the Stars sh••ll fall; The hearts of many men, then, saile th••m shall; There will be many scandals and offences; Great Earth quakes, Schismes, Dearths, and Pestilences; Realme, Realme; and Nation, Nation shall oppose; The nearest friends, shall be the greates•• foes. Against the Church shall many tyrannize; Deceivers, and false Prophets, shall arise; In ev'ry place shall wicked••esse abound; And, Charity shall very cold be found. This, Christ himselfe did prophecy: And we Are doubtlesse blind, unlesse con••est it be, That at this houre, upon this Kingdome here, These ma••ks of Desolation viewed are.

How often have we s••ene prodig••ous lights, O'resp••ead ••he f••ce of heav'n in moonlesse nigh••s? How many dreadfull Met••ors have there beene In this ou•• Climate, lately heard and seene? Who knoweth nor that but a while agoe A Blazing Star did threat, if not foreshow Gods Iudgements? In what age, tofore, did here So many, who did Saints and Stars appeare, Fall (as it were) from heav'n? Or who hath heard Of greater Earth-quakes, then have lately scar'd These quarters of the world? How oft, the touch Of Famine have we had? But, when so much Devou••ed by the Pestilence were we, As in this present yeare our people be? Of Wars, and martiall rumors, never more Wer•• heard within these confines heretofore; When were all Kingdomes, and all Nations through The world, so opposite as they are now? We know no Country, whether nigh or far, But is engag'd, or threatned with some War. All places, either present woes bewaile; Or else things feared make mens hearts to faile. False Prophets▪ and Deceivers we have many; We scarcely find integrity in any: The Name of Christ, begins in ev'ry place To suffer persecution ••nd disgrace; And, we the greatest jeopardies are in, Among our neighbours, and our nearest kin. Strange Heresies do ev'••ywhere encrease, Distur••ing Sion, and exiling peace. Impietie doth multiply. True love Growes cold. And, if these tokens doe not prove Our fall drawes on, unlesse we doe amend: I know not when our folly shall have end.

A third apparant signe which doth d••clare When some devouring Pl••gue approacheth neere, Is when a Nation doth anew begin To let Idolatry to enter in; And openly, or secre••ly give place To Heresie, where Truth establisht was: Or when like Ieroboam, to possesse An outward profit, or a temporall peace, They either change Religions, or devise A worship which doth mixe Idolatries With truth. For this, ev'n for this very crime, The King of Ashur, in H••shea's time Led Isr••el captive. And, both from the sight Of God; and from the house of David quite, They were c••t off for ever, and d••d neither Serve God nor Idols; but ev'n both toge••her; In such a mixt Religion as is that Which some among us, now, have aymed at. Marke, England; and I prethee marke it well, If this offence which ruin'd Israel, On thee appeare nor: and, if so it be, Amend; or looke for what it threatens thee. The fourth true token which do••h fore expresse The ruine of a Land ••or wickednesse, Is when the P••iests and Magistrates begin, To grow ext••eamly impudent in fin. This Signe, the Prophet Micah ••iveth us; And he (not I) to you cryes loudly thus: Heare, oh ye house of Iacob, and all ye That Princes of the house of Is••ael be: Ye Iustice hate; and ye pervert what's good; Ye build the wal•• of Sion up with blood; Ierusalem with sin, ye up have rear'd, Your Iudges passe their censures for reward;

Your Priests doe preach for hire, your Prophets doe Like them▪ and prop••ecy for mony too. And, for this cause shall Sion mount (saith he) Ev'n like a plowed field become to be; And like a Forre••t hill where b••shes grow▪ The City of Ierusalem shall show. Change but the names, oh Britain, and that token Of desolation, unto the•• is spoken. For, what this day thy Priests and Princes are▪ Their actions, and the peoples cries declare. A fifth sure evidence that God among Thy ruines will en••omb thy fame e're long, (If thou repent not) is ev'n this, that thou Dost ev'ry day the more ungodly grow, By how much more the blessed meanes of grace Doth multiply it selfe in ev'ry place. God sends unto thee many learned Preachers, Apostles, Pastors, and all kind of teachers; His Visions, and his Prophecies upon thee He multiplies. And (that he might have won thee To more sincerity) on all occasions, By counsell, by entreatie, and perswasions, He hath advis'd, allured, and besought thee: With precept upon precept, he hath taught thee; By line on line; by miracle; by reason; In ev'ry place; in season, out of season; By little and by little; and by much (Sometime) at once: yet is thy nature such, That still thou waxest worse; and in the roome Of pleasant Grapes, more Thistles daily come: And, thou that art so ••aughty, and so proud, For this, shal•• vanish like an empty cloud; And, as a Lion, Leopard, or a Beare, Thy God, for this, shall thee in pieces teare.

If thou suppose my Muse did this devise, Goe take it from Hosea's prophesies The sixth undoubted signall when the last Good dayes of sinfull Realmes are almost past▪ Is when the people neere to God shall draw In word, to make profession of his Law: And, by their tongues his prai••es forth declare; Yet, in their hearts from him continue far. To such a Land, their de••••iny displaye•• Isaiah: for even thus the Prophet sayes: God will produce a marvell in that State, And doe a worke that men shall wonder at; The wisdome of their wisest Counsellor, Shall perish, and their prudent men shall erre. On their deepe Counsels, sorrow shall attend; Their secret plots shall have a dismall end; Their giddy projects which they have devised, Shall as the Potters clay be quite despised. Like Carmel, Lebanon shall seeme; and he Like Lebanon, shall make mount Carmel be. Their pleasant Fields like Desarts shall appeare; And, there shall Gardens be, where Desarts are. God keep (thou Brittish Ile) this plague from thee▪ For, signes thereof upon thy Body be. Thou of the purest worship mak'st profession; Yet, waxest more impure in thy condition. Thou boastest of the knowledge of Gods word, Yet, there unto in manners to accord Thou dost refuse. Thou makest protestation Of pietie; yet hatest reformation. Yea▪ when thy tongue doth sing of praise divine, T••y heart doth plot some temporall designe. And, some of those, who in this wise are holy, Begin to shew their wisedome will be folly.

••or, when from sight their snares they deepest hide, By God Almighties eyes they are espide. The seaventh Symptome of a dreadfull blow, (If not of a perpe••uall overthrow) Is when a slumb••ing Spirit doth surprize A nation; and hath closed up their ey••s: Or when the Prophets and the Seers are So cloud••d, that plaine truths do not appeare: Or when the Visions evidently seene Are passed by, as if they had not beene: Or when, to Nations who can reade, God gives His Booke; and thereof doth unseale the leaves, And bids them reade the same, which they to do Deny; or ••lead unablen••sse thereto. Black signes are th••se. For if that Book to them, Still darke; or as a Book unsealed seeme; Or, if they heed no more what here is said, Then they that have the Booke, and cannot reade; The Iudgements, last repeated, are the doome, That shall on such a stupid Nation come. This Signe is come on us; for, loe, unsealed Gods Book is now among us▪ and revealed Are all the Mysteries which doe concerne The children of this present age to learne. So well hath he instructed this our Land, That we not only reade, but understand The secrets of his Word. The prophecies Of his chiefe Seers, are before our eyes, Vnveiled: true interpretations A••e made, and many proper applications Ev'n to our selves; yet is ou•• hea••t so blind, That what we know and see, we do not mind. We heare, and speake, and much adoe we keepe; But we as sens••lesse are as men asleep

What th••n we doe. Yea, wh••le that we are talking, What sna••es are in the way where we are wal••ing, We heed not what we say, b••t passe along; And many times, ••re fast ••••snar'd among Those mi••••hiefes, and those faults we did condemne, Before our tongues have left to mention th••m. For our negl••ct of God in ••ormer times, (Or for some present unrep••nted crimes) A slumbring Spirit ••o p••ssesseth us, That our estate is wondrous d••ngerous. We s••e and heare, and tell to one anoth••r Our perils, yet we headlong hast together To wilfull ruine: and are growne so mad, That when our friends a better course perswade, Or seeke to st••p us (when they s••e we run That way in which we cannot ruine shun) We persecute those men with all our soule, That we may damn our s••lves without controule. The eight plaine Signe, by which I understand That some devouring mischiefe is at hand, Is that maliciousnesse which I doe see Among ••rsfessors of one Faith, to be. We that have b••t one Father, and one Mother, Doe persecute, and torture one another. So ho••ly, we oppose not Antichrist, As we our fellow brethren doe resist. The Protestant, the Protestant defies; And, we our selves, our selves doe scandalize. Our Church we have exposed to more scorne; And her fai••e seamlesse Vestment rent, and torne, By our owne fury, more then by their spight Who are to us directly opposite. To save an Aple, we the Tree destroy; And, quarrels make for ev'ry needlesse toy:

From us, if any brother differ shall But in a crotcher, we upon him fall As eagerly, and with as bitter hate▪ As if we knew him for a Reprobate. And, what event all this doth signifie, Saint Paul (by way of caveat) do••h imply. Take heed (s••ith he) lest while ye bite ••ach other, You, o•• your selves, consumed be ••ogether. Another S••gne which cau••eth me to feare That our confusion is approaching neere, Are those Disunions whi••h I have espide, In Church and Commonwealth, this pr••sent tide. We cannot hide th••se rents; for they doe gape, So wide, that some their Iaw••s can hardly scape. Would God, the way to close them up we knew, Else, what they threaten, time will shortly shew: For, all men know, a City or a Land, Within it selfe d••vided, ca••n••t stand▪ The last black signe that here I will repeat, (Which doth to kingdomes desolation threat) Is when the hand of God Almighty brings The pe••ple, into bondage, to their Kin••s. I say, when their owne K••ng shall take delight, Those whom he should protect, to rob, and smite. When they who fed the Sheep▪ the Sheep shall kill, And eate them; and suppose they doe no ill. When God gives up a Nation unto those That are their neighbours, that they may, as foes, Devoure them. When (oh England!) thou shalt see This come to pa••se, a signe it is to thee That God is angry; and a certaine token That into pieces thou shalt quite be broken: I•• not by so ra••ne strength, by force at home; A••d, that thy greater torment will become.

This Vengeance, and this fearfull preparation, Of bringing ruine on a sinfull N••tion, (If they remaine impenitent) the Lord Doth menace; and, by Zachary ••ecord, To make us wise. Oh! let us therefore learne▪ What now is comming on us, to discerne. For, (well considered if all thing•• were) From this Captivity we seeme not farre. It now already seeme•• to be proj••ct••d; Nay, little wants of being quite effected. For, they that are our Sheph••••rds, now, are they That fleece us, and endevor to betray Our lives and freedomes. Those g••eat men that be Our nei••hbours (and can claime no more then we) Would sell us: and, att••mpt to gaine a pow'r, Whe••eby they may, at pleasure, us d••voure: And, h••d not we a King, as loth to make His people slaves, as from hims••lfe to take His lawfull right; (or, were there not some lett Vnheeded, which is unremov••d yet) E're this (and justly too) the hand of heaven Into perpetuall bondage us had given. And, if we do not more Gods will regard, That mischiefe is but for a time deferr'd, Our King is just and mercifull; and th•• Some may (with loyall, and a gilded s••ow Of pious equity) a while ••ssay To lead his judgement in his youth astray; Yet, God (I hope) will keep him so, that he Shall still be just, (though we ungodly be) And, make him in the fitteft houre expresse His royall Iudgement, and his Right••ousnesse: But, if God should from us (as God forbid) Take him, as once he good Iosiah did,

He also will (unlesse we mend) perchance, In times to come, a Shepheard here advance, Who shall not plead for what his Youngmen say Is just; but, take the same, perforce, away. An Ido••l Shep••eard, who shall neither care To find or seek, for those that strayed are; Nor guard the Lamb••; nor cure what hath a wound; Nor cherish those that fi••me to him are found; But, take the fat, and rob them of their fleeces; And eate their flesh; and b••eak their bones in peeces. More Signes I migh••, as yet, commemorate, To shew Gods pa••••ence is nig•• out of date. But, these are signes enough▪ an•• so apparant, That twenty more w••ll give no better warrant To what I speake. Yet, if these ••••lse appeare, That's one signe more, our fall approacheth neere. Be mind••ull, therefore, while it is to Day; And, let no good occasion slip away. Now rend your hearts, ye Britains, wash & rinse them From all corruption: from all evill clense them. Goe offer up the pleasing sacrifice Of Righ••eousnesse: from folly turne your eyes. Seeke peace, and follow it, with strict pursuit: Relieve the needy; Iudgement execute: Refresh the weary; right the fatherlesse: The strangers, and the widowes wants redresse: Give praise to God; depend with lowly faith, O•• him; and what his holy Spirit saith: R••member what a price thy ransome cost; And, now redeeme the time that thou hast lost. Returne, ret••••ne thou (oh back-sliding Nation) And, let thy teares prevent thy desolation. As yet, thou maist returne; for, Gods embrace Is open ••or thee, if thou hast the grace,

To give it meeting▪ Yet, repentance may Prevent the mischiefes of that evill day, Which here is menace'd: yet, thou maist have peace, And by dis••reet endeavo••ing, enc••ease Each outward grace, and ev'ry inward thing▪ W••i••h will additions to thy comfo••t bring. If this thou doe; these fea••full threatnings all, (Repea••ed h••re) to mercies change he shall. We cannot say, it will excuse thee f••om All cha••••isement; or that no blow shall come. For, peradv••nt••re, thou so long hast bin Vnpe••i••ent, that some loud-cring sin Hath wak'd that V••ngeance, which upon thy crimes Mu••t fall (as once in Ier••mi••hs 〈◊〉〈◊〉) Without pr••vention; to ex••mplifie Gods hate of sin to all posterity. But, sure we are, that if he doth not stay H•••• threa••ned hand, the stroke that he doth lay Will fall the lighter; and become a bl••ssing, Thy future joyes, and vertues more encreafing▪ Then all that larg•• prosperity and rest Which thou, so long tog••ther, hast possest. God (wi••h a wr••ters ••••ke horne) one hath sent, To set a marke on th••m that shall repent; And bids him promi••e in his N••me, that they Who shall (recantin••) leave their evill way, And in th••ir heart••, bewaile the grievous crimes, And miserie•• of Sion, in their times; That they shall be secure, and s••••ed ••rom The hand of these D••stroye••s▪ which must come: Or else by their dest••ucti••n find a way To that repairing which will ne••re d••cay. Yea thou, oh Britaine! if thou couldst reforme Thy manners, might'st expell the dreadfull storme

Now threatned; and thy foes (who triumph would, The ruine of thy glory to behold▪ And jeere thee when thou fallest) soone s••all see Thy God returning, and avenging thee On their insultings: yea, with angry blowes He would effect their shamefull overth••owes. Or turne their hearts. For when from sin men cease, God makes their enemies, and them, at peace. Moreover, thou shalt have in thy poss••ssing, Each inward grace▪ and ev'ry ou••ward blessing; Thy fruit••ull H••rds shall in ••ich pastures feed; Thy soile shall plentiously encrease thy seed; Thy Flock, shall neither Shepherds want nor meat; Cleane provander, thy stabled beast shall ••at••; There shall be Rivers in thy Dales; and Fountaines Vpon the tops of all thy noblest Moun••aines: The Moone shall cast upon thee beames as bright As now the Sunne; and with a sevenfold l••ght The Sun shall bl••sse thee▪ He that reignes in thee, To all his p••ople reconcil'd shall be; And they shall find themselves no whit deceived, In those good hopes which are of him conceived: But he, (and they, wh•• shall his throne possesse When he is gone) shall reigne in righteousnesse; And be more carefull of thy weale (by far) Then parents of their childrens p••ofits are Thy Magistra••e••, with wisdome shall proceed In all that shall be cou••ell'd or decreed. As Harbours, w••en it blowes tempestuously; As Rivers, unto places over-d••y; As Shadowes a••e to men opprest with heat; As to a hungry stomac••, wholsom•• meat; To thee, so welcom••, and as much con••enting, Thy Nobles will become, on thy repenting.

Thy Priests shal preach true doctrine in thy Teples; And make it fruitfull by their good examples. Thy God, with righteousnesse shall them aray, And heare and answer them, when they do pray. Thy eyes, that much are blinded, shall be cleare; Thy ea••es that yet are deafned, then shall heare; Thy tongue, that s••āmers now, shall then sp••ak plain; Thy heart shall perfect understanding gaine; The preaching of the Gospell shall encrease; Thy God shall make thy comforts and thy peace, To flow as doth a River; they who plant, The blessing of their labour shall not want; Thy poorest people shall at full be fed; The meek, shall of no ty••a••t stand in dread; Thou shalt have grace and knowledge, to avoid Those things, whereby thy r••st may be annoid; T••ou shalt poss••sse thy wished bl••ssings all; And, God shall heare thee still before thou call. But, as a Chime, wh••se ••rets disord red grow, Can never cause it selfe in t••ne to goe, Nor chime at all, untill some cunning hand Doth make the same againe in order stand: Or, as the Clock, whose plummers are not weight, Strike•• sometimes one for three, and sixe for eight; So fareth it with men and kingdomes all, When once from their integrity they fall. They may their motion ••urry out of frame, But have no pow'r to r••ctifie the same That curious hand which first those pieces wrought, Must mend them still; or they will still be nought. To thee I therefore now my speech convert, Thou famous Artist, who Creator art Of heav'n and ea••th, and of those goodly spheares, That now have whirled many thousand yeares,

(And shall untill thy pleasure ••ives it ending) In their perpetuall motion, without mending. Oh! be thou pleased, by thy pow'rfull hand, To set in order this depraved Land. Our whole foundation, Lord, is out of course; And ev'ry thing still groweth worse and wor••e; The way that leads quite from thee, we have tooke; Thy Covenant, and all thy Lawes are b••oke; In mischiefes, and in folly, is our pleasure; Our crying sins have almost fill'd their measure; Yet, ev'ry day we adde a new transgressi••n, And still abuse thy favour and compassion. Our Governors, our Prelats, and our Nobles, Have by their sins encrease, encreast our trou••les. Our Priests, and all the People, have misgone; All kind of evill deeds, we all have done. We have not lived as those meanes of ••race Require, which thou hast gra••ted to this place: But ••ather wo••se then many who have had Less•• helpes then we, of being better made. No Nation under heav'n so lewd hath bin, That had so m••ny w••rnings for their sin, And such perpetuall callings on, as we, To leave our wickednesse, and turne to thee. Yet, we in stead of turning, further went; And when thy Mercies and thy Plagues were sent To pull us backe; they seldome wrought our stay, Or moved to repentance one whole day. No blessing▪ no affliction, hath a pow'r To move compunction i•• us, for one houre, Vnlesse thou worke it. All that I can speake (And all that I have spoken) till thou breake And mollifie the heart, will fruitlesse be, Not onely in my hearers, but in me.

I•• thou p••epare not way for more esteeme All these Remembrances will foolish seeme. Nay these, in stead of moving to repent, Will indignation move and discontent; Which will mens ha••dned hearts obdurate more, And make their fault much greater then before. Vnlesse thou give a ••lessing, I may strive As well to make a marble stone alive, As to effect my p••rpo••e: yea, all this Like wholesome counsell to a mad man is, And, I for my good meaning shall be torne In pieces, or exposed be to scorne. ••or, they against thy word doe stop their eare; And, wilde in disobedience, will not heare. In this, we all confesse ourselves to blame, And that we therefore have deserved shame. Yea, Lord we doe acknowledge, that for this There noth••ng else to us pertaining is, (Respecting our owne worth) but desolation, And finall ••ooting ou••, without compassion. But gracious God, though such our merit be, Yet, ••ercy f••ll pertaineth unto thee. To thee the act of pard'ning and forgiving, As much belongs (oh Father everliving) As plagues to us: and it were better far Our sinnes had lesse then their deservings are, Then that thy Clemency should be outgone, By al•• the wickednesse that can be done. As well as theirs whose lives now left them have, Thou ca••st command those bodies from the gr••ve, Who slink, and putrifie, and buried be In their corruption. Such, oh Lord! are we. Oh! call us from this grave; and shew thy pow'r Vpon this much polluted Land of our,

Which is not only sick of works unholy, But almost dead and buried in her folly. Forgive us all our slips, our negl••gences, Our sins of knowledge, and our ignorances; Our daring wickednesse; our bl••ody crimes; And all the faults of past and p••esent times. Permit not thy just wrath to burne for ••ver; In thy displeasure doe not still persever; But, call us from that pit of Death, and Sin, And from that path of Hell which we are in. Remember, that this Vineyard hath a Vine, Which had her planting by that hand of thine. Remember, when from Egypt thou remov'dst it, With what entire affection, then, thou lov'dst it. How thou didst weed and dresse it heretofore; How thou didst fence it from the forrest Bore; And think▪ how sweet a vintage then it brought, When thy first worke upon her thou hadst wrought▪ Remember, that without thy daily care, The choicest plants, soone wilde and fruitlesse are; And, that as long as thou dost prune and dresse, The sowrest Vine sh••ll bring a sweet ••ncrease. R••member, also Lord, how still that Foe, W•••• fi••st pu••sued us▪ doth seek to sow His ••ares among thy wheat; and to his pow'r, B••eak down•• thy fence, and trample, and devoure The seeds of grace, as soone as they doe sprout; And is to•• strong, for us to keep him out. O••! let not him prevaile, such harme to do us, As he desires, but, Lord, re••urne unto us. Returne in mer••y. Though thou find us slack To come our selves, f••tch, draw, and pull us back From our owne courses, by thy grace divine, And set, and keep us, in each way of thine.

We from our foes have saved beene by thee; And in thy love, oh Lord! triumphed we. But now behold, disgrac'd thou throw'st us by, And we before our adversaries flye. A•• us our neighb••ring Nations laugh and jeere, And, us they ••co••ne, whom late we made to feare. Oh God a••ise, reject us not for aye; No longer hide from us thy face away: But, come, oh come with speed to give u••aid, And let us not be lost though we have straid. Vouchsafe that ev'ry one in his degree, The secret errors of his life may see; And, in his l••wfull calling▪ all his dayes, Pe••forme his Christian duty, to thy praise▪ Give peace this troublous age; for, perilous The times are growne, and no man fights for us But thou oh God! nor do we seek or crave, That any other Champion we may have. Nay give us troubles, if thy will be ••o, That we may have thy strength to beare them too; And in affliction thee more glorifie, Then heretofore in our prosperity. For when thy countenance on us did shine, Those Lands th••t boasted of their corne and wìne, Had not that joy which thou di••st then inspire, When we were boyld and fryde in blood and fire. Oh! give againe that joy, although it cost us Our lives. Restore thou what our sin hath lost us Thy Church, in these Dominions Lord preserve In purity: and teach us thee to serve ••n holinesse and righteousnesse, untill We shall the number of our dayes fulfill. Defend these Kingdomes from all overthrowes, ••y forraine enemies, or home-bred foes.

Our King with ev'••y grace and vertue blesse, Which may thine honour and his owne encrease. Inflame our Nobl••s with mo••e love and zeale, To thy true Spouse, and to this Common w••ale. Inspire our ••lergie in their severall places, With knowledge, and all sanct••••ying g••aces; That by their liv••s and doct••ines they may reare Th••se part•• of Syon, which decayed are. Awake ••his Peo••le, give them soules that may Beleeve thy word, and thy commands obey. The Plagues deserv'd already, save them from. More wa••ch••ull make them, in all times to come. For blessings past. let hearty thanks be given. For present ones, let sacrifice to heav'n Be daily offred up. For what is needing (Or may be usefull in the time succeeding) Let faithfull prayers to thy throne be sent, With hearts and ••ands upright and innocent: And let all this the better fu••thred be, Through these Rem••mbrances, now b••ough•• by me. For which high favour▪ and emboldning thus My spirit, in a time so dangerous; For chusing me, that am so despi••able, To be employed in this honorable And great employment▪ (which I more ••steeme, Then to be crowned with a Diadem) For thy enabling me in this Embassage; For bringing to conclusion this my Message; For sparing of my l••fe, when thousands dy'd, Before, behind me, and on ev'ry side; For saving of me m••ny a time since then, When I had fo••feited my soule agen; For all those griefes and poverties, by which I am in better things made great, and rich,

Then all that wealth and honor brings man to, Wherewith the wo••ld doth keepe so much adoe: For all which thou to me on earth hast given; For all, w••i••h doth concerne my hopes of heaven; For these, and those innumerable graces, Vouchsafed me, at sundry times, and places, (Vn••hought upon) unsained praise I render: And, for a living s••crifice, I tender To thee (oh God) my body, soule, and all, Which mine I may, by thy donation, call. Accept it blessed Maker, for his sake Who did ••his offring acceptable m••ke, By giving up himselfe. Oh! looke thou no•• Vpon those blem••shes which I have got By naturall corruption; or by those Polluted acts which f••om that ulcer flowes. According to my ••kill, I have enroll'd Thy Merci••s; and thy Iustice I have told. I have not h••d thy workings in my brest; But a•• I could, their pow'r I have exprest. Among our great assemblies, to declare Thy will and pleasure, loe, I doe not f••a••e: And th••ugh by Princes I am checkt and blamed▪ To sp••ake ••he truth, I am no whit ashamed. Oh! ••hew thou, Lord, thy mercy so to me, And l••t thy ••ove and Truth, my guardians be. Forgive me all the foll••es of my youth; My f••ul••y deeds; the errors of my mo••th; The wandrings o•• my hea••t, and ev'ry one Of those good workes that I have lest undone. Forgive me all wherein I did amisse, Since thou ••mployd'st me in performing this: My d••ublings of thy calling ••e unto it; My f••are••, which oft di••heartned me to doe it;

My sloth, my negligences, my evasions, And my defe••ring it, on vaine occasions, When I had vowed that no wo••ke of mine, Should take me up, till I had finisht thine. Lord, pardon this; and let no future sin, Nor what already hath committed bin, Prophane this W••rke; or cause the same to be The lesse effectuall to this land, or me. But to my selfe (oh Lord) and others, let it So moving be, that we may ne're fo••get it. Let nor the evill, nor the good effect It takes, or puffe me up, or me deject: Or make me thinke that I the better am, Because I tell how others a••e to bl••ame: But, let it keep me in a Christian feare, Still humbly heedfull what my actions are. Let all those observations I have had, Of others er••or••, be occasions made To min•• me of mine owne. And, lest I erre, Let ev'ry man be my Remembrancer; With so much charity, as I have sought To b••ing their duties more into their thought. And, i•• in any sin I linger long▪ Without repentance; Lord, let ev'ry tongue That n••m••s me, check me for it: and, to me B••come, what I to ••thers faine would be. Oh! let me not be like those busie broomes, Which having clensed many nasty roomes, Doe make themselves the fouller: but sweet Father, Let me be like the preci••us Diamond rather, Which doth by polishing another stone, The better shape and lustre, set upon H••s owne rou••h body. Let my life be such, As that mans ought to be, who knoweth much

Of thy good pleasure. And, most awfull God, Let none of tho••e, who sp••ead of me abroad Vnjust reports, the Dev••lls pu••pose gaine, By making these my warning•• prove in vaine To those that heare them: but let such disgraces, Reflect with shame, upon their Authors fac••s, Till they repe••t. And let their scandall se••ve Within my hea••t true me••k••••sse to preserve; And that humili••y, which else, perchance, Vaine glory, ot some naturall arrogance Might ove••throw, if I should think upon (With carnal thoghts) some good my lines have done Restrai••e, moreover, them who out of pride, Or igno••ance, this Labour shall deride. Make them perceive, who shall prefer a story Composed ••or some temporall friends glory, Before those Poems which thy works declare, That vaine and witlesse their opinions a••e: And if by thee I was appointed, Lord, Thy Iudgements and thy Mercies to record, (As here I do) set thou thy mark on those, Who shall despightfully the same oppose: And let it p••••likely be seene of all, Till of their malice they repent them shall. As I my conscience have disch••rged here, Without concealing ought for love, or feare; From furious men let me preserved be, And from the scorne of ••ooles deliver me▪ Vouchsafe at length some com••orting refection, According to the yeares of my affliction. On me, for good, some to••en please to show, That they who see it, may thy bounty know; Rejoyce, with fellow-fe••ling of the s••me, And joyne with me, in praising of thy Name.

And lest (oh Lord!) some weake ones may despise My word••, because of ••uch necessities, As they h••ve b••ou••ht upon me, by their spight, Who ••o my S••udie h••ve beene opposite: Oh! give me that which may suffic••ent be, To make them know that I have served thee. And that my labours are by thee regarded, Although they seeme not outwardly rewarded. Those Honors, or that Wealth, I doe not crave, Which they affect, who most end••vored have To please the World. I onely aske to gaine But food and rayment, Lord, for all my paine; And that the ••launders, and the poverties, Wherewith my patience thou shalt exercise, Make not these Lines, or me, become a scorne, Nor leave me to the world-ward, quite forlorne. Yet, in preferring of this humble Suit, I make not my request so absolute, As that I will capitula••e, or tye ••o such conditions, thy d••ead Majesty. For, if to honour bu•• an eart••ly Prince My Muse had sung▪ it had beene impudence To p••ompt his bounty; or, to doubt he might Forget to doe my honest Labours right. Doe therefore as thou pleasest: only give Thy Servant grace contentedly to live, And to be ••hankfull, wha••soever shall In thi•• my weary Pil••rimage befall. Such thing•• thou dost command me to require, With earnest, and an absolute desire: With which I come: beseeching I may finde Thy love continue, though none else be kinde; That blessednesse ete••nall I may get, Though all I lose on earth, to compasse it;

And that, at last, when my accompt is eaven, My payment may be summon'd up in heaven. Lord, this will p••ease me: call me quickly thithe••, And pay me there my wages all together: Not that which mine by merit seemes to be; But, what by thy meere ••race is due to me.

The Conclusion.

SO now (though not so fally as I ••••ght) My Vow is paid; and to an end is brought T••is worke, for which God pleas'd my life to spare, Whe•• thousand•• round about me slaughtred were. N••w, live or dye I care rot: for I see But little useful••esse, or need of me. Because no••e knowes what God may call him to; I will not say precisely what I'le doe: But, in ••his kind of muzing, to endeavor, Or he employ'd againe, I purpose never. For, if this ••rofit not, it will be vaine For me to strike upon this st••in•• againe▪ If these doe not prevaile, I shall suppose, Words are not wanting here so much as blowes▪ And that the filthy will be filthy s••ill, Till th••y the measure of their sin f••lfill: Or, that God wil•• to f••ee us from pollution, Put some ••••••sall Plague in execution. Whi•••• ••o prevent, to him I'le humbly pray, And, whilst I live, ende••vor what I may My Cou••t••ies welfare; se••king meanes to finde, To spen•• for her availe, my dayes behinde; And lab••ring so, my Talent to employ, That I may come in••o my Masters joy. And, though (when all is done which I am able) My service will be but unprofitable:

Yet, still I will be doing, that, wh••n he Shall come, I be not idle found to be. If any blame what is or shall be done; My Conscience k••oweth I would injure none; And that I doe not meddle further, than Becommeth me that am a priva••e man, Though otherwise it seeme to those who weigh not Wh••n private men may spe••ke, and when th••y may not. The buildin•• of a Towne we doe preserre Vnto the Mason and the Carpenter; But, when it is on fire, we care no•• who Doth come to quench it, so the same he doe. And, thoug•• in setled times, the Statutes awe The ruder sort, sometime there's Martiall Law. Tis true indeed, that ordinary times, And those that are but ordinary crimes, May by the Commo•• Iustice be amended, And shoul•• not be by others repre••ended; Except it be in termes, respecting all States▪ persons, times, and sin in g••nerall. Yet (as King David sayes) If overthrowne Foundations be; what then amisse i•• done, By honest men, if God to sh••w our fall, Shall some, in extraordinary, call? We now have those that neither stand in awe Of ordinary Magistrate, or Law. Nay, Law is made a mockage, and a scorne, And, they who have appointed beene, and sworne To j••dge us by ••he Lawes, deny their pow'r, Except, when they may serv•• them to devoure. We now have sinners, who are got above The reach of men appoin••ed to reprove In ordinary course. Yea, sins have we, Which brook not, toucht, or mentioned to be:

No not so much as pray'd against, through feare Of ••ngring those that their wel willers ••re. And, this ••reat impudency daily growes So str••ng that all our freedome•• we shall lose, And Natures Lawes e're long will all be brok••n, If none shou••d speake; and therefore I have spok••n. And ••f for this I may not live as fr••e As I was borne (and as I ought to be) I hope to dye, doe malice what it can, An ho••est and a constant Englishman, Whose fall shall be no ble••ish to his Name; But, in••am•• to those, who caus••d the same. But, s••ffer this (will Politicians dreame) An••, such a president will hearten them To libellize, who wanting grace, and re••son, D••vulge t••eir sharp-fang'd Poems out of season: And they who Write for nothing but to show Their spleens, or that the world may come to know Their Facul••y, mens persons m••y abuse, And brave it thus, their boldnesse to excuse. But, wh••t is this to me? (If others will Because I have done well, be doing ill) Let them and those, whom thereby they offend, About that matter, by themselves contend. Tis fit for so••er men their swo••ds to weare, Altho••gh by drunkard th••y abus••d are. Which freedome I▪ have claim••d, and us'd you see; And from the claime will never bea••en be. In ev'ry Worke▪ some passage will d••scover To k••ow••ng men, what was the ch••ef••st mo••ver: Which ••hey who have the Spirit of d••scerning, Should marke; for, tis a matte worth the learning. And, when they find an Autho•• should be shent, Let him receive his worthy chastisement.

But, when his paines deserveth a rew••rd, Affl••ct him not, though him you nought regard. A Libeller is impudently bold, When he hath Times, or Patrons to uphold His biting Straines; and soone is he descry'd; For ••e, to strike all faults, is t••rrifi'd: And feares what perills may his act attend, If none ••e knowes save God to be his Friend. But, they who have my minde, will be so far From feare to write, although you doe not spare To punish me, that they will write the more; Make up the summe that ••anteth on my score; And, reprehensions forth so loud will thunder, That at your follies time•• to come will wonder. For, outward hopes, have not my tongue unloo••'d, Nor can my mouth by outw••rd feares be clos'd. What I have done is done: and I am ••as••d, And ••lad, how ever others will be pleas'd. Let t••em who shall p••ruse it, praise, or lau••h, Revile or s••••ffe, or threat, or sweare, or chase, All's one to me; So I within be still, Without me, let men keepe what noise they will, For, sure I am, though th••y my flesh confound, The soule, I seeke to save, shall still be sound▪ And this I know, that nor the br••t••sh rages Of ••his ••ow p••esent, or succeeding Ages, Shall root this Poeme out; but, that to all Ensuing times, the same continue shall, To be perused in this Land, as long As here they sh••ll retaine the English tongue: Or, while there shall be Errors, and offences, Disorders, Discords, Plagues, or Pestilences. And, if our evills we depar•• not from, Before the d••y of our destruction come,

This Book shall to the times that follow show, What sin•• they were which caus••d our overthrow: And testifie to others (for their learnin••) That Vengeance did not seize us without warning. If they who know the state of this our Land, Can justly say that her Affaires doe stand In such a posture as was ordinary; Or, th••t these Times the face d••e seeme to cary Which t••ey have had: or, if th••y see not here, More wants, more doubts, and ter••ors, then therewere: Or, if ••his Message (whatsoe're succedeth) Be more (or more insisted on) t••en needeth: Or, if it giveth any just suspition That thence may spring o••casions of sedition; Nay if th••t ••ll my Rea••••rs may not g••ther Good mot••ves thence, to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••edition, rather▪ And such like me••nes of r••••••ifying that Which is, or may be har••full to the State: Let me be strictly ques••••on••d, an•• blamed, And conf••r'd too; as one ••hat hath defamed Or inj••red his Country. Or, if they Who sh••ll per••se this Booke, can truly say, That I have caused this REMEMBRANCER To spe••ke l••ke ev'ry v••lgar Messenger; If any c••rcumstance ca•• prove, I bend My purposes to wo••ke my private end; Or, that I persons scandalize, o•• fl••tter; Or that I in the manner, or the matter, Resembl•• s••ch a Pamphl••ter, as feares The losing of his lib••rties, or eares: O••, that I speak•• like them who railing come, They neither ••••re at what, nor yet at whom, So they may raile; Or, if I have not sh••wed My Messages from such a Spirit flowed,

As is well knowne unto him, and whereby He can def••nd them, with good warrantly: If these, or ought like th••se things may be said, (To prove the part of an Impostor plaid) Let him who thinks he can unmask me, strive To do it, and as he shall doe, b••leeve. But if they find (which doubtlesse they shall find) Who view this Poeme with a single minde) That I have here delivered thing•• exceeding My me••ne▪ of knowledge, or my he••ps of breeding, So far, as that my Readers cannot chuse B••t know some pow'r divine d••d them infuse: If they shall find, by my confessions h••re, That I am subject to the selfe same feare Which others feele; and yet have dare•• more In some respects, then others heretofore: If they ••erceive, that I did oft desire Thro••gh frailty, from this action to retire; A••d, that I had a supernat••••••ll W••ll, My naturall Desi••es resisting st••ll, An•• forcing me, ev'n in my owne despight, That ••atter of this Volume to en••ite: If they perceive, as well per••eiue they may, That I had ma••y lets within my way, So cumbersome, as made the ••ork a••peare Scarce possible▪ to him that w••lling were; And, how God made such hindrances become More helpfull at the last, then troubl••some. If they observe, how wh••n my fortunes all At hazard lay (and were to stand or fall According to their wils, who may, with me, For this, if God forbid not a••••••y be) That I, though many did the same condemne, Did (this to finish) quite give ever them,

Which then I might have setled; had I thought Gods kingdome ought not first to have been sought. If they did know how we••l I know the rage, The sottishnesse, and malice of this age; How little conscience some doe make to kill, Oppresse, or ruinate, to get their will; Or what small meanes, or hope of friends I have, My body from their violence to save: If these, and such like things as these were heeded, All these preventions should not now have needed: For, they would see, this had not beene effected, Vnlesse Gods hand had strengthned and directed▪ And they who else my person may contemne, Would feare, that they in me would injure him. I know, some please to say, that thus I vent Bold words; because I seeke imprisonment: As if to me thereby there might arise A profit, by conceal'd G••atuities. Thus many Schismaticks indeed have done, And honest men and women prey'd upon, To charities abuse: But, God doth know That yet, with me it never hath beene so: But that my heart both scor••es and h••tes to be So false and base, as these d••e ••ensure me. I doe, and will confesse unto the praise Of him, who unto me my friends did raise, That when I did, in thrall oppressed grow, With wants, which none but G••d and I did know; And was mew'd up so close, that to no friend, I might a Prayer, or Petitio•• send, But unto God: he mov'd the hearts of some To se••d me su••cour: And, I vow, to whom, Except to him, I should my thanks repay, (For much there••f) I know not to thi•• day.

It was enough to show me, that God will In all extreames, provide things nee••full s••ill. And decently, and well did it suffice In my restraint, for all nec••ssities. But, what soe're some thinke, I brought not forth Into the world with we, one farthing worth Above my charge: but, there just eaven made Of all which from Gods bountious hand I had. For, what was more then serv'd to set me free, I gave to others, as he gave to me. Which, not in boast, I mention; but, I speake The truth, that this the more effect may take. A foo••••sh policie in me it were (For such a base uncertain••y as here Objected is) to venture as I doe The ••••sse of th••t which I had rea••ht unto F••re now: had this beene left, to settle that Which doth concerne my ••emp••rall estate. The King hath showne me favour: at this houre, I doe not know that ••an, of Name, or pow'r Whose person I envy, or disaffect, Or whom of any malice I suspe••t To me o•• mine: with me they all are friends, That w••re at odds; and to attaine my ends In my ••ff••ires, I never had a day So probable as now, if I would stay This Message: and perchance, this bring me shall In all my outward ho••es unto a fall; Yet, this shall first be told, that you may see, My Hopes are greater, then my Feares can be; And that it may be knowne, I d••e disclaime Those ends, at which most thinke I basely aime. These Arguments, as such like words as may Anticipate, I here, beforehand, say;

Not that I thinke it possible, by them To change their mindes that will this Booke contemne, For, tis not in the pow'r of Argument, Or words, to make the wilfull provident. It lieth not in honest prot••stations To overthrow malicious combinations; No nor in Miracles, till God shall please (Who of all hearts doth keepe the locks and keyes, To shut and open them▪) For they that heard And liv'd to see fulfil'd, what was declar'd By Ieremy against Ierusalem; His counsell they did nathelesse contemne, When he their slight to Aegypt did oppose; And so became of their owne overthrowes The wilfull cause. Nay, when our Saviour spake To Iudas, and that Band which came to take His person; to the ground those men he strooke Ev'n with his voice: and, on the Crosse, he shooke The Ea••th, and rent the Temple with his cry; Yet, that and all the rest was passed by Of most beholders, a if they had beene Vnsensible of what was heard and seene. I therefore, these Preventions doe insert, To aggravate the hardnesse of their heart Who shall be obstinate. And here declare What may be said or done, e're done they are; That all may know, when such things come to passe Nought fals on me, but what expected was; And that the better working this may have On those who shall Gods Messages receive ••y this Remembrancer. For, God hath sent, Though I (unworthy) am his instrument. Him, unadvisedly compos'd I not, Nor was he by a miracle begot.

To fit him for this purpose; I have thrice Imprisonment endur'd: Close-prison twice. Much trouble I have past which thence ensu'd; Through wants and slaunders not a few I s••ru'd; And, being guarded by Gods Providence, I lately walked through the Pestilen••e, And saw, and felt, what Nature doth abhor, To harden me, and to prepare me for This Worke. And therefore he, who thinkes he shall Wit•• his big lookes or speeches me appall, Must look more grim then Death; more ugly, far, Then Vizards, or the shapes of Devils are; Breathe ranker poison then a plague fill'd grave; And stamp, and rore, and teare, and stare, and rave, More dreadfully, and louder then a man Infected with six Pestilences can: Else; I (to play with terrors being borne) Shall laugh both him and all he doth, to scorne. And, though I may, perchance (as did the best Of all ••ods children when they were opprest) Sometime bewaile my suffrings, or declare That I doe feele them when their waight I beare; Yet murmur will I not, at what is laid Vpon me, neither seeke to flesh for aid. By what's here done, may trouble come upon me; But, not performing it, had quite undone me: Since, I through feare of what the world may doe, Neglected had, what God had call'd me to. For, of his calling me, the, meanes and wayes Wh••reby my weaknesse he to this did raise, Vnquestionable evidence doe give. And, they who doe not, yet, the same beleeve, Will think the same, perhaps, when they shall see Themselves enclosed with new Plagues to be.

Thus I beleeving, a••d considering, What fearlesnesse this act therewith doth bring, (With what assurances, I doe possesse) Me thinks it were a matchlesse wickednesse To disobey. Yea sure, I more in that Wrong'd God, then I shall seeme to wrong the State▪ In uttring what some few are loth to heare. How ever divers thinke; this is my feare. Yea, to my soule, so horrible a thing The wilfull disobeying that great King Appeared hath; that, n••ver should I sleepe In peace againe, if I did silence keepe. And therefore, neither all the royall graces Of Kings; nor gifts, nor honourable places, Should stop my mouth. Nor would I smother this, Though twenty Kings had sworne that I should kis••e The Gallowes for it: lest my Conscience should Torment me more, then all men living could. Yea, though this minde were but my ignorance, Or fancy (as it will be thought, perchance) Yet, since this Fancy may present to me As hideous feares, as things that reall be, I'le hazard rather twenty deaths to dye, Then to be tortur'd by my Fantasie. For, I had rather in a dungeon dwell Five yeares; then in my soule to seele a hell Five minutes: and, so God will be my friend, I shall not care how many I offend. And, yet, (now I remember) troubled is My heart a little, for one thing amisse Which I have done. This M••ssenger hath bin Long time kept out; and I did thrust him in Without a Licence; lest he comming late, Might shew you a Commission out of date.

I could excuse the fact, and lay the crime Vpon the much disorder of the time: For, most men know, that in a Watch or Clock•• When it is out of order once or broke, The wheeles that are unfaul••••e move awry As well as they in whom the faults doe lye. But, that you may not thinke I doe professe Against the State, as wholly mercilesse, Or that I thinke it nothing to misdoe Against good Order, though compelld th••••eto; For this I aske forgivenesse; and submit My selfe to them, who shall in judgement sit Vpon the fact. For which if I obtaine My Pardon, I shall humbly entertaine Their favours with my thankefullest respects, And, hope this Message will have good effects. If otherwise I finde; my Body shall Be ready to subject it selfe to all Their strictest Penalties: and when I am Enough affl••cted for what is to blame In this, or me: I know, God will release By Body, or my Soule, againe in peace. To him alone, for Patronage, I run: Lord, let thy pleasure, and thy will be done.

The glory be to God.