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 Pleasures.

IN all things an immoderated use Breeds a distate; and man, when grown prosuse, Doth glut himself with Pleasure: He that's wise Esteems them chiefly for their novelties. The pleasure of the body gives relief No otherwise than adding grief to grief. When Jupiter (as ancient Poets fain) With all his might and art could not attain Two great Antagonists to reconcile, Pleasure and Sorrow, having paus'd a while He took an Adamantine Chain, with that Bound them together, so that then they sat As fixt Companions: They that were unstable But just before, were made inseparable. Affection propagates our Pleasures growth; Vertue's an Antidote against them both.

Pleasure is the Adulterate brat of Sense, So very fading, she cannot dispence To last while Artists shall her Picture frame, And therefore Memory preserves her name. All those delights that do the Senses please, Are one days age, an Ephemerides. What excellence may that be said to be, Which the most excellent (as dangers) slee? Time with the Pleasures of this World is spilt, Full of the stain of fin, and sting of guilt. Hannibal his honour lost, and duty, Being entangled with a womans beauty. Antonius his Cleapatra had; Both were most valiant Captains: but the sad Effects of Lust did like a Cloud o'recast All their Archievements, and their labours blast. Lust is the bane of Kingdoms: done alone, It would more common be than any one Of all those Vices that corrupt the eye; Heathens the first place give to Piety. And Trismegistus this assertion brings, Religion is the ground of publick things. God did not cast man out of Paradise, That man might make another by advice. Be therefore wary, during time and leisure, 'Tis dangerous to take delight in Pleasure: For 'tis a Syren doth deceive us all; It gives us dainties, but they're mix'd with gall. The Pitch and Tar of Sin so close do cleave, That Pleasure waiteth only to deceive. Riches seem pleasant things to banish Care, But are at best but an intangling Snare. Our Meat and Drink, when taken with excess, Breaks forth to Surfeitings and Drunkenness. Silver and Gold seem pleasant things, yet they, Like thieves, from God do steal our hearts away. That man that loveth pleasure shall he poor; But God's right hand hath pleasures ever more.