PRO. 21. CAP.

Euery way of a man, is right in his owne eyes: but the Lord God pondreth their hearts.



LIKE A STORME-beaten-ship, with many vnfor­tunate conflicts (in my long-some journeyes) here and there haue I still beene tossed, till now at last I haue arriued to the safe harborie of your Lord­ships favour: being sore fatigated in my trou­blesome trauailes, I am very eagerly willing to be comforted with the rare fruites of your Ho­nours admired Engine, who with a most gene­rous spirit, can temper thy greatnes with benig­nitie, thy Majestie with meekenesse, thy Heroy­ick minde with courtesie, thy Noble hand with liberalitie, and thy Herculian-heart with cle­mencie, such is the inestimable ritches (of thy re­nowned [Page] worth) which hath made (and still makes) conquest of many hearts. O what can I say of my selfe (who without any merit in mee) hath so often felt the force of your Lord­ships loue, I am sorie that I shall neuer be able to value the ritch treasure of such great de­sert: Good will is all my wealth, and yet my seruice (bound by dutie) craues no thanks. Than most worthie (to be named worthy) Lord, re­ceaue these my Labours as the true tributarie effects of my affection, the beholding of this Humorous world, the strange alterations of Time, and the inconstant wauering of my euer­changing Fortune, will afforde mee no other Subject, it may truly be saide, Fortuna vi­trea est, quae cum splendet frangitur. My peregrinations enlarged my curiositie, my soul­diers estate promised to preferre mee, and the smiles of Court stuffed my braines with manie idle suppositions. Heere abruptly must I needes breake off, fearing least the great occasion of this discourse, make mee forget my selfe, and be­come tedious in reckoning vp my losse of Time. So in my neuer-ending-loue, I end, wishing your Lordships valour, good fortune, your estate [Page] all happinesse, and that your Honours discre­tion may sepulchrise this boldnesse of

Your Lordships euer-obedient seruant, SIMION GRAHAME.


GReat is the worth of thy triumphing Fame,
With Faith, Hope, Loue, in thy sweet soule in­shrind,
A endlesse world shall eternise thy name,
And crowne the glorious vertue of thy mind.
Thy feruent faith to Christ is so inclind,
Which makes ritch hopes vp to the Heau'ns aspire
From thence thy loue, descends in ruthfull kinde,
And helps the poore in their distress'd desire.
Long may thou liue, and long may God aboue
Increase, confirme, reward, faith, hope, and loue.


IN A FEARELES HV ­mor, I haue anatomized the humors of mankinde, to the mouth of the honest man, it hath a most delicate and sweet taste, but to the wicked, it is bitter as gall or wormwood, for if thou be a dissembling hypocrite, one of the sect of fleshly and bloudie Gospellers,Math. 7. Chap. one of the generation of Wolues cloathed in sheepe-skins, which are naught else, but hatchers of deceit, to entrap soules, in­venters of treason to murther Kings, hellish instruments to ruine Countries, sworne enemies to God, and diligent factors for the deuill. If thou be a man of this Categorie, I hate thee to the very death: but if thou first be true to God, and next to thy owne Prince: if thou be faithfull to thy Country, if thou judge all men with equitie in spite of loue or briberie, if thou wrong no man: and last of all, if thou be all in all a good Christian, thou art an honest man, & thou art the man whō I place in my harts hart: if thou be a woman of a modest behauiour, & discreet in all thy actions, of a chast mind, and of a good life, who still aymes at honestie, and prosecutes all thy desires with the feare of God: it is thou who is the honest woman, and thou art the woman whom I honour to the death. Then be what thou wilt who reades this Treatise, be sure to finde thy selfe set [Page] downe in a true fashion, I haue taken the paines to paint thy portrate, if thou finde thy selfe in faire colours, then be carefull how to entertaine thy selfe in the true Luister, if thou finde thy selfe in filthie colours, wash, clainge, and purge thy selfe from such pestiferous blots, which euen in­fects thy very soule, and makes thee leath some to the sight of God. I haue searched thy feastred wounds, I haue ba­red thy vlcered sores, and for feare of putrifying cankers I haue tainted thee to the very quick: so to keepe thy weak­nes in a good temper, I haue applied this Cataplasme, to appease thee of all thy paines: I am surely perswaded, that these my labors shal merit thanks of the vpright man who loues God, obedient to his King, and is true to his Coun­try, and that the good report of the righteous shall guard me, from criticall barking of wicked malice, and I am assured, that the honest Matron, the wife true to her hus­band, and the chaste virgin will euer party me, and euer be ready to countercheck the detracking reports of the shamelesse woman, whilst my reuenge shall be with silence, and simple patience to smile at neuer-blushing-impu­dence. To conclude, I onely expect to be quarrelled with the deceitfull villaine, whom I will proue to be an arrant Knaue: if thou challenge me, I scorne to be a Coward, and therefore I will answer thee. So I shall euer rest thy hate­full Enemie, and the honest mans Seruant to the death.



SWeet Lady looke & grant this begd-for-grace,
My seruile Muse doth craue vpon her knees,
Now here she comes before thy sacred face,
And of her Labours makes a sacrifees,
Then ouer-spread them with thy glorious eyes,
Let luster faire inritch my rurall rime,
Thou hast the power (great Potent) if thou plees,
To register my verse in endlesse time,
If quicknes of thy wit finde any crime,
In thy discretion sepulchrize my wrong,
For why thou know'st my Muse in youthfull prime
Did what she could to please thee in her song:
Great is the glory of my wish'd-for-gaines,
If deerest Dame, thou patronize my paines.


A SILKE VVORME first eateth it selfe out of a very little seed, and then groweth to be a quick creature: a while af­ter, it is fed and nourished vp­on fresh and greene leaues, then it comes to a greater quantitie, and againe, it eates it selfe out of that coat, and wor­keth it selfe in a coate of silke ingendred full of small seede for many young-ones to breed of, in the end it leaues the slugh of silk for the Ornament of man­kinde: And last of all, it dieth in the shape of a white winged flye. A King may be compared to the silke worme, which first of the earth becommeth a crea­ture, and then being fed & nourished vpon the grace, favour, and mercie of God, with the loue, feare, and obedience of his subjects; he becommeth a King of more kingdomes, and so from kingdome to kingdome he groweth to be an imperiall and free Monarch over many Countries, for him and his posteritie to pos­sesse for ever: in the end, he leaues his vertues educa­tion, his good qualities, his vpright justice, his mercie, his compassion on the poore, and his loue to all his [Page] people, to be a mirrour to the rest of earthly Kings, one example to his children, and a never decaying Ornament to all his Off-spring: then last of all, he returneth againe to the earth; and his soule cloathed with pure innocent whitenes, flyeth vp to heaven in the beautifull shape of a bright, winged Angell, Who shall ascend (sayes the Prophet) into the mountaine of the Lord, and who shall stand in his holy place? euen he that hath inuocent hands, and a pure heart, who hath not in the rage of crueltie sucked the bloud of innocents, who hath not suffered the greater powers to oppresse his poore Subjects: it is he who extols Iustice, and triumphs in mercie.21. Psal. O God, this man is he whose glorie is great in thy salvation, both dignitie and honour hast thou laid vpon him: It is thou, O Lord, who governes all his actions, and still instructs his minde what he shall doe: Cor regis in manu domini quocunque voluerit inclinabit illud: Pro. 21. Cap. Then thou ô earthly King, behold how the great and mightie King of all Kings is thy sure bul­warke, his strength guards thee against the maliti­ous mindes of men, the poysonnous Calumnie of wicked vipers shall not offend thee, nor the subtill hatchers of vnnaturall Treason, shall neuer prevaile against thee, because God assures thee of thy life in all thy journeyes by day or by night, he still sayes vn­to thee as he said by the voyce of his Angell to Gideon: Peace be vnto thee, Iudg. 6. Cap. feare not thou shalt not die: How bold may thou be to build vpon this assurance: if God be with thee,Pro. 20 Cap. who can be against thee Thy anger is like the roaring of a Lyon, he that prouoketh thee to wrath, sinneth against his owne soule. Who should not tremble at thy furie, & who should not be afraid to offend thee? who [Page 2] dare calumniate a King, or yet speake against the vp­rightnesse of his justice; God him selfe giues this straite commaund,Exo. 22. Cap. saying, Thou shalt not raile vpon the Iudges, neither speake euill of the ruler of the people. Then the Apostle Saint Paul tells thee why thou should not doe it:Rom. 13. cap. Because he is the Minister of God to take vengeance on them that doe euill. I say to thee, O King:

Thou earthly God, whose ouer-ruling hand
The Scepter swayes, and doth vnsheath the sword.
Now seruile Kingdomes stoupes at thy command?
Who dare controle thy vnrecalled word.
Thou with great glorie of thy triple crowne,
Erecks the good, and throwes the wicked downe.

God hath anoynted thee a King, and placed thee here on earth to be a God, and to doe right to all men, without respect of persons. God him selfe calls you a God, and commaunds you, saying: Doe right to the poore and fatherlesse: doe justice to the poore and needie, be­cause I haue said thou art a God: And therefore be sure that the great God of heaven, will judge you that are Gods on earth: remember how he is to craue a most sharpe reckoning at your hands, therefore how care­full should thou be ever to discharge thy great and waightie charge which hangs over thy head: thou art a ruler of many, and many things will be asked of thee; respect alwayes the poore more then the ritch, and let not the complaints of thy people come to thy eares by the mouthes of thy briberous Minions; call the poore complainer before thee, stay and heare them with patience, and wearie not to examine their wrongs, when thy pitty hath pondred their estate: Pronounce [Page] sentence with thy owne tongue, then let thy diligent eye see judgement executed, and delay not the poore mans cause, nor let no senistrus request recall thy just resolution. And so shall the teares of the distressed creatures imbalme thy soule, thy righteousnes shall crowne thee, and thy mercie shall set thee on the ma­jesticall Throne of Gods eternall glory! O remem­ber what thou art, where thou art, and what thou shalt be, as I haue said: thou art a King anoynted by God over many people: thou art here on earth a Judge; and thou art to be called before the tribunall seate of God, to giue a reckoning of thy behaviour! O then how narrowly should thou looke to thy journey, how perrilous is thy Prograce? what weightie burthen hangs on thy shoulders, what continuall fashires, what incomprehensible care, and what great memo­rie craues thy carefull estate? With eyes of wisedome governe thy sight about thy selfe, and if thou chance to see sheltred vnder thy owne wings, the deceitfull parasite, the male-contented Mutenar, the murmu­ring whisperer, the detracker of honestie, the invier of vertue, the ambitious oppressour, or the vnmerci­full briber: then if thou finde such caterpillars about thee, sweepe them away; because they are consuming cankers to thy state, bloud-suckers of innocents, ves­sels of treason, and sworne enemies to the true Vnion of thy Kingdomes. O sayes the great King of wise­dome,Pro. 25. cap. Take away the wicked men from the King, and his throne shall be stablished in righteousnes. Shake off all kinde of such infectious scabs, and purge thy compa­nie of such pestiferous euils; keepe ever with the men of truth, and place such men in office as feares God, [Page 3] and loues thee. Let graue and honourable counsai­lours conduct thee, and guard thy selfe with them. Commaund thou them as God hath commaunded all you that are Kings,Deutro. 1. cap. Say ye shall haue no respect of persons in judgement, but shall heare the small as well as the great: ye shall not feare the face of man, for the judgement is Gods: Thou art the Lieutenant of God, therfore thou should looke well to thy officers, and how they are enclined. A true and faithfull subject, who doth the will of his King, is worth the halfe of his Kings kingdom. O sayes Salomon, Pro. 14. Cap. the joy and pleasure of a King is in a wise servant. He putteth the charge of him selfe in his hands, he is the pillar of his state, and executes the actions of his King with a sincere equitie. It is not birth that makes thy subject noble or honourable. The originall of No­bilitie is like a small spring, which good desert makes the gratefull favour of a King to enlarge to a great ri­ver, which by bound dutie ought to pay their dutifull tribute to the King their Ocaean: but how many are they that becomes ingrate, and swels with pride, am­bition, envie, treason, sedition, and emulation, they become rebellious flouds, & overflowes their banks, and in dispersing them selues, looses their name, and becomes ignominious to the world. When such men beholds their owne ruine and swift destruction (which blinde pride did never looke for) then how may their shame smother ambition in a helplesse repentance, making the eyes of man (which was curious to behold the glorious triumph of their vpraisd pomp) turne with amazement to looke vpon their suddaine fall, this tragicall spectacle of the great mans grovelling on the ground, makes dispaire crie out, Qui jacet in [Page] terra non habet vnde cadit. O how should that man haue his minde tortered within his loathsome bo­die, when he beholds how swiftly his glorie hath left him, his honours drowned in disgrace, his salutati­ons turned to contempt: his bare-headed petitioners the spectators of his ruine, and the voice of the world (mixtured with loue and disdaine) making many misconstrued suppositions, his friends weepes and la­ments his estate, his foes smiles, and makes the acci­dents of his destruction their discourse, whilst he poore rejected soule cries out, Colocatus sum in obscuris sicut mortuus seculi. Here is a just reward to an vnjust sub­ject. True service to God, obedience to thee who is King, and vpright judgement voyd of partialitie no­bilitates the man, it crownes him with honour, and makes his glory to shine eternally: blessed is that King who may freely giue his subject this most glori­ous and honourable Epithite, saying, I haue a faithfull servant: this man is he whom the booke of God calls the wise servant, in whom the pleasure and ioy of a King remaines: he boldly tells thee thy error, his wise­dome prevents thy euill, he whispers in thy eare, and desires thee to read before thou set thy hand Litera scriptamanent! O how secure may the just man be in his soule, his safe conscience makes him fearelesse: he hath compassion on the poore,Deutr. 16. Cap. he wrests not the Law, neither hath he any respect of persons, neither taketh he rewards to blinde his vnderstanding, nor yet per­verteth he the words of the just man, but ponders the estate of all men with wisedom: this man may truly be called a righteous Judge: when Augustus Caesar gaue aucthority to any Iudge, he also gaue this advertise­ment, [Page 4] I put not (sayes he) the treasure of my honour in thy hands, nor doe I commit my justice to thee, that thou should be a destroyer of people, the bloud shedder of innocents, nor ane executioner of malefactors, but with the one hand thou should maintaine the good, and with the other hand raise vp the euill man from his wickednes. Therefore I send thee forth to be a preceptor and defender of Orphanes, a helper of widowes, a Chirurgion for all wounds, a staffe for the blinde, a pittier of the poore, and a father to all persons. To speake faire to my enemies, and rejoice my friends. O how much is that man to be esteemed, who with a fearelesse reguard executes the will of his Prince, and in spite of envious malice, giues a true testimonie of a good conscience: this man is he who is bles­sed in the sight of GOD, his ritch treasure layes hoarded vp in heaven, the glory of his GOD, the honour of his King, and the weale of his Countrey is the onely contemplation of his soule in this pre­sent time: how perrilous is the estate of mankinde: how is the honest mans actions misdeemed, and his behaviour misconstrued, if he be an actour in the affaires of his King and Countrey, then is he cen­sured to be a man of partialitie, and a busie-headed body, if he retire him selfe from Court, and meddle with nothing, then is he suspected to be a Malevole, on who expects the change of Court, a suborner, or else a faction-maker: then begins Envie to pick quar­rels, Malice will barke and invent false information! O how watchfull should the honest minded man be in this latter dayes of deceit, to saue him selfe from the subtill snares of secret envie. This inconstant world being so full of subtill deceites, in whom can [Page] the vpright man trust, how many in externall comple­menting showes vowes affection, where secret grudge is grounded. And besides, what a quarrellous pick-thank time is it, when a man dares not trust him selfe, but doubts his dearest friend. Some reades so much on Matchavell, that in the end they turne matchlesse villaines; the honest and plaine dealing man is abhorred and termed a Gull, whilst politick they imployes their wits to exploit other mens destru­ction, when extreame necessitie and miserie of want doth vrge the poore men to steale or rob; then are they presently taken, put in prison, and laid in chaines of iron: But when a politick Matchavilian robs the common wealth, and doth oppresse the poore, he tri­umphs in golden chaines: it is he who gets the Law­stouping salutations on the streete: it is he who makes his deceaving pietie, his cut-throat flatterie, his dissi­mulation to God, to his King and his Countrie, poy­son the aire. It is he whose vnderstanding could ne­ver reach to that imagination, that there can be a God, and it is he, who for a swift passing glory damnes his soule eternally.16. Cap. This sort of men are they whom our Saviour Christ speakes of in the Evangell of S. Luke, that they are cloathed in purple, in silke, and in fine li­nings, well fed, and delicate in all things, in their se­cure sensualitie they contemne the poore Lazarus ly­ing at their gate, they heare not his ruthfull cries, they are blinde, and sees not his sores, their hearts are hardned and considers not his miserable estate. These are they who liues in Kings Courts, Qui molibus vesti­untur in domibus regum sunt: In braue apparrell, in pride of life, and choaked with this worlds vaine glory, [Page 5] what reckoning shall be taken of such men, and what answere can they make to God Almightie, when he shall say, Redde rationem vilicationis tuae, Giue me a reckoning of thy stewardship;Luk. 13 and therefore the greater thy place, the greater thy reckoning shall be before God: And the more thy pleasures in this life, the more thy paines shall be in the life to come. O what a terrible sentence giues Christ in the Apocalips when he sayes, Quantum in dilitiis suit, tantum date illi tormentum. What plea­sures hath the ritch man had in this world, let him haue as many torments in the world to come. All thy senses which did abound in delectation, shall become most loathsome, thy delecate eares, shall for their sweete musick, receaue most detesta­ble howling of tormented spirits; thy feeling which was vsed to fine linnings, and soft silks, shall feele the burning fire of brimstone: Thy sight which had the prospect of faire buildings, ritch and curi­ous Architectors, & pleasant gardings, shall see the ouglie sight of fearfull and terrible divels; thydian tie gust which did surfet with all sorts of sweetnes, shall be tormented with thirst and hunger; and thy smell which was fed with rare muste, & filled with art of fine oders, shall now be perfumed with stink and sent of most intollerable filthines. This shall be the rewarde given to the ritch gluttons of this world. God speaking by his Prophet Esay, he bids, Tollatur impius ne videat gloriam Dei; Take the wicked man away, that he may not see the glory of God. Then thou who sucks forth the heart­bloud [Page] of the poore, thinke on this, and thou who art a grievous oppressour, looke to thy selfe, or ra­ther thy heart is hardned and can not see, thou tri­umphs in the aboundance of worldly glorie; thy conscience feeles not the forceable stroke of sinne; thy too much sensualitie hath made thy soule sens­les. But ô when sicknes the fore-running harbinger of agonizing death doeth sease vpon thy bodie, & wils thee to pay that doubtles debt, no suretie will be taken, nor no shifting excuse can helpe thee, thy soule must needs be sequestred from thy bodie, all thy friends will forsake thee, thy flattering troups which doeth attend thee, will leaue thee, thy pleasures shall loath thee, and in thy loathsome bed shalt thou lye destitute of all comfort; the di­vell in most fearefull and terrible forme shall haunt thee, houlding thy haynous sinnes before thine eies, and still crying in thine eares, Despaire and dye. What miserable estate shall this be, when thy wicked life layeth this before thee, and telles, this must thou suffer, and this way must thou goe. And when the malediction of the op­pressed man, the destressed widow, and fatherles Children, whose ruth-begging-clamours, di­sturbes the Heavens, and brings thee (O wicked man) to this miserable end. Can thy ritches ridde thee, or sette the free from the horrible paines of Hell? Where is the glory of thy wealth and sub­stance nowe? Divitiarum jactantia quid vobis con­tulit? And besides all this, how infamous shall thy name be amongst the Commons still, like a Ten­nice [Page 6] ball, tossed from mouth to mouth, Saying, the most pernitious instrument of our age hath left this worlde; The onely Glutton of Ambition whose insatiable desires coulde never be filde, one who subornde the eare of his Prince, and made him beleeue that everie strange face was comde to cut his throat, on whose envy wold suffer no man rise but himselfe. When ever he did marke any aspyring branch, flourish vnder the shining fa­vour of the King, then did his seditious wittes, and his Luciferian pryde, search by all meanes how to destroy him. This ever byting hound whose teeth was a contagious canker, when his heart was most ful of mischief, then was his tongue most ful of flat­terie. O filthie disease of flattery, it were better for a man to follow a dogge, and liue vpon his surfating vomet, then to be a flatterer. O flatery the very in­tysing snare of deceit, vnder the which all kinde of dangers lieth obscured in Ambush, to be short he was such a one, that still did impoverish the Kings coffers to inritch his own, he did not loue to se these to whom he was beholden, to al his friends vnthāk­full, of all good deeds forgetful, and to al wel-deser­ving mindes ingrate. O thou filthie ingratitude, thou art even the very excrament of all evilles, ill fa­ring, man faire ill: J must leaue thee for my breath is putrified with sounding the Trumpet of thy ignominious imperfections. Ryde on thy posting journey, for indeed thou may ride a swift gallop to hell, when thou hast the Arch-diuell thy guide to winde his horne before thee, let him who is hulcerus [Page] shrink at his owne smart, when his sores are serst. Now as for the yong aspyring gallant, J haue most rare and excellent Collours to paint thy portrate in a trew lustring forme; take Physick to ingender thy patience, although my speech be Satyrick, What then? bitter drinkes are goode for the sto­mack, Therefore come on thou vngratious Boy, for J must haue about with thee, Thou chylde of vnthrift, when thy parents gives thee store of wealth, before God giue thee witte to governe: Then be sure thou selst all, pawnst all, and spendst all. How carles art thou of whats to come? Thou never thinkst on want, but playes the infant perdu freely, still assuring thy selfe, that thy father hath a fatted Calfe to be kilde at thy Conversion. Vpon the hope of this, thou letst all goe, like the smoake of Tobacco, or like a soppy billow, which flees from the shell of the walnut, and straight doth va­nish in the aire. It may be thy father or mother, hes scraped this substance together with labour, hun­ger and pinching of their belly: How beggerly perchance hath thy parents lived to provyde for thee? How carefull were they to get it? And how careles how they got it? evill and vnlawfull con­quesse makes such Impes of perdition come after and spend all. Thou art like a raging Courser, which runnes without a brydle, or rather like a storme-beaten-ship amidst the Rocks, hauing no Rudder at all. Thou doeth quintiscens thy vnder­standing, and imploys thy wits, leaving no deceit vnsought how to get money. Thou intrudest thy [Page 7] selfe in the Kings favour, building great authoritie on his smyle; if he grace thee with his eare, then becōmest thou homely, bold, and audatious lying, cogging and flattering, that the behoulders and hearers may thinke thee a trew and perfite Cour­tier in deed. By this meanes, many men employes thee to speak to the Prince in their afaires, sutes, cō ­plaints and requests, are put in thy hands. What is offered thee for thy paines? Thou wilt doe nothing till thou get halfe, or all in hand; then thou selst the poore mans sute to some other, and so makes thy shifting delayes excuse thy shameles deceat. If thou be sometyme altogether out of money, thou calst thy wits to a reckoning, and then disguises thy selfe in some strange apparels; and on the his way will rob the passenger of his purse A King may giue honor o [...] knight-hood, but he cannot giue moyen to main­taine it. After thy robery, then come to Court with thy bolde erected face, and an impudent gesture most majesticall, to maske thy rogish villany in a vagabounding humor, thy nights are spent in whowring, so thou makst thy bawdrie & spending in a Bordell. Increase thy reputation, and then thy lecherous life makes the blew circle vnder thy eye. Tell the world how much thou art over-spent in­substance of bodie. Besides all this the Paliards token which thou caries of a Mersenary woman, most pleasant for the Apotecharie, and very profi­table for the Barber. Thou affirmest thy self to be of the Iudayecall law, and much more in going beyond the Iew in thy vpright Circumcision. Notwithstan­ding, [Page] of all this, every Ladie in the Court, must be thy mistres, but thy chief choise is a gallant, and most quick-witted Lady, whose experience knows what duety belongs to the quiet opening of a back doore, perfumed smocks, a whispering voice, and cloath-shooes, & who in a veneryan discourse, with the want of shame, will make her fan serue to cover the bloudles blush of her never blushing face, thy want of purpose is supplied with many apish triks, and in thy interluds doth praise her mistaken beau­tie, affirming, that it is not painting makes her faire, nor that her perfumd breath giues delicacie to the smel, no thou swerst nature hes done al The crew of vnthrifts are thy comrades, such cumpanions as hes made compaction with the divell to ride poste to hel; when thou commest to a taverne, and enters in the second degrie of drunknes, then playest thou the Rodomontado, and in thy Orlando Furioso humor, cals for Oceans of vyne, a world of Tobacco, and whole mountaines of suger, who wil refuse to carouse thy mistres helth, then is he called the son of a whowre, the wine thrown in his face, & straight cartalisde to a combat, thou must be stout and out-swagger al, & still curse the coelestiall signes which are not in Can­cer or Scorpio, to the effect thou may let out thy co­lerick bloud, in thy swearing most horrible, so that the greevous terror of oathes, makes the haire of the hearers head stand right vppe, when the host brings thee a reckoning, then thou wilt sweare to pay all, and so takes it in trust, for J grant it is the true pendeckles of gentilitie, to black bookes with [Page 8] reckonings, to hunt with dogs, to play at dyce, and dally with drabs, and sometime to make a cuckold of thy furnisher: when a married man be­commes a Monster, what kinde of glory is it to see him walk on the streets, with a pair of egregious e­rected hornes, and every one poynting their finger at his horned-worship. Thou art of no Religion, but a meere Athiest, then assure thy selfe to liue vn­querrelled, thy roume and large conscience will make thee to escape excommunication, because the Libertine goes alwayes frie, yet for all this thou goest to Church for fashion sake, and makes thy seming pietie weare thy brieches on the knees, as the young Lawyer goes to the house of Justice, and without profeit, weares the fore-breast of his gowne on the Bar, so that he is forst to make a som­mer cloak of the posterior parte: All this miserie proceeds of the want of Clyants, and fearfull com­plainours, who dares not trust the defence of their action in the hands of such a skil-wauting Novice. Thou imitating all kinde of strange hu­mors, still becomes inconstant in thy cloathes, Thy traffick is with the Lumbard, thou makes it thy Gwardarobba, and thy serce is amongst the Phrepryes, and oft-times a purpose thou stayest from Court a prettie whyle, that occasion may offer thee to returne with a newe fashion of cloaths, not vnlike a Cittizens young wyfe, who in curious pryde of a newe-fangling Humour, will take the advantage to change her buske vvhen [Page] she comes from her child-bed. Jf thou hast any thing, sell, pawne, borrow, and begge, to buy knight-hood, thy wife must haue a hoode, and be called Madame, although thou and she should liue beggerlie, and lay the most parte of your cloaths in lavender, to maintaine the naked style; it is a base ambition, which brings nothing with it but the bare name. Povertie maks such sort of people turne Cunny-catchers, take vp commodities, skambell, beg and borrow of their betters, and still liue by the tryall of their wits, attended on by brokers, who spares not to seek & serch be al means to know who will giue their money out for intrest, making large and fair promises, damning his soule to confirme his lyes, till at last with vowes and oathes, he de­ceaues his neighbour; and that which an honest man hes gathered with great paines, and longsome travell, gotten and scraped together, to maintaine him and his family: Then is it put in the hands of a deceitfull villaine, who never thinks to repay a pen­nie of it. How soone his credit is lost? then is he gone, and becomes bankerout. So is many a poore man left with his wife and children to make new shift, this is a voluntarie robberie, which a good conscience could never yet excuse. The serjants at­tends like pages of honor vpon such careles vn­thrifts, whose eares are ever attending, I arrest you sir. The dambd Crew, and the swaggering Consort of companions, hants commonlie about the Court and capital Citties, and waits on Taverns, the ordi­naries, stages playe-tilting, balling, and revelling, [Page 9] so are they at al sorts of conventions, and with cun­ning authoritie becomes pocket-sersers, and purs­pykers their promynado is in some other parte like Pauls Church at London, where many poore gentle­men dines with Duck Vmphra, and then comes to to the strets spaniard-like with an emytie bellie, pik­ing his teeth, in this abused place, these imps of vn­thrifts makes their meetings, and there invents new stratagems how to get fresh money, some by horse, and some by foote, will walk like night Owls on the fields, waiting scollers comming from their friends, farmorers cōming to London, marchants go­ing to mercats, & lawiers coming from the visitati­on of their clyants, and so transforming the word of God saue you sir, in rander your purse sir, they become obsolut commanders. O they haue no revenues of lands, this purchese makes them go gallant in faire cloathes, & entertain an horse & a whore, & some­time for necessitie sake, himselfe will be Pandor; of what proceedes all this villany? It is true, the King hath no warres, nor wil not grant Commissioners, nor letters of Mark for the sea, every Galies and Ga­lias lying idle and waist without slaues, so that my Lord cheif Justice is forst to fill prisons, and floo­rish Tyburn with the lewd consort of this dambd Crew. These sparkes of perdition, caries the name of Gentle-mens sonnes, hauing great reve­nues and rents, and for the most parte are calde Capitaines, or else Lewtenants, aske him where he was made Capitaine, he will presently answere in eighty eight, that time when the king of Spains great [Page] Armado was overthrowne; or else in Ireland, when the Earle of Essex was generall. O to heare them ti­kle a discourse of valour, what great bravados (as the Spaniard sayes) Que son Mais los amenazados, que los acuchilla dos, and how they kill men be appre­hension, leads on troups, and never takes them off againe, Como vno spanzola Rodamontado, that sayes, his beard grew with smook of muscats, and the haire of his head decayde with the noyse of Can­nons, such sorte of men makes the winde of their stomack become firmeaer, so that every word (by selfe consate, and a lying discourse) appeares in his owne minde a braue man. These are the men who affirmes transmigratioune, and makes it the chief Ar­ticle of their beleif, as when he sayes, Bota adios io sta hidalgo Nassido, So by imagination, he is the most valorous man that ever lived, he will haue a ragement, and all his Souldiers must haue Mo­narchs minds; all his drums must be made of kings skinnes, and presentlie he will vow and sweare that his sword shall kill none except it be Cornels, Capitaines, e Cavelleros muy honorados. What man of a soled wit wolde not smyle to heare such base Cowards discourse, and chiefly in a Taverne, or else in a bordell amongst whowres, away with such cogging villains, which are naught els but the very excraments of mankinde. What may be thought of the bussie headed man, who ranges from Coun­trie to Countrie, he haunts Courts, and becomes a spye, still curious to search newes and verye diligent to knowe the secrets of all estates; in this [Page 10] point he proves a rare intelligencer, and so much the more by ingyring himselfe with hanging on the companie of young and light-headed Courtiers, with a counterfoot gesture, still plausible to their idle humors, at his comming to towne before he come to Court, he takes his lodging in the sub-vrbs and inquyres for the Phrepry, and then, be sure he will enter like a Polonian, a Sweish, or a Flemiug; But ô how swiftlie will he be chainged in ane I­talian, a French, or else in a Spanish sute? In this new Metamorphus, hee comes bouldlie to the streete, and makes his promynad towardes the Court, pressing (as it were) to accompanie his vnacquainted apperrell with a borrowed gesture, making the world poynte at his oulde garment, furnished with newe fashions, till some poore Gentle-man take notice of his owne late pawnded sute. Then (even then) beginnes povertie to make the true owner blushe at the Bastarde behavi­our of baisnes it selfe, whilst the boy of the Phre­prey is sette to attend on his hyrde apperrell, and still to remember the stranger to come back, and make restitution, and that he may leane off the wal, and alwayes keepe his cloathes cleane. When he circuits the Palace, he scornes to be asha­med, but needs will intrude himself amongst Gen­tle-men and Ladies, then beginnes Curiositie to inquyre whats he? O sayes one, he is a Traveller, a man of a most rare wit, and of a very quick dis­course, he is an Heretick Poet, who can ryme ex­tempore, Mitolat-lynes, Stropyat-verses, with [Page] halting-feete, and make any object his subject, and more then this, he hath the true arte of face painting, he knowes the secreet vertue of com­plections, and hee can lay an vpright vermilion collour vpon the pale cheeks of bloudles Ladies. What folies and superstitious vanities may the eies of Wisdome beholde in the affronted and dam­nable customs of wicked mankinde, whose mindes are a mirror of mischief, a bordell to vyce, and an excramentle corruption of all inormities, it smels of treason to knock at the doore of a Kings mi­nion, so with scretching (the long waiting peti­tionar) nay weare his nales to the flesh, before he shall be dispatched, this makes many mal-conten­ted myndes stand vpon the Thaeater of impati­ence, behoulding the glittering stage of an evill furnished and deformed Court, where blinde For­ton playes a prologue to the triumph of Time, acted with the abhominable sinnes of Envy, Pryde, Am­bition, Gluttonie, Avarice and Licherie, &c. But ô how happie is that man whose heart is not pol­luted with the imperfection of Court, whose head is not stuft with a world of fascheries, and whose minde is not crost with tormenting refu­sals. This man is he who liues at home voyde of treason, secure without feare or danger, and most ritch with sweete contentment, it is he who scornes to climbe a falling Towre, and whose chiefe felicitie is not fixed, nor placed vpon vn­certaine toyes, so very well may it be said,

HOw blest is he whose happy dayes are spent
Far from the Court, and liues at home in ease:
It's onely he whose ritch with sweete content
And builds no nest on top of Caedar trees:
No storming strife, nor yet no Viprich kinde
Of treasons gilt, doth harbor in his minde.
He eats that bread, which sweating labor yeelds,
With open doores, secure in his repose;
He walks alone, abroad on spatious fields,
Goe where he please, he needs not feare his foes:
He trades on that, which proud ambition brings,
And scornes the threatning terror of great Kings
I grudge to see when many a scurvie Clowne,
Of no desert traumphs, in their desire,
And from the top of Honor doth throwe downe
Heroyk spirits, presuming to aspire:
shame wher's thy blush? cā heauens contēt with this
To see good Kings, deceaued with Judas kis.
Thou hellish Court where cut-throat flattrie dwels,
Where simple trueth no kinde of shailter findes,
Where baser mindes, with pride and enuy swels
Where rueling hearts are like inconstont winds,
Where Forton blinde playes to a poultrons chance,
And makes deceat in glittring robs to dance.
You painted snakes, whose bitter poysning gall,
With want of pittie, plagues the poore mans purse,
Gasping damnation, doth attend you all,
[Page] Ther's no Relax [...]or your Eternall cursse:
Then curst be Court, thou monstrous Map of Hell,
Where enuy, pryde, and treason loues to dwell.

O time, what a pretious thing art thou to be thus abusde and wrongde with so many? When thou art lost, who can finde thee? When thou art gone, who can recall thee? How happie are they who employes thee well, and spends the not in hunting idle and vncertaine toyes? What a pittie is it to see braue spirites so careles of time, and still waisting of their wits in vaine? Consuming their youthfull yeares in such slauish service, where ver­tue could never harbour, and at last guardond with ingratitude, how oft hath the cowardlie flatterer cropen in favor, and catched the gallant mans re­warde? O but the disgrace of indiscretion pertaines to the distributer, & not to the wel-deserving man. Let the man whose meriet is great, put on Pati­ence, crosse his armes, and smyle at shameles in­gratitude, what a shame is it for such as are borne to great ritches, and yet wants nobilitie! O to be noble now in these dayes, it is thought to be pro­digal, and so the hearts of higher powers, are trans­formed in the hearts of avaritious vsurers, who makes their gould their God, he houlds his hand fast, his blinde pryde, and voluntarie forgetfulnes, thinks every man bound by duetie to serue and doe his vtermost, without so much as thinks, how shall braue men in this miserable extremitie liue, or keepe goode cloathes on his back? seing his service is all his revenues, Poore man, he is forst to goe seek [Page 12] his forton be some other meanes. Because when he goes to the warres, every Capitaine will be his Comrad, and if his courage deserue honor, he shall get it, and what he hath by hazard is sweete content, he gets elbo-roume to eate his meate, he needs not lay downe his cloak in vaine to sit at the great­mans table, for if there wants roume, he must stand like the pillar of salt which Lots wife was turned in, or else steale to his cloak, and stay for the latter meate, where never yet was ceremony of sitting downe, for he that comes first, sits first, and then sits like one flightred in rops, if he holde not his hand on his trinsher, hee may be robd whilst he drinks, if he eates at leasure, he may be sure to rise with an empty belly; if he be hungrie, he must swel­low all with vncivilitie, and put himselfe in perrell of chocking. I think the stomack of a latter-meate­man, and the stomack of a dog, must be very like of disgesture, and their throats of a like measure, for they without vse of their teeth swollows all. At hunting after the Deere is kild and cwird, then is his intrals throwne to the hounds, whose greedie appatide, and eager strife, without regarde, sla­bring the guts about their eares, and every one pul­ling from another gormounds filth and all. In treuth me thinks, there is nothing in similitude, can come so neare the forme of a Courtiers latter-meat break-fast, the savage rudnes of such creatures, tels modestie, that they never learned, Quos decet in mensa mores servare docemus, They are altogether ignorant of civill instructions, their quick expedi­tion, [Page] makes their patience cry, either a shorte grace, or else no grace at all. O what a heavie crosse is it for an honest heart to liue in such a graceles and slavishe life, let him serue, waite, ryd, all is in vaine, and without profite. Beholde the Catigorie of whisprers. One will round in his Lords eare an errant lye; another forge and invent a slattring discourse to please the humor of his ma­sters minde, some will doe no good service except it be in sight, that he may gaine thanks, and the vil­lane proues naught else but a pyk-thank knaue, and a back-byter of his dearest companions. I wonder but some of the wiser sort of noble men, shold pon­der and consider very wel, sic villanie, and stil grace the pyk-thank with a listing eare, take good heed to his detracting discourse, and ever ayme at all his a­ctions with a diligent eie, protect his knaverie with a smyle, why? because such men are mali necessarij, ô but good my lord, beleeue him not without great triell, take a reckoning of his relation, and keep not malice in a misconstring minde towards an honest man, if it be a mater of importance, which con­cernes both honour and credit, then spare not to call the suspected man before thee, and aske him in secracie, if this or that be true, if thou findst any knavery, either be malice, or be just tryell, guer­done the honest man with honour, and [...]asleir the knaue with shame, contrare-poyson such consu­ming cankers, & keep not such venemous vipers in thy company, but stil away with savors of discenti­on, and breeders of mutanie, for how can a cittie [Page 13] stand, or yet hold out against the enemie, when it is devided in it selfe: Or if the members of thy bo­die be cresd or feistred with filthy sores: thou who is the head, can never be well; thy followers are thy guard; and therfore thy guard that guards thee should be sound and of one minde, accompanied with loue one to another, without envie, grudge, or malice: and aboue all things, they should carie a great and awfull respect, to thee who is their onely head and maister: thy glory is to see all that attends thee in good equipage; and it is thy shame to see men that corrupts good maners, to bide in thy companie, or to attend thy person. The honest gesture decores the grofnes of the apparrell, but evill education would spoile a diadem. If thy ser­vant or retainer, after two or three admonitions re­fuse instruction, decard him, and let him goe: be­cause simple ignorance can be no excuse to arro­gant wilfulnes, be curteous to thy friend, and still be noble to thy followers. Because they who at­tends-thee, are as strengthie pillars of thy estate, and without them thou can not stand. Be liberall, but no wayes prodigall, and as a contagious Pest, ever eschew that filthy and detestable vice of avarice. Contemne that beggerly Canalze, who counsailes thee, to shame thy worth with a niggards minde, great is the great-mans honour, which consists in a wise servant. It is not the discreet holding of a great house, will impoverish thy state. And it is not thy noble heart to thy followers will empty thy cofers: No, it is when the vnthrift in his prodigall humor, [Page] most vngratiously spends his rent vpon change of whores, and diligent Pandors in secret villanie, when the darkned clouds of the quiet night, brings silent rest to the honest sort: even then is the sparkes of perdition ranging the streetes, and making their ritcht triumph in bordels. O heavens why made thou night to cover sinne: it is this and such abuse as this be, that cankers the state of many a man: these abo­minations breeds many beggers, and drawes down Gods vnresistable wrath vpon them selues, their house, and their off-spring. And againe, how will other misers spend their ritches so narrowly, and yet how swiftly will it consume, because God hath not blessed their portion, some will hoard it vp, and neither hath joy nor comfort of it: they hold in their hand, and with earnest eyes over-looks every thing niggardly: it is they who ever takes a sharpe recko­ning of the kitchin-Counts, and still giues strait com­mand to the Butler and Pantry keeper, betwixt meales to goe take the aire in some quiet corner, where he can not be found. O these be they who subscriues their precepts with a counterfetted Cha­racter, to the effect the deburser should not answer his Maisters warrant, but only make payment with shifting delayes. These sort of men weares their cloathes till they weare out of fashion, and than transformes them in the last edition. When this ma is called to any convention cōcerning his King or Country, or yet to pleasure his friends in any af­faires, to eschew the journey, then be sure he will haue the meagrime in his head, a paine in his teeth, [Page 14] some collick in his intrals, either Siatike, or else by guttish, then must his beggerly worship keepe his chamber, & take some Phisick to expell the humor of expenses: they are alwaies deafe when they heare of any thing that sounds of asking: they can never be found in their giving humor, but are alwaies starke blind at the sight of the well-deserving man: this ig­nobilitates honor, it crownes shame, it treads downe vertue, it inthrones vice, and makes hellish ingrati­tude, to becom the triumph of time. Should a Prince­ly spirit be so base, as not to haue a care of the man whose merit is great: should he haue that ingratfull mind to make a forged fault, rob him of his reward, and then send him to thee yet: or should he haue that vnchristian heart, to let him know of want. O worse (yea ten thousand times worse) then the verie hearts of brute beasts: Cursed be thou ingratitude, the chiefe of all euils: fie on such beggerly brests, which are borne to be Noble, and then containes naught else but pinching avarice. Ocancro, le Spalle d' vn hu­omo da bene non debbono portare la somma di tante inju­rie. O it grieues me mightily that I can not raile e­nough, and it grieues me more, that nothing else but bare railing should work revenge vpō the base abuse of such strange monsters, whose degenerate haerts from true Nobility are gilt overwith golden words. But what cā be said to a cautarisd cōscience, a remorsles mind, or to a hardned & sensles heart, who never died the face of honor with the blush of shame, the gentle heart of an honest minded man, bolds his turret of recōpēce vpō the ruinous groūd [Page] of idle promises, still credulous, and ever ritch in naked hope, till at last his merit growes so great, that his sight becomes loathsome to him, who should reward him. Who is it then that gets and gathers all the gaines? flattering pick-thanks, vn­worthy fowles, cowardly poltrones, and canailies, who still keepes begging in request. So ideots, stoyicks, and parasites, are ritch, when Princes and gallants are poore. Such is the subtilty of snakie hatchers of envious treason, and subtill villaines. To see two crafty knaues meet in Court, in street, or any where, how will they salute one another with shaking of hands with low courtesaies, an­nixt complements, offers, vowes, and large pro­mises will passe betwixt them: how ware will they be ever doubting, not vnlike two cunning and sure Fensers lying at a safe guard: O that then their bo­die were transparent like christall, and that an ho­nest man might see what hid mischiefe lies in their hearts. I thinke the honest man might gnash his teeth, to see the hote rancounter of equall deceit, the true race of Babilonian rascalls, the slaues of pride, and generation of Haman. If any such vil­laine haue the credit to gather & take vp his Lords rents and revenewes, in receaving and debursing: then be sure he keepes the two rules of Arthme­tick, to wit, Substraction and Multiplication, the one helps him in his receaving, the other in his debur­sing, hee must enterline his counts, enlarge his summes, invent new journeyes, exploit all kinde of courses that may be expensive, onely a purpose to [Page 15] make great volumes of reckonings, that his vantage may be the greater, & his theift the better covered. Hee robs his Maister of his revenewes, and makes him selfe a great rent, and with a godlesse purchase he liues like a Prince, enritching his owne posteri­tie, and puts his Maister ever in debt: the Noble man thinks him selfe to be well served, and that he hath a faithfull and trustie servant, when the villaine is a cut-throat, a vnderminder of his Maisters state, and brings his lands in morgage: this man will counsaile his Lord to sell his lands, and this villaine will be the first will offer him money; these kinde of deeeaving Parasites are made ritch with falls and godlesse conquest. O this man is he that hath no soule, he plagues the tenants, and stops the eare of his Maister from the poore farmourers complaint: he hath no compassion on the widow or fatherlesse, in giving of rewards he robs his Lords honour, be­ing commaunded, he either giues little, or none at all: he payes the well-deserving man with faire ex­cusing-words, & the poore distressed begger with God help you, but when the purse-bearers recko­nings are produc'd, how large, how liberall, and how honourable will he make his Maisters rewards to be. O this affronted villaine with a shamelesse face, and with perjured oathes, will damne the ve­rie soule of him selfe. O that the King, the Duke, Lord, Laird, Maister, or the superiour, be what thou will, would take such a treacherous knaue by the neck, and say, Sirra, giue me a reckoning of my goods; thou art a cogging villaine, thou art a tray­tour, [Page] and betrayed me: thou hast stollen my sub­stance and begirt me, thy deceit hath over-siled my Parents, robd their lands, & made me to liue in po­verty: thou hast woone all with false dice, lay down againe, or else thou shalt smart for it. I thinke, be what thou may be, thou may doe this, and thou may doe it with auctoritie of a good conscience, and so giue an example to all cosoning rascals, to cogging flatterers, and to all treacherous villaines. When Generalls, Coronals, or Captaines, receaues pay from the Prince or his Pagadore, to doe good ser­vice to the Countrey, they who are commanders of the Armie, will make new Callenders of their owne enlarging yeares and moneths: for somtime they will make the yeere to be 15. moneths, the mo­neth fiue or six weekes, to the wrack of the souldi­ers: and againe, their monters shall be given in to be thirtie, fortie, fiftie, or a hundreth thousand strong, when they shall scarse be half so many men, so that false monters is the ruine of a camp, the rob­bing of a Prince, and the only destruction of poore souldiers by the law of Armes and counsaile of warres, such caterpillers of a Campe should be hanged, cashiered, raked and tortured, and at lest get the strapado. Many a Captaine goes gallant, and playes the bravado with the poore souldiers pay: how can a souldier liue, when he gets no pay to maintaine him. Js it not a great and worthy glo­rie, and a mightie courage to the Generalls heart, when he sees all his Armie of gallant men in good equipage, and his Camp well furnished. And to [Page 16] be more carefull for the souldiers then for him self, seeing the souldier is his defence, and the onely fortresse of his estate. O that the eyes of Princes would not winke at such villanie, and that their wealth should not be so vnworthily bestowed. A kings minion that knowes all the secrets of the king, and next to the Kings body, perchance will be an intelligencer, a factor, & a doer for neighbor Prin­ces, pressing to raise and keepe them vp, and vnder­minding his owne King and Maister, taking large sums, so that he becomes a Pentioner to a forraine Prince, yea if it were to ten Kings, he will take of all▪ this busie-headed and craftie knaue, for all this he is not mistrusted, but still advanced and esteemed to be a true subject, and still thought a man who doeth good service to his King & Country. Now in this chirping time of peace, when none triumphs but cowards & poltrones, souldiers and schollers are banisht Court & Country, they are counted a con­tagious Pest, and vnprofitable instruments. What shal we all turne cowards, & still try our patience in suffering wrongs? when the couragious souldier be­gins to discourse how he hath spent his time in wars he begins to tel in the Winter how he lies in garri­son, & in the spriug-time like a well managed ship going to her voyage, so in braue equipage goes he to the fields commanded by his Chieften, and ani­mated in his march with sound of Trumpet, and tuck of Drummes, if they approach the enemie in faire fields, they must marche in battaile, if the Campe defende or pursue a Towne, they must [Page] enritch them selues, make redoubts, and conques ground, defend their Cannon, set their Gabions, and palisade their weaker places, the souldier must stand his houre sentinell perdew, vnder the mercie of Musket and Canon, and what is all their sport? naught else but flying of Colours, sounding of Trumpets, touking of Drummes, clashing of har­nesse, shooting off Muskets, roaring of Cannons, thundring of vp-blowne-Mines, giving assaults, and getting repulse with sundry & thick sortes, making retreats, and with fresh courage joyning hote and fierce rancounters, bringing destruction, rape, bloud-shed, murther, and cruell vengeance. O this fearefull discourse makes the haires of a coward stand right vp, he will not buy honour at such a per­rillous rate, he will stay at home and be knighted either by moyen or money: such is the abuse of worthy knighthood, that now every kitchen-fellow may attaine to, be flattering credit of euil-purchasd wealth. Non venit ex molli vivida fama thoro, Do­lours, paines, guts, avarice, ambition, envie the stonie gravell, the plague, inventing of treason, and thousand worse infirmities, and worse diseases are found and bred by idlenes and staying at home, much more then in travaile or going in farre jour­neyes. I hate this miserable sect of Epicurians, who onely loues to eate, sleepe, and drinke. Looke on a drunkard, how the continuall exhausting of drinke enflames his face with fire, and transformes his nose in a red rock of spurtled and white-headed ru­bies, whose glistring luister yeelds a vermilion re­flex [Page 17] to palenes it selfe: and yet the more the sto­mack be oppressed with the strength of drinke, the more it heates and dries vp, Quo plus sunt potae, plus sitiuntur aquae, such sort of tiplers who loues and hath pleasure in bibbing and continuall supping of strong drinke: this Epicurian sect, I say, makes their back & their belly their summum bonum. O I blame the great abuse of companionrie, who can not keep societie, and be merrie in honest & civill pastimes: they think all nothing if that they drinke not drunk: what a beastly thing is drunkennes? and what an abhominable mother is it to all other sinnes, it is the very gate of hell. Alexander the great, when he had conquest the world with valour, yet drinke overthrew him, and killed him: how many bran­ches of mischiefe springs from that filthy rowt? J say to thee who hath bene a drunkard, & hath bene an abuser of the benefits of God, perchance rather for the loue of company, then for the loue of drink: If thou hast remorse, and is angry at thy selfe, thou art happy. And I will entreat thee to behold the beastly behaviour of a drunkard, when he is in his drunkennes, and it will make thee hate drunkennes worse then any thing:Eccle. 26. cap. in man it is more then filthy, and in woman ten thousand times worse, because shee can not hide her owne shame. J confesse and alow that both men and women should drinke mo­deratly, for the better health of their body: but J thinke it odious, when one shall (as it were) force another to drinke more then measure, to surfet and spoile them selues to this, I say with the Italian, è qual [Page] è di pazzia signo peu expresso: Che per altri, voler perder se stesso: It is a great signe of madnes, when any bo­die for the loue of another will kill him selfe: To whom is woe? Pro. 23. Cap. to whom is sorrow? to whom is strife? to whom is murmuring? to whom are wounds without cause? (and) to whom is the rednes of the face and the eyes? euen to drunkards. This insatiable custome is so enlarged within this Iland, that it is in all sorts of estates chā ­ged from vice to vertue. How many sundry sorts of sins hath intruded them selues amongst vs; strange and new invented sinnes comes from the Court to the Countrey, like the new fashions of apparrell: how new fangled are we to follow them, discen­ding by degrees, for we may still see the baser sort striving to imitate their betters, and rather in wic­kednes then in goodnes: the Clowne striues in his fashious to follow the Gentleman, and the Court waiting Ladies is counterfaited with the Country drab, few or none followes the honest mans maners honestie, & truth are becomd banisht traytors, nor yet dare Charitie come neere Court: the civill and vpright man hath waited long in the glorious Coutts of Kings, & can not find favour, he is turned back wearied, he weeps to see a scurvie & vngodly consort of villaines, crowned with deceit, & wrapt vp in the painted robes of flatterie, in the Triumph of thieft, adorned with inequitie in the Chariot of forgetfulnesse, drawne to hell with the seaven deadly sinnes. What can heroyick spirits say to the hainous abuse of pretious time in this last and miserable age. Let him pittie forgetfulnes, and [Page 18] sigh at villanie, or rather let him turne home againe to burthen his friends when his lands are engaged, when he hath spent all, and left nothing, and when moyen and mony failed him both at once, he could not begge a suit: he could not buy an Office, nor he could not get one church benefice gratis: such was the rage of ingratitude. Let this man J say, who hath spent his time, turn; & say with that most galant mā, Awfull regard disputeth not with Kings, but takes re­pulse, and neuer asketh why. We may see what strange paines the worldling takes on him, to be ritch, what inventions, and with what great industrie: behold the Merchant what he vndertaketh, to be ritch: what restlesse travailes with great hazard of his life, compassing (as it were) the whole earth to flie po­vertie, and leaues no corner in the worlde vn­sought: Impiger extremos currit mercator ad indos per Mare Pauperiem fugiens per Saxa per ignes. Then looke againe on the Machanike or artisant, with rare inventions of his spirit: the diligent labourer of the ground, with the sweate of his bodie, and eue­rie one by lawfull or vnlawfull meanes wrings their wits, and still travailes to be ritch. Now let vs consider what it is that ritches will not doe? We may beholde and see howe it mendes all defor­mities, and oft-times transformes Vertue in Vice: first, it makes the base Poltrone proude, the foolish esteemed wise, the ignorant stoyick to be preferred. And it makes a Lord or Chiefe Commaunder, to honour a borne Rascall, and a verie slaue by Nature, hee will make him [Page] speake with a covert head, wash with him, sit at meat, and eate in his owne dish, with a flattering eare he will entertaine his discourse, somtimes with gravitie, and somtimes with smiling, as it were to giue a counterfait grace, to the ignorant Asse: why will it please his Lordship to doe all this? Because his honour thinkes such men are needefull instru­ments to ingage them selues, and become Catio­ners for the Lords debt. A help to furnish his house, to store his Citchin, and still to lend him money. O but when this poore deceaved sot, begins to be beggerd, then his Lordship presently decards him, because hee can not serue more to make vp a full hundreth. At last, this gulld rascall comes with cap in hand, with low-stouping courtesie licking the way with his slavish knees, and halfe weeping begs his owne; then his Lordship becomes deafe, and hath no more Iudas kisses to bestow on his foolish worship. What may this man thinke of him selfe, and of his deere bought courtesie, the Lord leaned on his shoulder, the Lord called him Sir, and still bad him cover his head; the Lord set him at his side, and dranke healths to him: and now when all is gone, the Lord payes him with a promise, and so bids him farewell. What will ritches doe more? it will cover villany, invent mischiefe, and bring forth treason, it betrayes beauty, and makes loue mercinarie, it corrupts justice, and with damnable deedes damnes the soule of mankinde. This desire of ritches hath made, and still makes many a man to hazard all, there is nothing but the worldling [Page 19] will doe for gold, even all in all: This made that heroyick and learned Poet crie out, Quid non mor­talia pectora Cogis auri sacra fames: What shall I say to thee who is contented with sobrietie, and caries truth in thy heart, when thou seest the great abuse of ritches, it makes thee desire no more then is suffi­cient to maintaine thee with all, yet for all this, thy good deedes perchance can not purchase it: thy Lord or Maister enranks thee with the deceaved sort, and so forgets thee! O thou, had I wist what an excellent plaister art thou for the incurable dis­ease of repentance. What a great griefe is it to the well-deserving man, who hath a promise to be rewarded, and becomes ashamed to importune his debter? but O, when he stands in his sight, what a loathsome booke, becomes he to desired forget­nes, which yeelds naught else but flattering smiles, and never performd promises. Now I speake to the young aspiring gallant, learne in time to beware at other mens harmes, Provide for age and sicknes. Looke on the aged Conrtiers, who hath spent their youth in waiting on, they goe scambling like But­chers dogs in Lentron, they are like old cart-horse, like out-worne hounds, and the very scoffe of time. Therfore when thou looks on the Anatomie of time, & hath considered the secrets thereof, O how deere should it be to thee, & how should thou behaue thy selfe in this time, to provide for the time to come, if thou be poore, who wil care for thee, suppose thou art of the most rare wit in the world, adorned and made perfit with all the chiefe, & principall gifts of [Page] nature enricht & decoird with the aditions of Art, yet for all this, if poverty hant thee, few or none shal esteeme of thee now in thy youth-head. I counsaile thee to thinke well on the time past, consider the time present, & haue a care of the time to come.

Fronte Capelata est Sed post Ocasio Calua.

SWeet louely flower, in gallant flourish faire
Whilst beautie's pray'd, doth youthfull fields decore,
Take time in time, for time in time is rare,
Once past and gone, it neuer comes no more,
Than take this time, so long as it's in store,
And hunt not toyes, to perrill thy estate:
Wise may thou be, but yet be wise before
Thou shall repent, and then it is to late:
Deere friend beleeue, I wish thy sad annoyes,
Times altring Fates may turne them all in joyes.

Learning hath no Micaenas, blinde Auarice hath ba­nished Charitie, good workes now a-dayes doeth no good, it is only naked faith that serues the turne. O happy is that man who can doe for him selfe, and puts no trust in the pinching mercie of great mens liberalitie for my owne part I say:

O That I might, then should I liue content,
And not complaine on Fortunes wotthlesse worth:
Whats gone let goe, it's I must needes repent,
Whilst silence sad, my sorrowes shall set forth:
[Page 20] My outward shew, can not bewray my hart;
I smile, but none can Iudge my inward smart.

How shall I chuse but pitty the distressed estate of other men, when Memorie calls my owne deere-bought experience to a reckoning, & thē revolues the great volumes of Fortunes strange Enigmatizing Characters, painted with the ruthlesse pensil of time, whose tragicall Map is still out-stretched before my eyes, where I finde all the flourish of my fruitlesse hopes lying Winter-blasted, and scattered with the mercilesse stormes of ingratitude.

Si ingratum dixeris omnia dixeris.

WHilst I did hazard, for vncertaine toyes
Vaine flatt'ring hope, expeld my present feares:
O haplesse I, who for momentall Joyes
Must pay long paine with sad repenting teares.
This inward griefe my burthened soule now beares
With outward shew I striue to make it light:
But when the course of by-past time compeares,
And Tragick-like out-spreads before my sight.
Euen then I giue my rigours rage all right,
With passion strange, transported here and there,
I spend the day and wast the wearying night,
Imparting plaints vnto the idle aire.
O what remedie, time past hath no remorse,
Then must I needes endure this paine perforce.

I thank my God, who with his out-stretched armes hath borne me through seas, & over land, giving his [Page] blessed Angell charge of me, who never left me in all my farre and wearisome journeyes, so that in every course and hazard of my travailes, his eyes of mercie hath ever shined on me, and many times hath he delivered me, when despairing dangers did threaten my life. All honour and glory be to thee my God, and giue me grace that my experience of time past, may governe the time te come. O this is a perrillous time, the time of mischiefe and miserie, the latter dayes full of calamitie: now is the age of deceit, when the father doth oppose himself against the sonne, the sonne against the father, brothes, and sisters, and all are at strife, every one labouring how to deceaue his friend, and every one seeking how to betray his neighbour, Bonds, Seales, Obliga­tions, Sureties, all can not serue the turne to main­taine truth: if thou haue to doe with a man of grea­ter worth then thy selfe, then be sure he will minas thee, and so pay his debts with threatnings. Wilt thou appeale him before a Judge, with new inven­ted shifts of Law he will out-wearie thee: with bri­berie he will begger thee, and thou shalt never be the better. O thou wicked oppressour, and thou false and partiall Judge, what shalt thou answer to the head Justice of heaven, when God sayes by his Prophet Ieremie, Ego sum Iudex & testis, I am both Iudge & witnes. O sayes the wicked man in his hart, I feare not God, therefore I can not loue him with my soule, nor yet can I loue my neighbour, because J envie his good estate, and covets his ritches, and would wrack him: so J owne no duty to God at all, [Page 21] nor loue to my neighbour, I scorne, spurne, & treds on the lawes of God. O let me never thinke on that terrible & fearful day of Judgement, nor of the hor­rible and endles burning paines of hel. I wil altoge­ther forget it, because it will make me despare, take away this frivolous word Religion, why? because it keeps me from my pleasures, and doeth imprison all my fleshlie liberties, the foolish man saieth in his heart,Reu. 22. cap. there is no God. He that is vnjust, let him be vnjust still, (saieth Christ) and let the deceiuer be still de­ceitfull, let him dwell in his abhominations, and triumph in all kinde of wickednesse, For behold I come shortlie, and my rewerde is with me to rander euerie man as he doeth deserue. The custome of sinne and continuall vse, makes sinne pleasant, aboundance of impietie, and couldnesse of Cha­ritie destroyes all, and makes many Atheists. What frutes of Charitie may we beholde in sun­drie Countreyes? naught else but the pittifull spe­ctacle of Envy and Malice, Oppression and Bloud­shed, Iustice wreisted with brybrie, the negligence of magistrats suffring victual and provision to parte from our Countrey, leaving derth and famine a­mongst vs, the lamētations of the poore is not heard behold the youths and scollers going idle, some be­comes marchants, or els machaniks, learning is held in disdain, Scoles, Colleges, & Vniversities are not mētaind, al decaies out of memory. O how may the hart of a true chistiā bleid to se the lamētable sight of down-fallen bridges, decayed hospitals & ruenus churches, Nunc seges vbi Sion fuit, through Holland, [Page] and in many parts of the low Countries, what great objects of destruction, what overthrowe of faire and ritch architectors, what large prospect of a­busde pollicie? and what deformation is now found in reformation? where shall the murtherer be con­demned, or the theif receaue the censure of his pu­nishment? Jn the Church, where shall the Judge heare the oathes of perjurie? Jn the Church, where shall meetings, blockings, buying, and selling be? No where but for the most part in the Church, My house (saith Christ) it should be called an house of prater, Mat. 21 but you haue made it a denne of theues. And besides all this, what sacraledge is committed, and how is the ritches, goods, and lands, (which be proper duety belongs to the Church) how are they desperst a­mongst the Commons, and keepe it (as it were) in contemp of God, O saieth Christ, Giue vnto Caesar those things which are Caesars, and giue vnto God those things which belongeth to God. The greatnes of our sins hath procured the wrath of God his punish­ment threatens vs, and his judgements are laid be­fore vs, Who can hide himselfe from Gods anger? Let vs cry out with Ieremie the Prophet, O thou sword of the Lord, Cap. 47 how long will it be ere thou cease? turne againe into thy scalbert, rest and be still. But ô, the dulnes of vnderstanding, and the arrogant strife against veritie, makes the hearts of man like Pharos hardned, and considers not this, our eares are deafe, we heare not, our eies are blinde and seeth not his great wonders, Gods displeasure comes by sinne, and nothing can appease him but repentance. But [Page 22] the divell who is prince of this world stands like the master of a faire lotry, and foolish mankinde looks vpon his deceauing vanities; at last their sight being insnarde, and their heart tempted with his glitte­ring allurements, they hazard their soule in hope of gaine. O man, how art thou deceaved, and how many strange wayes seekst thou to come to the kingdome of heauen?Mat. 7. Many cryes Lord, Lord, that shall not enter in the Kingdome of our Lord. Many pro­fesses Christ, that shal never be pertaker of Christs glory. What a great consort of Antechristians are now desperst amongst Christians. Reuel. cap. 13. Now is the mo­ther of whoredomes mounted vpon the seven headed best, that ten-crownd-hornd Monster, that oulde Dragon the divell,17. cap. hath given him his power, and hath giuen the beast authoritie, and hath printed on his fore-head the name of Blasphlemie, he spews, and vomets forth vncleane spirits, which are Ambassa­ders to inlarge the kingdome of Sathan, Bahilon is drunke with the bloude of Saints, and with the bloud of Marters of Iesus Christ, the pittifull lamen­tation of the Church, spoken be the Prophet in the person of our Saviour, Ier. 1. cap. saying, Haue ye uo regarde all ye that passe by this way, behold and see, if there be any sor­row like vnto my sorrow. Our long suffring GOD at last being forst to speake, I haue long time (saieth he) holden my peace, I haue bene still and refrained my selfe▪ now will I cry like a trauelling woman, and I shall both de­stroy and deuoure at once. In that day of Gods wrath what shall the Idoles of the Gentiles helpe thee made of gould and silver, the workmanship of mans [Page] hands, they haue a mouth and speakes not, they haue eies and sees not, and they haue eares and heares not, such sensles stocks and stones can not helpe thee. The Prophet David cryes out, Similes illis siaut, qui faciunt ea, & omnes qui considunt in eis. Let them be lyke vnto Idoles who maketh them, and let them be deafe, dumbe, and blinde, let them be altogether senslesse who putteth their trust in them; GOD is a Jelous God, he will not be mocked, nor deceived, he knoweth all them who boweth their knies to Baall, and looks on the filthines of them who commits fornication with the whore of Babel, He hath marked all them that drinks the poysonus dregs of her abhominations, what answere giues the dissembling Hypocrite to this? O saieth he, I did it to saue my life, my lands, and my possessions, or to get miantainance to sustaine me. O thou faint-hearted coward, thou fearst that man who hath power to kill the bodie onely,Mat. 10 cap. but thou fearst not God who hath power to kil both soule & bodie, and to cast thee in hels fire. If thou think ei­ther ritches, thy wife, or thy children, or thy Coun­trie, better then Iesus Christ, thou art not worthie of him, nor thou shalt never be pertaker with him in glorie. Yet thou wilt reason farther, and say, O I did it onely in outward shew of body but not with my heart. Now I will aske thee againe? if thou had a wife whom thou loued well, and if thou fand thy wyfe, lying in the bosome of a stranger, adulterat­ting her body? would thou not say, O wife thou hast wronged me, thou hast violated thy matrimoniall [Page 23] vowe before God, the world and me: Then if she should say, dear husband, I haue lent this man one­ly my bodie, but I keepe my heart to you, what a vil­lanous excuse wolde this be? wolde thou not repu­deat her,Reue. 3. cap. abandon her, and forsake her? Even so will our living God doe to thee, he will spew thee out of his mouth, because thou art neither hote nor colde. And yet for all this, hear the comfortable speech of God his kinde intretie, his vnspeakable mercie (saieth he) Although the man forsake his wyfe for her adulterie, yet I will not forsake thee; Ier. 3. cap. thou hast played the harlot with many louers, after many strange Gods hast thou gone astray turne againe to me, saith the Lord. I will receaue thee, & if thou wilt not turn again, what saith the Prophet Dauid, Nisi conuersi fuerit is gladium suum vibrauit, ar­cum suum tetendit & par auit illū. Psal. 7. If thou convert not, God hath sharped his sword, he hath bent his bow, & made it readie. O that it wold please God to end the discord amongst Christians, & that they would goe against the Turks, Iews & Infidels, either to con­vert them, or else to confound them, Vt edificentur muri Hierusalem, that the walles of Ierusalem may be builded. These are the latter daies wherin we stager with the drunknes of sin, & the dulnes of our vnder­standing can not reach to this, the hypocrit wil sigh & grone at a preaching, & be his behavior he wil appear to the world to be a reformd mā. But ô the vil­lain wil not make restititutiō of wrangous geir, nor wil pay duety for oppression, so that the iniquitie of the impious & hypocriticall presitian leans alwaies to the mercy of God, they never think on his justice [Page] O ignorant foole, is he GOD of mercie, so is he GOD of Justice,Deut. cap. 32. Vengence is mine (saith the Lord) I visit the sinnes of the fathers vpon the third and fourth generations. Exod. cap. 20. Want of feare makes the sinner sensles, they builde so much on faith, that the pride of their faith makes them faithles: in whom I (say againe) shall the vpright man trust when the world is so full of deceitfull villany? Beware of that man (sayeth the Italian) who giues thee fairer words then he was wont to giue thee, for he is either minded to deceaue thee, or else he hath deceaved thee alrea­die, then againe the Italian cryes out, De gli 'amici mei guarda me dio d' gli inimici mei, guardro benio. And yet for all this, what if a man had Argus eies to watch deceit? Yet hee may be deceiued, such is the craft of the subtle deceiuer. O thou deceiving Hypocrasie, what an Eie-blinding behaviour? What an externall shew of chirping pietie putst thou on to mask thy damnable deiling? The pride and envy of the heart, covered with out-ward dissi­mulation, seemes to correct vyce, and spit at sinne, thou walkst on the streets with a down-east look to Hell? thy modest apparell is the onely coverture of Gluttonie, Ambit on and Venery, this is the true gar­ment of civilitie, thy common and smooth spea­ches, is all compunde with borrowed spcriptures, thy be yea and na is no swearing, but both crost and curst is he who beleeues thee, Quoniam non est in ore cornm veritas. How brauelie doeth S. Peter paint such men in their owne collours when he saieth,2 Epist 2. cap. Through couetousnes shall they with fained words, make [Page 24] marchandries of you, their judgement is not far off, and their damnation sleepeth not. And againe, heare what our Saviour cries out, O generation of Vipers, how can you speake goode things, when you are euill your selues. Thou atr a sighing [...]ulla-fidian brother, who is not ashamed to call thy selfe a brother in Christ, sigh & sob forth thy villanie, and be dambd. How many (and wondrous) damned sectes and opinions are spred on the face of the earth, and every one to af­firme their owne erraesie, will lay hand on Scrip­ture, wresting the word of GOD to be a warant to their dreaming inventions. O thou Religion how art thou changed? And with what strange and divers collours art thou painted with? How is thy face dis­figurd, and thy apperrell polluted? And with in grate wormes of the Earth, how art thou trans­formde? How can the simple soule knowe thee? Or to what hand shall he turne to, when so many con­trare opinions are at such a miserable strife?2. Cor. 4. cap. It is onely to the humble heart that the treuth is mani­fested, and the true passage of Heaven is discove­red,Esay. 2. cap. because Iesus Christ hath placed his Tabernacle in the Soone, and he hath builded his Church like a great Cittie on the top of a Mountaine,Mat. 5. blind Ar­rogance can not (nor will not) see it.Eph. 5. cap. Our Saviour, hath bought it with no lesse price, then the price of himself, he hath made it a glorious Church without spot or wrinkle, hauing no blame at all. Let Here­ticks bark, and hellish spirits rage against the truth, what then? Et porti inferi non preualerunt. Let dete­stable errors, and all the authors of sects, let all [Page] such vipers, (I say) turne their infectious stings in their owne bosomes, Sed vestrum quis basiliscus erit, woe be vnto you adulterers of Gods word, and woe he vnto you, who shuts vp the kingdome of heauen before men, Mat. 23 cap. for you your selues will not enter, nor will ye suffer them to enter who willinglie wolde enter. O serpents the generation of Vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of Hell. Dira tibi cum sis vt Cham, execratio certa est, nam matrem rides, risit ut ille patrem. Ye shall knowe them be their frutes of vain-glorie, Mat. 7. cap. pryde, emulation, sedition, contention, and vndantoned lust of the flesh. And more then all this, you shall knowe them by vnpardonable sinnes against the holie Gh [...]st, to wit, Impugnatio veritatis, inuidentia fraternae gratiae, Mat. 12 cap. presumptio, impenitentia, obstinatio, & disperatio. The haynous blasphlemie against the holy Ghost shall never be forgiuen in this world, nor in the world to come,Deu. 32. cap. For their vine is of the vine of Sodome and Gomorach, ther grapes are of gall, their clu­sters are most bitter, their vines are the poyson of Dra­gons, and of the cruell gall of Cockatrises. O thou man of God, J request thee to say with the Prophet Da­uid, Iudica me Deus, & decerne causam meam, de gente non sancta ab homine iniquo & doloso erue me Deus. Let wisdome furnish the patience, to contrare-poyson the contagious teeth of such mad dogs in these Ca­nicular dayes, what detestable a thing is it, to see and heare a fraternitie of obstinat ignorants, barking (a­mongst themselues, at their owne errors, to spoyle scripture, wrong Religion, and pratle of divinitie, stil arrogant and euer scorning to be censurde with the [Page 24] more auncient and grauer judgements. Jt is no wonder, but the wonder of this (wondrous error) should make the hearers amasd. Who would not smyle at the gesture of a young Philosophical fellow (who in his youth-heid hes bene anointed with O­leum Philosophorum) to hear him in his tedeus talk of Jugling sophestry, in superfluous circumlocutions, in his far-fetched exemples, in base applications, & in a never-ending discourse, seemeth to himselfe a most rare scoller by art, & then by nature he proues not else but a redicolus foole; these are they whom the Apostle S. Paul bids you be ware of, that their vain deceiuing Philosophy corrupt you not, which are not else but the traditions of men. Let al men of a soled vn­derstanding allow the Spanish Proverb,Colos 2. cap. A palabras locas orejas surdas, y que a mucho hablar, mucho errar, The Charleton or as the Dutch-man cals him, the Quick-siluer. This cogging raskall will stand vpon a Market place, and there with a boulde erre­cted face, he will beginne and tell of many inven­ted miracles, how his Oyles and Waters hath done such rare wonders in restoring health to the disea­sed persons, in curing (as it were) incurable wounds and presentlie he will produce some fained Char­ter seald with walx to approue his villanie, and be this meanes he perswades poore ignorants to buye his poysoning drogs. This is he who will vndertake to mend any thing what-som-ever. The Mutebanky in Italie are not so full of deceit, but I grant in their subtle villanies, they goe farre be­yond them, yet they are lesse hurtefull to their [Page] auditors, and are more merry with lesse offence, yet I will not purge them of knavery. Who is a more selfe-deceiving foole in wisedome? or who is a greater Asse? then a Prognostication-maker, who saieth, that the Conjectures, which they haue is founded vpon probabylities, and not vpon ab­solut necessities, & so consequētly, the most perfite Prognosticators somtimes must erre; but why may not ane Astronomicall villaine, joynd with a drea­ming Astrologitian villan, make and invent leisings, it is they who will take vpon them to tell whats to come, and seeke to prejudge God of his glorie, it is they who wil tell the alterations of time, the change of weather, and in what estate a mans bodie shall be in, for that yeare into come. I thinke such For­tun-tellers or such Aegiptian-palmisters, when they set downe such Physicall rules to a man or womans bodie, should be prejuditiall to the wise Physitian, because he lives him nothing to say, seeing he in his Mathematicall humor circumvolves the Hea­vens, and so audatiouslie intrudes himselfe in the secreetes of the Omnipotent GOD. But as for you ignorant Medicenars, I thinke you are not much prejudged, because your opinion is doubt­some, your judgement is voyde of vnderstanding, and your experience is naught else but meere poyson. And I say vnto you with learned An­tonie d' Guevara, Medesyns de Valance, longues ro­bes & peu de sciance▪ But you whom I honour and reverence, that you may rather allow (I meane you who feares GOD) and whose vnderstanding [Page 25] is great) I hope (ye, I say) will excuse me to raile vpon the abuse of this rare and wonderfull Scy­ence. The Booke of GOD sayeth, Honour the Physitian with that honour which is dewe vnto him, because of necessitie, Eccl. 38 cap. for the Lord hath created him. Then I will speake against such phantastick fel­lowes, which I haue seene heere in this Isle of Bri­taine, and in many other forraine Countries (where I haue travelled) professe the Art of Medicine, and produce their great Charters, and Patents, sealde and subscrived where they haue bene made Do­ctors, and then they are noght else but the very a­busers of Physick, what a derision is it, to heare & se Domine Doctor discourse with a borrowed Counte­nance, and commonly at meat over the table, with­out respect of persons? O saith he, you must not eate of this, it offends the stomack; such and such is re­storatiue, and this againe breeds constipation, this is laxatiue, this breakes winde, and expels the Collick, and this is your onely meat for confirmde stones, it purges the raines, and dissolues quickly, O what a scurvy discourse is this for the ears of a chest and skunring-hearted Ladie? and cheefly at meat to talk of confirmde stones, purging of raines, and dis­solving quickly. Fy vpon it, I thinke it should not be suffred, & yet for the fashions sake, my Lord Doctor will not spare to produce some place of Gallein to make his leysings good and currant. Then begin­neth he to frame a large Comenter vpon a borrow­ed text, interluding such a long Parenthesis, till at last his haulting speeches makes him altogeher [Page] forget the origenall of his former subject. O how will he hesitat when his long discourse beginnes to challenge memory, then obruptly will he change purpose not vnlike a bloud-hound which hath lost his sent. Woe be to poore patients comes vnder the Cure of such ignorants, who scarce can de­scerne a docken leafe from Tobacco. And yet he will say, that he is a rare herbest, how oft he visits the sick, as oft must he visit gould, or else his visitation is stark naught: When he feeleth the punses of any diseased person, O saieth he, it is an Ague, a raging fever, houlde you warme, keepe your selfe quiet, let no bodie molest you, I will come againe, and see your water: Then the next time he comes with a consort of Cut-throts like himselfe, and after many whispering doubts, they call the Apotechar, and giues him a Recepie of I knowe not what, which poysones the poore distressed patient, and so sends him to his everlasting home. Then doeth their ig­norance lay the fault on God, or else on the poore Patient, saying, he would not be reuld, nor com­manded, he would not obey their precepts; and they make the man or the woman author of their owne death. When the Painter is asked why he left his trade of painting to become a Doctor of Physick. O said he, when I was a Painter, all the world saw my errors, but now being a Doctor of Physick, I make the earth to burie my wrongs, they seeke forth the life and ritches of mankinde. Well may such ignorants be calde, the Officers of death, for the life of mankinde, is the tryell of their drinks, [Page 26] and with their poysning drogs, they furnish graues, and feeds wormes. When the Patient is dead, the Doctor must be payde for all his visitations, the A­potechar for his drogs, the Barber for his Insitions, Fmmetings, Vnguents, Cataplasms, Emplasterings, Balmes, and mollefying Ceir-cloaths, this must all be payed and much more. What if worse, none except it be Charlytous, Brokers, and Vsurars, flesh-flees, that still gnawes vpon glad backs, bloud-suckers, & a contagious pest to a cōmon-wealth. Why should not such devoring gulfs be discovered? and why should not such hulcerous phisters be bard and ten­ted, & Rogry striped naked? wno should not vnmask the worlds shedowed villanie? The beggerly inven­tiō of a subtle Pandros, the exploits & tricks of a mer­cenary whore, the fals reckoning host, the marchants perjurie, and the Lawyer deceit; but O I doe not meane be that Lawyer whose conscience and soule is not spotted with murthering brybrie, who hath compassion on the poore complainour, and taketh the tears of the distressed widow for good paymēt: No, I meane be a Ianus-headed Lawyer who hath one face to his Clayant, & another to the Compeditor, whose ever-gaiping hand must still be anoynted in the Palme with the holie ounction of Gould, who must be courted like a whore with the sight of Angels, strange peeces of gould, and purse pennies. Woe be to many heart-tortred Clyants, whose right dependes vpon the defence of an a­varitious Lawyer. It is such poore soules who hath their ever-warsling mindes intreacated in a La­borinth [Page] of woes, circumveind with innumerable fasheries, and still deceived with delayes.

Patientia pauperum non peribit in finem.

Therefore, O man, arme thy selfe with Patience in this miserable time, and couragiouslie fight it out; for so long as thou art heer into this little pro­gresse of thy lyfe, great is thy battell, and many are thy miseries which doeth oppose themselues against thee; like vnto the restlesse motion of the sea, one trouble being gone, another fol­lowes. Many sorrowes, and few pleasures, when we expect joy, then comes greefe, every one hath their owne crosse, some les, some more. As poverty to an honest heart brings misery, greef of minde, & melancholy, because he conceals his want, and can not practise shameles shifts to perrell honesty, sick­nes, & many a languishing disease, which is lade be­fore mankinde. Oppression, when thy betters doeth abuse thee, taks thy wealth, & thy lands, puts the wi­dow and the fatherles to begry. Lose of friends; when they who shuld help thee are gone, & hes no body to comfort thee in thy destres. Ship-wrack when thy substance is lost by sea, & thy life indangered. Banishment, when thou in a strange country, becomes a poore stranger, far from thy own soyle, thou liuest an out-cast, and thy enemies injoyes thy ritches at home. Prison, when the crosse of rancountring mis­fortunes, doth imprison many a man within a Jaill, or casts him in chaines within a Galies, triumpht o­ver with Raskals (and as it were) the very resting [Page 27] place of all wrongs, when a gentle heart is forst to harbor patience; and when revenge in a gallant breast turns coward, O this earthly hell, which hes no other Musick, but locking of doores, the noise of irons and chains, the heavy complaint of distressed prisoners, lockt with bonds in misery, consuming in stink and filthines. This said the Apostle S. Taul, Re­member them that are in bonds, as if ye wer in bonds with them, so that every one aught by charitable works to haue compassion on the poore distressed prisoners. Saith not the Prophet Dauid with great grief of hart Let the sighing of the prisoners come before thee O Lord: as though he wold say, O Lord God, consider the great anguish of their hearts, take mercy on them, and releue their wants, how heavy and comfortles is this grievous cros. Some again are crost with lose of honor, when a man either falles in disgrace, and commits some base and filthy fact, or when he suf­fers wrong, and can not repare himself, the crosse of mariage where there is no peace, quietnes, nor rest, voyde of all contentment, and ever barking, and so makes the devill smyl at their dissention. And what can be said to the crosse of idle loue, which hangs on the shoulders of all sortes of people, as well ma­ried as vnmaried. In this Frenasy many ould do­tardes beginnes to renue their declyning age, and takes vpon them the apprehension of youth­heid, whilst their gray haires, and hairles heads, reckones vp their yeares, and telles the worlde their folly, Turpe senilis amor, it is more tollera­ble in youth, so that it be not superstitious loue; [Page] as sometimes to fast from meate and drink, watch­ing the nights, and sending their lamentations written with bloudie letters, railling on crueltie; and being alone in their retearing walks, they sur­fat the solitarie deserts with the sorrowfull voice of a discontented minde, with weeping eies in splaine of passion, O saieth he,

THe furious force of loues consuming fire,
No tyme can quench, nor thoght can not expell:
Such is the restles rage of my desire,
Which makes my wits within my selfe rebell:
Thus am I wrongd, and euer saikles slaine,
I shift my place, but can not shift my paine.

They ever esteeme their paines worse then the paines of hell, such are the sort of penetential lovers, who are alwaies Anatomisd with humorous follie. & yet how often comes it to passe, that they who taks most pains to please, are most displeasd, for it is knowne be vnfallable experience, that the duetifull lover in a respected persute, is often rejected with many ingratfull disdains. For some they are which are Monsters in the womanish sex, will hate that man most, who loues her best, and yeeld her self to a cowardly pultron of no desert. And againe, we may evidently see, how some men of a currish & mastish kinde, will be most carelesse of that woman who is most carefull of him. Such are the vnthankfull dis­cords and interviewing controversies, of this fri­volous thing which the world calleth Blinde-loue, it is not the ritch apparell, nor the rare bewtie, [Page 29] nor the art of curious engines, nor yet is it the gor­geous gesture of a glorious woman, which makes the woman: it is the good education, which brings forth good qualities, & it is the vertue of the mind, which doeth produce discretion, makes the wo­man a perfit woman; and that man, may truly be called a perfit man, who makes wisedome the vn­seperable companion of valour, whose liberall minde aymes at honour, and whose couragious heart treads on feare to conques fame. O it is not the externall shew of a Peacocks pride, who with the gesture of his painted plumes, seemes to threaten Kingdomes: it is not the man of personage, nor the robust nature, neither is it the quantitie, but onely the qualitie doth the turne. A woman may seeme very coy in braue attire, with a faire face, and yet a whore: a man may be cloathed in fine cloathes, he may be very strong of body, of a great stature, and he may in a fearelesse humor discourse of va­lour, but when it comes to the push of Fortune, he may proue naught else but a faint-hearted-coward, a turne-back to courage, and a runne-away from honour. What a world of vanity is it to see a pain­ted fellow, that can doe nothing else but court a woman, how effeminate will he be, and how pro­digall will the tongue be to lend vowes to the hart:

Nec jura retine, veneris per juria venti
irrita, per terras & freta longa ferunt.

How perrillous is it to beleeue a Lover, how temp­ting will their words be, and how will they straine them selues to speake with vehemencie. Lady Re­thorick [Page] ever hants the mouth of a Lover, and with borrowed speeches of braver wits, doeth enlarge their deceit, his perjured promises, his oathes, his vowes, his protestations, his waiting-on, and all his iron sences drawen to feed vpon the actractiue humors of her Adamantall beautie, as when the song or lisping speech of a Syranicall wench doth enchaunt his eares, the feeling of her too-much tempting flesh, doth intangle his touch, her perfu­med breath doth sweeten his smell, the nectar of her lascivious kissing, giues delicacie to his taste, and her petulant beautie feedes his sight, her smile is his heaven, & her frown is his hell, she is the only idoll of his minde, for when he should serue God, he worships her, if hee comes to Church, his loo­king on her behaviour takes away his hearing, robs him of devotion, and makes him a sencelesse blocke, with staring in her face, hee learnes the Arte of Phisiognomie, his vaine apprehentions will reade a womans thought in her visage, and when hee lookes on her hands, O then hee be­comes a rare Palmister, for hee will not spare to reade her fortunes by lynes, for heere (sayes hee) is the true score of death, and there goes the score of life, from this part comes the venerian score, and if this close with that, ye may be as­sured to loose your Mayden-head, it is onely this makes the too-much beleeving wenches despaire of their virginitie, his braines are tormented with new inventions, fancie leades him to a fren­sie, next lunaticke, and if hee escape madnesse it [Page 30] selfe, hee may thanke GOD. Hee spendes the time in his Chamber, with no other thing but with a great Looking-glasse, how to take off his Hatt, how to make his gesture, and in a discourse how to frame the motion of his hands, to kisse his finger, to make courtesie with his legge, to set his arme, to smile, to looke aside, to walke, and then hee stands gazing on the full proporti­on of his owne bodie, which J sweare is not else but the verie true image of superstitious vanitie. When the Mistresse of his desires beholdes the Lovers dilligent attendance, then to keepe the Lover still proude in a slavish service, often times shee will in a willing sloathfulnesse, make her Gloue or anie such thing fall, that hee stouping may attaine to that looked-for-honour, to kisse what hee takes vp, and so receaue a smile for his offitious humour: Hee will entertaine her dogge, keepe her Fanne, call to light Torches, holde vp the Tapestrie, bring the Coach, and with a loude voyce hee will call, to make way for my Lady, to make vowes, weare favours, and doe pennance, they are the true follies of idle loue, but once beeing cooled of that hote and luna­ticke frenzie, O howe will hee then blush at his owne folly, when hee beginnes to examine his wits, and considers with him selfe how farre hee hath gone astray. But what can be saide to such who wants grace to make a retreat, but still dwels in that endlesse miserie, they never wearie, but thinkes all slavish paines pleasure, some by [Page] night with musick, some with walking in her sight, some with gifts, songs, letters, and convoyes, every one by degree doeth pouse his Fortune, and every one by degrees counterfets their betters. I often smiled to see a Pandorly-fustian-Rascall, lead a mer­cinarie-Perpetuana-drab, there is nothing invented and put in practise by higher estates, but the baser sort doe still striue to imitate, and chiefly in appar­rell. It is most true that a man is to be commended, if he be cleanly, and chiefly in his linings, his haire well dressed, his beard well brushed, and alwayes his vpper lip well curled, with an fresado vp-start, as if every haire would threaten to pull out his eyes, for if he chance to kisse a Gentlewoman, some re­bellious haire may happen to startle in her nose, and make her sneese, so by this meanes, he applies both phisick & courtesie at one time, then he may freely say, God blesse you Lady, receaving back the chirping Eccho of I thenk you sir. But looke a­gaine on the other part of snotty nosd Gentlemen, with their drouping mustaches covering their mouth, and becomes a harbroy to meldrops, and a sucking sponge to al the watery distillations of the head, he will not spare but drinke with any bodie whatsoever, and after hee hath washed his filthie beard in the cup, and drawing out dropping, he wil suck the haire so hartily with his vnder lip. I aske at Civility, if such a poysonnous sup can be whol­some? of if the kisse of such a slavering mouth be sweet? Farre may such beastly filthinesse be from handsome and perfit men, who stil attends vpon the [Page 31] handy labour of pittifull Ladies, if a Lady be a per­fit woman indeede, and still aymes at honestie: what although she hit not the marke of gentilitie? yet the pendicles of her desires should be cleanly: as she her selfe is most daintie, neate, pollite, and fine in all things, and chiefly in her sleeping cham­ber, to see the whitenes of her linings, the clean­linesse of her night-cloathes, her chamber-pot fil­led with sweet flowers (to stay the stur of water) her perfumed odours, sweet-washing-balls, Poman­ders, sundry sorts of smelling waters, fannes, hatts, feathers, glasses, combs, brouches, ruffes, falling­bands, red and white face-colours, scarfes, vardin­gales, artifitiall locks of curled haire, with vp-stan­ding-frisadoes, their smoothing-skin-clouts, night-smocks, muffels, maskes, petticotes, waistcoates, gownes, picadels, attires, chaines, carkats, cases, coffers, boxes, and many things more, that if a man intrude him selfe in a Ladies bed-chamber, & look vpon every thing about him, he shal think him selfe to be no else where, but in an evil deformed shop of Merchandise. But on the other part, looke vpon filthinesse it selfe, when some women in a sluttish estate, hath their bed-chamber like a swines-stie, ill-favoured (and vnscoured) Pispot, their combs and brushes, full of loose haire and filth, their foule smocks ill laid-vp, their knotty phlegme and spet­ting on the walls and floore, the black and slaverie circle on their lips, sweating, smoaking, and broa­thing in their vncleane-sheetes, that if any would hold their head within the bed, I thinke the strong [Page] smell were an excellent preservatiue against the Pest, and none like it, except it be the jumbling of a Jakes, or of a Close-stoole: for it is a true Max­eme, that the force of such odious and hatefull smells, doth occupie the sence, and holdes out the pestiferous aire of the Plague, GOD forbid, but the beastly filthinesse of some women, should make the delicate and fine fashions of other wo­men (who are civill and honest) appeare pleasant. And even so, why should not the graue and good life of a discreete woman (who feares GOD) make the filthie fashions of an harlot (whose acti­ons are most abhominable) appeare loathsome to the world? and still to be disdained and hated of all honest Matrones. What a monstrous thing is it, when a shamelesse woman caries the jewell of im­pudencie on her fore-head, giving her boldnesse to exploit any thing, and to execute all her fil­thie actions without anie reguard: Farre be it from mee to crie out against the modest Matrone, the chaste Widowe, or yet to misconster the ci­vill behaviour of an honest Virgine, whose edu­cation is true Vertue, who resolues constantlie, and performes wisely, and whose doubtsome acti­ons, are all mixtured with feare, and accompa­nied with a Virgine blush, in everie thing dis­creete, a graue gesture, a spotlesse speech, a mo­derate smile, and a chaste minde, and whose thoughts are not polluted with leacherous ex­ploites: Such sort of women are to be valued at a high price, they are of great worth, and most [Page 32] worthie to be honoured and esteemed of by all men, when vilde and brutish women (that is rob­bed of all vertue, and loaden with vice) makes the transparent perfection of a good woman seeme glorious to the secret sight of God, and to the out­ward shew of the world? so J do what I can to imi­tate the skild Painter, who makes a darke shadow, giue a bright luster (& an shining life) to his vpright colours. Why should not filthie kennels avoyde the corrupted excraments of Nature from faire streetes? And why should I not striue to make an honest behaviour, spurne at a shamelesse gesture? and I doe not doubt but the wiser sort will spurne at the increase of such superstitious vanities that are in this present age, and the great aboundance of idle, strange, and new invented toyes: as when some women deckes and trimmes them­selues of purpose to tempt the eyes of man. And setting forth their wantonnesse (which is com­pounded of all kinde of farre-fetched fashions) that everie one may reade in their apparrell, as it were in a Cart. The description of all forraine Countries, with such new additions of Art, as seemes in dumbe shewes, to say, What lacke you Gentlemen. This sort of women doe not follow the commaund of Saint Paul, 1. Timo. 2. cap. 3. Cap. That a woman should be ar­rayed in comely apparrell, with shamefastnesse and mode­stie: And what sayes the Prophet Isaiah, The daugh­ters of Sion are haughtie, and walke with stretched out necks, and with wandring eyes, walking and minsing as they goe, making a tinkling with their feet. And what [Page] sayes he more,5. Cap. Woe be vnto them, that draw iniquitie with the cords of vanitie, And are not these things the true cords of vanitie, which drawes both man and women to eternall destruction: Our Saviour affirmes it,5. Math. 5. Cap. saying: Whosoeuer looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath cōmitted adulterie with her in his hart. And for all this, how often falls men vpon the stum­bling blocks of iniquitie: the wise man sayes, Stum­ble not at the beautie of a woman, beware of all her insna­ring-engines, for they are many and very tempting.

CAn not thy eyes, the eyes of man command:
Hath not thy face sufficient force to kill,
But that thou must vngloue thy juorie hand,
Whose beautie robs proud Cupid of his skill:
So with thy hand thou shootes Cupidous darts,
And shootes at naught but at poore Lovers harts.

But how can that man eschew, such fleshly tempta­tions, who makes their companie his summum bo­num, when all his felicity is placed vpon their daun­cing, singing, speaking, playing, and with sweet and serious notes (moving her fingers vpon a Violl d'Gambo) enchants his eares, and allures his sight. Can a man (sayes Salomon) take fire in his bosome, 6. Cap. and his cloathes not be burnt, As he would say, can a man hant the companie of wanton women, and not be allured with their lascivious stratagems, when a man beholds their legges cloathed with silke stoc­kins, ritch garters, fine pearled and well wrought smocks. Such Hermophradites, such pretty tempting [Page 33] instruments with tenne thousand more artificiall tricks, which doeth enrage the lustfull man, and makes him,

Fremitando Come vno Stallone, che à veduta la Caualla.

SOme Martiall men bewitch'd with beautie rare,
Are intricate in Laborinths of Loue:
And forc'd to trie in fancies flatt'ring snare,
What sweet-mixt-sowre or pleasing paines can proue.
Then Nymph-like-she with strange inticing looke
Doth so enchant the gallant minded men,
The bayte still hides the poyson of the hooke
Till they be fast, and thus betray'd, what then?
Poore captiue slaues in bondage prostrate lies,
Yeelding vnto her mercie-wanting-wîll:
She in disdaine scornes all their carefull-cries,
And Circes-like triumphes in learned skill.
With ambling trips of beauties gorgeous grace,
Aurora-like in firie colours clad,
And with bright reflex of her fairest face,
She tempting goes with brainsick humors lad.
Fearing that if she should but looke below,
Then Beames would from her burning eyes descend
On Juorie brest proud swelling hils of snow
Would melt, consume, and all their beauty spend.
And so she lets her curled lockes downe fall,
Which doe allure the gentle cooling winde
To come and play, still wrapping vp in thrall
Chaines of her haire, fond Louers hearts to binde.
Beautie in prime adorn'd doth feede the sight
From crimson lips sweet Nectars gust forth flowes
Odours perfumes the breath, not Natures right
White Iuorie hands a sacred touch bestowes.
And when those pearle of Orientall-rankes
With treasure rich of tempting sound deuides
From two bright daintie mouing-corall-bankes
In-circkled eares calme smoothing speeches slides.
Each sencelesse sence on doting pleasure fast
Doth in a carelesse Register inroule:
Wishing that course of swift-wing'd Time to last,
Which spots the spotlesse substance of the soule.
But oh behold, Nature in mourning weede
Weepes to be wrong'd with superstitious Art,
For what can braines of rare inuention breede?
Or what's vnsought which pleasure may impart?
The sharpest wit whose quicke deceauing still
Makes restlesse musing of their minde to trie
Ʋaine trifling snares, mixtur'd with Magicks skill,
So Art adds that which Nature doth denie.
And thus much more sweet Syrens songs she sounds,
To charme, conjure, and tempt his listning eare:
Oh, then the poore Captiued wretch abounds
In peruerse vowes, and monstrous oathes to sweare.
By furious force of Fancie more than mad,
With fond desire in restlesse course he hunts:
Blinde Loue can not discerne the good from bad,
When on the eye-plum'd tayle of pride it mounts.
The curious minde makes choise of good or ill,
Then scales the Fort of his Engine to clym
Aboue the top of Art exceeding skill,
Perfect in that predominates in him.
Drunke with the wonders of a worthlesse worth,
From prospect of a looking-glasse he takes
Strange Apish trickes to set his folly forth,
Mock'd with the gesture that his shadow makes.
When foolish feates no waies will serue his turne,
All hope is drown'd in despaires groundlesse deepe:
In restlesse bed (he martir'd man) must mourne,
Thoughts, sighes, and teares admit no kind of sleepe.
Thus layes the Conquest Conquerour of fields
On his hurt heart he caries Cupids skarre.
The scuruie fainting Coward basely yields
To idle Loue the enemie of warre.
Now Trumpets sound, braue Martiall musick turnes
To fidling noise, or else some am'rous song,
That glorious Fame her wings of worth now burnes,
When golden youth in prime must suffer wrong.
Thus gallant sprights doe quintesence their wits,
Spending the rare invention of their braines
On idle toyes, at which high honor spits,
Nor memoriz'd memorials remaines.

IS it not said? that faire windowes, lascivious lookes, curled locks, the discovered mountaines of the moving breast, often crossing of streetes, and the hanting of assemblies, are the true harbingers, and fore-runners of venarie. A leacherous bed, is commonly decored with all kinde of allurements, for the better execution of vulgar actions, and the secret discharge of Ʋenus lascivious misteries, pain­ted with the true colours of Ouids works, as the dis­guising of naked Gods, and Ʋenus dallying with Adonis, Tarquin at strife with Lucrece, Hero sporting with Leander, and such other wanton Objects with prettie conceites, to encourage the vnwilling, and to warme the cold humor of frostie desires: besides all this, the sheetes must be perfumed, and sundry fine drying cloathes, some well furnished glasses of delicate reviving liquors, to giue a new life, and to make a more swift resurrection to the fatigated creatures. The often change & mixtures of many sundry natures, doth hinder the propagation and issue of children, and so reguardlesse women by [Page 35] this meanes giues lust free libertie, so to the eyes of the world, with simple denials they liue long ho­nest. There is nothing more profitable to a Tavern, then well-skilled (and pretty wenches) it makes the wine to haue an excellent gust, it covers the imper­fections of the house, and giues a Curtaine to all kinde of corruption. To mercenarie women all sorts of men are welcome, the Clowne as well as the Courtier, the Rascall, the Gentleman, the Boy as well as the Maister, it is onely gold and gifts makes choise, if they conceaue with childe, what then? some women fearelesse of Gods heavie wrath, will take drinks to destroy her conception, and so commits a murther against Nature: and what's more against Nature, then that abhomina­ble sinne of Sodomie? O what filthy and strange in­ventions hath mankinde, to sloken the fierie lust of the flesh? but beholde what is the end of all such filthinesse, such beastly lust, worse then beastly, be­cause the brute beasts keepes the rule and direction of Nature, & they against Nature hath no appoin­ted time in particular, but takes their time in all maner of times. And I say againe, what is the end of this abhomination? and what reward hath God prepared for such wilde creatures, Gli scadali, Gli homicidi, la pregione, le Crapuli, gli morbi, ele bestem­mie, sono la legitima prole del putanisimo, They are the true children of whoring, & the true off-spring of filthy lust: the tormented Italian lying martired, cries out, Donna ma fatto, E donna ma disfatto. Who should pittie such sort of miserable Caitiues?

Non si doilga d'altrui, non si lamenti,
Chi da Cagion, ai sui propitormenti:

That honest and vniversall woman, Mistres Werolle gaue a generall command, that Mounsieur Camuis should by no meanes brangell his joynts, nor yet play at Iaktaleg: Is it not said, that fire, water, and women, are the greatest three daungers in this world. The old and learned Father giving his opi­nion of the lustfull person, and what harme it brings with it, he sayes, Luxuria sensum habetat, confundit intellectum, memoriam obdurat, euacuat sensum, obnu­bilat visum, reddit hominem pallidum ac foeàum, senec­tutem inducit, mortem deni (que) maturat. All these mi­serable things are the true revenewes of leacherie, when vanishing beautie begins to decay, and then lookes in a Mirror, then it shall see the strange ru­ines of time, the wrinkled impression of vnwel­come age, which blinde vanitie never did looke for: they shall beholde their eyes sunke in their head, and their face all disfigured. Let the most beautifull body that ever was in the world, be but foure houres deprived of life: how hard favoured will it be? how loathsome both to the sight and smell will it become? then where shall the Prophet of Painting be? where is the vertue of complexi­ons? and where is all the Engines that did abuse beautie? all thy fairding can not helpe the defects of Nature, at last, it will bewray it selfe. O but heare what that learned and godly Father S. Au­gustine sayes, Fucare figmentis quo vel rubicundior vel [Page 37] candidior, vel verecundior appareant adulterina falla­cia est: quanta amentia effigien mutare naturae, pictu­ram querere: tollerabiliora prope modum in adulterio crimina sunt, ibi enim pudicitia hic Natura adultera­tur: And what sayes that devine man Saint Am­brose, Deles picturam Dei mulier, si vultum tuum Materiali candore oblinisti. Againe, Saint Cyprian with the rest of these learned and devout Fathers, sayes, Foeminae manus Deo inferunt, quando illud quod ille formauit reformare contendunt. How de­testable a thing is it to see a filthie creature seeke to reforme the handy-worke of God: how vnthank­full and ingrate art thou to thy Creator, when thou seest the blinde, the cripple, or any strucken with Gods hand? how shouldst thou thanke God, who hath created thee with all the joynts of thy bodie stretcht and even, and hath given thee all thy right members, he might haue made thee a monster to the world: But O! thy pride considers not this: but thou with Art will correct the wondrous works of God: O come è indegna è stomacheuole cosa il vederte talhor, con vn pinello pinger le guance & occultar le mende di natura è del tempo, è veder Come il liuido pallor fai parer di ostro, Le rughe apiani è il bruno imbi­anchi è togli col defetto il defetto. All their inventi­ons, their ever-devising conceites, are naught else but snares to entrap our owne soules: the man with enticing vanities, doeth allure and perswade the women, and the women with superstitious and superfluous follies, tempts the man, and yet for all this, there is manie women (no doubt, [Page] who meanes well) are deceaved with the subtill de­ceites of false and perjured men: they will make their owne sex by an instrument to overthrowe them, when a woman will for gold or mony tempt another woman, and vse all deceaving tricks to en­snarcher: so I say, a woman to a woman is a great enemie; such Pandrosses cares not the wrack of young damosels, and then the distressed woman becomes an out-cast to her friends, ashamed of themselues, and a slaue to all kinde of miserie. But can such sort of women be excused, who desiring to be deceaved, will compound and yeeld vpon reasonable conditions. This sort of women are the weaker vessels, who imputes their wantonnes to their too-much weaknes, and whose naturall infir­mities must be excused with their simple igno­rance, who trusted so much to oathes and vowes. O God, was ever man bewitched to think that the conques of a woman can crowne honor: or can it raise any Trophies to vertues victorie: or was ever the stealing of a Maids virginitie registred in any chro­nicle for a valorous act of worth, and being got, what is it? A hastie-past-pleasure, with a speedie following repentance, where a swarme of tortring thoughts still works, a swift revenge, a trifling toy, and like a feather blowen with the winde before children, for when one boy gets it, hee opens his hand to see it, thē the wind blowes it straight away againe, then others runs and gets it againe, againe, and againe, and so it goes still from hand to hand. And whats all this they runne for, it is but a feather, [Page 37] let it goe, Who builds his hopes vpon the ruenous ground of a wauering womans Constancie, shall haue a suddaine fall: And well may he with a pare of crossed armes breath forth and say,

Donna adorata, e, vn nume del inferno.
IF haples I, had harbord in my heart
The festred sting of euer-tortring greefe,
Reuthles disdaine had neuer scornd my smart,
Nor I haue baisde my selfe to beg releefe:
But O, my Mistres, hath a womans minde,
Who loues her best, there proues she most vnkinde.
Doe what she can, O cruell faithles faire,
Be still ingrate, and neuer grant me grace:
For why? the proud triumph of my Despare
Hath lade my hopes before her slaughtring face:
There must they sterue, murthred with mis-regarde,
My Loue is loath'd, and I haue no rewarde.
Then fare-well Loue, a woman is a toy,
Which being got, some other gets againe:
Curst be that man, whose jelousie is joy,
And yeelds him seruile to a Sluaish paine:
Who courts a woman, must not thinke it strange,
That want of wit, still makes her minde to change.
O man whom GOD his cheefest wonder made,
And Treasure ritch of his al-seeing Eye,
The winter blast, thy floorish fare shall fade:
Swift-posting-time, still tels thee you must dye:
[Page] In fansies lap spend not thy dayes for shame,
Go spend thy dayes where honour liues with fame.
Then get you gone, sweet Syrins of deceat,
Full well I knowe your strange inchanting skill:
I scorne that Coward of a base conceat,
That Pandor-like waits on a womans will:
O let him dye deceaud, that will not doubt you,
And happiest he, who best can liue without you.

When a man hyreth an horse, either to ryde Post or Journey, as it pleases the ryder, at his jour­neies end he receaues but a hyrelings pay, and so he is presently gone. But when a man hes an horse of his own, he will haue a care of him, and spare for no expenses to see him well furnished, well fed, and well dicht, neither will he burst him, nor spur-gall him, but he will ryde him softly and spare him. Now what if his horse should learne gades, and doe nothing without the Bastenado, kick with his feete, and not be answerable to the Rainzie, but must be ridden with a French bit; in faith then I think that man had better ridden on a Caronze hyrling, when his owne horse proves noght else but a wearied jad. If a man could say this word My owne, he were hap­py so being he could say it with contentment, as my owne house, my owne wyfe, my owne chil­dren;1. Cor. 7. cap. is it not written, Let euery man haue his owne wife. But now in these dayes, such is the detestable abhominations cropen into the hearts of men, which makes them to polut the sacred band of Ma­tremonie. [Page 38] Now in this godles tyme a man cares not to put away his own wyfe, and take another; he wil alledge a thousand lyes, he will corrupt men and wemen to beare false witnes, or else he is not a­shamed to discover his owne filthines, and take the fault on himselfe,Mark. 10. cap. What God hath coupled together, let no man separate. Luk. 16. cap. And againe, our Saviour sayes, VVhosoeuer shall put away his owne wife, and maries with another, committeth adultery: And if a woman put a­way, or deuorse her selfe from her owne husband, commit­ted adultery, incase she marie with any other man. Said not the man to the woman at their first Creation, This is now bone of my bones, Gen. 2. cap. and fleshe of my fleshe, and for that cause she shall be called woman. And againe S. Paul speaking of the loue should be betwix the wife and the husband, and what authority he hath over his wife, he sayeth,Cor. 11. cap. The man is not of the woman, but the woman of the man, for the man was not created for the womans sake, but the woman for the mans sake. And why then should a man hate his owne flesh and bones. Why should not a wel-deserving wife be well cherished, and aboue all things, most respe­cted, as his second-self, yea, even all in al as himself. But many men are to blame, who maries a woman, and presently after he is maried, goeth to farre Countries, and longsome journeyes, and lives her to the mercy of all misery, it is a great signe and to­ken that this man whatsomever, hes neither respect to GOD nor shame of the world, and he is a Rebel to the command of GOD,Deu. 24. cap. When a man taketh a new wife, he shall not goe a warfare, neither shall he be charged [Page] with any bussinesse, but he shall be free, and remaine at home one yeare, and rejoyce with his wyfe. It were better never to marie, then to mary and abuse Ma­riage. But the originall of this mischeef proceeds partely of Parents, and partely of the parties them­selues, whose avarice and gread of geare is such, that they care not whom with they joyne, so being they be ritch; they looke not to education, to qua­laties, not birth, ritches hides all imperfections, and what followes, noght else but hatred, greefe, a languishing repentance, a mutuall contempt, a continuall battell, and a loathsome bed when daies of anger, and nights of sorrow, are waited-on, with Argus-eid jelousy. The wise man saith in his Canticles Ielousie is cruell as the graue, cap. 8. and the coles thereof are fy­rie, and coles of a vehement flame. And the Italian mak­ing a description of jelousie, he crieth out, with a vehement passion, Da quell sospetto rio, da quell timore, da quell Martir, da quella frenesia, da quella rabia detta gelesia. How many are they who are robd both of shame and honour, yeelding to insatiable lust, no restraint, nor yet setting limits to modesty, but gi­ves their own desire fre scope to a more then beast­ly appatyte, intertainde with all kinde of delicat al­lurements, that their filthy flesh may ever be cra­ving, and the better furnished with that consuming pleasure. And again, when some shameles creatures makes their body the moving stage of licherous sin, where all the fates of activaty, and walting trickes giues a generall tryall in a particular forme; when base bloud corrupts Nobility, & makes wrongous [Page 39] heires possesse other mens lands, when voluntarie ignorance becomes a Nurse to vnlawfull children: And when the sacred vowe of Matrimonie is made a jugling maske to oversyle the eies of true sim­plisetie: The wrongde Spaniard cryde out, De la mala muger te guarda, y de la buena no fies nada. Alas, poore horned bucks, whilst they judge charetably and makes their foolish ignorance impute all to a kinde courtasie, which brings nothing with it but an homely honestie, even then is least misdeming mindes made a mocking stock to secret villany, and if the partie (who is wrongde) appeare to miscon­ster any thing, or to smell knavery, then presently is there a complementing application of borrowed imbracements accompaned with vrged teares, fained kisses, false perjuries, flatring speaches, with broken vowes, and a number of vnperformde pro­testations. All this villanous dissimulation hood­winks verity, & maks one become the pointed-out­sport of anothers pleasure, one beat the bush whilst others catch the bird, and the righteous owner feed on idle showes, whilst strangers injoies the true sub­stance. This tricking Humor takes both chesses and belles from many a one, & sends them to the Ran­gild.Prov. cap. 5. But heare what opinion the word of GOD hath of such, The lippes of a strange woman drop as a ho­ney combe, and her mouth is more soft then Oyle, but the end of her is more bitter then wormewod, and more sharpe then a two edged sword. And againe to that same pur­pose, Then why shuld thou delite, my son, in a strange wo­man, or imbrace the bosome of a strāger? With what eies [Page] can thou looke vpon thine own wife when thou gi­uest thy bodie to another woman; is not her face a booke that vnfolds a volume of accusations to thy spotted soule: Is not the Echo of these words, I take thee before God, still sounding through the cor­ners of thy Conscience, tooke thou not her to thy wyfe? did thou not vowe before GOD and the world, to keep thy body cleane onely for her. Why should thou then imbrace the bosome of a strange woman. And heere againe what description the word of GOD maketh of an Harlot, and how it paints forth the filthinesse of a shameles woman, And I saw a­mong the fooles, Prover. cap. 7. and considered among the children, a young man destitute of vnderstanding, And behold there met him a woman with an harlots behauiour, and subtle in heart, so she tooke him, and kissed him, and with an impudent face said vnto him, I haue peace offrings, this day haue I payde my vowes, therefore came I forth to meete thee, that I might seeke thy face, and now I haue found thee, I haue deckt my bed with ornaments, Carpits, Laces of Aegipt, I haue perfumde my bed with Mirrh, Aloes, and Cynamon, Come let vs take our fill of loue till the morning, let vs take our pleasure in dalliance, for my husband is not at home, he is gone a journey, farre off, and he followed her straight wayes, like an Ox that goeth to the slaughter. The pryce of such pleasures are great, and ever brings with it a swift repentance, and the end of it is noght else but Misery, Povertie, shame and Beggery. O what pleasure is it to see the man & the woman both of one minde, comporting with others imperfections, and still yeelding to o­thers [Page 40] waiknes, El consejo de la muger es pocoy quien no le toma es loco, When a modest discretion, and si­lent patience is applyde to their owne infirmities; for when the woman is in rage and stormes at her houshald affaires, correcting wrongs with the fu­rious rage of her tongue. O then the man should labor to pacifie her with sweete words, gentle ad­monitions, and large promises. Is it not a common Proverb, that wyles helps wake folke. And when the man is in rage, the woman should not then tempt his patience, but holde her peace, and with loving words, obedient duety, and all kinde of courtasie carres him, and be quiet.1. Tim. 2. cap. Saieth not S. Paul, I permit not a woman to vsurpe authoritie ouer the man, but to be in silence. This is the true duety of a woman to­wards her husband, and this woman is the woman of wisdome, as it is written, A peaceable woman, and of a good heart, Eccl. 26. cap. is the gift of the Lord, and there is nothing so much worth as a woman well instructed, this is great ritches, and a ritch treasure. This woman bringes peace with her, she hes a carefull desire, and an ear­nest loue towardes her husband, and discharges an vpright duetie to her children, with many eyes watchfull over her house. And what is such a wo­man worth? The Scripture tels thee, That her pryce is far aboue the pearles, the heart of her husband trusteth in her, and he shall haue no need of spoyle, she will doe him good and not euill all the dayes of her life, she seketh wooll and flax, and laboreth cheerfully with her hands. This is the woman whose eares doeth not itch for strange teddings, nor is she curious to search secreets of [Page] others affaires, nor yet goes she abroad to seeke newes, nor hes she any disease to be curde with the aire taking, she breeds not her childe with the lan­guishing disease of a new fashiond gowne, nor yet needs she any molefying Ceir-cloath to be lade at her stomack, because she can not get her will, her domestick affairs is a pleasant pastime, which brings profiet by the purches of her own hands, She putteth her hands to the whele, and her hands handle the spindle, she is it not afraide nor ashamed to fyle her fingers for the well of her family, and so by her handy-la­bor helps to sustaine them, Her husband is knowne in the gates, when he sitteth with the Elders of the land, she hath a care to see him civill, in all things his honour is her glory, she is not a pratler, but she openeth her mouth with wisdome, and law of grace is in her tongne, she over-seeth the wayes of her houshould, and eateth not the bread of idlenesse: her children ryse vp and call her blessed, her husband also shall praise her. O what a world of happines liueth that man and woman in where mutual concotde, peace and quietnesse, true tranquillity of minde triumphs, wher external dissi­mulation is not aplyde to cover the inwarde deceit of the heart, and where a modest discretion excuses and dantons the fleshly desire of insatiable lust. This may be called felicitie. All their prayers are acceptable to GOD, what they pretend is pro­sperous, because all their actions feares the Lord, it is onely to such as these that GOD will keepe his promise, spoken by the mouth of Dauid the Prophet, He hath giuen a portion vnto them that feare [Page 41] him, he will euer be mindefull of his Covenant. And what is it? Even this, Thy wyfe shall be as the fruite­full wynes on the sides of thine house, and thy Children lyke the Oliue plants round about thy table, thus are they blessed that feareth GOD. For all these kynde promises and large blessinges bestowed on man­kinde. Yet there are many men and women whom God hath blessed with children, who are vnworthy & vnnatural Parents, they are careles, of their chil­drens education, and cares not what becomes of them; how far is it against Nature to see a woman cary the Infant in her belly nyne Moneths; and that whyle vexed with so many sundry sorts of in­tollerable paines, and when she approches neere the delivery of her birth, what a feare and terror will posses all the parts of her bodie? what pittifull exclamations will she make through her grieuous tortour? what an extreame agony and perrell of her lyfe will she be in, before the Childe parte from her belly? This is a great and stupendeous mira­cle of Nature, ordained by GOD Almighty, and for all these torments, greefes, and vexations, some vnnaturall mothers will forget their children, she will be so delicate, she will not nourish them, nor fyle her fine cloathes with slobbring young­lings, she must haue a stranger to nource her childe, for the bewtie of her snowe-white skinne must not be blabered with sucklings. It appeares very well, that these sorte of women gettes and ingen­ders their children onely for pleasures sake, and delivers them to the worlde for meere necessi­tie, [Page] to empty their wombe. Again when they come to perfite yeares, some Parents will giue over their children to all kinde of misery. When GOD in his super-aboundant mercy speakes to Sion be his Pro­phet, he saieth,Esay. 49 cap. Can the mother forget her owne infant, or can she not be mercifull to the childe of her own wombe, if she could be forgetfull, yet I will not forget thee, nor can I reject thee, for beholde I haue written thee in the fleshe of my owne hands. In this comparison our GOD showes how farre it goeth beyond all naturall rea­son that the Parents should forget their children. But there are many children who deserueth the wrath of their Parents, through their owne ingrati­tude, and through their great over-sight of duety, Honour thy Father and thy Mother, that thy dayes may be long in the land which the Lord thy God hath giuen thee. Let ingratfull children goe look on that won­drous worke of Nature, and of Loue; the young Cigonz [...]is will vomet vp their meate from their sto­mach to nurisch their parens, when they are oulde and can not flee. Looke to all beasts by Nature, what loue they cary one to another, & what mutu­all concord in their owne kinde; and how much more ought reasonable creatures, the Parents to the children, and the children to the Parents: Ye Parents (saieth S. Paul) prouoke not your children to wrath: Meaning be over great austeirnes, when Parents and Children liues all in peace and quyet­nes, and in charitable concord. O how good a thing is it (saieth the Scripture) and how joyfull is it, to see brethren and sisters, and the whole family to liue in [Page 42] loue and peace, they eate their bread with sweete contentment, and spends their dayes in great hap­pines. But woe be to seditious tail-tellers, to leying lippes, to harkners and rounders, to back-byters and slanderers, who are sowers of dissention, and with their wicked and malitious tongues, are in­venters of mischeif: The wisdome of GOD saith, A wicked person soweth strife, and a tail-teller maketh dissention. It is vpon such wicked instruments that the great GOD hath promest to raine fire and brim­stone, with stormie tempests: this shall be the portion of their cup, with many more greevous and end­lesse torments, which are provided for detracters and slanderers.Iam. 3 Epist. All beastes are tamde be man, but the tongue no man can tame, it is an vnruely euill, full of dead­ly poysone. Contentment is great wealth, and so­breatie with loue, is better then Kingdomes with strife,Eccl. 25 cap. I had rather dwell with a Lion, then keepe house with a wicked wife. And againe saith the Scripture, A wicked wife maketh a sory heart, an heauy countenance, and a wounded minde, wake hands, and feeble knees, and can not comfort her husband in hauines. Can any goe more neere the husband then the wife? are they not both one flesh? But such is the wake fragility of our wicked nature, that even they who lieth in others bosomes some-time will discord; but the discord amongst friends should be short, as betwix the Pa­rents and the Children, betwix Brether and Si­sters, and cheefly betwix the Man and the Wife; Is it not written, Let not the Sunne goe downe vpon your anger: The anger of some wemen are dangerous. [Page] the wise and learned man Ausonius speaking of a womans anger, he saieth, That the wylde Boare per­sewed of dogs, the Viper whose taile is tread vpon, the Ly­ons bitten with hunger, the Tiger robd of her young-ones, are not more cruell and fearce then an angry woman. Eccl. 42 cap. Me­lior est iniquitas viri, quam mulier benefaciens. There should be no vp-casts betwixt the man and the wo­man, as to say, thou art come of this, or of that, we are all the children of Adam, and also what ever se­cretes are amongst them, should not be reveild, were the occasion never so great. Many times great mischief hes bred of such things, for this cause wo­man shuld not be curious of the mans perticular af­fairs.Iudges. 14. cap. Sampson being maried with the vncircumcised Philistanes, his wife did never rest, but importuned him to knowe his secrets, and then she reveiled all to his great harme. The wise man Salomon sayeth, A vertuous woman is the crowne of her husband, Pro. 12. cap. but she that maketh him ashamed, is as corruption in his bones. But many times it falles out, that the man is author of his shame, blowing and sounding abroad the Trumpet of his owne ignomy; in this respect, that when he knoweth a particular imperfection to pre­dominat in his wife, he will not be secrete, but makes the world pointe their fingers at his turpri­tude; when he is to come home, he should send word before, and tell he comes, and if his minde as­sure him that Occupata ela stanza, then should he be very ware to enter his house vpon a suddainty, least he catch a moat in his eye, and then his eie-sore will sting his heart with impatience, turning all [Page 43] the misty-clouds of his darke doubts, in a clear-shi­ning verity, it will bring Jelousie to a true and per­fite resolution, it will giue him possession of Hornes, and so by this meanes, it inrolles him amongst the Cathegory of voluntary Cuck-colds, then must he maintaine a back-dore for the ingresse and egresse of his wifes vulgare actions. A sentenall must haue a good eare, a quick eie, and a swift retreat, that the al'arme may be the more tymous, and to make a more large preparation for Patience. O what a spatious subject is this, and how endlesse appeares this profound discourse, like a stranger Pilgrim in a wildernesse, J haue lost my way; or like the Sea­faring-man fatigated in a longsome voyage, soun­ding his lead where he findeth no ground, in such groundles deepes; then at last he returnes hopeles to end his (seeming endlesse) journey, with a dis­sembling courage, and a heartles cry, he comforts his company. So (good Reader) I am forced heere obruptly to break off, for so long as this Subject is the load-star of my discourse, I think, and am assured that my Ship shall never arryue to the sight of Capa dell buena asperanza. Then in despaire I bid this large Ocaean fare-well, for this fearfull, and tempe­stuous storme threatens Ship-wrack, I must stand by my Taik-ling, shut my Rudder a lee, and seeke vp for the next shoare.

Away vaine world, thou Oaecan of annoyes,
And welcome Heauen with thy eternall joyes.

[Page] O How farre (beholde) doeth it goe beyond the reatch of mans capacitie to ponder the great and wondrous workes of GOD, when we meditate vpon his miracles, to see the frame of every thing, presenting such strange ob­jects, this large prospect of Heaven and Earth, the admirable operations of every thing which hath bene wroght, and still works in the swift course of time; and when we haue considered all that we can, or may, we shall see that mankinde of all other creatures, are most ingrate to his Creator. So that this great and vniversall Glob, whose spatious shoulders is over-lodned with the wickednesse of mankinde, and wearied with the heavy burthen of weghtie sinne, and the vnnaturall strife in all kinde of estates, even from the ritch Monarch to the poore begger. We may see Kings opposde a­gainst Kings, these great and earthly powers tri­umph in other mens spoyle, we may see mightie ruelars vsurpe Kingdomes, subjects mutein against their owne naturall Prince, contemne his Laws, & in spight of GOD, oppresse the poore, and turne careles Rannegats to all Christianity, Virum sangui­num & dolosum abhominabitur Dominus, GOD ab­hors and detests the bloudy and malitioue man, he shall never get mercy, all his abhominations shall not leaue him, but shall follow him and accuse him, his ambition, and the complaints of the oppressed, shall condemne his Soule. And what is all this world, it is noght else but a stage where euery one acts their parte, and then makes an eternall retret [Page 44] without returne, Heavens inclostred powers looks downe, and they see all the dulfull Tragedies of vn­recalled time, and marks the vnspeakable wicked­nesse of mankinde, how many folies are acted vpon this stage, for the most parte playes the Buffone, and all their life is but a pleasant Comedy, and with the Ethnick they cry out, Ede, bibe, dorme, post Mortem, nulla voluptas. Vpon the other parte we may be­holde the picture of true repentance, painted with ten thousand miseries, the pittifull gesture of men, how vnlawfull Law hes made miserable, the beg­gerd Marchant, who hath bankerd-out his credit: the Artisan whom age and sicknes brings to po­verty, and we may see how the threed-bare Catio­ner goeth with melancholious grones, dispersing the sighs of his greeved minde in the Aire: we may see how the curious Alchamist in seeking the Philo­sopher-stone, with continuall travell, and far-soght inventions hath wrung out all the substance of his wits, and seeking to finde wealth, hath lost all his wealth, so till at last, his sweating labors, rypes no­thing else but smooke. O then, his repentance be­ginnes to challenge time, when all his smooking hopes are vanished in the aire, in end, he payeth his debt to Death, and dyeth a begger. And we may see the Necromancer, one who hath studied the black Art, for a little borrowed (and yet a very vncer­taine) tyme dambs his owne soule, and giues it as a proper tribute to Hell, and why? because with the Arch-deuils direction, he will command all the infernall spirits. O most vaine illusion, and deceat­full [Page] pleasure which brings nothing with it, but eter­nall horror. Now when all men hath acted their parte vpon this vniversall stage, then comes Al­commanding Death, & swiftly cryes to every one, Away gette you gone, your parte is playde. So with his Imperiall Darte, he streaketh all kinde of Crea­tures without respect, and then with his reuth­les hand, he draweth the darke Courtaine of the Graue, over the paill bodie of mankinde. So shall thy soule compeare before the Great Spectator of Heaven, who hath seene all thy actions, and how thou hast plaide thy parte in this world, there the booke is opened where all thy doings are in Re­gister, if they be vpright, then art thou crowned in the Majesticall Throne of Eternall Glory; if thy actions and doinges be false, and found deceat­full, if thou hast stopped thy eares, and woulde not hearken,Reuel. 20. cap. nor heare vnto the voice of Gods Messingers, then shall thy name be blotted and scraped out of the Booke of lyfe, and thy soule and bodie shall be condemned to burne perpetuallie in the Everlasting fyre of Hel. O what a pittifull thing is it to see so many catiue creatures careles of the life to come, and what great debt they take on their soule to be payed at the letter day. The wicked ab­hominations of mans heart made GOD in his great wrath,Gen. 6. cap. Cry out and say, I repent that ever I made man. And why did our Saviour Christ hate this world, he telleth the reason, Quia mundus totus in ma­ligno positus est. Because the Worlde altogether is placed in wickednesse. For we may beholde, what [Page 45] wickednes possesses mankinde, even from their ve­rie youth-head? of what evill inclination? how per­verse in their actions? and how contemptious to age? how will they mock, scorne, and disdaine the reverend Father, and the aged Matrone. O sayes the word of God,Pro. 16. Cap. Age is the crowne of glory, therefore we should honour age, helpe and reverence age, the pernitious nature of man is such, that it breeds contention, emulation, and continuall discords, how vncharitable without law, reason, or religi­on, so that man to man are the most cruell enemies of any other creatures: when the Neronicall heart of man being in a tirannicall humor, what kinde of strange tortures will they devise one against ano­ther? how vnnaturall is this? and how farre is it a­gainst all Christianitie? it hath kindled the wrath of the Almightie, when anger calleth Israell, Gentem apostatricem dura facie & indomabili corde, an aposta­ticall Nation with a shamelesse face & encourage­able heart, who will not acknowledge the won­drous mercies of our loving God, Miseros facit po­pulos peccatum sinne maketh people miserable, and when holy Iob speaking of wicked men and of care­lesse sinners, he sayeth, Bibit quasi aquam iniquita­tem, they drink vp sinne like water, even like a thir­stie stomack, with as little care and as much plea­sure drinke they vp wickednes, and that thou who readest this, may the better beleeue me: goe and with experience thou shalt see (goe I say) & walke abroad into the streetes, and behold the doings of mankinde; looke and marke well their behaviour, [Page] and fashions, consider well and attentiuely what is done in Market-places, in Kings Courts, in Justice houses, in common meeting places, what lying, & deceaving? what slander & shamelesse villany? thou shalt see nothing in this world so little accoun­ted of as sinne, thou shalt see Justice corrupted with briberie, and variety sold for money, and impudent faces despise equity, thou shalt see the innocent cō ­demned, the wicked and malitious malefactor deli­vered and set free, the villaine advanced, & the ver­tuous despised, thou shalt see the proud oppressour triumph, & theeues command, vsurers and Brokers deceaving their neighbours, extortioners at liberty to execute their owne desires: and thou shalt see ignorant fooles preferred to great authority, be­cause they are ritch, worthlesse men reverenced, ho­nored, and drawen vp to great dignities, and thou shalt see how the eager desire of ambition cuts in­nocent throats, treason covered and cloaked with flattery: and to conclude, thou shalt heare the ge­neral voyce of the people, to be nothing else but of vanities, bawdrie, and whoring, detraction & back­biting, pride, envie, deceit, drunkennes, dissimulati­on, wantonnes, dissolation, flatterie, lying, swearing, perjuring, & blaspheming. And so this shal cōfirme (that in their perrillous and latter dayes) how mis­chief abounds, & what abominations are spred on the face of the earth, having no regard to law or ju­stice, to reason nor religion, but in an vnsatiable ap­petite of beastlinesse, are become drunk with sinne: how glad may the man of an vpright mind be? how [Page 46] quiet may his soule be? at what sweet repose may his conscience be? when all his actions are vp­right before GOD:Pro. 15. cap. the Scripture sayes, Secura mens juge conuiuium, a secure conscience is a blithe banquet: but O thou wicked man! O thou mali­tious oppressour! O thou deceitfull and avaritious villaine: how shalt thou haue thy soule and con­science tortured? the terrour of thy vnrighteous­nesse shall torment thee, thy nights shall be voyde of rest, and thy soule shall be wrapped vp in the pricking thornes of thy owne wickednesse, everie thing shall affray thee, all objects shall threaten thee, and restlesse despaire shall hant thee with ten thousand devillish temptations:Pro. 28. cap. Salomon sayes, the wicked man flieth though no man pursue him: Hee will start at his owne shadow, the heart of him is alwaies aloft, Conscientia mille testes: O but heare in the end what is prepared for such wicked and insolent sin­ners (who hath such pleasure in this world, & with their abhominations procures the heavie wrath of God) even this is prepared for them, Cruciabuntur in saecula saeculorum in stagno ardente igne & sulphure, they shal be tormented for ever & ever in a burning lake of fire & brimston. O that the horror of this sētence might make vs mark our owne blindnes, and amend our beastly life, Nol ti fieri sicut equus et mulus quibus non est intellectus: Be not like the horse or the Mule, which hath no vnderstāding, as the Prophet would say, be not so brutish nor so voyd of reason, nor yet set not thy saluation to such a small reckoning. O thou reader, I will request thee, & all mankind ever [Page] to remember and hold this most worthy and infal­lible sentence printed in thy heart, Hoc momentum vnde pendit aeternitas, This short life is the very mo­ment, whereon dependeth all eternitie either the eternall joyes of heaven, or else the eternall paines of hell. O J say againe, remember this true sen­tence, and haue a continuall care of this moment, and spend it not in such idle vanities,Math. 5. Cap. Agree with thine aduersarie quickly, whiles thou art in the way going with him, least thine aduersarie deliuer thee to the Iudge, and the Iudge deliuer thee to the jaylor, and the jaylor cast thee in prison, where thou shalt not come out till thou haue payed all. How carefull should we be in this little moment of our life, to prevent the intollera­ble and endlesse burning paines of hell. What would the damned soules in hell doe, if they were in this world againe? how would they spend this moment, to escape that vnspeakable torture, that ever-burning Gehenna, where nothing else is but goashing of teeth and everlasting horrour, yea, and worse than the tongue or heart of man can tell or thinke, out of the which part there is no redempti­on. Good Christian Reader, againe I will request thee, and all sinners, to print this in the depth of thy heart: And I my selfe, I confesse to be a most gree­vous sinner, when I thinke vpon the losse of preti­ous time, it shrills my wearie soule with griefe, it wearies my dayes, and disturbs my rest: with that holy Prophet Dauid, I crie to God with a repenting heart: O Lord, remember not the sinnes of my youth, nor my ignorance, but according to thy great mercies re­member [Page 47] thou me, euen for thy goodnes sake, O Lord: The workes of our Lord God are great and won­drous, they are incomprehensible, and yet his mer­cies exceedes all his stupendious workes, therefore once more let vs consider so neere as wee can the great works of God, the creating of all things. The heauens (sayes the Prophet Dauid) sets forth his glory, and the firmament shewes the workes of his hands: The earth, the seas, and all living creatures therein, the strange course of every thing in heaven in earth, & the naturall inclination of all living creatures. Look on the seas how they are limited, that they shall not passe their bounds, but keepes their due course: Looke on the creation of mankinde, he hath made vs according to his owne image, and of the verie dirt and slime of the earth hath he created and for­med vs, he hath also made vs subject to many infir­mities of Nature, the filthinesse of our flesh, the ex­crementall corruption of many sundry and strange diseases, which are naturall, and insident both to man and woman: And what would this carcase of ours be, if it had not the change of cleane cloathes? it would be naught else but a masse of vermine, and with time the smell of our flesh would be loathsom, and so in the end wee would putrifie and consume to naught. O man, why is all this done? onely to base our pride, and God hath done it to let vs see what stuffe wee are made of: and what bath our good God done more? Within this earthly vessell of our body, he hath placed a soule made of a de­vine and heavenly substance, adorned with all her [Page] faculties, and garnished with reason: The Prophet Dauid sayes,Hebr. 2. Cap. Little inferiour to the Angels. And be­sides all this, he hath cast vnder our feete all kinde of other creatures,Gen. 1. cap. and aboue all his workes that work of vdspeakable loue, that miraculous worke of our redemption, and yet the mercie of our Lord God goes farre aboue, and farre exceedes all his wondrous works: for the holy Prophet Dauid sayes, The Lord is good and kinde to all, and his mercies are a­boue all his great and wondrous works, And heare what our good & loving God sayes more with his owne mouth:Esay. 5. 4. The mountaines shall remoue, the hills shall fall downe, but my mercie shall not depart from thee: neither shall I breake the couenant of my peace, saith the Lord, that hath compassion on thee? What great and true confidence may we then haue in Gods mercie? he sayes againe by the mouth of his Prophet:Esay. 30. Cap. The Lord doth attend the sinners conuersion, to the end he may take mercy on him, and thereby be exalted: Yet heare more what God speakes to Ezechiel the Prophet: Say vnto them, as I liue, saith the Lord God, I desire not the death of the wicked, 33. Cap. but that the sinner should turn frō his sinful life & liue: And farther, with what great cōpassion goes he on to allure & perswade his people to con­vert: O sayes he, Turne you turne you from your wicked­nes, for why will you perish and die, O you house of Israell: How many kind & loving perswasions doth our lo­ving God giue vs to draw neere, and come home to him. What gentle & kind corrections? what large and great space of repentance? what wonderfull & sweet Parables of our Saviour Jesus Christ in the [Page 48] Evangell: Of the good sheepheard who brought back the sheep vpon his shoulders, which had gone astray, what joy and feasting makes hee with his friends, and of the honest woman when shee findes her lost peace of siluer. And the pittifull father with teares of mercie & compassion receaved his forlorn sonne, with what joy and gladnes did hee embrace him. Here doth our sweet Saviour Iesus, shew what great joy is in heaven at the convertion of a sinner. Our loving God again entring in more conference with the sinner, he begins to reason with him: Thou sayest that I am ritch, Reuel. S. Iohn. 3. Cap. and encreased with goods, and full of substance, and that I haue need of nothing, and doest thou not know how poore thou art? how wretched? how miserable? how blinde? and how naked thou art? Then our Saviour goes on with sweet perswading spee­ches to allure the sinner, saying: I counsell thee to buy of me gold, tried be the fire, that thou mayest be made ritch, and white rayment, that thou mayest be cloathed, and that thy filthie nakednesse may not be seene, and anoint thine eyes with eye-salue, that thou mayest see: And when he with chaines of loue keepes his owne fast to him, he sayes, As many as I loue, I rebuke and chasten, be zea­lous therefore and amend. Now againe at last he con­cludes with fervent compassion, Behold I stand at the dore and knock, if any man heare my voice, and open the dore, I will come in vnto him, and I will sup with him, and hee with mee. What more comfortable spee­ches would the heart of mankinde craue? or what greater consolation can wee Caitiue and distres­sed sinners desire, who would refuse to open [Page] the dore of his heart to entertaine such a worthie guest of infinite loue and mercie, even Christ Jesus the onely sonne of God omnipotent: he gaue his life to ransone the soules of sinners, he left the glo­rious heavens for our cause, and cloathed him selfe with our wilde and filthy nature. Many yeeres did he preach, he suffered cold, hunger, and reproach, he was tempted, and fasted forty dayes in the wil­dernes, in the agony of his Prayers, he sweat bloud, he was tortured, sold, and imprisoned, his head was crowned with sharpe thornes, his body torne with scourges, he was mocked, buffeted, and spet in the face, his body hung on the Crosse betwixt two theeues, and his armes out-stretched, his hands and feete peirced with nailes of iron, and his side and heart wounded to death, neither was we bought with siluer, gold, or pretious stones, but with the infinite price of the bloud, and life of our Sauiour Iesus Christ, the onely sonne of our ever-living God. O it was our sinnes and wickednes put him to death, and laid all his cruell torments on him, it was our wickednes made him fast forty dayes when he was tempted in the wildernes, we crowned his Imperiall head with sharpe thornes, we bound his delicate armes with cords, wee mocked him, wee stripped him naked, and scourged his blessed bo­die, we buffeted and spat in his most glorious face, we laid the Crosse on his patient shoulders, we cast lots for his vpper garments, we crucified him be­twixt theeues, and nailed his innocent hands and feet to the Crosse: it was for vs he sweat bloud and [Page 49] water in his prayers, and it was we, even onely we who peirced and wounded his heart, and it was wee who made him in his cruell paines of death, cry out in his last passion, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me: All this, and much more hath our wickednes done to the incomprehensible Majestie of almighty God. Heare with what great admira­tion the Prophet Isay cries out, speaking of the Pas­sion of Jesus Christ long before his comming:53. Cap. Who will (sayes he) beleeue our report, and to whom is the arme of the Lord reuealed? Then he begins and tells of his sufferings & torments for our sinnes, saying: Surely he hath borne our infirmities, and caried our sor­rowee, yet we did judge & esteeme him plagued, and smit­ten of God, and humbled, but hee was wounded for our trasgressions, it was for our iniquities he was punished, The burthen of our sinnes was laide on his backe like a simple sheepe, so was he led to the slaughter, in patient silence suffered he all sorts of paines, nei­ther was wickednes with him, fraud nor deceit was never found in his mouth: this Innocent was put to death amongst theeues and malefactors, for the sinnes of the world: The Evangelist S. Iohn sayes, For God so loued the world, 3. Cap. that he hath giuen his onely begotten sonne Iesus Christ, that whosoeuer beleeueth in him, should not perish, but haue life euerlasting. And what shall this life everlasting be? the Apostle tells thee,1. Corin. 2. Cap. That eye hath not seene, nor care hath not heard, nor yet the heart of man can not imagine what happinesse and glory is prepared for them that shall be saued. Now deere and loving Reader, consider with what little [Page] paines thou may (in this little moment of thy life) prevent the everlasting paines of hell, and make conquest of the eternall glory of heaven, to see and behold the vnspeakable Majestie of God, set on his triumphant Throne, evironed & compast with the glorified Saints, & the innumerable Martirs, who hath suffered for the faith of his sonne Iesus Christ, when the woman in travaile and bitter paines of hir birth is releeved of her naturall burthen: how will the pleasure of her child expell the paines, and giue her comfort? Even so after the weariednesse of this world,Isay, 25. cap. the paines and anguish, then comes the joy­full pleasure of heavens, which expells all our vexa­tions,Reuel. 7. cap. comforts our soules, and wipes all the teares from our eyes,Reuel. 21. cap. what persecution? what crosse or worldly temptation should hold or keepe vs backe from such an infinite treasure, from such an endlesse joy: Let vs say with that constant and blessed ser­vant of Jesus Christ,Roma. 8. cap. Who shal separate vs from the loue of Christ, shall tribulation, or anguish, or persecution, or famine, or nakednes, or perrill, or sword, as it is writ­ten: for thy sake are wee killed all the day long, wee are counted as sheepe for the slaughter: neuerthelesse in all these things we are more then Conquerours, through him that loued vs: for I am perswaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to seperate vs from the loue of God, which is in Christ Iesus our Lord. And a little before, this happy and godly Apostle sayes in this same Chapter, For I count the afflictions of this [Page 50] present life are not worthy of the glory which shall be showne to vs in the life to come: And for this respect, When hee considered of the joy of heauen, Phil. 3. cap. hee esteemed all the ritches, all the glorie, and all the honour of this world, but vayled filth and stinking dirt: How carefull then should wee be of this word Eternall? and that in this moment wee should be good provisors: Our Saviour desires vs saying,Luk. 19. cap. Negotiamini dum venio, Be diligent, and lay much treasure to thee fore a­gainst I come, and seeke for a reckoning of thee: For behold (sayes he) I come quickly, Apoca. of S. Iohn 21. cap. and my rewardis with mee, to giue euery man according to his workes: And what shall this reward be, if thou be vpright, constant, and continue firme and faithfull to the end,2. Cap. Be thou faithfull vnto the death, and I will giue thee the crowne of life, In hope of this glorious Crowne, how gallantly should thou fight against all the wofull miseries of this world, and still con­temne all their earthly temptations: In the word of GOD the wise man forwarnes the saying, My sonne, when thou art to come to the seruice of GOD, stand fast in Iustice, and in feare, and prepare thy minde for temptation. Heere thou art forwar­ned in what estate thou shalt be in time of battell, and howe to lye at thy guard against thy three ghostlle enemies,Ephe. 5. cap. The Deuill, the World, and the Flesh: Stand therefore, and your loynes girde about with viritie, hauing on the breast-plate of righteousnesse. What should hinder vs to fight against our owne infirmities, having such a Captain to encourage vs, and fight for vs, to strengthen vs, to holde vs vp, [Page] and helpe vs. Our Saviour sayes, You are they who haue stoode with me in my temptations, and therefore I prepare for you a Kingdome. And I pray thee heare good Keader what a Kingdome, even to be perta­taker of his owne glory, to sit crowned with him in all eternall joy and happinesse, but our infirmities, and weaknesse, and want of faith, and our strength­lesse hearts, and our great faintnesse hath made our Captaine Christ to say, You haue left me in time of temptations: this lets vs see how feeble wee are of our selues, and that without the helpe of God wee are nothing, nor can doe nothing. Our omnipotent God diminished the Camp of Ierubaall, and with a very small number made him overcome the great & strong armie of the Midianites, Iudg. 7. Cap. least Ierubaall should haue said, It is the strength of man hath woone the victorie, and so taken away the honor, glory, & po­wer from God, Non nobis domine, non nobis sed nomi­ne cuo da gloriam. O man, base thy pride, for of thy selfe thou art naught else, but a miserable and strengthlesse worme, and all thy resolutions are but meere folly, for behold the foolish hearts, and thou shalt see what course, and what straunge decree they will make to them selues. What vowes and promises sealed with oathes will they make to per­forme wonders: but O let the foolish man heare what the wisedome of God sayes,Prou. 19. cap. Many deuises are in a mans heart, but the counsell of the Lord God shall stand: Thou mayest flatter thy selfe with many faire promises, but all in vaine, because God almightie must be the chiefe actour of all things. This made [Page 51] the Apostle Saint Paul say,Philip. 4. cap. I am able to doe all things through the helpe of Christ which strengthneth me, and when it pleases God to lay a crosse vpon the shoul­ders of any Christian, that he may be glorified, and to be a chaine of loue to bring thee to him, and to keepe thee fast with him: how will he helpe thee to beare thy Crosse? how will he draw the forward? and how will he peace, and peace releeue thee and set thee free:1 Cor. 10. cap. is it not written, Our God is faithfull, and he will not suffer vs to be tempted aboue our strength, Hee will lay no more on thee then thou art able to beare, he will not suffer one haire of thy head to pe­rish:Deut. 13. cap. he sayes, I chastice them whom I loue, for the Lord your God doth try and proue you to know, if you loue your Lord God with all your heart, and with all your soule. Now in this meane time of his aduersitie, what comfortable speeches? and what great assurance giues he by his Prophet Dauid, He called on me (sayes he) and I heard him when he is in trouble, I am with him, and I will deliuer him, and set him free, and I will glo­rifie him. Now when a man or woman is burthened with any worldly crosse, can he goe to a better (or can he goe to a more loving and wiser) Counsailer, to discharge the burthen of his griefe to, then to our Lord Jesus Christ, who knowes what is mee­test for the Intellectum tibi dabo et instruam te in wia hac qua gradieris, firmabo super te occulos meos, J will (sayes he) giue thee vnderstanding, and I will teach thee how and what way thou shalt winne free of thy trouble, and I shall ever fixe my eyes vpon thee. Now wilt thou but looke on all the great rulers and [Page] principalities in this world. From the mighty and ritch Monarch to the base and poore begger. And tell me who can say he hath no Crosse: beleeue me not any, for that man hath not beene, nor for the present is not, but he hath vexation, a griefe, and a continuall crosse. What although hee appeare to the eyes of this worlde, most content in earthly glory, in ritches or authority, yet for all that, be­fore night that day was never but hee had somwhat to repent him selfe of. Then thou who art crost, wil thinke in thy heart, and say: O this man or woman are happie, they haue no tribulation, they haue no fighting with this world, their minde is in peace and quietnesse, they liue secure, and are crowned Kings of their owne desires. O foole, thou art de­ceaued, for what is all our chiefest joy in this vale of miserie? euen nothing else but a sunne-shine pleasure, bringing nothing with it but a grievous storme of infinite cares: O but what remedie, euen this must be thy onely remedie, to say with the Pro­phet Dauid, Tribulationem & dolorem inueni & no­men domini inuocaui, In the time of my tribulation and griefe, I called vpon the name of the Lord, hee is the true Phisitian that must heale thy sores, and be assured he will say to thee as hee said to S. Paul in his great temptations, Sufficit tibi gratia mea, My grace is sufficient to strengthen thee, to keepe thee, and defend thee in thy greatest conflict, and to be a strong and mightie bulwarke against all temptations, and aboue all things, let vs that are sinners and grievous offenders of GOD, thinke [Page 52] and assure our selues that it is onely our owne iniquities, and wicked life, which procures our crosse of tribulation: O then let vs not mur­mure against GOD, but let vs looke to our owne sinfull life, that is the onely originall of all our mi­series: how ought we then to repent, for it is one­lie sinne displeases GOD, and nothing can please him but repentance and mourning. Heere I will set thee downe this comparison: Take eye-salue and applie it to any feastred part of thy bodie, it will neither helpe nor releeue thee of thy paine, but take that eye­salue and applied to thy eye, it will helpe and releeue thy eye. Euen so take mourning, and applie it to the losse of ritches, it doth no good, applie mourning to the losse of friends, it doeth no good, applie mourning to the losse of honour, it doeth no good: but applie the teares of mour­ning to thy feastred soule, it will doe good, it will bathe thy feastred soule, it will embalme and mollifie her wounds, and giue thee a true comfort in thy sweete Re­deemer Iesus Christ. It is onely he who will heare thy lamentations, consider thy distresse, and exhaust vp thy remēbrance in his mercy. When thou art wea­ried & faints, he is the true fountaine who will re­fresh thy wearied spirit, he calls vpon all that are fa­tigated and oppressed: If any man be thirstie, let him come vnto me, and hee shall haue drinke. How joy­full may the thirstie sinner be,Iohn. 7. cap. to haue accesse to come and drinke of the true fountaine of life: heare yet againe what sweete consolation hee powres in thy heart by his Prophet:Nahum. 1. cap. I haue afflicted thee alrea­die, and I will not afflict thee againe: As he would say, [Page] there shall not come from me a double tribulation. Now good Christian, how may thy troubled soule repose vpon this loving and infallible promise. Ho­ly and constant Iob, in the middes of his torturing griefe,Iob. 18. cap. cries out to God, Although he kill me, yet wil I trust in him: and to animate thee, and to giue the more stoutnes, that in aduersitie thou be not over­throwne: The royall Prophet Dauid cries to thee with great courage, Expecta dominum viriliter age, & confortetur cor tuum & sustine dominum: Trust in the Lord, and fight manfully, our Lord will com­fort thy heart, and therefore abide his will, for the Lord our God will not leaue thee, hee will not de­part from thee? what great confidence hath this ho­ly man had in GOD, for in the beginning of this Psalme, he sayes, Seeing God is the protector of my life, who can harme me: And againe, with great assurance he sayes, Si consistant aduersum me castra non timebit cor meum: si exurgat aduersum me prelium, in hoc ego sperabo, Giue whole armies were comming against me, I shall not care, but hope in God, then hee fol­lowes with this request: I haue sought one thing of thee my God, that I may dwell all the dayes of my life in thy house, and that I may see the glory and beautie of thy Temple. Then when this blessed man begins to thinke vpon the wondrous benefits of God besto­wed on him with joy and gladnes of heart, he cries out and sayes, What shall I render the Lord for all his benefits bestowed vpon me, I will take the cup of saluation, and call vpon the name of the Lord: If wee poore in­gratefull creatures, would meditate vpon the in­comprehensible [Page] loue of GOD of his long suffe­ring, and gentle patience. How slow is he to wrath, and how swift is he to mercy, what wrongs doeth he receaue? They haue (saieth he) repayed euil for good. Then when he perceaved their great vnthankful­nesse, their dulnesse and hardnesse of heart, and that all what he did, could not moue his people to turne to him. Then he cryeth out in great passion, O ye Heauens be astonished at this, Iere. 2. cap. be affraied, and vtterly confounded. And yet with more vehemence be his Prophet, he sayeth, Heare O Heauens, and harken O Earth, Esay. 1. cap. for the Lord hath said, I haue nurished and brought vp children, and they haue rebelled against me: The Oxe knoweth his owner, & the asse knoweth his maisters crib, but yet my people knoweth not me: Woe be to this sinfull Nation, a people loaden with iniquitie, a wiked seed, and corrupt children, they haue forsaken their Lord, they haue prouocked the holy one of Israel to anger, and they haue gone backwarde. What an heavy lamentation is this, how grievous was this complaint to the Almighty GOD to make vpon base and filthy, wake and worthlesse, creeping vermeine of the Earth, whom the twinkling of his eie, might haue destroyed, and with the smallest breath of his an­ger, brought an infinite number of worlds to no­thing. Who can stand before his wrath, saieth the Pro­phet Nahum, or who can abide the fearcenesse of his wrath? Nahum. 1. cap. his wrath is powred out like fire, and the rocks and mountaines are broken with his anger. How oft hath our sinnes (even now in this present age) procured that heavy and terrible wrath of GOD, even that [Page] wrath, I say, which moues the Mountaines and makes the hilles to trimble. Look (good Reader) and thou shalt see how the sparkes of GODS furious wrath is spred throgh many parts of this world, we may with teares houle and lament, and with vexati­on of minde complaine and cry out with that holy Prophet, Thine holy cities lywaist, Zion is become a wil­dernesse, Esay. 64 cap. and Iarusalem a desert, the house of our Sanctua­rie, and of our glory where our forefathers praised thee, is brunt and consumed with fire, and all our pleasant things are waisted and destroyed. How heavily doeth this man of GOD complaine, how doeth he bevaill this de­solation and destruction, and in the bitter passion of his heart, he crieth out, Wilt thou hold thy selfe still at these things, O Lord, what wilt thou holde thy peace, and afflict vs aboue measure? As he wold say, wilt thou not take compassion vpon vs, and wilt thou not withdraw thy heavy wrath from vs? What, without all kinde of mercy shall we be vtterlie destroied? No, not so, because in his superaboundant loue, and wonderfull great pietie, hee comforteth vs, and saieth,Esay. 60 cap. In my wrath I haue punished thee, but in my mercie I had compassion thee. And yet farther with great regrate he maketh a sweete and comfortable promise, Whereas thou hast bene forsaken and hated, so that na man respected thee, I shall make thee an Eternall glorie, and a joy from generation to generation. And what more will our GOD of mercie doe? And they shall (sayeth hee) builde the oulde waist places, 61. cap. and raise vp the former desolations, and they shall re­paire all the Citties that were desolate, and waist through [Page] many generations. What great store of Consola­tion doeth this promise of GOD giue to vs? and with what meeknesse of heart doeth he say, Indig­natio non est mihi I am not angrie, wrath is not mine, I will freely forgiue thee, I will forgett all thy sinnes, and cast them behinde my back, I shall blot all thy wickednesse out ot my memory, and be­leeue me,Esek. 18 cap. I shall never thinke on thine offences any more. Haue I any desire that the wicked should dye, (sayeth our Lord God) or shall he not liue, if he returne from his wickednnsse. And againe he perswadeth vs, saying, Cast away all your transgressions, whereby you haue transgressed, and make you a new heart and a new spirit. Let the teares of remorse purge the filth of sinne from our soule. O that we in all humilitie wolde consider, what and how many earnest per­swasions our loving GOD hath laid, and still lay­eth before vs to turne home to him! Againe, hes our abhominations and wicked life beniched vs from his loue? O yet let vs not despare of his mercy! Al­though our sinnes were rid as scarlet, Esay. 1. cap. God will make them white as snowe. Math. 20. cap. Come vnto me all ye (saieth our Sa­viour) that are wearie and loden, and I will refresh you. And then he beginneth to reproue the sluggard, Goe labour in my vyne-yarde, why stand ye all the day idle? Although we come with the last, yet we will be rewarded with the first. Let vs throwe and cast a­way al hinders that lats vs and staies vs from GOD. Let vs (I say) in time mend our life, our good GOD will helpe vs, he will make all impossibilities,Mark. 16 cap. possi­ble. Marie Magdalen, and Marie the mother of Iames [Page] all the way, how carefull were they to gette the great stone rolled away from the sepulcher dore; and how soone they came to the dore, there they found the stone rolled and turned away. Even so in this happy journey of our conversion. Let vs cast away all worldly cares, and take vp our crosse and follow Christ, His yocke is sweete, and his burthen is light, we shall not walke in darknesse. Let vs say with S. Augustine, Et tu Domine vsque quoquam diu? quam diu? Cras & cras, quare non modo? quare non hac hora? finis est turpitudinis meae. O Lord, how long wilt thou suffer me thus? How long? How long? shall I say to morrow, to morrow, why should I not convert now? Why should there not be an end of my filthy lyfe, even at this very instant? And let vs all say with the holy Prophet Dauid, O Lord create a new heart in me, and renew my spirit, and that we May cast off the ould man, and put on the new man. O Lord giue vs grace hereafter that we may walke circum­spectly,Ephes. 4. cap. and not like mad and insolent fooles, in ig­norance,Ephes. 5. cap. blindnesse and errour, that we may re­deme the time that we haue spent in sleuthfulnesse, and idlenesse. Try me, O GOD, and search my heart, (saieth Dauid) proue me, and examine my thoghts: Con­sider if there be any way of wickednesse in me, and then O Lord lead me in the way of eternitie. I pray GOD let vs never like dogs turne to our vomet, stay still with vs O Lord, because it is neere the night. When S. Peter saies, And if the righteous scarcely can be saued, where shall the vngodlie and the sinner appeare. 1. S. Pet 4. cap. What a perellous speech is this, for vs poore and misera­rable [Page 37] sinners, who still heapes sinne vpon sinne. Therefore deare brother, let vs cry, O Lord enter not into judgement with vs, take all our sinnes and iniquities, and bury them in the bleeding wounds of thy dearly beloved Sonne Jesus Christ. Let the temporall punishments of this life, deliver vs, and redeme vs from the eternall paines of hell. Let vs all say with S. Austein, Hic vre, hic seca, vt in aeter­num parcas. O good GOD mollifie our hearts, and let vs not be hardned when we heare thy voyce, giue vs that strength of grace, that the filthy vapors of our sinnes extinguish not thine holy spirit in vs. Da seruo tuo Domine cor docile: Giue vnto thy ser­vant, O Lord, a tractable heart to receaue instru­ction. And O GOD we pray thee to remember thy promise,Esay. 66. cap. Ad quem respitiam nisi ad pauperculum & contritum corde & timentem sermones meos? To whom will I haue regard, or shew my favour, but vnto the poore and humble of heart, vnto the con­treat spirit, and to such as trimble at my speeches? Thou never yet, O Lord, despised the sacrifice of a contreat heart. So long as the sinner remaines with­in the darkned and misty vapors of all wickednesse, he can not beholde the odeous and vylde leprosie, nor the filthy apparell which sinne cleideth his soule with all, the devill blinds him: but when he reteares himselfe from wickednesse, and walkes on the faire way of Repentance, or when he stands v­pon the Mountaine of Amendement, and then lookes forth from the turrat of a good-life, behol­ding the filthy shape, and the ougly portrate of sin. [Page] O how will he then detest himselfe that hath bene so long swatring in that filthie myre, in that stink­ing puddle of sinne, putrified with all abhominati­ons, and how loathsome will such company be to him thereafter, he will eschew them as a contagious pest, and say with the Prophet Dauid, Discedi te à me omnes qui operamini iniquitatem quoniam exaudi­uit Dominus vocem fletus mei, Goe from me all ye workers of iniquitie, because my GOD hath heard my weeping voice, and hath receaved my prayer, or else he will intreate the wicked man with gentle perswasions, with good examples, and lo­ving admonitions to shake off that filthie and con­tagious habiet which infects the soule, and keepes him back, and debarres him from the loue of GOD and makes the Death of Christ to be for him in vaine. S. Iohn the Evangelest sayeth, It is onely to them who beleeveth in him,1. cap. that hee hath given power to be the sonnes and children of GOD. It is most sure that onely want of faith maketh the sinner obstinate, he is a lyer and can not beleue in GOD. O thou poore and distressed creature looke vpon thine owne miserable estate, how thou gal­lops post to hell, and will not looke back but goeth on thy cairlesse journey! When we walke alone on the fields, when we walk solitare in our chalmer, when we ly in our bed, will we but meditate vpon the fearfull and terrible Majestie of GOD (whom all the Heavens can scarce containe) of his vnspea­kable glory, of his Almightie power. And it is onely this great and Omnipotent Iehouah that we offend, [Page 56] To thee onely haue I sinned, saith Dauid. And let vs re­member how for the eating of a sillie apple, con­trare the Lords commandement, he condemned all mankinde, and nothing could appease his wrath, nor yet ransome the world, but the bloud and death of his owne dearly beloved Sonne Jesus Christ. When wee thinke on this severitie, and of GODS terrible anger against sinne, how loath should we be to offend GOD, and yet in very contempt of GOD the wicked man will perseveir in all kinde of wickednesse, and still deferre his Repen­tance, till at last there shall be no time given him, yea, not the halfe quarter of an houres minute gran­ted to him. Heare how the Prophet Dauid saieth of such men, Convertentur ad vesperam, & famem patien­tur vt canes & circuibunt civitatem: And in the eve­ning they shall convert, they shall runne about the Cittie, and barke like dogs, they shall houle for meate, but surelie they shall not be satisfied. O that in time we wold take heed to this woful speech! And what more? GOD will mock them, and hold them in derifion. It is to these that our Saviour will say,Mat. 25 cap. Nescio vos, I knowe you not. Why? Because you had no Oyle in your lampes. And when he hath knowen them, and all their wicked deedes (which shall be accusers of them, and laid open to beare testimonie against them) O what will he then say to them? Ite malidicti in ignem aeter­num: Goe you accursed vnto the eternall fire of Hell. And besides all this, remember the sharpe rec­koning must be made, when the least idle word [Page] we speake, we must giue a count of it. O GOD according to the multitude of thy mercies, be mercifull to vs miserable sinners, in that fearfull and terrible day of judgement. In time convert vs O Lord, and we shall be converted. How happie is that man who can withstand the dangers of this life with a well resolved minde, and still calles on GOD to assist him in all his actions, for the temp­tations of this world, are many, and wondrous strong. The devill is subtle, and we are easily insna­red, and this our flesh is exceeding subject to ma­ny infirmities. So that without Gods helpe we are not able of our selues to fight. Then with the Pro­phet Dauid, Let vs all say, O Lord fight for vs, how feeble, how weak, and faint-hearted are we? When the least blast of affliction ruines, all our strength, we can not stand after we ar raised vp, but presently falles againe, and turnes to our former wickednesse, notwithstanding of our repentance, and promeist amendement. We haue no force to command our selues. We perish in our owne passions, and most cowardly yeeldes to all sorts of sinnes. Thus are we made slaues to our owne infirmities, in so far that we make no kinde of resistance to the sma­lest motion. Concerning the passion of anger S. Paul writting to the Ephesians, he sayeth, Be angry, but sinne not, 4. cap. neither let the Sunne goe downe vpon your wrath. This passion of anger is exceeding perillous, for in that time that it doeth possesse the heart, it for careth nothing, nor hath no respect to thinges present, nor thinges to come: the fury of anger is [Page 57] is the highest degrie of self-madnesse. The Italian speaking of the nature and condition of anger, He sayeth, Ira è breve furor, è chinol frena, è furor, longa che el suo possessorè spesso à vergogno è talhor mena à morte, Anger is a short furie, and to him who will not brydle it, it is a longsome furie, which bringeth the possessour, either to shame or death. That happie and learned Father Saint Agustein, makes a very godlie and religious discourse in his conflict of vertue and vyce; first he maketh anger to speake, Quae aequanimiter ergate ferri non possunt haec patienter ommino tollerare peccatum est, quia nisi eis cum magna exasperatione resistatur, contra te de­inceps sine mensura cumulantur: Who will not be­haue themselues well towardes you, it is a sinne to suffer such wrongs with patience, because if thou resist them not with great bitternesse, and mali­tious heatred of heart, they will (without all kinde of measure) heape more vengence on thee. But deere Christian, heare how he maketh Patience to answere, Si passio Redemptoris ad mentem redu­citur, nihil tam durum quod non aeque toleretur, quanta enim sunt haec quae patimur comparatione illius? ille opprobria, irrisiones, contumelias, allapas, sputa, flagella, spiniam Coronam, Crucemque sus [...]inuit, & nos misert vno sermone fatigamur, vno verbo deij­cimur. But if thou woldest call to minde the Pas­sion of our Maister and Saviour Jesus Christ, There is nothing in the world so greivous or heavie that thou woldest not suffer. Alas, what can we suffer in respect of him, he suffered shame, [Page] and mocking, contumelies, buffets, spitting in his face, scourges, and the Crowne of thorne; and last of all, he was Crucified: and we poore soules are over-throwne with simple speech, a word casts vs downe. O what a bright mirror may the Patience of Christ be to man, even in his greatest wretched­nesse and misery. Let him call to minde the Passion of our Saviour, and then we shall see what great oddes is betwix his suffering and our suffering. It is onely the example of such a kinde and loving ma­ster, will giue the patience, if thou confidest in Christ and art a true Christian, Doctrina viri per pa­tientiam noscitur. Againe, will we deeply consider, and we shal finde that in this transetoreous life, that our estate is but meere misery, and a continuall change of sorrow; so our best is not else, but vexa­tion of minde, and greef vpon greef. We are heere in this world like the diseased creature, warsling, and stil turning on a bed of sorrow, burdained with sicknes, and can finde no repose, no satled lare, nor no rest to our restles tortring-tribulations. Or we are here like the wearied Pilgrim, who in many forraine Countries, far from his owne soyle, liveth exiled from his naturall home, and still wandering through many strange parts, in sundry perels, and divers dangers of his life, spending his dayes, and most parte of his nights in restlesse travell, he wal­keth the solitary deserts, and wanders along the spa­tious wildernesse; some-times oppressed with the vehemency of heat, and some-times tormented with the extremity of colde, when charitable harts [Page 58] affords him hospitality, and refreshment to his hun­gry bowels, how contented will he be, and how welcome will that rest and repose be, then he be ginneth to recall his past perrels to a reckoning, when all his paines are turned to pleasure, and when his longsome journey ends, which brings an end to all his miseries, when his fatigations is re­freshed, and his peregrinations hath no farther course, then rypeth he a fruitfull harvest, a joyfull season, and al the wearied Pilgrims paines are trans­formed in pleasure. We are all on earth going our pilgramage, tosting and tumbling vpon the large and depe Seaes of this world, threatned with the devouring gulfes of temptations, and still allured with the glittering vanities of this present life. Christ Jesus being our carefull Pilot, he crieth to vs poore passingers, and bids vs take heed to our jour­nay, that we perish not in our passage, but that we may be still earnest and watchfull, how to arryue to that saif harbery of all tranquillitie, that hea­venly and eternall joy, which shall finish all our troublesome travels. How may the thought of this progresse make vs to hate, to disdaine, and con­temne the vain-glory of this world. O how should we close our eies, and winke at such abuse, such su­perstitious vanities. Tell me who ever lived in greatest pompe? or who ever yet (to this houre) had most command over this world, but was for­ced to dye, and after death, be (as it were) quyte forgotten. Holy Iob sayeth, That their memory should be like ashes, troad vnder foote. And the Prophet Da­uid [Page] saieth, That they should be as dust blowen abroad with the winde. For what is all our glory? orwhat is all our ornaments? Noght else but filth. Our silkes and velvots which we wrap our selues in, is noght else bot the excraments of wormes, and all our estimations are but borrowed from beasts, our retches comes from the Centure of the earth. And so all this that makes vs proud is but very filth. Then what art thou, O man? Or what shall I com­pare thy self to? to noght else but to dust, and all thy glory is but earth & dust, blowne before the winde, thou art a masse of earth, wraped vp in earth. This made the wisdom of GOD say to mankinde, Quid superbitterra & cinis? Why doeth earth and dust become proud? When we haue tryed all things in this world, then with experience we will say, all things are vanishing like smooke, & nothing is du­rable excep the glory of GOD, all must turne to noght. What then shall rest to that soule who trusts in this earthly Paradice? Let his terrestial estate first consider the sight of the star-spangled-heavens, the glorious Sun, the light-borrowing Moone, the bewtie of women, delicat meates, savory gusts of sweet frutes, pleasant harmonies of fine & wel-sounding instruments, odeferous and fair floorished gardens, braue buildings, lassivous dansing, mirry compani­ons, quick-witted-discourses, and many more plea­sures, all must end, all must be changed: Heare this Proclamation, The voice of God said, Cry: and the Pro­phet said, Esay. 40. cap. O Lord what shall I cry? Cry out, that all flesh is grasse, and all the glory thereof is like the flower on the [Page 59] field: the grasse widreth, and the flower faideth. The Prophet Dauid saieth, Vniversa vanitas, omnis homo vivens. And what said great king Salomon in the top of his glory, All was but vanitie of vanities. And S. Iames calleth our life noght else but a vapor. How swiftlie are we gone, some by one meanes, some by other, man against man, beast against beast, every one becomes a prey to other, all must pay that doubtlesse debt of Death, no creature can escape, there is nothing more certaine, & there is nothing more vncertaine; we knowe not when, nor where, because statutum est omnibus semel mori, it is ordained that we shall all once dye. Then in our greatest mirth let vs ever say to our selues, Memento homo quod pulvis es, & in pulverim reverteris. O man, remember that thou art but dust, and in dust thou shalt returne againe. It is said of the ambitious wretch,‘Mendicant semper avari.’

THe mal-content hunts Fortune here and there,
His euer-tortring-thoughts disturbs his braine,
Till all his hopes be drown'd in deepe despare,
Then Time tels him his travels are in vaine,
O earthly-wretch, what glory canst thou gaine?
When fruteles-labor thy short life hath spent:
A restles minde with stil-tormenting paine,
Even whom a world of worlds could not content.
Frō such base thoghts heavens make my heart aspire,
And with a sweete contentment crowne desire.

[Page] Let vs beholde, and we shall see how in one day, (yea, even in one instant time) some making riatous bankets, some triumphing in all pleasures, some going to the scaffold to be executed, some women travelling with childe, & with great paines bring­ing their children to the world, some lying in sore sicknesse, exspecting death, the prisoner in bonds, looking when he should bid his last fair-well to the world, some carying their children with honour to receaue the Sacrament of Baptisme, the bryd-grome going with his bryde to solemnesse Matrimony. And againe, at that same instant, we shall see murn­full companies, celebrating the funeralles of the death, carying the dead carcatches, both of age and youth to the graue. It may truely be said of our in­constant estate.

Laeta sit ista dies nescitur origo secundi
An labor, an requies, sic transit gloria Mundi.

Sometimes are we merry, and sometimes are we sad, Nunquam in eodem statu. We are not perticepant of the secrets of GOD, It is onely his providence derects vs, we knowe not what suddaine change may come, such a swift course hath Time, and in this meane-time, the glory of this world goeth a­way, the most part of our life is spent in sleep, and how many in their mid-age is taken away, scarce are we come in the world, when we returne againe to the graue, very few comes to the period of Na­ture. O when we truely thinke on Death, and cal­leth to minde that perellous passage, how fearfull is it, and what a strange horror brings it to the heart [Page 60] of mankinde, and cheefly to the vnresolved, who lives in all liberty of pleasure, environed with all worldly contentment, O mors quam amara est memo­ria tua homini pacem habenti in substantiis suis: O Death how bitter is thy memory to that man who hes hurded vp ritches? how loath wil he be to leaue his beutiful buildings, his faire allurements, and his many pleasurs? What a greefe is it to his heart that he must departe and leaue them all behinde, and he needs must goe and compeir before that great and terrible Judge to giue a sharpe reckoning how he conquest all that ritches. O man thinke on thy end and thou shalt neuer sinne. Remember that thy glasse shall once be runne, and that thy Sonne shall set, and the horror of Death shall over-shadow thee, and that there shall no pleading be heard after sen­tence is once given, Quia ex inferno nulla est redemp­tio, Thy paines shall haue no end, thy torments shal haue no diminishing. Therefore to you J cal, to you that careles lives, and premeditats vpon mi­schief, and how to execute the damnable exploits of the ever-laboring minde. To you who are the ritch-gluttons of this world, and to you who feeles not with what sence I speik. Consider from whence you came, where you are for the present, and where you shall goe. You are here on Earth, Vbi spectaculum facti est is Deo, angelis & hominibus, where you are in sight of GOD, of Angels and of Men. Now when ye are going, looke well to your jour­ney, your passage is all straude over with thornes, it is a perelous way, full of Ominus-threatnings, [Page] planted with an hedge of many Prodegyous Objects, Non est vitae momentum, sine motu ad mortem, There is no moveing of lyfe without a motion to Death. Liue well, that you may dye well. For looke in what estate you dye, so GOD will finde you; and as he findeth you, so he Censu­reth you; and as he censureth you, so he liueth you for ever and ever. His decreit shall never be con­trolled, nor his sentence shall never be recalled. As a growing tree when it is cut downe falleth to that side where it did extend the branches when it was in growth; Even so if thou desirest to fall right, learne in thy grouth to extend such frutefull btanches as may sway thee to the right side, and make thee fall well. Sweete (saieth Saint Chriso­stome) is the end of the laborers, when he shall rest from his labors. The wearied traveller longeth for his nights lodging, and the storme-beatten­ship seeketh vp for shore, the hyreling oft questio­neth when his yeares will finishe and come out; the woman great with childe, will often muse and studie vpon her deliverie. And he that perfitelie knoweth that his life is but a way to death, wil with the poore prisoner sit on the doore threshold, and expect when the Jaylor shal open the doore; every small motion maketh him apprehend that the com­mander with the serjants are comming to take him from such a loath some prison. He looketh for death without feare, he desireth it without delight, and he excepeth it with great devotion, he acteth the last (and tragicall) parte of his life on a dulefull [Page 61] stage before the eyes of the world, his gesture thirls the beholders heart with sad compassion, his words of woe seasoned with sighes, doth bathe the cheeks of the hearers with still distilling teares, with a ge­nerall relation of his former wickednes, he giues a loude confession of his secret sinnes, with weeping eyes, he calls for help of prayer, and like a hunger­starued begger, he howles and cries to that honou­rable housholder, saying, O good God open the gates of thy mercies to the greatnes of my miseries. Cast vp the Ports of thy vnspeakable pittie to my wearied spirit: receaue my soule in thy hands, and anoynt her feastred wounds with the blood of thy immaculate Lambe Christ Jesus.

T's true indeede this age is very strange,
For why? behold great men of ritch renowne,
Time comes by turnes with vnexpected change,
And from their Tower of pride doth pull them downe:
Then what are we? but fooles of selfe-conceate,
All what we haue stands in a stag'ring state.
Wee weeping come into this world of cares,
And all our life's but battels of distresse,
Scarse is our prime when wint'ring age declares
What weightie griefe our body doth oppresse,
Bred with sinne, borne with woe, our life is paine,
Which still attends vs to our Graue againe,
Then earthly slime wherein consists thy pride?
Sith all thy glory goes into the ground,
[Page] That bed of wormes wherein thou shalt abide,
Thy fairest face most filthy shall be found:
Our sunne-shine joyes, time swiftly sweepes away,
This night we liue, and dies before the day.
Homo natus de muliere breui tempore viuens repletur multis miserijs.

CAn thou part from thy best beloved friends to goe in a farre Country, and not remember how it resembles the parting from this world to a more strange place. When thou rises in the mor­ning what knowest thou will chaunce thee before night. And if thou escape the dayes perrill, what knowest thou will chaunce before the morning: Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum, When thou goest to bed, remember how it is the verie image of thy graue: thy merrie companions are parted, thy day being gone, and come is thy night, thy riotous banqueting is finished, and thou in a so­litarie retreat, puts off thy gorgeous apparrell, and strips thy selfe naked to thy shirt: so the pleasures of this inconstant world shall part, thou shalt be stripped naked of all thy ritches, and shalt carie nothing with thee, but a simple winding-sheet this shall be, and this must be, Ʋt hora sic fugit vita: Therefore euery day take a reckoning of thy selfe, and euery moment examine thy actions. Mark thy behaviour first towards God, and next towards thy neighbour. Consider how the all-seeing eyes of heaven lookes vpon all thy doings: and euer be­ware [Page 62] of that sinne which thou knowest to predomi­nate most in thee, seek by all meanes to oppresse it and overcome it: take away all the occasions ther­of, or else it with the rest of thy sins, will draw thee to hells fire, where nothing else is, but gnashing of teeth, and eternall horrour. When thou hast com­mitted any greevous sinne, haue thou a true repen­tance, a vnfained remorse, and that thy heart shrill within thee with angry griefe against thy selfe, then thou may be assured that the spirit of God worketh in thee: for it is a sign of true & vnfained repētance, when the sinner (without all kinde of hypocrisie) mends his wicked life, making first satisfaction to the great God by fasting and praying, making resti­tution to thy neigbour, giue to the poore for Gods cause, visite the sick, comfort and help the prisoner, and giue hospitality to the distressed stranger:Isay. 58. Cap. Is it not to deale thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poore that wander into thine house. When thou seest the naked, that thou couer him, and hide not thy face from thine owne flesh, For in the poore miserable crea­ture, thou seest thy selfe as in a Glasse: And what (sayes the Prophet) shall be thy reward, Then shall thy light breake forth, as the morning, and thine health shall grow speedily, thy righteousnes shall goe before thee, and the glory of thy great God shall embrace thee, &c. Thy vpright conscience shal giue thee a great secu­rity of thy soules helth, thy mercies shal meet thee, & doubtlesse thy end shall be most happy: that bles­sed Euangelist S. Iohn sayes,Reuel. 14. cap. Blessed are the dead, who dies in the Lord, because they rest from their labours, [Page] and their works follow them. Now (good Christian Reader) J must end praying God that every one of vs all may haue an earnest cōsideration of our owne estate, what we are, where we are, and how we shal be heereafter: and once more J pray to our Lord God, that we may stil remember (hoc momentū vnde pendet aeternitas) that this little moment of our life, is the short space, whereon dependeth all eternity of eternall joyes, or else eternall paines: Jf wee haue bin wickedly enclined, let vs with the deepe of our hearts repent and think how the Axe is at the roote of the tree, and let vs all endevour our selues with the grace of God, to amend our life, that our filthie nakednes may not be seene in that fearefull & ter­rible day of judgement, Domine secundum actum me­um noli me judicare, nihil degnum in conspectu tuo egi: O Lord judge me not according to my actions, J haue done nothing worthy of mercy in thy sight. Cloath me with thy righteousnes, that I may appeare righ­teous before thy pittifull eyes. Iesus esto mihi Iesus, When the thundring voyce of thy Angels shal des­cend from the heavens, and cry out: O vos mortui qui Iacetis in sepulchris, surgite & occurite ad juditium saluatoris: O you dead creatures that lies in your graues, rise and runne swiftly to the judgement of the Saviour, who with all his glorious Saints and triumphing Martirs, shall sit in his throne of vn­speakable glory, and judge both the quick and the dead, to him be all honour, power, and glory now and for euermore, Amen.


THE SPIRIT OF GRACE To the wicked sinner.

ISAY. 55. CAP.‘Let the wicked forsake his wayes, and the vnrighteous his owne imaginations, and returne vnto the Lord, and our God wil haue mercie vpon him.’
O Man the treasure of Gods glorious eye,
Thou art ingrate, and to thy selfe vnkinde;
Poore Caitiue wretch who sees and will not see,
Nor to eternall blisse will turne thy minde:
Rise sloathfull rise, forth of thy senslesse sleepe,
And for thy sinnes, go sigh, bewaile, and weepe.
Heare how thy Saviour Iesus Christ doth call,
Come wearied and you burth'ned both to me,
Come, come, sayes he, I will refresh you all,
What sweeter words would thou haue said to thee?
Thou art that sheep, which wādring went astray,
Christ on his back will bring thee to thy way.
Thou sinfull man is so with sinne allur'd,
That pleasure of thy sinne doth hold thee fast;
Thy wit, thy will, thy reason all obscur'd,
And now behold, forgets thy God at last:
Thou art intrapp'd within ten thousand snares,
And blindlins rins to hell, thou never cares.
The flying motions of thy minde still burnes,
And forward goes, her furie to fulfill:
Youth and desire, whose raging humor turnes
[Page] To execute the horrour of their ill
With no les price, thē with thy soule is bought,
And whē all's got, they are but things of nought.
Both day and night thou doth thy selfe annoy,
To worke great mischiefe with thy owne misdeeds,
Lesse travaile farre would gaine eternall joy,
Which sweet Reward, all earthly paines exceeds:
But thou art mad, and in thy madnesse strange,
To quit thy God, and take the devill in change.
At threatning ever senslesse, deafe, and dumb,
Thou never lookes on thy swift-running-Glasse;
Nor terror of the Judgement for to come,
But still thou thinks, thy pleasure can not passe:
All is deceit, and thou hast no regard,
Gods wrath at last, the sinner will reward.
To pray to God: why? then thou art asham'd,
For sinne in thee shall suffer seandalies,
Thy rusty filth of conscience shall be blam'd,
Besides, thy soule hath spoil'd her faculties:
Thus doth the deuill so hold thee still aback,
Euen to the death, and then thy soule doth take.
Alas poore soule, when God did first thee frame,
Most excellent, most glorious and perfit:
But since thou in that carnall body came,
Thy favour's lost, spoil'd is thy substance quite:
O that thou would repent, and turne in time,
God wil thee purge, & clange thee of thy crime.
God is a God of vengeance, yet doth stay,
And sparing, waites if thou thy life will mend
With harmlesse threatnings oft he doth assay,
And oft he doth sweet words of comfort send:
If thou repent, his anger will asswage:
If not, he will condemne thee in his rage.
The sonne of God, he for thy sinfull sake,
To saue thy soule, with care he did provide,
Mans filthy nature on him he did take,
That he both cold, and hunger might abide:
He many yeers on earth great wōders wrought,
Still persecute, and still his life was sought.
When as his time of bitter death drew neere,
The agony was so extreame he felt,
That when he pray'd vnto his Father deere,
In sweating drops of bloud he seem'd to melt:
Nail'd on the Crosse he suffer'd cruell smart,
vvhen as they pierc'd his hands, his feet, his hart.
Great torment more was laid, on him alone,
For thee and all mankind who will beleeue:
Thou was not bought, with siluer, gold, nor stone,
But Christ his life and precious bloud did giue:
O let not then his bloud be shed in vaine,
Whil'st thou hast time, turne to thy God againe.


JOB. 7. CAP.‘I haue sinned, what shall I doe vnto thee? (O thou preser­uer of mankinde.)’
LEd with the terrour of my grievous sinnes,
Before Gods mighty Throne I do compeare,
The horrour of my halfe-burst heart begins
To strike my sinfull soule with trembling feare.
Where shall I seeke secourse, or finde redresse?
Who can my fearefull tort'ring thoughts devorce?
Who can me comfort in my great distresse?
Or who can end the rage of my remorce?
I at compassions dore hath begg'd so long,
That I am hoarce, and yet can not be heard
Amids my woes, sad silence is my song,
From mirthlesse-me, all pleasure is debard.
O time (vntimely time) why was I borne?
To liue sequestred solitar alone
Within a wildernesse of Cares forlorne,
Which grants no limit to my mart'ring Mone.
My mart'ring Mone with wofull words doth pierce
The aire, and next from hollow Caues rebounds
This aequiuox my sorrow doth rehearse,
And fills my eares with tributarie sounds.
These sounds discends within my slaught'red hart,
And there transform'd in bleeding drops appeares
Next to my eyes drawen vp with cruell smart,
In water chang'd, and then distill'd in teares.
My teares which falls with force vpon the ground,
Jn numbers great of little sparks doth spread,
And in each spark my dolefull pictures found,
J in each picture tragick stories read.
I read Characters both of sinne and shame,
Drawne with the colours of my owne disgrace,
In figures black of impious defame,
Which painted stands in my disastred face.
I breathlesse faint with burthen of their woes,
Such is my paine it will not be expell'd,
Doe what I can, I can finde no repose,
All hope of help against me is rebell'd.
Gods mercie's great, I will expell dispaire
With praying still: I shall the heavens molest
Both night and day, vnto my God repaire,
He will me heare, and help my soule opprest.
The thought of hell makes all my haires aspire,
Where gnashing teeth sad sorows doth out-sound,
Where damned soules still boiles in flaming fire,
And where all endlesse torment doth abound.
Had they but hope, it might appease their griefe,
That in ten thousand yeares they should be free:
But all in vaine, despaire without reliefe,
Gods word eternall, most eternall be.
When as our Christ in Judgement shall appeare,
Cloath'd with the Glory of his shining light,
And when each soule the trūpets sound shal heare,
They with their corps must com before Gods sight.
The Angels all, and happy troups of heaven,
Incirkled rounds theatred in each place,
A reck'ning sharp of eu'ry one is given
Before the Saints, and Gods most glorious face.
The sloathfull sinner then shall be asham'd,
Who in his life would neither mend nor mourne
To heare that sentence openly there proclaim'd:
Goe wicked to eternall fire, and burne.
And to his blessed company, he sayes,
The Angels to my Kingdome shall convoy
With endlesse mirth, because ye knew my wayes,
Come rest with me in never-ending joy.
O let me Lord be one of thy elect,
And once againe thy loue to me restore,
Let thy inspiring grace my spirit protect,
With thee to bide, and never part no more.
Once call to minde how deerly I am bought,
When thy sweet corps was spred vpon the Rood,
Thy suff'ring torment, my saluation wrought
Thy paines, thy death, and shedding of thy blood.
O seeke not then my soule for to assaile
Against thy might: how can I make defence,
Thy bleeding death for me will naught auaile,
Jf thou should damne me for my lewd offence?
Try not thy strength, against me wretched worme,
I am but dust before thy furious winde,
Nor haue I force to bide thy angry storme,
Then rather farre, let me thy favour finde.
I Caitiue on this earth doth loure and creepe,
I prostrate fall before the heavens defaite,
On thee sweet Christ with mourning tears I weepe
To pittie this my weake and poore estate.
My poore estate which rob'd of all content,
And nothing else but dolours doth retaine,
The treasure of my griefe is never spent,
But still in secret sorrow I complaine.
Heare my complaint, mark wel my words, ô Lord,
Thou searcher of all hearts in euery kinde,
Thou to my true conuertion beare record,
And sweepe away my sinnes out of thy minde.
I sacrifice to thee my Saviour sweet,
And patient God who gaue me leaue to liue
My sighing-teares, and bleeding heart contreit,
I haue naught else nor ritcher gift to giue.
Thou God the Father, thou created me,
And made all things obedient to mans will:
Thou sonne of God to saue my soule didst die,
And Holy ghost thou sanctifiest me still.
Thou Father, Sonne, thou holy Ghost divine,
On my poore soule, let your ritch glory shine.


‘Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis.’
EAch hath his Time whom Fortune will aduance,
Whose fickle wheel runs restlesse round about
Some flatt'ring lye oft changeth others chance
Dangers deceipt in guiltie hearts breeds doubt.
It's seene
What yet hath beene
With tract of time to passe,
And change
Of Fortune strange
At last hath turn'd their glasse.
Enuie triumph's on tops of high Estate
All over-hung with veiles of feigned show.
Man climbes aboue the course of such conceate
That loftie-like, they loath to looke below.
And what?
All's hazard that
Wee seeke on Diceto set,
For some
To height's doe come
Then falls in dangers net.
The gallant man, if poore, hee's thought a wretch,
His vertue rare is held in high disdaine,
The greatest Foole is wise, if he be ritch
And wisedome flowes from his lunatick braine.
Thus see
Rare sprit's to bee
Of no account at all.
Hath got such place
Each joyes at others fall.
The brib'rous minde who makes a God of gould,
He scornes to plead without he haue reward,
Then poore mens suites at highest rates are sould,
Whil'st Au'rice damn'd, nor Ruth hath no regard.
For heere
He hath no feare
Of Gods consuming curse
His gaines
Doth pull with paines
Plagues from the poore mans purse.
The furious flames of Sodom's sodaine fire,
With feruent force consume vain Pride to nought,
With wings of wax let soaring him aspire
Aboue the starres of his ambitious thought.
And so
When he doth go
On top of Prides high glory
Then shall
His sodaine fall
Become the worlds sad Story.
Ingratitude that ill, ill-favour'd Ill
In noble breasts hath builded Castles strong,
Oliuion sets-vp the Troph's that still
Bewrayes the filthy vildnesse of that wrong.
Ah minde
Where deu'lish kinde
Ingratitude doth dwell
That Ill
Coequals still
The greatest Ill in hell.
On poysons filth contagious Error spreads,
Heau'ns spotlesse eyes looks as amaz'd with wōder,
Their Vip'rous mindes such raging horror breeds
To teare Religions virgin-roabes asunder.
What then
O wicked men
And Hels eternall pray
Goe mourne
And in time turne
From your erronious way.
What course wants crosse? what kind of state wants strife?
vvhat worldling yet could euer seem cōtent?
What haue we heere in this our thwarting life?
Ioy, Beautie, Honour, Loue, like smoak are spent.
I say
Time goe's away
Without returne againe
How wise!
Who can despise
These worldly vapours vaine.


Del' Ape ch' Io prouai Dolce, e Crudele
L' agonel Core, enela bocca iL mele.
ONce did I see
a sounding Bee.
Amongst her sweetned swarme
still would shee flee
and favour me.
Then did I dread no harme.
Now whilst in Nectred-glory of her gaines,
She sits and suckes the faire well-flourish'd flower:
My sugred hopes are turn'd to bitter paines,
And look'd-for-sweet is nothing else but sower:
Ah cruell sweet, Bee sweet and cure my smart,
Hony my mouth, but doe not sting my hart.

HIS PASSION ADO, When he was in Pilgrimage.

‘Quo fata vocant.’
THou Phaeton thy firy course do'st end,
And Cinthia thou with borrow'd light do'st shine
These woods their silēthorrors do out-send
And Vallies lowe their mistie Vapors shrine,
Each liuely thing by Natures course doth goe
To rest, saue I, that wander now in woe.
My plaints imparts these soli'd partes to fill,
Weil'st roaring Rivers sends their sounds among,
Each dreadful Den appeares to helpe me still,
And yeelds sad Consorts to my sorr'wing song:
How oft I breath this wofull word, alace,
From Eccho I sad accents backe imbrace.
I will advance, what feares can me affraye?
Since Dreades are all debar'd by high dispere,
Like dark-nighs Ghost, I Vagabound astraye,
With troubled spri't transported here and there,
None like my selfe, but this my selfe alone,
I martir'd Man be waile my matchlesse mone.
You flintie-stones take eares and eies to see
This thundring-greif, with Earth-quake of my hart,
That you may sigh and weep with miser-Mee,
Melt at the tragick Commentes of my smart:
Let these my teares that fall on you so oft,
Make your obdurate hardnesse to be soft.
You liquid-drops, distilling from mine eies,
In Christall you my second-selfe appeares;
Patterne of paine, how do'st thou sympathize
In visage wan, and Pilgrim's weede thou beares?
And on these signes of miscontent-attire.
Still doe I read, debard from my desire.
This hairie-Rob which doth my corps conteen,
This Burden, and my rough-vnrased-heade
A Winter and a Sommer haue I been
In dangers great, still wandring in this weede;
Loe thus the force of my disasters strange
Hath made me make this vnacquainted-change.
I am dri'd vp with Dolors I endure,
My hollowe eyes bewray's my restles night,
My visage pale, self pittie doth procure,
I see my soares deciphr'd in my sight,
A Pilgrime still, my Oracle was so,
And made my name, AH MISER MAN I GO.
Now doe I goe, and wander any way,
No strange estate, no kinde of trau'ling toyles,
No threatning Crosse, nor sorrow can me stay,
[Page 70] To search and seeke through all the sorts of soyles.
So round about this Round still haue I run,
Where I began, againe I haue begun.
In strangest parts, where stranger I may bee,
An out-cast lost, and voyed of all releife,
When saddest sight of sorrow I can see,
They to my graue shall helpe to feede my greife:
If Wonders selfe can wofull wonders showe,
That sight, that part, that wonder I will knowe.
Thus doe I walke on forreigne fields forlorne,
To carelesse Mee, all cares doe proue vnkinde,
I doe the Fates of fickle Fortune scorne,
Each crosse now breeds contentmēt to my minde
Astonish of stupendious things by day,
Nor howling sounds by night can me affray.
You stately Alpes surmounting in the skyes,
The force of floods that frō your hights doun falles
There mightie Clamors with my carefull Cryes,
The Ecchoes voice from hollow Caues recalles:
The snow-froz'n-cluds down frō your tops do thū ­der
their voice with mine doth tear the air a sūder.
And Neptune thou when thy proud swelling wrath
Frō gulphs to mountains mou'd with winters blast
In anger great when thou didst threaten Death
Oft in thy rage, thy raging stormes I past,
And my salt teares increast my saltnes more,
My sighs with winds made all thy bowels roare.
The spatious earth & groundlesse deep shall beare
A true Record, of this my mart'ring mone;
And if there were a world of worlds to heare,
(When from this mortall Chaos I am gone)
I dare approue my sorrow hath bin such,
That all their witt's can not admire too much.
On the colde ground my Caytife-carcasse lyes,
The leaueles-trees my Winter-blasted-bed:
Noe Architecture but the Vap'rous skyes,
Black-foggie-Mist, my weari'd corps hath cled,
This loathsome Laire, on which I restles tourne
Doth best befit Mee-Miser-man to mourne.
With open eies Nights-darknes I disdaine,
On my Cros'd-brest I Crosse my Crossed armes;
And when repose seekes to prevent my paine,
Squadrons of Cares doe sound their fresh alarmes
So in my sleep (the Image of pale-Death)
These sighing words with burthē-brus'd I breath
I ever rowl'd my Barge against the streame,
I scal'd those steppes that Fortune did me frame,
I Conquer'd, which impossible did seeme,
I, haples I, once happie I became:
Now sweetest joy is turn'd to bitter gall,
The higher vp, the greater was my fall.
What passing Follies are in high Estates,
Whose foolish hopes giues promise to aspire:
Self-flatt'rie still doth maske the feare of fates,
[Page 71] Till vnawars deceiu'd in sought desire:
This breeds dispare, thē force of Fortunes change
Sett's high Estates in dread and perrill strange.
There secret grudge, Envie and Treason dwelles,
There Justice lies, in Dole-bewraying weede:
There flyding Time with alt'ring feates still telles
The great Attempts ambitious mindes doe breed:
They who haue most, stil hunts for more & more
They most desire that most ar choak'd with store.
Henceforth will I forsake Terrestiall Toyes,
Which are nought else but shawdowes of deceat,
What cover'd danger is in earthly joyes,
When vilde Envie, triumphes on each Estate.
Thou Traytour Time, thy Treason doth betray,
And makes youths Spring in florish faire decay.
What's in Experience which I haue not sought,
All (in that All) my will I did advance,
At highest rate, all these my witts are bought
In Fortunes-Lottrie, I haue try'd my Chance,
So what I haue, I haue it not by showe,
But by Experience which I truely knowe.
Long haue I searcht, and now at last I finde
Eye-pleasing Calmes the tempest doth obscure,
When I in glory of my prosperous winde,
With white-sweld-sayles on gentle seas secure,
And when I thoght my loadstar shinde most faire
Ev'n then my hopes made shipwrack on dispaire
My sight is dark, whil'st I am over-throwne,
Poore silly Barke that did pure loue possesse:
With great vngratefull stormes thus am I blowne
On ruthlesse Rocks, still deafe at my distresse.
So long-sought-Conquest doth in ruin's bost,
And saies behold, thy loue and labor's lost.
Since all my loue and labor's lost, let Fame
Spit forth her hate, and with that hatefull scorne
In darke oblivion sepulchrize my name,
And tell the world that I was never borne.
In me all earthly dream'd-of-joy shall ende,
As Indian hearbs which in black smok I spend.
Al-doting pleasure, that all tempting-devill,
I shall abhor, as a contag'ous Pest
I'le purge and clense my senses of that Evill,
I sweare and vow, still in this vow to rest,
In sable-habit of the mourning blacke,
I'le solemnize my oath and vow I make.
Then goe vaine World, confused Masse of nought,
Thy bitternesse hath now abus'd my braine,
Avoid thy deu'llish Fancy from my thought,
With idle toyes torment me not againe:
My Time which thy alluring folly spent,
With heart contreat and teares I doe repent.


TO thee my Soyle where first
I did receaue my breath,
These mournefull Obsequies I sing
Before my Swan-like Death,
My loue by Nature bound,
Which spotles loue as dew,
Even on the Altar of my heart
I sacrifice to yow.
Thy endlesse worth through worlds
Beginning still begunne,
Long may it shine with beames most bright
Of vneclipsed-Sunne.
And long may thou Triumph,
With thy vnconquer'd hand,
And with the Kindomes of thy King
Both Sea and Earth command
At thy great Triple-force,
This trimbling world still stoup's;
Thy Martiall Arme shall over-match
The Macedonian trup's.
And thou the Trophees great
Of glory shall erect,
The Confeins of this spatious Glob,
Thy Courage shall detect.
[Page] O happie Soyle Vnyt
Let thy Emperiall breath
Expell seditious Muteners,
The excraments of wrath.
With Honor, Trueth and Loue,
Maintaine thy thre-fold-Crowne,
Then so shalt thou with wondrous worth,
Inritch thy ritch Renowne.
In spight of Envyes pride,
Still may thy florish'd Fame;
Confound thy foes, defend thy right,
And spurne at Cowards shame.
Amidst my sorrowing greef,
My wandring in exyle,
Oft looke I to that Arth, and saies,
Far-well sweete Britains Iyle.

TO THE GHOST OF THE right Honorable JOHN GRAHAME Earle of MONTROIS, sometime Vice­Roy of North-Britaine.

THy meriet great to Honor gaue a Crowne,
In Invyes-spight thy spotles-Faith did shine,
Thy stately Fame inthrond thy ritch renowne,
And Deaths triumph hath made thy soule divine.
Death kild thy mortall Corps,
But not thy glorious Name:
Whose life is stil with wings-born-vp
Of Honor, Faith and Fame.


GOe Traytour Time and authorize my wrong,
My wrack, my wo, my wayting on bewray;
Looke on my heart, which by thy shifts so long
Thou Tyranniz'd with Treason to betray,
My hopes are fled, my thoughts are gone astray,
And senslesse I haue sorrow in such store
That paine it selfe, to whom I am a pray
Of me hath made a mart'red-man and more.
Goe, goe then Time, I hatefull thee implore,
To memorize my sad and matchlesse mone
Whilst thy decepts by Death I shall decore,
My losse of life shall make them known each one,
So I (poore I) I sing with Swan-like-song,
Goe Traytour Time and Authorize my wrong.


‘Circundederunt me dolores mortis, & peri­cula inferni in venerunt me.’
NOw haplesse Heart, what can thy sors asswage,
Since thou art gript with horror of deaths hād
Thou (baleful-thou) becoms the Tragick stage,
Where all my tortring thoughts theatred stand,
Grief, feare, death, thoght, each in a mōstrous kinde
Like vgly monsters muster in my minde.
Thou loathsome bed to restlesse-martred-Mee,
Voide of repose, fil'd with consuming cares;
I will breath forth my wretched life on thee,
For quenchlesse wo and paine, my graue prepares
Vnto pale-agonizing-Death am thrall,
Then must I goe and answere to his call.
O Memorie most bitter to that man,
Whose God is Golde, and hoords it vp in store;
But O that blind-deceiuing-Wealth, what can
It saue a life, or add one minute more?
When he at rest, rich-treasure in his sight,
His Soule (poore foole) is tane away that night.
And strangers gets the substance of his gaine,
Which he long sought with endles toyles to finde,
This vilde-worlds-filth, and excraments most vaine,
He needs must dye, and leaue it all behinde:
O man in minde remember this, and mourne,
Naked thou cam'st, and Naked must retourne.
I naked came, and naked must retourne,
Earths start'ring pleasure is an idle toy;
For now I sweare my very Soule doth spurne,
That breath that froth, that moment-fleeting-joy;
Then fare-well World, let him betrai'd still bost
Of all mischiefe that in Thee trusteth most.
Burnt Candle, all thy store consum'd thou end's,
Thy lightning splendor threats for to be gone,
O how dost thou resemble Mee that spend's,
And sighs forth life in sighing forth my mone?
Thy light Thee lothes, I loth this lothed life,
Full of deceipt, false-envie, grudge and strife.
I call on Time, Tim's alt'red by the change,
I call on Friends, Friends haue clos'd vp their eares;
I call on Earthly-powers, and they are strange,
I call in vaine when Pittie none appeares.
Both Time and Friends, both Earthly-powers and al,
All in disdaine are deafe at my hoarse call.
Then Prayer flow from my heart-humbling-knees
To the supreame Coelestiall power aspire
Shew thou my grief to Heavens-al-seing-eies
[Page] Who never yet deny'd my just desire:
Mans-help is nought, O GOD thy help I craue,
Whose spotles-bloud my spotted-soule did saue.
Then take my soule, which bought by thee is thine
Earth-harbring-worms take thou my corps of clay
O Christ on me eternall mercy shine,
Thy bleiding wounds wash all my sins away:
I come, I come, to thee O Jesu sweit,
And in thy hands I recommend my spirit.

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