THE Hate of Treason, VVith a touch of the late Treason.

By N. B.

Printed at London 1616.

To the most high and noble Lord the Duke of Lineux, health, ho­nour, and eternall happinesse.

RIght honourable, and my gracious good Lord, your apparant true love to his Ma­iestie, with your assured hate to all his enemies hath made me out of my hum­ble hearts love and service, to his Maiestie and your Grace, to write these few invective lines a­gainst the most hatefull, and horrible nature of Treason, and Traitors: I name no person offen­dant, and wish there were no such offence. But ho­ping that God will weede out the wicked, and blesse his Maiesty with a world of loving Subiects & encrease his love with many such good friends' as your selfe, in prayer for his Maiesties, and your long life, with health, and all hearts happinesse, I humbly rest

Your Graces in all humble service, N. B.

To all that love God, and the King.

NObles, and Gentlemen, and all other his Maiesties loving subiects, of what condition soever, let me laie before your eies a few invective lines, a­gainst the horrible nature of Trea­son, and especially against so graci­ous a King, Queene, and Prince, so honourable a Counsaile, and so blessed a State. The consideration whereof, may make the hearts of all true Christians to tremble, to thinke that the Divell had so great a power in the world, as to sow so much wickednesse in the hearts of vnhappie men. But, God that euer is, and will be gracious vnto his, hath revealed their vil­lanie, and so preserved his people, as in the preservation of our King and Countrey, from the Divell and all his devices, hath given iust cause, day and night to give glo­rie to his holie Maiestie, to whose Almightie tuition and mercifull goodnesse I leave thee. From my lodging in London.

Your friend as I find cause.

An Invective against Treason.

OH what a wretched wicked world is this,
So little faith in soules, or loue in hearts!
So many minds, mind nothing but amisse.
Thus on this earth, can Divels play their parts,
To poyson soules with such infernall darts,
Can nothing flow but wealth and wickednesse,
To drowne the world in all vngodlinesse.
What mischiefe walkes among the minds of men?
Will nothing serve their discontented wills?
Must they needes run into the divels den?
Are these the scopes of Machiuilian skill,
That all the world, with his infection fills?
Oh God, what divell could in ill go further?
Then pride in malice practice hellish murther.
To kill at all, is an vnkinde desire,
To kill a foe, is but a bloody fact,
To kill a friend, a heate of hellish fire,
To kill a neighbour, an vngratious act,
To kill a brother, horrors fowle abstract,
To kill a father, too vnnaturall,
To kill a king, the wickedst deede of all.
For, father, brother, neighbour, friend, or foe,
In each of these, but few to ruine runne:
But in a King, or Princes overthrow,
How many thousand thousands are vndone?
Wo worth the hand that such ill threed hath spun,
As by the worke of Sathans wickednes,
A world of Christians should endure distresse.
But all together, King, Queene, Prince, and Peere,
The Bishop, Lord, the Iudge, the Magistrate,
When they should all in parliament appeare,
For the establishing of a blessed state,
Even then to shew the horror of their hate,
And by a fire, devised for the nonce,
To teare the house, and blowe them vp at once.
What eare doth heare, whose spirit doth not trem­ble
To thinke vpon the horror of this act,
If all the Divells did in hell assemble,
Among themselves to make a foule compact:
How could they finish a more hainous fact,
Than so to seeke the ruine of a State,
And leave so faire a Land so desolate?
But God in heaven, who from his seat beholdeth,
Heav'n, earth, sea, hel, & what ech one containeth,
And every thought of every heart vnfoldeth,
And for his service, all and some retaineth,
Hating the pride his powerful hand disdaineth:
Hath broke the force of all their wicked frame,
And made their work vnto the world a shame.
But of the griefe of griefes, in gratious thought,
To see a villaine on a vertuous King,
By a secret malice to have murder sought,
Murder on him, and on his after spring;
What eare hath heard of a more hellish thing,
Than for a little gaine of prides content,
To practise murther on the Innocent?
Our gratious King, on whom the King of Grace
Hath rainde a showre of his eternall Graces,
And over vs, hath given the Kingly place,
Of high command, command the King of places
Ordainde for him, and for his royall Races:
This godly King whom God himself hath sent
What do we aile, that he cannot content.
To whom is he a foe? but to our foes,
A neighbour borne, and ever found a friend,
In love, a brother, and his care who knowes
Might, as a sonne, a fathers love commend:
And, for a King, let it be wisely weende.
And Reasons eies will see that Royalty,
That will coniure a Christians loyalty.
Whose proved love hath he left vnregarded,
Whom, but the wicked, hath hee ever hated?
Whose vertuous acts hath he left vnrewarded?
Whose power, but Prides, hath ever he abated?
Whose humble suites hath he left disalated?
Whose true affect, but he in favour graces?
Whose gratious life, but he in love embraces?
Whose Virgines hath his wanton loue defloured,
Whose worthy honour hath his scorne disgraced,
Whose wealth hath he with auarice deuoured,
Whose loue despised, or whose fame defaced,
Or vertuous person from his place displaced:
What proued grace, but in his grace approued,
To make his Grace of gratious harts beloued.
Learnings aduauncer, and Religions loue,
Wisedomes affecter, Reasons studient,
Valours maintainer, Vertues Turtle doue,
Of Maiesty earths royall President:
Graces companion, Honours continent,
Heau'ns gratious blessing, & worlds worthy won­der,
Liue our king Iames, to bring earths kingdoms vn­der.
Amen, good God, and Diuell let them be,
Who to this prayer will not say Amen,
Blinde be his eies, and let him neuer see,
Who [...]ides himselfe in vtter darkenesse denne,
And pinnes his thoughts vp in impatience penne,
Where by the traines of treasons foule illusion,
He brings both soule and body to confusion.
Oh, tis a woe, to thinke vpon the thought,
That entreth into a defiled heart:
And with what speede the wit is ouerwrought,
That once is led to learne the Diuells Arte,
Who will haue all, if once he get a parte:
Where still one sinne he heapes vpon an other,
Till he the soule in vtter darkenes smother.
He makes a King esteemd below his state,
Murder, a Plot, where Policie may plod,
Pride, a brave humor, Wealth a Magistrate,
Content a kingdome, and a King a God:
But in these humours heaven and he are odde:
For, good mistaken makes him prove so evill,
As far from God doth make him prove a devil.
Oh when a crue of ydle headed wits,
That think they have a world within their brains,
To counsaile fall in their fantasticke fits,
By lacke of grace, to lay vngratious traines,
See how they make their profite of their paines:
Sorow & shame, despaire, death & damnation,
The Story writes of Iudas constellation.
What can be thought to be the fruit of Treason?
Feare in the heart before it be effected,
A lacke of Grace, and an abuse of Reason,
Where heedelesse wit is ill, by wil directed,
Till both by Wisedome ruinde and reiected:
While hope of honor runs on Fortunes wheels,
Findes death, and hell to follow at their heeles.
Who can have pitty on so vile a soule,
As murder seekes on such a gratious King?
Let him be put into the divels roule,
Whose heart can yeeld to such a hellish thing:
For but from hell doe all such horrors spring:
Where let vs see how wicked wits do worke,
And how the divell in their wills doth lurke.
When Craft hath gotten wealth, and Riches ease,
And ease bred pride, and pride ambition,
Ambition seekes but it owne selfe to please,
And lacke of pleasure breedes sedition:
Then if a wicked soules condition
Beginne to builde the Tower of Babilon,
Who will not laugh at his confusion?
Who hath enough, and yet will looke for more,
Let him remember Midas choaking gold:
And such a Steward for the Divels store,
Onely in heauen, doth his chiefe office hold.
Who hath for coine his soule and conscience sold:
A Traitor proues in such a high degree,
As merites hanging on the highest Tree.
When God in mercie sends a gracious King,
A gracious King gives tokens of his love,
A loving King is such a heavenly thing,
As onely grace doth give from God above,
To such a King who doth a Traitor prove,
To God and man, doth fall out so vngratefull,
As both to God & man must needs be hateful.
Fie on the world that ever wickednesse,
Should roote it selfe so in the heart of man,
While gracelesse thoughts in all vngodlinesse,
Do onely tincke vpon the golden pan,
And make their bread of an vnkindly bran:
Which seeming wheat, is but a wicked weede,
Sowne by the divell, in a hellish seede.
The busie braines that in their high conceits,
Begin to build strange Castels in the aire,
Will find their humours fall out but deceits,
When lacke of wit doth prove but follies heire,
While patience passion sits in Sorowes chaire:
To see Repentance proue the best event,
That can fall out of Rashnesse discontent.
Oh glorious God, since man was first created,
Was ever heard so great a villanie!
Did ever men deserve so to be hated,
As this accursed hellish companie,
That in their soules doe hide such treacherie!
Let all the world, through all the world go seek,
What eie hath seene, or eare hath heard the like.
But our good God, that with his gracious eie
Beholdes his children in his charie love,
And in the greatnesse of his Maiestie,
The siely weakenesse of our soules doth prove,
With his high glorious mercies hand above,
Even when we most his mercie have offended.
Still from destruction, hath our state defended.
O blessed Britaine, more then greatly blessed,
In God, thy King; his Councell, and thy state,
How can his glorie be enough expressed?
Which to the world they wonders may relate,
When not by force of Fortune, nor of Fate,
But by his grace, thy King and Counsailes care,
This thy deliuerance iustly may declare.
Oh heathen, hatefull, and most hellish soules,
Void of all thought of God or of his grace,
That so could make their throates such bloody bowls
And such a poison in their spirits place,
All roote of honour, from the land to race!
O that such beasts, as so much shame do beare,
Could be forgot as though they never were.
Surely in hell this plot had first a breeding,
From thence, in low places talk't vpon,
Low in a Seller, had it then proceeding:
And there by low spirits wrought vpon:
To seeke a kingdomes whole confusion:
Thus, low in earth and hell, by wicked fiends,
Wicked beginnings, make as wicked ends.
But truly lowly had those spirits beene,
They had not set their haughtie minds so high,
Nor had their eies with shame and sorrow seene,
The hatefull fruits of hellish treacherie,
But Pride, the plotter of all villanie,
In cursed thoughts where all confusions dwell,
Wrought low in earth to bring them down to hel.
For Gallowes minds, not gallant minds indeed,
That make Rebellion but a rule of wit,
Do seldome better with their Treason speede.
Then iustly is for such offences fit,
For, God himselfe that ever hateth it,
How ere the Divell blinds the damned eies,
Will plague it with a world of miseries.
Fooles more then mad, with strange imagination,
A spiring higher then the hope of Grace,
Do headlong runne their soules vnto damnation:
Carelesse to note the nature of their race.
While beggers seeke both Lordes and Kings to place,
Working such wonders as were never knowne,
Till all their wicked thoughts be overthrowne.
But, was there ever such a wicked dreame,
To overthrowe a kingdome with a blast?
Did ever witts so worke against the streame,
All care of conscience from the heart to cast,
And with their soules to run to hell so fast:
It cannot be, but that the men were mad,
That in their braines such wicked humors had.
For when King, Prince, and lord, and knight were gone
Then beggars would begin a gouernment:
And lords and princes shall be euery one
Within the compasse of the Continent
Of this rebellious beastly rabblement:
But of this dreame see what a wake doth fall,
Mercy or Death must make an end of all.
Do we not see it euery houre effected,
Treason still hatefull both to God and man?
And traitrous harts from heavenly truth reiected,
And hell the place where first the Plot began,
When Sathan first did seeke the spoile of man,
When Eua [...]s pride, and Iudas auarice,
Do shew the compasse of their deepe deuice.
O Pride, betrayer of vntempred thought!
And Avarice, the enemy to grace,
Which brings the haps of al their hopes to noght,
That in their soules doe suffer them a place,
Most filthy sinnes that doe all fame deface.
God blesse all Britans, and all Britany,
From all the venome of such villany.
And now, sweete Lord, that you do plainely see,
How God doth plague this hellish sinne of Pride,
And what the end of all those Traitors bee,
That in their hearts do such a venome hide;
O let it never neere your heart abide,
But thinke the note of Truths nobility,
All in the vertue of Humility.
Prowde Lucifer an Angell was of Light,
Till he presumde to mount a steppe too hie,
But see what grew of his vngratious fight,
From heaven to hell he gat his fall thereby,
A iust reward of wicked treachery:
Where losse of grace, & gaine of endles griefe,
Paies home the prowd, the traitor, & the thiefe.
For, Pride first layes the wicked Plot of Treason,
Treason steales into the ambitious breast,
Ambition robs both wit and sence of Reason;
The heart of Truth, the spirit of his Rest,
And makes it cursed, that might else be blest:
Of hellish pride, the onely Traytor Thiefe,
That is the ground of all eternall griefe.
Why Pride doth blinde, the eie infects the minde,
Venoms the heart, and gives the soule a sting:
And in all vilenes of so vile a kinde:
None can describe it, tis so vile a thing,
It doth ill humours to such issue bring,
That pitty twere but such a plague approved,
From christian hearts should ever be removed.
O the sweete sence of Loves humilitie!
Which feares displeasure in a dearest friend,
The onely note of Truths nobilitie,
Whose worthy Grace is graced without end:
For, who wants faith, wants little of a fiend:
While faithful love, in humble truth approved,
Doth ever live, of God and man beloved.
Alas, the little time of Natures leave,
To runne the course of her allotted care,
Where idle shadowes, the eie deceave,
That onely hunteth after Fortunes share:
And had, must leave it ere it be aware:
Looke, looke at heav'n, and let the world go by,
Better to die to live, than live to die.
Let pride be hatefull vnto every state,
It is a vice with vertue not allowed;
And such a vice as vertue hath in hate;
For vertue never makes the spirite prowde,
But hath her love the humble heart avowde:
And in advauncement of Nobilitie,
Gives greatest grace to Truths humilitie.
Which grace is gratious in the sight of God,
Makes men as Saints, and women Angells seeme,
Makes sinne forgotten, mercy vse no rod,
And constant faith to proove in great esteeme,
While Wisedomes care can never truth misdeem,
But is in some, a blessing of the Highest,
And to the nature of himselfe the nighest.
It maketh Vertue so in Beauty shine,
As if on earth there were a heavenly light,
It maketh wit in wisedome so divine,
As if the eie had a celestiall sight,
It is a Guide that leades the spirite right,
Vnto the place of that eternall rest,
Where all the blessed live for ever blest.
It makes a Court a kinde of Paradice
In subiects service, and the King his grace,
Whose favour drawes their harts vnto his eyes,
While they live blessed to behold his face:
O blessed Prince, that in his blessed place,
In Subiects love beholds his safeties being,
While they live happy in their Princes seeing.
God in his mercy send those humble mindes
To all the Subiects of our gratious King,
That he whose wisedom in true iudgement finds
Of humble faith, what fruits do fairely spring,
In his good grace may give vs cause to sing:
If on the earth a heaven be figurde thus,
The Lord of heaven graunt it in him, and vs.
Confound, [...]orces of his [...]
Cut off the tray [...]ors that intend him [...]
And of his thoughts and actions so [...],
That we may see thy wisedome in his will:
And so his spirite with thy blessing fill,
That he may seeke to glorifie thy name,
And we be humbly thankefull for the same.
O heavenly God, let never hellish braine,
Have powre to doe his Maiestie misdeede,
But let themselves even by themselves be slaine,
That doe their spirites with such poison feede,
And let our harts in teares of Comfort bleede,
To thinke on thee, to blesse thy people thus,
To have so good a King to raigne over vs.
Blesse him, our Queen, & gratious Prince of ours,
And all their of-spring in their princely places,
Raine on their soules in thy celestiall showres,
The heav'nly comforts of thy holy graces,
That when thou seest thy favours in their faces,
They in their loves, and we in thankfull hearts,
May in thy prayers make true Musike parts.
[...] wisedome, & his state with wealth,
Nobles hearts with Truths nobilitie,
[...]biects all, with loves humilitie:
[...]is governement with such a worthy fame,
That he and we may glorifie thy name.
Vnto which prayer, let that wretch not live,
That doth not say Amen with sincere hart,
And doth not thee due glory humbly give,
That vnto vs in mercy doost impart
Such good, too good for our too ill desart:
And grace our musike plaid on tru harts bright
For our King Iames blest be the knight.

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