Emblemes by Fra: Quarles

The Entertainement.

ALL you whose better thoughts are newly born, And (rebaptiz'd with holy fire) can scorn The worlds base trash, whose necks disdain to beare Th'imperious yoke of Satan; whose chast eare No wanton Songs of Syrens can surprize With false delight; whose more than Eagle-eyes Can view the glorious flames of Gold, and gaze On glittring beames of Honour, and not daze; Whose soules can spurne at pleasure, and deny The loose Suggestions of the flesh; draw nigh:

And you, whose am'rous, whose select desires Would feele the warmth of those transcendent fires, Which (like the rising Sun) put out the light Of Venus starre, and turne her day to night; You that would love, and have your passions crown'd With greater happinesse than can be found In your own wishes; you, that would affect Where neither, scorn, nor guile, nor disrespect Shall wound your tortur'd Soules; that would enjoy, Where neither want can pinch, nor fulnesse cloy; Nor double doubt afflicts, nor baser Feare Vnflames your courage in pursuit; draw neare:

Shake hands with earth, and let your soule respect Her Ioyes no further than her Ioyes reflect Vpon her Makers Glory, if thou swim In wealth, See him in all; See all in Him: Sink'st thou in want, and is thy small Cruise spent? See Him in want; Enjoy ••im in Content: Conceiv'st Him lodg'd in C••oste▪ or lost in paine? In Pray'r and Patience find Him out againe▪ Make Heav'n thy Mistresse, Let no Change remove Thy loyall heart: Be fond; be sick of Love: What if he stop his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 knit his Brow? At length hee'l be as fond, as sick as thou: Dart up thy Soule in Groanes: Thy secret Grone Shall pierce his Eare, shall pierce his Eare, alone: Dart up thp Soule in vowes; Thy sacred Vow Shall find him out, where heav'n alone shall know: Dart up thy Soule in sighs: Thy whispring sigh Shall rouze his eares, and feare no listner nigh: Send up thy Grones, thy Sighs, thy closet Vow; There's none, there's none shall know but Heav'n and thou: Grones fresht with vowes, and vowes made salt with teares, Vnscale his eyes, and scale his conquer'd eares: Shoot up the bosome Shafts of thy desire, Feather'd with Faith, and double forkt with Fire, And they will hit; Feare not, where heav'n bids Come: Heav'ns never deafe, but when mans heart is dumbe.