Prison-pietie, or, Meditations divine and moral digested into poetical heads, on mixt and various subjects : whereunto is added a panegyrick to the right reverend, and most nobly descended, Henry Lord Bishop of London / by Samuel Speed ...

¶ On the Conscience.

COrruption now adays doth spring so fast, So regarded, And rewarded, That if my tender Conscience would be sold, Or if for it a Dispensation Could be but got, I doubt it not, I'd store up wealth in this our Nation. One spark of Flattery would so increase My evil goods, So that my woods Would make a lasting fire, when I decease.

The World's fond love might easily be bought, If I could tell The way to sell The little honesty that I have got. Were but this World my home, perhaps I might Be apt to trade, But here things fade: Give me the Riches wherein Saints delight. Though now I live in a corrupted Cell Which doth annoy, I would enjoy The peace of Conscience there where Angels dwell. Love upon Earth is good 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that doth last; But the choice love Of God above Is everlasting, and doth never wast. Tush, wicked World, Heav'n is my Merchandize; If in my way My sight should stray, My home shall be the curtains of mine eyes. A desp'rate fate it is the Worldlings run, A Pearl to sell To purchase Hell: They must be great, or to be just undone.